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This is the Rebellion against overproduced images often in the digital world. These are images made from my film cameras. Each image I shot myself. The subjects are often friends, and acquaintances in their world.

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El Mundo es un Paneulo(Spanish transliterated expression for “What a Small World”) Let me describe the scene.  Pacific Pallisades.  We are shooting on location at yet another dope house.  And whilst sitting around breakfast, that was catered by Electric Avenue, we are drinking the gourmet coffee and tea, and pastries, oh my.  We are five very straight dudes, in a photo world that is comprised mostly of non-straight dudes.  And our machismo is thick around the table.  So thick that we are slinging insults and rudeness aplenty, more so than most set decorum allows, and its raunchy.  The kind I would insult my brother raunchy.  But just like my brother, its all in good jest. He’s French-Canadian.  But there is something uniquely familiar about him, and he recognizes that in me too.  This is the fourth day of shooting, and in the business, you often run into people again from a job previous and the entire time you are trying to figure out what the heck the job was that you worked on last with them.  As a freelancer, I will often do two to four jobs in a week, and work with none of the same people.  Compound that with working in this business in LA since 2005, and that’s a lot of different people, in random locations with not much in common except the color of the money that dishes out within 30 days if you are lucky.   I can’t place the job.  Neither can he.  Something mysteriously recognizable.   So the job wraps, and we are headed out.  The photographer(an ex-model, although she still looks amazing and probably could make a number of current ones nervous, because she has gravitas), decides to go get some drinks and celebrate.  I don’t drink but I also can’t turn down free nachos and a killer conversation with the same set of guys and of course all the other people who join in.   I happen to sit next to him at the table and again, the familiar talk, mentioning jobs as references points to origin.  Sounds like this: “Verizon?” “Which one?”   “When we rigged to the sky crane, and that director wanted to boom down from like 40 feet?” “Nope that wasn’t us, I did one in Santa Barbara about 2 years ago.” “Disney @ the Phantom Stage at Universal?” “Nope.” “Were you on that Samsonite ad at the Four Aces?” “No again.” “Dang it, where do I know you from?” So the Tequila begins to loosen lips, except mine, I’ve been filling my glass with water, I guess that’s no no when it comes to drinking.  And then I hear from the guy on my right… “Back in Florida, I used to go shopping at..” “Florida?”  I ask, “you are from Florida?” “Yeah.” “Where?”  “Orlando,” he says. “I’m from Orlando! Wait, what High school did you go to?” “Lake Brantley,” says the French Canadian. “Lake Mary,” I say. “No shit.” “No shit.” If there ever was two rival high schools on the same level as the Hatfield and Mccoys, or Capulets and Montagues, Israelis vs. Palestinians, Duke vs. Chapel Hill,  it would be our two high schools.  Both considered the snobby schools of the area, and often proved to be true, however he we were 17 years later, sitting next to each other in a bar in Malibu on the PCH, both of us faking shots, and eating nachos, and acting our best to be a little tipsy.  But both of us knowing we have another job tomorrow, and there are canyons we have to drive through that night. “I was on the rowing team,” he says “I was on the tennis team, but I rowed for UCF,”  did you row Port or Starboard?” “Both.” “I was a Starboard.” “This is insane.  You going home for Christmas?”  he asks. “I would like to.” “We should do this again,” he says making swirling motions over the festive table at this hole in the wall on the Pacific Ocean.” “Let’s do it, there are few other people I know here at Anonymous(Content) and Mark Burnett, that went to Lake Mary, and University High.” Here I am on the other side of the country, on the other coast, Pacific not Atlantic, and here is a guy that I probably ran into at the Homecoming game, that I probably wanted to tag his car with some LMHS stickers, and he probably stole Roscoe the Ram that year, and spray painted him blue.  The surprises in life can literally kick you in the jimmy, and sometimes I love it. Pacific Palisades, CA Rolleiflex 2.8E 80mm Schneinder-Krueznach Agfa Retro 80

El Mundo es un Paneulo(Spanish transliterated expression for “What a Small World”)

Let me describe the scene.  Pacific Pallisades.  We are shooting on location at yet another dope house.  And whilst sitting around breakfast, that was catered by Electric Avenue, we are drinking the gourmet coffee and tea, and pastries, oh my.  We are five very straight dudes, in a photo world that is comprised mostly of non-straight dudes.  And our machismo is thick around the table.  So thick that we are slinging insults and rudeness aplenty, more so than most set decorum allows, and its raunchy.  The kind I would insult my brother raunchy.  But just like my brother, its all in good jest.

He’s French-Canadian.  But there is something uniquely familiar about him, and he recognizes that in me too.  This is the fourth day of shooting, and in the business, you often run into people again from a job previous and the entire time you are trying to figure out what the heck the job was that you worked on last with them.  As a freelancer, I will often do two to four jobs in a week, and work with none of the same people.  Compound that with working in this business in LA since 2005, and that’s a lot of different people, in random locations with not much in common except the color of the money that dishes out within 30 days if you are lucky.  

I can’t place the job.  Neither can he.  Something mysteriously recognizable.  

So the job wraps, and we are headed out.  The photographer(an ex-model, although she still looks amazing and probably could make a number of current ones nervous, because she has gravitas), decides to go get some drinks and celebrate.  I don’t drink but I also can’t turn down free nachos and a killer conversation with the same set of guys and of course all the other people who join in.  

I happen to sit next to him at the table and again, the familiar talk, mentioning jobs as references points to origin.  Sounds like this:

“Verizon?”

“Which one?”  

“When we rigged to the sky crane, and that director wanted to boom down from like 40 feet?”

“Nope that wasn’t us, I did one in Santa Barbara about 2 years ago.”

“Disney @ the Phantom Stage at Universal?”

“Nope.”

“Were you on that Samsonite ad at the Four Aces?”

“No again.”

“Dang it, where do I know you from?”

So the Tequila begins to loosen lips, except mine, I’ve been filling my glass with water, I guess that’s no no when it comes to drinking.  And then I hear from the guy on my right…

“Back in Florida, I used to go shopping at..”

“Florida?”  I ask, “you are from Florida?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?” 

“Orlando,” he says.

“I’m from Orlando! Wait, what High school did you go to?”

“Lake Brantley,” says the French Canadian.

“Lake Mary,” I say.

“No shit.”

“No shit.”

If there ever was two rival high schools on the same level as the Hatfield and Mccoys, or Capulets and Montagues, Israelis vs. Palestinians, Duke vs. Chapel Hill,  it would be our two high schools.  Both considered the snobby schools of the area, and often proved to be true, however he we were 17 years later, sitting next to each other in a bar in Malibu on the PCH, both of us faking shots, and eating nachos, and acting our best to be a little tipsy.  But both of us knowing we have another job tomorrow, and there are canyons we have to drive through that night.

“I was on the rowing team,” he says

“I was on the tennis team, but I rowed for UCF,”  did you row Port or Starboard?”

“Both.”

“I was a Starboard.”

“This is insane.  You going home for Christmas?”  he asks.

“I would like to.”

“We should do this again,” he says making swirling motions over the festive table at this hole in the wall on the Pacific Ocean.”

“Let’s do it, there are few other people I know here at Anonymous(Content) and Mark Burnett, that went to Lake Mary, and University High.”

Here I am on the other side of the country, on the other coast, Pacific not Atlantic, and here is a guy that I probably ran into at the Homecoming game, that I probably wanted to tag his car with some LMHS stickers, and he probably stole Roscoe the Ram that year, and spray painted him blue.  The surprises in life can literally kick you in the jimmy, and sometimes I love it.

Pacific Palisades, CA

Rolleiflex 2.8E 80mm Schneinder-Krueznach Agfa Retro 80

Notes