For your consideration:

Bobby Bruderle, Photographer

IsntABlog.com

Contact info:

Name: Bobby BruderleEmail:BobbyBruderle@gmail.com

Cell: 703.994.3606IsntABlog.com

As the Internet continues to take over, and as print publications continue to die, our need for some-thing tangible increases. This magazine is a physical representation of my work over the past year. I wanted to make sure that even if all my hard drives crash and all my backup sites file Chapter 11, this small portion of my work would still survive.

I made this as much for myself as I did for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Sincerely, Bobby Bruderle

Alex the Kick Boxer

RingVirginity

Lost

When I contacted the promoter he seemed excited. Not often do I call for a press pass and get much more than grunts and sighs. I asked if there was a fighter who was fight-ing for the very first time. Miraculously, there was a first time fighter, one who the promoter was very excited about.

I followed Alex throughout his prepara-tions for the fight. His was one of the last bouts of the night so he had to wait and watch six other fights before he even put his shorts on. I’m sure this was nerve rack-ing, but he really didn’t show many signs of anxiety.

When Alex finally was allowed into the ring, what transpired was incredible. Immediately both fighters landed hard punches and kicks, and both ended up with their respective backs on the mat. And so it went.

Alex eventually won with a K.O.

Hopefully these photos will end up in some retrospective after he becomes heavyweight champion of the world.

BAL EN BLANC(Photos from a rave)

One of the more surreal experiences I had this year occurred at a rave in Montréal. It was my first rave, and I really didn’t know what to expect. I did know there would be drugs and loud music. Everything else came as a surprise.

Myra

Myra is one of my favorite subjects. She is confident, beautiful and talented. She al-ways calls me up when she needs a portrait. The latter of these qualifications led to this album art photoshoot.

Big John is a legend in Burlington, VT. He owns the local skateshop and was a competitive skater until a few years ago when he sustained a serious brain injury. He fell skating at a reported 50 miles an hour. The day I was scheduled to shoot his portrait, he broke his wrist in five places skating to work. Theses images are from the reshoot a week later.

Hospital Holidays At first it felt like a heart attack. It was late and I was partying. I decided to get some McDonalds and sleep it off.

In the morning, the sharp pain in my chest was still there. I called my mom and she drove me to the hospital. Luckily, if you say your chest hurts, the ER nurses rush you along. The doctor said that my left lung had collapsed. Apparently it wasn’t a big deal and it happens to tall skinny dudes all the time. A team of nurses rushed in and proceeded to jam a plastic tube into my chest cavity. I was told I would be out the next morning. I ended up staying in the hospital for 12 days over Christmas and New Years. The following images were influenced by a fog of pain-killers and the unbearable boredom of hospital living.

Hospital Smokers

The past year I lived far from campus. I walked to classes every day, early and often in freezing weather. Between my dorm and campus is the University hos-pital. I passed it everyday and noticed people smoking, 100 feet or more from the building, freezing. Apparently the hospital does not provide a smoking hut or other shelter for hospital workers and patients who choose to smoke.

I don’t condone smoking, but I think it is hard enough to be spending time at a hospital, working or visiting loved ones, to be forced to go out into the frigid cold to smoke.

These are the people I saw -- patients, nurses, cafeteria workers and visitors. All suffering to feed their common addic-tion.

I spent the past semester studying in London. While there, I was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of Jack.

Jack is one of the more interesting people I have ever met. He manages a record company, and is an incredible musician in his own right. His days and long nights are surrounded by music, if not scouting bands, he is playing with his own. As far as I am concerned, he totally em-bodies English rock music.

For reasons I am unsure of, Jack took a liking to me, and had me join him on more than one occa-sion to show me the “real” London. I saw some things I have never seen before and may never see again. These photos are from those nights. The studio portraits were done the day before returning to the U.S. (when I was supposed to be packing).

Jack

I wondered what would happen if I photographed pieces of meat the same way I would photograph the people that butchered them. I wanted to see if there was some sort of connection.

Luckily there was a butcher not more than a few tube stops from where I was living in London, who was willing to do a sitting with me.

I was surprised to find that this particular butcher shop was quite busy. It took three separate visits for Jason, a butcher, to find the time to sit for me.

Over the course of the visits, I learned a huge amount about butchers. Among other things, they are humble and gracious professionals who all seem to have a hard time having only one wife. Butchers are passionate about their work. Bruce, a more seasoned butcher, said that he learned something new every day (which seemed hard to belive coming from someone who had been a butcher for 30+ years.)

I also came to understand that Butchery is a dying art. Butcher shops have been closing at an alarming rate, being replaced by meat counters in big box supermarkets.

Butchers and the butchered are both subject to forces far beyond their control, living and dying as the market sees fit. Stranger still, it seems that while it is the animals who are being slaugh-tered, it is the butchers who may become extinct.

Meat