photo by Jon Wiederhorn
In magic, it's important that the hand be quicker than the eye. The opposite often applies in photography, a medium in which the mind need to anticipate what's coming up before the finger clicks on the the trigger. It's kind of like being a good athlete or surviving on the battlefield. What you see isn't enough, and can often be deceptive. To thrive, it's essential to rely on instinct, experience and an indefinable sixth sense.
In his latest submission to "The Eye of a Clown," Slipknot percussionist Shawn Crahan chooses a grisly photo to explains how a good shot sometimes comes when you least expect it, and only if you're ready when the image reveals itself. Click "more" to see "Clownhead" and read Crahan's comments.
This is a day in the life of being what I am and I remember this very clearly. I really, really work as hard as I can to be able to take my camera everywhere I go. If I could, I'd have it while I'm at the grocery store, I'd have it when I'm having sex, I'd have it while I'm driving the car. I just try to make a habit of having it everywhere in case the epiphany hits. This particular day I was rewarded.
I'm very infamous for finding other showers at venues. I have people that work with me who help me get my after show clothes and everything I need to take a shower -- shampoo, conditioner, soap, towell -- and I'll walk right offstage and right into this area that's way, way, way away from everyone else. Because there's just too much bulls--t talk going on about the show, and I don't give a f--k. I do the best I can, and if I screwed up or something wasn't right, I don't want to reflect on what everyone has to say. I want to reflect on what I think and I say. So I isolate myself.
This particular day, I get into this cold-ass bathroom, I had my camera on me and I had no idea what I was going to witness. I took off all my clothes, threw 'em down in the corner so you can't see them. I took my mask off and threw it right down on the floor. I got my nude-ass body in that little shower room there. I took a shower, came out. This is what I saw.
That's my mask, and this is why you need to break through all fundamental ideas keeping you away from having your camera with you at all times. I just felt this is the epitome of what I do. People want to give us shit about our masks and what we do and our art. But that thing's alive. That's a mask off the Iowa cycle. There was a pentagram on my face and a "6" carved in the forehead and the left brain was exposed. I would just cover myself in blood for that whole album cycle. Every show was like a living performance, and when I ripped off the living performance, it sat there and bled. It was so real and I had to rip that thing off my face to survive.
I did nothing here. The whole scenario is my every day world, and I feel this one picture -- although done on a really s---ty camera and probably not being the sharpest image -- this is life. It more or less is a crime scene photo. Everybody wants to be a rock star and everybody wants everything. Well, this sums up my life -- cold, wet, tired, beat down, hurt. But at the same time it's beautiful, clean, deadly and dangerous. It's everything and then some and I feel very fortunate to have gotten this photo. And to me it's another experiment of absolutely not knowing what's going to happen in the next second and having the ability to capture it when it shows its face, and also having the instincts to say, "This is something I need to get."
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