I accidentally fell in love with tumblr, and have been giving a lot of my attention to http://thevest.tumblr.com/
As I have been considering how to deal with this website, and this blog, it has all become neglected. In the next few weeks everything should be back in order, while I will continue to keep The Vest running strong, I will also properly maintain this blog, and update the portfolio side of things with new (and newish) work.
I swear.
in a month.
I love this photograph. I love this stunt. I love the idea of the success of failure. Obviously this stunt was designed to play out exactly as we see it in this photograph, a complete, wonderful disaster. Although taken here to an extreme and dangerous level, it is nice to see such a forward example of embracing failure.
When I was in grade school I used to perform my own version of this stunt on my bike for my classmates—by jamming my foot in between the fork and the front wheel and then leaping over the bars. Maybe, subconciously, my audience appreciated the contradiction that made my trick so entertaining, but I imagine they were just like little NASCAR fans hoping to see me bust my ass.
Failure is not necessarily bad and I’d say that unless someone is getting hurt or set on fire or ruining motorcycles (and somtimes even then), it is a positive thing. It is too easy to get completely wrapped up in the bullshit of perfecting details to the point where something never gets finished. I’m getting to the point where I’d rather just drive into a van.
Note: If you know the provenance of this image please let me know.
Back when newspapers controlled (and billed for) the word count of classified listings, one had to be extremely frugal. With the advent of the now ubiquitous website craigslist, there is no need for such self-limiting (or censoring, in some cases). Hundreds and hundreds of words replace the twenty, and we’ve all become our own Crazy Eddie, developing our own tactics and tricks in an effort to sell our surplus stuff.
This transition to internet based classifieds, and the “deregulation” of listings has had a rather notable and well covered impact on the newspaper business—mainly that they can barely afford to operate anymore.
Socially, there have been other, less apparent results from this phenomenon, however. Beyond a simple description, often people’s opinions of their possessions are laid bare. Searching for specific keywords can result in an absorbing sociological experiment—and this project is based around just that. By limiting my search term to the word “classy,” we get a cross section—from Mercedes to telescopes—of what people perceive (or want to have be perceived) as classy. While commercial advertising might try to tell us how we should want to appear to the world— self-generated classifieds let us tell everyone how we view ourselves.
Pasadena, Calif. 2006
Pasadena, Calif. 2006
I would tell my 22 year old self, a freshman at Art Center, to stop being an idiot. I would tell him that in about a year and a half, you will figure out what all of this photography shit actually means to you, and while you won’t give up on complaining, you will at least start making work. I could explain that the frustration with a school and a town was irrelevant to what you wanted to do, so you might as well just make photographs.
For a year I couldn’t take pictures in Pasadena. It felt completely unphotographable to me, partially because it was just too convenient and partially because that early frustration just made it all look like utter crap to me. Then I moved and really only saw the place because I had to just kiss the ass end of it to get to my favorite sushi restaurant.
About two years later I found myself working on a project for the school, and for the City of Pasadena. I was to shoot a survey of architecture in the city, as some visual component to a lecture that was going to be given by Richard Koshalek. I believe it was meant to open a dialogue about the cheapening of the beauty of the existing building by making a entire city block an eight story brick of stucco.
Regardless, I found myself in that unphotographable city, making countless images. I would drive somewhere and park under an oak, and then walk and shoot until I was out of film. It was the kind of ‘collecting’ that I was doing prior to my Art Center beat down and that will hopefully always be a component of my practice.
There was nothing cerebral about the project, but it was enlightening for me. The photographs are always there. I would tell the 22 year old me to just stop complaining long enough to take them.