Below is the smallest grip kit in the world.
Its being packed for a quick trip down to Sactown to cover the tent city issue that’s raging down there.
Amazing how a little storage bin can hold all this stuff. No hocus pocus, just straight gangsta packin’ on account of my mastery of protractors and intuitive grasp of The Golden Mean.
I also met Sian Kennedy the other day.
I’ve always loved this shot of his. This one ain’t so bad either, but that’s perspectival.
Mike
I don’t remember how I found it, but the other night I came across the video below and forwarded to Jenna.
My heart just smiled with every subsequent screening. Then this morning, I awoke and my good buddy Uncle Beefy came across the very same thing somehow and had the good sense to post for all to see. Needless to say, watched it again and was laughing aloud.
Tonight, while scanning the blogs, I came across a similar item that yet again made my ticker smile.
BOOMBOX from Ely Kim on Vimeo.
Thanks to HRO, one of my favorite blogs, for posting. *Note: if you’re getting this on an aggregator, iPhone or similar that doesn’t support flash, do yourself a favor and get to a computer to view this bro’s getdown with the getdown.
A couple weeks back I met Joseph Reohm while he was visiting Seattle. We got to talking and he’s like, ‘You know, I’m an illusionist. . .’
This of course piqued my interest, and we decided it was high time for us to get together and work on a little shoot. He noted that he was oft photographed levitating or making things float, and I asked if he’d be interested in taking a more humorous look at the ins and outs (or dangers in this instance) of being an illusionist.
Given his propensity to spoon and fork bending, I figured it might be downright frustrating at times to sit down for lunch.
What’s that you say? You were at the Emerald City Gamefest this weekend for tons of rad board games and RPG’s? No need to look surprised young lads, as I had the great pleasure of doing some portrait work of those in attendance.
Initially, I’d been trying to hunt down a backdrop with a fantasy element to support the theme of the event, but all I came across were unicorn fabrics and a faux-cloudy sky thing that just didn’t cut it.
That’s when I started thinking about a double seamless setup. Something fun and upbeat to reflect the sensibilities/personalities of the attendees, but with a royal/regal bent and got the gist of a pink and purple schematic. Also thought it interesting that its the color of Easter, and given the multitude of resurrections happening with each successive role of the dice, I thought the idea fitting.
“Ffej” as Cassie (telepath). 2008
Marcus aka MIB2404 of Munchkin, 2008.
Otto of Warhammer 40,000: Member of the White Scars Space Marines, 2008.
John as Cheldon de Moche (Hobbit Thief), 2008.
Mr. John Bradley, 2008.
Tim with the Amazing Eyebrows, 2008.
This here’s Laura. She kind of made it happen for me. She and Jenna do Aikido together, and after a recent get together celebrating those who moved up in kyu (pronounced ‘cue’), we started chatting about hobbies and work.
That’s when she mentioned, Quelf, a role-playing game that she was super fond of. She went on to say that there was an event where many would be playing it, along with a whole host of others. A couple days later, she put me in touch with the organizer, Mr. Ed Metheny.
He and his wife flew all the way up for the event from California as they’d recently moved down for work. That’s dedication. So thanks for making it happen Ed!
Of course I should say that Ed isn’t the kind of guy that strikes me as taking all the responsibility. He’d probably first thank all of the game-loving folks in and around Seattle who came out to participate. Following that up by thanking a small group of dedicated staff members who take time out of their busy schedules to locate venues, organize the day’s events and make sure there’s plenty of caffeinated sodas on hand to keep the gamers going.
Thanks to everyone I had the pleasure of meeting. I had a great time. Hope to see you all next year!
excerpt from Pumphrey Brothers show on G4 “Human Wrecking Balls” Photoshoot in LA from Michael Clinard on Vimeo.
Some time ago, on a flight back from LA with Keatley after working on the project above, I found myself wedged between Large Important Guy 1 and Large Well-Dressed Gent 6. Because I was the slimmer of the two, was one of the last to board and found myself sitting in the middle seat of our row, I was left without arm rest space.
When it comes to this unspoken bit of territory, the tension is quite palapable. Its the proverbial elephant in the room next to a patchouli wearing guy/gal that’s about to go backpacking through Europe, and he/she is taking your connecting flight to beef up on some zzz’s all the while digging youthful knees into the back of your seat.
Better still, I might liken it to the anxiety one feels when out with a few friends and there are 2 of the 6 best hors d’oeuvres you’ve ever had left on the plate, and you know you’ve already eaten you’re mathematical portion.
I’m pretty non-confrontational, so living in Seattle over the last few years has really honed my passive-aggressive skills to a precision point. That said, in the battle over arm rest rank, I make a strategic seat-back position maneuver to full reclined position as soon as the jet takes off from the runway. This tactic is guaranteed to yield another four inches to any standard arm rest on any arm rest opponent.
Its proven time and again that from this post, you can then take your opponents’ rank incrementally through subtle and well-calculated strategic movements and shifts when he/she goes to take a sip of water or turns the page of their reading material.
Me about to make my Big Debut on Little People Big World Holiday Special on TLC from Michael Clinard on Vimeo.
On another note, the video above is minutes prior to my big debut on Little People Big World. Long story short, I was there to lend location assistance/lighting support again to Mr. Keatley, but there was another photographer there: an Olan Mills portrait photographer to document the 30 odd family members in attendance.
With the filming and production schedule to keep, on top of the fact that these people were genuinely looking to eat dinner, we were all a little pressed for time. The producer informs me that I’m just going to go in and start setting up lights and it might seem that I’m the local Olan Mills photographer’s assistant. Which I expressed would be fine, provided I wouldn’t be cast in some strange completely-out-of-context light whereby a strobe might misfire, the Olan Mills lady would get snappy and then it’d be some extreme close-up on my face with a boing’ing spring sound effect.
Over the weekend, I had the pleasure of photographing Shannon from Virginia for the Refugee project I’ve been working on. A former paranormal investigator, Shannon’s got a great sense of humor and equally interesting specs to match.
A couple of outtakes:
This is Big Al: esteemed Seattle photographer by day, over-40’s league soccer player by night.
Alex Hayden
Don’t let his boyish good looks fool you, his lighting techniques are up there with God’s work on the fourth day. And that modern-day Farrah he’s rocking is not to be messed with. I was too close to him once, perhaps less than six inches from his left shoulder, as he executed his trademarked ‘flip’, and his locks nearly took my head off.
Big Al reflecting on his life and times
In reference to his wispy locks, Hayden notes, “I had to cut them back. I’m rocking a tamer ‘business in the front, party in the back’ aesthetic.” When pressed further, he suggests he’s more approachable now.
“I guess I didn’t want to just be known as ‘the-photographer-with-a-great-head-of-hair.’ I mean, its always been about the images and the play of light and shadow. . . this just helps us all focus on that now,’ he muses while tapping out the beat to a popular Clash song with his bubble level, a necessity on many of Hayden’s productions.
A Master at Rest
Keep your eyes peeled for his upcoming interview in Professional Photographer Magazine where he reveals a great number of his lighting secrets along with business tips and insider knowledge culled from his over 20 year commercial photography career.
I’m a big fan of Harper’s. The articles are stimulating, and when you read sections like Index, Excerpts and/or Findings, it immediately raises your IQ in ten point incrementals. Read it two or three months in a row, and it’ll cause heavy brain drip from the nose what with all the knowledge you’re attempting to make room for.
You can say something like: anthropologists determined there was an early ancestor of primordial man that laughed. AND you’d be right.
So in my best Harper’s Magazine-type, deadpan delivery style of Index and Findings, here goes. Bare in mind that the images don’t truly exist in a Harper’s but think of the allusions and what one might see if the story could be in pictures:
I typed something out that had another day in the sun in a different context, in a different arena of readership, altogether. In the dark of Magnuson Park, folk in Seattle took photos. Moving pods were packed by Michael Clinard, Jacob Gerber and Gina Cholick–who is currently on her way to LA to tear it up down there (photos of moving pods are everywhere, I like this photo more). When Day/Nyquil bottles are left about the kitchen, smooshed paper towels work wonders to combat pet hair and dander from entering into the inherent technique of delivery. Gretag Macbeth color cards and ASUS eee PC’s are delicious. Jenna and Michael are swing dancing.
Today is crappy movie day on Showtime. Out of Omaha a.k.a. California Dreaming just concluded and is some version of the original National Lampoon’s crossed with RV. Arizona Summer–a cross between Hey Dude from Nickelodeon and the acting in some instructional video you watched in middle school–has just started. Its one not to be missed so set your DVR. . . oh, and since writing this add Crash Landing to the list.
In even sadder news, the other day, I was passenger in a car enroute to a shoot. A bold squirrel decided that the day in question was the day he’d stand up to the noisy monsters that scream past his little bit of heaven on NE 125th in North Seattle. Running from the warmth of a little knob in his tree, he jumped in front of us and appeared to put up his little squirrel paws as if to box. As the Scion square car thing came at him, I said, ‘oh, watch out for that squirrel.’
The driver made an attempt to avoid the little guy, but as we moved to one side, Mr. Squirrel went the opposite way, then darted back the same way we’d gone and I was sure he’d been squashed. I looked back over the area we’d just passed, and through the rear view window I caught a glimpse of the little guy running away, and my heart smiled. But in a split second, a car came and instantly turned him into a tumbling pioneer hat, one like Davy Crockett or Daniel Boone would’ve worn.
Imagine a pioneer driving a convertible, and due to a gust of wind he just lost his cap as he sped down the street. Then he damned the modern day hustle and bustle as a Mitsubishi truck took it under wheel. It literally looked just like that. . . a rolling coonskin cap.
It was sad. In lighter news, here’s a scan to illustrate some recent events:
First, the yellow legal pad with the scrawl on it is one of my best inductive arguments in years. It was written as evidence for a mitigation hearing I had disputing a speed trap I’d been caught in back in November. The photo illustrates the steep grade of the hill I was traveling down. Next, got a replacement Jogr for the broken one I had, only this one is 8gb whereas the one before was only 2gb. Got the 8 gigger as it was the price I paid for the 2 gigger less than a year ago. That little rectangular gray box is my Trafficgauge. Got it free by following this link for a study UW is putting on about traffic congestion in Seattle. Last, the little blue envelope with the kitty cats on it is from my Grandmother on the occasion of my 29th birthday in early January.
Which leads me to why I started this post: My parents’ 30th anniversary that we celebrated while I was home in December. The animation below is a photo of them on that day. As a gift, I took the only photo they had from that special day and did some retouch work on it (bear in mind, the gif kind of eats up a lot of the work):
So, since this past Thanksgiving my brother, Benjamin, and I had been cooking up this surprise 30th Anniversary party for my parents. As their courting story goes, my dad was lodging at a hotel in Ohio, and due to a faulty shower head, he ran down the stairs cursing, the night porter, a young Ecuadorian lady on duty, later became my mother.
According to them, my mother was dating some guy that lived with his mom replete with outhouse on property. Seeing the other options available to her in the male persuasion, she opted to go set up camp with my dad and the rest is history. They were married in Tullahoma, Tennessee in 1977, and roughly a year later, yours truly was born.
My brother and I had worked tirelessly to convince them both to come out and pick me up at the airport. During their 6-7:30 absence from the house on Wednesday, Ben had previously instructed our 20 or so guests to arrive during that time frame and he’d park their cars ’round the corner at the neighbor’s so that when we rolled up, they’d assume nothing. To make the illusion even more complete, I drove like a mad man on the way back, replete with random braking and a smattering of road rage which is a usual stress for my Mom and it left my Dad to state “I’m tired from last night. . . I’m just going to take a little nap.”
Completely disarmed.
When we came into town, I noticed that Mom had failed to put gas in her car, so we had to stop and get petrol at the local Jiffy Mart, and in so doing, I was able to call my brother and deliver this coded message:
“Hey, we’re at Jiffy getting gas. When we come in through the garage door, I want a big plate of cajun turkey waiting for me. . .” That means roughly: ‘we’re three minutes away, when I open the garage door remotely, make sure no one is standing in plain view so that when we round the corner of the kitchen, Mom and Dad have no idea we’re about to surprise the hell out of them.’
We walk in ’round the corner of the kitchen and the table is full of food and Dad is like ‘what is all this about? . . .’ We walk a little further and I’m waiting for the surprise and my Mom says ‘what’s happening, Michael? . . .’ Then finally, ‘Surprise!’ they all say, flanking us on the back of the route we’d just taken. I’ve put some photos below, describing a bit of the happenings and those pictured:
First, this was back in Seattle, leaving the day of the party. It was right before Christmas, so this lady on the piano was rocking out. Babies were dancing at her feet, planes flying, etc.
Beefed up on this meal from the Chinese place in Seatac. Biscuits, Gravy and Eggs: a precursor of things to soon come.
The Actual Moment of Suprise
This is what it looked like. I know, not all that fantastic, but that is what surprise moments can look like.
The Other Side of Suprise
Now that’s surprise! Or at least they’re holding it extra long for me to shoot one off of them.
Unbeknown to me, Ricky Clem, my dad’s good friend and his best man at the wedding, showed up with a whole boatload of photos my parents had long thought disappeared. Its great, ‘cuz now I can start working on those for their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
I should mention, my mom is 4′11″ so she’s super cute and buzzes around like a butterfly or bee or hummingbird: very fast like.
Here’s my dad. He’s very prone to get misty about sentimental things, so looking at these photos he starts recalling all the emotions he was having about the big day. Remembers his buddies saying ‘Fuzz (my dad’s nickname), there’s still time, man. . . I got a car running outside.’
My Dad with his Mom, my Grandmother, Nelle Pittman.
My Mom with her friends: (from left) Carolyn, Mom, Kay and Angie.
My Dad with Ricky Clem, his friend and essentially my Uncle and/or Godfather. I have NO IDEA why my dad has this crazy smile on his face. Looking at it now makes me think what a great set of chompers he’s got.
Dad in middle with my brother, Ben and I.
This is the damage I inflict on Cajun-fried Turkey Legs at Midnight, Central Standard Time.
This is the next morning. Dad doesn’t emerge until well after 10am. The dog, Lucy, is essentially ‘my sister’ and goes any and everywhere my Dad goes, unless they enforce strict ‘No Dogs Allowed’ rules. Though, in the South, a dog is a necessary accessory to every pickup truck.
Here’s Mom, the next morning. Notice the styling coffee mug with her name on it. Cordless phone in front her. . . that’s my Mom.
And this is Mom with my broheme, Ben.
And when I got back to Seattle, I gave Jenna this giant Golden Lollipop Tennis Racket. No, its really a splatter guard to protect her ceramic cooktop from my culinary genius I’m oft inclined to perform in the kitchen.
Okay, so I’m pooped. No mas. . . for now.
Heart,
Michael
Pouring it out for the Homies
Today Brugen and I got into the studio to bless it appropriately.
It wasn’t our usual blood-filled chalice faire or endless rows of tables stacked high with freshly slaughtered fish and game. Today it was Nestle Chocolate Milk, Michael-made Salmon Burgers and an impromptu portrait session that brought dead artists to their knees in heaven/hell/purgatory.
After all the sugar, Bill had a hard time focusing. He kept yelling, “Beam me up, Scotty. . .” apparently mistaking himself for Geordi LaForge after his recent completion of a project for the Experience Music Project/Science Fiction Museum at the Seattle Center here in Seattle.
All in all, it was good fun to hang with Bill. Peep the triptych below.
More always,
Mike