A Towering Workload.

Watched a documentary the other day, on the scientific theory concerning parallel universes. The big debate seemed to revolve around the possibility of an 11th dimension... I reckon once you get past 4, then there has to be at least a THIRD end of the candle to burn; 'cos I've certainly been buring it at "both". The SlashDogs have early prep-work of their new promo shots to see on their site; somebody certainly put some extra sugar in their coffee, and they are going to be a band to watch this year. Likwise Fokofpolisiekar who, despite their setbacks regarding their drummer's injury, are currently in the studio prepping their next single, and the run-up to their next album. You can check out their in-studio diary, with my pics, here. Also, there's a wealth of work to come out soon in Session Magazine, concerning the Familia tour... that'll be on the shelves next month.

But as the rain rolls in AGAIN, I have to say that what I've really been feeling of late is my work from Soweto. I saw it as a chance to get back to my "roots", such as they are, formed from working with documentary photographers like Omar Badsha and those at South Photographs, and trying to turn my journalism degree towards a career in political reporting. That said, I also saw it as a bit of a break from shooting youth culture and, more specifically, music and entertainment within youth culture. How odd then that my favourite work from my recent time in Soweto should be these two shots. Not a militant youth group, as one might surmise from the camouflage, but a dance troupe, preforming in a competition held in a community hall, at the foot of Oppenheimer Tower in Jabulani.

More to come.

Later.

The Dark Fear.

Anyone who knows the background of The SlashDogs will know why last night was a blast for me... my last gig with the band was early November, and since then they have been hard at work, rehearsing with new bassist Hugh, making a video, and prepping for 2006. Last night saw the launch of "The Darkest Fear", and the second gig for the band since I left... though the first "official" one. It was grand to finally try and capture on film what I always saw from my spot on stage... great show guys.

Lucky gets into the swing of things... pity the front row.






Picking up speed, with new bassist Hugh on top form.






The Reverend lets loose...







And now it's all out of control.







Likewise.







Great show.

Later.

Praise The Lawd!

... I'm back. For a few days there, I had no access to my blog, and I gather no-one else had. It seems to be sorted now. In relation to the image on the left, I will soon be making available the shots of The Most Amazing Show, the whole behind the scenes piece that I shot. Stage Magazine have selected portraits only for their story on Corne & Twakkie, whch you'll be able to see on shelves April/May. I'm stoked with what they have chosen, though it's not my usual way of working... we'll see how it goes. In any case, I have a huge body of work on the show itself, and I am interested to hear what fans of the two think of it, so here is as good a place as any to showcase it. More to come.

On another note... you may or may not have heard what happened to this guy. You may or may not have laughed. I'll be going to visit him in hospital today. Will let you know about that ASAP...

Later.

In Die Pad Val.

Usually, the title of this post serves as an Afrikaans expression, in a figurative sense. In English, it would mean the same as "to hit the road". In this case, it translates to pretty much the same in a literal sense... especially when one hits the road at 70 km/h.

Snake seems to be doing alright, for the most part. The nurses love him, he's the only one in his ward with a TV remote, his brother drops by often, and he has a pile of Hunter S. Thompson books to wade through. He even has a brush (branded "Pretty Woman") to take care of his hair. You think bed head can get unruly, try hospital bed head. But yeah; otherwise alright. His arm, on the other hand, is stuffed. Clean break at the elbow, and more roasties than a cub scout braai. Email your "get well"s here if you have any (I'm sure the band will get them to him) and remember... don't get out of moving cars.

Later.

Mud, Sweat & Tears.

Last night of the Tuks Jool, at least as far as the live bands go. Pouring with rain at times, sodden with mud the rest. But you gotta love Jool... it's all about the crowd:

Fans start to gather for the live bands.






Few can work them like Hanu, of The Narrow.






Wynand of Fokofpolisiekar gets the crowd cheering for Snake, the drummer...





... and then psyches them up again later, with the help of Francois.





Worn out, three songs to go.








All told though, it was a night of disasters for me. Long story about Soweto, early today, which will come later. But during the course of the night; my Palm died, my booster cut out power to my camera, my portable drive refused to backup my CF cards, and by pure fluke my camera wiped clean one of my cards while I was discarding images to make space for later bands.

I lost almost all my shots of The Narrow. This meant I had to skip Skwatta Kamp, whom I really wanted to see.

Then, I got a pounding headache, realised I had forgotten my earplugs, and somehow failed to see in colour for Fokofpolisiekar... so I switched to black & white for the rest of the night.

Now I'm cleaning mud off everything and hating the world. Well, not everyone. Thanks to Annelie (and Carel and Misha) of Oppikoppi, who organised the event and got me in after a hurried phone call from Soweto.

Later.

Believe It, Because It's True!

This one's for Veronica. There is sooo much more to come on my time spent on the set of The Most Amazing Show... but I am swamped for now. Been shooting in Soweto... return there with sunrise tomorrow. Hopefully. It's been a long night already. Am now going to try for sleep. Will try not to dream of trying to find Joe Slovo's grave among the many...

Later.

How Close?

How close can I get before it's intrusive? Every time I think I fade into the background, I see other's whose presence is just that. How easy is it to just be there? To get moments from a daily life that don't look like out-takes from a fashion shoot?

Twakkie, during rehearsals on the set of The Most Amazing Show. 28 Jan 2006.





Inge, of Lark, on the set of The Most Amazing Show. 28 Jan 2006.





Wynand and Pini. Last days in the Durbanville house, 23 Jan 2006.







Mere doucumentary. Later.

Two Years Ago, Today.

About four in the morning, two years ago today, I made this photograph. Brigid Niamh Lynch, just a few minutes old, weighing 3,11 kg. Ingrid had gone through labour like a hot wife through butter, and the doctor that delivered our daughter didn't even have time to get into her scrubs. I was having a hell of a time shooting the birth; I'd gone old school a few months before, and was only using Canon T-90's, with old FD lenses... all manual. We were short a nurse, which means I was filling in as a brace of sorts for Ingrid, leaving me to shoot with one hand. Not easy, trying to fix focus with the little finger of your right hand, while having all the bones broken in your left. To make it worse, the nurse was shocked that I was shooting the birth (what century are we living in?) and then had a heart attack when both the doctor and my wife screamed at her "It's what he does!"

So today, we picked her up early from the nursery school, and spent some time with her ourselves... we'd planned a trip to the zoo, but the weather was looking a bit dodgy. Great thing is, when you're two years old, chock full of sugar and wearing a paper verjaarsdag crown that your teacher made, a "pink" milkshake is still a great substitute for a trip to the heffalumps. While at the Wimpy, her malt shoppe of choice, I got to make this next photograph: three generations of Lynch females, my Mom on the left. On Sunday, there'll be a family get together, and then the matriach of the family will be in attendence, the last of my grandparents, Isabel Lynch... otherwise know as Oumie. It's moments like this, that make me realise how fast time passes. It's a terrible cliche, but it does, and being a photographer seems to be the only means I have of understanding this... or even coping.

As it is, we were talking about what age I was when I first had a large party on my birthday... turns out I was three. My Mom told me how my Da had made a cake, a helicopter nogal; I must have been obsessed with them even then. I remembered it being chocolate, with brown icing and white piping. Ingrid was impressed that my memory went that far back, but what I actually remembered was the family album... never knock the value of a happy snap! They sometimes outweigh all the magazine and bookcovers in terms of personal value.

Later.