Anthony Mehlhaff Photo Column—Daughters

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They Got A Name For People Like You

I only found out about Daughters three months prior when one of my best homies called and said he had an extra ticket to a show at The Echo. I went, camera-less and was tripped out that no one was losing their shit so I smashed my way to the front and started throwing people around. After that, everything was as it should be. Fast forward to this Daughters show at The Regent and there was no way I wasn’t gonna snap some shots and necks.

My hands tightened around my camera grip and my trigger finger inches to actuate the shutter. The crowd closes down upon the stage like cattle in a pin during execution hour except these animals invite the slaughter. The lights are cut. You can taste the sweat mist in the air. The silence of the crowd is deafening. And then, the lights blast, the music blares, and the crowd loses their collective shit.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job…” Four songs later, I was given the boot for firing my flash amongst the thirsty savages in the pit, but by then, I had already secured a piece of A.F. Marshall’s soul into the digital world.

We used to pay to be spat upon: Now look at us. I love this photo because it reminds me of how much I yearned to capture particles in my photos: fake blood, spit, glitter, beer, piss. I want those liquidy elements swimming in my frame. I miss this fluid being projected into the air. I can’t wait till it’s safe to be surrounded by strangers, in a dark room, looking up as the fluids come raining down. Hahahaha. Kinda kinky.