I've been watching documentaries on street photographers off and on for a few weeks. Last night I watched one about William Klein. I knew of some of his work, but I wasn't tuned in to his street photography. The documentary was done by the BBC, was a full hour, spanned the length and breadth of his career, and it was pretty darn good. I am both fascinated and dismayed by people who are able to commit themselves to something they want to do and then succeed in a great way. Of course. We all are. There has to be talent first, but there must be something else, too.
I can only watch and wonder.
Factory days are long as the days lengthen. I am expected to put in longer hours now, the payoff being a three day weekend. I am chafing against the time I spend at my desk, however. I am ready to chew off my leg to get out of the trap. Life slips by in a series of meaningless events, small conversations, and a swelling paranoia. I fear leaving nothing behind but factory work.
"What happened to C.S.?"
"They made him comfortable, I think."
I am tired. I am very, very tired.
Klein was a fashion photographer, too. He shot mostly for Vogue until they cut him off for a number of radical actions. He made fun of Diana Vreeland in a film and shot an anti-war documentary. He lived in Paris but traveled the world. He was irreverent. But I think he was probably as confused and unsure as any of the rest of us.