매일 중도에 와서 일정 시간 책을 읽고 싶다.
밤에는 집에 가서 설거지와 빨래 같은 집안일을 하고.
어쩌면 공부를 위해 학교에 들어가지 않아도 될지 모르겠다.
이렇게 보내는 시간이 너무나 행복하다.
동아리에서 좋은 친구들과 후배를 많이 사귄 것도 정말 행복하다.
물론 좋은 여자를 만나고 친구들로부터도 인정받고 싶은 마음도 있다.
아래와 같은 사진이 정말 찍기 힘든 사진 같다.
이갑철 작가의 어떤 사진에서도 구석탱이에 있는 정말 작은 피사체 (파라솔 달린 테이블)
가 시각적으로 일정한 역할을 한다.
피사체와 조응하는 천재적인 능력.
나의 세포를 전부 개방해 상대의 모든 것들을 빨아들이는 능력...
무아. 탈아.
물론 다양한 타입의 사진들이 나올 수 있다.
위의 세 사진들처럼
피사체의 모든 것을 빨아들이는 사진은 아니지만
적절히 자신의 위치를 바꿔가며 새로운 관점에서 낯선 느낌을 가져올 수도 있는 것이다.
위 사진들처럼 편안하게 보이는 대로
찍을 수도 있다.
편안함 속에 엄밀함이 숨어 있기도 하고.
기획 단계에서부터 낯선 것이 시도될 수도 있다.
Yes, Dream/Life was really about finding myself and my place in life. I wanted to present a truer version of Sydney – with lots of rain and thunderstorms, and the darker qualities that inhabit the city – not the picture-postcard views the rest of the world sees. But I also wanted to make images that were poetic. Trouble was the city was actually quite ugly in terms of the amount of advertising and visual crap that clutters the streets. I found I could clarify the image by using the harsh Australian sunlight to create deep shadow areas. That searing light that is very much part of Sydney – it just rattles down the streets. So, I used these strong shadows to obliterate a lot of the advertising and make the scenes blacker and more dramatic. I wanted to suggest a dream world. Light does that, changing something everyday into something magical.
I was the only photographer they had and I did everything: advertising, news, sports, features, the lot! It meant incredibly long hours but it taught me to move quickly, shoot fast and think on my feet.
And if I can’t go 100 per cent at something, it’s over. I need to live what I do from the moment I get up to the moment I fall asleep (and then to dream about it some more). I didn’t play sport to be average I played to be the best that I could be. It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about making sure you are giving it your best shot with the abilities you have been granted…
My mum died suddenly one night when I was quite young. That was it. It was all over. It was a defining moment in my life that left me desperate to try to make sense of things – now, while I can. There is no certainty of tomorrow…
Ten years working as a sports photographer really helps me now because I can sense all the elements of a picture while they are still forming around me.
But I was also reliving my childhood at the beach and felt something stirring. Narelle, who also grew up near the sea, was having the same sorts of feelings. We went out the next day, bought underwater cameras and spent every sunny day for the next two years at the beach.
I was always wanting to push the boundaries and constantly fought with the editors to try to get the most interesting pictures run. It became a daily battle. In the end it all exploded into a major rumble. I packed my bags, cleaned out my locker and walked out the door. I never went back. I left before I knew what I was doing and Narelle had to support me for some time. Bad, bad boy!
Trent Parke은 Minutes to Midnight 이라는 epic 작업을 시작한다.
Australia is a hard country with the droughts and the firestorms and the poverty. And while there is a kind of freedom to it, there is also a stifling sense of inevitability. People in the outback live by standards that city people would never understand. But then you come to realise that it’s just the way people survive and have done for so long. There’s no malice in it – it’s just instinct. It’s just the way it is …
But even with work like Minutes to Midnight that’s so much about regional and remote Australia there’s lots of things that could relate to the wider world. The bigger picture things: terrorism, racism, poverty, natural disasters and the struggle to survive. So I found I was using this symbolism to tell a much bigger, epic story of the world through pictures made specifically in Australia. I think people can relate to this work in many ways.
Which is perhaps why it has proved so successful both here and overseas. So, in creating this epic, what kind of stylistic language or traditions are you drawing on?
I’ve been influenced by all sorts of things. Music videos have been great … There is this Icelandic group Sigur Rós – their music is just very sad and melodramatic. Nine Inch Nails and Radiohead and those sorts of bands and their cutting-edge film clips have influenced me. They have this kind of dark, dreamy quality and I suppose that was what I was trying to evoke. But, to be honest, I don’t really realise all this when I am shooting because the stuff inside me and the stuff outside me kind of flows through me into the pictures … Most of the time I’m in another world [laughs].
Do you ever have a memory of an event and a photograph, and find that the emotions of memory and photograph don’t match up?
When I was photographing the birth of my son Jem I couldn’t remember for quite a while the actual moment of birth. It all went blank. I don’t remember anything, I just went into automatic. There was poor light and I found it difficult to focus the camera. It was only after I looked at the roll of processed film that it all started to flood into my memory – what had actually happened. I had gone blank for those 10 to 15 minutes; I was so in the zone making pictures. I have never been so intensely scared as when I processed that roll of film because I knew something had happened and I didn’t want to have missed it.
When you are shooting a body of work over a long period of time, do you have the format of the end result already in mind: an exhibition, a magazine spread, a book or whatever?
Everything I do is working towards the next book. Books are what drive my work. I am not interested in single photographs. From the moment I started Dream/Life I knew that it had to be a book in order to get across my feelings for the city. Making books teaches you a lot about your own work. Every trip I do I make a one-off book from the work just to see where it’s going and what might still be missing to make it work as a whole.
I self-published Dream/Life because, in the end, I wanted complete control of the finished product. It would have been almost impossible to find anyone in Australia to publish a book like that. It cost me about $65,000 and, even though I am never going to make a lot of that money back, I couldn’t begin to place a value on how much it has helped my career. But self-publishing is an incredible amount of work and after we brought out The Seventh Wave I decided that the next book should go to a commercial publisher. Magnum is currently helping to find a publisher for the Minutes to Midnight book.
I don’t think it has changed the way I shoot photographs, but it has certainly changed the way I think about them.
While advertising tries to manufacture the real, I am attempting the reverse. I want to blur the boundaries between the real and the fabricated. Everything nowadays is for sale. Everything has a price. No price is too high.
What brought you to that conclusion, that way of thinking about the city?
My work always grows out of what is affecting my life right now. I see myself as an average Australian and the issues that affect me are usually the issues that are affecting a lot of other people too. I want my work to comment on what it was like to live in this country during my lifetime.
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