*ooof*: Armitage in Context

Second week in a row that I am posting on a Wednesday. The weekly *ooof* has not moved its regular slot, dear readers. However, in the light of the new Hobbit trailer that had been announced for yesterday, I decided to postpone my *ooof*ing to today in order to let you untwist your knickers before I hit you with another *ooof*. Well, of course I hadn’t reckoned with l’Armitage again – who made a memorable appearance in a small, little online magazine that has probably seen a sharp rise in page impressions over the last 72 hours. A clever move, Click! Pleas suggestions for an emergency *ooof* appeared in my notifications. So back into the archive again, old, regular *ooof*, and out with a semi-emergency *ooof*.

Armitage answers in riddles
at Pre-Hobbit press event
Image by clickonline.com

What have we got here? Is it a bird, is it a plane? No, it’s a dog, judging by the language. Eh. No. Wrong. But you see, the photo leaves me confused. Not least because of the slightly dishevelled subject in it. Overgrown stubble? Tousled mane? Eyes slightly too bright? Oh yes, all the signs of… I leave that up to your very private imagination, ladies. But let’s look at it. Mr Armitage is being photographed in a bland, generic room. Terracotta curtains and a wide expanse of windows are pictured behind him. Cushions of a sofa are visible to his left and right. The photograph has been very nicely composed, placing the subject in the middle and picturing him in a aesthetically pleasing symmetrical pose.

Because the photographer is shooting against the light, the fill flash has been activated, illuminating the face of the subject. If you compare this image with the other existing photo from the same occasion (“meow”), you can see that the photographer did not fire the the flash there – subsequently the face of the subject is left much too dark. The flash is probably responsible for the stark contrast between the stubble and the skin, although thankfully there is no backdrop that unsightly shadows would harshly stand out from. However, this picture has a nicely spontaneous feel to it which makes it appear documentary in style: It is not polished, it is not overly posed and cleaned-up, it feels really momentous, literally. Was Mr Armitage prepared for it, though? And how the hell can it be that the photographer focussed on a mere piece of paper and ignores the gorgeousness that lurks behind, leaving Armitage slightly fuzzy and out-of-focus? Hm? Seriously. This is confusing.

Luckily we have a bit of context to fall back on (Yes, Barthes, Sontag, Lacan and Benjamin are calling, but relax, ladies, I won’t hit you with them today… Let’s just enjoy the pure titillation of this image, and not disect its meaning to death. Damn those spoil-sports theorists ;-)). And thus we know that the picture is meant as a graphic representation of a question that Mr A was asked by an interviewer at a promo event. And hence we also know that the location for this shoot was a generic hotel room, the occasion was not a photo op, but a visually unrecorded event, and the photographer was one of the journalists present at the interview. He has done a good job and he had the use of a good camera (the nice dof indicates that), but nonetheless this is a perfect example of a picture that was taken and not made.

Taken and not made? Is there a difference? Yes, there is, apart from what you may perceive as the idiomatic misuse of the verb in the phrase “to make a picture”. This term is by and large replacing the previously used “to take a picture”. And the reason for that is slightly academic and harks back to critical theory (no escaping that today – I need that as an antidote to the rather visceral reaction I am experiencing to yesterday’s surfacing of the interview pics, the Hobbit DOS trailer and RA’s cutie-cute intro to the trailer). “To take a picture” basically implies the uninvolved “grabbing” of a slice of life, a mere mirroring of a real-life scene. Among photographers is widely interpreted as displaying a negative attitude towards the process of photographing, in the sense that it subconsciously associates “stealing” or “appropriating”. The phrase reflects the previously generally accepted idea that photography is documentary in nature. Despite the long established “pretensions” of photography as an art form, it was thanks to the ground-breaking theoretical writings of thinkers like Barthes, Sontag, Berger etc in the second half of the 20^th century that photography was finally acknowledged to be more than just a visual recording of a given subject or object but a conscious creative process that demands more than a simple capturing of a scene. Therefore, the phrase “to make a picture” implies a deliberate decision of the image creator to photograph something. It takes into account creative choices such as size of image, framing and composing, focussing, timing and even the decision to shoot b/w or colour. It places the emphasis of the process of photographing onto the creator of the image and not on the reality she photographs, or the hardware she uses to do so. A photograph is made by the photographer, not by a camera. And the worst insult you could ever throw at a photographer is the well-meant but utterly offensive little compliment “Your photos are great. You must have a great camera!” No! *I* make great pictures; my camera merely takes them!

But despite my backhanded compliment to the photographer of this little gem, I am grateful for the peek at a tousled, tired (?) Armitage. This is Armitage in non-photo-op-form – wearing a casual shirt, allowing us an unrestricted view of his neck. We get a couple of slender digits in full frontal focus and an enticing glimpse of Armitage’s casual wardrobe. Oh, to be that little red button on that wrist… Where is the chunky watch, though? The luscious Armitage back-comb makes another appearance and is in full flow now, with some carefully placed locks obstinately sticking up. “Not quite as polished as you think”, they say, with the stubble chiming in “I am off duty, I just let it all go grow.” As for the quote – well, girls, Guylty almost had a heart attack when she saw her own coinage *nearly* written in his hand. Richard, it’s *ooof*, not “woof”!!!

But anyway, listen up, readers, this is what really happened. You heard it here, first!

Whoever said that being famous was easy? Dammit, working on the weekend was a real bummer. He had of course known that actors had bad working hours – working on stage in the evening when others went out to enjoy their free time. But that had changed when he switched into TV and film work. And if he was honest, he had really liked the regular routine of film schedules. Even if there were long hours involved, he always had the weekend off, time to recharge the batteries and switch his mind off a bit. He hadn’t reckoned with his increasing celebrity. Promo occasions were taking up an increasing amount of time of his schedule nowadays.

He yawned as he stretched a last time before getting up. He was still exhausted from the jet lag from his recent flight back from LA to good old Blighty. Press meetings on a Saturday morning, for fuck’s sake! He groaned. And he had to get from his leafy, increasingly poshified, quiet London suburb to the central London hotel where the press gang were waiting for him. At least there was going to be less traffic than on a normal work day. – Their normal work days. Not mine. He grimaced.

Damn, it was already 8.30 am. He’d have to get a move on to be there at 10 am. Shower. Shit. The jet lag had fucked up his regular shaving schedule. He felt his stubble with his hand. A bit thicker than usual. He peered at himself in the bathroom mirror. That bit of stubble above his lip was turning into a veritable handlebar moustache. Fuck it. No time. Thank God this was going to be a press meet only. No photography. No styling needed. Another quick comb through his growing hair with his hand, and he was ready. Now, for breakfast he’d have to rely on the hotel to provide some pastries and a pot of tea.

– – –

“Did you really start your acting career in a circus?” The bland colour schemes in corporate hotels really are not very conducive to staying alert. How do the suits manage to stay awake in such surroundings? He tried to stifle a yawn but knew that his chin wobbled with the effort of suppressing his body’s need for fresh air. “What characteristics do you share with Thorin?” Shit, did I just nod off? “How was working with Peter Jackson?” He had answered these questions a thousand times. “How do you rate yourself on the open-ended Richard Armitage scale of sexual hotness?” “Whot???”, he barked as his head jerked up, wide awake all of a sudden. “A question from your fans on tumblr. Are you hot or not?” He laughed. That was really one of the searing, central questions of 21st century cinematography. He eyeballed the journalist. The bloke looked rather normal, actually. Hm. He had to answer this nicely non-committally, with a bit of mystery, a bit of humour. Was what he was thinking too forward? No, they would know he was being impishly mischievous. Totally his style. “Gimme that piece of paper!”, he growled. His hands were shaking when he wrote his answer. He held up the paper and looked at the camera, trying hard to smile innocently. But a little snark escaped the corner of his mouth…

All text © Guylty at me + richard armitage, 2013. Please credit when using excerpts and links. Images and video copyrights accrue to their owners.

~ by Guylty on October 2, 2013.