skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Email me
A little over a year ago at the pub, my mate Frosty told me that he was going to take a photo every day for a year, to hone his mad rectangular picture-making skillz.
I asked him if I could post the photos in this neck of the woods, thinking it would be an interesting project to invite myself to be involved in.
WHAT.
IN THE NAME OF STINKY BLUE CHEESE.
WAS I THINKING.
I was thinking it would be awesome and, for me at least (because I love you all, but seriously, find your own fun), I was right.
Usually over the space of twelve months, you just learn a random melange of facts about your friends. For example, over the same period, I discovered that Frosty accrues massive dental bills, likes hats with knitted beards attached, looks decent in a suit, and can apparently fart up a festival tent like a champion.
Things I wasn’t expecting to learn about him though, but have done so through the regularly-deposited images in my inbox, are things like the fact that Frosty can make a busy city street seem suddenly quiet and gently autumnal. That he has a sensitivity for texture that most of us don’t. That he can twist your visual expectations in surprising ways just by tilting his camera a little to the left. And that he barely gives away a single emotion or secret in person, but can gush like a hormonal schoolgirl via shapes, angles and light.
I’ve also learned that if you compliment him too much, his ego expands faster than a Wettex in a swimming pool, so I should probably just shut up and get on with it.
Frosty, thanks for sending me all these pictures. They take forever to upload, you bastard. And worth every second.
In closing: That last one’s a pearler, my friend. Gluckwunsche!
(Dammit. I can never remember if you're more of a "what's the background story here" person or a "zombie garden gnome" person. If you're the former, check here. If you're the latter, check here. Frankly, I'm both. Then again, I'm awesome).
I'm particularly excited about this batch of photos from camera chameleon Frosty. You might think that's because there's a photo in there of our mutual mate Threadrock singing up his reproductive organs.
That is exciting, but no.
Then you might think (and you're really doing an unnecessary amount of thinking about this, by the way) that I'm excited because of that shot where you go "oh, look, it's a flame OH MY GOD THERE'S A FACE BEHIND IT AND IT CAN SEE DIRECTLY INTO MY SOUL".
Wrong again.
You might think I'm excited because I have an unnatural and very private shoelace fixation.
Nup.
I'm excited because one of these photographs is totally of my handbag.*
Enjoy. And yes, you can borrow it.
*
No, silly. Frosty isn't my handbag. He's more my bitch.
(This is that bit where I express shock that you don't know what's going on here, but offer a link for you to catch up. And this other sentence is the bit where I link to something fleetingly awesome on the internet. And then I say "you're welcome" or something, because I feel like I've done you a favour because I'm a bit up meself).
Now that that bit's over, I go on about how cool Frosty's photos are, especially that one with the wings in it (but if there was one with something else in it better than wings, I'd mention that one). I'd spend a short while announcing that the year is nearly done, that Frosty's nearly taken three hundred and sixty-five photographs, and we'd all have a think about time, and maybe visualise a clock face.
And then I'd stop talking about this blog post in the third person, because it's irritating.
And then I'd say "Enjoy!", because I'm nice.
So, so nice.
