Kylie
Home
From my recent trip back to Sydney over Christmas. It’s such a cliché, but it really does feel great to be a tourist in your own city.
Stacy
Stacy, my M52b28 powered BMW e30
Cinestill 800t
1/4 Pro-mist
Hasselblad 501c
Suburbia
Kodak Gold 200
Hasselblad 501c
Paige
Portra 800
Hasselblad 501c
Gundagai Motel
Gold 200
Hasselblad 501c
Ellie
GhettoScan_016
Kodak tri-x shot on Nikon F6 w/ 24-70mm 2.8g
Scanned using a glass coffee table, video light and Nikon D800 w/ 105mm 2.8 Micro Nikkor
Kansai in Medium Format
中判で関西
Travelling can be a daunting undertaking, especially when travelling non-English speaking countries.
While in Japan, I decided to challenge myself by only bringing one camera and lens to shoot all my personal and commissioned work. The camera I brought was a Hasselblad 500cm with an Zeiss 80mm prime. For those unfamiliar with the hasselblad, it’s a medium format film camera (hence the title) with no light meter auto rewind or any sought of technology that requires a battery. To challenge myself even more, I left my light meter (a magical contraption that tells you what settings to use on your camera) at home so all exposures were guesstimates by yours truely.
Below is a collection of unedited frames that did not make the cut for my print group. Note the x-ray damage, underexposure (intentional on some), rushed composition and poor sharpness that are present in most frames.
GhettoScan_015
I've always despised people who tag #tbt and find that all they are doing is finding a cover for them to bask in more attention and reminding people that they actually have an interesting life. That being said, I did encounter a photo today whilst archiving all of my 2015 photos that really deserves the throwback tag. This is a picture I took somewhere in the Fiordland National Park back in April last year. This picture speaks a thousand words for me because of the physical journey I went through to get this picture, but is most likely nothing more than some clouds and a heap of rock to the most of you.
Below is an excerpt from my journal
10/04/2015
0300
We were woken up by my stupidly loud alarm. We had gotten stupidly high off weed which had been gifted to us by a stranger in Wanaka a few days prior and I still felt a bit dopey. Vlad insisted that he did not feel a thing. Vlad and I had made the plan to trek 3 hours to Lake Marian to see the sunrise the night before after having a 5 minute chat with an old bloke at our campsite. He told us it was an easy walk and two young fit blokes like us would do fine. We forgot to tell him that we would be doing it in complete darkness in crappy gripless skate shoes and 12kgs worth of camera equipment; this was most likely due to the kush we smoked 15 mins before starting the conversation.
0345
We reach the start of the trail. The sound of the rapids close-by was deafening and scared me shitless, mainly because I couldn't actually see where the rapids was. We just realised that one of our headlamps is out of batteries and our other one underpowered. YOLO. We crossed the narrow suspension bridge and entered the forest.
0415
The trail starts to take us further away from the rapids. I didn’t see where the rapids were (cos darkness) but I could tell because the deafening sounds of the rapids were getting softer and softer. Starting to regret packing so much camera equipment.
0430
A fallen tree blocks the trail and the trail appears to fork off in two directions. Through my (nonexistant) years of bush navigation, I decide to follow the trail on the right. Reasoning? ‘the gaps between the trees looked bigger’
0445
We haven’t seen a footprint or trail marker in a while. Still going by the logic of ‘follow where the clearings are between the big trees’
0500
We are lost. I resort to blaming Vlad for being an idiot as it always seemed to make me feel a bit better about myself. It wasn’t working this time. We begin retracing our footsteps back to the fallen tree. I felt like I was in a Japanese horror movie about people who enter forests and are trapped in there forever. I suspect our lack of navigational prowess is a result of the events from the night before, still a tad bit dopey. Vlad insists that he didn't feel anything at all the night before.
0530
Back at the fallen tree. Let’s follow the other path.
0630
We reach a clearing and cross a river. Although we were in a valley, I could notice the sky getting brighter. I curse at Vlad because we are going to miss sunrise. the massive changes in elevation whilst on the trail took a toll on my legs. Especially climbing/jumping over massive tree roots
0700
Still walking through thick forestation. No sign of a lake whatsoever.
0730
Thanks for being such a tolerant travel companion
Don't smoke weed. I do not condone the use of illicit drugs.. Especially off strangers.
We aren't wimps, we are just two naive 19 year olds who thought bushwalking in New Zealand would be similar to going for a stroll at the local reserve back home.
Tamarama
GhettoScan_014
A recent shoot with Sydney rap duo X and Hype
Portra 160 shot on Nikon F6 w/ 85mm 1.4g
Scanned using a glass coffee table, video light and Nikon D800 w/ 105mm 2.8 Micro Nikkor
GhettoScan_013
My friend Vlad Trofimov and his exhibition at the Shh Centre 4 Hybrid Arts
If you live in Sydney and enjoy art, Vlad's exhibition is a must see
Kodak Colorplus 200 on Nikon F100 w /50mm F/1.4G
Scanned with MacDonald's cup with cutout, natural light and Sony a55 w/ reversed kit lens
Converted to B&W because ceebs colour correction
Finding your home - a personal journey
/həʊm/
noun
1. relating to the place where one lives, or a place where a person feels they belong
Home is somewhere you feel like you truely belong. The past years journeys of self discovery has provoked a lot of thought into where I belong. Sydney? Melbourne? New Zealand? If you asked me right now, I still wouldn’t be able to give you a decisive answer.
For a boy from the western suburbs of Sydney, a respectable job and ownership of a house is ultimate dream. We are taught from a young age how important it is to buy a home. Owning a home, although hard, is not impossible at my age; if you spend conservatively and save consistently, you will have enough for a deposit house/20 year burden.
So you buy a house, probably further out west than your parents currently live, you continue working you so-so job and you get hella high/pissed on the weekend for the next 5 years all while you continue paying off your home. During this whole time you’ve probably never even thought about whether your hometown is truely the place you want to settle down for the rest of your life; even if you do, you’ve already got too much long term commitments to go about your soul searching.
The common conception is that a respectable job and property ownership is what defines an individuals wealth. Although both are wholly true, the the community in which you acquire desirable no.1 & 2 is of utmost importance in my opinion. You can never reach your true potential in life without feeling truely at home.
How do you know you truely belong to a society if your current community is the only community you’ve lived in?
I do not plan on growing old only knowing what life was like in one corner of the world. I refuse to be sitting in a RSL 50 years from now on bingo night explaining to the youngsters about how the local shops looked so different in my time... That's so sad and totally not me lol
I hope I can answer all of my unanswered questions and share my journey with you in the coming weeks/months/years.
You can follow my pursuit of home through my photo journal
Featured
GhettoScan_012
Fuji Neopan on a Hasselblad 500cm w/ Zeiss Planar 80mm 2.8
Wet mounted and scanned with a circa 2001 flatbed scanner
Retouched in photoshop to remove unsightly grain
Ghettoscan_011
On the rooftop in Osaka CBD
Fuji Neopan shot on a Hasselblad 500cm w/ Zeiss Planar 80mm 2.8
Wet mounted and scanned with a circa 2001 flatbed scanner
GhettoScan_010
Tri-x shot on a Hasselblad 500cm
Wet mounted and scanned with a circa 2001 flatbed scanner
Boobs.
Every girls got em. Every guy wants em. Not every person understands them.
I recently did a nude shoot with a girl. She was charming and super professional about it, as was I. The next day, a friend walked in on me editing photos from said shoot and made a big fuss about it; I honestly didn't see what her problem was.
My explanation - Boobs are boobs; it's a collection of fat wrapped in skin. I do not see it as some sexualised object - it is a part of the female body and I don't see why an appreciation for the human form as a whole should be so hush hush. Topless women are so stigmatised and are seen as a form of pornography, whereas topless men can be found wandering the streets in summer. I try to keep my fine-art nudes as ‘tasteful’ and non-explicit as possible. It is only pornography if you make it pornography.
GhettoScan_009
Tri-x shot on a Hasselblad 500cm
Keeping this entry very ambiguous
GhettoScan_008
Ektar 100 shot on Kiev 88 w/ Zeiss Biometar 80mm 2.8
Scanned with an orthodontist's x-ray lightbox and DSLR with reversed 50mm lens