Throwback Image Saturday (II)

Another from my early series of people I (used to, for the most part) hang out with in college. Dana was the editor of the school newspaper for a spell, and an all around cheerful person, in spite of the attitude this picture suggests. Call it one of my early dour-hipster pictures. This particular image was an outtake (one of her smiling made it in) and I uploaded this one 'cause it just seems more me at this point.

As with Nick, I've not seen Dana since I graduated. Last I heard she was back in Seattle or someplace on the Western Coast.

Fashion Week, Darth Vader and The Russians.

I managed to survive another Fashion Week with my sanity intact -- please remember that I'm working the shows for television and not as a shooter for a magazine or similar. This means, of course, that I generally have to engage people on a coherent level rather than a grumbly, mumbly or stalker-y level. I then turn on grumbly, mumbly stalker mode to take pictures during the down time.

Yes, I was there at the two-hour-delayed Marc Jacobs show (below) and overheard a pleasantly on-point smackdown delivered by Anna Wintour. When asked if going to shows with her daughter, Bee, was good bonding time she replied,

'Of course. And we've had plenty of time to do it tonight.'

So there. In truth and perhaps obviously, the same thing happens for a TV crew. It's easy to make friends when there's nothing to do but sit around and tell jokes and tell fish stories.

On the other end of the spectrum (of everything, really) is Heatherette (above), whose show our crew is always welcome at, and whose cast always includes Amanda Lepore, whose existance always confuses out of towners. Most importantly, Heatherette always seems to go off on time and in full force with a splendid time had by all.

I'd like to take the time now to fill in and finally put in writing my "Russian Theorem" before someone else steals it.

"Gin's Russian Theorem

Any given photographer can advance one and a half letter grades just by having a six-foot tall Russian model in his or her frame. The limit of the advancement is an 'A+' grade" and the effect is not amplified by having more than one (1) model."

That is to say, a "C" grade photographer becomes a "B+" grade photographer by merit of the absurd physical presence of the woman in front of the lens. I use this self-effacingly, and as a criticism of others. I become a great photographer at Fashion Week.

HYPE ALERT: Richard Gin Is Now Featured Over At Venuszine.com

I now have a featured portfolio over at Venuszine.com -- this following what was a sloppy series of communiques with the Venuszine staff. These images aren't anything you haven't seen before (they are all cribbed from the daddy page, richardgin.org), but please visit, and please forward this to your friends and lovers as you see fit.

Also, apologies in advance if I didn't make doubly sure to clear usage of your visage -- they kinda threw the page up without consulting me all the way with regard to the particulars and wherefores. Please don't kill me. More importantly, please don't sue me.

THIS IS THE LINK. THIS LINK IS VERY IMPORTANT.

THE LINK

Like Brett Favre, Richard Gin Is Having Fun!

To a point, anyway. Yes! I was in Sweden! Yes! I was only there for forty and one-half (40.5) hours or thereabouts and when you factor in the travel time (about twenty [20]) hours, you begin to figure out how hectic life can be. You understand how painful life can be when you consider that the airplane was showing a mini marathon of late 80's to early 90's TV hits including Wings and Cheers (with Shelly Long, no less).

Now, to be clear, I'd still be in Sweden right now (or perhaps Norway) if it were not for NY Fashion week -- I had to come back on time to pick up my requisite days on the party circuit (seriously) and as much as I need a vacation proper, I'd like to keep the momentum from last month.

Dan's oldest kid said he imagined Sweden to be full of 'dragons and dwarves fighting with axes.' I'm paraphrasing. Some others would have you believe that you can't swing a dead cat in Sweden without braining a six-foot (6') tall amazon with shimmering flaxen tresses and boobs out to here.

(gestures)

Neither of these scenarios are true, sadly. I add "sadly" for obvious reasons.



Another sad thing:

The thrift store clothes in Gothenburg (I will not make assumptions regarding the hipness of the rest of the nation) are all from American institutions, including AYSO, the Y "M's" and "W's" CA and the United States Army. Aside from my disappointment, I don't know what to think of this, though the low quality of the selections suggests that the Swedes dispatch a warm body to Domsey's with one hundred (100) US dollars and a round trip ticket with the order to "bring back what you can."

On the topic of Swedish Monies, the twenty (20) Kroner note has a CHILD RIDING A GOOSE. This is very important and the mere fact that some brilliant person came up with this idea (lifted from Swedish legend or history or not) shows how far our European friends have advanced beyond our simple American understanding.



We had difficulty finding endemic foods at first. It seemed that every restaurant we passed was italian or french or a burger stand of some sort which might have been good eatin', but why bother when the promise of meatballs and herring was so tempting. The concierge at Gothia Towers pointed us in the direction of a swedish soul food joint about one (1) kilometer away, and we ended up pigging out on... meatballs and herring. The fresh ligonberry jam is the hurdle that IKEA can't clear. The warm nordic food sits well in the gut when tromping around ill-paved medieval cobblestone streets stalking locals with a camera in the spirit of adventure and staving off any sort of future jet lag (see paragraph two (2) of this formless essay).



In all, Gothenburg is not a nation of contrasts. It appears to be (in limited experience) to be decidedly Swedish, though the good people speak superb English and are cheerful and willing to help out disabled tourists like ourselves. This has not stopped me from making jokes about their language (see post below) and I will be doing so again once I take formal shots of the hilarious candy bars I packed into the country.

Final Grade: A+, would travel to again.

Someone Has To Be The Ugly American. Why Not Me?

"Rea" apparently means "Sale" in Swedish. Therefore this picture is funny.

The Ostrich Controversy

So many apologies to all of you. My work schedule has been such that I've basically worked a 9-to-5-type-job this month leaving me little energy to create awesome photo-things for you to view and enjoy. In the spirit of make good gestures, I present you with another poll post.

While Mini Golfing at the Magic Carpet Mini-Golf Course in Tucson, AZ, I found myself losing the head-to-head battle with Ezra by several strokes. On Hole 17, The Ostrich Hole, I came to a place where I could make up some ground.

Please use the image below for reference.



The Hole is a Par 2, its difficulty only increased by the shoddy groundskeeping and broken obstacle. I noticed that the Hole had no wall to the right of the tee box ("The Hazard In Question"). I reasoned that the designers of the course left the player the option of "going overland" (on the image, a path denoted "A" to "C," AKA, "You Play To Win The Game"). I considered it the Big Golf equivalent of playing over the trees or over the water.

Ezra called foul and said that the challenge of the Hole was to follow the fairway as designed (on the image, points "A" to "B" to "C", AKA, "Play By The Rules") in two strokes.

The debate went on for some time, and involved name calling in the hot, hot sun. As it was my Hole to start, I finally elected to play the Hole "A" to "C" over the cement. I made par. Ezra elected to follow the designers' path, "A" to "B" to "C" and bogeyed.

Now I turn the vote over to you, gentlereader. Please end this argument by commenting below, choosing among the following three options:

a) Richard is a no good, dirty cheater who has no shame.

b) Ezra was unwilling to be creative and he's lucky he didn't fare worse.

c) Both paths are valid options, and the choice made is a reflection of the personality of the player.

Please note that option "c" is a cowards' vote.