hey, the newest year is here, i would usually say, “it’s a time for reflection,” but i have a different outlook now that i am legitimately “old.” i’m more into questioning as a new way of going at the other half or so of my existence. the “what can, what if, and what would” as i examine the where next of this life…anyway, have a happy new year. i’m going to say, “why not?”
so yeah, they say Halloween has taken over as the second most popular holiday…in terms of spending cash to celebrate, decorate and expectorate…as it’s gained in popularity, mine seems to have waned. not that i dislike fright. i actually love it, i just had to tacky, dumb commercialism of scares…i guess that’s all part of getting old. nonetheless, enjoy your halloween in whatever way you please. maybe i will pull out some hitchcock or hooper, some carpenter or kubrick… anyway, be scared.
“Ultimately, sports are just about as close to what one would call the truth as it is possible to get in this world.” –Harry Crews
if you aren’t a fan of sport you probably think all the hyperbole about kinship, brotherhood and soldiers together in battle is just a bunch of nonsense that boys use to justify that somehow playing a game is an important task. having spent more than a little time watching boys play together as a team (i played a little myself even) it’s hard to deny the bond that grows amongst team mates. sure, it can at times be cliqueish, it can be ever-changing, and it doesn’t always happen for all kids. but i know for a fact that when boys go at a singular task together, and really, truly buy-in to caring about each other and have a willingness to fight as hard for their team mate as they would for themselves, that a connection is made that makes for a victory of spirit–that win or lose on the field–makes for pretty special trophies. sports ain’t for everybody, but they should be.
When I go downtown
I always wear a corduroy suit
cause it’s made of a hundred gutters
that the rain can run right through
but a lonely man can’t make a move
if he can’t even bring himself to choose
between a pair of black and a pair of brown shoes.
black and brown blues – Silver Jews
we spend so much time walking the fine line of fitting in and sticking out that it’s tiring. photography is not only a metaphor but a means to illustrate this need. just look at instagram and facebook and the importance put on the amount of “likes” someone receives for their efforts of trying to shoot a different “selfie” (that fucking word is abhorrent). “Look at me, I’m an individual…I hope you like my individuality so much that I am accepted by you…but maybe above you, definitely not below you, just like me for being so different, yet not so different that you don’t accept me…” it must be hellish to be young and try to navigate the constant need for relevance in a social sphere that is built on irrelevance of self on any real level–outside of selling us more page views, clicks and new shoes, socks, supplements and hamburgers. i’m waiting for the backlash where we all decide we don’t want anyone to see what we are doing instead of the need for validation of everything we do. so yeah, here’s some bikes.
a quick tale of two boys who achieved the first part of a late spring/early summer goal. one (not pictured here) made it to NYC, as an intern at Hearst Publishing, settled into a room at NYC and will spend the next 3 months becoming something he wasn’t before he left Lexington. my heart is full for him. amazed at his guts and talent it took to get himself in the position to be there. he’s already won and doesn’t even know it. the second, pictured above, helped his team make it through the first round of the Kentucky State Cup. his team had a tremendous first weekend, executing 15 goals while giving up zero, zilch, nadda. he finished with a pair of goals and 3 assists on the weekend and some massive center midfield play in some important matches. so for a pair of boys, a nice weekend on the way to bigger missions as the summer progresses. forward they go. i just try and get a few pictures of it.
this photo is a classic example as to why i’m just not really a good photographer. no patience, no willingness to watch the scene unfold through the viewfinder, no intellectual moxie when it comes to “the decisive moment.” i guess that is why there are always too many words to accompany the images around here. always searching to explain the context of my clicks of the shutter.
you see, without the context, this is just two boys running, in soccer strips, happily across the green grass. the photographer (me) is in the wrong position, behind them, missing the joy in their faces. i’m also too far away and the frame is basically uninviting. but when you know the context, or i should say, “because i know the context,” there’s something more to the image. this moment is part of a series of moments, some photographed, some not, that included sixty-eight and a half minutes of soccer, a struggle, falling behind, tying the score late and then a game winner before the 70th minute that secures promotion next season to the top league available for the team.
only seconds before this frame was captured, my boy managed to find the back of the net with 21 other boys crowded into the box. and with the goal, he sprinted out of the crowd towards the other end of the field in exaltation with teammates streaming behind. this shot captured him and the first kid to him on the sprint, touching his back in congratulations sure, but there’s so much more than just that. context–team, brotherhood, competition, battle, family, victory, relief it’s all there, i just didn’t do my job showing enough of it. but i assure you we both won’t forget the context, with or without the good photography to prove it.
in a little more than a week, old boy #1 moves to NYC for 11 weeks for an internship in the very real world of publishing. proud, oh, I am. amazed at the courage he has, oh, i am. this week i am going to cram in a bunch of photography, it’s been awhile since i actually took a photo of him that wasn’t hurried and with a phone, some words, but only about what an adventure he will have and maybe a hint of things hidden in the cracks of the city. i can’t wait for him to live and learn in what is the greatest city in the world. i know his dance card is full and his life is transitioning to one of his own, the way it should be. but none of that ever lessens the size of the lump in my throat.
we, as spectators, get spoiled by professional athletes, musicians, artists, actors, dancers, etc. by how they make their chosen craft look effortless and at times just plain, easy. but we’re smarter than that right. the hours of practice, sweat, blood and want make it so much more than we could ever see.