Love your photos.
Here's my question: While I took Journalism classes and PhotoJournalism I'm just getting back into taking photos of some meaning. I love to take photos of people on the street and although I randomly see interesting people and great shot op's I'm still trying to find the balls to take their photos. How do you approach these people without ruining the shot? I.E-do you take the photo first and then explain that your a pro photographer (I understand you carry a business card which sounds sensible). I know that's a dumb question but I always feel like I SEE great photos but pass up the shot. Any suggestions would be great...?
- #88, NorCal
Ty: Good question and an even better observation.
I'm glad you like my photographs, thanks.
Funny, I still have problems getting the balls to shoot sometimes. Firstly, I've found that in public nobody notices (so just shoot, only explain if questioned - lie if you have to, but shoot first ask permission later, if necessary to thwart a possible "situation". If you have to ask (like in a coffee shop or at a pool) then say "I'm taking photo classes..." - works every time (as does, "it's for my blog" with the ladies). But, rarely say, "I'm a professional photographer." That identifies you as a dork. I've noticed that if I have to ask, 99% give permission (the other 1% asks, "why?" and you can talk 'em into it).
I take like 1,000-1,500 shots a month and STILL feel I pass on shots. I try to carry a camera with me everywhere I go. But I either sometimes just chicken out (less frequently anymore) or I just miss the shot I see (drives me nutty). Sometimes though, I magically make the time and take the effort to get the shot before I even think about it.
So, if you SEE a shot, then just fuckin' TAKE the shot. My advice is to go all Nike and just do it. Once the shot is taken, it's taken. If you're in public, everyone's fair game. Also, if you can, use what I call the "power of two." You have a friend stand and pose, then you just shoot over his/her shoulder toward your subject.
Oh, and cops don't like photographers.
Just a guess.
Send your 30 second clips to me.
Use: ty[dot]hardaway[at]gmail[dot]com <-- careful them spiders.
"Fuck you, Verizon! Fuck you! And thanks for giving my information to the government too! Assholes! "
- Anonymous Friend > 10.24.07
[Verizon Wireless customer service didn't provide my friend with the answer they were expecting.]
- Resident of the State of Florida
Ty: Good question and an even better observation.
Answer #1: You felt race was a factor because race is always a factor. Even when you don't feel race was a factor, it is, was, and will always be a factor; just like sex is always a factor.
Answer #2: Sex, race, and physical attraction are essential automated sorting mechanisms. You can turn on the willful brain and tamp these filters down, but there is no "off" switch.
Answer #3: Keep in mind, though, that context can vary dynamics. For example, there are settings where being a 50 year-old white male makes you the HNIC. But there are others where these three attributes put you at the very bottom of the totem. You can figure the situations yourself. So, having particular attributes (and being able to "play" the subtle attributes finely) can hurt or hinder; reward or punish.
As long as everybody accepts the premise that race will always be a factor, we can begin to make sense of things.
Just a guess!
Isn't it a little weird that I'm "into" Achewood so much. C'mon? It's almost fawning fanboyish.
Thanks a lot! If it were you, I'd've told ya.
That's it. With friends like you....
"I just started using Exxon again following the Valdez thing. I hold grudges, dude!"
- Mark > 10.24.07
[The oil tanker Exxon Valdez struck Bligh Reef, Prince William Sound in Alaska on March 24, in 1989]
An entire lifetime of being everything
yet being nothing at all - ever
Birthdays and Halloweens
(have become) quaint if not just plain corny
Lead and crime (death and grime)
the rights of the antonymous people(s)
Surrounded mostly though by mopes
content with taking pictures of each other
Bad Starbucking parents creating
crises to catastrophe to come
But, this is just a brief point in
the story, the time, and the history
One of several
Again, I contend it's
the manifestations of our discontent, realized
Now. We know. That.
We can do anything
Icky Thump by the White Stripes
Widow City by the Fiery Furnaces
Graduation by Kanye West
La Cucaracha by Ween
Kala by M.I.A.
The Mix-up by the Beastie Boys
In Rainbows by Radiohead
Friend Opportunity by Deerhoof
Tones of Town by Field Music
From the article's comments:
Now, I don't really agree, but this is the tone of the comments. I like Shane, Gavin, and Suroosh. The problem is people haven't seen the actual print magazine. Vice is alls abouts making some moneys. Ads up the ass. Means to an end. Gotta have the bread to do the dread.
"Just another bullshitty bastion of pointless consumerist handjobs, a place where yuppies and gangsta wannabes and the tragically hip can go to enjoy the last days of empire. As global warming, peak oil, U.S. fascism, water shortages, food shortages, food riots, rising oceans, dying land, sea and air, play out in a relentless death march towards finally killing off the American wannabe class as they cling to their ipods, we can smell the schadenfreude. The absolute best thing that will happen, or rather not happen, is that none of it will be found on youtube, vice, Wired or any other twenty something excuse for culture. That trope will be not only gone, but forgotten.
The techno cool will be butt boys for the most heavily armed and wondering why oh why they didn't take the blue pill."
I'm tired of the idealism, I'm ready to sell out. I'm playing Shane in the film.
"There's no need to provoke Him. I've been on God's chessboard long enough to know that every move forward, every bit of good news--Success! Marriage! Child!--is just another Godly gambit, a feign, a fake, a setup; it seems as if I'm making my way across the board, but soon enough God calls check, and the company that hired me goes under, the wife dies, the baby chokes to death. God's pick-and-roll. The rope-a-Lordy-Dope. God was here, God was there, God was everywhere."See?
In his interview with Matt Lauer that aired on NBC’s “Matt Lauer Reports” on Tuesday night and again this morning on “Today,” Craig says he doesn’t use the Internet.
When Lauer asked Craig whether he knew about the Minneapolis airport bathroom’s reputation as a “hot spot” for gay trysts, Craig said: “Matt, you won’t believe this. But I don’t use the Internet. I don’t have a computer at my desk. I’ve never used the Internet. It’s just not what I do. I e-mail with my BlackBerry. No, I did not know that. I had no reason to know that.”
That’s interesting, in light of the following:
» In an op-ed he wrote this summer on the SCHIP health care program, Craig refers to doing a Google search on the term “mission creep.”[from the Examiner]
» He’s a member of the Congressional Internet Caucus.
» He co-sponsored a bill designating June 2007 as National Internet Safety Month.
» He was presented with the 2007 Internet Keep Safe Coalition Award.
» On his Web site, he lists as a top accomplishment a Silver Mouse Award given to his site by the Congressional Management Foundation in 2003 and 2006.
» When he endorsed Mitt Romney for president, he did so on YouTube.
These are ideas and memory devices. These are quotations overheard. These are opinions. These are puzzles to be worked out. Some things will make no sense (to you or me). Whatever.
What is diversity?
“…encountering temptations and antagonisms to which he is no longer equal.”
Such a wonderful shape; the shape of things to come.
You’re not funny
Getting back to seeing
Displaced by shrillness of the leotard saleswoman.
Sorry, buy you cannot dress up your nasty feet with a toe ring.
Leonard Cohen – Sisters of Mercy
Looking for Lewis
There’s a certain purity, a perfection sought
Something if not wholly unattainable
Then something nonexistent
My knees are going.
It could be called a calling.
- “Yeah, and my mother’s Carman Miranda”
- “I like cocoa”
- “Put on the Price is Right, it’s on Channel 7.”
Let’s not bother with what it all means.
The Great Escape
Interspersion: A-B-A-C-B-A-C-A / 1-1-2-1-2-3-2-4
I bet LinkedIn is like some huge hoop vehicle…should be called “HookedUp.” Of course, there’s probably already a “HookedUp[dot]com.”
Manifestation of our discontent.
Sure dissonance reduction is a factor. Sure reconciling wants is a factor. But most modern (public) behavior sums out to our overt interactions with our personal and collective discontent.
Flight of the Concords
OK. The LinkedIn told me this morning that it had a secret surprise for me.
I said, "Cool! Thank you, LinkedIn. What is it?"
LinkedIn said, "I checked your address book on your computer. I know, I didn't really mean to pry, but us computers stick together, you know?"
"Wow," I offered. LinkedIn knows everything.
So, there you have it. The computers are banding together and taking over the universe.
But, I love it. I think LinkedIn could/should be the next big thing. If LinkedIn were smart, they'd let you upload videos, music, etc. Most of the stuff Facebook and Myspace does, but in a cleaner, more mature manner. It could basically be Myspace for people with mortgages. Facebook for adults.
I mean they want to capture the whole "professional" thing, but hell, what is professional anymore? People do many more things than they list as their job.
I can make money doing a lot of things, but I'm also a professional ("professional") artist in a couple fields. I have a past, I have a present, I have a future.
Pardon me for being incredibly stupid. Seriously. You should disown me as a friend. Because if we have a car accident. I'll forget to drag you out of the flaming vehicle. That is how stupid I am.
What am I talking about?
I'm listening to tracks from Widow City right now.
On good headphones. I realize I've only listened on bad headphones on the subway and in the car.
Oh, and the Mix Up. And In Rainbows. Oh, and the Mollusk Sessions.
Woman 1: 45-50, looks single, have seen her before somewhere, but do not have confirmation of this - not particularly attractive.Me: Oh excuse me [I ran into Woman 1 as we were cramming into elevator].
Woman 2: Perhaps early 30s, fairly non-descript - wearing jeans (non business attire), reading the Washington City Paper while waiting for elevator.
Opening scene: Seven people loading into packed Metro elevator during afternoon rush.
Woman 1 (to me): Oh, sorry, didn't mean to get in your way.
Woman 2 (to Woman 1): Uh, please don't hit me with your bag.
Woman 1: Sorry [sarcastically].
Me (to Woman 1): Are you okay?
Woman 1: I am, but I don't think she is [referring to Woman 2 while rolling her eyes].
Woman 2: I was just asking you to watch your bag - I'm watching mine.
[A moment of silence]
Woman 1 (to no one in particular, but clearly trying to get support of the other people in the elevator) Must have been a long day.
Woman 2: You're reaction is so typical...you hit me with your bag - I ask you to be polite and you give me a sarcastic "sorry".
Woman 1 (getting angry and overly dramatic): I hit you...
Woman 2: Now you're threatening to hit me?
Woman 1: No, I was saying that I hit you with my bag and was going to apologize but you made that snide comment before I had a chance.
Woman 2: I don't think it's ridiculous to ask someone to be polite.
Woman 1: You know what? Fuck you. Just fuck you!
Closing scene: Elevator doors open, I can hear Woman 1 saying “fuck you” a few more times and explaining herself to the stunned people waiting outside of the elevator.And…scene!
So, put this on my tombstone: he died laughing at this:
It started on a Thursday night. 30 Rock then this. Maybe it was the retarded jokes, maybe the rock band jokes. Or, maybe man-rape jokes. But, tie dyed.
You take inspiration where you can get it, right? And, the siblings Friedberger continue to deliver. There are great records for listeners (the Rolling Stones) and there are great records for producers (Kanye West). And, there are both. This is both (7/8ths, anyway) right here.
OK, this is not a record review, this is a reaction to Widow City (blah blah, the new Fiery Furnaces record released just this week by Thrill Jockey blah blah).
Good shit, man! No, that's selling it way too short. What's good about it? Firstly, this is what's bad about it; the mix. I'm not usually one to tic on somebody else's mix (since I SUCK at mixing myself) but I'm finding myself fiddling with the the mids and trebles to get some separation between instrumental voices, but it ain't helping too much, stuck in the mud (like I Like Smartbomb). So I just make it louder. That kind of helps. Maybe it's a crappy download issue, but since I already bought it, I'm stuck with it. I'm not buying it again. Blueberry Boat, Gallowsbird, and Bitter Tea were much clearer to me.
Anyway, the content is great. If I didn't know better I'd've swore that the siblings/offspring Zappa were making this, given the lineage. But, no, it's the Friedberger kids. Conceptually, there is so much going on that I couldn't quite describe all the voicing and instruments and polyrhythmic nuances. I do know that it's thick, way too thick to get all right now. I also know this: there is years of mining to do on this. I mean Blueberry Boat was made in, what, 2004, right? Still mining (and it's not like I don't know the nuances either).
Sequentially, Widow accomplishes what you'd want a good record to accomplish: begins with scene/tone setting, takes you on a trip, and then beats the shit out of your senses and sensibilities. And, it's definitely not for everybody, thank god. Kanye has no worries.
So, out of ten stars, I give it an, "I LOVE IT!" Or, to be honest, "I'M SURE I WILL SOMEDAY LOVE AND APPRECIATE THIS RECORD." That, my friends, is a high-order compliments. The highest compliment for me (which applies here) is: I'd like to play in that band.
"There!" Proclaimed the excited Chris Onstad upon uploading his daily NetToon, Achewood. Upon upload confirmation the goon holing Liz released her and Bill Gates slowly lowered the pistol.
"We on again for tomorrow, Mr. Onstad?" asked the salivating Gates. Liz walked over to Chris leering at Bill Gates's burley bodyguard. After a pregnant pause that felt an eternity, Liz nudged her blankly-staring husband in the ribs. "Yes!" he said, probably much louder than he had intended. "Yes, Mr. Gates...tomorrow." Weakly articulated, the deal was sealed.
Gates turned to go, then looked over this shoulder, eyes gleaming, "Remember. With my bare hands tomorrow, right?"
"Yes, Mr. Gates. In tomorrow's strip you beat Steve Jobs to death with your 'manly fists of death.'"
-- Gary, Boston
Ty: Gary, good question and an even better observation.
Fact Number 1: Yes, I publicly declared--on more than one occasion--that I would never do MySpace-Facebook-LinkedIn or any of the other "social network" internet things. Why? I don't really care for superficial interactions and those all seem annoyingly superficial. MySpace? Please! In some cases I just don't really like people. So, I don't want to interact.These two behaviors seem to come from two attitudes. Shouldn't there be dissonance? No. I can do what I want. Here me out: I am comfortable with changing my mind on this. I am comfortable with putting it all out there. Absolutely no cognitive dissonance, kids.
Fact Number 2: Yes, I updated a LinkedIn page for myself. See it here: [clicky]. Read it (c'mon, it's fun). See the me almost cry in the overly processed photo.
Most importantly, here's why I did it (or, a la OJ, if I did it):
1) It's another art project. That's what I do. Did you read any of it? I put this on my LinkedIn page:Background: There was a point where I would try to keep my professional/work life (Tyrone) and my private/arts lives separate (Ty). But, I'm letting everything fall where it falls from here out. I don't care. Well, let me restate that: I don't mind anymore. I'm comfortable with me with regard to this. I don't care if some job potential finds my LinkedIn thingy and goes to my blog or worse, podcast, where the words are crude, silly, odd, and if you don't "get it" seemingly hateful. I can no longer care about how people view me. Because...it's me...and "professional" shouldn't be exclusive of "real."
2) It's another inlet to my art work. Oh-oh, look at me!!! It's mostly a vehicle for directing people to my site and my (art) work.
- I received this certificate of honor on a drawing in 5th grade (most proud)
- Band president, Claremont High School
- Finding truths, or closest approximations.
- Solving organizational puzzles and mysteries.
- Art. Beauty. Truth.
Foreground: And, most importantly "work" is just another arts medium for me. It always has, but now I accept that. So, "professional" means everything I do. I've been a semi-public figure for so long, I've decided why put on the act of having all of these life-modules. Yes, I work. Yes, I make art. Can't we all just get along?
Now, why are everyone's (that I've seen) LinkedIn pages so goddamn boring? Eh? Who are you all trying to fool. I wouldn't hire such boring people in a million years. In order to do your work, you need skills. In order to do your work well, you need presence, depth, balance, and perspective.
Oh, and, I will never, ever (in a million years) do MySpace or FaceBook.
Just a guess (when I say "just a guess" I shrug).
- (I am) Ty
"Jonny Fairplay has slapped Bonaduce and Fox Reality Channel with a lawsuit over the award-show back flip that the Survivor castoff alleges left him with more than just wounded pride.
The suit, filed Tuesday in Los Angeles, seeks unspecified damages for battery, intentional infliction of emotional distress, negligence and negligent supervision." [clicky]
Ty: Rickey Powell, good question and an even better observation. Here's your set-up, people: I got in etouch with an old friend whom I haven't chatted with in a long time; probably a year. I mean, it's October, after all. I'm all Ray Smuckles in October. It's the season and shit. So, I want to see how the folks are. Let's call my friend, "Billy."
Well "Billy" tells me some stuff about what's going on--some really rough shit and some quite sweet living -- but then he throws in this bit:
Dang. Buzz kill. October-fucking-buzz-kill. This is hard for me to process so I bounce that little phrase off a friend of mine in the Cali-hood just to see how it hits him. We'll call that friend, Rich (to keep shit straight). So, "Rich" throws it back at me as an "Ask Ty." Shit, that brings me all back into the October mood. Thanks! Always finding a way to make the world into The Lifestyle Arts, that Rich. I owe him, among a few others, so much for promoting The Lifestyle Arts (TLA, suckas!). Anyone call ™ on that shit yet? If not, I call, "mines."
See? TLA in the house! Anyhow, the heart of the question:
"Is that just code for "I am and always have been a mope" or does something transformative happen to people that they become a "typical suburb dad now, settling into this-is-as-good-as-it-gets?""I know this guy, Billy. He's no mope though. I know a few guys, and they're not mopes but are in similar circumstances (whether they realize it or not). [But, wait Ty, we covered some of this previously [clicky], right? There's a degree of recursion....] While some of my friends may score low on the mope scale, maybe there's an insecurity creep in effect? Maybe this "transformation" of cool dude into "good-as-it-gets" suburban father happens over time; with added responsibilities (kids, mortgage, expectations, mortality) and perspective.
But what's brilliant is friend, "Billy," has expressed it. He knows what's happening. He may not be able to or even want to change things, he has come to terms with his present, at least. And that's healthy.
Dudes that haven't figure out their circumstances are fucking doomed. You see 'em all the time. Billy ain't doomed. No mope. But, does something happen? Yeah. Life happens. You have kids, you have to make some decisions. If you're lucky to be rich enough you can make some decisions. Like where are you going to send the little bastards to school where they will learn something and where they don't get their asses kicked every day. Drugs? Can't control for that...teach 'em some rules there.
OK, so you move to the suburbs so your kid doesn't get beaten everyday in a roach-filled classroom of dumbshit students and teachers (so much worse: the Teach 4 America kids). So now you have a $700,000 house. So, your job becomes more important and the job now has you extorted into compliance (no work-y, no house-y). So you probably have to play by some work rules because if you get fired you then have to move to the ghetto and your kids will get robbed every day and they'll end up pregnant, addicted, and stupid as hell by the age of 11.
In your new suburban cul-de-sac living you see that everybody is EXACTLY like you'd expect them to be: Dockers? Check! Belt? Check! Blackberry? Check! Lite Beer from Miller? Check! Minivan? Check! PTA? Check! Block party participant? Check! Looks like a goddamn magazine. Wisteria Court or some shit.
But, they ALL hate that shit. Who likes the work they do? Who likes to wear Dockers? Who likes bluetooth? Nobody. They all feel that this life sucks. But who's to complain?
When you are a fairly typical suburban dad this is as good as it gets. At least in terms of lifestyle. You are comfy with your big ass LCD TeeVee, you have a gas fucking grill! Good as it gets ain't so bad. Probably better than your parents. Sure, you're in debt up to your formally coked-out eyeballs, but life doesn't suck. You ain't digging coal. You ain't sweeping a goddamn thing except your deck on Saturdays.
So, it's not really a transformation. It's a reconciliation that, "this is my life now." Everything you've worked so hard for in school, grad school, night school, and at work has given you everything you've ever wanted. SUV? Check! Golf clubs? Check! Pool membership? Check! You're bored as hell, and "A little piece of my soul dies on a daily basis." But, only the pieces of your soul that deserve death. The poet is still alive. The writer is just out of practice. No, you're never gonna play in the NHL, but you are still the fuck you, dumbasses.
You've just become your father and you're terrified! You look in the mirror and you hate yourself for giving up illustration lessons or selling your darkroom equipment. You remember that shit that kept you alive. You had promise, man. You're your parents now and you remembered how you resented them for fucking squandering their lives away with their oh-so-important work when they could have been doing cool shit with you like skateboarding (daddy, teach me how to ollie). You remember them saying, "If you don't do well in school, you'll have nothing!" Uh, well look at me now, huh? Gee, 3,000 sq. ft. of nothing. A wife that don't fuck me no more, and/but smart (and smart kids) that I'm launching down the same miserable path. Hopefully one can play football and the other can act or something Exciting.
And the insecurity score soars! Wiping your low mope scores off the chart.
So, then Rich wrote the complimentary statement about me, "but you're not nor do you stand a chance at becoming a "typical suburb dad now, settling into this-is-as-good-as-it-gets."" Goddamn fucking right. And, for a variety of reasons:
1. Can you imagine? Just say no, Nancy.Whatever. Some mopes will always be mopes. As douchebags will be douchebags. It's just the way of the world. But, if you're not a mope, stop fucking acting like one. Get off your asses and make life fun. That goes for me too.
2. I don't have the direct middle class, American values modeling of this cycle of behaviors. I'm approaching the whole thing with a studied, artistic freshness that I hope to pass to my child (cynicism and all).
3. Work has, at worst, been a place for "money getting" and, at best, The Lifestyle Arts. A show. Everybody hates work, but I've always found something interesting about it (aside from the mind numbing boredom of typical corporate working) in its social organization. I also like hospital and airline food.
4. Art, introspection, reflection, production (making shit), and confronting some (but never all) realities has proven to be helpful. I have my problems, but I find the right places for most of 'em.
5. There's no such thing as this is "as good as it gets" -- that shit ain't true. If you think it is, go read Dr. Zhivago. If you think it is, paint something. If you think it is, listen to Funkadelic. If you think it is, make an album or take a picture. There's so much more to this.
Just a guess. - Ty
* - asterisk.
Larry King interviews Jenna Bush
King: Do you feel funny, because every interviewer has to ask, to be asked questions about Iraq, your thoughts on Iraq?
Bush: Um-hmm. So you're asking me a question about Iraq?
King: Yes. What do you think?
Bush: Well, you know, that's -- I don't feel like I'm an expert. I -- you know, I'm not. And I think it's a very complicated situation. And, obviously, I respect the men and women who are over there sacrificing their lives for us. But, you know, I don't feel qualified to talk about it.
King: How do you handle the criticism about it? You don't take it personal?
Bush: No. I mean it's -- yes, no.
King: Not your decision?