Those seeking fresh perspective on Hurricane Katrina would do well to peruse the views of a Louisiana lenslinger by the name of Turd Polisher. It was two Septembers ago this veteran photog sat down and pounded out an unflinching account of the agony and inaction that then gripped his beloved Gulf Coast. Rick Portier, had found his voice. Since then he’s used that toxic tongue and a lifer’s eye to excoriate the many gas-bags and gang-bangers he puts on the news every night. Sounds familiar, really. At once taken with and tormented by a job that never stops, the Polisher seeks healing by soaking nightly in the written word. The resulting posts seethe with street-cred eloquence that‘s impossible to fake, wether he’s weighing in on the audacity of housecats, or simply riffing on his charismatic kid. Give him a visit and you’ll be glad you did as I am every time I go to his site, which is damn near daily. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Just because Portier and I are both southern photog bloggers on the edge, we got a little mutual admiration society goin’ on here. Mayhaps. But if one can’t link to the things he likes, than what’s the use of referring to one’s self in third person anyway. Hmm? Am I right? Hello? Is this thing on?
Saturday, September 01, 2007
The Wryest of Lifers
Those seeking fresh perspective on Hurricane Katrina would do well to peruse the views of a Louisiana lenslinger by the name of Turd Polisher. It was two Septembers ago this veteran photog sat down and pounded out an unflinching account of the agony and inaction that then gripped his beloved Gulf Coast. Rick Portier, had found his voice. Since then he’s used that toxic tongue and a lifer’s eye to excoriate the many gas-bags and gang-bangers he puts on the news every night. Sounds familiar, really. At once taken with and tormented by a job that never stops, the Polisher seeks healing by soaking nightly in the written word. The resulting posts seethe with street-cred eloquence that‘s impossible to fake, wether he’s weighing in on the audacity of housecats, or simply riffing on his charismatic kid. Give him a visit and you’ll be glad you did as I am every time I go to his site, which is damn near daily. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Just because Portier and I are both southern photog bloggers on the edge, we got a little mutual admiration society goin’ on here. Mayhaps. But if one can’t link to the things he likes, than what’s the use of referring to one’s self in third person anyway. Hmm? Am I right? Hello? Is this thing on?
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1 comment:
Thanks for the kind words. Hope there's some tragedy half-way between us -- say northern Georgia. I'll bring the Big Raggedy sat truck and the boudin, you bring your lens and a bottle of Makers. We'll have a grand old time.
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