It has been said that those trying to get greater insight into the works of Ansel Adams are stymied by his inability to keep good records of his photo projects. Things like the actual date or location a photograph was taken were never recorded with precision leaving one to guess about both. Following in the footsteps of such a master photographer, I can say that I, too, have successfully mastered the art of not recording basic information, which leaves a blank expression on my face when I look at old photos I have taken, insensible as to when or where they were taken beyond the foggiest notion. So here is another example. A punk band on stage taken somewhere in Florida a long time ago. That’s about all there is to know about the image other than the singer seems to be covered in blood or, at least, a reasonable facsimile. And I can almost taste the overheated stench of the hall, acrid with cigarette smoke, stale beer, and sweat, bodies crushing in together, loud music blasting. Anarchy, indeed.
The image was dredged up from the slide archive.