Tim Soter… blog.

I was listening to an interview with Broken Bells yesterday on Soundcheck on WNYC; Broken Bells is project comprised of James Mercer (lead singer of The Shins, above) and Danger Mouse.  I photographed The Shins for Rolling Stone a few years ago and had a fantastic goofy time.  Now I had people tell me I looked like James several times before actually meeting him so while I was at the shoot putting my camera together, I kept my face turned away from him and asked, “Hey James, when people say that you look like someone, who do they say you look like?”  “I don’t know” he replied, “but I look like you.”  Then we moved on to Kevin Spacey.

I shot in a tight space just six feet away from the reception desk in the Rivington Hotel.  James was role-playing a therapist, taking notes while the rest of the band (three guys) squeezed in on a not-too-wide leather chez lounge.  They were all lying on their backs, freely associating quite loudly while James nodded and wrote it all down.  Guest were checking in (people who had no idea who The Shins are) while bandmates Marty and Jesse were yelling things that are listed below (see “Dr.” Mercer’s notes.)  The Hotel was not happy.  I’ve never laughed harder while shooting.

A year or two after that I ran into Marty (who is no longer with the band) out in Seattle at the SubPop 20th Anniversary festival and had a chat with him.  He admitted seeing me from across the lawn and mistaking me for James (and this is someone he would see every day.)

The photograph above points to our similarities but I think more to our differences.  And my strange bent fingers.

Polaroid SX-70 Sonar (auto-focus disabled) and expired Time Zero film.

These posted scans are references, the actual Polaroids have such subtlety, the palettes of the two are different in part due to the age of the film – you can scan this, rephotograph this or reproduce this but you will never be able to recreate the quality of the image on the surface of the print.

A few photos from a job I shot for Adidas yesterday.

This is also to let you know that I don’t sit in my lair all day over-intellectualizing and articulating the process – nothing’s more engaging than shooting!

I’ve slowly become somewhat obsessed by the ‘before and after’ corresponding to the birth of the internet and ultimately what boils down to analog vs. digital time periods.  Recently I found myself somewhat profoundly connecting with a scene from ‘Crocodile Dundee’ (1986) where the lead character finds himself trapped with the locals late at night in a NYC bar.  Having lived in New York, pre-digital era, I was reminded of what that experience felt like.  The doors might as well been locked because without cell phones, the people in the bar were your cast and crew for the evening; the deck you were being dealt from and you had to make something out of what (who) was there.  This environment had the potential to force you into conversations or situations that you might not have expected you’d be involved in.  There was an un(der)appreciated freedom to being truly unreachable and this wonderful feeling is probably best documented unintentionally in Hollywood movies of the time.  With today’s digital disconnect, one may all too easily find themselves pressing a magic button to “phone a friend” instead of engaging in a conversation with your barstooled neighbor.  And while the argument could be made that one could choose to leave their devices at home, who would?  What a paradox – by disconnecting from your portable communication device you have a higher probability of truly connecting with someone.  Relating this to the creative process, often times a lot more creativity can generated within parameters (“you have to make X within this radius, with these items, in this amount of time.”)  When one has limitless possibilities it’s easy to get stymied, lazy or simply overwhelmed.

I’d like to say that I’m simply working to figure out what systems work best for me, so I can be happy (and connected) and make the best work that I can make – that I’m not making a value judgment.  But that’s not really true.  I’ve spent a good deal of time excitedly documenting people who make things and contribute culturally.  I believe that cultural life is richer when people are truly connected and when there are parameters and hierarchies; when artists try to best each other without the constant distractions of remixed digital nostalgia. I have a vested interest in what the new guard generates, I want the bar to be just as high.

Currently I’m making decisions on how to present a body of work I made which documents NYC nightlife from 1994-2001, the period just before the internet and digital technology starting changing the idea of subcultures, presence and connectivity.  More on that project as I develop it but this is definitely a lead in.