Stolen portraits this week featuring people at the older end of the spectrum. The demographic wasn’t consciously intentional but I have found I am drawn towards photographing the aged not just because they have a lot of visual appeal but because you can see more of their life in their faces. The trials and tribulations of their existence are etched into their lines, whilst the eyes reveal more than they would maybe wish. On a practical front they also move a lot slower so are easier to capture.
This is of benefit to me as I am also running slower at the mo and this elderly focus is because I am sort of living the life of an old person currently. I shuffle about at a snail’s pace, have aches and pains and make a day out of going to the local shops and back. So think this affinity could definitely be putting them more on my radar.
I used to look at old age as something undesirable. My Grandma always used to say “It’s no good getting old” for but now I see that it is a sign of success. It means you got to live a life and that is a gift regardless. And I have also worked out that age does not matter. But health does. As does functionality. Without either you have nothing. It doesn’t matter how old you are, it’s what you can do that matters. If you are fit you are fine. If you are not you are not.
From a youthful perspective old age doesn’t look like fun but when you are young you fail to appreciate that existence is everything. Quality of life is crucial to happiness but you will continually move the goalposts as to what is acceptable or tolerable because the will and the need to survive overrides all other feelings. You will endure whatever life throws at you because in any capacity it is better than the alternative which is not living. Yes I know our molecules will never die and we will be re-incorporated into the cosmos for all eternity and who knows what might follow (altho the fluffy cloud harp option does seem unlikely) but it won’t stop any of us clinging on to this precious beautiful fleeting life with all our might. I mean, we might as well, what else are we gonna do?
Some bold clothing choices this week. Those who dare to wear. Fashionistas that really don’t give a fuck.
I have always admired those who express themselves through their clothing. Whether they are unconcerned by the approval of others or trying to get noticed, which paradoxically are two opposites, the end result is the same. I also like couples and bezzie mates combine and compliment their styles. As if they become each other’s accessories. Individuality in pairs (another paradox right there).
It does seem to me that people dress up more in everyday life and I think that is because every situation could potentially be an instagram opportunity. So gone are the days when you just chuck on whatever and leave the house, you get dressed up no matter what, even if you aren’t meeting anyone, just in case you find a backdrop that screams ‘likes’.
On a Saturday down Portobello you get a lot of people really dressed up, flaunting their best outfits, that to me, look like they would be reserved for a swanky event, but maybe days out are the new nights out. It does seem slightly strange to me to get all dolled up to go to what is basically a market but there you go.
I actually think uninhibited freedom of expression through our personal style is a great symbol of an open society that isn’t insisting on conformity through repression. In London you can wear what the fuck you want and yes you might get the odd glance but most peeps don’t give a shit and you won’t get harassed for it neither.
So this is a celebration of all you dedicated followers of fashion. Be brave, be bold, be beautiful.
I used to see this colourful character all the time in the neighbourhood. He also had another hat the same as this one but it said “Wanker” on it as oppose to ‘Xanax”. I never saw him with out either one on but I was never able to get a shot of him wearing the other hat, much to my disappointment. Always thought it was a bold choice. I haven’t seen him for a while so can only assume he moved out.
Last of the mask wearers this week…it is becoming more and more unusual to see people with masks on in this country. For most the pandemic is well and truly over yet for a minority it is still a concern who are still trying to protect themselves from the invisible enemy.
It was always invisible to the human eye which is which is one of the reasons it was so difficult for a lot of people to get their heads around but now that they have stopped releasing daily covid numbers it really is a case of out of sight out of mind.
We were never big on mask wearing in this country. Our gov was slow to recommend it and then when they did it never really cemented itself in the actions of the public like it did elsewhere. In fact, when people visit England over the last year or so from other countries they were shocked how little mask wearing was happening here. For some reason in the U.K it was a cultural a no no but I’m not exactly sure why.
We are normally very law-abiding in this country. Look at how we queue. And yet this face covering request was rallied against from day one by a giant chunk of the population. It brought out the rebel in everyone. And now you are not legally required to wear them anymore it has been dropped by virtually everyone. I am still wearing masks in shops and on transport and you now get looked at like you are the weirdo but I have been ill for 2 years so am still doing everything I can not to get it again, as are a lot of vulnerable people or those who are shielding for others. For us this situation has not gone away and won’t for a while longer. Maybe a lot longer…
But to be masked up is not the end of the world. It still makes me feel like a cool bandit/superhero/ninja warrior. And there are also many worse things you have to do in this life. Yes they’re a pain in the arse a lot of the time but they’re not trauma inducing. I just wish to fuck I could just once wear a mask with glasses and not have them steam up. I do not know how people do it. It’s like the dark arts or somit. You need to sell your soul to Satan to make that shit work I swear…
p.s if international readers are wondering why I’m doing a wrap up on a Wednesday it’s because it’s the Queen’s Jubiliee weekend and we’re getting a 4 day weekend starting tomorrow…whoop di whoop.
What do all the people in the shots this week have in common? Well nothing other than they are all sat down. This is actually not really to do with them. It’s actually all about me. Why? Because I am currently living life sat on the subs bench..and have been since I last did this blog. Actually, to be fair, I probably get the equivalent of one minute per game to shuffle around the pitch before being hauled off on a stretcher. It’s quite a frustrating way to live.
It takes forever for my body to recharge and then I am a spent force within a nanosecond and I then have to start the process all over again. Like filling up your car at the petrol station but instead of it taking a couple of minutes it takes a full week and then it will only get you to the end of the forecourt before conking out and then you have to then push it back to the pumps and start all over again. I am basically the never getting anywhere boulder pushing ancient Greek dude Sisyphus (encapsulated in glorious GIF form below for a visual on my current existence)
What is also beyond infuriating AKA driving me fucking nuts is that I am constantly yoyo-ing between relapse and recovery. I feel ok for a bit and then I overdo it and I am tossed back in the hole (which I have been in and out of 3 or 4 times since I have been away) And for the record, me overdoing it means doing something so inconsequential it probably wouldn’t even register to you as even doing anything at all. Like speaking
The worse thing is that each time I feel better I think this is it, I’m out, I’m in the clear, it’s all over..but invariably it isn’t and the merry go round continues. The disappointment is kinda crushing tbh. I have likened it to being on death row and getting a reprieve, but when you get to the gates they say, sorry mate, there’s been a mistake, you’ve got to go back in. And so you go back into your cell and await the next false reprieve and so on and so on..
And yet just like them old dumb boxers I keep getting knocked down but I keep getting up again (yes I have had a lot of time to think of analogies that describe my situation) Guess I just don’t know when to quit. I am currently on the ropes and getting a proper pummeling but I ain’t giving up just yet. In all honesty I haven’t started this blog up again because I was feeling better, I just need to do something as oppose to nothing..the relentless boredom coupled with not being creative was really starting to do me ‘ed in.
I actually read this great quote (thanks @verseandproseau) which has helped propel me back into action…
“If you do not answer the noise and urgency of your gifts, they will turn on you. Or drag you down with their immense sadness at being abandoned.” (Joy Harj)
And I have had quite enough of that as it is and it’s not just me either. The Long Covid community as a whole feels like it has been abandoned, dismissed, ignored and left to cope with a condition that has taken us all totally out of the game (back to the football analogy) and with no real way of knowing when or even if we will ever be back in play again…
Medical moan disclaimer: I share all this not for sympathetic gain but because most people now know somebody who has L.C and so I think it’s important to explain how much it affects us because on the outside we look sorta normal. And also, as it’s kinda dominating my life at present it means I’ve been up to sweet fuck all other than this crapola and therefore don’t really have anything else to report for now..but don’t fret, I haven’t returned just to make this a platform for my own misery..I will also use it to highlight other miseries such as impending climategeddon, war, the cost of living crisis and the never ending moral decline of this country..just to keep your spirits up..;)
Actually I might just stick to pics for a while..ease meself back in and all..
..and so I’m back..from outer space, well, no, not really. I’ve been staring into space. Not sure that’s quite the same thing. Anyways, had been waitin till I felt A-OK to resume service but if I do that I ain’t ever gonna get rollin so like I said before, if I disappear again at least you know where I went…you can’t blame a guy for tryin..hopefully you are slightly happier to see me than this guy is…
