Saturday, July 25, 2015

Family Tree Photoshop Tutorial and Free Template

A family tree I did for one of my parents (with some info removed here for privacy) The "frames" are from a vintage photo.

If you Google "Family Tree Template," here's a screenshot of what you'll get:

I don't want to disrespect any of those drawings of trees, but they're a bit too juvenile for a grown-up person's wall. 

Martha Stewart, on the other hand, has done some stunning family trees, but nothing with both photos and names/dates. She has a really cool diamond-shaped arrangement with photos, for example, but it's more about décor than information.

When I made a family tree for one of my parents as a gift, I opted for a style that was suited to the vintage of the photos and the style of the home where it would be hanging. Some of the info has been removed from the screenshot for the sake of privacy, but you get the idea. Sadly, I was also faced with the problem of not having photos for everyone (we lost almost everything in a warehouse fire when I was little and living outside the country), so when lacking a photo, I opted to put the name/date in the frames. I made a 16x20 inch print, so that's the size of the template (but you can resize it). To help remedy the sad state of the internet's family tree photo templates, I am sharing this one with you for free along with a tutorial. The file for the template is large (about 163mb it is a Photoshop .psd file), so be patient when downloading. (a zipped file is still 64mb. Do the regular one if it gives you problems) The template will look like this:


a closer detail...

(Did you notice I left out that decorative thing around the name? sorry, but I left it out in the template because it's from a digital stamp set I bought ages ago.)

And a view of what your Layers palette will look like (tons of folders! one per person)


It looks daunting, but once you know how to do one folder, you know how to do them all. Almost. The "child" folder (where the person whose genealogy you're depicting goes) is slightly different. Here's a look inside that folder
:

 Click on the folder and you will see four layers. The bottom layer is the type layer. Double click the "T" (not the words next to it, but the "T" itself) and you will see the "Type name here" text get highlighted. You can now type a name in its place.


In the type menu bar, you can change whatever you like (color, size, font). If you hold the cursor anywhere but directly over the type, you can drag the text to recenter it. 

One layer up from the text layer is the frame layer, which you will leave as is, but feel free to toggle the eye on and off to see what it is.


The next layer up is also going to be left as is (see, that's not so bad!). This is the clipping mask layer. You can learn more about clipping masks in my wedding template tutorial, but otherwise, just keep reading.

The top layer in this folder is "photo goes here." Sounds self explanatory, but your photo will not magically resize to fit the window, so here is what you do:

1. Open the photo you want to use (I suggest keeping all the photos black and white or sepia for better continuity)...


2. Select it (command-a for Mac, ctrl-a for PC) and copy it (command-c or ctrl-c)


3. Now move back into the window of the template and make sure that the appropriate "photo goes here" layer is active (just click once on it). See how that layer is highlighted? That means it's active. I know this sounds super basic, but I sometimes get rushed and forget to select the layer, so if you're like me, a reminder is in order.


4. With the "photo goes here" layer active, paste (Mac: command-v or PC: ctrl-v) the photo you just copied onto that layer. 

And don't freak out if it looks like this....


Or if you can't even see it (provided you can see it in the highlighted layer). Your photo is hovering back there, masked by everything else. You will only see whatever is in that rectangle of the frame. A quick way to find your photo (and you will have to do this anyway so...) is to hit "transform" (command-t or ctrl-t). You can see by the outlines of the transform box that the photo is way bigger than what I need:

To transform your photo without distorting it...
hold down "shift", grab one of the corners, and and pull in to resize. You can click anywhere within the outline of your photo and drag around to see how you're doing. See, it's getting closer...


continue the shift corner dragging and moving around until you like how it appears in the window (note: but make sure it's not smaller than the space of the inside frame.) This seems about right:


Now hit return and accept the transformation.
It's magical!

Now you will be more or less repeating those steps for each folder (each folder is labeled with the person it represents). If it makes you feel better to keep things tidy, click the little arrow next to the folder you just completed to hide its contents.

Now work your way up to the next folder...


You will follow the exact same steps as above, but now you have two text layers (a date layer and a name layer).

Note that the frame sizes get slightly smaller with each generation. It was just a matter of fitting things in a way that looked right.

This isn't a super fast process, but trust me, it's a lot faster than building it from scratch. Just a couple more things and we're done:

What about those layers without photos?
Chances are, you won't be missing the exact same photos that I was (unless you're my sister). So what if you want to change something? For example, look at those top two folders (a photo one: maternal grandmother's mother and a date-only one: maternal grandmother's father). 



Let's say you're lucky enough to have photos for both. You will want to get rid of the date-only one and replace it with a photo one. Start by turning off the visibility (the eye) of the layer you're replacing so you can see a blank spot to fill:


Now duplicate the entire maternal grandmother's mother folder (make sure the folder is active and hit command-j for a Mac or ctrl-j for PC). This gives a copy. With your newly copied folder active, you can use the move tool (v) to drag it into the blank spot:



Now you have two "grandmother's mother" layers, one of which you may want to rename to avoid confusion. You can trash the folder you don't need or just leave it invisible.

Final touches...

Maybe you don't like that beige color (too peachy? too band-aid like? Hey, it worked with my parents' color scheme.) You can change it by using the paint bucket tool to pour a new color into the "background color" layer:


Make sure you're happy with how all the text is aligned. Save a layered copy in case you want to change something later. The size is set to 16x20 (at 320 dpi, which is what Costco uses), so it will work great for 8x10, but you may have to do some adjustments to the canvas size (sorry, but I can't bear to continue a tutorial on that right now) and then crop in order to get different aspect ratios.

Maybe at some point I'll do a version that goes back even more, or something really modern, but for now, I hope this will make the world of family tree charts look a little less like it belongs on Dora the Explorer. 

Good luck! Let me know if you try it.

note: This is free, so please do not try to sell or get profit by redistributing the template.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Le retour...

Paris Café Window, Marc Olivier
Bastille Day is as good a day as any to start posting again. And so, in honor of the French national holiday, a few photos of Paris from my recent "Circular" series. The series is inspired by the circular snapshots made from the 1888 Kodak No. 1 cameras. Rather than replicate the vintage look with sepia, I wanted to do a crisp black and white. The photos are on a square white background because 1. it looks great to have that white space and 2. who has a circular frame? They look extra cool printed high gloss on metal. Check out the full gallery on olivierphotography.com, where you have loads of size and print material options.

Blatant self promotion? Of course. Unlike so many web sites, I don't run ads all over my page. I had a brief experiment with affiliate links at one point, but decided to abandon even that. However, as my views inch closer to 1 million, I can't help but think what role my lack of "monetization" may have played in the waning number of posts over the years. Hence, my return to posting will no doubt be accompanied by a few invitations for you to visit some of my Paris galleries the next time you're hunting for a gift:

Citroën, Place des Vosges (Marc Olivier)


There are other images to check out in the gallery, and more will be added in the future. My favorite is a grid of nine circular photos. Any of prints can be any (sqaure) size, from 5"x5" to 40"x40".



Paris 9-dot grid, Marc Olivier

Monday, December 23, 2013

A conversation with Steve Bannos: actor, writer, and gargantuan photo dealer

Before I start with my long write-up up of a much longer conversation, let me give you a little background:

One Sunday night a couple of weeks ago, I decided to browse eBay for some old photobooth photos, for no particular reason. I came across listings with titles that cracked me up. I noticed that the funny ones were invariably from a seller named "Gargantua." Let me give you a few examples:
PLAIN JANE WOMAN REFUSES TO SHOW JOY OF ANY KIND!
HANDSOME BLACK TEEN BOY LAUGHS for NO APPARENT REASON!
PUG FACE BABY GIRL WISHES SHE WAS DEAD!

GLOWING EYES BLACK CAT KITTEN & OUTCAST FARM GIRL


MOM PULLS GHOST BABY OUT from HELL ETHER!

You get the idea. So, I started reading the photo captions from my iPad and showing them to my wife and kids. We must have been reading them for an hour. We were all dying of laughter. The next night, I was still thinking about the brilliant listings and I thought, "Hey. I should contact the seller. They really deserve to know that they have provided so much entertainment for my family."
So, in the "ask the seller a question" box on eBay, I told the seller that I thought the listings were pure genius. He wrote back and thanked me for the compliment, and included his name, Steve Bannos. Out of curiosity, I googled the name and was shocked to see that the first two hits were IMDB and Wikipedia. It turns out, Steve Bannos hadn't just entertained me for one evening; he had entertained me with his writing and acting on Freaks and Geeks (one of the best shows ever), and countless tv shows and movies (tons—just look at the imdb listing or check out this Youtube demo reel from 2009).

So I wrote back. I told him that my suspicions of his comedic genius were confirmed by my cyber-stalking. I asked if he would consider an interview for my blog. He obliged, and sent me his number. At this point, this was me:

(video of Ed Grimley, which apparently doesn't show up on iPads)

He was the Pat Sajak to my Ed Grimley. Not that I'm the "fan" type. I see tons of famous people every year at the Sundance Film Festival and I don't even bother to bring my camera (although I do have a bit of a crush on Lake Bell and would have had my picture taken with her at the premiere of her movie last year were it not for the brand new zit that had emerged on my nose that day. Later, I realized, oh yeah. I write Photoshop tutorials. duh.) But the thing with Steve Bannos was that I connected with the wit of his eBay listings before I knew who he was. And the more I researched about him in prep for the interview, the more I liked him.

Readers of my blog have "Gargantua's" keen eye for found photos (i.e. "vernacular photography"—but I don't like that term because it feels condescending) and his hilarious listings to thank for my return to this blog after a two-month hiatus (the demands of What The French?! loom large).

Steve Bannos, via imdb
The following is an excerpt from the conversation I had with Steve last week:
[quick note to readers whose genteel sensibilities are alarmed at profanity: I've scaled the interview down to a PG-rating thanks to an asterisk or two, but I'm not cutting out every single word that might offend, so just deal with it or don't read]

Which came first, acting or photography?

Oh, acting came way way before photography. Acting came in High School. I did school plays and we did what was called "contest plays" where you would put up a one act in one hour and you would take that one hour and you'd set it up, you'd do the play, and then you'd strike it—all within one hour. And if you went over the hour you were disqualified. I had the lead role my senior year, and there was a talent scout from a university. He offered a scholarship, and that's how it all began.

So then, when did the photography collecting start?

The photography collecting came in the early 90s. I was always a flea market kind of guy. I have the collector gene, definitely. My father was a collector, and it's just absolutely a gene.

Does that mean you collect other things?

Oh, I collect so much stuff. There's just something attractive about rummaging through old shit. I've just got the gene and I pursue it...And then I just happened to stumble upon a box of snapshots at one of the flea markets, and I bought the whole box, because I'm kind of obsessive that way...So that's how that started, just collecting.

Then around '97, someone told me about this new thing called eBay. And I went, let me take a look if there are snapshots on ebay. So, I started as a buyer, and then I thought, you know what, I can totally do this. And it was the early days of eBay, so I thought, I'm going to do something that no one else does. I'm going to do a persona, and I'm going to present myself as Gargantua the Gorilla and write titles that would really draw people in. You see, in 1997, there weren't thumbnails of the image—thumbnails came around, maybe 2000—so it was all about grabbing someone within however many characters.

So were your titles always pretty crazy?

My titles were originally designed for people to read them and go, "What the F***!" What is this guy talking about?" And they'd have to click through, and then once they've clicked through, I'm hoping I've got the hook in their cheeks. Because, originally, it was all about the text. It was like writing a tagline for a movie poster.

Yeah. So, when I cyber-stalked you, I read on Wikipedia that you write taglines?

I do, and it's just completely independent of eBay, but it's so similar. I write taglines for movie posters, and it's the greatest job in the world.

Do you have any favorites that you've written?

I've written thousands and thousands of them, and to have three or four picked out of thousands, you're doing good. There are tens of thousands written for any one movie, because they go around to different agencies, and everyone in house is writing them, so if yours gets picked you're doing pretty good. The last one I did that got picked was about five years ago for a movie called Ghost Town, about a guy with the ability to see dead people...

Uh-huh. [laughing] Sounds really original.

Do you remember that movie?

No, I don't know why I don't know it.

Greg Kinnear, Téa Leoni, and Ricky Gervais were in it. Ricky Gervais plays this mean-spirited dentist, and so, anyway, the tagline was He sees dead people...And they annoy him.


via Imdb
That's good. I like that.

And I found out by driving past a bus stop and seeing the poster.

You did? They didn't feel like telling you that it had been chosen?

No... So, I saw the poster and I said, I think...I think I wrote that. And it was probably a month later, that I actually went and opened the document and did a search, and it came up, and I was like, I did write it!

I also heard that you guest wrote for Saturday Night Live?

Yeah, I did in 1999-2000, I wrote on four different episodes.

How'd that happen?

It was an interesting experience. I was writing on Freaks & Geeks at the time, so I was kind of in the spotlight, and I had a little bit of a wave going with NBC, as well as, I am friends with Steve Higgins, who was the producer of SNL right beneath Lorne Michaels. That was a brief period of time when they were just flooded with money and they were hiring guest writers left and right. I had the opportunity of being hired as a staff writer, but it just wasn't possible because I lived in L.A., and I had just gotten married...But it was really interesting, and I'm glad I did it. It was just another weird little feather in my cap. I'm glad I pursued something and did well and then moved on. That's kind of what I do. I like to do stuff and then say, ok, I did it, and then move on.

I totally get that. I do that too, but with completely useless accomplishments like becoming 10th in the world in Fruit Ninja.

I'm sure you, like me, could never ever have a 9-to-5 job where you're sitting at a desk looking at a clock—

Right. [laughing] That's why I'm on the phone in my pajamas at noon. So, anyway...when I first read your eBay listings, I thought, These are genius! And then when I found out who you were it made more sense. So I wanted to ask you, how do you write your listings? How long does it take?

What I do is, every week I put up about 70 auctions, so I pick 70 snapshots and it's not just random. My listings are in a certain order. Like, the first group of photos is couples, and they're 1930s and then 1950s, and then men, and then women, and then children, so my regular buyers know exactly what they're going to see every week.

First, I pick the 70 photos and put them in order. And then when it's time to write the descriptions, I really, really have to psyche up for it.

Really?

Yes, because it's a grind. I know that if I sit down and don't do anything else, it's going to take an hour and a half—but it's just an hour and a half of, like, beating my head against my desk because I'm not only writing titles, I'm also measuring the photos and typing in the condition, and making sure everything is perfect, and it's a f@#king grind. [...] I usually end up doing it at about 1 a.m., when everyone's asleep.

In fact, you were kind of a catalyst, when you wrote me that complimentary email about my titles, I thought, I gotta get back on my game, I gotta write funnier titles. It takes just a tiny bit more effort. I wrote one a week ago specifically thinking about you and it sold immediately. It was a photobooth photo of a gangster guy from 1930s—totally Al Capone era—and there were spots all over it, like bubbles in a cartoon, and the description was "Insane Gangster Is Seeing Syphilitic Hallucination Spots." It sold immediately. The title sold that, I mean, come on.

Insane Gangster Is Seeing Syphilitic Hallucination Spots

I have a lot of really long term, steady, loyal customers that really dig it [the listings]. I've made so many friends on eBay that have become almost as close as family.

I noticed that you have a Facebook page called Found Photo Room. Are those people that you met through eBay or people that you've met when you're out buying photos or what?

Mostly they're eBay people. Four of the five of us who started the page are all eBay sellers, and we've communicated over the years. I knew a lot of these people for almost 10 years before I ever met them in person, which just happened in New York about a year ago. So that's kind of cool. I've had these long term relationships with people I'd never even met. And they sent me gifts when my child was born...so...what's come out of eBay is really wonderful in that respect. Just wonderful.

Nobody would think that eBay would be a social network, but I guess when you have a niche market...

Totally, because us oddballs attract each other. It's like we get each other. We'll sit in a room and talk about why a photo's cool. Geeks. We get each other.

[ed. note: lest the reader should think this all rosy about eBay, it's not. In fact, another thing people seem to have in common is a shared dislike of eBay's practices such as forced use of Paypal, a lopsided feedback system, and other things too long to transcribe here.]

I noticed you've got 100% positive ratings out of nearly 19,000 ratings. How do you manage that?

If someone doesn't like something, I'm like, f***ing send it back, no problem.

[laughter]

This is what happened a couple of times: "1960s Photo: Green Army Men Engaged in Battle on Red Shag Carpet"—You probably already know what it looks like. It's a little square photo from the 60s, up close, a fun abstract thing. Well, the person bought it and a week later I get an email from the buyer and he's incensed, and he writes "This is NOT what I bought!!! I bought army men! Where are my army men?!" And I'm like, Actually, this IS what you bought! You didn't buy army men. You thought you were buying army men...So when there's that kind of insane people, I back away slowly with my back to the door. I send back the money. Keep the f***ing photo, I don't even care. I'll even put disclaimers on stuff, often, in red text, like, "Again. you're buying a PHOTO, not the item in the photo"

[laughter] ha! 
So, I remember the listing "supremely bored expressionless black woman"...


"SUPREMELY BORED EXPRESSIONLESS BLACK WOMAN"

I know, and that's going to sell it. I mean, this is the most boring photo in the world.

That was brilliant. When I read that title—I never would have looked at the photo, it was the title that made me look at it—I thought, This needs to be a book. And to me, that's the title of the book. It draws you in. It reminded me of John Baldessari who worked with found photos. I have already created your book in my mind. In my mind, the book has your found photos with the listing titles, and I decided that Martin Parr needs to write the preface and that it would be published with either a little press like Alec Soth's Little Brown Mushroom, or with Steidl or with Chronicle Books if you wanted the mass distribution. Have you ever actually thought about making a book out of your collection?

I've been asked so many times...

But?

I have so many different categories of snapshots that I collect that I could do probably four or five or six different books of specific things or concepts, but I've never really pursued it for a couple of reasons: It's not going to be money at the end of the rainbow. It would be a fun way to share my stuff, yes, but I don't have the time to do it, and I don't have the passion to pursue it, unless someone comes to me and goes "Here's the deal" and I'll go, "OK. Here are the photos."

I've got a couple of different concepts, and one of them is "repeating scenes." Because I look through literally hundreds of thousands of different images in a flea market in a week...and my brain can process these images and remember specific images—I even dream images, like I'm looking through photos in my dreams—and I remember them. And I'll remember that I have in my collection an image that looks almost exactly like another, that's there's another image with a woman doing the exact same thing in a similar mood, and I'll put those photos together, and you look them and go "That's cool." So I've made these couplings of images like that, and then, I could see that the book goes further, like, oh, now, here's a page with four...holy shit! there's four of them! And as it goes on and on, by the back page, I have a collection of people in rowboats and they're at the bow of the rowboat and they're rowing, and the snap is taken by the perspective of the person facing them in the rowboat, and I might have 300 of these!

Wow.

And your eyeballs start spinning in your head. There's every variation, including a dog! Or a woman passed out. Or a couple kissing. Or a guy with his legs open and you can see one of his nuts...

[laughter]

Having these repeating images is what really fascinates me, and as an obsessive collector, that's what fuels my furnace. I look through so many photos that I start to categorize them. Like, another one is photos of people taken at the apex of a house. For some reason, my brain goes oh, that's cool, and now I have twenty of those. So, repeating images, that's one thing.

And then another is snowmen. I could do a whole book on snapshots of snowmen that are just so wonderful and beautiful—

See. That's so great! I want to see these books. If I could make that happen, I would.
Conceptually, it's more interesting than what a lot of art photographers are doing. [...]
The caption, for me, completely changes how you think of the photo. For example, a lot of them are humorous. That's what really drew me in. But there are also ones where first you laugh, and then you start to wonder. I pulled a few last night off of eBay, like "Shell Shock Army Man and American Flag Backdrop" from 1940. Do you remember that one?


SHELL SHOCK ARMY MAN AND AMERICAN FLAG BACKDROP

Totally. You can read me any of them, and they'll come back to me. And I can dissect that one for you, too. I'll explain the dynamic of the title and how it's changed through the evolution of eBay. It started out with the title, and not as many characters as they have now. I'd have to suck people in and get them to click through. That's how it started. Then, we got the thumbnail, so the heat was off a little bit because they could see the cool image in the thumbnail. But the search words are really important. I don't want to beat up too many sellers, but a lot of them don't even have the word "photo" in their title, so good luck!

So, words like "American Flag Backdrop" will attract people who are doing searches for "American Flag" and "Photo" or "Backdrop" and "Photo." In the old days, if you didn't get enough search words in your title, you could buy a subtitle for 50 cents, and throw in extra words, for example, "Civil War" or "Union" or "Swords" or whatever. But a couple years ago, they gave me the gift of like, twenty more characters in every title. That's like, What? They just doubled the amount of room I can write bullshit in my titles? Now it's really over the top, so now I can write whole complete non-sequiturs, so you get to read these long, extended, crazy titles. Originally, it was a little shorter, but now I go over the top. Like "syphilitic hallucination" would have taken up half the title in the old days.

So that allows you to add this part that isn't about people finding it, right? Like, with the "Shell Shock Army Man and American Flag Backdrop," maybe they're looking for "American flag" or maybe they're looking for "Army man," but they're probably not looking up "Shell shock," right?

Yeah. That's the bonus. The bonus characters.

Or, another one I saw last night was "Age-inappropriate woman in teen girl poodle skirt," which I thought was really funny. First, it made me laugh, and then it came across as a little tragic, like, I start to make up the story, like, is this a daughter who is trying to make her mother keep up with the times by giving her a poodle skirt? or is this the woman's sad attempt to remain relevant to her husband who's got wandering eyes, or....Do you create stories in your mind when you see these photos?


"Age-inappropriate woman in teen girl poodle skirt"

Sometimes I do, but generally, if I get too emotional about a photo, I keep it. I will keep it. I collect obsessively. No, really, when I'm cranking out titles, I just shoot from the hip and move on to the next one, and measure the next photo, and keep churning them out.

I'm curious, how many photos do you keep? Because I'd want to keep a lot of them.

I have one box that I call my "primo primo" and it's not any categories, it's just images, and there might be 2,000 of those—so no one's buying those. And then I have different categories that I wouldn't sell either, so I have maybe 10,000 or more that I don't want to sell. But if someone offers me $2,000 for a photo that I really adore, I'm like, "Cash please." There are a couple I would absolutely never sell, but I guess there's always a price. My all time favorite snapshot is of Bela Lugosi and his son and a waitress at a Hollywood diner. If you look at it closely, Bela and his son are sitting at the table and his son is, like, six years old, and the waitress is standing there—it's a square black and white snapshot—and if you look at the table it tells a story. And if you look at the back of it, there's narrative. "Bela is sitting with Junior, who just upset his milk." And then you have to turn it over again and look at the table and you go, Oh shit, you can see where he spilled his milk. And then you go, Well, let's look at what's on the table: There's a milk, Bela's got a cigar in his hand, there's a cup of coffee, there's a beer, there's a water, and there's something else, there's a little case, who knows what, maybe a syringe case, I have no idea, but that's just the story of what's on the table...and then there's Bela, and Junior, and the waitress...It's my number one, all-time favorite. I have reproduced it and blown it up into a pretty nice sized little poster and had Bela Junior autograph it, I showed it to him.

No way!

Yeah. At a horror show. At Monsterpalooza. First I showed him the snapshot and he was like "Yeah. I was always spilling stuff"—He said something like that. Just a casual throwaway, and I had the big poster, and I said, "Could you make it out to the Bannos family?" —Of course! I....I couldn't think of a price tag. I could go, Oh, you can have it for ten grand, but then I'd think, I'd really miss that. You know, I could make ten grand somewhere else. So it's hard to put a price tag on that thing. And I bought it in New York! I didn't even buy it out here, which is kind of bizarre because it was taken at a diner in Hollywood.

I don't know if this is a taboo subject, but how do you price your photos? There's one called "Cracked image goth horror" that you're selling for $150. Is it the cracked surface? Is it that vintage arcade photos are hard to find?



That one hits a bunch of different ones. People think that arcade photos are cool. People love photos of black people because black people photograph beautifully. And then the crackle of the emulsion on the surface—I've only seen it one or two times, ever. And so, then I factor in the rarity value. You're not going to see this object again for a long, long, long time, so if you want it, you're going to have to dig deeper. And I like it. I'm in no hurry to sell it. So that one is based on the rarity. Others are based on—and I'm not saying that I want to take advantage of people—but it's based on what I think buyers like and what their pain threshold might be.

Something I thought was funny—and this probably isn't really a question—is that in the Navy I.D. photos, "Sexy Gumby Hair Punk" goes for $80, but "Swarthy Thick Italian" is $50. I thought it was funny that basically, poor "Swarthy Thick Italian" is like a "5" and "Sexy Gumby Hair Punk" is like an "8." [...] Anyway, one photo that I never would have looked at if it hadn't been for the title was "Satanic Goat Head On Fence Post Wants To Swallow Your Soul."

[laughs]

I was dying of laughter.


SATANIC GOAT HEAD ON FENCE POST WANTS TO SWALLOW YOUR SOUL!

Do you get the reference in that? There's a movie reference.

No. I mean, there are Satanic goat heads all over the place in horror, which one—

It's from The Evil Dead, "Swallow your soul"

Oh. yes. That's one of my favorite movies.

[and on that truly embarrassing note for a horror fan, I stopped recording the interview, but continued the conversation for at least another half hour.]

A final note:
I started a pinboard (titled "supremely bored expressionless black woman", of course) devoted to "Gargantua's" listings. I strongly suggest that you visit Gargantua's store, his listings, and his website. Be warned. It's very addictive. I've already purchased several photos.


Saturday, September 21, 2013

Just Get It: The Street Collective Vol. 1

The Street Collective Vol. 1 is a beautiful, content-rich, 60-page downloadable (free for a "limited time"—I don't know how limited, so I'd suggest getting it right away. I mean, you can't beat free.) book full of inspiration from a variety of street photographers.

I love to hear photographers talk about their work. I know that some people feel that their work should speak for itself—and I get that from a viewer's perspective—but photographer-to-photographer, c'mon, give me something. And that's what this volume does. You get ten very different photographers, each interviewed about their own work. Ideally, I would have like to see even more photos, but I guess that's what the links are for. You definitely get enough to get a clear idea of each photographer's unique style.



Bryan Formhals talks about stumbling into street photography as a cure for writer's block. His thoughtful and unassuming answers to the interview questions are like having a coffee house chat with someone, rather than a lecture. When he says, "I'm very suspicious of my own photographic motivations, though. It's my belief these days that I don't necessarily know what I'm doing" you feel like he's working through questions with you. He's not putting on a show. For me, the underlying message is that we're all just making this up as we go along, and that we should be honest with ourselves about it.

There's an expression "douze Français, treize opinions" (actually, I'm not sure that people other than me say that, but it sounds right: "12 French people, 13 opinions") that probably applies just as well to photographers. For me, finding a variety of opinions helps me better figure out my own beliefs. For example, in an interview with Julian Berman, the photographer gives the well-worn advice that you need to find your personal style so that you stand out from the rest and get jobs. Clearly, that approach has worked for Berman. That doesn't stop the contrarian in me from disagreeing. I have seen the "style-seeking" anxiety in a lot of photographers, but I think that if you take the long view, that's all just misdirected energy.

From the interview with Lee Jeffries
Denied. Sometimes photographers draw the line at certain questions like "Could you give us a quick breakdown of your post-processing workflow?" Although I would always prefer transparency over the trade-secret mentality, I like that the question and answer are there. It gives you a better idea of how the photographer sees their work. ("I have never and will never purport to be a Scott Kelby or the like." Snap.)

In short, there is a lot of good advice. And free—at least for now, so get going. And if I hadn't recently fallen down the stairs and sprained my ankle in a cookie-related accident (yeah, you heard me right. The cookies of doom that my wife made on Monday. I was mesmerized by their scent and lost my footing. As I lay in pain on the ground, broken cookie tragically in pieces around me, my wife came running and the first thing I said was "Can you get me another cookie?") I would get my butt out there and do some street photography. My favorite. But hey, for now, I can read inspiring interviews while elevating my leg. And eat cookies.