black fur in the pawn
Someone used to like this toy… Maybe even “loved” the hell out of it. But it grew up, couldn’t deal, hit the sauce. Who knows?
Been juggling. Watched the Rousey v Correa waste of 40 seconds and the Malignaggi (not looking it up) v Garcia with my boy. Hype to fight ratio is horrifically imbalanced. Couple days later I see the end results of a hawk vs a pigeon. No hype necessary.
Hawk wouldn’t wait. The pigeon did. Hawk flew off with it before I could grab the DSLR
I finally got some work out of a client that I had pursued for many years. At the end of it all, counting the the time, the years of pursuit, the gig won’t be worth the payout. Don’t devalue your efforts. Someone else is always willing to do that for you.
But I do dig the challenge. Newness. You’ve seen what the longstanding references get you. Newness brings the initial jolt of energy. Maybe it can be ridden into better situations. With that, I went to a crowd sourcing seminar at Film Independent. I met a cat whose unstated mission was to meet everyone there. I watched in horrified admiration as I am not wired that way. I’m slowing down because he caught me before I could escape. I have to respect that.
I’ve been trying to get up and go work since 3 am. Let me put this phone down and see it through. Adiós
A shoot scheduled with a young boxer left me with my teeth intact but my schedule blown. Arriving at the location, I see traffic cops getting out of their cars. The street lights are out. It shows how little people know traffic rules (and how incredibly inconsiderate people are) here when you see the variety of violations mount when the lights are dead. Next, it’s street sweeping day but I don’t have to hike too far and I had decided early no extra gear – Just two cameras in hand and one extra lens. At the gym, though I was told by the boxer that he had cleared the shoot, gym management verified that was
not true wrong but we worked it out. However the power was not out only on the street lights, it was the entire neighborhood so I prepared for high ISO and slow shutter which means NOISE and motion BLUR.
I attempted angles to keep the other boxers out of frame or caught in a mush of bokeh. Boxing was the first sport that had caught my eye as a child but this was the first time I had shot anything boxing related. Every athlete to me is a kid now but they had several kids (early teens) to mid-20s dudes training. What struck me since my last fight was just how expensive it has gotten but I guess I’m somewhat trapped in pony express retro-thought. In those pioneer days, a couple of parks had rings and low to no-cost training. There was always an old man a couple of blocks away that would train you, so it seemed. Anyway, it was a well-equipped straight forward gym that would have needed some a little extra lighting to add more drama to the shots. But that wasn’t going to happen anyway given the tenuous standing of my shooting there and my available light decision.
I left thinking I needed to be somewhere by 3 but was of course was not informed until well after leaving that things had been pushed back. This year has been consistently weird like that. Scheduling, casting, resources… It all gets a bit weird without a break or a bit of effort to divert the ill momentum. That’s the horror and the reality of being a creative professional. In this case, it was the lone effort to fight Murphy’s law and come out with useable images. I won on points.
I desperately wanted Muhammad Ali to win every fight. I had been too young to see “The Fight of the Century” go down but I had seen film. Still in my single digits, Ali was shoveling verbiage and I was eating it up.
The hyperbole and propaganda had stuck with me since Ali v Frazier II. My first Halloween costume and couple of years earlier was a satin robe in black trim with the black construction paper words “The Greatest” sewn on. Vietnam: bad. Everything that was real and rhetoric blended together.
The fight started and I wanted Frazier’s head removed from his body. Blows were flying in waves and the current was raging and unpredictable. The intensity was getting too me. Fortunately, it was getting to Frazier, too. During the fight, I’m watching these two ridiculously skilled but aging boxers throw the kitchen sink at one another and I had started seeing things differently. Ali and Frazier both looked like relatives of mine. There was a complexity behind the fight press turmoil. Ali had called Frazier a “Tom” but had been publicly supported by Frazier during his suspension. Frazier spoke in terms that peppered a different understanding of my fetal world view but here he stood again battling as a champion. He had achieved so much in his endeavors.
It took a lot of blues to catch up to understanding some of the dynamics of emotions and revelations I had watching that fight. Years allowed me to appreciate Joe Frazier’s impact on my understanding of parallax, empathy and irrevocable links. I never met him but he did affect my life.