Gallery
#1 holds examples of my most recent photography exhibit which ran through
November & December of 2011 at Lovejoy's Taproom & Brewery in
Austin, TX. In typical fashion, the local media completely ignored it
but the word of mouth attendance was quite successful. The images are
from 30+ years ago when men were still stupid, women were still pretty,
music was making people do unthinkable things, skating on cement was
still making folks wanna climb walls and fly, and a world of overlapping
possibilities was still eluding those who thought they had some kinda
fix on what was really happening in life.
Before
jumping full bore into the world of audio engineering and production,
I was a working photojournalist simply paying attention to stories happening
all around me. Most of these images have never been seen by the world
at large and I never had time to deal with the considerable task of
archiving them until the summer of 2011. These are full frame digital
scans made from the original 35mm negatives. None of them have been
changed, enhanced or "corrected" in any way—these are
the absolute raw images—and what you see here is merely the first
collection culled from about 20,000 such photos.
To
explain what you are viewing here:
The
"Hollywood version" of punk rock has taken itself way too
seriously and purports to convince the masses that such culture arose
miraculously from the ether of whatever so-called vacuum it was "victim"
to. As if an alternate Big Bang to infect the world with another smiling
screenplay or poorly done documentary on stylish hedonism. As if anyone
needs such entertainment. Sorry, but... no.
Having
lived through the glorified 60s, the dreaded 70s and the subsequent
what-the-fuck decades, I've realized that all time spawns all time.
Ask Steven Hawking. Ask Willie Nelson. Ask Groucho Marx. Ask John Coltrane
or any other visionary who had the good sense to throw off the chains
of the past and charge boldly into the NOW of existence. Progress always
involves slogging through some fertile mud and, when the mud finally
hardens, a few feeble steps allow a slow forward march. There is usually
a lot going on in a mundane world; things that are never considered,
or are never seen when the spotlight operators pick their targets and
focus on that which they deem important.
To
wit: Sometimes History, with all its best intentions, is written
by the losers.
The
late 70s South Bay/SST punk gestalt was exemplary. It had no other choice
but to move forward from where it was. The alternative was to wither
away in a post-Vietnam War, Disco complacency of glamorous expectations
but somehow we were inadvisably prone to not follow that path. It really
didn't make a damn bit of sense and none of us could sum up why. For
better or worse, we plodded ahead not caring who the hell believed in
us or who the hell didn't. Life had already taught us to depend upon
our own sensibilities and whoever gave us the old Rodney Dangerfield
thumb-and-forefinger "OK." Regardless of little pink houses,
we all have our American Dream. And, to quote Mike Watt, "Dreams
are free, motherfucker!"
—SPOT
POSTED:
MAY 1, 2012
contact:
spot@spotinator.com