Press Button To Blog - Snail Eggs

Why did the snail take up running? To see if it could escargot faster than the chicken can lay eggs! Ha. Ha. Ha?

In a previous post I explained how I came into possession of a couple of endangered snails. Well, those numbers definitely increased in the intervening weeks. I mean who I am to decide who lives and dies? A politician? Pft. Heck no. So when I came across more gaunt gastropods in dire need of saving, to home they came with me, transported in my pants pocketed from their path that was highly travelled to my much calmer work locker before finally taking the nearly two hour trip to their new home. It's unsaid that part of being a good snail daddy is providing for my unexpected younglings, so that they get a range of food in their newly branching diets. Like many other shell oriented species, snails actually need some of the nutrition found in the shells that come from other animals.

Since I didn't have any cuttlefish on hand, they'd have to make due with the poultry variety. And since I was already cracking it open to grind up the shell, why the hell not see if they'd like some sunny-side egg? I've worked in kitchens, I'm somewhat certain I could cook to a snails discerning taste buds. Which, did you know, snails can "taste" a bit through touching you with their lower tentacles, in a fetish the mollusk world calls "rasping". Basically they're giving you a little gentile gastropod love bite to test if you're worth eating alive as you sleep. I'll let you decide if that makes you like snails more or less. But if Bob next door did that without you asking, you'd probably be calling for those unfortunately defunded police.

As their congratulations-on-not-getting-squished dinner sizzled on the stovetop, I setup my new product lightbox and let my boys roam around to get used to the new scenery, leaving loving slime trails of adoration as they scooted. I'm pretty sure I saw one doing some sick drifts in the shape of a heart, never breaking eye contact with me as he swirled past. You'd think it would be easier to take pictures of snails given their normally lackluster speed, but getting them to even moderately cooperate was a bigger pain than I expected going in. Some of them just sat still and thoroughly enjoyed their hearty meal of unfertilized chicken baby, 'cause hey, what an exotic treat for a fucking snail, while others made mad dashes to the side of the box in futile attempts to crawl upwards to hang off the ceiling like wannabe-bat-snails. And while they don't move fast, they're constantly shifting their heads and eye stalks, so it's frustratingly difficult to align my shots when their appendages are waving in every imaginable direction except for the ones I'd like.

What made this photoshoot even more fun was essentially getting to take my snails out for walks. To them, their epic sprint to leave their nu-family ("new" for those not hip with 2000's metal lingo) was like running a five minute mile. On their mini photoshoot adventure, it was a challenge to block the scene the way I desired, not that I had a particular plan for the impromptu scene. I literally decided to take their pictures when I was cracking shell to pan. But I tried to highlight the gracefulness of their slow, deliberate movements and the closeness they all seemed to have as they collapsed into frequent cuddle puddles, knocking each other over under the weight of one body after another as they all joined up into one Cthulhu-esque monster.

Even though I don't actually want more responsibility in regards to additional long term pets (I already have a cat and a dog), playing with my new friends piqued my curiosity about getting the types of snails that are as big as my hand, like the Australian Trumpet snail or the Horse Conch. Those I might be able to leash and take to the park for a real walk. I think there's only few people in the world (outside of select ten year olds) who genuinely think these make for adorable pets, but I'm definitely one of them, even if I don't want to go through the hassle of owning all of them. Like many boys, when I was little I used to collect bugs like worms, ants and caterpillars I caught during recess in pop bottles I kept by the window. And now as an quote and unquote grown-up, I often find myself wishing I had a bigger collection of insects to model for me. I've got plenty of eggs to share for their right bitey-things. I just find bugs with all of their unique and intricate details fascinating, and they'll always be the perfect subjects for future photoshoots if they'll stay the hell still. I like them even if they vaguely want to eat me, 'cause in all fairness I've had mushroom and escargot in a restaurant before, and it's only natural they'd want revenge eventually. And before this becomes a generational blood feud, I'd rather we get the chance to bury the hatchet now, and what better way to do that then with a full belly?

Press Button To Blog - Street Photography

There is an inexplicable thrill that washes over me whenever I step out into the unknown with my camera in hand. There's that excitement and anxiousness of never quite knowing what's going to happen in a growingly apocalyptic metropolis when you keep a keen eye out for "interesting", whatever flavour in which it arrives.

Street photography is an art form that dates back to the 19th century and has been a popular genre for many photographers ever since. Other than macro photography, candid photos is my favourite genre. It provides a unique perspective into everyday life while capturing moments that may otherwise go unnoticed. When you remove the element of people trying to look their best, that's when you're able to capture the realness of a person. Old school family photo albums are chocked full of surprised Pikachu (peek-at-you?) faces and unflattering angles, as are the ones taken by paparazzi in the tabloids dredged up at the bottom of supermarket magazine stands. With the proliferation of social media and the self obsessed glamorization of our mundane lives, people don't often share evidence of what they'd rather be unseen to the public eye. If no one spots that double chin or greying hairs, whose to say you ever had that second serving of cake?

In Ontario (Canada), candid photography is completely legal as long as it is done in a public space. However, if someone is in a private space and you try to photograph them, it can become a violation of privacy which does then fall into more perilous territory. It's always important to be mindful of the laws around photography, which of course I do, but I find that some people are still unnerved by the presence of a photographer in general, especially if it's a bigger guy like myself taking the pictures. It's unfortunate that some people don't appreciate the beauty in street photography and the fact that we capture real-life moments that can never be replicated on purpose.

There is a certain rush that comes with going out to take pictures on the street. Not knowing what you'll come back with is a bit of a gamble, what kind of people you'll run into, or what events will unfold in front of your eyes is more unpredictable than any role of roulette at the casino. So much of the success of the other flavours of taking photos relies on such extensive preparation. The gear, the subject, the lighting, the undefinable artistic inspiration that's hopefully behind it. The spontaneity offered in candid is unlike any other, and it's what keeps me coming back to street photography time and time again, especially when my creative juices have dried up like so many crusty socks hidden under teenage beds. Which I would know absolutely nothing about.

One of the things that fascinates me most about street photography is the fact that I'm catching people off-guard. And I fully understand that it's precisely why this type of work can run afoul of other peoples' comfort. There are no staged poses, no perfect lighting, and no makeup artists to make sure that everything is just right. The people captured are authentic and in their natural state, and that's what makes taking photographs that much more interesting to me. I would rather see exactly what that person looks like day to day outside of a perfectly curated image, because contrary to what some might think, that's how the rest of the world sees you as well. A fine tuned filtered pic on Instagram isn't how your date is going to remember you, their going to remember the funny look on your face as you sneeze and that time you spilled a $30 bowl of artisan-Mexican-Caribbean-fusion-spaghetti on your knockoff Gushi purse. SLAY QUEEN YAS!

However, as much as I perversely enjoy the thrill of the moment as I chase that ever illusive "interesting" photos, there are also some social implications that come with taking pictures of people who are not prepared. Being a quote and un-quote guy who is often perceived as "scary", can make navigating the social norms of street photography a bit...let's call it daunting. There's always the potential for an altercation with someone who doesn't want their photo taken, and that's a thought that can take me out of the moment when I should be getting into the "artist zone" to get the specific shot that I want. You have to override the natural desire to not get "caught", even when you aren't technically doing anything wrong.

And unfortunately due to a lot of poor policies and decision making in the city of Toronto, like many other metropolis' there's a rising wave of crime that's having a negative impact on the people who live here. Luckily I've yet to have a gun shoved in my face (while taking photos at least, though there's definitely other stories), and my intimidating demeaner might be working to my advantage in that regard. But I always try to be as respectful as possible and not invade people's personal space or privacy, but it's not always easy. Sometimes the call of the void rings in my ears and the picture can almost take itself. At least that's what I've convinced myself as I've struggled to not take photos of some of the more taboo subjects in the hobby such as at accidents and of the less fortunate such as drug addicts and homeless. There's always been a fine line between journalism and exploitation, and there's a lot of beauty found in the suffering we sometimes unfortunately endure. But maybe when I'm getting paid to take pictures of other people's misery for some dying newsprint publication I'll be able to justify my morbid creative eye. It's always easy to depart from your morals when there's a paycheque on the horizon isn't it.

As a burgeoning street photographer, my main goal is to improve my eye for timing and to get over the social awkwardness that can come with the genre. If my slightly deranged rant at the end didn't convey it, I really like taking these types of photos, negatives be damned. In theory, under the right conditions, I can learn how to replicate the results of other photographers with access to the same equipment, models and locations, because then it only comes down to technique, which is learnable. But out on the street with a just a camera in hand, I can take pictures that no one else can, that are completely unique to me. And that's a cool feeling at the end of my fingers through nothing more than a snap of a button. Even if it sounds like it, it's not always easy taking pictures of strangers without their consent (boy it sounds weird when I use the "C" word though), but it is a highly specific photography skill and a damn fun one learn. So if you happen to see someone taking your photo on the street, give a smile instead of a scowl, because of nothing else someone in life thought you were special enough to remember.

Press Button To Blog - Snail Cakes

Why did the snail start taking photos? He wanted to capture the escar-glow of the moment!

Oof.

It all started on my daily journey into work, walking along a path adorned with various plants and flowers and the varied insects that called them food. Almost everyday I noticed dried-out and crushed snails on the sidewalk (alongside the occasional dead mouse from god knows where). As someone who had a snail collection as a child (plus worms, caterpillars and the like), it broke my old man cold heart to see them suffering like that. I mean sure, being run over by a gargantuen tire is probably a fast death, but I mean, not a whole lotta dignity in dying on the pavement under cheap rubber and some butthole in his best Tour de France spandex outfit. I know they're just bugs (though technically not), but when I can lend a hand and help something or someone, I'll usually try. Which is unfortunately rare nowadays I find. So, I decided to start bringing them home to give them a better life for as long or short as that might be.

And what started out as only one poor soul living in a Tupperware container with holes poked into the lid, which then grew to three as one day I encountered two more hiding in the small respite of shade they could crawl to, until one day I had five of them, and then at its peak I had a collection of nine adorable gastropods who were endentured to me for life at this point. I had created an ad hoc community for these guys. I was a devine savoior, granting them land and sustenance, a true chance at prosparity. Snails are a great low maintenance pet (discounting cleaning copious levels of poo and having to clean their container all the time), and I always loved watching them slowly make their way around their habit looking for food and sleeping spots. It's amusing to see little personalities peaking through when you start learning which ones like sleeping in groups and what food preferences each has.

Of course nobody rides for free so to speak, and I doubted they'd be paying in gas, grass or ass anytime soon (though I'm sure there's Rule 34 out there somewhere for that exact scenario), so I decided to put those little freeloaders to work. I wanted to capture their unique personalities such as they were and to showcase their, ahem, beauty, as well as give them a happy survival meal to official welcome them to a new life. What better way to do that than with a cake, right? Diabetes is the gift that keeps on giving. I'm sure the squished snails on the pavement would have loved to be invited to the party.

I know that cupcakes and carbs aren't good for humans, let alone snails. But since they had just been saved from almost certain death, I figured it was okay to give them a treat. So the animal welfare types, please, feel free to feed your refugee gastropods however you want and leave me and my people alone. We may be a small nation, be we have a first world quality army consisting of a cat, a dog and jumping spiders and we're damn sure not afraid to use them in battle.

The snails seemed to enjoy most of the photoshoot (other than being relocated for better shots), and I got some great results at the same time. This had actually been one of my first few attempts at using my new product lightbox (which I made sure not to let get too hot). I didn't know when I started what an absolute pain having backdrops are for photography. In my head, my artistic "vision" so to speak was usually focused on the subject and the props around it. I hadn't put proper consideration into what's going on behind it, whether it's the visual interference of old tables, stained walls, errant dildos, and the like. Your brain tends to filter out the grab bag of nonsense that's usually left around until you spot the tiny details in photos that you'd prefer to hide. The lightbox offers a visually safe environment to work in where I can focus singularely on what's in front of the lens.

As I wrapped up the initial photoshoot with the snails, I decided to reuse the setup with a different model. I'm cheap and my time is money (whatever small value that is worth), so I figured I'd get the most out of the setup in case what I had just done didn't turn out the way I envisioned. I had previously opened up a souvenir display I had purchased in Thailand when I was younger, that was filled with dehydrated bugs of different species. And although the colours of the particular insect (his identity redacted to secure the safety and privacy of his still living family, or because I'm not certain of his species, either or) I dislodged from his pins really fit in with the bright cupcakes as the backdrop, the rigidness of the dried out corpse ruined some of what I had planned. No matter the angle or placement I tried, it never managed to look remotely realistic in the sense of seemingly like something that once breathed. For all intents it might as well have been a toy. Although obviously it's near impossible to make something dead look convincingly life-like (Joe Biden being the rare exception), the results were further away than I had imagined them to be. I could have tied some fishing wire around each of its limbs and marianetted it around like Weekend at Burnie's and it still would have been a waste of time. But still, it's always worth the effort to try. It's a somewhat pretty set of photos even if they aren't good photos.

Morale of the story is I think people should search for the beauty in unexpected places, such as parasite infested snails fighting for their life in the mid day summer sun. And to appreciate the small joys in life, it's okay to give in to temptation and indulge a little bit – even if it's just with a mouthful of cupcake.

In the end, my snails probably lived longer and happier lives because of me, even if the pastry might have given one of them a tiny tummy ache. We don't talk about diabetes Dave. He lived a fuller life then any of us shellless suckers ever have.