Remembering

While many of you will be remembering America's independence from the blokes this weekend--with too much beer, a smorgasbord of burgers 'n franks char-broiled on grease-fueled, fiery, bar-b-que grills, parades, fireworks, or a get-outa-town mini-vacation that might or might not include all of the aforementioned--times of remembrance can also include some self-focusing.

Personally, I'll be engaging in or witnessing all of the things I mentioned above except for, I'm guessing, a parade-- unless there's a parade on the beach. But before we go into holiday weekend mode, maybe we could take a few minutes to remember why we do this thing we do. Why we are photographers.

Linked below is a short, simple video that, pretty much, says it all, i.e., in terms of why we are photographers. It's a bit sappy but it's still worth the view. Special thanks to photographer, Ariston Collander, for Tweeting a heads-up on this video.

Hoping everyone has a safe and fun-filled 4th! I know I'll be doing the same. But before you get all festive and all, check out this nicely put-together vid, titled, "I Am a Photographer."

And while you're at it, assuming you have a few more minutes to spend, you might also take a look at photographer Zack Arias's most-excellent video, which I wrote about (and linked) some time ago. Maybe you've already seen it, maybe not. Regardless, it's an evergreen, good-for-the-soul, video for photographers. Here's Zack's video.

The pretty girl at the top is the Goddess of Glam herself, Playboy, Penthouse, FHM, High Times (and so many mags more) cover girl, Ms. Tera Patrick, snapped a year or so ago in front of her humble abode and her hubbie's Jesse James/West Coast Choppers-built scooter.

Hotties and Harleys

I'm beat.

Exhausted.

Toast.

Worked a 15-hour shoot yesterday.

We shot in an auto body shop. The building's "swamp cooler" cooling system wasn't happening. Temperatures inside the location reached 104° F during the afternoon. (40° C for some of you.)

But it was a dry heat, okay?

Yeah, like that made any difference.

I didn't shoot the pretty girl photographs for this project. I was the director/HD video operator. I was gonna also shoot the stills but, two days before production, my production manager called and suggested, "Why don't we hire another photographer?"

I resisted.

The PM went on, "You'll make the same money for the day."

I continued resisting. After all, shooting the "pretty girls" is what I love doing best.

The PM added, "It will make for a much shorter day."

Shorter day?

I relented.

A "much shorter day" turned out to be fiction: A sounded-good-in-theory false prediction.

A lie.

Had I not relented, of course, that 15-hour day probably would have turned into something more. Something longer. Something uglier. Something that would have meant I'd still, as I write this, be in bed, semi-comatose. (It's 10:58 A.M. as I write this.)

As the day progressed and temperatures soared everyone began working slower. Much slower. (Except the PM who sat most of the day at a desk in a small, air conditioned, office at the auto body shop.)

The desk and office belongs to Joey Buttafuco. But Joey wasn't there yesterday. He was smarter than us, spending his day lounging at a pool, sipping Coronas and admiring young, nubile, women in bikinis. While we had plenty of young, nubile, (sweaty) women of our own to admire, Joey's day sounds more relaxing and enjoyable. Certainly cooler.

We went through (I don't how many) cases of bottled water! Also lots of towels to dry off the models/performers. It was like shooting in a sauna.

A dry sauna, of course.

Again, like that makes a difference.

Thematically, this would-be-masterpiece of the erotic cinema (not) involves young hotties and roaring Harleys. They go together, right? Hotties and Harlies? Add to the bikes and babes some hard-riding biker-dudes and, voilà, an allegorical sex-epic emerges like magic, almost on its own.

I thought about adding guns to the saga--guns, chicks, and Harleys make for even more titillating imagery--but guns cost money. (To rent, that is.) Plus, blank ammo ain't cheap! (Something we definitely weren't budgeted for.) Besides, if we had guns and plenty of blank ammo we would have had so much fun shooting the half-naked chicks shooting the fully-faux-loaded guns that we would have shot ourselves in the feet, time-wise.

Yes. I know this stuff from personal experience.

I shouldn't overly complain. Yesterday was a good payday, despite the long hours and brutal heat.

Besides, it was a dry heat. Right?

I should be back to writing about photography for my next update. Just thought I'd share my yesterday with you all, as interesting (or not) as it might be.

The pretty girl at the top, mounted on a rice-burner rather than a Harley, is my good pal, Kori, from a few years ago. Shot it during my (fortunately short-lived) red and yellow gel phase. Her right arm looks like it's growing out of her face. Oh well. The red and yellow gels didn't work out too well either.

No More Pennies From Heaven

Apparently, Google, for whatever reason, has removed its AdSense ads from this blog. I have no evidence, forensic or otherwise, hinting at why they've done so. The ads are simply gone.

Google's AdSense ads ran here for a couple of years. Now, suddenly, poof, they're history.

I've received no email or other communication from Google advising me they've taken this action or why. I'm guessing it might have something to do with the pictorial content I post? Perhaps a complaint registered by one of Google's advertisers? Who knows? Google is a company built on providing information except, it seems, when that information concerns decisions they might make, i.e., decisions effecting their individual users, associates, or affiliates.

Looks like I'm back to writing for free instead of writing for pennies.

I'm not overly perturbed about this.

There was a time I would have been outraged but, in my half-century-plus on this planet, I've learned to accept that hypocrisy remains alive and well, always will, and exists in nearly infinite forms.

I would dwell on this subject a bit more but I've got better things to do with my time, like reorganizing my sock drawer or alphabetizing my spice rack.

Oh! Wait! I don't have a spice rack!

Oh well.

Thanks for all those penny-generating clicks you guys provided!

The pretty girl at the top is Monica. For some reason, the pic seems to illustrate my currently bemused attitude towards Google's AdSense.

The Cult of the Photo Vest

When it comes to fashion apparel, photographers fall into two, broad, categories: Those who wear photographer vests and those who don't.

I fall into the latter category. I not only refrain from wearing "the vest," I don't own one-- Never have and, most likely, never will.

Whenever I see shooters wearing those spiffy photographer vests, I perceive them as photo-snappers belonging to a special group, a tightly-knit club, a secret fraternal order. One I've never been invited to join.

In my mind, vest-wearing shooters are to photography as those guys with shaved heads and orange robes are to Buddhism, "colors" wearing Hells Angels are to motorcycle enthusiasts, or kilt-sporting highlanders are to the Scots.

I sometimes wonder if these guys have secret handshakes, use mysterious symbolism, and attend nocturnal meetings in round, lens-shaped, temples. More than any other group of photographers, those who wear "the vest" are members of a cult: Cult of the Photo Vest.

They're like the Freemasons of photography.

The Cult of the Photo Vest reveres things like film, rangefinder cameras, German optics, and landscape and nature shooting. They are all, universally, well-versed in the art, craft, and technical scientific aspects of photography. And their knowledge is not limited to old school photography. They assimilate knowledge and information as quickly as technology changes.

When you go to sites like photo.net and ask a difficult technical question, a question whose answer seems to defy Googling, it's more than likely a vest-wearing photographer who will provide you the answer. These are guys, after all, who not only quote the Sunny 16 Rule and the Inverse Square Law, they can explain these things in infinite detail. When it comes to all things photographic, they are bi-pedal Photo-Wikipedians: Photo-Wikis for short.

While many vest-wearers seem to belong to older generations, I do occasionally see younger initiates at various events where photographers gather. I'm not accusing the cult of refusing admittance to women but, thus far, I've yet to see a female photographer wearing a photo-vest. Maybe I simply haven't looked hard enough?

The cult doesn't appear to actively seek new members. I'm not sure how someone joins or becomes a member. Invitation? Borg-like assimilation? Simply purchasing and proudly wearing a photo vest? I have no clue.

We need these guys. They are the keepers of photographic truth. If slinging the latest dSLR on one's shoulder says "photographer," wearing "the vest" says, "photo zealot." And I mean that in the nicest way with the utmost of respect.

My next update will return to regularly scheduled programming. Programming that focuses on examining the forces that results in pictures of scantily-clad, or unclad, pretty girls-- Pretty girls like Monica, below, shot in my (former) studio, 3 or 4 years ago. (Once again, I hopped in the way-back machine to dredge up a an older PG photo for this update.)

Are You a REAL Photographer?

I don't know who the culprit was but someone on Twitter recently tweeted, "To be a real photographer you also need to be a business person." Consider the quotation marks loosely applied. It might not be an exact quote but it's fairly close.

I doubt the quote was intended to dis avocational photographers--In fact, I'm sure it wasn't meant that way--but it had that effect nonetheless. Some people shrugged, others were a bit taken back, while still others were fairly pissed! The quote was perceived, by those who took exception to it, as meaning only professional photographers, i.e., those who make all or part of their living from photography, are "real" photographers.

Just so ya know, I absolutely do NOT subscribe to that belief. If I've ever posted anything on this blog that, in any way, seemed to infer that I believe only professional shooters are "real" photographers, I can assure you I didn't mean it to appear that way and my wording must have been the result of a "momentary lapse of reason" or, at the time I wrote such words, I was "comfortably numb." (© Pink Floyd)

Thanks to the internet, we all have the equal ability to view the work of pro shooters as well as photo-hobbyists-- From those just starting out to seasoned photographers. I don't know about you but, often enough, I see work from hobbyists that wows the shit out of me! Not only does some of that work wildly impress me, it makes me wish I could shoot as well as more than a few of those hobbyists are able to shoot.

Rather than dwell on this subject, I'll let you read another blogger's thoughts about it. He dwells way better than I dwell, leastwise, when it comes to dwelling on this "real photographer" stuff.

To read Vancouver photographer David duChemin's blog, "Pixelated Image," and his most excellent take on this subject, CLICK HERE.

BTW, David seems like a really smart, unpretentious, and grounded guy In spite of the French heritage his last name seems to indicate.

LOL

Sorry! That was a little inside joke. I'm friends with a few (from-France) French photographers, some of whom read this blog, and I couldn't resist... Right, mon frères?

The golden-sepia-toned pretty girl at the top is Missy shot in my (former) studio about 3 or 4 years ago. I don't know why I've lately been dredging up pics from the past. I've certainly shot enough new stuff. Go figure, right?

Iran Protest Video

And now for something completely different: I don't have time to write a photography update so, instead, posted a short, timely video cut together by my good pal, documentary filmmaker Bill Day, using recent photos and vid-clips from Iran. Music by Buffalo Springfield.

You remember Buffalo Springfield, right? Stephen Stills, Dewey Martin, Bruce Palmer, Richie Furay, and Neil Young made up the influential, if short-lived, group.