Not Winning.
“Award-winning photography is about ‘attacking’ the eye by composition. And composition is simply a combination of points, lines and shapes.”
I wish I had come up with that, but no, it was Clement.
Clement, an award-winning professional photographer, shot for F1 and celebrities in Malaysia with VIP access to all cameras of all brands. He is also one of my twenty-one friends who pesters me to start a YouTube channel.
Once again, why don’t you do it yourself?
“Because I’m not as passionate as you,” he said.
I nearly spat out my Geisha coffee from Amaybamba, Peru, with a hint of rose, pomegranate and mandarin.
Well, you could start your channel talking about photography.
“Haih, I can’t talk. I hate talking. But you can!”
Sidenote: he’s talking. A LOT. But in Malaysian Mandarin. We’ve been chatting in Mandarin for the last hour.
I wonder how many Clements are out there. Obstructed by the wall of Babel.
Aside from influecers, he also pushes me to enter photography competitions.
Those babies-in-a-flower-petal, wrinkled-old-man, food-market-in-India, homeless-guy with-a-tattoo competition? Nah, not exactly my cup of -
“The winner gets USD 50k,” he said.
This time I spat out my Panama Geisha coffee from Altieri Estate with a hint of kiwifruit, lychee & apple.
“It’s like buying lottery tickets, right? The chances are very slim. But in this case, for you and I, the chances are bigger than almost zero. 是不是?”
Shi, shi I said, licking my coffee off the back of my hand.
Since then, he’d message me deadlines of all photography competitions around the world. There’s one in Sydney, there’s one in Dubai (grand prize a million dollars), the Bendigo one’s due next week …
Like a mosquito into your bedroom at 1.43am.
Eventually, I gave in and sort of made a plan.
I didn’t want to enter for the sake of it, I wanted to give myself a brief.
A portrait.
Portraits have always been my thing.
Not wedding. Not family. Not chefs. We’ve had enough of chefs.
But everyone I know who is young and interesting is probably a chef.
Alright.
Something to do with food.
Something to do with writing.
No, not a self-portrait.
Maybe a librarian.
Like a book shop.
Book shop about food.
For people who cook.
Books for cooks.
Tim.
I picked the worst time to approach Tim.
Cheapskate Booklovers went around all the bookshops in the city collecting stamps for the chance to win a set of books.
Get a life.
He was kind enough to say yes1.
And we pencilled in a Monday morning for a quick session.
Clement even came to assist and set up an umbrella light.
I’ve always wanted to shoot with an umbrella light.
I’ve always wanted to do a portrait à la Annie Leibovitz.
Spoiler alert: I did not win the competition.
My gut knew when I submitted the entry.
What a waste of $35.
But hey, people buy lottery tickets for something to look forward to.
Do you remember the old Books for Cooks?
No, not Therry Street.
Gertrude Street, Collingwood.
That was almost fifteen years ago.
I bought countless copies of Lucky Peach.
Truth be told, Tim, you were scary and intimidating.
It is absurd and surreal to acknowledge that I’d self-publish a book, stock it in Books for Cooks, and shoot the portrait of the owner, unlock a coffee discount code fifteen years later.
What an arc.
So ultimately, it’s not for Tim, or Clement.
It’s for myself.
If you squint hard enough, the photo is a self-portrait.
Could I have given it a bit more thought? Of course.
Could I have done better? Always.
Will I keep entering competitions? Quizás.
That’s not the point.
Those book lovers did not collect stamps around the city for the free books.
They did it because they enjoyed being book lovers.
I mean, he was drunk on all the sugar from the pastry I brought him from Small Batch and Kare.
you should absolutely keep submitting. Also, can I be person 22 to ask you to start a YT channel? please?