Skatepark
Met up with a local photographer today named Maria and after talking a while, we decided to head downtown and try to find something interesting to photograph. A guy named Donald stopped us as we were walking and asked us about our cameras. Said his father was a staff photographer for the Toledo Blade back in the day. He was very shy, and acted as if it had been a huge step for him just to say hi to us. But as we talked to this friendly stranger I could see glimpses of another, almost manic, individual. I don’t know if he was drunk, but he had that same kind of dried saliva stuff I so often see on drunks when they stop me to talk. It was interesting hearing about his father, but then he started talking about how he hated Mexicans. I remember at that very moment my eyes glazing over and the sounds coming out of his mouth changing from words to incomprehensible noise to my brain. I told him thanks and goodbye, but as we turned around to leave he said to me, “I probably won’t be around much longer, can you take my picture?” So I did. I didn’t think anything of the photos until I looked at them on the computer and I saw that same glimpse of two distinct personalities that didn’t quite seem to mesh with one another.
Shortly after taking Donald’s photo we made it to the skate park. I don’t normally like shooting sports but it was really nice with the overpass providing both shade and some interesting lines to work with. It also didn’t hurt that there were some extremely talented bikers like Noah Lochner pulling off some insane stunts when we showed up. Having somebody upside down in the air staring down at the concrete made for interesting photos but at the same time it made me extremely nervous. Although I wasn’t actively encouraging any of them to jump higher, simply by being there with my camera they were playing it up a bit. I was worried that if one of them got hurt I would have been at least partly responsible just for being there. Thankfully that did not happen today.
Cajun Mardi Gras
I’m back home now from Louisiana and boy did I have a great time! I was scheduled to shoot a wedding on the 28th in Mississippi but it wasn’t until after I contacted my friend Gwen in Louisiana about 2nd shooting with me that I even realized Mardi Gras was that same week. As cool as the wedding was, the highlight of the trip was Mardi Gras, especially since it was so different from my expectations. Instead of taking me to New Orleans to watch floats and catch beads, Gwen took me to Savoy, Louisiana to take part in a traditional Cajun Mardi Gras courir.
I flew in Monday morning, and after taking a short nap, Gwen presented to me the awesome Mardi Gras costume she made me for my birthday. We still needed a few things for the next day’s event, so we went and picked up some booze, then headed downtown to the Fun Shop to look for masks. It was a cool costume store but sadly after being a local Lafayette landmark for the past 45 years, the Fun Shop was having a going out of business sale.
Next stop was back at Gwen’s to make our capuchons (dunce caps) that we would wear the next day, before heading off again to a Lundi Gras parade to watch some floats and marching bands, catch a few beads, and as another excuse for more drinking.
After that Gwen changed into a crazy outfit complete with a whip for a trip over to the Blue Moon Saloon where Cedric Watson was performing. If you’ve never heard or danced to zydeco music you are missing out! In true Mardi Gras fashion we danced all night and got a few hours of sleep before we had to get up again to drive to the Faquetigue Mardi Gras run in Savoy.
For those of you who don’t know much about Mardi Gras (like myself) or speak French (me again), Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday. It’s the last day before Lent, in which you are supposed to fast for the 40 days leading up to Easter, and the reason it’s called Fat Tuesday is because it’s your last chance to stuff yourself to make it through those 40 days of fasting. Of course you can’t stuff yourself properly without a good gumbo, and what better way to make a gumbo than to stop at houses and beg for ingredients? If you’re lucky your host might even release a chicken or pig which you have to run and catch. Courir, which literally translates to “run”, encompasses the entire begging tradition, but as far as I can tell it’s called that because of the running after the live ingredients. If you want to learn more about Cajun Mardi Gras, Megan Romer wrote a nice article about it here.
On the way to Savoy, we stopped at a gas station where we got boudin and I had my first taste of cracklin, which was like a pork rind only crunchier and more unhealthy (if that’s even possible). When we arrived people were already starting to drink and then there was an initiation for us first-timers to learn the lyrics to the song we would be marching to and the rules: no beads, flags, or booty music. Participate, dance, and respect the guys with whips (capitaines). And one more rule about not flushing the port-o-lets. Pretty simple. Once we were clear on those we started walking. It was a beautiful day, slightly overcast, which was also great for photos. As part of the aforementioned tradition, every few houses we’d stop to do a little begging or the occasional worshipping of a lawn gnome. I didn’t see any rice getting handed out, but there were chickens. Chickens that would be tossed in the air and then about 100 people in costume would chase after it. There was even a pig at one point. There were a lot of musicians and a band trailer that would slowly ride along with us. Near the end of the walk we all stopped and gathered around a famous musician’s tomb to pay respects and play some songs in his honor. There was also a lot of dancing and of course drinking the whole way. After what seemed like 6 or 7 miles of walking, we eventually made it back to the house we started at to eat gumbo and do a bunch more dancing. The Lost Bayou Ramblers played for us, whose music is also featured in the slideshow.
All in all, this ranks up there as one of the most memorable days of my life. If you ever make it to Louisiana during Mardi Gras, I highly recommend skipping New Orleans and participating in a Cajun courir instead. Just don’t expect to get any beads or see any boobies and I promise you’ll have a great time. Click the play button below to watch the smaller sized slideshow, or go here for the larger version. Hope you felt like you were there!
I'm a freelance photojournalist based in Oregon focusing primarily on documenting weddings. You can see some of