One In A Milion

Last night when I was working on compiling and editing the pics you can see right here www.planetkat.com/album.php/1125689970/Fotos, I finally realised I do actually have more and more pictures that belong together as they are part of the same family: I am slowly getting into variations of the same theme. Interesting. I start to like repetition so I return to places that I find intriguing so I can take shots of the same scenery but under different conditions. Also because I always discover new aspects about the same things. This is probably why I like to work with the same people again and again too.

For example Manu, my new housemate. He is turning (himself) into my new fave object. He loves to to play the drums and he loves to have his picture taken and he actually comes up to me with new ideas all the time. Both is perfect for me as he is an endless inspiration, sound wise and visually. I just go with the flow and do it. The same with Ceci. And when I take the chance of the moment and just run with it, it even goes beyond and I manage to capture those situations around me too. Some accidental vistas on the side that happen right next to my official photo shoot and that attract my attention for split seconds. It’s great when you know: The camera was there with you. These are the moments of completeness I am striving for.

Yeah. And... Microcosms. I dive into microcosms, sometimes. This usually happens in my house when I listen to Manu and Emilio chatting away about drum patterns and my mind doesn’t quite manage to catch up with the details of the conversation which is floating around the room. In moments like this I realise something which I really thoroughly enjoy: I like to be quiet and I like it when I don’t have to partake in conversations sometimes. In Germany, this situation would simply not occur—I would always feel inclined to say something. However, here I am free. The two boys talk about music while I drift into my own world. The world of details. The world of shapes. Colours. Shadows. Small world views. Of great visual beauty and simplicity. This is how all the window and bottle and tap “casa amarilla” pictures came about, for example. There are many of them, later I took some in black and white, exploring the interior of the house again, with different means.

I took some pics of Manu in his quarter too but they turned out too dark. I would like to blame my photo lab stating that they forgot I pushed the 100 ASA film to 200. This is because my camera is broken and I can’t go below 200 but am stuck with an arseful of 100 films. Fernando’s dad Eduardo, the photo lab man I always go to, doesn’t seem to stress himself much over the overall quality of my pics and sometimes I got some right on fuck ups, corroded chemicals all over the negative and stuff like this. He probably knows I don’t mind. He is right. I love the fuck ups.

The pics of Salon Berlin, a hairdresser slash bar where they cut my hair when I was totally drunk are a prime example. I love them so much! They are totally corroded and frazzy with big blotches of grainy colour stains. Incredible. I fell off my chair when I saw this. I took the pictures not knowing what to expect when I walked in there on a Wednesday. Fafa and Emilio dropped me off there when they went to practice with their band, their ensallo, and I went there to drink a beer. Jokingly mentioning I might cut my hair because I like Salon Berlin. I went there before, and I chatted with all the people in there because it’s very much like this. You can’t go there and not talk to anyone. It’s too intimous, and the people are loco. There was Flor again, the power lady, there was Christian, the hairdresser, and there was everyone else. I just fitted in fine.

Bouncing around with my heavy foreign energy that seems, sometimes, a little intimidating. And before I knew it, I had a new haircut. Christian just cut all the dry ends off and whatever was left over from some three-year-old highlights. I had my hair cut and the wet strands of my hair were hanging in front of my eyes. I was high from all the energy and all the beers we drank, deciding there and then I had to repay them the favour of cutting my hair for free with taking some pics of the freshly repainted location and stroke or making some collage for Flor because she was like my guide there. Christian was to spin some HipHop in a location called Milion and got ready for his set while I bounced off the walls taking a few corroded shots. After this we went on drinking in Milion, this super stylish town house which was turned into an almost decadently dandy restaurant bar exhibition place without going all too posh and stiff—nice garden included… No, decamping there out of your mind is just fine! The whole crew is somehow related to the Salon Berlin posse—the owner of Milion is Christian’s cousin, so it’s all just a bunch of fuckheads from the same family, and they welcomed me with open arms. Eventually, I flew off to meet up with Fafa and Emiio and the rest of the band Enriquez (more about them in the next chapter of the FOTO section) for dinner where I turned up a little alcoholised, hehe…

The last few of the corroded shots of the “fucked up selection” were taken in a train station and in the train to Once. Emilio and I returned from the airport where we renewed my freight papers, but before this, we had an argument that took it all out of us. No idea how it came about, but all of a sudden there was it again, the destructive energy beast rearing its ugly head. No talking, no happy conversation, just me and him with long faces. In this train that had seats that looked like sofas. Half of them were ripped out but the people just shoveled the parts into some position so they could sit on the pieces, which I found incredibly intriguing. We were travelling nowhere with no point of return. And there he was. This old guy in one of the sofa seats, the sun falling trough the dirty train windows. And then the way the picture turned out. Incredible. I love the way the guy stares into a void. The grainy void being a hole of chemicals eating the colours—chromatic glitches. When the train slid past some giant derelict factory that just seemed to cry out “Come here and set up a soundsystem right in the middle of the giant machine halls”, I was in heaven. The whole day was magic because it was so brutal. So violent. The colours were violent too. They seem to scream out the pain I felt, and they reflect the wonder when I realised there was something new growing again although we seemingly killed it all somehow. All was wrong but it felt so right. Hyperbright. Breaking into pieces. Emilio couldn’t go back to his work. He just couldn’t. He was just as destroyed. What were we doing to each other? We just didn’t have a concept.

Oh, and by the way, none of the pictures I handed in at the Inspire beer festival competition seemed to tickle the fancy of the jurors. I didn’t win anything except a free entry so we ended up queuing up yo get our accreditation which we needed to get into the tent where the competition took place with Mathew Jonson and Angel Molina being the two electronic music stars of the festival playing their stuff later that night. After one and a half hours in the queue we decided to ditch it and went for beer and pizza in Ugi’s, the cheapest pizza chain in town but also one of the best. Funnily enough this festival again proved to us this city needs something really fresh and innovative...


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