May 2020 09

Day 57

Posted In Blog,The world

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 2020 07

Richard

Posted In Blog,The world

 

(Photo: Richard Picton by Richard Picton, circa 1982)

 

He made money being a photographer. And he was a fucking great photographer.

But his job was being a foul-mouthed hooligan cigarette-devouring drunk.

Some people are larger than life. And Richard, who died yesterday, was certainly one of those people.

My first advertising partner and I worked with him right out of the gate in our young careers. It was the late 90s and working on a beer account at that time with Richard has probably ruined me to this day. Nothing will top those times in my life and career. We were young, cocky, and working with the great Richard Picton. The hooligan.

He showed us the ridiculous world that Advertising was, and could be, for us as we embarked on our careers. He took his craft very seriously, but the rest of it was a show. He peeled the curtain back for us and showed us that we could belong at that Carnival too. I was a kid from a punch-clock background from Rexdale. And he slipped me the magic password.

He threw a party that year. A fetish party. It’s over 20 years later and everyone who was there still talks about it. And people who weren’t there say they heard about it.

At his photography studio. Come dressed as your fetish. It is a debaucherous blur to me. I just remember loud music, writhing bodies, strobe lights, and all of us showed our alter egos til the sun came up.

He had a camera set up in the bathroom. There was a cable release. None of us thought there was really film in it so we took photos liberally every time we went into the bathroom. In twos sometimes. And threes. And you get the picture.

And so did he. Because there indeed was film in it.

He always said he was keeping all the contact sheets and negatives from that night for ‘safe keeping’. One day he might pull it out and blackmail all of us.

Last summer I was lucky enough to run into Richard on the roof of The Pilot.

Still the same fun-loving hooligan. Older now and who isn’t. I’m probably older now than he was when he met me. We talked of old crazy times, but mainly new crazy times.

He still saw the business for what it was. A Carnival. And now I had the years behind me to have experienced the ride, too.

He was still just a big kid, with wild wide eyes, exciting stories to tell, and an eagerness to hear some. And something even more rare to find today, something you can’t learn in my industry cause you’re just born with it – a giant heart.

Hard to believe it’s stopped beating.

 

 

 

 

 

May 2020 06

Day 54

Posted In Blog,The world

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 2020 05

Just posting this so everyone scrolling by will think I worked out.

_ #isolation2020 #TheCovid #lies #fridgelympics #Parkdale

Instagram @henrysperson

May 2020 03

There is a mouse in my apartment. I’ve named her Yvette. She’s evading the trap I’ve set out for her. In fact, the two of us made eye contact yesterday as she peered out from behind an appliance. 

I wrote a bad poem about her. Yes, I am losing my mind. 

See her here (link).

 

She mocks me from behind the stove.

Like some stand against patriarchy.

But she misunderstands me. I don’t want her to cook.

In fact, I am the one feeding her.

Leaving out morsels for her at night when she isn’t afraid to come out.

Trying to temp her into the my very humane trap.

Yvette.

Come out. Show me your true self.

Your chariot awaits to deliver you to a beachfront property. Feel the sand between your paws.

For now I can only stare down the alley way between the wall and steel fortress where she hides.

Waiting, waiting.

Waiting for my Yvette.

 

 

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