Friday night, Peter the German photographer - who’d just completed a grueling three-week shoot for us - took me, my gf, my art director and his wife out to dinner at Matsuhisa.
Peter also brought along his digital artist, Larry. Peter only gets to spend about a hundred days a year at home with his family in Dusseldorf. Rest of the time he’s traveling all over the world shooting the most amazing pictures of sheet metal, glass and rubber. As of now he’s considered to be among the top handful of car photographers in the world, commanding day rates in the five-figure range. But Larry’s the closest thing he has to a wife.
I’m not exaggerating, Larry goes wherever Peter goes. Peter’s pretty heavy on the aftereffects. As he explain it, the photo shoot's only 40% of the work. Most of the magic is done with a beefed-up Mac. You’ll flip through his portfolio and stop at a gorgeous photo of a Ferrari parked in front of a Postmodern villa at dusk. But the sky was photographed at a desert in Spain, the villa was located in Italy, and the car was shot in Germany. Larry combined all of the separate elements into a single stunning image.
I’m not boring you with this, am I?
Long story short. Finally got to eat me some Kobe beef (Quite good, but mostly hype. The red meat version of “Chicago.”) Seated at the next table was Rose McGowan, her current un-Marilyn Manson-esque boyfriend, and two guys who seemed gay but tried to mask it by escalating their voices every time they discussed whether you could put cunnilingus into a prenup, or how they wouldn’t fuck one of Rose's friends because “the bitch is fat.”
Peter then pulled something out of his jacket and my ass was mesmerized…
The Sony Ericsson P800. As far as destiny goes, it must be mine. Even though its carriers are T-Mobile, Cingular and AT&T, which all have shitty LA coverage. Jesus, I just posted a picture of a cellphone on my online journal … how extremely Asian of me. Must compensate with a buttocks shot of Rose McGowan...
Ah, much better.