Here and there

Without further introduction, i give you what i think passes for the ideal family - adventurers:

http://poraquiporalla.com/

PS: for those of you who require English, just click on a page and paste it in Google translate. It should solve the problem quote effectively.

Jaguar Shoot

I assisted Ionut Macri on a shoot for One magazine with a brand new Jaguar some time ago. I found the "making of" pictures and decided to post them here. It was great fun really. It all lasted well past midnight.

We discovered that the fancy car had a video camera just over the rear license plate for parking and obviously took turns at photographing each other with it. That was the highlight of the evening. Enjoy.

Baccalaureate

Exam days have just started. My sister is finishing high school and has started what is the equivalent of the A Levels. Not related to anything really, just advertising. Wish her luck.

Mud, sweat and cheers

This weekend, like the one before, and like the one before that, we've gone to trek for the Transilvania Adventure Trophy. Broken bits and bobs, loads of fun and an extreme race for Open class and an impossible race for the Extreme class. We also stumbled upon a roman mine which we entered. Here's some pictures of the weekend.

Clara

New stuff

So i started thinking about my projects. Dissertation and final project and other such items. Need to get off my head to get a clear view of what i want to do, but for now, i started doing some portraits. I have a 20 square meters of 4x5 film, so i thought, what the hell, portraits. So i started picking out people, at our concerts and on the street and getting their numbers. Then i would drive them to some odd place and shoot them. Not literally, we only do that to minorities and people who disagree with our religious/political views.

Nevertheless, here's a few tests i did with the digital. The film ones will be put in a box and will be processed in September. This is quite interesting, because the expectancy is kinda killing me but the surprise is also fun. I guess.

The trains of David Lynch

This weekend we went to Deva to do some tracks for the race. It was a great weekend where i can honestly say i learned a lot of stuff starting with accurate roadbooks to changing the sensor on the trip master and driving a car without any transmission whatsoever.

Coming on the train, i didn't get a sleeping coach so almost nine hours, the trip from Deva to Bucharest with a huge frigging delay i had an upright seat. Who in their right mind would do that? Well, i shared the compartment with two truck drivers, a fat lady with a twisted ankle - the know-it-all kind of person - a confused girl that first lost her ticket then her glasses then her water bottle then her...whatever and ... surprise surprise... an eighty year old guy who was an ex Security (Ro. KGB) operative. So pretty much a useless waste of space.

Around three nobody could sleep - you'd need heavy horse tranquilizers to sleep there, really. The truck driver and me started talking about religion, Hegel and Kant - which was beyond the expected intellectual peak of the trip. Anyways, the train control people were selling beer and vodka and gypsies were drumming in the window pains in the background of us debating, later on the existence of God and the fact that i think if he exists, he does a lousy job. Odd, very very odd trip.

As it were

Good clip

Yeah, nothing much to write about.

About Men, with Charlie Brooker

Found this article in The Guardian today. Worth reading. Very true:

"Women - why aren't you running the world yet? Frankly I'm disappointed in you. Men are still far too dominant for their own good, and consequently we've made a testosterone-sodden pig's ear of just about everything: politics, the economy, religion, the environment ... you name it, it's in a gigantic man-wrought mess. The world's been one big dick-swinging contest, and we've caught our collective glans in a nearby desk fan. By rights we should be squealing for your help, but we're not, because we're too damn stupid and too damn proud. We swagger convincingly, and that's about it. And swaggering's fine for scraping by in primitive times, but the world we've built is altogether more complex now. We've got stock exchanges and nuclear warheads. It's too easy to swagger your way into big trouble without even realising. Well, we've had our turn. It's time for the Rise of the Ladies.

We don't need a few women in conspicuous positions of power scattered here and there - we need a 10-year prohibition on all forms of male power. Seriously: a decade in which men don't get to control anything, from the remote control upwards. Imagine the consequences. For one thing, there would be an instant and massive reduction in armed conflict around the globe. Sure, nations would routinely bitch about each other in secret (and with a new, hair-curling viciousness), but there'd be fewer intercontinental punch-ups and a far smaller bodycount.

The economy should clearly be run by women. City boys are dicks, plain and simple. Look at them. Listen to them. Consider the carnage of the past 10 years. What the hell were these idiots thinking? Even now they're still at it. In any sane world they'd all be herded into a shed and blasted with hoses until they promised to stop. Everything they say, think, do, watch, read and fill up their iPods with is awful. Even their girlfriends are awful. Straight women, reading this: if your partner is a city boy, leave him. Leave him now. Dump him with a text message, right this very second. It'll hurt for about six days, then your life will improve beyond measure. Sod that little number-swapping dick who dares call himself a man. Lob him in the shed with the other squeaking fakes and train the cold jets on the bastards. Shut the door and let them shiver.

Men love machines, because machines remind them of themselves. As a result, men quickly became very very good at building machines and then driving them round rather too quickly, shouting "Toot toot! Look at me in my brilliant car!" This was cute for a while, but the novelty's worn off now that the planet's teetering on the brink of becoming an inhospitable cinder. Please, women, for all our sakes: just lock us in a room with some Lego or something. I'm sorry, but we're just too bloody stupid to save the planet. Looks like you'll have to clean up our mess once again. Mankind's depending on you.

"This is all very well, but none too realistic," thinks the female reader. "Men aren't just going to hand over the reins that easily. I know what men are like. They're self-righteous and stubborn - just like women, but worse."

Oh, you. Pretty, silly you. We've got you brainwashed. See, that's what our incessant, ruinous swaggering was all about: pretending to be more complex and dangerous than we actually are. In truth your suspicions are correct: we're very, very simple. We're lazy and we like blowjobs. That's all there is to us. Literally: that's it. From Sir John Betjeman to Barack Obama, from Copernicus to Liam Gallagher. The core software we run on could fit in the memory of a digital watch circa 1985 without even scraping the sides.

And you know this, you women. You know this of course, but it's so dazzlingly obvious you actually doubt it's true. Most of my friends are women. I often find myself counselling them as they agonise for hours, trying to fathom what men are thinking, what men want. Yet no matter who they're talking about, or what the circumstance, from my perspective the answer always seems so glaringly basic it could be scratched on the back of a button. This one wants a shag. That one wants a biscuit. Every time: the butler did it.

The only mistake women make is crediting men with far more mystery than they're capable of. We're impulsive yet thuddingly predictable, and you'd better learn to love us for it because that's just about all we can muster. That's why we bollocksed the planet up. We didn't mean to. We're men, that's all.

And now, surely now, it's time for you to shunt us off the podium and take charge for a decade. If only as an experiment to see what happens. I for one welcome our titted overlords. Give us our toys and our daily bread and permit us to lie on the sofa for 10 whole years, like snoozy, spluttering pigs. We get to loll around contentedly, you get to save the world. Sound good? Do we have a deal? Well do we, you wonderful bitches?"

New summer rain

Summer time home is always great. Rained today and the block of flats i have called home all my life greeted me casually. Every time it rains, the stairwell gets a funny damp smell, like wet chalk on the blackboard*. Always seemed to bring me back to the days when we took shelter from the rain in the block and then went out to play with fresh mud - to our parents' eternal despair. I found some pictures from those days - my sister, mom, dad and me. The ages from 1 to about 7-8. Feels nice to look back on them and appreciate that my dad was so good in the darkroom :)








*ladies and gentlemen, that is the correct term: "BLACKboard". It's not racist, the board is actually black. Not writing board, not whiteboard or any other one. They made those words up.