The idea of receiving a fairly nice paycheck for shooting a hell of a lot of pots, pans and other shiny, round objects sends me into a descending spiral of panic and depression. It's not panic and depression in the form of hair pulling, drunken binges or car crashes. It's just when I find time to take a short break, to sit in a coffee shop with a cookie while waiting for conflicting, unconfirmed schedules to sort themselves out, I tend to question a lot of things: my choice of work, my commitment to personal expression, my talent or the lack of it.

Times like these, it's comforting to have friends. Haha. Also, it's just panic. After things (or when I) settle down, I remember that this was the plan to begin with: work as photographer so that I can afford to take my own pictures. I remember the places where the job has brought me, and the people I've met. I remember that, because of the job, I've met a lot of my good friends and have been given the opportunity to meet (and shoot) people who've influenced my life. Also the job pays enough so that I can get Chinese dinners and buy a lot of books. Maybe I just need a vacation. Or maybe I just need to stop griping about not doing personal work, and do personal work.

Once in awhile, I announce out loud that I am in a rut.

what we lost

RIP Alexis Tioseco. 1981-2009.

Jody Rogac

I'm in this Goethe-Institut sponsored workshop right now with German photographer, Espen Eichhofer, and we're supposed to be thinking of portraits. Being bad at photographing people, and liking to shoot spaces more, I'm tempted to argue that I am shooting "portraits of a place." But that would be copping out so I am... endeavoring to shoot people for this workshop.

Speaking of portraits, I like the Jody Rogac's.

(Via Feature Shoot)

I live in the city where people are conscious of the company, or the lack of it, that one keeps. I say that because whenever people find out that I sometimes watch movies or take lunches by myself, I get funny looks, or comments about having to have friends, or what not. I have friends, great friends, even. But I've also figured out how to do a lot of things alone, and there's some sort of fun and/or comfortable solitude to be derived from it. You get to do things on your own time, you get to get some reading done.

One of the things people should do alone is to watch gigs. I tried this out last night when I arrived at a gig around an hour before any of my friends showed up. I sat in the back, at the bar, among fellow stragglers. These people seemed to be there for the music,which is how it should be in this city of scenesters. I know for sure one guy was in it for the music. He was the band's manager. Haha.

Anyway, last night, for some time, I took comfort in being an anonymous appreciator of the experience of music played live. And it's cool that, among us sitting in the back, there is a camaraderie from this shared experience that manifests itself in the exchange of knowing looks and heads starting to nod to the beat as one.