Dance, Monkey, Dance

Once again it seems I am neglecting my blog writing duties. Once again life has prevented me from regailing you all with tales of delight and surprise. That being said, I did spend a proportionate amount of my weekend this week trying to disentangle playdoh from my hair. Of course, work has been the usual array of the weird, the wonderful and the severely demented.
I shall start today with the message I recieved recently via Myspace (yes I know, Myspace, Facebook et al are the tools of satan) from an 'amateur' photographer enquiring about booking me for a shoot. When asked if this 'amateur' photographer could provide references, background history and sample pictures (of anything, even his dog would have done provided the dog was happy to pose to a minimum level of US magazine TFCD....actually no, let's not go there) he was, shockingly unable to provide anything aside from his word that he would 'show me some pictures he had done' when I went to meet him. This naturally made me feel immediately at ease, especially what with him having no details at all on his own myspace profile. I immediately sent him a message back saying that as he had offered to pay me to take my clothes off I would be delighted to meet with him, despite his lack of desire to actually prove his identity. I would also be happy to come to his house, in fact if we could meet down a dark alleyway or in the middle of a dense forest that would be far more ideal. I also made sure to let him know I wouldn't be telling anyone where I was going or take my phone with me.

I am of course, lying. Being sarcastic. Telling untruths. What truly terrifies me are the number of girls who would have gotten as far down his first message as ' I will pay you.....' and immediately messaged him back to book themselves on the first rung of the ladder to success. Or on a first class ticket to a ditch in the back of an abandoned farm. Of course, there is the possibility that the photographer was entirely genuine. But I'll never know. He could have been sitting there, camera poised and portfolio ready for display. Or he could have been Fred West's wet dream. There are so many people who believe that this is a dangerous industry to be in, but the truth is it's only dangerous if you're stupid. If you're so ridiculously dumb you can't see the danger in believing that faceless lines of text are in fact who they say they are, get out of the industry. Start running now.

There are of course, those who are genuine, but take the piss. Like for example, the photographer who approached me recently regarding a shoot. A total amateur, with pictures of a somewhat questionable standard. Aforementioned photographer mentioned being hard up for cash and asked if I would consider a part pay/part TFCD arrangement. Out of the goodness of my heart (I do have one, even if it is made of ice) I did offer to reduce my rates only to find in his confirmation email that he had added an hour of free work to my already reduced rates, meaning I would in reality, be working for an amateur, for pictures of no use, for less then minimum wage.

Guffaw.

I was glad this week to be able to work with someone who really is a true artist, appreciative of my craft as much as his own and as a result I will be working with him again. Because despite those that tarnish the reputation of the many genuine photographers that there are. Of course in some cases their jokes and their ability leave somewhat to be desired, but I'm not perfect myself. The truth is, in the majority of cases, their intention and their motives are genuine.

Well I'm off to try and make something constructive of my week. In the words of my good friend Gary G Sanderson, who remains to this day a faceless line of text, Dance, Monkey, Dance.