I’m a photographer in so much as I have a camera and people are lucky enough to let me take photos of them and I often get something in return for my work. For my money, that’s the definition of success as a photographer.
That said, 2015 brought me a bit more than I had before: it let me shoot a music festival and tour for the first time ever. I literally got to use a hobby that’s become a ferociously burning passion to travel the country. That’s ludicrous. And so awesome I don’t even have the words.
So here’s a selection of some of my favorite photographs I’ve taken this year a little bit about them, for photo geeks and non-geeks alike.
I’d also like to take this time to thank everyone who’s supported me in anyway, or given me any opportunity, to take photographs in 2015. You’ve been instrumental in what I’m calling “my success.” If you’d like to help me do the same in the coming year I’ll probably buy you a drink or something.
If you’re so inclined you can follow me on social:
I’m bored. Bored with the kind of studied apathy that’s cool. You don’t give a fuck. Well done. You’re so edgy bro, I’ll need to be careful that I don’t cut myself.
I wish. What I’d give for artists to deliver a sense of urgency, danger and poignancy than was tangible. Instead, and I should say this mostly applies to the kind of music I’m involved in i.e. heavy and alternative music, I’m greeted with practiced stage moves, party boy attitudes, casual misogyny, a total lack of imagination and a sneering at anything that expresses an opinion. As much as I listen to music, watch TV and read for pleasure I also want to be challenged. I want to be exposed to new ideas, question my own preconceptions and be challenged. I want to be confronted.
If that’s not available though I’ll settle for a good one liner.
A lot of technical music has a habit of falling the wrong side of exciting. Impressive and thrilling aren’t interchangeable adjectives. I’m sure there are plenty of musos who find incredible levels of instrumental dexterity mouth-watering and borderline erotic. But I can’t say I’m part of that particular members only club. (They continually reject my application of the grounds that I’m a terrible musician.) Somehow though, The Colour Pink is Gay manage to take both those aforementioned adjectives and shove them down your throat before they spit in your eye.
It’s well good man.