Watched some of The Hire again... The Madonna one, obviously, because it's so funny, but I can't help, ever, to go around the Powder Keg. It's one of the most powerful things ever filmed. Even if my dad was not a war photographer once, when he was young, having to suffer for it, his dreams enslaved by the horror he witnessed, and reported , as he got older and the mind chose to the remember the ugly, but because this is such a well well done story. Perhaps not even the first part so much, even though it's super sad and righteous, but the last half: when the Driver comes back to the 'real world', with that song playing in the back : "The words are saying nothing...", to the mother, *failing* to say to her he was with her son when he... ...And *failing* to say the man won the Pulitzer, because he can see it couldn't mean less to her... And then surrendering the dog tags, in Braille, highlighting the entire absurdity of the whole thing, that this man, who only had a blind mother, was a photographer - and a photographer of things he was only to happy his mother could never see...

         I cry like a goldfish every time. A bowl-worth of tears just for this one minute of footage. It is probably one of the rarest sad things I willingly watch. But I do it so I would never look down on that kind of grit.

Funny how the General handles things, when (something like) bullied. I mean - he handles them the right way. I wouldn't. Example - the folk who stole my design, publishing my work few weeks back, when not even the draft was paid for yet - he called them today, as agreed, for they failed to even remove the add yell alone pay for it, to warn that the deal was they either understand my position or he presses charges. He did it after we went to the mall (he hates malls, so he was adequately not happy) and when the guy got nasty - angry and snappy - unlike me, General went to calm him down. I would freak out and got all hysterical and pissed off. But no. He simply said there is no need for things to get unprofessional, this isn't anyone's real blame, we are not looking to point any fingers, we are simply expecting - considering my work is my livelihood - a fair exchange.. and that he will drop by come Friday. A curious strategy indeed, stepping a step back and giving the bully more room, because the guy then probably felt foolish and stopped being a dick.
          I wonder if I'll actually see any money from the stolen add. I'll make sure he is prepared for anything: the nice civil settlement or two thugs with knives in the shadows. Better safe than sorry, in this scary world of art.

Countdown...

Somewhere out there, there is a tiny box with my name on it. Literally. In it is magic. Purpose and soul. I am so happy about this, it is difficult to breathe. Already I am begining to see with photographer's eyes all anew: every foggy morning needs to be judged by quality of light and standpoint, every afternoon forest path needs the right amount of glittering day flies, every streets needs people of the balanced fashion to highlight the whole picture-that-could-be... I am wild with imagining photo-shoots, a process not many comprehend: how much work needs to be put into something... if you want. If it's fun. Yes, certainly, it can be just the model, the photie and her dog, but I have pictures in my mind that will require a make-up artist, two reflection/light handlers, perhaps a fan guy.... and another assistant. Why? To play with the dog, of course :p

Eugenio Recuenco

On my end everyone's asleep by now - the man, the dog, the street.. But I am restless. Emotional, too, I keep wanting to cry, but keep feeling so good at the same time. I am fairly sure in certain circles that's a fine sign of going mad, but in mine, it's the natural state of being. But I hate being idle. I hate being poor. Above all, I hate this idea that I am not meant to be any more outstanding, because I am afraid of losing what I have. It's a strange feeling. I'm suspecting I hate it.

I came across a portfolio of some topmost photographer - the kind that pushes the boundaries of  perfection in a photograph - as an art form - but the kind I don't really want to be. I like lyrical, bright, gentile and the sort of portraits that feel like the first thing you see on a foggy morning when you step outside a forest house, not like something that's more a painting than a photo and it hits like a ton of bricks o the brain.  I'll see if I can find his early works, when light was still something he had to chase as opposed to the old lion he now keeps in a cage. I am impressed by the sheer amount of photos on his website, though. Many have just a hundred or even less.. At least it shows he's madly in love with this medium, but he does strike me as an impossibly difficult person to be around of - and I fundamentally don't want that. 

I don't want to be poor, but even less do I want to be alone..

These are not the kind of shots you take when you are young and just starting out. Nobody would like them. They would be a testament to a decayed and corrupted soul, of someone who's already giving up on beauty. For a seasoned retina, however, they are majestic. I suppose, for someone who has to keep up the pretext of being misunderstood, they are just the right heft amount of legacy.

Another pleasant mushroom afternoon :)

My my, what pickies Porky is suddenly making!.... I think it may have heard us talking about an upgrade? :))

Robin Hood 2010

I've been pleasantly surprised by the latest Robin Hood. I expected it to be far far worse, actually. The acting does appear rigid at times, but casting, costume and, well, grit, do deliver. Especially the role of Marion, which has been manhandled into the ranks of one very pissed off old virgin :) Fat friar, the sleazy sheriff, old Walter, they were all delightful. If you look close enough, there's quite a lot of talk of sex :))

          Two things take the cake above much of all other films recently seen (bar perhaps, of course, Avatar): the photography is superb (the scene where title appears to begin with) 

and bits of realism are overwhelming.. Some text is remarkably true-to-life. (About a horde of thousands of scared Englishmen crossing the Chanel?.. and a woman be in need of a husband to be worth anything at all..)  Even just the scene where Marion, naively, charges Godfrey on the shore, forgetting she's just a very feisty lady, but he is a professional soldier and above that, she's a lot, lot less heavy than he is. He pulls her off and basically just lets her armor drown her as he aims to stab her through the vizier. Armor was a bit of a bother in marine battles. Folk sank like stone. A knight could drown in a puddle.

Problem is, such a man is indeed magnificent to behold, but very, very soon a woman begins to think - I don't want this next fight to be his last. Let him stay with me, at home, get fat and clumsy, getting no more than his thumb hammered in his growing age. A warrior is all fine and cool to fancy, but not when you expect to live above 30.

Of course all the juddering camerawork, the battles which at times feel like a Saving Private Ryan in more iron, the emotionally unresponsive wooden male lead and the slightly confusing, politically-heavy/ideologically-black&white narrative, don't quite work for most movie fans, who grew up rooting for either Kevin Costner or Alan Rickman, or laughing at the Men in tights, ("...Because unlike other Robin Hoods, I can speak with an *English* accent.."). But I thought it would be a lot worse. I've seen it twice now and am in need of a far better copy. The 'Fate Has Smiled upon Us' song is also nice for my Mp3 'walkaround the errands' playlist. 

And one more bit... I am not sure I was the only one, but I loved the ruins in the story... The gate that leads to Peper Harow, which was once obviously a far more impressive structure..  The name itself means 'Pagan temple'. It's a private village nowadays - like it was in the old days :D Lean tower ruin when the camera follows the army about to face the invading french, and down to the hill-side-canvas white horse (though not quite as enchanting as the Uffington one), erected by the extinct druids, stoned on mead :D

             People tend to forget how magical old Britain used to be..

This past week has been a carousel nightmare :))

I had the pics framed and shipped off. And baggies. So that's that. 

I created another persona, which is to become my photographic alter ego: Eve Of Cleves...

And above all that, I've mail ordered the gear and will try to post the money for it and then we'll see.. And wait :s I've settled for two prime Ls and a couple of extras, though nothing epic. This is to begin with. Indeed. The strange, manic, indecisive ride will soon be over... and then a lifetime of trying to best the ranks of my critics begins.. I suppose Eve of Cleves has to admit her smallness and aim for greatness while exercising some huge scale of patience and humility in the while. In this medium, as opposed to the overrun paper, I should no longer have that many excuses. But I should indeed aim very very high.

Today's two O.o happenstances....

First day of doggy school. We were happy nervous when we drove, the six of us, but once there (General cleverly bailed out and took my spot by the stands photographing, on account of still being sick..), I felt like I was about to run and hide. I haven't been this exposed, tiny and supposed to be obedient since I've joined the army ten years back. My instinct to argue, fight, explain, voice my feelings and blatantly disagree, have been put down like dead balloons by the scary teacher lady. She would say such totally reasonable things, such us: "This dog will never be a hunter, until she is forced to focus on what you want her to focus on; obey what you tell her and not pay attention to everything except your authority. As soon as you begin to obey the rules, she will follow your example, but understanding authority is the first, foremost and cardinal rule and key to having an intelligent and loyal animal...."

            The duck?!....

            We were by no means bad at the lessons, quite good actually, but nowhere near good enough to prove she belongs to this class (They wanted her in the youngest one, but i argued she already knows all that).. I was so afraid the teacher woman will say she's too young to concentrate... In the end I was SO tired, so in need to run and hide behind the General, or a big tree, I was willing to do everything Lyra was supposed to do, just to be praised. When the woman explained tasks, I physically did them instead of the dog, without even realizing. I mean, man?!

...

The second was an hour after when we got home and I begged the General to go have coffee with me across the street, to cool down. (He was scared, too, he just won't admit it, but I'd like to see him come Tuesday, when it's his turn.)

          The other day he expressed an interest in photography, so, thrilled I have a chance to talk to him about something I'm deeply keen on, I tried to explain the relations between the shutter speed, aperture, lenses, camera bodies, etc.... And as eager as I was, I managed to say, after every three minutes: "No, wait. no, hang on, actually, it's exactly the other way around. Let me.. Okay, no, forget what i just said, I need to tell you this from another point of view..."

            After half an hour, when my coffee's gone cold and his cake melted, he was looking at me like this:

 

We did try some fancy pastry, though. Bit heavy on the walnut side, but kind of redeeming of my opinion of the place.

Have to go to Velenje's new hot spot called Lucifer - they are getting quite famous and these were the chocolates i bought that they produced, to sample (though here they look a bit battered already, because I had them in the bag while manhandling the dog down the street :D (or the otherway around :p)