John Eder's Journal

I am really happy to announce the first episode of my podcast To The Manor Borne (By Robots) is now up on the Radio Titans Podcast Network. Here's the link: http://radiotitans.com/shows/john-eder-storyteller/

How this came about: a chance meeting led me to do readings at events put on by a group calling itself the Fireside Troupe. They became involved in Radio Titans, a podcast network start-up based in downtown Los Angeles. Radio Titans offered me a chance to do a show of my short stories.

I am a longtime fan of recorded spoken word, specifically comedy albums, and even more specifically, the heavily produced classic work of the Firesign Theater. In more recent times, I also loved Joe Frank's work and that of the comedy group Superego.

I wanted the show to be more like those of my audio heroes, rather than just me reading my stories. So, I've adapted the stories, so they're acted out rather than just recited. I also wanted the show to be longer, somehow deeper, and that is how I came up with the second part of TTMBBR. This is a framing device that has its own arc, like if the Crypt Keeper had an ongoing story in Tales From The Crypt.

In the framing device, a story must be read each episode to a terrible monster, the Beast. The Beast must be read to, or it will destroy the world. Behind the scenes, there is an on-going, time-traveling struggle to destroy the Beast.

Each episode features several talented voice actors, as well as myself in a few roles. I produced the whole thing in Garage Band, adding sound effects and music. The heavy metal theme song is by myself, my friend Walter Salas-Humara, out of the Silos, and our mutual friend Gary Sunshine. I'm starting work on episode 2 and 3, which I am recording ganged-up, Lord Of The Rings style. The tone of TTMBBR will skip around from humorous to serious as the material demands, and the schedule is monthly.

I was invited to be part of the round robin of author Lucy Taylor's blog tour. The idea is various authors point readers toward blogs of other authors. I was invited by Sabrina Kaleta.  Lucy Taylor's blog is http://darkfantasy.us/, Sabrina Kaleta can be found at http://sabrinakaleta.tumblr.com/

As part of the deal, there are questions, as follow.

1. What are you currently working on?  I’m working on my podcast To The Manor Borne (By Robots). I am very much the man behind the curtain, adapting my own short stories, concocting the framing device segments (like if Rod Serling had his own story going on, in addition to presenting Twilight Zone), casting vocal talent, engineering the recording sessions, and producing the finished work. My audio heroes in this are the Firesign Theatre, a major influence on me. This whole thing is going to soon be on Radio Titans Network. Additionally I am getting into shape for publication my two books so far, Tales of the Vienna Woods, and Santa The Barbarian, laying them out in InDesign. You can find the entire pitch for Tales on my blog.  Santa is an origin story of Santa Claus if he had been a Viking, lavishly illustrated by myself. I’m always writing short stories too, esp. now that I need fodder for TTMBBR. Finally, I am prepping for a new book.

2.  How is your work different from others in the same genre? My work differs in (hopefully) unexpected settings, situations and characters, and also in my ambition to use fiction to illustrate what I consider basic truths about the human condition. If I think of my heroes, their work stands out because their voice is original and they create their own little worlds, which is what I hope to do in my own work. For example, the short stories I am working on now are in support of creating the world of my next full length book.

3.  Why do you write what you write? I write what I myself enjoy reading, and to entertain. Maybe someday I will want to write some stuff about everyday people in everyday circumstance, but right now it is not my thing.

There's reams of internet debate lately over NY Magazine's profile of notorious fashion photographer Terry Richardson, so I thought I would dust off this obituary I wrote about his father Bob. Whether or not Terry has become the monster he is accused of being is beyond my limited knowledge of him to confirm or deny. This piece is not an apology or defense of Terry's alleged behavior or even of his work, beyond that it was extremely innovative and influential in its time. The piece is about his father, not him.

Bob Richardson in the 60s, don't know who the photographer was of this image.

My obit drawing of Bob. This piece was originally published on brink.com

GOODBYE, PRINCE OF DARKNESS

One day in a camera store in LA, I noticed a sign:  “Bob Richardson – Photography Lessons.”  I’d heard a lot about Bob Richardson, from all the press that his famous son, photographer Terry Richardson, had gotten.  Terry even had a book called “Son of Bob” out.

       The standard rundown on Bob:  one of a handful of innovators in the 60s who changed fashion photography forever, peer of the pantheon of Helmut Newton, Diane Arbus and Richard Avedon. By incorporating psychological and overtly erotic elements into his photos, he helped drag fashion from its genteel 50s incarnation into the far more real 60s. But after his initial success, Bob, who had a long history of mental illness and substance abuse, vanished from the fashion scene, deserted his family, and wound up living the life of a derelict for many years. He was eventually sought out by admirers of his work, and reunited with his son Terry. The latter experienced crazy success in the fashion and art worlds as the main proponent of porno chic and snapshot aesthetic. Terry Richardson is the closest thing the photo world has to the Ramones:  a punk rock approach to what had become a stuffy art form.  Rumor had it that Bob had a lot to do with the ideas behind Terry.

       I called the number on the card and it was indeed that Bob Richardson.  I booked a lesson, which was to take place at his apt. in Highland Park,.

  Bob was a slender, saturnine figure with pointy white beard and hair. He had a sharp, intelligent face, eyes framed by big glasses.  His place was modest but nice, and the lesson was him looking at my portfolio.  I asked him if it was OK to smoke and he said “Are you kidding?” since he smoked like a chimney.  It wasn’t really a lesson – it was more like paying to talk with the Bob Richardson about photography, and especially the business end of photography. 

  I was, of course, interested in how Terry got where he got.Bob told me: “All these fashion editors are obsessed with sex, so I told Terry to send them some pictures every few weeks that were so sexual they could never publish them. Just some prints from the one hour lab, and write your name and number on the back in pencil or something. And you keep sending those, and after a while they did respond, and he got a job from Details magazine.  And I told him to not tone it down, make the actual shoot just as unrunnable, and they’ll ask you to reshoot it, and then you have to say no. And then they’ll come back again anyway, because they always want something they can’t have.” This kind of insight into the twisted logic of the fashion industry was why I had wanted to meet Bob. The whole lesson was more like a session with a psychiatrist. There was a Prince of Darkness thing going with Bob, like he’s Darth Vader and you’re Luke, and he wants you to come over to the Dark Side. His main advice to me photographically was to just get more sex in there.  Other fashion advice “To be a fashion photographer you either have to love or hate fashion.  It’s OK if you hate it, you don’t have to love the clothes or the people, but you have to love the pictures you’re taking. “

  Bob was notorious for being difficult on jobs, and many of his fondest anecdotes involved “legging it” out of shoots where someone was pissing him off. A lot of his advice centered on just that, when you know it is time to take off, which had definitely proved counter-productive to his own career. He was brutally honest about the photo biz, his own feelings on it, his life, everything. He said things and acted in ways that a lot of photographers would like to,  but hardly any do, since they want to get and keep clients. 

  Another thing I admired about Bob was that he was endlessly and fearlessly creative, deciding to embark on a career in music video when I met him,at age 75. He showed me his reel. It featured beautiful imagery of snowy NYC, and various models making out in dimly lit clubs. It was in black and white, set to classical music, gorgeous, but would be a hard sell in the record label arena. I had done a few music videos and he asked me to introduce him to whoever I could.  I warned him that the music video biz was even worse than fashion,  prizing above all youth and newness in directors. He poo-pooed all that, and insisted that true talent would out.  I set him up with a music video commissioner from a major label that I knew, as well as a production company head agent.  Predictably, they didn’t get it.  When I called the agent he said “Why did you send me this guy with all this fag stuff on his reel?” The commissioner was a little hipper, but said “No one is going to want him unless they know who he is…like maybe an older artist like Marianne Faithful or Bryan Ferry.”  Those would have been good matches, and Bob remained optimistic, but the video break never came. 

I was thinking about death imagery lately, since you see so much of it, at least here in Los Angeles, where I dwell. Skulls are everywhere. Tattoos, bumper stickers, billboards, scarves, t-shirts, purses, hats, advertising. It's like what living in Mayan society must have been like, you'd think there'd be  human sacrifices on top of the Wells Fargo tower, with all these skulls.

I started thinking about this since I myself am guilty of using skulls a lot in artwork, and here is one such usage, from my Florida House project, this picture is about a kid who took too many mushrooms and thought he was going to die...no, wait, scratch that, he thought he was already dead! A true story - not me personally, in case you're wondering.

This just up on Curbed, a blog about neighborhoods and real estate - the Los Angeles edition.

I'll be reading my short non-fiction piece, MRS. WAPLES OF NAPLES, at Speakeasy.The piece is an excerpt from my book FLORIDA HOUSE, and is adapted for the format of Speakeasy.

FLORIDA HOUSE is an illustrated book, illustrated with my own photos, recreating events that happened to me and my friends, and in the surrounding town, as we grew up in Naples, Florida in the mid-70s. Here are the pictures from the MRS.WAPLES OF NAPLES section.

Mrs. Waples, in her living room.

The main suspect in the killing, Red Mitchell

I'm thrilled to be at this event, Speakeasy Los Angeles in Laurel Canyon, Nov. 16 and 17th. I've been reading in public for maybe six months now, and this is a long way from open mics in downtown L.A. It's ticketed, so if you want to come, follow the link here for ticket info.

http://www.speakeasylosangeles.com/

Here's three new drawings I did for my SANTA THE BARBARIAN book project...

Above is Alishir, the Arabian Nights type city Santa and Mrs.Claus briefly rule until things go south in a big way...

SANTA THE BARBARIAN attempts to explain a lot of Christmas traditions and Santa Claus stuff and above is the origin of Christmas lights, which is jewels on a tree in the fortress of Rathi, the main bad guy of the piece.

I've been hard at it, scribbling away on the drawings that accompany my SANTA THE BARBARIAN project...

Here the twelve year old future Santa Claus,Nikolai, is seen as a young Viking charged with breaking and entering into the hall of Notiker the Stammerer, a rival Viking chieftain in possession of the navigation stones - a real thing in Viking history. Unfortunately, Notiker wakes up from his stupor and all hell breaks loose.

A living necklace, this evil, freaky charm binds the monster Krampus to the will of the villain of the piece, Rathi.

Nikolai pursues the Krampus into his lair. He must plunge through a dark tunnel which, to his surprise, is lined with things more commonly found in an artist's studio or a child's playroom. I kind of ripped this idea off from the film"Howl's Moving Castle", full disclosure.