Operated by John-Riley Harper. Dedicated to archiving photography from Utah's underground scenes, as well as other personal projects.

6.27.2009
Tommy Atoll
I did this audio project with a bizarre but amazing homeless guy, Tommy Atoll. This is the result of editing down from two separate interviews about an hour long apiece. Haha. It was fun to try and make his hilarious, wandering spiels into a narrative. He needs to be famous! Actually, I guess he is, as he says he's donated 550 million dollars to charity from his album sales.


Tommy's Not Crazy!

For those fascinated by this guy, I have some other unedited short clips. After he talks up his music make sure to listen to it to see if it meets your expectations. :)


Tommy Likes Mormons


Tommy On Abortion


Tommy's Not a Rapist


Surfing Like Making Love


Male Model


Tommy got shot!


Tommy's worth 550 Million!


Tommy Live on Guitar!!!

People need to use samples of this dood in their techno music!

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6.24.2009
Element 11: Transformation
I was ready for it. I'll write up some narratives when I'm better rested. :) Ie, never.

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6.16.2009
Evolution at Wind Walker Ranch
Ninety photos in the set above. I'm either getting lazier or giving into the demands of others. My editing has gone to shit. People want more, more more. The vote is in and the decree is quantity over quality, although I'm a firm believer in the power of cutting down. Eliminating the zillions of blurry photos, or uninspired ones, or dismal failures full of boredom, or disgustingly biased and unrepresentative photos (yes it's true!) allows me to look better than I am. It certainly allows me to look better than others who post every single one of their "artistic masterpieces" - blurries, blackies, whities and all. But I should probably cut down to 50 like I was before. Next time I'll bring you all LESS, LESS, LESS!!!

So, I missed out on all of the truly cool, excellent events and opted for sleep instead. The main DJ act was The Spacemen (were The Spacemen?), who are supposedly humans who dress like freakish alien gargoylic aliens and wave their tendrilled fingers around like mad, to the beat, and appear very "alien." You'll not see any photographs of them from me! I also missed the main fire event up at the Wanderlust area, opting for sleep instead, oh those lovely z's. There was, assuming I can trust those who made me jealous, fire jumproping... as well as spinning and burning and dancing and flailing about. Cowboys and Indians made an entrance. And there was talk of finding teeny-bopper raverlettes and combining them with an equestrian for fun and perhaps profit. My main contribution was waking up the next morning, wandering around with a bag filled with colorful and lacy fabric, and enlisting some help in order to throw the said fabric over Clayton's geodesic dome. It was pretty. And sweet. And bitter. Sweet.

It is now time for resolutions. I've committed to resting the entire week so that I can pound my body into the ground and never stop shooting and shouting this weekend for e11. I'm hot and bothered and hopping mad at my laziness (but also happy). In vengeance, I'm gonna go crazy psycho machine pumping greased up steamy mad!

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6.04.2009
Desert Rocks Festival
You've heard of those fat shaking machines? They consist of a big rubber bands that are yanked left and right, jiggling the jiggly areas which vibrates the frustrating fat away. That way you can get fit while perusing TV, munching low-fat chocolate bars, and huffing down to the day job where you sweat behind screens for the remote controlled predator and kill Iraqis patriotically. We've all been there. But that lucky Goldilocks found the right temperature after only three tries. I can never find the comfy medium. Everything's either too much or too little. My own chocolate laxative relates to socializing. I want to be able to be social, but only when I want to be. And socialization, although I should know by now, leads to others reaching out to me rather than me reaching out to them. I mostly like the me reaching out. So, then, Goldilocks is either lonely - and calls everyone she knows in order to find something to do, or Goldilocks is swamped with the outgoing social searches of others. Last weekend I found myself swamped by the latter problem. So I ditched everyone and headed down in search of my own connections. It was a blast. I took a few pictures.

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