This week I was whisked to West Wittering for a fashion shoot. I was filming a ‘mood’ video, much like those perfume ads (I’ll stick it up next week when I’m done), but took a few photos whilst there.
You know; there was a model (Mignonne, absolutely lovely girl ), a horse (didn’t get his details), friendly National Trust folk, sand in my shoes and wind in my hair; I figured I should be extra productive. Not that any of those reasons relate to one another, but this is how my brain works.
So these are, I suppose, a very small sneak peak of the video. Not the best I’ve ever taken, at all, but all on the fly mid-video.

Oh, and black & white isn’t always a quick-fix to make things look cool, sometimes it just suits the mood.

(For those of you that know him, how much does the model look like Dave De Min?)

I was recently asked by my friend, Kitty, to go and do some behind the scenes filming for a movie she was working on called Chalet Girl (go check out the blog for more info).

“What’s that? Bring my camera and my snowboard? Stay in a pimp hotel?”
I was, reluctantly, verging towards being slightly keen.

Last-minute work, 2hrs sleep, a randomly packed bag, a blitz down the motorway (cruising into tear jerking sunrise with this beast ruining my speakers and considerably improving my driving skills), a crayfish sandwich and a large latté from Pret, duty-free cologne and someone stealing my magazine on the flight whilst I was sleeping were all part of the prelude to the most beautiful plane landing I’ve ever experienced; Innsbruck. Seriously intense. Cruising in for landing past snowcapped mountains and pine forests, then into a wonderfully green valley with glorious sunshine beating down on endless fields, littered with buttercups and cottages.

Randomly, a film student picked me up (I forget his name, but he lived in Munich and drove a taxi in his spare time) and we rolled (the wrong way for half an hour) through some ridiculously long tunnels into Kaunertal, and up towards the ridiculous hotel. 20 minutes later, I’m covered in purple and on the way up to the glacier.

7D in glove I essentially ended up being more of a photographer than videographer, and having filmed lots of snowboarding before it was fantastic to be able to hone up my snow-photey skills (alongside the other photographer for the movie; Sami from Onboard Snowboard magazine — a complete and utter legend).

Over the next 3 days I took a shed load of photos, had sufficient snow play time, got less sleep than a can of Red Bull, had myself embarassed in front ofStu Brass when Kitty tells everyone I used to have a snowboarding poster of him up on my wall (“Yeah, when I was 12!!…thanks.” … he loved it), managed to get in one of the scenes, ate way too much schnitzel and had a hilarious time with the super friendly cast and crew. Then did much the same back in London for the final few days of shooting, followed by a wrap party that can only be described as “…!”

So anyway, there’s literally hundreds of photos but obviously most of them (the best ones) are being used for press or as run up content for the film itself, so I can only stick a few random ones up.

I’m all over the video thing, and will continue to be so; I honestly think there is something truly magical in portraying the world, thoughts, dreams, ideas and emotions through a crafted whole of moving image. I guess that’s why I’m pursuing a career in that field; it really touches me deeply…and anyway, I think its über cool.

But photos…

I’ve always been the guy with the camera, always put people in awkward situations and stolen frames of their soul, but its only recently I’ve begun to think about how big a part of my life that medium is.

I ruddy hate Facebook. Literally the bane of my life on so many levels, yet I find myself perpetually updating my status, chatting shit on people’s walls and infuriating myself with the papness of FB chat. But from day one I saw the worth…a memory bank. My memory is truly awful, seriously pathetic. I stood in Somerfield the other day, basically shouting at a friend in agony at how I couldn’t remember what I’d eaten for lunch, until, after way too long, I washed up on the beach of clarity (seafood ramen from Ramen Sato on Kingly St; fishy epicness in a super-large maroon bowl). And this is why I’ve started organizing my life, my photos, into months on FB. Its merely so I have some kind of approach at remembering my life in any kind of detail for whenever I decide to look back.

Anyway, the point is that photography has become massively important to me, and not just on that memory bank level. When I finally got my 7D I instantly switched from “photos for fun” to “photos for life” mode. Its hard to describe, but I finally feel the flurry of excitement for photography that I’ve always had with video. Enthusiasm and basic skill by no means makes me a professional photographer (even though I’ve recently been touting myself as one), its bloody difficult. Sometimes people assume that both video and photography are easy; I’ve had clients tell me exactly that, and then miserably fail at making anything worth showing. It isn’t, its bloody tough, even if you have “the eye” or the software, or equipment or the time; that’s why people dedicate their lives to it.
A friend said to me recently, “you wouldn’t just ask your mate to do your accounting, and then pay him fúck all”, and yet all too often people expect freebies because they think its easy. And honestly, sometimes I’m too much of a nice guy (or a push over) and end up on freebies a bit too often. It doesn’t bother me, I just hope that doesn’t reinforce the “easy” viewpoint.

And so to photos, and so to this blog. So far this has been an outlet for thoughtage and nothing more, and its about time I used it for something more tangible. No one is going to read this and be enlightened, and that has never been the point, but I would love it if someone woud stumble upon this and be inspired or impressed or taken aback or even made to think out loud for just a second because of something I’ve created…I want to use this space to at least monitor my own creative develoment.

And so, as a mentalinternet note, I hereby ditch that putrid Facebook as an outlet for creativity, and dedicate this blog to what it should always have been; a trough for my creative slop, a fridge for my dreamy heart and a locker for my most valuable belongings. I’m not here to be judged or to judge myself, I’m here to share because I wholly believe that’s what we’re all here to do; and I should share my passions with the world that watches.

(By the way, those two are photos from my recent EPK (behind the scenes) on Chalet Girl, a film that’s coming out next year. I’ll stick a load more up when I’ve got time.

Scientists have developed ‘beta-blockers’ which work by preventing your brain from ‘re-building’, thereby strengthening, bad memories every time you think them. Good shit for phobias and peeps with post-traumatic stress, but what about the everyday Joe with (arguably less serious) mental hang-ups? Would this kind approach be recommended?

Scared to let go, scared to hold on; scared to forget, scared to remember.

I’d need an extra couple of hands to count the people I know with a situation that falls into this category; this shit is common. You go through an emotionally taxing experience, and whilst you can whittle time away and distract yourself with countless activities there is always the threat of a memory-relapse. It always comes back to hit you and, because you’re ‘re-building’, its always much worse than the time before. Its tough! But its human. Thats the problem. If we were to go erasing bad memories would we be cheating?
We would lose the link that connects our lives with who we are. We are the result of everything we have ever seen, heard, done and not done, so erasing specific nuggets would either leave us with unexplainable facets of our personality, or completely remove those characteristics. Scary.

Then again, is this such a bad thing? If there is something in your head that starts to take over, that starts to eat away into everyday life, surely your ‘personality’ is only being eroded by that? If I were to remove every humiliating experience in my life, sure, that would be dumb. I’d walk around like Captain Planet and probably end up dropping my shorts in the queue for a sandwich; I’d have no concept of humiliation. But what about simply removing the emotional attachment to specific memories?
I would never want to forget any aspect of my life, but I wonder whether changing the way I thought about some of them would make me a better person…?

My head says no, my heart screams yes.

Honestly? If you told me I could escape prolonged mental anguish over specific and inescapable aspects of my past/present? If you timed it right, I would go down that rabbit hole. And that’s my heart, desperate to sidestep the furore of repetition, the agony of heartache. But my head is well aware of the stupidity of such a manoeuvre, well aware of the value within these buckets of torture. For it is the ability to synthesize all experiences, all love, pain, anguish, joy, hope, fear, gain and loss, it is the ability to take all these things and turn them into the foundations for something wonderful. That wonder is simply ‘the next’.

It is not erasing memories that most people should be after, but the hardwired link between head and heart. It is this which can be the ruin of man. In order to separate this connection at will we’d need…well, I’m not sure there is anything we can do; its just what makes us ‘us’. And beta-blockers? Again, if there is something really awful in your life then maybe they can help, but if that ‘awful’ thing can really be seen (from a 3rd person perspective) as something regular, then endurance and acceptance, time and a pair of bollocks are your best tools. In essence, it is the creation of our own beta-blockers that is the real human test. We need to be able to push through any pain and emerge, scathed but intact. It was Churchill who said “If you are going through hell, keep going”.

The cavernous enclaves of the human mind are way too complex and winding; if we began blocking up passages or knocking down walls, I fear we’d either release the Minotaur or destroy our path of golden thread. I’ll take my difficulties as they come, and allow them to take their course; no cheating. Whilst I may occasionally drop off the mental map, I’ll trust in myself that its all for the best.

This is all very interesting. When it comes to natural disasters, it appears the US and the UK have the least generous people adding up to us being the least giving as countries.
What are we supposed to think about that? I sense that fucker Mr Relativity rearing its whiney head…so is it true?

For starters, its not about distance to disaster; a swift glance at that graph will show that some of the furthest away countries were practically emptying their pockets, whilst some of the closest were probably slipping change from the tin. The fact that the US gave less than Canada (in terms of GDP and the massive $amount per person) highlights this with a big yellow Sharpie.
An equally impressive and easily readable graph to show the comparable levels of compassion, would probably leave us with a worldwide tie-break. Everyone cares, so why do we give less money?
To be honest, the list of factors is huge, but I think my point is desensitization. The fact that both the UK and the US are right at the bottom of the pile says a lot. The largest powers in the world giving the least amount of cash (GDP)?

The last ten years have been fraught with human collision, terrorism hasn’t helped anything, and whilst it would be unfair to say that the UK and the US have suffered the most with relation to casualties (there’s probably a fucking car bomb going off in Baghdad as we speak), the dent to international pride and the removal of “We’re safe over here” has produced a savage and unstable ripple in the collective subconscious. Its as if we’ve all stopped and gone “Shiiiit, bad stuff is happening everywhere; its happening here!”, and with shifty eyes only slowly reach into our pockets to give aid to what now seems like an all too common tragedy.
This logic may seem peculiar; surely you would think that exposure to awfulness would produce more understanding, spark some higher desire to help with increased clarity of comparison. I just don’t think its that simple. The school bully holds his reign as the most scary and untouchable chump in the playground, but it just takes one dweeb to step up and the bully loses his soap box; de-sashed and humanized he can only join the ranks of the regular kids at the bottom of the pile. Terrorist attacks on the UK and the US have been somewhat similar to a schoolyard revolt (only with more death), and I think we’re beginning the back down.

So giving money to disasters? Yeah, we’ll still give, but we’re in a period where we’re less likely to be reaching deep thanks to the knowledge of our own vulnerability. We might not be so prone to ridiculously savage earthquakes or hurricanes or Godzilla in the UK, but some twat with a bomb is just around the corner ready to blow my Gregg’s Cheese and Onion Pasty straight outta my mittens, and I might need that quid to get another one.

This is just an attempt to understand the info from the graph, in no way am I suggesting the British or the Yanks are selfish or emotionless holes (although I have met a few of these); in fact I know some of the most generous and loving people from both sides of the pond. I think, in the end, there is a whole host of factors that would need muchos study, so the best bet is to sack off an attempt at understanding anything and just go give a fiver.

No seriously this is awesome. The tongue section weirded me out a bit though, only because I have the smallest tongue known to man….its the magician not the wand goddammit!

I originally meant to blog this during Sundance, when it was still vaguely new.
Then I figured I’d wait until I’d seen it.
Unfortunately, mere weeks later, I’d completely forgotten, everyone has seen it or already knows how good its meant to be.
And I still haven’t seen it.

So basically this is the worst post ever, but I’m sticking it up anyway because I follow through.

If you have know idea what I’m talking about, then all I need to say is Banksy’s movie, and you should be brought out of your ignorance. If that still doesn’t mean anything, the Twilight trailer is below, and the I think Ugly Betty is on tonight.

Ok ok; I read the first book (in like 7 minutes), and it was alright, but nothing happened until the end, and until then the only emotion I felt was that of growing a womb.

Ok ok, I watched both films; the first was exactly the same as the book, and the second produced audible groans and stifled laughter that, in a cinema full of oestrogeny teens, is not the cleverest way of escaping a mass bitch-slapping fest with balls intact. Still, fond memories…

However, I am reliably informed that its now, with the third book/film, that shit starts to get good.
Whilst I’m happy to accept that, the trailer makes this film look bloody awful. If you can spot any emotion other than “concerned solemnity” then I’ll hand the fucking Oscar over myself.

Ok ok, so maybe I’m just jealous of the unrelenting universal female attraction to these utterly implausible characters (and I’m not talking about the vampirey werewolfness); but thats why I’m already halfway through combining the rustic buffness of wolfboy Jacob, and the elegant tomfoolery of Edward, in the hope to amass an infinite hareem of underage girls just to give R-Patz a fucking day off. And that, ladies, is the real chivalry you’re all after. Am I right? Am I right?!

Woah woah woah. Vampires, sure. But seriously, tumbleweed? Inside?

All jokes aside this news report is an actual joke courtesy of the Daily Mash.
But this ain’t no ordinary joke, this is satire that points a finger at the ever fraying school system. How clever!

If I’m honest I think the world of teachers; its the parents I deplore.
Seriously, some of the units that get plopped out these days are only good for cannon fodder, and I’m not sure we even need a war to put that into action. I blame malnutrition during pregnancy, the readiness to choose a bag of Quavers over fruit purée, benefits culture and the ever strengthening, exponentially multiplying, “what are you lookin’ at?” “ye get me blud” Chav stronghold. But hey, they’re the majority so I guess I should pipe down!

But what do we do about it? Well, I’m British so I’ll just join the huddle of collective apathy, have a scone and grumble.
Maybe we should hire in the A-Team or Mrs Doubtfire or someone, but maybe this mess is so widespread and deep rooted we’d be better off starting afresh?

I jest! its not that bad, I guess I just feel sorry for the little blighters. I’m currently working on a community project with some Central London schools, and, I’m sorry to say, they…ain’t…lookin’…good…
I’d choose a hate free land of uber-intelligent wasters over a nation of under-developed shank happy murkers (Mum, if you’re reading this; shank = makeshift knife, murk = murder).

With ‘A’ grades easier to get than ever before, I wonder what the future generation’s capability of looking after me in my (handsome) old age will be. Ironically, Daily Mash will probably feature heavily on the menu.