Instagram, photography, and the artist’s meal.

26 05 2011

Instagram

when i first heard about Instagram last year, i rolled my eyes and thought “oh just what the world needs, another social networking app”.  ok, so this one’s focussed on photography, but still, at first it seemed like a bit of a yawn.

in a somewhat unexpected change of heart, shortly before J & I headed up to Byron I signed up for Instagram.  in retrospect, something subconscious was telling me it might be a good way to “remember to breathe”, by consciously looking at my heavenly surroundings, seeing how they could be photographically captured, and sharing it with the world.  and i’m glad i did!

you see, i’ve never really been into photography.  i’ve had digicams for a decade, but either i rarely remember to use them – even if i remember to have it with me – or i take shitty not-even-amateur shots with them anyway, and they gather dust in an obscure folder on my computer, diligently backed-up for years on end.

the best camera to use is the camera you have with you.  and most of the time that means my iPhone.  and being an iPhone4, it takes a bloody good picture considering it’s a camera in a device whose primary function is not taking photos.

if you haven’t got a clue what i’m taking about, Instagram is an iApp, it’s free, and it’s a lot like Twitter, but with pictures instead of short sharp sentences and without most of the bad attitude you find littered on Twitter.  you take a picture with your iPhone (or import a pic from any camera into your iPhone), choose it from the picture library, optionally apply one of several photographic filters to give it a classic analogue camera feel, give it a caption &/or a geotag/location, and then post it for all the world to see.  and you can do all that in less than 30 seconds.  you can cross-post to several other online services (Facebook, Twitter, Flickr, Tumblr, etc), and being automatically and instantly online, it’s always there to look back upon.

there’s a whole lot more could be said about Instgram’s features and community, but you can check that out for yourself.  there’s something else i’ve become even more aware of, thanks to Instagram, than i already was.

Who are the 21st Century Professional (that is, for money) Photographers?

there are a huge number of “gifted” photographers these days.  forgive me if i’m underselling truly talented, gifted photographers, but after cruising around Instagram (and especially Flickr.com) you quickly realise that there really are an awful lot of people out there who know how to take a good photograph (i’m not one of them!), get the lighting and composition right, apply filtering appropriately, and many other subtleties, not the least of which is seeing the world from a different perspective than simply having your head – and camera – six feet off the ground and hoping for the best.

for a long time i’ve seen this as a devaluing of the traditional role of both professional and amateur photographers.  and i still think this is true; some traditional avenues to make a living from photography have shrunk dramatically.

for one niche example, just ask my dear friend Peter, the eye behind PetezImagez, someone who’s been honing his skills for longer than the 17 years i’ve known him, spending untold thousands of dollars on up-market gear, and who’s all but given up trying to get people to pay for the ‘vox-pop’ pictures he’s regularly employed to take of drug-fucked party bois n girls at gay dance parties (including the world renown Mardi Gras parties), or the wanna-be-model portfolio pictures he obsesses over.

being good at something isn’t enough, especially when so many Tom’s, Dick’s and Harry’s can put up such solid competition armed with only a mid-range digicam and Photoshop Express.

but perhaps the internet has opened up new opportunities too?  public image-banks, self-publishing, and online media are all new avenues for deriving income from photography.

but i think it’s ultimately broadened the gulf between professional and amateur photography.  not in the quality of their output, but in the intent and marketing of their work.  countless people can walk around with a point-n-shoot and undermine the income of “2nd-job photographers”.

unless you’re working in publishing or event photography, it’s those who posses the combination of education, technique, artistry, and compelling visual material with entrepreneurial flair who’ll be the money-makers from the title Photographer from now on.

here’s a few thumbnails of my pics posted to Instagram!

Instagram1Instagram2Instagram3Instagram4Instagram5Instagram6





Julia Gillard is a Post Tortoise

28 02 2011

yeah it’s been a while. admit it, you leaked just a little bit when you saw a new post from me ;)

gotta love my Mum, like many her generation, they still think forwarding jokes via email is a nifty thing to do :)

every once in a while one of these jokes will really get me giggling, like this morning.

While suturing up a cut on the hand of a 75 year old farmer, whose hand had been caught in the gate while working his cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to Julia Gillard, and her being our prime minister.

The  old farmer said, “Well, ya know, Julia is just a Post Tortoise.”

Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked,  “What’s a “Post Tortoise?”

The old farmer replied, “When you’re driving down a  country road and you come across a fence post with a Tortoise balanced on top, that’s a post Tortoise.”

The old farmer saw the puzzled look on the doctor’s face so he continued to explain. “You know she didn’t get up there by herself, she doesn’t belong up there, she doesn’t know what to do while she’s up there, she sure as hell isn’t goin’ anywhere, and you just wonder what kind of dumb bastard put her up there in the first place.”

:D





out with the old

1 12 2010

ok, i admit it.  i tend to hoard stuff.

it’s not like i have an attic with a lifetime’s collection of McDonalds wrappers, scifi action figures, & milk bottle foil tops, but despite the periodic shedding of junk that’s inevitable after a lifetime of house-moving every few years inculcated from my parent’s lifestyle (a story for another day), i still tend to accumulate more stuff than i ever need or are likely to use in the foreseeable future.

despite what i like to think of as a less-than-normal compliance to the consumerist lifestyle, there’s a few exceptions:  clothes, movie/tv media, & technology.  today i worked on my wardrobe.  i’ve given several bags of clothes to the Salvo’s over the last 4 years since i moved in here, and turfed a bunch of sneakers only recently, but after a couple of hours this afternoon, this is what i had culled:

3 of those piles are well over a foot high, more than 3 full garbage bags of jeans/pants, shorts, tshirts, shirts, jackets & hoodies, underwear, belts, beanies…  and i’m not done yet.  it’s less than half my wardrobe, stuff that’s either too small, too big, worn out, styled-out, or i never liked it in the first place.  hopefully the Salvo’s can find a new home for it.

i’m getting rid of this shit that’s been not just taking up space, space that i probably won’t have as much of in the new place with J, but a constant visible reminder of of the last 10 years of my life, some of which is good, but some not so much.  to make way for the new, you’ve gotta get rid of the old, literally and psychologically.

and that’s just my wardrobe.  i’ve got two draws of ‘emotional baggage’, & an office full of past-life techyjunk.  i can’t wait to shed more shit!

i’ve been reading some minimalist lifestyle bloggers recently, something that i think might go hand-in-hand with life Up North (or even a nomadic life).  perhaps i’m taking my first step toward that…





new chapter

22 11 2010

i’ve been itchy.  for a year or two.

metaphorically, of course, i haven’t visited one of those places where you’re likely to come home with more than you expected in quite a while.  oh wait…  um, nevermind.  i’ve been living in this 2 bedroom flat for over 4 years now.  i spent the majority of my ‘depression years’ here, and for the last 18 months i’ve felt the ‘itchy feet’ urge to move elsewhere; possibly on my own still, or possibly sharing with a friend.  i haven’t really understood why i’ve had that urge, until recently.

J & i have decided to move in together.

it’s a fairly monumental decision and change for me.  i’ve been single for more years than i care to admit.  and i’ve lived in a place on my own for 3/4 of the decade+ i’ve lived in Melbourne.

J & i have been getting along really well these past several months.  i love spending time with him, and always crave more.  we never argue or fight about anything, which is kinda weird given what a crotchety, tetchy, old curmudgeon i can be!  without any mutual discussion on our part, we always try to do different stuff, eat at different places, and get away for weekends – mutual rut avoidance.  as a former depressive, this is hugely beneficial for me – a partial definition of depression IS being in a rut.

though it wasn’t a straight-forward decision.  there’s advantages to us keeping things as they are.  J’s youngest brother, T, will be living with us, likely until mid-next year.  and his middle brother, C, is planning to move to Oz within the next year, and his mother might follow, too.  it’s likely C will need to live with us for a while too, until he gets on his feet.  with J still sharing with his ex, & his youngest brother T, & the likelihood of C replacing T next year, my place has been & would become even more a refuge for J away from all that.

regardless, another factor came into the decision.  aside from simply wanting to spend more time together, i want to make the most of however long we have together.  i’ve written in a previous post that J & i have quite different medium/long-term goals.  J wants to head overseas to live & work for a year or three.  i want to move to the NSW Northern Rivers area.  they’re not exactly compatible, sympathetic directions :).  but neither of us are in the right situation to do that, yet.  but in a year or three could well be a possibility, and i doubt i can postpone my deepest desire to move up there much longer than that.  hence, carpe diem.

after only 1 weekend of house-hunting, our first application was successful, and we’ve signed a lease on a 3 bedroom apartment in Richmond.  when pretending to be a gay couple while house-hunting with my friend A2 twice before, gay couples really do seem to be attractive to agents/landlords – it’s the quickest and most painless house-hunting process i’ve ever gone through!  if that hippy-spiritualist ethos – which goes something like “if it’s meant to be, The Universe will provide” – is anything to go by, perhaps we’re on the right track?

as my mind navigates the myriad issues & stuff to organise for the move, i’m buoyed by the potential & possibilities of this fundamental change, of shedding hopefully the last vestiges of old/bad/unhelpful habits & routines that infiltrated my life during The Depression Years, and taking the plunge with J.

though integrating two Mac geek’s stuff aint gonna be easy!

 





“depression – my story”, 1 year on.

11 08 2010

it’s not quite a year since i wrote “my story” for Riding4acause.org, but i’m feeling the urge to talk about this black dog thing again.  seems to be topical lately!

last October 09 i “woke up” and realised that the ground of life was rapidly rising to meet my slo-mo free-fall.  the consequences of 5 years of blocking out life in a haze of THC smoke loomed like a tsunami  SFX in Hollywood movie.  thus began a tumultuous process of getting my life back into sobriety, balance, positivity & connection.

i quit dope cold turkey, which was a huge step forward in clearing my head to re-engage with life.  curiously, this was easier than one might have expected, though i can’t really explain why.  i guess i’d been in the pot-hole-of-depression long enough to finally realise that nothing was going to change, until i changed.

i saw a psychologist for several months, turning over several of the rocks in my mental garden to see what scurried out.  i can see now there were significant contributors dating back at least 10-12 years (5-7 years before Dysthymia struck), all of which layered additively, like blankets over my life’s fire.  sometimes it’s helpful to simply become aware that specific factors in your past have had an impact you were previously unaware of, and sometimes you need to dissect things a little more.  that’s where a qualified psychologist can really help.  i may yet go back for more, if and when i feel the need to peel away some more layers of my onion.  the $80/session Medicare rebate certainly helped there, too!

getting back into my physical self has also been critical.  it’s hard to beat the natural high that comes from a mildly exhausting cardio or gym workout at least a few days each week, especially when it’s one of the first things i do in the day, it leaves me feeling good for the rest of the day, and helps with sleep, too.  sure, it’s hard to break old lazy habits and establish momentum, but i just take it one day at a time, and i don’t berate myself if i miss a day’s scheduled exercise.

having several friends who have used or currently use anti-depressants, i carefully weighed up that option for myself.  i believe they can be of tremendous benefit, even necessity, for some people.  but my gut instinct was that my issues were more – for want of a better word – situational & attitudinal than brain-biochemical, and thus far i’m not regretting that decision.  i’m also wary of the “life on ADs is ‘nice’. nice can kinda suck though” factor, as articulated so eloquently by my friend Richo.

and last but not least, there’s the people factor.  one of those ‘blankets’ over my life of the previous 5 years has been a major erosion of my ‘inner circle’ of friends for a bunch of reasons, leaving me feeling isolated and restless.  i don’t make friends easily or quickly, so it’s a slow process, but i’ve pushed myself to connect with new people, and reconnect with some ‘lapsed’ friends.  it makes a hell of a difference.  it’s nice to complain of not having enough hours in the day when the main reason (other than work) is time spent with friends, instead of time spent in the pot-hole-of-depression in front of the tv!

it’s an ongoing process, a work in progress, and some say that’ll always be so (i’m not so sure about that).  but it’s a state of mind so different to where i was only a year ago, it’s starting to feel like a receding memory.  my spiral upwards out of depression and the things that propel it bear a curious symmetry (equal but opposite) to the habits that dragged me down into it years ago.  i couldn’t have done it without the support & understanding of my friends & clients alike, a professional psychologist, and a huge bunch of awesomely inspirational people on Twitter :).








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