Tuesday, 2 March 2010

When it rains, it pours!

Im angry. Im mad. Im pissed. Seriously. I have recently found out that another photography studio in my area has taken one of my ideas and run with it. Theyre even advertising it with girls that have been to one of the events I organized.

I was an idea that I couldn’t possibly patent so there was always a chance that someone would get wind of it and do it themselves but now it as actually happened Im mad. Really fucking mad.

I no longer have my photography studio which is, I guess, the underlying reason why I am so pissed off. Due to rising rent prices, an argument with my landlord about rain (long story. I shall explain), the beginning of a relentless recession and the tight fisted joe public who always want something for nothing, I closed my doors of the studio and went freelance once again. Im still doing weddings which are the bane of my existence but at least Im still behind the camera now and again. I miss my studio so much even though the roof leaked and it was freezing in winter, I miss the freedom and the creativity it gave me.

The argument with the landlord was because the roof was leaking. He refused to fix it saying and I quote “it only leaks when it rains one kind of rain”. See now please excuse me for my ignorance but I thought that there was only one type of rain. I thought rain just fell from the sky and got you wet but apparently there is more than one type and one of those types caused the roof to leak. Go figure! So because of this, when my lease ended, rather than renewing it and getting into the battle of the rain once again, I walked away, almost dry and with £10 000 worth of camera equipment that is now in storage (well most of it)

The announcement of a recession didn’t help. People did tighten their belts and we got less calls from people wanting me to do pictures in the studio. No point in having one when Im doing pictures out of it right? The people who were coming through the door became increasingly frustrating wanting ridiculous discounts, free prints and generally got on my nerves. I constantly found myself wanting to scream at them “ Im a business not a fucking charity”. I am a good photographer, scrap that, Im an excellent photographer and I do not rip people off. Maybe that’s why the studio on its own didn’t survive. One nationwide studio charges ridiculous prices for their photography and Im constantly hearing horror stories about what theyre asking for framed prints, so much so that I made a promise to myself and my customers when I opened my studio that I wouldn’t rip them off and there would be no hard sell but maybe that’s where I went wrong.

Finding a new place for my studio has been hard. Rents are high and I cant justfy setting up somewhere new right now. I havent ruled out that one day I will find the perfect place but until then I remain studio-less and constantly getting flyers through my door advertising other studios who have now cottoned on to one of the services I offered. Even though I know its completely irrational, I just feel like Im having my nose rubbed in it.

Sunday, 28 February 2010

You cant take it with you

If you buy into the whole "you go to heaven when you die" assuming that your spiritual being has no need for anything other than just "to exist" somewhere else...

What earthly pleasures will you miss??

I would miss 3 things and 3 things only.

1. Music

2. Food

3. Christmas

Thats it...no more, no less.

Thursday, 25 February 2010

Prophets of Doom

We all love a good disaster movie. We love the chaos and destruction. Even world events keep us glued to the television incase we miss the next juicy instalment. Whether we admit it out loud or not we all like and we cant help looking at the car crash. I have to say that even listening to the traffic reports and the school closures on a snowy morning gives me a sense of excitement.



We had four weeks, almost non stop over Christmas, of snow warnings and even back then the prophets of doom in the streets were working overtime telling us there was much more to come. That we would get hit hard by bad snow in February. When I first heard them I wondered if they had a crystal ball or maybe they were having mass premonitions. After all if the weather men cant accurately predict the weather from week to week then how does the girl in the supermarket know whats gonna happen in February?

As it happens, both she and her doom and gloom friends were almost right. We have had bad weather this month. The claim has been made that its been the worst in 30 years. It hasn’t, however been as bad as anyone claimed it would be. At least not here in the UK.

I met another prophet today. One of my neighbours, who isn’t prone to screaming “the end of the world is nigh” at the first snowflake, kindly informed me today that over the next two days we would be hit by the worst snow we’ve had in 30 years. Is this just a giant game of Chinese whispers which Ive been dragged into. Where are these people hearing this?

I have to say that it is snowing now. Well, its sleeting. A kind of sloppy snow that as soon as you walk in it or touch, it melts. When you go outside in it you come back in drenched, like you’ve just been out in a rain storm. I am dubious. Without looking at a weather report I am gonna predict (and I do have a crystal ball on my mantle) that it will be sleet and nothing but sleet over the next two days and it will melt as soon as the sun comes out tomorrow.

Maybe I should buy some skis just to be safe.

Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Throw away your television

My television screen is constantly covered with people who are famous for, well, nothing. Oh wait, no. I tell a lie. The woman who is on it at the moment slept with a famous footballer. She is famous for spreading her legs. Big whoop!

Why are the talent-less constantly being paraded in front of us and the talented hidden from view? If I see one more bimbo on my television who is the sister of the neighbour of the guy who married the girl who slept with singer from the band who had the number one download last week, I might just have to throw it out of the window.

Im blaming reality TV on me dropping at least three IQ points. (That sentence lone has to prove my point) I will not lie, I have enjoyed at least four out of the ten years of Big Brother but please don’t get me started on the fame hungry morons that have appeared on that show. They come out of the house with more makeup on than you would find in Boots (this applies to the men too) They take their clothes off for some trashy magazine who pay them more for the pictures that most people earn in a year then we are bombarded with appearances on morning talk shows, kiss and tell stories in just as trashy newspapers and our airwaves are polluted with a feeble attempt at a number one song. Please save me from the wannabe celeb.

Celebrity. I hate that word. They used to be called “famous”. Now, to me, celebrity describes a person who isn’t very talented, who is on the television for doing something that would embarrass most normal parents. What annoys me more is that young girls an boys admire these people. They look up to them an aspire to be like them. What is frustrating still is that these same young teens will shout and swear and curse at their parents, neighbours and complete strangers in the street and wont show an ounce of respect for any authority but they worship and idolize these so called celebrities just because they’re skinny and blonde and shagged half of the England football team or theyre wearing more bling (another word I hate) than Mr T, have a different gorgeous but brain dead girl on their arm every week and are paid a ridiculous amount of money for kicking a leather ball around a field.

Football seems to be a recurring theme amongst the celeb folk who frequent my TV. They’re either married to a footballer or they’re shagging one and you know that in six months time they will be in the headlines telling us that Mr Footballer is bad in bed and/or has been cheating on them with another woman. You’d think they would learn from footballers wives/girlfriends past (or wags as they are referred to) I mean, it is a universal law that if you play for a large football team and youre earning £20,000+ a week that you are allowed to act like an asshole and cheat on your significant other. For some reason these girls choose to forget that law when they get a diamond ring on their left hand. Maybe all that hairspray and make up gives them temporary amnesia.

What is this world coming to?

so here we go...

I have had many blogs online. Live Journal, myspace, to name a couple. Ive also have another on here but for the life in me kind find it or remember the email addy for it. So here I go again... fresh blog, fresh start, fresh thoughts.