January 11, 2012

Christmas in Chernobyl

Two shots from the Krackerias Christmas festivities. Second shot looks like the leader. It is becoming increasingly clear that I need to drop my sight line of composition down a notch. Tilt the bod to compensate for parallax. It is interesting to be struggling with framing after a year of satisfactory shooting with the Kiev. Bizarre.

I am not happy with my 35mm camera stable at the moment (F3 in for repair) thus it is medium from here on in. That beast against my face is reassuring. High time to use my light meter. Guess work is expensive.

This morning my Kiev and I accompanied Syd Reimer to the weirdest place in Rosenort: Jake Horton's. I shot some weak portraits of farmers in hats. To the people who shoot, do you ever find yourself shooting just for the sake of stirring up the energy in a room? I was somewhat shy this morning and kept shooting in search of some sort of reaction or connection. Nada. Come to think of it, a man by the name of Don W did give me a hell of a profile. Usually I go for what I want when I see the opportunity. This morning was a funny lesson in photography. It was new to have a fistful of ideas but no connection. Very new to be ignored completely. Some exchanges must be earned at a slow pace with hard work and consistency.

Not all great portraits happen happenstance. D'accord.

Aunty Marj. She would have had those farmers lined up outside with their mugs, hats and shitty grins, the lot of them. Jake Horton's regulars. How did she do it! The thought What would Aunty Marj do? kept running through my head as I went from table to table. I am Megan Kroeker. Who? I am Cal Kroeker's daughter. Oh bah yo. I am Syd Reimer's granddaughter. Oh bah yo. Not enough. Tough crowd to crack. Only woman in the place. It was a very bizarre journalistic experience and I left without getting what I wanted. I have no choice but to become a regular. What a frightening thought.

More on that later.


  1. Holy shit. Perhaps it's because I'm three beers in on a Wednesday, but these words resonate with me like an old bow across a beat-up cello. Salty, sweet and vibrating with energy. I cannot believe that you entered the inner sanctum of Jake Horton's with photographic equipment. That's the real stuff right there -- if you didn't get it done, you need to go back. You also need a wide angle lens for a space like that, and the courage to use it (you probably do; I don't). The fact that you were there with Syd just ramps this right up to the stratosphere. I actually LOL'd (like for real) at your oh bah yos.

    Your aunt was a fucking force of nature. I was thinking about her today as I was chopping beets -- one of the last times I saw her, she revealed that they're tasty eaten raw. So I crunched a few in her honour. But yeah, a fucking force of nature.

  2. Oh man, O BAH YO. Haha.

    Funny thing is, two days ago when I was trying to summon courage to ask a couple of my neighbors for portraits, I kept asking myself 'What would Megan do? How does she do this?'

    I totally chickened out.