I Fucked Up a Photo

It was only until recently that I realized where my photographic style is heading / has always been. My father and I were laying on a beach in Florida last week. We'd taken a spontaneous road trip to Naples, FL for a week and found ourselves an afternoon to relax that wasn't actually spent inside a car. There we sat, beneath a 40 degree sun, facing the Gulf of Mexico. I think I was thirteen the last time I saw that water. There was, as there is every summer afternoon in Florida, an incredible storm system developing everywhere around us. Blue skies were turning into black and winds began to pick up. However, this didn't stop most of us from visiting the beach.

Directly next to me was my Mamiya 645 medium-format camera. I purchased it in early May and it hasn't left my side ever since. It literally changed the way I visualize, approach, and execute photographs. The decision to switch to medium-format simply stemmed for my current distaste for both 35mm film (in terms of it's grain seen upon printing) and digital (I don't know if I've ever put my heart into a digital photo my entire life). My Mamiya is fully, fully manual; some shots I'm not even sure will pan-out because I've tried to shoot them on the fly and each exposure requires careful attention to several aspects.

So there I am: dad, a storm, my camera, a beach, and myself. My dad suggested I take a photo of the oncoming storm. To his credit, my dad taught me composition at a very young age. "Get some of those ferns in the foreground, And" he has said to me at ages five, fifteen, and twenty-five. I agreed with him and pulled my camera out whilst being protective of swirling sand. I veered through the viewfinder and opted for a vertical composition (holy shit folks, this is like the punk rock version of photography). However, I noticed something very personally satisying that was creeping into the frame from below: my fathers tanned, hairy, sweating stomach. This balanced the photo perfectly. From top to bottom: the towering storm system that is contained by the frame, descending towards hoards of umbrellas, bodies and sand, only to be anchored in the lower-third portion of the photo by a glistening male stomach. I quickly made the correct exposure adjustments, cranked the advancement lever and took the photo.

For me, all I could think of was how much this photograph summed up "Florida": Sure, there's a view, but there's also a lot of tanned old people.

And that's exactly what attracts me when taking personal photographs. By "personal" I mean images that are intended for nothing other than advancing my own body of work. For lack of better wording, I enjoying aesthetically pleasing photographs with something fucked up about them. Something perhaps that is small in the frame, but just captivating enough to make you question why it's there. To continue the story, I wanted my dad to take a photo with my camera, in an effort to experience a sort of "passing-the-torch-full-circle" moment between the two of us. The only direction I gave was "shoot that way", to which I pointed towards the other end of the beach. As he walked away, I noticed a large family tearing down there beach gear to go home directly in his path. I thought it would have made a great photo to see an oncoming storm and a dissatisfied family heading for the hills. He walked right past them. Seeing as I wanted him to take the photo he wanted (which was not doubt a conventional landscape), I kept my mouth closed and watched him handle a camera older than any of his children.

I want to say this is a rather recent discovery, but not only have I been practicing photography in this fashion, I've been living it. For instance, whenever I put on an outfit, I make sure there's usually one fucked-up aspect to it ie. a nice collared shirt/sweater combination with some nice jeans and white shoes that have been painted black and have blown so far open you can see my socks. Like showing up to a well-dressed b.y.o.b. event and holding a 40 oz Olde English. So, to say that this recent "refining" of a photographic style is news to myself, it really isn't, because I live it every time I walk out my door.

PORTPHOTIO pt. 1

As with any of my creative endeavors, I feel the need to further explain myself.
Recently I posted PORTPHOTIO; an online video rendition of my film-based photography portfolio. There are a few things I should mention before/after you watch this video.

For starters, there are two different photo projects within the video: "Mind Spaces" (0:25-1:45), "If The Ladies Ain't Happy, Nobody Is" (2:30-3:10), and "I Could Have Sworn They Were Just Here" (3:40-4:20), which only contains half of the finished series due to time restrictions.

The Mind Spaces series, which I have written about before on this site, illustrates how the basis of our knowledge can be defined by simple four-walled rooms, whether through means of education or life experience. If The Ladies Ain't Happy, Nobody Is is a series of cyanotypes that depicts a 5-minute incident that took place between a group of boys and a single girl in Positano, Italy. I Could Have Sworn They Were Just Here is a creative documentary project based off the idea of abandonment and traces of human presence.

Within the video there is also a large amount of travel photography. Seeing as I always bring film cameras with me when I travel (something I do to large scale at least once a year) it is only fitting that I incorporate that work into my portfolio. Within, countries such as Canada, the U.S., Cuba, Australia, Italy, Fiji, New Zealand, can be seen, whether through landscape or portraiture. This is by no means my entire travel catalog. In fact, I have another 15 rolls of used film sitting in my freezer awaiting processing - another reason why I included "pt. 1" in the films title - indicating that this will most likely be an ongoing process.

Thirdly, I should touch on the digital aspect of this project. Aside from a few select photo's that were printed either chromogenically or inkjet (which I can clarify if anyone was really curious), the bulk of the work was shot on film and printed within a darkroom. Considering that I have an equal (if not more) amount of digital photography, I deemed it necessary to leave that work aside for another video project, which could easily occupy a similar amount of time. Separating these two was critical in my mind.

The video format idea was simply an accessibility idea. Seeing as my artistic website is not complete, I felt a different means of showcasing the work was needed. Considering that we live in a media-friendly age, I thought it best that the viewer relax and enjoy having myself flip through the images for them. Oh, YouTube didn't pick up on it, but the song playing is Sentimental X's - Broken Social Scene. It was the least annoying and most time appropriate song on my computer.

Lastly, how has the pun "portphotio" not been used yet? Sure, if you look it up on Google you will see a slew of sites, but most of them direct you to unknown domains and leave you stranded on foreign territory. If you type in "portphotio" on YouTube, it's the only video by that name. To me, being the YouTube junky that I am, that is some sort of milestone. After searching just now, "Paintfolio" doesn't exist either. If anyone reading this steals this idea, you better lawyer up asshole, because I thought of both.

On a lighter note, I really hope you enjoy the film, because it was intended for you all to see. Keep in mind that this is by no means a completed project, but rather an ongoing one.

Andy Schmidt 2010.

ps. If the video does not fit due to its widescreen aspect ratio, view it here.

Talkin' Schmidt - Travel Edition 3

Here's the topics while on safari:

-Prince of Hicktown aka Persian Sky

- The Truth Behind Bidet's

- Chinese Wanted Posters

- Lo-Fi Travel Photography

- Lazy Modern Technology

-HD-Film (dis)Advantages

-Letting Your Girlfriend Win

- Religious Awakenings/Superbowl Prayer

- Silk Spectre is an Ungrateful Bitch

- Male Bathroom Etiquette Pt. 1/2

- Freestyle Intermezzo

- Unnecessary Sneezing

spreken ze talkin' schmidt

I know I didn't make any mention of it at all, but I'm off to Italy and Switzerland for 3 weeks.

Me and BK are currently sitting in Heathrow Airport in London waiting to make our connecting flight to Rome. Very exciting!

For those that remember from last summer, I'll be continuing my writing on my travel blog, Spreken Ze Talk. I sacrificed my film camera for my video camera this year, which should provide some memorable moments.

guero

Back in London, once again, for the weekend.

Came down pretty much to hang with family and get some work done for school, because lord knows I can't concentrate in my own home. The unfortunate thing is I forgot my video camera, which is too bad because we're both sitting on a mountain of mini and extended things worth mentioning (I have a lot of really short ones this time around).

Holler at me Londoners if you read this. I'll be around tonight.

ringing ears

We had rehearsals today for the first time in almost a month. Jess was in Portugal and Andrew was pissing out his ass in Peru (Dan and I sympathized, as we had similar stomach problems in Fiji - needless to say, we all had a good laugh).

So with them back, we had a really fun Sunday afternoon jam and went over most of the material we've been working on, as well as a couple new diddy's. On top of that, it had to be the loudest jam to date. The boys bought a beautiful new VOX amp for electric guitars, which means we now play with two electrics, bass, keyboards, and drums all at the same time. As you can probably notice from the photo, the space isn't huge. This is the first time I've ever left a rehearsal with my ears ringing probably because we played Rooftops today about six times, which is about this loud and this fast.

Here's a pretty irrelevant shot of my studio. I thought I'd take it because my wide angle lens gives me a pretty nice view of the place. You can check out some of the notes on my Flickr. There's some funny treasures in there.

startin fires tour

Show tonight in Kingston.
Yeah.

3B.

Budapest. Beer. Broken Hand. Christ, summer was good.

until then

I was listening to this song the other night and decided to bring it back to life by making a video for it. Seeing as I had a camera full of travel footage, I thought why not use it somehow? The thing I find kind of funny about the video is that it was entirely shot by myself, my dad, and my brother - something which I can guarantee you won't happen again for the rest of history: the Schmidt boys filming music videos.

Needless to say, here it is.



Aside from that, it may be worth watching on Youtube's site, seeing as the format of my blog cuts the sides off videos when viewed on certain screen sizes, like my own.

Percussion Gun

I was fully prepared to write an entire piece about the trials and tribulations of 2009, but decided against it seeing as I'd much rather finish cooking my meatballs and fried spring rolls. End of the decade, blah blah blah. Lotta shit went down, and you don't need to read about it here.

I was actually surprised to hear that 2009 was an awful year for most of my friends. I personally thought it was fucking awesome, but only through the powers of circumstance.

Throughout the year I visited Poland, Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, Hungary, England, New York City, New Baltimore, Detroit, Quebec, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island and Newfoundland. I managed to dodge one of the worst Toronto summers (including the garbage strike) and hung around for the warmest November in over 100 years. I even broke a bone.

As in any year, most of you may know that, although I believe resolutions are bullshit and meaningless to a degree, a new resolution is to be made for myself.

After a discussion with a professor on the topic of promotion in the art world, he stated in clear black and white that nobody can begin representing your work but yourself. This is in fact true. I don't know what I was waiting for, but I have a studio absolutely full of work that could be hung at any moment. This is where the resolution comes into play.

Man of Action

This year is going to be all about progress. The word itself has always intimidated me. I get comfortable in some situations and find it hard to detach myself from it. However, I slowly realized that progress really isn't hard at all. It's just a matter of movement, motivation, and passion working harmoniously towards an attainable goal.

The other day I clearly, in my mind, mapped out what I want out of my life. Then I realized I'm 23 years old, and that there is still plenty of time. Yet why wait? Why not jump start things and showcase work at all times? - although I've been technically showcasing and selling work at Orange Alert for over two years.

Man of Action is all about, well, action. Making calls, finishing my website (the lack of it is fully my fault - digging up and documenting past work kills my soul), sending emails, getting work, and making connections. I'm ready, and I'll do it. Upswing, baby.

Happy New Day.

the boys are back in town

BK is back in town from his Euro-travels and we're getting crazy.
Therefore, a small absence of posting.
Sweet berry wine!!

Mom, Prague, Czech Republic

mom's the best. i meant to put up this photo a long time ago.

that's callled tweeting

ALRIGHTMEANDBLAIRAREGETTINGDRUNKONOLDEEANDGOING
SWIMMINGWEALSOHOOKEDUPWITHGIRLSINNYC

above video: Battery Park, NY.

myth busters

Mike took off to Europe today for six weeks. To say I'll miss him is an understatement.
Have an awesome time "TraBike". Say hi to Barcelona for me.

where the great plains began

I was sifting through my video camera the other night and completely forgot about this video.
It was originally shot for Dan, as we both share a love for the song, and for The Tragically Hip.
So, as I crossed the hundredth meridian over a year ago, this video was filmed.
Excuse the horrible singing, but if you knew how Gord Downie sang live, you'd understand.

fuck chinatown, i'm going italian

"Man, I know exactly how it's going to happen. Andy's going to wait until the last minute, and then out of nowhere he'll find some awesome place. That's how it's going to happen."

That's exactly how it did happen.


About an hour ago, I agreed to live in a bachelor at the intersection of College and Markham! Without fail, I waited until the last week of August to start looking. I was pretty taken with the space as soon as I stepped in for the tour. Big kitchen with nice appliances, great big bedroom, lots of closet space, and a decent bathroom. It's located in the basement of a house owned by a fairly young family. Luckily, my charm payed off and the owners really liked me, so they asked if I wanted in. I happily agreed.

Sure, a little pricey, but it'll work. I think I'm most excited to live by myself. I think I've fantasized about the idea steadily for over a year. I'll probably soon liberate my moms piano from her place so I can relax and work on some stuff I've had in my head for a while. Dinner parties will be planned on occasion, as I am sandwiched between two of the finest ethnic hubs in Toronto. On top of that, I even have room for all my stuff - even my projector. I can't wait.

I'm also planning on painting it a different color, which means I'm looking at you, kiddo.

Blair and I have decided to squeeze the last bit of summer by going to New York for the weekend until Monday. I hope to find another Miles David t-shirt gem.

non-stop-summer

Here we go again.

Another year, another week of golf with hilarious old guys in Michigan.

Lots of golf, lots of beer, lots of laughs.

I'll be back on Friday.

No Need To Read This Next Bit

We're back in town

London that is. After leaving Halifax, we thought we might as well drive all the way home, all at once. 27 hours, three caffeinated drinks, four tanks of gas, and more fast food than I'd like to mention later, and we're home. The thing about the energy drinks is that I couldn't get to sleep once my driving shift of four hours was up, so I never slept. I can distinctly recall driving through the GTA around sunup, barely there. My body shut down completely, while leaving me with enough energy to understand whether I was going to crash into another vehicle or not.
The funny thing was, I didn't sleep for most of the day once arriving home. I still haven't fully recovered from that night. Remind me to tell you a funny moose story later as well...

The Wooden Sky

The same night we arrived, we went to go see The Wooden Sky perform in Paterson's backyard. Awesome show. Not only did we get to drink Olde E for the first time in months, we saw a ton of old friends and met a lot of great people. I even saw the boys from my old band The Dustbowl Refugees, which I'll detail at a later date. Check TWS out for sure. Super psyched on their new record.

Golf, Big Time

Myself and the boys went golfing yesterday in St. Catherines. It was Dan's first game and he killed it. Well done my man. It pissed rain nearly the entire time, but we played anyway. Darcy and I both had flying-club incidents, which caused me to "peek" in laughter (which means it doesn't get any louder). I won closest to the pin on a hole, which is always nice. My prize money payed for gas on the way home. Dan and I also cleaned up in the prize draws, taking home the majority of the gifts. I fucking love golf. Alright? I LOVE IT.

Family Time

It's quite rare for me to have any quality time with my family when I come home. I'm usually rehearsing, eating at King's Inn Diner, visiting friends, attending whatever event, or curing a hangover. There's really not enough hours in the day to see everyone. Luckily for this weeks visit, I have plenty of time. Made tortellini prima vera for dad, visiting gram for the first time in a dogs age, made bbq'd corn salad and butter chicken for my ladies, and driving around town with my sister listening to Jackson mix tapes. Awesome.

Retro

By god, was that ever an interesting night.

The Heart

I've mentioned it a hundred times over: I have a bum ticker. It's not all that bad, it just gives me shit every once in a while. There's nothing like the feeling your palpitating heart is about to explode out of your chest. I'd arranged to have an Electrocardiogram with my dad about a week ago, which took place this morning. Everything looked pretty normal, save for my pulse, which pumps around 89 beats per minute, sitting down. Later this afternoon I have an appointment with a cardiologist to have a 48 hour heart monitor installed onto my chest. This is funny to me, considering we have a show to play tomorrow night, and I plan to beat the living shit out of my drums. Hopefully it doesn't run out of batteries and die like the last one. Electrodes are so much fun.

The Beard

I've never heard so many mixed reviews about anything. My beard has hit an all time record in length. Some people think it's handsome, others think it's burly and and out of character. Even last night, two ex-girlfriends of two years gave me polar-opposite reviews. What the hell? Maybe it was too radical a change for some and they're just not used to it. Either way, I'm going to keep it for at least another week I think. At least until I can't take the ridicule.

Haircut

I got a haircut yesterday. I proper haircut. One that I didn't do. My hair was a little pissed I think. I can't remember the last haircut I got professionally. However, it did feel good to get my head rubbed by some cute 'dresser. I think I'm going to marry a hair stylist just so I can get my head rubbed every once in a while. When I was young, my mom would brush my hair to get me to sleep. There's something about that brush that just conks me out. Looks good though.

Travel Tick

My career, no matter what it eventually may be, will not be boring by a long shot. Even as I sat in the waiting room today, my skin crawled with the notion of a desk job. The kind of job where the only things that excite you throughout the day are the fan turning on and off, lunch breaks, having to take a piss, and maybe the dirty magazine you keep in your filing cabinet. No thanks, not for me.
Even after being home for only days after traveling, I want back out. The thrills were all there on this trip: the strangers, the scrounging, the filth, the distance. I travel quite a bit for someone my age, only because I allow myself to. I have no sympathy for those who are jealous, because I have no more opportunity than the next person. Initiative is what separates the do'ers from the dreamers. All it takes is some simple planning, some vision, some money, and you're off. Don't wait for your friends to finish three years of school, just go get it.

On that note, I have to go clean the trailer. In two hours I'll be a robot.

True Patriot Love

Happy Canada Day, my friends.

Having skimmed through my usual blog roll earlier this evening, I thought it necessary to at least brush upon the fact that it's Canada Day. The only thing I've missed mentioning while on tour is the passing of Michael Jackson, but that topic deserves some planning, which I'll get to.

But really, etiquette and tact aside: I love this fucking country.

For starters, I should mention that I've never really understood the large amount of pride that one puts into it's own nation. You'll never see me defending Canada in fatigues, nor will you see the red maple leaf stained permanently on my arm. I've always thought that priding oneself on the soil you were born on was more of an elementary idea, and that goes for every nation. There's not a country on this planet that I'd pronounce any pride from. However, I know that I enjoy living here.

I won't go on about how much I love the Rockies or Double-Double's, but rather what is contained within our borders, figuratively speaking. Our culture (and trust me, we have one) is such an incredibly fragile thing. It really only hangs by a few, strong threads. Our passive nature as a nation really allows us to legitimately lollygag around almost any situation, and I love that. The manners, the courtesy, the respect for one another: it's all quite remarkable.

It's only when you step outside of this nation that you realize how unique our culture really is. And you need not travel too far: minutes south of any Canadian border lies an accent you'd swear was as foreign to you as China. Having traveled across this country many times, under very different circumstances, I can tell you that Canadian culture is not too hard to find. All you really need is an empty stomach (to crave the food), a vehicle and destination (for the sights), some knowledge of the French language (because you're supposed to), and an old couple to talk to (because that's where the straight Canadian goods lie, largely).

I could just as easily go on about how many problems we have in this country, but I'll leave that for another day. Because who likes to get shit on when it's their birthday?

And besides, I got to see Joel Plaskett play last night for free in St. Johns, New Brunswick, so how hard can life here be?

I really want to revise this, but I'm tired from driving across the country. I'm going to bed, and wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy Birthday Canada.

wet hair

Alright folks, here goes nothing. This marks the last time I'll sit in my condo for the next month. I look at my bed, say a few nice things to it, and then part. I look at my shower and all it's glory, say a few nice things to it, and then part. I look at my fully functional kitchen, cry a bit, and then part.

If you've ever camped, traveled for an extended period, or performed a series of shows over a short period of time, you know that what I'm doing is completely necessary.

As a pack my things, my laptop is running on full tilt as I upload nearly every album I own onto it for the road. It's funny, because this is exactly what happened when I left for New Zealand a few years back, and my parents almost left me at home because this double Jimi Hendrix album I had took forever to upload. Must have been those lengthy solos.

Packing for a months time is a serious challenge. You realize how large your wardrobe is (mine is currently massive), and you can only pack really generic things. The key word is "versatility". Because you can't just throw in flashy pants or shirts that don't go with anything. But that's just me being a woman. You also need clothes that you know will either last a really long time, or won't make it past the first week. Some shirts are just bought to throw away.

When I'm gone, I really want to french kiss a french girl, but I have certain people to thank for that.

Either way, I have to leave now. Send me your address and you'll get a postcard. I promise.

I'll be thinking of you.

Andy.