A Winogrand Whine
This mess is so big
And so deep and so tall,
We can not pick it up.
There is no way at all!
You know that feeling of when you have fifty rolls of film to develop, and yet you can’t seem to find the time? Doesn’t that film just sit there in the corner, pointedly waiting to be developed, day after day, just weighing down on you? That niggling, unsatisfied feeling that you ought to make time and just get on with it, is constantly in the back of your mind. You don’t feel free, and you resent the day-job for getting in the way of valuable hours you could be spending developing and scanning your photographs. And yet, when you do get the time, you’re just too damned exhausted to get on with the process of creation.
So your unfinished art just sits there, in the corner, nagging at you. And it grows. The pile just keeps getting bigger and bigger, until finally it becomes so huge that suddenly you’re Garry Winogrand, who was so behind in finishing his work, that when he died he left 2,400 rolls of undeveloped film, plus another 6,500 rolls of developed film which had not been proofed. He left personal and photographic chaos as his legacy. Whatever he was looking for in his work, he never found it because he never finished anything. That sweet, elated feeling of release you get when a photographic project is completed and printed, always eluded poor Garry because he never followed anything through.
I exaggerate of course, but you take my meaning. And writers have the same problem as Garry, believe me.
Just as photographers constantly see pictures everywhere, I see stories in everything around me. All the time. On the plus side, I’m never short of inspiration. On the negative side, I’m drowning in words. Literally. My house is filling up with hundreds of magazine clippings, articles printed out from the web, groovy quotations that might come in handy one day and arty musings that have caught my fancy. They usually end up clogging up my in-tray or clipped into vast reams of bright pink Playboy files (no idea why I chose pink. Maybe pink = fluffy? Who knows. I hate pink, although I will admit that Playboy has its arty moments.) Anyway, I fully intend to write a separate article about each and every one of these inspirational topics one day. Each thought, each note stored, is the idea for an article or story. And some of it might actually result in some decent work, if I ever get off my pudgy ass and just write the damn stuff. I want to do it, I really do, so much it hurts. If I don’t write, I’m bloody foul to live with. It’s a compulsion, a passion and an obsession.
If only……if only I was better organised, better disciplined, had more time, more willpower, if only that pile of half-created writing wasn’t so damn big. The problem is there’s so much of it. Where do I start? If I wrote for seven hours a day, every day, then I might just clear the pile after…oh, say a year or so…
Writing is like sex. When you finish a cracking article, it’s like a rush, then a release and you can finally bask in the warm and satisfied afterglow. (No I’m not a sex-obsessed nutter, well not today anyway. I’m betting some of you feel the same way after a successful shoot and you’ve nailed the shot.)
So, if writing is like sex, and knowing that I love good sex, I really do…the question I have to ask myself is why don’t I do it more often?
Anyhoo, why are you reading this? You should be developing…go on, get thee hence! There’s only one way that you’re gonna get to that warm 'n' fuzzy satiated-afterglow-vibe, and that’s if you actually reach for your artistic climax.
I’ll see you in the dark room.
Images are from last week's shoot with Alexis Summers, who is stylishly modelling my favourite new italian designer belt. I don't look remotely like this when I wear it, oddly enough (although I'm sure Rich rather wishes I did!)
And so deep and so tall,
We can not pick it up.
There is no way at all!
You know that feeling of when you have fifty rolls of film to develop, and yet you can’t seem to find the time? Doesn’t that film just sit there in the corner, pointedly waiting to be developed, day after day, just weighing down on you? That niggling, unsatisfied feeling that you ought to make time and just get on with it, is constantly in the back of your mind. You don’t feel free, and you resent the day-job for getting in the way of valuable hours you could be spending developing and scanning your photographs. And yet, when you do get the time, you’re just too damned exhausted to get on with the process of creation.
So your unfinished art just sits there, in the corner, nagging at you. And it grows. The pile just keeps getting bigger and bigger, until finally it becomes so huge that suddenly you’re Garry Winogrand, who was so behind in finishing his work, that when he died he left 2,400 rolls of undeveloped film, plus another 6,500 rolls of developed film which had not been proofed. He left personal and photographic chaos as his legacy. Whatever he was looking for in his work, he never found it because he never finished anything. That sweet, elated feeling of release you get when a photographic project is completed and printed, always eluded poor Garry because he never followed anything through.
I exaggerate of course, but you take my meaning. And writers have the same problem as Garry, believe me.
Just as photographers constantly see pictures everywhere, I see stories in everything around me. All the time. On the plus side, I’m never short of inspiration. On the negative side, I’m drowning in words. Literally. My house is filling up with hundreds of magazine clippings, articles printed out from the web, groovy quotations that might come in handy one day and arty musings that have caught my fancy. They usually end up clogging up my in-tray or clipped into vast reams of bright pink Playboy files (no idea why I chose pink. Maybe pink = fluffy? Who knows. I hate pink, although I will admit that Playboy has its arty moments.) Anyway, I fully intend to write a separate article about each and every one of these inspirational topics one day. Each thought, each note stored, is the idea for an article or story. And some of it might actually result in some decent work, if I ever get off my pudgy ass and just write the damn stuff. I want to do it, I really do, so much it hurts. If I don’t write, I’m bloody foul to live with. It’s a compulsion, a passion and an obsession.
If only……if only I was better organised, better disciplined, had more time, more willpower, if only that pile of half-created writing wasn’t so damn big. The problem is there’s so much of it. Where do I start? If I wrote for seven hours a day, every day, then I might just clear the pile after…oh, say a year or so…
Writing is like sex. When you finish a cracking article, it’s like a rush, then a release and you can finally bask in the warm and satisfied afterglow. (No I’m not a sex-obsessed nutter, well not today anyway. I’m betting some of you feel the same way after a successful shoot and you’ve nailed the shot.)
So, if writing is like sex, and knowing that I love good sex, I really do…the question I have to ask myself is why don’t I do it more often?
Anyhoo, why are you reading this? You should be developing…go on, get thee hence! There’s only one way that you’re gonna get to that warm 'n' fuzzy satiated-afterglow-vibe, and that’s if you actually reach for your artistic climax.
I’ll see you in the dark room.
Images are from last week's shoot with Alexis Summers, who is stylishly modelling my favourite new italian designer belt. I don't look remotely like this when I wear it, oddly enough (although I'm sure Rich rather wishes I did!)
Labels: AlexisSummers, blogging
posted by Lin at 8:42 AM
2 Comments:
Two things.
1) I now have 52 rolls of film waiting to be developed and then filed, in addition to the 25 rolls I have that have been developed but are as yet unfiled. (And I've got another photo session coming up in less than a week.)
2) As for writing, on an episode of the TV series "The Odd Couple," sports writer Oscar Madison complains that he's having trouble writing, so his friend/roommate Felix says to him, "But you're a writer. Don't you like to write?" Oscar responds: "Writers don't like to write. They like to have written."
I just transfered 133 RAW files in to be processed so I don't feel too bad. Beats 2400 times 24 or 36.
I have some pics that gave me that warm and fuzzy glow on the camera back so I'm going to love them at a viewable size.
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