Please don’t tell me how to shoot. Thanks.
First-off, a few things that need to be stopped:
1. The widespread and very old Angelina Jolie fetish.
2. “Pwned.” Knock it off, or stay within the confines of Myspace.
3. Myspace. I left a comment on someone’s page, and when I refreshed my home page, I had thirty friend requests from fictitious chicks wanting to sell me XXX passwords. The only thing more useless than Myspace itself are the monkeys who designed it. Thanks for whoring me out to hordes of vicious spambots, you bastards. Tom should be stomped by Hell’s Angels.
I think that’s enough for now. Next order of business:
Don’t tell me how to shoot. Period. Unless you’re James Nachtwey; I’ll take all the constructive criticism he’s willing to offer, but until he calls (someday he’ll call), the rest of you stop sending me useless comments such as: You focused on the wrong spot; the background is too blurry; his face isn’t intense enough; you should have used a smaller aperture; and other shit along those lines. The photos are the way they are for a reason, and maybe if you took a little more time before piping up you would discover what that reason is.
Look, I’ve been doing this for damned near fifteen years. I may not be as famous as, say, the aforementioned Mr. Nachtwey, or David Hume Kennerly, but I can assure you that I know where I’m focusing, and if I post a photo to deviantART, or anywhere else, you can be damned sure that it isn’t one of the b-side rejects that I considered to be “good enough” to show to the world in my personal online portfolio.
If you’re so anxious to type something on your keyboard and prove you know everything about photography because you took that class at the local community college, this is your outlet. I’m sure there are more than a few groups there that meet your fancy.
I am a photojournalist. Therefore, most of the stuff I shoot is photojournalism. Know what that means? I don’t fucking pose people. Period. I’m sorry he was making the wrong face for you. Next time I’ll tell him to go back and score that touchdown again, and this time he’d better get it right (BTW, the face in question was perfect, which piques my curiosity about what these people are actually looking at when they start hitting the keys).
It’s not like this happens very often, but when it does it’s maddening. But, I don’t say anything because it’s rough to say, “Listen, fucko, I have a speech for you,” without sounding like a dick. Meh.
Maybe I should just admit to myself that sometimes it’s okay to be a dick. That would be fun.
Or, maybe when people have the desire to leave comments about my photos, they should concentrate on trying to decipher the meaning behind the image instead of finding new and annoying ways to sling around some stale photography advice that’s been bouncing around in their heads.
That’s so crazy it just… might…work.