PJ’s Blog

It’s an amazing coincidence that I just started filling my notebook with ideas for a setting to a story I’m putting together. This World Building Month thing is just perfect!

The Merriam -Webster dictionnary defines “eccentric” as:
a: deviating from an established or usual pattern or style
b : deviating from conventional or accepted usage or conduct especially in odd or whimsical ways.

In this definition, I am proud to define myself as an eccentric, in my vain and self-centered way. I also find interresting that the majority of my friends fit the definition quite well, from nude models and video game programmers, to snake entusiasts and BDSM lovers…

The problem is, when you start thinking about it, is that everyone has their own quirks their own eccentricities, small as they may be, but all mean that the actual center, the simple norm is a rather lonely place, where very few can be found. So if everyone is strange, no one is, in short… So I can stop wearing black and leather, I can grow back my hair to a respectable cut, I can go back home to Canada and find a job as a civil servant. I can start watching the dead dog news over dinner, listening to Celine Dion and voting for the conservatives, because in the end, no matter all we do, we’re all freaks no matter what…

So, when all is said and done, once I know that I’m just another freak among freaks, why do I still shave my head? Why do I still take pictures with a century old camera? Why did I move away from my home and took my wife and kid to a strange country a continent away? Why do I dress in black and wear a top-hat? Why did I chose renaissance swordplay as a martial art? Why is it so important to me to be one step outside of the accepted circle? Why is it so darn important to me to be seen as the odd guy?

I guess it’s a matter of competition. I don’t feel confident enough to take on the world on its own turf, so I create my own rules, I specialize in being alone in my branch, this way I can be the best out of one!

I guess that it’s the ultimate perk of being an eccentric…

When I consider the amount of time I formerly spent in front of the TV, I’m amazed to read me say this, but I’m happy without my TV!

I’m happy without sitcoms, I’m happy without crappy reality shows, I’m happy without re-runs, without soaps, without local news… I do spend quite a lot of time in front of my computer, in fact it’s my main window to the world, where I get my news, my contact with my friends overseas, That’s where I put my photos, my thoughts, my writing, but all of this is a little more active for my brain than sitting in front of the TV, watching girls in bikini eat bugs… (fear Factor, anyone??)

I’ve been in Belgium for more than a year (almost one and a half, in fact…), and we’ve never had a TV in that time, and don’t plan on getting one… We watch movies on the ‘puter, but movies we tend to pick for their non-brain-devouring characteristics, so the brain-dead factor is less of an issue…

No TV allows me to work more efficiently on more projects at the same time, I’m learning new stuff everyday from the web and from life that no episode of Survivor or Desperate housewives could ever teach me…

In short, I’m glad I don’t have a TV anymore, and I’m glad my kids won’t either, at least for the next few years…

Over the last few days I’ve talked about the relationship between art and photography, about how the technical aspect of photography might or might not be an integral part of the images, about stuff that shows that frankly, I think too much…

Where does my own work come into all of this ? Why do I make images, why do I take images of whatever it is I take images of ? The first thing to clear in this reflection is do I consider myself an artist ?
What the heck does it mean to be an artist ? This is a strange one, because many people who produce incredible works of art don’t consider themselves artists, and many people who consider themselves artists produce well, crap… (some literally…)

I consider myself a photographer, which means that I am someone who takes photographs. Artist is such a loaded term that I find it hard to relate to it. Being an artist for means being part of the art community as a social activity, means trying to Be someone, being an artist has undertones of hypocrisy, contempt, considering yourself as a higher being, trying to be famous. I know very well that most artists are none of those things, but that’s what comes into my mind when I hear the term “artist”… And don’t get me started on “Artist statements” which are a tool of the devil, if you ask me… They are just a way for art historians to have an easier job classifying artists. They are a product of art schools. Art schools… Now that’s a good subject… I understand the need of feeding on the experience and knowledge of experimented artists, I understand fully the reason for learning techniques and history and all that stuff, but someones doesn’t become an artist because he has gone through art school, and art school is far from being the only way to become an artist… (And then again, this reflection might be the voice of my own frustration at not being an “official artist” who’s gone through the usual hoops…)

Now, back to being a photographer… Photography is a technical media, I’ve gone through that in the last few days, so in my opinion being a photographer means being in control of the technical part of our work. Whether we stick to one recipe or experiment, a photographer needs to have some idea of what he is doing. And my work of the last few years has been about getting this control, developing my technical skills, finding a “recipe” that works for me, and that will produce images of which I will be proud. There are already images in my work that I am proud of, this one here is a good example of one of my images I quite like. I am not denying the fact that it is an academic, classic nude, that it doesn’t reinvent anything in the depiction of women in art, it’s just a photo. It’s an illustration of my learning process, in a way. One day I’ll do better, I think. One day I’ll find my own voice and produce amazing images which will be forever known and loved, and I will be famous, the most famous-est of all photographers, living or dead. People will come from all corners of the galaxy to have their people taken by me… Or maybe not. I’ll go back to my camera, and expose a few sheets of film I think… The rodinal must have gone up to my head…