Wherein I possibly foreshadow my future career as a porn director.
December 11th, 2007 JohnMy final photography project took me on quite the journey. I would say the magnitude of this journey falls somewhere below Frodo’s quest right into the heart of Mordor to destroy The One Ring, but somewhere above Amanda Bynes’ trip to England to find out the real deal about her father in What A Girl Wants. Take that for what you will. My idea started at a rather different concept than it turned out, but I think it is all for the better. As with most ideas, my idea started with one thought, and that was, simply, balloons. (And of course, oh shit, this is due soon I need to get it done.)
My previous project, was shot in the cemetery, it was all about mortality and death and it was a fairly dark project. So as not to completely depress the class, I knew I wanted lots of color in this final one, more color even than those fancy Italian shirts Kelly gave me,* it was going to take on a much different feel. Balloons could be the launching pad for this, they are colorful and festive, and would make for an interesting photograph. I had thoughts of balloons being for this project what N’SYNC ultimately was to Justin Timberlake, a foundation for credibility and a foundation for greater success. My success would (hopefully) ultimately be a good review by my class and teacher, which is rather underwhelming when compared to Timberlake’s success which involves disrobing Janet Jackson on live television during the halftime show of a Super Bowl.
Deciding I wanted to use balloons was the easy part though, molding the rest of the idea, even with my sculptor of a brain (which I like to think is the Michelangelo of brains) turned out to be difficult. I came up with a juxtaposition theme. I would have people doing mundane tasks, and not looking too excited about them, while at the same time the frame would just be flooded with balloons. I wanted ridiculous amounts of balloons, in red, yellow and blue, the primary colors. I wanted my models to be wearing the same colors, so as to tie them into the scene. The bright, colorful, balloons would juxtapose the sense of mundane, and deadendedness (yes, I think I just invented that word), you would get from the models and what they were doing. This only slightly darkened my hopes for a very bright happy project full of smiling happy people.
In earnest, I went to Party City (which disappointingly is kind of a misnomer, it is not a city where a constant party is taking place, it’s just a store to buy party supplies) later that afternoon and bought 100 balloons, equally dispersed among my three colors of choice. Or, more appropriately I guess, as equally as you can disperse three into 100 (without ending up with thirds of balloons). I brought them back to my apartment and began inflating, with my own lungs I might add (as opposed to a helium tank, not somebody’s borrowed lungs, but that would be a neat trick). I got about 15 in before I felt like passing out and decided to take a nap on the couch. I woke up to my roommate coming home and looking at me like one might look at a seriously misguided street performer, with a mixture of pity and disdain at their sad choices in life. At this point though, he’s used to odd treasures of mine in the apartment, so doesn’t even inquire about the balloons. Little does he know, he will eventually end up in this project (and scantily clad I might add). I blow up 10 more before meeting some friends to go out for the night. I momentarily ponder the repercussions of going out to a bar right after inflating so many balloons, but quickly dismiss any concerns I might have. I survived my lightheaded night at the bar, albeit it involved multiple poor attempts at breakdancing.
The next day I got up and throughout the course of the day filled the remaining 75 balloons, along with a cast of characters who I flat out lied to to get over to my house. Sorry, we won’t be playing Mortal Kombat on my xBox, we are going to fill these balloons. I probably lost all of my credibility with my friends that I had amassed in the last 4 years within the span of 3 hours, not that I had much to lose in the first place. At some point during the day I also went and checked out lights from school, where I got mercilessly condescended upon for using photography terminology instead of the apparently much more accepted film vernacular. Such is the life of a non-film production major in the film school at Chapman. That night I talked my roommate and his girlfriend into posing for my project. I set up the lights in our dining room, as well as wrangled all of the balloons around the table. I popped probably 10 in the process, and told myself to be more careful.
I set up a fake dinner for Scott and Jacklyn to fake eat (obviously, because I need to eat it after the shoot). I posed the models, I lit the scene and framed the shot, ready to enjoy the first piece of my masterpiece. Slight problem, the photo looked terrible, not to mention really boring. It pretty much screamed pseudo artistic mediocre high school photo project, not to mention really boring. Suddenly I realized my juxtaposition idea was kind of terrible, not to mention really boring. Also, 100 (minus at least 13 by now) balloons just wasn’t cutting it, they didn’t fill the scene like I had hoped. They were underwhelming. I was getting hungrier and more frustrated by the minute. I finally surrendered myself to stealing back the dinner I made for Scott and Jacklyn and eating it all in a gluttonous fit of anger. A new idea was needed, and how!
I slept poorly that night. I tossed and turned and worried, stressed about not only this project, but also all of my 10 thousand final projects I have coming up due. Yes, you read that correctly, I literally have 10 thousand projects due. It’s a rough life. When I did sleep, I dreamed that a murderer broke into my house that night. Only, he wasn’t there to murder me, or Scott, he was there to murder my balloons (as well as presumably my grade in Digital Photography). I woke, drenched in a cold sweat that smelled of the mortality of my balloons. Suddenly, murderer or no, I knew their life was short. I owed them a lasting memory, by immortalizing them in my newer, better, faster, stronger, more powerful project.
That project ended up really taking quite a turn, pretty much by accident. A couple of my friends were over, this time under real pretenses. Drew walked into the kitchen, saw all the balloons, and remarked that he would pose in them, and it would look like he was in Balloon Heaven. Which, as far as I know is not a real place. I said sure and somehow the project progressed (or digressed, depending on who you ask) into Drew wearing a Speedo, standing in the balloons, under a single spotlight, holding a beer, looking like somebody you want to keep your kids away from. I’m not sure how it took such a 70’s campy porn (not to mention creepy) feel, but I suppose that is what happens. While I reviewed the pictures, they pretty much screamed post card (not to mention “mugshot”) to me, albeit advertising somewhere you probably wouldn’t necessarily want to go, “Pedif Isle” specifically. A solid idea was finally obtained, and talking more of my friends into posing in the same Speedo, looking overtly creepy, proved to be surprisingly easy. The end result is very darkly whimsical. It’s safe to say you have yet to see postcards like these.
-John
*Which I realize is an analogy exactly 1 person will understand. I apologize, but those shirts were the most colorful thing I could think of.
