Category Archives: Lomography

100 Posts & Thank You

Inevitably, we would be wandering typically rainy downtown Portland, and run into someone we knew. Usually, it was someone impossible, someone we hadn’t seen in years, or was a little famou-ish. My father coined the phenomenon as “big town, small city”, meaning we had all the marks of a city but with the feel of a small town, where you might stop and talk in the middle of the road outside the feed store.

For Eddie and I, this is our 100th collective post on Bear and Shark. We started in May 2011 with no solid plans, only the need to share projects, drawings,ideas and stories over a vast distance. Along the way our projects grew as we; furnished houses with recycled things, we reclaimed newspaper boxes, ate weird fruit and tried to bring analogue back.

By far the best part of the whole experience has been the ability to share our “art and travel” on global scale. Each time I see the certain portions of the map light up, I think of all the amazing people we know and how lucky we are to share our project with them. The internet is amazing.In Norway- I see Ina and Nat,  Canada-Brenda and Greg/my countless relatives, Belgium-Alex, Australia- the Manly crew and cousin, Spain- family, UK & South America- old friends, Singapore-Brendon and everyone in the US. As for Bulgaria…well, we’re still trying to figure that one out.

Knowing that you are reading became the reason to write. The reason to get up at 6 or 7am (way too often). The end result is a project that is so much bigger than we could have imagined.

Over the last year and a half the world becomes so much smaller, it no longer seems like a grey metropolitan of strangers staring at the ground, but a patchwork of friends.So I guess its all a round about way of saying “Thank you”.

Below is a map of who has checked out Bear&Shark in the last 90 days.

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Upcoming projects; a new layout to the site, no more silly ads, Eddies taking out christmas consumerism and I’m opening up a New Zealand home distillery.

Feel free to email us with feedback, Shark-seabarnhart@gmail.com, Bear- barnheart@gmail.com

The Frontier of Then

The Keeper

As far as time goes, I have no idea. This early, my brain struggles to gather the usual information. I stumble half blind around the tent, tripping over the boot prints, which are hard and frozen into the sand.With an unrationalized urgency we pack our camp, fearing an imaginary band of wrathful locals, coming in the early hours of light, to lynch us as beach squatters. More than fear, its an attitude of conjured respect for those who live here, in the middle of nowhere. Out before first light.

I am beyond disoriented, still fighting off body tremors from last nights sleep in inadequate equipment. Early in the winter, I would have hated it, by now I welcome it, so much so it almost warms me up. Almost.

The boys make a run down the sandy road to the car.I manage a few steps, followed by a pair more. As my momentum builds, I enter the clearing and stop dead in the icy track. At that moment, as the first rays of light broke over jagged mountains, I saw one of the most majestic creatures known to man. The filtered light radiated its golden mane, its very presence warmed my rebellious bones. I started to laugh, like I never had before.

Miniature. Pony.

Blocking my exit. The gardian of the wave. The keeper of the shred.

(None of the pictures are touched up or messed with, other than converting to digital from print. The “red effect” was managed with a variable ISO film.)

Street Art- Wellington

 

I had forgotten the feeling, but I remembered the excitement . The moment Linzay hands me the package of photographs and I fumbled, trying to remember how to get it open without tearing right through everything. Actually waiting for something felt so strange. Making it worse, or better depending on how you look at is, was the fact that I really had no idea how any of it was going to turn out. Mostly, because I didnt really know what I was doing.

I had waited 6 months for these pictures. The little rolls stacked up in the glass cupboard, adorned in hand written notes. “Exposed” is what they said. The packages of film had traveled around New Zealand with me all winter, from frozen surf trips to city tromps. Born of little cardboard boxes my brother had given me for Christmas, I decided to document almost everything this year with tape and film. Which turned out to be a bad call when I found out exactly how much film cost to develop on a small island, let alone when you’re trying to process relatively rare medium format film.

“Stop the car!” I yelled at the driver. It was pretty pointless to yell, considering we had already reached our destination. Still, I ran the three blocks back to get the shot of a massive dog, painted high on an industrial building. I didnt even take notice of who pieced it, hoping it would come out in the print, naturally it didnt. Somehow it seemed to typify Wellingtons street art scene; bright, playful and sometimes funny stuff, all crammed into otherwise ugly alleys. The city seemed to bustle with art and music.

I could tell it was going to take me a while to get through this stack.