The Boss, “Can you shoot photos? Do you have a camera?”
Me, “Sure, yeah, of course…”
Hours later I was on stage with LAMFO. Thousands of tweens screamed in my direction as two drunkards bounced around stage to the delight of their loving grandmother. As the show climbed the ladder of inappropriateness my nerves cooled and I took to the stage to shoot the damn show. I got paid. The client was happy. No one knew underage breasts had accidentally slipped into a crowd shot.
Time moves too quickly when you’re busy. When you’ve got a job. When days collide with nights that seep into morning. When weekends are nothing more than blurry moments, bankaccount drains, hangovers and sadness. Sorry for disappearing after the French post, I just got busy. So here’s an update.
-I posted a picture of Mt. Hood from Summer 2010. It was shot on a really shitty camera. I love it. I wish Chicago wasn’t so damn flat.
-I lost my favorite camera, the Lumix GF-1, in a cab. By lost I obviously mean left. It was a bad moment.
-I did a lot at work. Isn’t that thrilling?
-I started a new blog for the wilder times. It’s called ewyuck. It’s my new baby.
-I bought a new camera. It’s sweet. I also learned my lesson and only drink with crap cameras in my pocket.
Starring up at Notre Dame all I can think is, “What would this construction value cost today?” Which is quickly followed by, “Did a hunchback seriously live here? Pretty nice digs.”
Bums in Paris are few and far between. The rest are creatures of fraud, as you’ll quickly learn. But, this gent’, asleep with his young pup is nothing but true Parisian laziness. Obviously well fed, obviously comfortable, but on the street and asking for money with the best of them.
You see her hobbling towards you. Hunched over. Leaning heavy on her new-age cane. Her eyes zeroed in on the slab of cold concrete below her feet. Her cup raised, only high enough to accept change. She personifies poverty. Invokes empathy. She is rubbish, nothing more than another hustle. Only this time, it hides behind a faux pathetic nature. Take a stroll around Paris and you’ll feel the same. You’ll see the copycats at every major intersection, walkway and museum. The same coat, cane and often enough, shoes. It’s as if these gypsies have a Costco card.
With all the bullshit, argumentative hogwash out there about what is and what isn’t graffiti and/or street art it’s nice to see Parisian artist Space Invader all over his stomping grounds. Any dickhead with a spraycan can tag a wall and claim Banksy status. Any art student with super glue and a copier can be the next OBEY. But Space Invader is of his own ilk. His work is unique, and more importantly, it’s in some of the ballsiest public areas of Paris.
Graffiti in Paris is really impressive. Kind of like New York City in the ’80s. Anyway, apparently the French are spectacular at spelling “Fuck”. Or, this is the work of some over privileged American exchange student. If that’s the case, I sure hope he gets his ass kicked.
I get what this is trying to communicate, sort of. But the language truly is piss poor. It sure is cool though.
No one has ever predicted the future in any sort of reasonable way. Anyone can say, “Something bad will happen.” Because duh, of course something bad will happen. But with all the flying car, moon-man, space food crap they pile into the science fiction genre they never hit on things that actually change our world. Things like iphones, laptops, Facebook, the mp3, or any practicle application that dramatically changes the way we interact daily with both peers and the world at large. That’s why Anish Kapoor’s giant balls in the Grand Palais, Paris are so damn amazing. Who said we have to live in wood houses? What if we all just lived in awesome ball houses. “Oh, hurricane is on it’s way? Fuck it I’ll just deflate my house and take a quick vaca’.” “Oh damn, I hate stairs, but I sure like a giant slide.” Ok, well, you can make that in your bounce house. Also, the lighting is dramatic, romantic and sure to get you laid. Here’s what I saw, and if you don’t love it, start thinking bigger.
Anish also made “The Bean” in Chicago.
“The Bean” inspired people to rethink the way they see mirrors, vacations and photography.
In downtown Chicago you can see thousands gawking at it like total idiots.
But these giant nuts are way cooler, because you can crawl inside of them.
I needed a vacation. It was June and Chicago Winter had just ended. I needed change . I needed an escape from bad weather, big coats, ugly women and fake cheese. I needed Paris. So I booked a flight and headed to France for the first time.
I don’t speak French, and I don’t pretend to. But I regretted my ignorance instantly upon touching down in Paris. One by one, exquisite Parisian women began asking me for directions and cigarettes. Naturally I handed out both tobacco and directional advice like candy. Allowing smoke to fill the language gap.
Paris had three lessons for me. Eat good cheese, often. American’s are both fat and ugly. And, no matter where you travel, you will run into skull splitting, stroke inducing, suicide creating American Pop Music.
I shot plenty in Paris, but like a tourist, an idiot, an American jackass, gettin’ my booze on, chain smoking and falling victim to constant distractions I failed to get much of anything worth while. Expect to see world class graffiti, art and some other obvious bullshit from Paris as the days pass.
Copyright 2011. Nick W. Lipton. All rights reserved.