handling king bug
Who knew that a morning jog isn’t just about getting fit?
Saturday. I woke up early despite the fact that it was a non-working weekend. My body clock would get me out of bed at around 4:30. But thank God I woke up at 6 am. Seeing as I haven’t jogged for awhile I woke up dad and invited him for a nice stroll around the subdivision. Getting healthy was all in mind.
Never would I’ve guessed that I’d run into my next still life series.
A headless salagubang in black and white.
You might have known most of my works are shots of dead…things. If time only permitted me to look for models or maybe schedule for a shoot somewhere nice, I’d go for it. But it has been busy. So when I stumble upon anything that can possibly be a new subject (and would fit my sched)…I’d instantly grab it.
I hesitated a bit for this one. I looked down at the salagubang. It was infested with red ants. Not the regular small ones. Not those huge ones either. But they looked scary the same way. I hated being bitten by an ant. Let alone a dozen of these guys.
I stepped back, kicked the salagubang’s remains until it’s ant-free. I grabbed a discarded plastic from a nearby empty lot. It was still wet from the rain. I closed my eyes and grabbed the insect. Fled the scene and followed my dad out of the street.
It wasn’t until 9pm that I opened the small plastic bag. I was surprised to find that it was still soaked.
And there it was…the salaubang’s wings glistening nicely by the light of my desk lamp. It was silky, like a new car. It took a while for me to get used to positioning it and pinning it down for a decent photo angle.
There were two parts of me that night that I knew I inherited from my parents. One was from my dad. Being a doctor, I think I inherited the stomach to look closely, move or even puncture a living thing (well, a FORMER living thing). Second was from my mom, how she can be scared shitless and grossed out at anything that was lacerated or a thing that everyone knew was dead. I felt both when I saw the insect.
At first I was calming myself, “It’s just a dead bug.” Not long after, I placed it on my palm. I never really liked a live one. I tried keeping one before, even made this small plastic house for it, carpeted with cotton balls. But it was a long time ago. I was scared then. I was still scared of it now. But since it wasn’t moving no more, I made an exception.
Over a hundred and seventy shots, I chose a few that I was pretty proud of. I let my sister see it. Chose the one’s she liked.
I didn’t give the little guy a proper burial. It was already 12 am in the morning, there was no way I’ll be hanging around the garden at that hour. So I placed it in the box, also with it were the stuff I used on it for the shoot. I wrapped it in a converse plastic bag and down it went…into my pink trash can.
Later little guy. Don’t worry, you are now…immortalized!
handling king bug
Who knew that a morning jog isn’t just about getting fit?
Saturday. I woke up early despite the fact that it was a non-working weekend. My body clock would get me out of bed at around 4:30. But thank God I woke up at 6 am. Seeing as I haven’t jogged for awhile I woke up dad and invited him for a nice stroll around the subdivision. Getting healthy was all in mind.
Never would I’ve guessed that I’d run into my next still life series.
A headless salagubang in black and white.
You might have known most of my works are shots of dead…things. If time only permitted me to look for models or maybe schedule for a shoot somewhere nice, I’d go for it. But it has been busy. So when I stumble upon anything that can possibly be a new subject (and would fit my sched)…I’d instantly grab it.
I hesitated a bit for this one. I looked down at the salagubang. It was infested with red ants. Not the regular small ones. Not those huge ones either. But they looked scary the same way. I hated being bitten by an ant. Let alone a dozen of these guys.
I stepped back, kicked the salagubang’s remains until it’s ant-free. I grabbed a discarded plastic from a nearby empty lot. It was still wet from the rain. I closed my eyes and grabbed the insect. Fled the scene and followed my dad out of the street.
It wasn’t until 9pm that I opened the small plastic bag. I was surprised to find that it was still soaked.
And there it was…the salaubang’s wings glistening nicely by the light of my desk lamp. It was silky, like a new car. It took a while for me to get used to positioning it and pinning it down for a decent photo angle.
There were two parts of me that night that I knew I inherited from my parents. One was from my dad. Being a doctor, I think I inherited the stomach to look closely, move or even puncture a living thing (well, a FORMER living thing). Second was from my mom, how she can be scared shitless and grossed out at anything that was lacerated or a thing that everyone knew was dead. I felt both when I saw the insect.
At first I was calming myself, “It’s just a dead bug.” Not long after, I placed it on my palm. I never really liked a live one. I tried keeping one before, even made this small plastic house for it, carpeted with cotton balls. But it was a long time ago. I was scared then. I was still scared of it now. But since it wasn’t moving no more, I made an exception.
Over a hundred and seventy shots, I chose a few that I was pretty proud of. I let my sister see it. Chose the one’s she liked.
I didn’t give the little guy a proper burial. It was already 12 am in the morning, there was no way I’ll be hanging around the garden at that hour. So I placed it in the box, also with it were the stuff I used on it for the shoot. I wrapped it in a converse plastic bag and down it went…into my pink trash can.
Later little guy. Don’t worry, you are now…immortalized!