#2: Something for Kate's drummer

[Olympus E500 Manual, ISO 400, 1/2500, f5.6 @ 300mm. (600mm @ 35mm equiv.)]

Animal was always my favourite Muppet.
I shot this on Australia Day, 2008, the day after the Sydney Big Day Out. I was with Zeb, Claire W, and Claire's sister Eloise, somewhere in Sydney's sort-of Rocks district, if memory serves (which, it frequently doesn't, please tell me if I was off course).
We'd spent the day wandering the city soaking in the Australia Day celebrations -- It was the BDO when Aussie flags and paraphernalia were banned, remember -- and stumbled on these live concerts at various locations. Amongst other acts, we saw Evermore and Something For Kate, this being a shot of Kate's drummer Clint Hyndman as he abused his skins.
Awesome set, not just because of the music, but because I had my Olympus E500 and 70-300mm lens on me. I'd just bought the lens that week, and had been frothing for a chance unleash its ponies.
Keep in mind we're talking Olympus here -- crop factor x2 -- that's a 600mm @ f5.6 at a rock concert, that I could swing one handed.
Now I lug around a Canon 300mm 2.8 at work most days, so you can go all glass snob on me if you'd like and say the Olympus is cheap rubbish, but you're wrong. For so many reasons, I love my $600 Olympus lens so much more than Canon's white-and-black technical triumph. Yes, the Canon is faster and cleaner and sharper than the Olympus. (If you can buy a camera to focus it.)
I won't argue -- but big glass like the Canon is like 12 times the size and 12 times the weight, (not to mention 12 times the cost). You can't get the shot if the lens it too heavy to carry, or to dear to afford. And how are you supposed to mosh with that on your shoulder, anyway?
In the un-cropped shot that I got a black shadow running down the right side, perhaps from a dude in the pit getting in the way, and at first I thought it spoiled the pic, but that black strip actually works brilliant when the pic is my Mac's background, as I can run my Dock and shortcuts etc in that dead space. Or, if you were a sub editor, you could run story text down there.
Conundrums like that make cropping that much harder for me, and I still struggle to get it right daily. (Just as my boss.)
As for the shot -- I darn well love it. Takes me back right away. And Clint's face packs emotion. If anything, I'd have liked it to be a bit sharper, but, then again, it's as least as sharp as anything ever taken on a Canon these days…

How could I have done it better?

--Ben

For Sean, the boss who warned me never to come back with just one...

I take a lot of pictures.
I'm not talking Jo McNally a lot of pictures, or Chase Jarvis, but I do probably reel through about 300 or so each day and maybe 50 or so most weekends off. Way more on holidays.
A lot just sit around on hard drives and memory cards. I'm not good at throwing things out. Trouble is, I just like the whole click thing too much.
It's fun, sure, but, for me, it's practice. My first editor Sean said you can't take a good picture if your don't bang the shutter, and the more you squeeze it the better your chances are.
He was right. And always will be.
But what to do with them?
Only so many make the paper. And only so many of them are the ones I'd like to see there.
I can't print them out and hang them because we rent our place and every extra hook in the wall is another nail in the coffin as far as our bond goes.
The best thing about getting published is that people comment on your pictures.
"That one's cool."
"That one sucks."
"Dude, that one's blurry."
All feedback good.
So, I'm going to try and throw one up here at Benography every day (or so) and, hopefully, some will give cause for you to react to them. Even if you just like them in facebook, or send a smiley face. And if you don't like it, please say so too.

Thankyou, and Happy New Year.

-- Ben

ABOUT THE SHOT: (Aperture priority, ISO 80, 1/250, f2.8 @ 60mm.)
Taken on my Panasonic Lx-3, in Oliver's bakery in Ulverstone, Tasmania. They do awesome mini sausage rolls there, and I've noticed this smartly-dressed gentleman in there a few times. I'd lined him up for a quick snap when this young person popped into frame as my finger went down.
Instantly, I liked the whole picture a whole lot more.
Do you?
What would have made it better?

Two Claires, a guy and an after party (Part Two) …

Two stories come to mind when I slide into this John Butler Trio scribble tee: The How-I-Got-It part, and the How-I-Didn't-Get-It part. Both make awesome memories and both take place in the second half of Year 12 ... that endless summer of 2003.

How-I-Didn't-Get-It part:

I could've kissed her.

Yep, for sure.

Really?

Yeah, I was in.

Really?

Well, you'll never know -- now.

This is what I hear in my head every so often when I pull out this old John Butler Trio T-shirt. (The other times, I'm thinking of the Claires, as you can read here.)

And no, it's not like a tear-me-up-inside fire of doubt that rages inside -- I'm very happily married to Laura, who is, without bias, the most beautiful and lovely carbon-based being in this galaxy and George Lucas's.

(Hear that, Princess Leia? Laura destroys you on the gorgeous-o-metre!)

The shirt just makes me slightly curious and a smudge wistful; like when I've nailed a front page photo and look at it the next morning and think, "what if I'd brought in another flash…"

I wouldn't change a thing if I had the power to … even if it would spare me the embarrassment of this story.

The place: Year 12 After Party, December '03, Captain Audrey Park club house.

The situation: My date had all but abandoned me as soon as I got her past the bouncer at the door (heartbreaker), but I was fast getting over it, because, against all odds, I'd found myself slow dancing with a rather lovely young lady.

For her sake, we'll rename her to, let's say, um Zany Redridge.

(On a totally unrelated point -- I think it's fun to rhyme, don't you?)

Zany Redridge. Yikes. Several years worth of history was coming to a head right at that moment.

She says, "hey, Ben? I like your shirt," and I almost pass out.

Is this really happening to me?

I'd had a crush on her since, like, the start of Year 11, and every now and then I reckoned she liked me a bit, too, but circumstances never led it anywhere.

You could define "unicorn" with her description, so 18-year-old me thought. (Fabled creature, impossible to capture: Gone in 60 Seconds.)

So we're dancing, and the music is slowing, and we're like really dancing, and my head's getting that fuzzy glow about it, and I'm hoping her's is too.

You'll agree that this was a pretty nice place for a teenager to be, right?

Right.

So why why, did I start listening to my stupid brain.

It says: "Ben, you should go check on your date."

No way. Not listening to that, says the rest of my body. Gonna stay right where I am. Nowhere I'd rather be.

Smart, right?

Right.

So my mouth says: "Hey Zany."

She smiles, eyes wide. "Hey Ben."

My mouth says: "I'm gonna check on my date."

And felt instantly like someone doused our cosy encounter with an icy spray from a firehouse.

"Oh--".

And that was that. Amy was gone.

Why'd I say that? Still don't know today.

Why did I blog this on the interweb and link it to facebook, knowing my mates will tease the crap out of me?

Part of it is 'cause my T-shirts thread me to memories that helped me grow as a person. That night, as I slow-danced into paralysis I learned what I hope any other teenage dude reading this will learn too.

After you read this, Teenage Dude, I want you to promise me something.

If you ever find yourself in the arms of a girl you'd been crushing all high school, don't think, just kiss her. Or at least try to.

Don't over brain it. Trust in your T-shirt.

But even if you bottle it, it's not so bad.

It may take a few years, but you'll meet a girl to love that is every bit as awesome to you as Laura is to me, and everything will turn out golden.

B--