Gnumoon's Stuff

EVERYBODY PANIC ABOUT THE SWINE FLU!

I was playing with CS4 yesterday (read: cursing at it and trying to find things), and whipped this up for the panicked masses. Enjoy!

MerleFest - Day 3

What a day! I've been running (sometimes literally) since 10 am, and I'm just now sitting down to upload photos and gather my thoughts, my writing aided by the sweet sounds of Emmylou Harris on the Watson Stage. Lulled, really. After this busy day I might just drift off ...

As far as weather, it couldn't have been a more beautiful day - clear and hot. Uncharacteristically hot, in fact, resulting in many burned and sweaty festival-goers, myself included. I know the burn is bad because now that it's cooled off to the 70s I'm freezing. I'm not even going to look at it, that will just make it mad. 

The first thing on my shooting schedule was the New Generation Jam on Watson Stage. You know it's going to be a whole different kind of jam when the first song you hear is "You Shook Me All Night Long." I don't know what the bluegrass purists thought of that, but I can't complain. The set included members of Ollabelle, Cadillac Sky, Steeldrivers, Belleville Outfit and Farewell Drifters.

Then it was over to the Hillside stage for Scythian, and despite the heat, they put on a great set that included lots of energy and jumping around. At this point I would be disappointed if a show of theirs didn't. Also, I've never seen a crowd get so into "Hava Nagila." Come to think of it, I've never heard a stage show include "Hava Nagila."

After that was where my schedule got kind of insane, and I'm having to look through my files to even recall what bands I shot. It was Greencards followed by Tift Merritt, then Ollabelle, then David Bromberg. Whew! I can't really complain at all about my schedule - the busiest guys at MerleFest are as usual Sam Bush and Jim Lauderdale, who seemingly sit in with every group. (*edited to add: as I was writing that, Emmylou welcomed Sam to the stage with her. I wish I had that much energy.)

After a quick break it was back to the Hillside Stage for the much-anticipated "Album Hour" from The Waybacks and John Cowan. Last year it was Led Zeppelin's II, and rumor and speculation have surrounded the selection, from the plausible (St. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band) to the comically confounding (that Steve Martin was sitting in on banjo). 

The actual album was "Sticky Fingers" from The Rolling Stones, and it got the baking masses on their feet and cheering. Sam Bush sat in, and Emmylou Harris showed up to offer her vocals on "Wild Horses." I'm admittedly not the biggest Stones fan in the world, but that song is a personal favorite, and I put my camera down for a few moments and just took the performance in - it was beautiful. 

He's been out of the spotlight for a while due to health issues, but Doc Watson's set, "Docabilly," showed that he was still in fine form, as he played and joked and seemed to have a great time with lots of guests (you know, like Sam Bush).

Still to go tonight is David Bromberg again and my good subject, Sam Bush. I'm not saying I take a lot of pictures of him, but if that Native American belief that taking a photo steals part of one's soul turns out to be true, well, I owe him a big apology.

MerleFest Day 2

Fairly easy to say that the most-talked-about performance from last night was The Waybacks, Sam Bush and John Cowan continuing the Led Zeppelin lovefest from the past few years by breaking into "Kashmir" right before the end of the set on the Watson Stage. 

Bet that fuels speculation about what they'll cover during the Hillside Album hour today.

 

9:22 pm - Not many updates today due to crazy internet and an even crazier shooting schedule. We've seen The Super Jam, The Dixie Beeliners, John Cowan, Ollabelle, Wayne Henderson & Jeff Little, The Duhks, Mountain Heart with Tony Rice, and I'm getting set to shoot perennial favorites The Waybacks (with Special Guests). 

As usual, even though the radar was probably completely clear, there was a giant thunderstorm during Mountain Heart. They should put it on shirts ... "It Always Rains at MerleFest." Not the most effective marketing slogan, perhaps, but a very true statement. And it makes for amusing photos.

5:35 pm - The Duhks played over on Hillside Stage, and it is amazing to me how much they have changed in the past two years. Instead of being a group of people supporting the lead singer, they seem much more like a cohesive group now, equals onstage. With their new material drawing heavily on French, South American, and African influences, their older, more familiar work seems almost like a new flock covering the old Duhks. 

That said, I hope they always keep "Death Came a-Knockin'" on the setlist. 

2:32pm - The internet here is intermittent and wholly infuriating. 

Saw Cadillac Sky over on Hillside Stage - wow. Energy and hair aplenty, great set. More later, I have to get to the Watson Stage to shoot Ollabelle. 

11:44 - Just shot the Welcome Home Super Jam with the Duhks, Jim Lauderdale, and Peter Rowan. Also with the singer I always think of as "The singer with the incredible cheekbones who is neither Donna nor a Buffalo." I imagine she and Darius Rucker would meet, hug, and say "I feel your pain."

They are currently playing "In the Pines," and I overheard a 20-something tell his friend how great it was that the old guys would give a nod to the genius of Kurt Cobain and Nirvana.

Jean-Luc, can you help me out?

Merlefest 2009 - Day 1

12:34 am - Relaxing, photos uploading, getting ready for some sleep. Sleep that I'll need to get me through the rest of this weekend, as the schedule is fairly packed. 

Despite rumblings of ticket sales being way off, I was pleasantly surprised by the size of the crowd for Travis Tritt & Jerry Douglas. WIth a great Cabin Stage one-woman lead-in from Tift Merritt, the duo entertained with staples, new material and covers. They sat side by side on barstools and bantered back and forth more than acts usually do, and it was apparent that they were having as much fun as the audience, if not more. It was Tritt's first appearance at MerleFest, and he seemed genuinely happy to be there. 

Then it was over to see Scythian cap off the night in the dance tent - I don't recall MerleFest ever hosting a Thursday night dance, but it was very well-received. The crowd was energetic (and much more diverse in age than I'd anticipated), and managed to go from waltzes to jigs to hippie hip-swaying with little pause. And I categorized their sound incorrectly before, as it's less "Irish" and more "Euro-Gypsy-Mediterranean-Fusion than anything else. Yes, I made that name up. * 

* Also, a little thank-you from the photographer: drummers are very difficult to shoot, because they are generally enshrouded in their kits, tucked away as far away from the front of the stage as possible. At the dance tent, the drummer was prominently displayed at the front of the stage, given equal billing with the other band members and making him much easier to capture. More groups should do this.

Another photo note: the very low lighting in the dance tent made me appreciate how well-lit the Watson and Cabin stages are. My shots in the tent are dark and (gasp!) grainy, and look as gritty and sweaty as it was in there. At least it's an honest portrayal.

8:00 pm - The first day of Merlefest is always kinda low-key, in a nice way that gets you ready for the frenetic pace of the weekend. It starts in the afternoon instead of the morning, the crowds are light, and most of the first acts scheduled are hungry to perform and happy to be there. Such was the case with Scythian, the opening act on the Watson Stage. An Irish-ish band out of D.C., I'd been wanting to see them for a while after hearing good things after some other festivals. They did not disappoint - their energy and enthusiasm brings to mind a Guinness-infused version of the Avett Brothers, and they were thrilled to be opening the mainstage. Great set, and the crowd, though small, was very into it (there were several female superfan types dancing in the front row and belting out every word. I'll never get used to Americana groupies.). 

Following Scythian I shot the husband-wife group The Sibleys, who are fresh off winning the duets contest on "Prairie Home Companion." Lovely people, lovely songs, and seemingly very in love, which always brings a nice honesty to love songs on stage. 

Also regarding the Sibleys, another photographer was making a setlist and said, "This is the Siblings, right?" I said, "No, it's the Sibleys. They're a married couple." Him: "Siblings can't get married, not even in the South!" Me: "Well, I didn't say siblings, and even so, maybe they are someone else's siblings!"

Who's on first?

Then it was on to the Lovell Sisters, who make me feel very old these days, since I first shot them in 2006 and remember how young they seemed. 

Random thoughts:

- I've been working this festival 5 years, and know most of the people who run it. That doesn't mean I enjoy being introduced to new volunteers as "The photographer who has been here the longest" and who apparently "Shot her first MerleFest with a pinhole camera." I feel like Dennis in Monty Python ... "I'm not old!"

- I love MerleFest because the artists are so friendly and approachable. After I shot Scythian, their tour manager was talking to someone in my tent here, and saw my shots. She sent the lead singer in, and we looked through photos and shot the shit for 30 minutes or so. That just isn't really something you see happening at most shows. Also, the singer, Dan, reminded me a lot of my brother Geoff, who moved to the west coast and who I miss terribly. 

- At dinner I witnessed a rather large woman take 2 huge biscuits and dip them into a tub of ranch dressing, then yell at her children because they were not doing likewise, and un-ranched the biscuits were "so blaaaaand. It's what the raynch is there for!" It was hideously disgusting. Also, I'm fairly certain the ranch was provided for use with salad. 

She also called me out to her kids for not saying grace before I ate, and told them my food wouldn't taste as good as theirs, because it wasn't blessed. Apparently God's favor tastes like Hidden Valley. 

++++++

Enough with the whining! On to the festival.

I am packed up and ready to leave. I have more gear this year than ever before - imagine that. After 5 years, I finally feel like a real photographer.

I'll also be liveblogging here and at FestivalPreview.net - I'll try to link from one to the other in case anyone is interested. And Twittering - it'll be just like you're there, but without having to utilize the shuttles.

I can't believe this is my 5th year doing this. And I can't believe that in 2006 I did this 8 months pregnant. And that last year I left between sets, hiked up to my car, and pumped. What was I thinking? Even with the blogging and whatnot, it can't be much tougher this year!

OK, off to check all the gear one last time. Cheers!

Despite all my rage, I am still a non-confrontational weinie.

I have some toxic people in my life. I'm sure you do too. You know the type - people who just burrow under your skin and feed until they swell up like fat ticks, yet somehow never have the decency to just burst and go away. If only - sure, you'd get splattered disgustingly with your own blood, but at least they would be gone. Hitting up your hoodie with a Tide pen is a small price to pay, really.

So we all have these people, and there are three options we have in dealing with them: avoid, ignore, engage.
I almost always choose Avoid. I come up with excuses not to be around certain people, I change plans to just miss them, etc. For the most part, this is an effective tactic. I'm not a confronter, I'm not a fighter. I'm just not good at it  - no one in my family fights, no one in my family engages. We are a bunch of non-intervening weinies. We could have a family member snorting crack off a dead hooker in the living room while we were eating Sunday brunch in the dining room, but it might hurt their feelings if we said anything, so nothing would be said. We would go about our luncheon awkwardly, with worried furrows creasing our brows, then a few of us would quietly slip away and help dump the body in the river after weighing it down properly. The family that weighs together ...

The first time my husband observed this group avoidance technique (minus the actual dead prostitute) he was astounded. His family is the exact opposite - if there is even a glimmer of a problem with someone, that person is hounded with phone calls, emails, and in-person visits until they either straighten up and fly right or disown other members for a year or so. It's about 50/50 on which outcome occurs.
{As a Southerner, this method of dealing with one's family horrifies me. What if SOMEONE'S FEELINGS GOT HURT AND IT WAS AWKWARD AT CHRISTMAS???}

Husband and I have come to the conclusion that the most helpful tactic is likely somewhere in between these two extremes. Deal with some things, let some thing resolve on their own without interference.

But I digress. I'm not good at confronting a toxic person or standing up for myself, because it's not something that I know how to do. I know I get walked on lot, and it's hurt me more than once professionally, because lord knows I'm no kind of contract negotiator. (My uncle even jokes about the "Leila Clause," which states I will go above and beyond for any project, provided I am not compensated properly.)

Damn, I digresseded again. Give me a break, I only had 2 hours of sleep last night. Damn allergies (3rd digression, 4th is FREE!).

So I avoid and ignore. Toxic people will never just leave you alone. They always have to get in little snitty jabs, tear at you with their nasty pointy little teeth, leave those tiny cuts you might not be able to see, but damn do they hurt when you try to clean them out.

The one thing the real Toxics in my life have in common is The Subtle. The things they say are small, seemingly innocuous to the uninitiated, yet have very pointed meaning. Example: about 10 months after I had Pookie I decided to get off my fat ass and lose some weight. It was difficult, but I worked hard to eat right and work out, and was (and am) proud of the results. The comment I got was, "It's so sad that you can't breastfeed anymore because you chose to lose all that weight."  grrr.
{FYI: I lost weight in a controlled and healthy way, and I breastfed my baby until she was 19 months old and decided to stop on her own, thankyouverymuch.}

But see how it works? If you call them out on it ("Are you saying I am unhealthy and putting my wants before the needs of my child?") then you get that big-eyed look of feigned innocence and surprise ("Oh no! Of course not - why would you ever think that was what I meant?"). If you let it slide, then score one for them, because they totally just said that you put your own wants before the needs of your child, and you didn't even deny it! Double-sided, no-win situation.

It's the kind of thing that makes the ol' blood boil, but what's the point of retaliation? Start a fight? What good will that do - as I pointed out, I'm not much of a fighter. And if I was? What good would that do? I'd just end up feeling badly about any confrontation, like I should have taken the high road. Again. Damn, I'm so tired of taking the high road.

I have fantasties during spin class, usually during really hard climbs or those damned quad isolations, of just letting it all bubble over. Of just letting a comment be The Comment that broke the camel's back. I entertain fantasies of standing up from the table, upending my tray of food and just laying it all down in a Dark Phoenix-esque rage that leaves bystanders trembling and small children cowering behind their mothers' skirts. I'd never do it, of course, but it sure does make the miles melt away on that bike.
My rage is impotent and self-contained.

DJ has an even better way of dealing with these people, a way that is so insanely simple and beautifully impossible for me to fathom. He ignores them completely.
Sometimes I'll tell him the latest affront while making dinner, and I'll get worked up and angry talking about it, and he'll say, "How does that affect you, really? So-and-so is just a sad little person who takes jealous pleasure in clawing others down to her level." Then he'll add, with the zen-like centeredness of a true guru, "And she's a big bitch. You should ignore that shit."

A smart man, my husband. If only it were that easy for me.
People can only affect you if you let them. Ignoring is the most powerful tool in my arsenal, because like the playground bully, if you ignore it long enough, surely it will give up and go elsewhere. Right? RIGHT?

For now I'll just keep my trap shut and use their pettiness to fuel my spin bike.

*  - Reading over this post, it all seems very self-centered and small to even worry about. There are real problems in the world, and this isn't one of them. I'm not going to take the post down, though, because it was cathartic to write it out, and re-reading made me see how silly it all is.

** - Why are women like this? Very few guys are just catty - they might be assholes, but they'll mostly be upfront about it. I think I like that tactic more.

The Block "A" Cake Project, Day 2

Ok, Ok ... I gotta finish this post!

So day 2 ...
The foam body of the "A" was considerable higher than the cake, so I had to cut off extra parts and reassemble them so the heights all matched.

Then I iced it all up, nice and purty. For scale, that's a full-sized basketball.

Then it was time to add the gold icing. I'm a graphic designer at Appalachian State University, and I used to be the licensing director for the school. As such, I am VERY particular about the school's OFFICIAL colors, which are Pantone 116 and black. Good ol' 116 gets very abused - generally people err on the "too green" side, and it annoys the hell out of me. So I spent much time getting the color *just* right.


Then it was time for the lettering. My backwards icing technique didn't work, so I ended up just painting it on lightly and then going over it with icing. Not suave, but functional.


The final product turned out like this:
After some difficulty getting the final product to work, all was well with the shoot. No one slipped and dropped it, or shoved it in anyone's face. This is just a test shot, but it gives the overall impression of what we were going for nicely:
Then they ate it. The end.

-----
Also, I consider myself a decent baker of fancy cakes. Not Ace of Cakes fancy, but decent. I have been mistaken. I have a new friend, a mother (of triplets!) and a graphic designer, whose Facebook photos I was perusing the other day, when I saw it. It's a freaking My Little Pony cake. It was build on a welded pipe skeleton frame, fleshed out in Rice Kristpie treats and cake, and then covered in purple fondant. 2 feet tall, and in 3-freaking-D. I am shamed. I may never bake again. (I'm not posting a photo of it because then I'd have to admit to her how jealous I am of it's cakey awesomeness)
Or I may totally steal her welding idea and see what I can do with it.

The Block "A" logo cake project: Day 1

THIS IS MY EVILEST POST EVER - #666. MWA HA HA HA HA. So it is of course about ... CAKE! (white flour is rather evil-ish) The duck photo is from a GIS for "evil."

As Elizabeth Needham would say, on to the post! (eh, give me a break. It's late, and Needham was the only segue I could come up with between "post" and "evil." Could have gone with Peter Annet, I suppose.)

Aaanyway, at work they needed a large Appalachian logo cake for a photo shoot. Guess who opened her big mouth and volunteered? Only needed one guess, eh?

So here is the anatomy of a bigass cake, from the first cut to the finished product. It may or may not be interesting, but I took some time out of the office to construct it, so I have to prove to my coworkers and boss it was indeed the production I claimed it was.
I'd estimated it would take 4 hours to complete - yeah, double that. 8 hours of caketasticness.

One trip to Wal*Mart with one of our photo gurus, one fumbling attempt to use the state credit card, an armload of icing, cake mix, icing tips, and assorted party favors later, I was ready to get started. Erskine will be confused when he gets the bill, methinks.

This big boy (the cake, not Erskine) had to be able to hold its own in a photograph with 8 people, so it was 18 inches at the base, 26 inches tall, and three inches deep. That is a lot of cake. So instead of making the 10 recipes of mix, I opted to only make the serifs, the one on the top and the two on the bottom, out of cake, and use floral foam covered with icing to construct the body of the letter.

(Also, ps - could I BUY some white balance in these photos??)
The template form was made from several printouts that comprised the whole logo. I truly hate the bilateral symmetry of this thing, because ever little mistake will be on display in relation to the other side. Grrr.

The floral foam was extremely difficult to shave into the proper shape. I started with an exacto knife, then went to a paring knife, and ended up sawing back and forth (Pooks would say "backa backa!") with a serrated steak knife. Then I shaped the sides slightly to make it look more cakelike and less wedgelike.

During this step, the cakes were in the oven. I have omitted that photo because the light from the flash revealed that some serious cleaning needs to be done in there. Let's be honest. That ain't ever happening. It was 3 cake mixes divided between three small pans, in the hope that the cake would rise to the same level as the floral foam (approx. 3 inches). Wishful thinking. More on that later.

Also while the cakes were baking, I cut a board for the cake to sit on for the photo, and covered it in foil. Then I plopped icing on the board and affixed the foam form to it. Icing is basically composed of sugar, high fructose corn syrup and lard, so it makes great glue. mmmm. lardpoxy.
   
The stuff in the background of this shot is another project I'm working on and have been meaning to blog about for a week now. Perhaps someday I will. Until then you'll just have to run the photos through photoshop and try to find spoilers to the epic upcoming story. Buncha fanboys, I swear.

After icing the foam (much easier than anticipated), I removed the cakes and set them out to cool. Tip: if you ever bake cakes, just do yourself a favor and buy the Wilton pans. (There are of course more uppity, spendy, snootified versions, but Wilton works just as well.) The cakes turn out of the pans sooooo smoothly. I haven't had to glue the decimated pieces of a layer back together since getting them for Pook's birthday cake.

 While the cakes cooled it was time to mix icing color. I realized with some horror that I was out black food coloring. rut-roh. (I usually do keep black food dye on hand, and can't exactly remember why I was out. Have I made any of you an inky and/or Stygian confection lately?)

So I attempted to mix my own. It was an unholy activity, truly deserving to be mentioned in the 666th post of evil doom. Green -- blue -- red -- orange -- more green -- more green -- all the green -- 

I'm not *technically* a doctor, but I named this color "putrid bile vomit pus, with clots." See also: choleglobin. (Note: I have no idea what color choleglobin actually is, I just recall that it refers somehow to pigmentation of bile. Many years have I yearned to build it off "glob" for the world's most awesome Bingo in Scrabble.)
But I digress. Don't eat the black(ish) icing. Ever.

The block A logo has a handwritten "Mountaineers"  right on the center of the A, and it is a really specific font. I knew it was going to be a bear to replicate. So I took the template and flipped it over, then taped wax paper to it, traced the wording in "black" ink, and set the word to the side to harden. The thought was that I'd flip the paper over onto the cake, leaving the word behind.

Then I got nervous because if it broke during transfer I'd be up the creek. So I made 5 more of the backwards words, and even stuck one in the freezer to see if it would harden better. It didn't matter, as the backwards transfer method didn't work at all, but hell, I wouldn't know that for another 16 hours or so.

Up next: Part 2!