NO REAL AMBITIONS
It’s been 16 months since I’ve posted here. A bit of catching up to do . . .
drool began 15 years ago (July 30th, 2006) as a bunch of miscellaneous posts about my commercial/editorial career and other photo-related interests. Over time it evolved into the political arm of Tony Fouhse. Always somehow relating to photography, often disappointed with the state of the art. Let’s call it: opinion. (Sample the previous drool post to see what I mean.)
When I launched my newsletter, HYPO (February 2, 2020), I decided to be less political and more positive. That decision had something to do with the fact that with HYPO people were inviting me into their homes (inboxes), I wanted to be a polite guest. On the other hand, my blog (drool) feels more like I’m inviting you to my house, you can drop by if you want.
SO HERE WE ARE
Now what am I going to say, anyway?
Well let me tell you that these days I’m not so interested in photography. That is, after a couple of decades (at least) of finishing one project and moving almost immediately onto the next, I’ve run out of steam on that front. Presently I’m living with no real ambitions.
Am I getting bored? Yes. Is there something building up in me? I believe there is. Will I find a way to get it out? I hope so. Will any of it matter? Hardly.
But anyway, while I’ve been waiting I’ve (still) been thinking about photography. I’ve also been thinking a lot about consciousness, about convenience, about struggle and friction. About Human Nature and Politics and Media. So maybe that’s what I’ll be writing about here until, once again photography gives me, shows me, allows me, a way out.
I know I’m pissing into the wind here. I’ll keep pissing.
Convenience will be the death of us.
Don’t get me wrong, I quite like a certain amount of convenience. For instance, I’m glad I don’t need to go into the woods to kill an animal, don’t need to till and farm the land in order to put food on my table. I also like the fact that I don’t have to know how to spin cotton, cut patterns and sew to put clothes on my back. And so on.
And sure, I own a car, it’s quite convenient. A Nissan Micra, the most barebones car you can buy. It’s a shifter car, and if I want to back up I’ve got to swivel my body and look behind seeing as it has no cameras in it to assist me in that onerous task. It doesn’t automatically turn on its headlights or windshield wipers, I’ve got to actually reach out and physically flick a switch.
And you know what? I like it like that, like to be actually connected to the act of piloting the vehicle. Just like I prefer to be actually connected to the act of piloting my life.
But that kind of thinking doesn’t feed the Machine, does it? The Machine needs limitless expansion, the constant churn of money. Money in, money out. Mostly, though, money into the pockets of the Captains of Industry.
Of course the corporations and their political stooges have the upper hand, the winning hand, when it comes to selling us our dreams. They know what we want (whether we know it or not, whether we want it or not). What we want is ease and convenience. And we buy it. We’ll pay for convenience.
On the macro level we (hoi polloi) don’t stand a chance. We’re a captive audience, sheep that hardly notice the wool being pulled over our eyes. It just seems natural, doesn’t it?
On the micro level, though, we can make a stand. Local, personal decisions that, while they won’t make much of a dent, will at least remind you pushing back is possible.