I’m going home for the holidays tonight. Maybe.
I kind of feel excited as if it’s turning into this huge journey.
I’d given myself the assignment of taking at least one photo a day. Having already completed the day’s objective with the image of my mother and I, my brother, Ben, egged me on to break out the gear for just one more assuring me it’d be well worth it. With that, I kicked the recliner back down into ‘useless’ mode and headed off for my bedroom.
Below is the room I grew up in from 6th grade on through my graduation from high school.
If these walls could talk. Seeing as how a lot of interesting things have gone down in there, guess multiple lights firing within its hallowed halls were really nothing out of the ordinary.
After I’d tested to make sure all was firing back in my crypt, I had a ball photographing my brother in all manners of pizza slice revelry.
No secret: I’ve been going bald since high school.
That said, I’ve always had a vision that my ideal haircut would incorporate this particular handicap into my favor. The vision is straight out of Mad Max, and if memory serves, I believe Tina Turner had this kind of doo in Thunderdome.
Below you’ll find the more refined manifestation of my vision. I lived with it for a matter of hours (with newly cropped facial hair design) but alas, I gave it up with the foresight to know that a place like Athens, Alabama isn’t ready for such a revolutionary utterance in hair sculpture.
Went fishing with the old man: the resident bassmaster in the family. He took me to all his favorite hot spots, but he was the only one on the fish.
In fact, I had just cast my line into the water to turn around to Dad reeling this one in. He feigned as if he was hung up and tried to play it off as if it were a stick. Truth be told, I think that had I just gone back to my own line, he might’ve just cut the line because he just can’t not catch fish. The man is that good.
In other news, Michael Clinard is the Son of a Biscuit Eater.
What was that you say? Coming Uppances? Are those even words?
Here on the Blog of Michael Clinard they are, and its my way of saying that I’ve got some big things on the horizon. Besides heading home for the holy days, seeing the family and tackling some portrait subjects down there in the Southland, I’m doing a conceptual Paul-Prudhomme-meet-E-40-in-the-kitchen photoshoot sometime in December (shout to my boy Fridge: big ups kid). Stay tuned for that.
The shot above is one from today and of my man ‘Jackson of Olympia.’ I say it like this as I was out at the Emerald City Gamefest photographing the enthusiastic attendees. Tonight as I review the film, I’m super excited by what I’m seeing. Many thanks to all who participated. I’ll soon have a bigger blog post about that in the coming days.
More always,
Mike
Either in studio or on location, you might have seen me stepping back and forth in place to some non-existent beat. Should one come within earshot, you might hear me repeating ‘step, step, rock step, step, step, rock step. . .’ and so on.
Sure this scene has caused a few to ask if I might have once been dependent on a walker: some daily exercise performed to keep me up on the all the cutting-edge advances in walking. Perhaps my mother pitched me out into the middle of a busy food court at 1 year old, and its some kind of traumatic flashback as my scampering baby-self desperately fled the clomping feet around me.
No my friends.
I practice the dark and sinful art of Swing Dancing. Some dig human sacrifice, others cast spells and curses. I prefer shaking my tail feathers to a snazzy old tune. In fact, it’ll be a year ago in January that I picked it up.
Here are my teachers: Sara, Maureen and Matt.
This is the super-awesome crew of Triple Step Studios, and I had the great pleasure of photographing them this morning in anticipation for a refresh of their website. After dancing them to death, they were plumb knackered, so I sat them down for a cool down portrait session.
Matt looking fly.
Sara looking rad.
Maureen looking snacky.
Brothers and Sisters. Sons and Daughters. Moms and Dads. Grandmas and Grandpas. Cats and Dogs. Earthworms and Beetles. Small birds and Eagles. Sharks and Little Fish. Sun and Moon. Wind and Water. Up and Down. This and That. All and None. . .
A new day has dawned. Barack Obama has won the 2008 Presidential Election! Four New Years!
To commemorate this historic event, I created this “Barack Obama wins the Presidential Election 2008 Pizza.”
Here are the ingredients:
*1 frozen Safeway Thin Crust Supreme Pizza
*10 minutes of plucking fresh thyme off the stems as I watched folks crying in joy over Barack’s win
*6 little slices of Yellow Pepper we got from Jenna’s Mom the other night
*3 Green Tomatoes from the Magnuson Pea Patch this lady gave us but sat long enough to turn red
*More Cheese (of course)
*Twenty twists worth of fresh ground pepper
*3 Pinches of Cayenne Pepper
*Some lump crab meat that I felt would be better served on a pizza rather than suffocating in a canister
*Dashes of Hope, Democracy and Change
To all my Southern folks lamenting over McCain’s coming up short. Don’t fret, your native son will be home for the Holidays to serve you a slice of this delicious new creation.
Nelle, 2009.
This is Nelle, my grandmother.
Shot while home in Athens.
I’ve had a few people egging me on to put this last one up.
As well as this one test, which was shot on the eve of my 30th birthday.
More always,
Mike