I woke up hungover today. Checking the iPhone, I had half a dozen Vinted receipts for woman’s clothes. Downstairs I had left my electric heater on, full turbo mode. I remembered the scrapbook I was working on, full of inkjet images Pritt-sticked inside, illegible writing around them. Everything smelt a bit Ardbeg.
The night before, I started planning the next model shoot. Today I seem to be sharing a shoot that’s not yet happened, but this is the battle we never see. In some ways, this is the most important part. Too many things are racing through my mind, what kind of images do I even want to make? I cannot even nail that question down never mind specific shoot concepts or details.
Deep creative time is elusive to me. As I get older, I experience those little “Zoned out” moments less. When music transports you and seeing new beautiful imagery stirs you. Legally mind-altering drugs, a late night without being tired, dimmed lights and headphones music seem to open the gates a little wider.
Half smashed on 3 shots of whisky and stuffing my face with Tesco’s filthiest budget chocolate, I’ve been creating a little scrap book. I’ve been picking images I find inspiring. A little one-man Séance. As creatively fulfilling as a model shoot. I like the tactility of working with real prints rather than saving images into online albums. It allows me to sit down with the images, shuffle them around into groups and figure out exactly why I am drawn to them. With a Lamy in hand I can then mind dump around them with novelty Ink.
A mind hacking experiment with impossible to prove conclusions, I have abandoned most image platforms for inspiration. I’ve been going through my bookshelves and purchasing a few art magazines here and there to counterpoint my heavily vintage photography inspired books. My theory is too meandering for this post, but I feel I need much less image simulation, not endless streams of random work. If I am no longer looking online for other’s work, it follows suite I also don’t need to post on such platforms either.
This month I tried a copy of Beautiful Bizarre magazine. Honestly it blows the shit out of most, if not all images I have seen online the last few months. Sometimes It pays to see what art curators want to publicise rather than what a load of random's on the net have loved. Its overall vibe is a little too girly and pretty for my taste, but its close to the artwork I want to see more of. I can always try searching for a different magazine next time. It could be argued with better digital networking skills I could have found these images myself, but I tried and didn’t.
Returning to my next shoot plan, inspired by the Henry Peach Robinson book. Fully aware many viewpoints in this book have aged badly, there is one style of portrait I am burning to create. Elegant compositions, seated Woman in black dresses in the shadows, their faces contrasting out of the blacks, then almost unapologetically low down in the image are the hands that form the second point of contrast in the image, that important foreground keynote that stabilizes the composition. This was a staple composition for painted portraits and early photography. Hands often end the bottom of the compositions in much of Hill and Adamson’s work. Clothing is also simpler, blacks and whites used to provide the contrasts, not relying fully on chiaroscuro. Vinted is my new best friend for getting model clothing.
I am still unsure if this composition direction will work. Some advice in Pictorial effects in photography is a bit naff today. Photography found a happier looser composition to painting. More fleeting and whimsical, like life, not rigid and masterfully mapped out like a great painting. Nevertheless, I am going for it next time, full on ‘boss mode’ Peach Robinson.
Now fired up over compositions, I am unsure how to work my bloody concepts into the images. That’s work for another whisky fuelled Saturday night. I could have a fun shoot trying out this compositional concept, done right it could produce some lovely work. But what marks have I then added to already established format of portraiture? I keep scolding myself for letting my ideas fall by the wayside. Im not getting any younger, times ticking. In the words of whom I’ve forgotten, Orwell, or Eliot perhaps;
“Give up that easy, no, he won't have it, he knows
His whole back's to these ropes, it don't matter, he's dope
He knows that but he's broke, he's so stagnant, he knows
When he goes back to this mobile home, that's when it's
Back to the lab again yo, this whole rhapsody
Better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him”
