I'm not sure when the notion struck me. But it most certainly has.
I have found my muse.
There are people who cross your path and fuel your imagination and creativity. They propel you to conjure up bigger and better ideas. They are the ignition that trigger powerful concepts, grand plans and designs of immense proportions.
I do believe that Phil, a friend and colleague at work, is that kind of person.
It might have something to do with his kind nature. Or his bad jokes. Or his penchant for doing a German accent off the cuff at 4:30 in the afternoon.
I don't know what it is, but Phil is quickly becoming my Larry "Bud" Melman, an everyman whom I can throw into situations to see how purely he functions and reacts.
I can tell you that everything Phil does is comedy gold. Sometimes on purpose and sometimes not. I think I have the photographic evidence to prove it.
Posted by Jeff at May 28, 2004 01:01 AM
In his hands, a serving tray becomes an angelic halo. With one insouciant tilt behind his head, viola!, St. Phillip, patron saint of the tuna melt, is born.
This photo was taken later the same day. I have no idea what brought this on. But Phil took the tiara and ran with it. He makes, dare I say, a striking princess.
The above photos are only part of his growing visual oevure. Earlier this year, he was one of the inaugural models for The King Project. I think it's a sign of his versatility that he can pull off wearing a set of Elvis sunglasses and a tiara with equal aplomb.
A mullet wig in his hands becomes something altogether glamorous and refined. The pure joy depicted on his face is the innocent kind only witnessed in babies and puppies.
Oye como va, Philito.
To me, the true sign of talent is when light and heat are generated by sheer force of personality at the most unguarded moments.
I think it takes a big man to prance down an aisle of desks and announce, "I'm a pissed-off woodland sprite!" in the workplace at 4:17 p.m. on a Friday.
Friday afternoon is clearly Phil's time to shine.
I had such confidence in Phil's photographic possibilities that I cast him as the fictional "Dr. Hockey" in a story we did about basic hockey rules and techniques. To me, he had the same qualities exhibited by doctors in 1950s cigarette ads: authoritarian air, legitimacy, unquestioned honesty.
He was so convincing that a TV station wanted to use him to help answer viewer questions. We were unable to comply. Phil's never watched a hockey game in his life. But on this day and in these photos, he was the epitome of everything good and real about hockey.
Bravo, Phil. Bravo, I say.