Its been a strange sort of week, we arrived back from the road trip just in time for band rehearsals for Wednesdays gig at the Saskatoon Jazz festival and to get the gear packed for the next road trip to the Winnipeg folk festival after Fridays performance at the Canada Day celebrations in Saskatoon. I’ll do a blog on the gigs separately after the gig photos have been approved.
On my first or second night in Saskatoon I had promised the local 4 year old kids soccer team that I would turn up for their final coaching session and do a team photo and player portraits for them. I know a couple of kids in the team and thought it would be a neat wee present for them all. Of course the pressure is on because I dont like to promise anything to kids but not deliver and they are usually some of the fiercest critics as they arent afraid to say what they think.
The evening went well but still managed to get myself bit again by the mosquitos – seems to be habit forming on recent trips for me. I cant publish the kids photos for obvious reasons, I’d love to but its just not the done thing but I thought I’d mention them in the blog regardless.
The following day was a completely different ball game, literally.
I got a rare opportunity to photograph a pre season training session for the Saskatchewan Roughriders. Id not really heard of them before I arrived here but you cant miss them when you are here, stores everywhere, merchandise everywhere, flags, banners, slogans, wall to wall green and white. They are third in merchandising sales of any team in Canada which in a hockey mad country says a lot.
The Roughriders are the CFL team for the province, thats the Canadian version of American Football. A lot of the guys are ex-NFL or are poached from here for the NFL (one of their players went last year).
Its hard for me to describe but getting the opportunity to photograph from the touchline is the equivalent of some random person who doesnt know who Man U or Liverpool are being asked if they fancied photographing their big pre-season training session a couple of days before the season starts.
How could I say no?
Of course I was also there to document one of the media teams who interview the teams and produce a local television show dedicated to the riders.
It was an odd experience because I just happened to be wearing a Liverpool FC football shirt so a couple of the guys asked me about it including one Ac Milan fan. There were people in the crowd watching who would have sold their children to get to chat with the players on the pitch warming up and one said to me thats the equivalent of you walking in off the street and talking to Wayne Rooney at Old Trafford.
I was interested in a range of photos, other than some photos of local irish american football teams playing in the park and a bit of interest in NFL when I was at school (Chicago Bears if you must know), I know nothing about the sport, so really was looking for more ‘colour’ than actual sporting action.
I had a quick chat with the local newspaper photographer who thought I was over for the Royal Tour. Our music/photography tour certainly was regal but not in the way he thought. I didnt get much of rundown on the plays as they still keep the cards close to their chest with the season only a couple of days away.
The level these guys play at and the sheer size and bulk of these guys is “awesome” up close. I know that word is overused in this particular neck of the woods but to feel these guys running past, holding each other and these were teammates in practise, and the odd knock, made me think I wouldnt really like them if they were angry.
The video crews arent allowed to video the plays and the practise so I was almost knocked down in the scrum for the player interviews at the end of the session. The quarterback was interviewed and the guys openly chatted about their merchandising deals and contracts etc which was refreshing compared to some of the prima donnas in the premier league.
One of the guys who had just struck a potato chip deal (crisps) was asked if the chips were healthy. Now back home we would have got some bland crap or a pr person stepping in but the guy said they werent, they were chips, they werent meant to be healthy and everyone loved eating a bag of them. Everybody laughed and I found that so refreshing. People out in baking heat, standing around waiting for these guys who just seemed happy to talk and sharing a laugh.
The way sport should be and probably why this teams colours are everywhere and everyone loves them…
…Something a lot of professional sports teams could learn from…
…I’ll certainly be watching their results from now on.
Its the eve of the World Cup. Its not quite Christmas Eve but its not far off.
Firstly to those who say ‘its only a game’, ‘is that football on again’, ‘it it nearly over yet’, ‘wasnt this on yesterday’, I say Wise Up!
4 weeks of almost non-stop football. Schedules rearranged, painting, gardening, eating timed to coincide with halftimes, times between games and thankfully a decent hour of the day for games to start.
There is absolutely nothing like it on earth, truly the greatest show on earth.
Ive been one of the lucky people who has actually been to a World Cup. Ive always raved about live sports or events and since before I can remember Ive been going to live football, gaa, dog and horse racing, boxing, music, events and honestly to those people who have ever only seen these things on tv, add a big event to the list of things to do before you die.
I got a taster back in 1998 when I was lucky or unlucky enough to be in Paris a couple of days before the world cup started. Walking down the Champs Elysees the place was filled with people from what seemed like every nation on the globe. Groups of fans everywhere and I’ll never forget the Brazilians dancing to the Samba band within earshot of the Arc De Triomphe. Those young ladies must have been very cold indeed
Four years later I was there in Japan. It was one of those ‘if I dont do it now I will never do it’ moments. I blew everything I owned to get there, it was a make or break point in my life and if things were going to go downhill at least I would have the memories. It was a long way to go but Ireland had got there and I remember taking the phone call to say I’d got tickets. It was a great excuse to visit Japan and go completely overboard in another culture. Well thats what I thought until I got there. It was many cultures as we moved around, mini Germany in one place, mini Mexico in another, the three dancing girls from Cameroon who I didnt get a photo of.
Its hard to describe but everywhere you go you had to wear your countries shirt, I dont think there was a day in the 2 weeks I didnt wear one. Good job I had a couple or it would have been a bit of a smelly time. People just looked and smiled, people would come up to you in the street and engage you in conversation even though you had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. It didnt seem to matter really.
With any event of this magnitude there are always problems, we couldnt get tickets for other games despite setting the alarm for 2am and going to the internet cafe across the road. The ticketing system couldnt cope so on the tv there was coverage of stadiums within 10 mins train ride with 10k empty seats. I remember sitting in one of the many press hangouts in Tokyo and some journalists from a ‘soccer’ country were giving one of the local fixers a lot of grief. They listed problem after problem and the Japanese guy just smiled nodded and very politely wrote everything down. One of the journos finished off by saying ‘we told you about these problems yesterday’ to which the guy replied ‘No sir, we fixed all yesterdays problems, these are new problems today’. Brilliant!
We did manage to get tickets for the Mexico v Croatia game which was a great meeting of cultures. The croatian fans looked like every biker gang from hell you had ever met cross bred with soviet special forces, scary looking people who still would smile and sing and get on like loons. I guess those years of civil war do rub off. The mexico fans were the opposite, singing dancing and mehico mehico ra ra ra is burned into my skull. It was a two hour train journey to the game and they never paused for breath. They must have been working in shifts as no-one could sing for 2 hours, or so I thought. When Ireland equalised against Germany I genuinely saw a whole stadium shake to people dancing up and down. Even turning the lights off and the last train going were not enough to stop people singing and dancing.
Footballs like that, its a passion, not a sport. I guess other people will say that about whatever sport or art they follow. I think its important to have that sort of passion in your life. You know you are alive.
The morning we went to the Mexico game our hotel foyer was full with some of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Above the mehico mehico ra ra ra there was an announcement then a hushed silence. I thought I had gone deaf. There was a series of names being called out and I realised that this group of about 20 people only had about 10 tickets between them. Heartbreak.
Not that we needed more mehico mehico ra ra ra but more that I could have ordered 4 tickets instead of just 2 and made two of these young ladies year by just giving them a ticket whilst they sat there weeping Sure come with us
I remember writing an online diary for the friends back home, a blog before blogs were invented. Even back in 2002 free internet in hotels and internet cafes were commonplace in Japan. It was the first time Id really seen the mobile phone phenomenon of an entire crowd taking pictures and video of a game and sending them to people. Of course there was the discussion that it was unfair that locals who didnt know the game, had no allegiances on the pitch, could get tickets and just sit there as impartial observers. I have to say it did feel odd sitting in a 40,000 seater stadium after a goal where 30,000 people clapped politely whilst 10k irish fans were going completely ape. Eventually as the tournament progressed the local fans learned jump up and down and scream and hopefully we learned how to run trains on time.
I hope this is a good World Cup but again we say that every time. My first memory of watching a World Cup was Argentina in 1978. I dont remember much about it to be honest other than ticker tape and fans just going nuts.
1982 was slightly different, two words, Gerry Armstrong. I remember watching Northern Ireland v Spain in my grannies house, people were crammed into her living room and I remember being half on half off the end of one of the chairs the whole time. When Gerry Armstrong scored you could hear the whole street cheering. When Mal Donaghy was sent off, even my Granny tutted and it wasnt just at the swearing going on around her.
1986 I was in the middle of my O Levels and I had the choice one night of sitting up late to cram for my history exam or sit and watch Brazil with my dad. Brazil won and I sat the next day during my O level trying to remember a tv programme about the Cuban Missile Crisis. In 1986 Northern Ireland were put out by a superb display by Brazil, Pat Jennings last game and what a goal by Josimar. It was just like watching Brazil.
1990. I was offered a ticket for the quarter final Ireland v Italy. My passport didnt come in time. Maybe that one extra screaming voice would have been enough to keep that Schillaci goal from going in.
1994. I crashed my bike a few weeks before the tournament and had to watch it with my arm in a sling. Not really much of a problem until you consider that I was supposed to go! Still the disappointment of watching it on tv while my mates watched it in the stadium was overcome when Ray Houghton scored against Italy in the first game.
1998. Watching the final on a wee black and white tv in a hotel in Moscow.
2002. Being there.
2006. painting one wall at a time in between games and at halftimes.
2010. Getting a boat ready between games and halftimes?
So who to support in this one. Im sorry to say I subscribe to the ABE principal (anyone but England). Its not a deep down hatred of England, its more that if they did well or won the thing we would never hear the end of it. Saying that though this year its definitely a case of ABF – anyone but France. People say we should really let the Thierry Henry thing go. To all my english friends, yes when you let the Maradona Hand of God thing go then so will we
I just hope its a good tournament and I’ll be having a sneaky following for Argentina seeing I spent some time there in the last year. Of course Ive also been to Brazil, Uruguay, Algeria (sort of), USA, Italy, seen Paraguay, Spain and have a mate from Chile. It will be interesting to see North Korea play, particularly as the people from North Korea wont.
Like I know North and South Korea have been mortal enemies for over 50 years but come on, this is football!
Just over 24 hours away from the first game South Africa v Mehico Mehico Ra Ra Ra. I wonder if I will ever get that out of my head.
Dance photography is one of my real passions in photography.
Im not a dancer, never was, never will be. I got into it by accident, a friend was dancing in a production and asked me to take a few shots, I got chatting to the artistic director and they gave me an opportunity to shoot their production and I’ve been with them 6 years now. Ive expanded to other forms of dance and other companies ranging from 6 year old kids up to people wayy past pension age (which I hope they dont mind me saying).
Theres something about it, its the movement, the flow, the telling of a story with just movement of the body. Its the only part of my job which has actually left me with a tear in my eye.
Its more than just art, to use a well worn quote, its poetry in motion and this production married dance with another art form that I am passionate about, football.
Technically its the most challenging photography I do, often you are shooting in conditions that a bat wouldnt be able to see in. Getting pin sharp images is normally what photography is all about, in this case as with other art forms its not about that, its about capturing the movement, the flow, the idea, the story.
Most press photographers are on a hiding to nothing doing this work, you cant encompass the mood and essence of a show in a 15 minute time slot. I spend time with the choreographer asking questions unrelated to photography or even dance, I watch the rehearsals, watch the pieces and get a feel for each of the dancers strengths. Then its a simple case of just tying them all together, sitting in a dark theatre where I cant see my shoelaces and ‘taking a few snaps’
I try to avoid setups, I see them too often and in most cases they are soulless. No motion, no lead into a piece and no lead out of a piece, just static. I’ve done them for poster and promo work and to be honest Id rather do a themed shot for a promo than mimic a movement from a piece.
For me, real dance photography can be a period of weeks, charting the progress, having it explained to me, having it explained to me again leading up to the one chance in full dress rehearsals to get the photos that I hope do the piece justice. In many cases its then a quick selection and get the event printer cranked up to put a selection of shots which dont give away any twists and turns up on the entrance foyer walls. For professional productions this is icing on the cake, for productions involving kids who maybe have worked all year for this moment and are now performing in a concert hall they probably couldnt afford to buy the tickets for, its momentous. Many parents see their kids in a different light with those photos and for many its the start of something big, for more than that its the one day in their life they performed on the waterfront hall stage, equally momentous and equally life changing.
Its difficult, very difficult, both technically and for the production companies. Particularly in times of recession, the arts funding gets cut and people see it as an easy cut. In school curriculums theres little slack as it is so lets cut the art/dance/music budget.
I remember very little about passing my O levels, remember very little about my A levels or indeed getting each of my two degrees. I do remember taking part on stage of the rock nativity in the Lyric Theatre with my sister in 1977 when I was 7 and she was 5. In our wee aran jumpers which was our ‘dressed up’ clothes, doing a circle walk with other kids in front of a packed audience of hundreds.
If Id never done anything else remarkable in my life, I’d have done that.
So when I got a chance to do some promo photos for Maiden Voyage’s latest production of ‘Best’ I was all ears. A dance production representing the early days of George Best, up to the time of his testamonial at Windsor Park. I am too young to remember George Best, other than the latter years and the only real interaction was sadly photographing his funeral but I remember my dads face telling me about him and how gutted I was when I went to England for the summer to try and get a summer job before going to uni and missed the testamonial at home.
The middle of November isnt a great time to try and do outdoor football shoots and it was interesting, I went out to source the props and try and find some football gear (black boots, long shorts, plain green or red top) suitable for the promo material. If all else failed we could turn my 1977 replica liverpool football shirt back to front and make a 1977 man united one. I managed to track down some souvenir shirts that had been produced with Best 11 on the back of them in the old Northern Ireland style. I phoned the artistic director and she went down and bought the remainders. All odd sizes and none fitted so the costume designer would have their work cut out for them.
After a lot of kicking balls about an empty playing fields we had a shot and off we went. I disappeared off to Argentina with the return date booked to give me time to see some walkthroughs, rehearsals and then set up for the dress and production.
Im not going to tell the story, in fact its all out there. Theres only one night left and thats in Downpatrick this Friday night. I’ll be there for the closing show, if you google a maiden voyage best and bbc ni you should see the short interview piece with the choreographer Andy. Why Andy labours on George Best eating muesli is anyones guess but it gives a view on the piece. Media interest has been worldwide with a correspondent from Brazil attending the opening night and a good review in the Irish Times.
I think this is a show that could tour and certainly the interest in George Best himself could see the performance being taken to the likes of Manchester, Glasgow, Dublin etc.
So what did I think of it, well normally I dont get to see the pieces, I concentrate on little pieces, the poses and poise of the dancers, where they position themselves on the floor, where Im likely to get the best angles, trying not to end up in a heap on a dark floor or cause any distractions. I remember little snippets, little sections of dance, bits that stand out from a dance, choreographic or photographic point of view. Only when you sit back, put the cameras away and watch the show do you get the whole picture.
I did mention earlier that the show brought a tear to my eye, and it wasnt until they played the George Best interview with Gay Byrne on the late late show towards the end of the piece. (google it).
It goes something along the lines of ‘I hope at the end of the day, all the rubbish they have read about me, the women and the cars and the gambling, the booze, whatever, that thats the one thing they will always remember, they cant take that away from me.’
Well it finally had to happen. I managed to drag myself away from photographing beautiful women and drinking cheap beer to get my ass down into Buenos Aires.
It was time to get the camera out, dodge the muggers and thieves and get down to photographing the tourist spots.
But first another cup of coffee.
Then a look at the thermometer which surely must be wrong.
Then a look outside up into direct sunlight that would make a gremlin shriek.
So after two hours of faffing around further it was decided that no it wasnt going to get any cooler and we had a 3 hour window of good light to get at least some tourist shots under my belt.
When I came here I had two A4 pages of shots I wanted to take. I showed this to my hosts who did a lot of tutting, pointing, and sharp intakes of breath only before seen in the world of automobile mechanics.
It was decided that if I want to get home in approximately the same number of pieces I came in I’d better limit myself to all the other photos of Buenos Aires there are on the net.
It became apparent that there are only certain pictures from certain angles for a reason, firstly few tourists seem to come here and those that do are only stopping off for a day or two on the way to Antarctica or Patagonia or some other remote reason.
Thats a shame and then again it isnt. As people have offered by email I’ve long since lost hope of my chances of getting a job with the Argentinian tourist board. I like to think of myself as fairly streetwise having grown up in the lower falls area of Belfast during the height of the troubles but I keep reminding myself, you dont know _here_.
Thats what I have local guides for and for those of you thinking of travelling to places like BA this is well worth the investment. I say investment as its not really an expense. A local guide can give you a flavour no disney like cruise ship day pass can ever do.
Be sensible, dont wear jewelry, expensive watches, dont walk around with designer clothes on (fake or otherwise), take a minimum of stuff out with you, keep a photocopy of your passport somewhere. Always bear in mind that most crime is opportunist, no matter what country you are in. Dont take strange cabs, I had two young women jump in my car in Belfast one night and ask me to take them home because they couldnt afford a taxi. If I wasnt acting like their big brother I wonder what the hell they were thinking of. One lived up a dark road just outside Belfast and got me to drop them off there. Height of stupidity. But they were drunk, on a work night out and had spent their last few quid on a kebab rather than a bus or taxi.
It also sounds heartless but try to distance yourself from obvious targets as you might get caught in the crossfire.
Getting back to today the plan was to go to La Boca, walk to Caminito then walk round the shoreline to Puerto Madero. Sounds simple enough. Then why are tour busses dropping people off at the Boca stadium door, picking them up there then driving them the couple of blocks to Caminito? As my guide said, well it may just be a short distance between here and there but the muggers know that tourists will be walking that way so take your pictures, put your camera in your bag and then we walk down.
I stopped to get a picture of a local cop who was standing on the ‘border’ street corner giving out advice. He posed for a picture and asked me to make sure I captioned it with the word ‘underpaid’, so I will. We walked a block (about 100m) away from the Boca shops and had lunch, a steady stream of the odd one or two tourists walked past looking obviously like tourists and covering their cameras round their necks with their hands. Yes from my experience of Northern Ireland I highly doubt that will stop a bullet.
So on to Caminito and to be honest as a lot of the locals here describe it its the disneyworld version of BA. A couple of brightly painted houses, street cafes that even Michael Schumacher couldnt weave his way through and a few handicrafts stalls. We even had a Maradona lookalike to get photos with. Poor guy must have ate a lot of pies to get that physique.
I was more interested in the old areas that Caminito had been refurbished from, lots of old colonial and crumbling architecture, old bridges and cranes undergoing refurbishment. Real town planning or lack of in all its glory. As with any waterfront each building tells a part of the history and one leads to another telling the story of the area.
Then I got stopped by the police.
At first I thought it was something to do with no photos in the port area, there was a sign saying argentine naval prefecture or something like that so thought it must be something military. When my guides translated it as, your friend will not make it through this area alive, not with those trainers, we decided to get the bus to Puerto Madero.
On the bus through what can only truly be described as a slum it was obvious that our maps didnt tell the whole story, from tourist traps of Caminito to 3rd world in less than 300 yards. It was that stark.
Dont get me wrong when you live in that type of poverty and I remember similar stuff growing up, you really cant blame people for taking the only routes open to them. It is good to sit in an ivory tower and say I wouldnt do this or I wouldnt do that, you never know what you will do until you are in that situation. If your family havent eaten for 3 days and some dumbass tourist walks past with something that will feed your family for a month, then dont say what you would do in that situation until you are actually there.
As the saying goes, ‘Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes’, which reminds me I better put both pairs of Nikes back in the bag and buy something local.
As we got off the bus at Puerto Madero there was the sight of two cops in a wee hut which now I come to recognise as the boundaries of safe areas. We stay in a relatively safe area, the shops dont have grills on the windows and at busy times theres an armed cop every 100 metres or so. In the other areas they seem to be just left to get on with it.
Puerto Madero is a testament to new money, like a lot of other previously neglected cities it is full of gleaming new buildings, lovely walkways by the water, new bridges, cafes, expensive shops, a nice place to be. For me though I could be any modern city. The Santiago Calatrava bridge has its double in Dublin and to be honest it reminded me a lot of the regeneration of Dublins docks. The layouts were similar, right up to the masted ship sitting next to the Calatrava bridge. Maybe he thought no-one would find out.
Dear people of Buenos Aires,
I’ve designed you a new bridge that represents two people doing the Tango.
‘Santiago, Dublin have been on the phone asking where their new bridge design is’
‘Quick give me the Buenos Aires one’ quick scribble ‘Here that will do’
Dear people of Dublin,
I’ve designed you a new bridge that represents the Irish harp.
Well ok maybe a slight exaggeration but judge for yourselves.
So where does the take the boy out of Belfast come in?
Well at the start of the journey we visited the home of Boca Juniors. Argentinas best club ever (so I’m told). As I was completely unattached in the Argentine football world I am now a Boca fan.
So the stadium tour had to be done. Due to my love of football and having been in or toured a lot of the worlds great stadiums this really was the highlight of the day for me. Getting in and around the stadium, seeing the terracing, long since gone from UK football, the sparse nature of the visiting dressing room to the plush surroundings of the home dressing room with accompanying underground 5 a side warm up pitch. Just what you want to see, opposition – sod them!
On the tour the tour guide said she would split the couple of hundred people up into two groups, the spanish speakers and the english ones. So we were left in a group of about 9 and asked where we were from. Poland, England, Ireland, Scotland, France. We were then asked what teams we supported, which of course in my case is Liverpool (for my sins). As they went from Warsaw to Middlesborough to Norwich, the scottish guy in front of me said ‘Rangers’. Now, I dont follow Scottish football but something deep down in me wanted to scream ‘Celtic’. I did think better of it as to come halfway round the world to start a sectarian fight would only leave the muggers very confused.
So you can take the boy out of Belfast but you cant take Belfast out of the boy.
Well I said when I started this blog that it would be updated once a week, possibly with two subjects, one topical and one in depth but I doubt theres an Irishman on the planet who doesnt have a word to say about Thierry Henry. Let me start by adding some good words about Thierry Henry. I think hes one of the coolest mofos on the planet, not a title I give out willy nilly, just watching him play for Arsenal was watching poetry in motion, lots of Va Va Voom and Je Ne Sais Quoi.
Of course that was before last Wednesday and now hes just a dirty cheating .
Now as with most people I would like to think what I would do in the same situation but I do realise that what we do do when faced with a certain set of circumstances aint necessarily what we would like to do or should do. I’ve played football (mainly as a goalkeeper) and I’ve told the ref when I’ve tipped the ball over the bar for a corner when hes asked, then again I’ve also threw myself on top of a ball as its crossed the line so as to hide it from the ref and then stand up as if I’ve stopped it on the line. Problem with me though is that Im pretty much an honest sod and if asked I wouldve told the truth. Its because of no sense of goodness or maybe it is but if I lie my face goes red and I could never be sure the ref didnt see it and was asking to send me off for unsportsmanslike conduct!
The France Ireland game is over, France are going to the world cup, noone in their right mind is going to jeopardise the financial windfall a place in the World Cup will bring to a nation particularly in the middle of a recession. Its time to suck it up, take it on the chin, boycott Gillette until they dump Henry and dont buy any Renault Clios in Ireland. Of course I’ve never had any intention of buying a Renault Clio and indeed would not like to see the Renault company or any car dealership in Ireland suffer financially (particularly as I was a photo tutor for their Renault Experiences programme ) but in this day in age of Mega sponsorship, any player should be clean cut (if you excuse the expression). This is where Thierry Henry will and should be hit hard. Hes a cheat. End of. I know I’ve bought my last Gillette razor and shaving gel and I know others who feel the same.
I cant really tell anyone to ‘get over it’ without mentioning the other clown of the week, Roy Keane. I agreed with a lot of what Roy Keane said but can I just say that I spent every last penny I had in 2002, after having had a horrendous year, to go to the World Cup in Japan. People have called Keane a judas and a traitor but who am I to argue, theres the old saying about the name on the front being more important than the name on the back and Keane should have remembered this. How many kids out there dream of pulling on their nations jersey and stepping out onto the turf at a World Cup. Now how many actually get the chance?
Of course before the tournament in 2002 I’d made arrangements with a major tv company to follow me and my mate Des around Japan and when the Keane thing blew up they disappeared off to Japan to cover that instead. Ah who needs the loan of an expenses account anyway
Sorry Roy, you had a fight with the FAI 7 years ago, build a bridge and get over it.
So what on earth has any of this to do with photography?
Well about 6 years ago I did a craft fair to help out raise money for my nephews school. Its the one and only of these that I’ve ever done because it was for charity and at my own cost. I did out a few framed photos, footballers, ice hockey players, scenery, that sort of thing and put them up for reasonable prices. One young lad came up to me and had a look through all the primarily Northern and Republic of Ireland footballers then stood around with that ‘talk to me’ look that only 10 year old boys have when they are too scared to talk to the scary man behind the desk.
‘Can I help you’
‘Yes Mister, is that all the football photos you have?’
‘No, I have other players, who are you looking for?’
‘Sorry son, I dont have a premiership license so I dont have any photos of Arsenal.’
‘Ahh ok, hes brilliant, Ive posters of him all around my room, if you get any let me know.’
‘Ok I will’.
I wonder if he thinks the same now?
On another photography related note when I do training courses or just in general people ask various photography questions. Different audiences ask different things, can you photoshop a third eye into the middle of my head (nursery and primary school photo training) – yes, who is most famous person you have photographed – Russell Crowe? Mel Gibson? and whats the most you have got for one picture -10,000 dollars.
All of the answers above usually get a wow from the respective audiences and people ask what type of photo gets the most money. I usually answer that if I knew that I wouldnt be talking to them, writing a blog on a cold wet rainy night in Northern Ireland but I would be buying all my new friends a drink on a beach in the Carribean.
I’ll tell you one thing though, if youd got a clean frame of that handball incident by Henry you would be eagerly awaiting your monthly agency statement.
Oh and I’ll take which photo earned 10k to my grave with me