© Greg Wasserstrom
In today’s New York Times SundayStyles section, there is a pretty interesting article about two teenage boys (14 and 15) who work as paparazzi in Los Angeles. When I was 15, I started working part time at a record store, and that was viewed by my mother and her friends as being highly ambitious. These kids are are amazing.
His fellow photographers had barely taken notice of Lady Victoria Hervey, a British socialite and staple of the English press, when Blaine dashed out in front, getting the shot. And unlike the other paparazzi, he didn’t have to shout her name to get her attention.
“You are so young!” Lady Victoria exclaimed amid the barrage of flashing strobes. “You should be in bed. Where are your parents?”
It’s people like these that cause me to wonder if, at 22, I’m completely passed my prime? Has my ship sailed? Has my train left it’s metaphorical station?
I’m facebooking these guys, and next time I’m out in LA, I’m gonna roll out with them. And not because I have any desire to do what they do - or at least, the way that they do it. If you’ve ever read one of my artist statements (Why would you have? I never post them on the site because I sort of hate artist statements), you know that I’m obsessed with pop culture. Not in a Cult of Celebrity kind of way, but like a Cult of Cult of Celebtrity kind of way: I’m fascinated by the people and instituions that exist to worship celebrity (or politics, or high society, or whatever).
The fact that some entrepreneurial-minded kiddos saw an opportunity as paprazzi instead of, say, dogwalkers or landscapers or something says loads about Amuhrica. What a country!

© Greg Wasserstrom