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Fwd: Why I take pictures; a poem

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  • Snaebjorn Hakonarson
    Forwarded with permission of the original poster concerning a discussion on a kingdom list concerning the use of cameras at events. While no poet myself I find
    Message 1 of 2 , Feb 18, 2011
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      Forwarded with permission of the original poster concerning a discussion on a kingdom list concerning the use of cameras at events.

      While no poet myself I find that this work was quite entertaining. Apparently written in roughly 10 minutes according to its author.

      In service,
      Snaebjorn

      --- On Fri, 2/18/11, Alaxandr MacLochloinn <treevemilne@...> wrote:
      Good Afternoon,

      A reply in verse.

      I'm sorry if you feel that we all are somehow not
      up to your standards of historical verisimilitude
      but it's hysterical to me that you care.

      My camera is not period but you can't say that
      about my desire to paint a portrait, record an event,
      tell a story or share a memory with my friends. or you.

      I'm sorry if you feel I am harshing your buzz, but
      your sunglasses, sneakers, casserole armor
      and mixed-century outfit already paints an odd scene.

      Maybe you're the perfect one, with perfect 13th century
      Italian Florentines sewn with hand hammered needles
      from cloth you made yourself.  I'm stunned.

      I'd like to paint your portrait. You're showing off. 
      Don't try to pretend you're notflattered at the attention.
      I know my method isn't period, but I have no skill with brush.

      The convention center and the mundane serving staff
      at the restaurant, the neon and fluorescent light are not
      how they would have done it back then, either.

      I never intend to get in the way, I lurk when I can.
      I hide my camera under my sleeve and shoot pictures
      over a shoulder, between the crowd, hidden.

      It doesn't always work. I'm 6'2" and can't always hide.
      (Your Grace, I apologize. But you know you liked the result
      and your picture of me taking a picture of you later was priceless.)

      I don't want to be jarring and annoying. I try to hide
      what I am doing and in return all I ask is that you
      don't make a big deal out of it and harsh your own buzz.

      I will try to avoid the truck in the background,
      dodge a bit or use someone tall if you promise
      not to park it right in the open and leave it there.

      You may think those orange-glow Oakleys are cool
      but I'll wait until you're out of the picture or take them off or move.
      (wasn't there a more subtle hologrammatic lens?)

      I'm sorry if you think you look silly; not intended at all
      and I'll take it down post-haste. I would have skipped
      over it but I missed it in the rush.


      I will stay unobtrusive and hide the camera as much as possible. 
      I won't take those night pictures because the flash
      is obnoxious and rude and I don't want that.

      I will take those night pictures sans flash if you're
      getting an award and I can hold everything steady enough.
      "The King kissed my hand." giggle.

      I will take those pictures of your pavilion because it's
      obvious you've set everything up just so and later you'll
      be using them to explain just how you set up a medieval camp.

      I won't catch your attention and I won't try to ask your permission
      because I don't want you to pose, or break your concentration.
      I want to see you.  The real you.

      My goal is the candid shot that shows you at your best.
      That you had no idea was happening and catches
      that smile, that excitement that everyone knows.

      I want to show you what I see, that magnificent cloak with
      amazing embroidery; the armor shining in the sun,
      pageantry, heraldry, calligraphy, the favors swaying.

      The look when you are talking, or demonstrating;
      hands showing the placement of the sword
      and the shot that landed. "No shit, there I was ..."

      The newly appointed knight can have his medieval
      moment and remember it ten years from now
      with his then eight-year-old children .

      That photo that becomes the Facebook profile.
      Often swapped out for another but somehow
      always makes it back again and again.

      The emotion, the joy, the sweat, the exhaustion,
      the reason you enter Crown in the first place ...
      that's what I want to give back to you next winter.

      Maybe it gets re-imaged for the cover of Pikestaff,
      And everyone says "Did you see it?"
      "Yep. That's us. That is so cool."

      Your spouse puts it on the work computer
      and shows it to all the co-workers to help explain
      the bruises and the sunburns and the happy smile.


      I know you love the picture if you keep telling me
      how you are showing it to all your friends.
      "Look at my boots up in the air. No shit, there I was ...."

      I know how everyone feels when there
      are four hundred Facebook photo tag requests
      on an otherwise dreary Tuesday.

      It's for the soldier in the Middle East
         and his wife back home.
      It's for the grandfather who can't make it
        or the poor bastard who can't get out of work.
      It's for the thousands who'll never get to Pennsic
        to vicariously experience it with the thousands who do.
      It's for my students (and yours)
         who don't quite believe you.
      It's for old friends who wanted to be there
        and new friends who were there.
      It's the "Wish You Were Here" postcard
         that really means it.
      It's for the squire who didn't know he was being tapped
         and didn't think his wife would enjoy the event.

      It's for me, yes, but it's for you, too.


      That's why I do it.


      Well, that and for beer.
      and songs
      and friends
      but you're my friends and you knew that.


           
      _______________________________________________
      sca-east mailing list
      sca-east@...
      http://mail.indra.com/mailman/listinfo/sca-east

    • Stephen R. Melvin
      Thank you. -Rathflaed ______________________________ Rathflaed DuNoir The Black Bard of Meridies, MSoB http://www.chivalry.com/blackbard/
      Message 2 of 2 , Feb 18, 2011
      • 0 Attachment
        Thank you.

        -Rathflaed
        ______________________________
        Rathflaed DuNoir
        The Black Bard of Meridies, MSoB
        http://www.chivalry.com/blackbard/


        On 2/18/2011 6:33 PM, Snaebjorn Hakonarson wrote:
         

        Forwarded with permission of the original poster concerning a discussion on a kingdom list concerning the use of cameras at events.

        While no poet myself I find that this work was quite entertaining. Apparently written in roughly 10 minutes according to its author.

        In service,
        Snaebjorn

        --- On Fri, 2/18/11, Alaxandr MacLochloinn <treevemilne@...> wrote:
        Good Afternoon,

        A reply in verse.

        I'm sorry if you feel that we all are somehow not
        up to your standards of historical verisimilitude
        but it's hysterical to me that you care.

        My camera is not period but you can't say that
        about my desire to paint a portrait, record an event,
        tell a story or share a memory with my friends. or you.

        I'm sorry if you feel I am harshing your buzz, but
        your sunglasses, sneakers, casserole armor
        and mixed-century outfit already paints an odd scene.

        Maybe you're the perfect one, with perfect 13th century
        Italian Florentines sewn with hand hammered needles
        from cloth you made yourself.  I'm stunned.

        I'd like to paint your portrait. You're showing off. 
        Don't try to pretend you're notflattered at the attention.
        I know my method isn't period, but I have no skill with brush.

        The convention center and the mundane serving staff
        at the restaurant, the neon and fluorescent light are not
        how they would have done it back then, either.

        I never intend to get in the way, I lurk when I can.
        I hide my camera under my sleeve and shoot pictures
        over a shoulder, between the crowd, hidden.

        It doesn't always work. I'm 6'2" and can't always hide.
        (Your Grace, I apologize. But you know you liked the result
        and your picture of me taking a picture of you later was priceless.)

        I don't want to be jarring and annoying. I try to hide
        what I am doing and in return all I ask is that you
        don't make a big deal out of it and harsh your own buzz.

        I will try to avoid the truck in the background,
        dodge a bit or use someone tall if you promise
        not to park it right in the open and leave it there.

        You may think those orange-glow Oakleys are cool
        but I'll wait until you're out of the picture or take them off or move.
        (wasn't there a more subtle hologrammatic lens?)

        I'm sorry if you think you look silly; not intended at all
        and I'll take it down post-haste. I would have skipped
        over it but I missed it in the rush.


        I will stay unobtrusive and hide the camera as much as possible. 
        I won't take those night pictures because the flash
        is obnoxious and rude and I don't want that.

        I will take those night pictures sans flash if you're
        getting an award and I can hold everything steady enough.
        "The King kissed my hand." giggle.

        I will take those pictures of your pavilion because it's
        obvious you've set everything up just so and later you'll
        be using them to explain just how you set up a medieval camp.

        I won't catch your attention and I won't try to ask your permission
        because I don't want you to pose, or break your concentration.
        I want to see you.  The real you.

        My goal is the candid shot that shows you at your best.
        That you had no idea was happening and catches
        that smile, that excitement that everyone knows.

        I want to show you what I see, that magnificent cloak with
        amazing embroidery; the armor shining in the sun,
        pageantry, heraldry, calligraphy, the favors swaying.

        The look when you are talking, or demonstrating;
        hands showing the placement of the sword
        and the shot that landed. "No shit, there I was ..."

        The newly appointed knight can have his medieval
        moment and remember it ten years from now
        with his then eight-year-old children .

        That photo that becomes the Facebook profile.
        Often swapped out for another but somehow
        always makes it back again and again.

        The emotion, the joy, the sweat, the exhaustion,
        the reason you enter Crown in the first place ...
        that's what I want to give back to you next winter.

        Maybe it gets re-imaged for the cover of Pikestaff,
        And everyone says "Did you see it?"
        "Yep. That's us. That is so cool."

        Your spouse puts it on the work computer
        and shows it to all the co-workers to help explain
        the bruises and the sunburns and the happy smile.


        I know you love the picture if you keep telling me
        how you are showing it to all your friends.
        "Look at my boots up in the air. No shit, there I was ...."

        I know how everyone feels when there
        are four hundred Facebook photo tag requests
        on an otherwise dreary Tuesday.

        It's for the soldier in the Middle East
           and his wife back home.
        It's for the grandfather who can't make it
          or the poor bastard who can't get out of work.
        It's for the thousands who'll never get to Pennsic
          to vicariously experience it with the thousands who do.
        It's for my students (and yours)
           who don't quite believe you.
        It's for old friends who wanted to be there
          and new friends who were there.
        It's the "Wish You Were Here" postcard
           that really means it.
        It's for the squire who didn't know he was being tapped
           and didn't think his wife would enjoy the event.

        It's for me, yes, but it's for you, too.


        That's why I do it.


        Well, that and for beer.
        and songs
        and friends
        but you're my friends and you knew that.


             
        _______________________________________________
        sca-east mailing list
        sca-east@...
        http://mail.indra.com/mailman/listinfo/sca-east

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