TEDxBucharest

See, i usually sleep very well. I very rarely have any problems with this. But last night, i managed to sleep for 2 hours and spend the rest staring at the pillow, hoping for something interesting to happen. I am still trying to figure out if it's due to the excitement of being a part of TEDx, which is something fairly interesting in itself, or just some messed up underlying reason. I love TEDx, but the second option seems more plausible ...

We are all capable of horrible things if put in the situation

I just got my Mac stolen yesterday. I have never been so angry in my life. We were on our first day of the two week trip which went horribly wrong. I got my Macbook and 30 cyanotypes stolen and my friend Bogdan has absolutely no clothes left. Along with my Mac the fucking imbeciles also took random stuff like: an elastic wrap for joint problems, napkins, a box of fuses, an elastic cable and some other shit.

On the way back, Bogdan and i wondered: "What would we do if we caught them?". This post is about contemplating that question.

The only verdict is vengeance and if i had the chance, i would mutilate the person without the least bit of humanity. It's the circle of life and, if push comes to shove, he'll be at the losing end of it all. One of the things i appreciate about Arabs is that they cut the thief's hands off, if convicted. Simple, yet so efficient.

To my own thief: pray to whatever deity you pray to that we don't meet - the savage beating you will get will be an unforgettable experience.

Last Stand

Yeah, we're coming. And i am considering giving some people a piece of my mind that day, just for the sake of ruining the day. See you there.

Despre frica de a zbura si alte lucruri distractive

Sunt destul de putine lucruri care au posibilitatea de a ma face sa tresar sau sa ma sperii. Cine a zburat cu Wizzair mana sus! Sau orice lowcost care pleaca din Bucuresti, de fapt. Ne tutuim acum, cum ar zice Doamna Georgescu. Hai, ridicati mana in fata monitorului, sa va vad.

Punctul intai: Retardatii nostri de zi cu zi

Tu ai vazut imbecilii din avion? Nu ti s-a intamplat sa vrei sa le iei gentile mari, de cretini, pline cu cacaturi si sa li le faci guler? Ce pizda ma-sii poate sa fie atat de important incat sa trebuiasca sa il tii in brate tot drumul? Si de obicei zborurile din cauza asta intarzie. Nu intra bagajele in compartiment. E logic, pentru ca da-o dracu’ de treaba nici nu sunt facute sa intre! Sunteti niste cretini.

Punctul doi: Viteza de imbarcare

Am zburat mult mult mult mai mult decat mi-am dorit vreodata sa o fac. Si de fiecare data cand zbor din sau in Romania, pe Baneasa, toti se inghesuie. Unde credeti ca ajungeti? Voi sunteti chiar in acest ultimul hal de hapsani si nechibzuiti? Avionul tot ala este. Tot acolo ajungi. Si dupa research destul de amanuntit am descoperit ca daca avionul va cadea o sa se aleaga fix praful de tine si de tot neamul tau de papagali indiferent unde stai. Pentru ca zburam toti cu 800 de kilometri la ora fix cu picioarele inainte. Si daca ai aruncat vreodata un ou pe jos, iti dai seama care e mecanica actiunii de a ateriza vertical in camp.Pur si simplu o sa iti vezi creierul cu o miime de secunda inaintea mea. Well done.

Punctul trei: Aparate electronice si oameni importanti

Eu sunt ceea ce se numeste egocentrist. Si nu oricum. Grav. Sunt constient ca uneori cred ca sunt fix buricul pamantului cand de fapt acest lucru nu poate fi mai departe de adevar. Dar citesc, scriu cu stiloul si articulez cuvintele. Si incerc, pe cat posibil sa nu par mai mult decat sunt. Dar cred uneori, cand vad coada de boi si vaci de la imbarcare ca noi, ca si natie (cuvant pe care il foloseste mult bunica) avem o problema. Trebuie sa aratam cat de buni suntem si cat de tari suntem si cat o avem de lunga. Tricuourile Versase si ceasurile Dolce&Cabanna sunt la ordinea zilei. Dar uneori, doar uneori, activitatea asta de hranire a unui ego dureros de subdezvoltat nu face bine. Zic asta doar pentru avioane. Ce faceti in timpul liber este fix problema voastra – doar ca ne faceti pe noi astialalti de cacat in afara granitelor – in rest fiecare cu a ma-sii. Dar cand vorbesti la telefon in momentul in care avionul accelereaza te rog, mai mult decat orice, sa iei in considerare faptul ca s-ar putea sa stau langa tine. Si daca stau, cum s-a intamplat de data asta, o sa te rog frumos sa inchizi. Iar daca nu o faci am sa te bat fara cel mai elementar simt de vinovatie sau umanitate si am sa iti fac lucruri ce poate te-ar face sa transpiri doar daca ti le imaginezi. Lucruri cu obiecte pe care oamenii din Evul Mediu nici nu le-ar putea concepe. Poate le-ar cam concepe si ei ca fiind inumane. Cred ca poate, ca si cu votatul, oamenii care au voie sa zboare cu avionul ar trebui sa fie alesi dupa IQ. Nu m-ar deranja sa mi se spuna ca nu sunt destul de inteligent ca sa fac unele lucruri. Pentru ca stiu ca nu sunt. Dar daca pot sa minimez sansele sa se intample ceva rau, prefer sa o fac si sa te elimin din start. Vorba tatalui meu “Mai bine sa planga ma-ta decat mama”.

Punctul patru: Explicatia finala

De ce scriu? Pentru ca mi-a fost si imi va fi incredibil de frica de avioane intotdeauna. La decolare si la aterizare am sa strang mereu un aparat de fotografiat in mana pentru ca am citit ca 80% din accidente cam atunci se intampla. De asemenea am citit ca un card CF a supravietuit intr-un aparat peste care a fost declansata o explozie si ulterior a cazut o cladire. Si daca se intampla sa ne facem fix praf, unul din cardurile aparatului o sa ramana intact. Corpul este din magneziu si inregistrez intotdeauna simultan doar ca si precautie. E un gand cel putin sinistru, acela ca fotografiile care ma fac celebru sa fie cele miscate, cu un avion in flacari. Dar hey, nici Robert Capa nu si-a planuit foarte bine treburile.

Realizez acum ca mica mea scrisoare plina de frustrari si frici nu o sa fie niciodata citita de maimutele care ma inconjoara in avion. O sa fie citita de oameni cu carte, cei cativa pentru care blogul meu este o sursa de fotografii sau oarecare amuzament. Si cred ca poate ar fi cazul sa imi cer scuze. Dar, daca ati ajuns pana aici v-ati asumat constient faptul ca mizeriile pe care le scriu din cand in cand sunt cel putin incoerente si ……. (a se completa de catre cititor).

Midnight fun

Note to self

Master key - Lousy lock.

Wrong. Wronger. Wrongerer

Presedinti si senzatii

In perioada alegerilor ziarele se vand ca painea calda. Si ce vinde mai bine in Romania decat senzationalul? Avand in vedere ca prin intermediul blog-ului am fost contactat de cativa jurnalisti de mare calibru, Ovidiu Zara si Madalina Prudea intre altii, va aduc la cunostinta faptul ca scandalurile cu Dl. Traian Basescu nu ma preocupa. Imaginile semnate de mine din campania 2004 nu arata presedintele lovind vreun personaj.

Pe de alta parte, cu doar foarte putina obiectivitate ati realiza ca este inadmisibil pentru un candidat la presedentie sa faca un asemenea gest, in special in public, in fata a zeci de camere si mii de oameni - si deci foarte probabil imposibil. Nu e o acoperire guvernamentala - pur si simplu evenimentul nu a avut loc. Nu gasiti ca este o coincidenta ciudata faptul ca a reaparut dupa 4 ani acest video, intr-un singur loc, la o calitate proasta si dintr-un singur unghi?

Domnule Zara - ce aveti de impartit cu presedintele nu este problema mea, cum nu este nimic din ce se intampla in politica. Inteleg ca vreti sa publicati articole senzationale, dar aparent articolele cu teme inteligente sunt mai bine vazute. Pentru o clarificare, va rog frumos sa lecturati motto-ul propriului Dumneavoastra blog. Poate ati uitat de ce sunteti jurnaist.

Doamna/Domnisoara Prundea - "nu vrei sa afle lumea adevarul? lasi un om ca el sa ne conduca?". Presa este, din ce stiu, o putere in stat. Daca ati aborda subiecte mai importante si/sau interesante, poate ati reusi sa faceti o schimbare adevarata.

Cand a fost ultima data cand ati publicat un articol despre proiectul de transport ecologic de la Londra, actiunile Greenpeace sau expozitia Titian de la Luvru?

Stiu, stiu, doriti sa aratati adevarata fata a tiranului care ne va conduce sau nu in urmatorii ani. Nu va faceti griji - daca la Facultatea de Drept se puteau cumpara voturi pro-Basescu la 50 de lei, la Gara daca nu ma insel se practica aceeasi metoda pro-Geoana.

Cred ca ar fi bine sa va revizuiti pozitia ca jurnalisti integri si obiectivi si sa va dati seama ca aceste stiri de senzatie ar trebui pastrate in gunoiul ce se intituleaza "Libertatea". Ultima data cand am verificat, EVZ avea niste oarecare standarde, dar observ ca se muleaza destul de bine pe segmentul de piata ocupat de publicatia mentionata anterior.

Arhiva de articole si imagini publicate de mine pe care o detine (ilegal de altfel - conform contractului au dreptul sa imi foloseasca materialele pe o perioada de 3 ani, dupa care intervine dreptul de autor - alt mit urban in spatiul mioritic din ce imi dau eu seama) nu va face obiectul nici unor discutii sau dezbateri pro sau contra Traian Basescu. Va rog frumos sa nu ma mai contactati pentru detalii sau marturisiri senzationale pentru ca ele nu vor avea loc. Apucati-va sa scrieti articole mai cu cap, lasand la o parte vedetele de carton, stirile bomba si masinile de lux. Romania merita jurnalisti mai buni decat voi.

Cu stima,
Radu Tudoroiu

Photography, terrorists and idiots

Here's something Denisa sent me today. It's apparently becoming more and more annoying and police are just as useless as ever. We've had some pretty suspicious encounters with police where we were asked about cameras but seeing that we're photography students, we got of easier.

Still, who the hell do you think would take a medium format film camera to a surveillance shoot? What kind of Ansel Adams - infatuated terrorist do you really think exist in that country?

Important note to the police: THE TERRORISTS USE SILVER SONY CAMERAS AND ARE DISGUISED AS CHINESE TOURISTS. I SAW ONE PUT HIS MASK ON.

Now, the article:


Brit photographer who shot demolition of flyover arrested for terrorism



Alex took his camera out to photograph the demolition of a flyover (overpass) in Chatham, England. After refusing to give his identification to two plainclothes people who refused to identify themselves, he was arrested under Section 44 of the Terrorism Act (he did explain to the police and the mystery plainclothes people why he was there and what he had photographed, which is more than I would have done). The police officer put him in cuffs and led him down his town's main road and locked him in a police van. Once in the van, he was questioned about his views on terrorism. Later, a policewoman who said that he had caught her in one of his shots felt "intimidated" by him because he was tall (implying, I suppose, that he wouldn't have been arrested if he was shorter -- terrorists take note). Alex has complained to the police Professional Standards Department:


I believe the way I was treated was unjustified and wholly disproportionate. I assert that officer xxxxx misused her powers of arrest and demonstrated a poor understanding of the law in relation to arrest, the use of force, the use of detention, photography in public places, obstruction and the Prevention of Terrorism Act 2000. Furthermore I assert that officer xxxxx is unsuitable to act as a police officer or at the very least requires further training if she is intimidated by a male of an unremarkable stature taking a single picture with a camera pointed in her direction. I assert that officer xxxxx failed to follow the correct procedures when conducting his search of me and perpetuated the use of unreasonable force by refusing to release me from handcuffs. I assert that PCSO xxxxx demonstrated an unacceptable attitude by making a veiled threat towards me in relation to my future activities as an amateur photographer. I seek for these matters to be fully investigated, the process and outcomes of which I request to be shared with me. With regards to redress I seek a written apology in relation to any shortfalls identified with regards to the involved officer's conduct and consideration of compensation to be made to me for the upset, embarrassment and psychological trauma caused. I would also like Kent and Medway Police to liaise with Medway Council in order to identify the two unidentified men that initially stopped and questioned me. I seek for their conduct to also be fully investigated, the process and outcomes of which I request to be shared with me.

Brilliant cartoon

Religion

Today is a sad day in the history of humanity. hypocrisy has reached new levels.

http://www.cafepress.com/objectivemin.50869699

Idiots.

Sunday Morning

Yesterday i was loading the film for the trip and put a book on the lens of the camera obscura (yeah - it's still on). I woke up in the morning and opened my eyes in complete pitch black. Something smelled fishy for a moment. Couldn't figure out what didn't seem right but the it hit me... oh yeah. and again... we had houses on the walls.

And somehow i got out of bed, all stiff and cold, thinking about this song.

And i remembered that the night before i left two notes for my housemates downstairs. The first one regarded one of the leaving their socks on the stairs, right in front of the door. How fucking wrong is that. the reply was: "i agree it's not nice, but the stairs would be better if somebody hoovered them". We did. I did. We do. I did.

Second note regarded a small fucked up bed thingy. the ones that you have the lamp on, at the side of your bed. And glasses. And condoms. Might have gone too far there. Still. If you remember the exhibition series, with the falling tv, it's the thing that the tv was falling off. Well, after staying outside since the exhibition (it's been some months, hasn't it?), come rain come shine, one of my housemates decided it's a good idea to take it in the house. It might come in handy.

YES IT MIGHT. IF YOU WANT TO HANG YOURSELF AND NOT SURE IF A CHAIR WILL HOLD YOUR WEIGHT. SO YOU CHOOSE SOMETHING MORE STURDY.

Apart from this, which is really rather dirty, although the person said it had been cleaned, we have a 1970's radio - you know the kind: grey, with two old speakers, with yellow light at the tuning band. the one senile grandmothers listen to - three broken bicycles, 2-3 copies of famous paintings - but not the proper ones, the ones with fucked up frames and wrinkled paper, from that much raining outside - and various other useless shit.

All these items, combined with the regime - not keeping the living room radiator on because it's consuming energy (NO, IT'S MAKING THE FUCKING HOUSE WARM), closing all lights at all times (LOVELY TO LIVE IN A CAVE, RIGHT?), not taking baths because it's too much water spent (I PROBABLY AM THE ONLY ONE WHO ACTUALLY TOOK A BATH - SHOWERS SUCK), and the overall low cost way of living bring us back to...

C O M M U N I S M

Your parents fought for freedom of opinion, for rights and Bob Dylan records. They fought for the abolition of food coupons and KGB/Securitate/Whatever the fuck kind of agency other pitiful countries in the ex-soviet block had. And for what? For bad music, imbecilization of the people and lowering your standards beyond anything communism WAS EVER ABLE TO DO. By choice. Are you fucking kidding me?

People who try to raise the standard of living are not prodigal sons. 2 jars of Uncle Ben's for £2 are not much different than 2 jars of Uncle Ben for £1,60. Imagine that is divided by four. IT'S 10 FUCKING PENNY. You've become so concerned with gathering 10 penny from there, 10 from there that you forgot about the fun of being a student. It's wasting. It's living life. you're like 50 year old people in 20 year old lives. Not even that. My dad is 50, he viciously outranks you at being fun.

This discussion will go on and on and on. But i finish it here, benevolently, stating that my room is Monarchy. I am the Monarch. The radiator will stay on even if i am away because i pay my share of the utilities and don't give a fuck about what you do with your share. Light will be on whenever i feel like it. Because i have a light bulb. Classic.

Reaction

I went to uni, as i usually do, without the hope that something very very interesting will happen. It seems that when you least expect it, that's when things really get going. But enough confusion. Let's explain.

So i step into the digi lab, and, on the computer closest to the right, there was a fat girl. And by fat i don't mean "Run fat boy, run" fat. I mean "Horton hears a who", Horton-size-fat. 17 stones. And a half. She was a gracious combination of Little Miss Sunshine and the kid from The Omen, which probably warranted that she didn't get the shit beaten out of her in grammar school.

So this chubby little hamburgler presented a horrid expression. The face that, if you remember the movie "The Shining", the wife has when she goes through Jack Nicholson's papers and sees what's written there. I passed as if nothing happened and, as i did, i turned my head to see what bestiality-gay-horse-deep-throat- sex scene from her favorite movie was she watching.

For a moment i was silent and then i felt a sudden urge to burst out and laugh hysterically. She was reading my blog:) I left it in the menu bar and it was still there. Her curiosity overwhelmed her.

So yeah.

Winter as a state of crisis

Well the title says it all. I never thought i'd live to see the day. People panicked throughout the country as schools (and here i mean our uni as well) have shut their gates fearing the worst. It was at this particular point in time i understood what being accustomed to some things means but also what the introduction of unfamiliar factors create. Chaos. Confusion. (wish i had another word with "c") Fun.

And now, after establishing my position regarding these events, let me explain the situation:

Sunday morning, a strange phenomena occurred throughout the south and center of the island i presently inhabit. For some, who have witnessed it before, it's known as snow and comes as a logical effect of low temperature. It's treated with tea, snow tires and sledges.

The Brits have closed everything down, and i mean fucking everything - trains, planes and automobiles. Well the concept of snow tires seemed quite distant and i took a great deal of pleasure in watching 4x4 owners waltz by ordinary mortals in Fiat Pandas ( who, as a rule of thumb, were the ones protesting against 4x4's ) that have produced or became involved in accidents. Our street had two or three and it's not even that circulated. Haven't been that much excitement on the street since ... well never really. It was all beautiful. The chaos and confusion and broken bums. Not to mention the chav chicks who didn't really figure out it's -5 degrees until they were too far away to get more clothes.

Now seeing this from another perspective, it might seem a bit daft. The snow that caused so much panic and the stopping of trains and whatever else didn't even cover my shoes. It consisted of a grand total of -4 to -5 degrees and about 5 to 7 centimeters of snow, at it's peak. Back home we call that October. A national crisis starts to present itself after 2 weeks of intensive snowing, 2 meters of snow outside your house and a minimum of -25. A crisis at -20 is a waste of money. And speaking of this particular waste, London alone lost 100 million pounds because of this crisis and the fact that it became virtually impossible for people to come to the office. Need some sort of transport don't you?

As a conclusion, every day i am alive comes as a confirmation of a well known fact. Most people that inhabit the planet are idiots. Winter used to be fun. Snowmen. Snow fights (for which i thank Tony and Nelda, although i am deeply saddened by the fact that i missed Tony's windshield). Ice. Going down a slope on a sledge. Stuff like that. Instead of reminding ourselves of a happy childhood, we torment ourselves in an inexistent state of crisis. How terribly boring.

Break all rules, except the Chairman's

This isn't a post about how to lead your life, neither one that will inspire you. If you're looking for this wrong blog mate. I just finished seeing Lords of Dogtown. Again. Somehow i figured out something. But i'm not gonna tell you. because it amuses me to bits to imagine your confused faces as to what this post is about. It's about nothing. It's about being average. It's about all the bits and pieces that make you, my dear minions, mediocre.

We're an art uni. You see fucked up people 24/7. Gay, punk, emo's, suicidals (they're the fun kind to pick on), housers, finnish people (they are a breed apart - like the martians, but less flying). You get used to it all, all the shit, and the fake nails on guys and the goofy outfits and the superiority and start to see behind it all. Behind the cool glasses and the short skirts - which do provide a good deal of fuel for imagination, i shit you not - you can see mediocrity. Lurking around corners. Hiding in your purse and pissing on your chips when you ain't looking.

There are people, in our uni and out of it, that don't have ONE - SINGLE - CLUE about what they are doing. And why. They're given chances that other people don't even dream of, and they fail miserably retaining their own shallow happiness, bathing in mediocrity. Half of the people i see every day have been given chances that are not even close to their merit. Somehow settling for less, living as a piece of meat with eyes seems to be a satisfying status. How distasteful.

And here to prove that there's two sides to the coin, there are the finnish people in our course. I don't particularly like anyone just because i can't be asked to care about what you think. But finnish people i appreciate. They know why they came here and they always, without exception, live up to the standards. There is a number of small non - finnish people who i consider not brainless, but naming one or two would be more than i can for one day. Settle for the fact that out of all the students at photo there's a ... 6% chance it might be you. But there's a 94% that it might not, which, if i know my maths right - is bigger.

Me? I'm a prick. But i'm one of those who probably shoots better than you. One of them who, after finishing uni, won't be shooting weddings because they pay good money.

And you know what separates the mediocre from the elite? Desire. Excess. Balance. The Rush. Proper parties. Remember the Capa soldier? The elite wants the minutes of fame. The ones that getting a shot like that gives you. Leibowitz's Lennon. Erwitt's Guevara. The Holy Grail of photography. Walking around with a Leica and not having a care in the world, knowing that you're among the best. Walking into your exhibition and people congratulating you. Driving by billboards that you shot. This is what the elite wants.

The mediocre? Somebody's got to shoot weddings as well, don't they?

PS: i am the Chairman and these are my rules. Arrogant, isn't it?

You

Suck

Obama - Tesco Value Happiness

It's a fad i guess. Everyone is writing about the win of president Obama. All america is surprised and happy that he got elected. Why surprised?? You voted him, dumb-asses! Like a friend pointed out tonight: "I'm not a racist, but a black man is in charge of the white house". It's just hilarious that the continent of stupidity has spawned another good one. Perhaps this president, who is a family man, supports the black community, and has even got the rednecks voting for him, can truly make a change. The change would be to take your tanks home and leave the oil with the people who own it, teach the three quarters of your lobotomized nation to read, write and be polite( also explaining that being illiterate is not cool, and for this reason alone America is not number one, fiercely racing for 140th position with Uzbekistan, Congo and some other obscure contries that only the red cross visits )... and what was my third wish now... oh yeah... put the nation on an intensive aerobics class. Make the fat bastards run. An then i might personally consider that the country is not simply a territory filled with brainless pieces of meat with eyes.