Currently operating inside the mysterious land surrounded by the yellow border. A strange and wild place where the terms “internet access” and “cellular service” are evidently new. This has to be the case, cause the mere mention of them produces wide eyed stares of confused wonder followed by gales of laughter and shrieks of delighted amusement.
I get to work all day in the cold and the wind and the dust, and then stay up most of the night in the even colder wind and dust. My crew is fantastic, and after preparations have been made, we gather around in the inky blackness to discuss roles and assignments. They are clad, much in the manner of the highway outlaws in The Road Warrior, in ski masks, goggles and heavily padded protective clothing. They climb into pickups, outfitted with generators and racks of bristling flashy things and disappear into the void. I stay at camera central, and at the appropriate time, open the photon torpedo tubes. Then, in an homage to the James T. Kirk school of overacting, I raise my eyes to the heavens, extend a clenched fist and in an impassioned, breathless voice, say simply into the radio, “Fire.” Flashes in the dark. Screams in the night. I’ll say no more.
Sometime between 3 and 4 am, I retire to my resplendent rental lean to and rest and dine on a hearty mix of canned soup and Advil. About 7am I head to a local hotspot to send my pictures to the all powerful Oz, otherwise known as my editor. The process is fascinating, which is good because it is so lengthy. Kilobyte by kilobyte, my pictures fly through the air with dispatch and efficiency. One by one. The carrier pigeons of the internet. I wait, listening to a song that is evidently about a pickup truck, a dog, the earth moving, love lost and a stolen Bible. I did not know they put such stories to music!
Its okay, though, cause this hot spot is also a place called McDonalds. The food here is fantastic! Are there more of these elsewhere?
A pidgeon returns with dispatches! A message from Oz! “Pretty interesting.” Tremendously effusive endorsement of my meager efforts! Translation? You can’t go home yet.
THE K-MAN BLOGGETH!
Mark’s the one who got me goin’ with the noir thing. He’s a good shooter who is real disciplined about assigning himself, putting together a structure and a timeline which makes sure he stays behind the camera.
He’s been over in Europe of late, working away, hitting the road again, which means, Road Pig strikes again!
He’s been takin’ Flo the pig out on the road for years, and she’s getting’ a pretty good tour. Now, of course, her adventures have an attentive audience back at home with Liv, his toddler, waiting for news of both dad and Flo.
Mark and I did some road touring a few years back, knocking out an annual report. In a couple of years, back to back, we did several states as well as Sweden, Poland, England, and Italy. We were scouting in the old city section of Warsaw and Mark had to run back to hotel. (He’s the responsible one, the one who’s gotta keep things together, on schedule, and ya know, he’s got a screwloose shooter out there with him who has a tendency to go rogue at any moment and here we’re tryin’ to project a good image for the company. So it fell to him to be filing reports and talk to home base, as well as make sure I stick to my meds.)
So he goes back to the hotel, and I’m standing there in old town and who walks by (with an entourage of course) but Roman Polanski, scouting for The Pianist. Walked right by. Of course I had my mouth open and my lens cap on, which doesn’t bode well for me if I ever wanted to go the paparazzi route. Mark got back and refused to believe me. To this day, he refuses. Oh well…
Funny how life goes. Years ago, Magnum shooter Alex Webb and I got to be friends on an NPPA Flying Short Course and my daughter Caitlin and his son would get together and play. We’d hang out a bit at Alex’ apartment over in Brooklyn, and a couple of times, the wonderful Hungarian born photog, Sylvia Plachy, would drop by, with her elegant viewpoint and daring adventurism with a Widelux in her hands. Coupla times, her teenage son would drop by. He would play with the kids a bit, and say virtually nothing to the alleged grownups. He seemed to be always working on a old car, or projects like that. Years later, Sylvia’s son, the quiet teen, Adrian Brody, turns in an Academy Award performance in The Pianist.
Great light, nice shot, kinda Daniel Craig-esque, doncha think?…Looks like an ad for a Bond flick, fer chrissakes, though I would be the first to admit “Klowskowski” doesn’t roll off the tongue quite the same as, “Bond, James Bond.”
Matt may have a future in the movies as a Photoshop action espionage hero type. His first feature….”Pixels Only Die Twice.”
WE’RE ALL IN TROUBLE….
Check out Pyxsylated.
Another coherent, fully fleshed out, informative blog from the irrepressible Mr. Arena. Great explanation and field demo of Radio Poppers.
Here’s the problem, and the reason we got trouble, right here in River City.
He’s out there with MD Welch.
What happens when two loose but very talented cannons hit the road, mixing in flash, roller derby girls, and radio poppers? Good blog, good pictures, but Lordy, Katy bar the door, go to the mattresses, do whatever it is you do, but Syl and MD are in town…..Got to know the both of them in a lighting workshop in Santa Fe. We had a great class, great time, and the class has stuck together. Talk about a buncha characters. We had everybody in there from Syl and MD to Krista “Machine Gun” Lee.
Lots of frames. Lots of fun…more tk….