After the disappointment of the shooting I went to watch the France - England rugby match. France lost, so I ended up at Mathieu's drinking half a bottle of cheap LIDL vodka. While we drank and listened to something similar to Daft Punk but that's not Daft Punk (I couldn't tell the difference, really) we left the slideshow of hardcore street photography in the background. I'm happy. The pool looks coherent and it has enough single hits as for keeping people's attention for a while and make them wonder what comes next. Good job.
I then went to town to shoot (maybe the time was about 1?). These two blokes were staring at the sky and pointing at it, hugging each other. I shot. The flash went off and I thought they wouldn't see me. One turned around:
- If I see any shit published about Cardiff City I'll beat you up.
- I don't work for Cardiff City.
- We're Cardiff City supporters. We don't want any more shit about us in the newspapers.
- Oh, I see, I don't work for a newspaper, it's my project, I shoot at night. A lot.
- Cool! Were are you from? Give us a hug!
I should have never said that I prefer rugby to football. The thing kept on going on. They wanted to keep on drinking and I said that the Great Western is still open. It's a pub after all. Some girls were walking past, with short black trousers. One of my new friends shouts to them if they want to be in a picture. No way, I think. This guy is so drunk that nobody is going to get at range from him. The girls walk to me and one holds me. The other guy takes the camera. I have never seen so many framings crossing somebody's head in a second. It twists and bends in his hand, from forty five degrees to one side to the opposite, he barely is able to put it at his eye and even less to keep it level. I have the other guy at my right and this random girl at the left. She's fit and I put my hand on her left shoulder. I should do like Anthony and put it on her arse. Never going to see her again anyhow. God, sometimes I wish I was Welsh. And half a bottle of vodka is not enough. The flash goes off.
Later, when a police truck crosses the street I end up at the other side of the road. I decide to leave. I eat chips with curry and cheese. On my way home I see a bunch of girls with boxing gloves. I pass them. I keep an eye in case something happens. Up in the Hayes a car slowly passes them and stops. Two guys inside start a chat with them. You can smell the moment. I turn around and walk towards them, take out the XA1 and wait. I shoot. Two girls were talking with the guy in the car, with boxing gloves hanging from their necks. The third girl had the boxing gloves on, was fed up of them and walking towards the camera. I call that a moment to shoot, come on.
- You freak! she shouts.
- Hi. That was good.
- Delete that picture!
- I can't, it's film.
- Give me the camera!
The other girls come towards me.
- I can't, I think it's private property. It was a good moment, car stopped with two guys, lots of girls with boxing gloves. I don't see that every day.
- Freak. Keep on walking!
I keep on walking back home. They tell me to walk the other way. I don't listen, I walk faster. At the end the shot will be crap anyhow and fall out in an edit, I think. I chat in a corner with some people about photography. This one guy tells me that he has a relationship with his friend. Obviously they don't have one, but he leeches on his neck. I cross the church, some girls stare at me. I should talk less with my subjects.
Picture: Advantages of the roman dresscode - Cardiff. J. Karanka.
2 comments:
Nice bit of gonzo reportage on Cardiff city centre nightlife. All the usual suspects I notice: hooligans, girls in boxing gloves, alt.country singers...
Sounds like an average night in the Welsh capital.
Heh, Kate and I enjoyed that. You've got a nice way of telling these things - humane.
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