You've probably never heard of him. Unless you're a serious photographer.
from the Wynn Bullock website
I went to the Wynn Bullock retrospective at the High Museum of Art in Atlanta, expecting 100 photographs that mimicked Ansel Adams, his more famous contemporary.
Instead, I found myself alone. Wandering three galleries of otherworldly photographs. Unlike anything. Unique.
Would it be weird to admit some of the images called to me?
MTM used to race cars. With people who went on to become actual NASCAR drivers. He worked as a mechanic through high school and college, when his prized possession was a 1969 Oldsmobile Cutlass W-31.
(I had to google it too, Dear Reader.)
Why did I find myself in a museum exhibit called "Dream Cars" last week?
In the American South, people structure their entire existences around college football. It's like going to mass. Every weekend there's a home game, people climb into their mascot-themed vehicles, drive hours in traffic, spend hundreds or even thousands of dollars on a buffet that would rival a royal marriage reception, and generally cannot be relied upon to do anything other than worship at the Altar of Football.
If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking. - Haruki Murakami
Maybe Murakami's quote applies to everything. Perhaps I'll out myself as a hopeless snob. If I lose a few readers or start a debate, GREAT. I'm typing what I have to say, because I can't sit on it any longer.
I am sick of the simpering sameness that permeates all creative forms today. From the same few music acts whose auto-tuned voices are beamed at me everywhere I turn/click/read to our dismal summer movie offerings to 'must read' book lists that are all composed of the same PR'd-to-death tomes, I am an isolated, dejected weirdo who must not like anything popular or socially accepted.
What bothers me about this isn't that social media seems to have turned our entire society into a herd of sheep, or that I feel like I have been sent on an endless trip back to high school where nobody ever graduates, grows up or evolves. No. I can deal with those things.
It bothers me to see myself becoming what I despise.
Can this ever mean a good day?