not_fade_away raze no one takes photographs like jim marshall anymore. he captured artists at their most vulnerable. kris kristofferson shirtless and smoking a cigarette on a hotel room bed, half-awake, trying to see through the haze of last night's bad decisions. the members of the who staring into the camera like angry young gods. david crosby smirking at a sign advertising topless psychiatrists. roy buchanan showing you all the pain and confusion of his life in one look, daring you to hold his gaze. the picture that stays with me is the one of janis joplin sitting backstage at winterland next to a princeton reverb amplifier, clutching a bottle of southern comfort, looking lost. most people would have made sure an image like that never saw the light of day. she liked it. she liked it because it was honest. "that's how it is some nights, jim," she said. "lousy." he wasn't always a great human being. he broke someone's jaw with one of his cameras. he snorted enough cocaine to fill a football field. at his fiftieth birthday party, a lawyer, a police officer, and a drug dealer toasted him in unison. that tells you something about the schizophrenic life he led. when it came to taking someone's picture, all the bullshit disintegrated. it was an act of devotion for him. there's a level of emotional honesty in his work we'll never see again in rock photography. jim wrote: "too much bullshit is written about photographs and music. let the music move you, whether to a frenzy or a peaceful place. let it be what you want to hear — not what others say is popular. let the photograph be one you remember — not for its technique but for its soul. let it become a part of your life — a part of your past to help shape your future. but most of all, let the music and the photograph be something you love and will always enjoy." the internet tells me he's been dead since 2010. but these pictures aren't going anywhere. 210829 ... unhinged the last time i saw him healthy he told me 'if i ever get cancer, i'm not getting chemo.' at that point several of his friends 'on the ranch' had died from cancer. we were sitting on the back patio in the dark while he smoked a cigarette. i had quit years before but still went outside with him while he smoked to keep him company since i had to fly a good distance to see him. i said something flippant and he said it again, this time looking up from the poker app he was playing on his phone while we talked, peering over the top of his glasses at me 'i am NOT getting chemo if i ever get cancer.' i looked him in the eye and said 'ok dad. i don't blame you. it sounds horrible. i wouldn't want that either.' little did i know, about a year later, i would be fighting with my sister who he gave permission to speak to his doctor because she was a geriatric physical therapist about chemo. 'why is his doctor talking about chemo? dad told me he didn't want that.' he had basically stopped eating months before and he was clearly seeing things that weren't there. my sister kept trying to tell his nurses over the phone from thousands of miles away that he wasn't in his right mind but he had them fooled after decades of working on an ambulance. he knew what to say to get the nurses to leave him alone even if his brain was malfunctioning to the point of visual hallucinations. 'even if he said that before, it doesn't matter now. he's not in his right mind.' whaaaat?! shouldn't it matter more now? he looked me in the face and told me what he wanted when he was in his right mind. doesn't that count? i knew the doctor was sending her his charts because she knew how to read them so i pushed harder 'and does his chart say DNR? cause it should. I know he doesn't want extraordinary measures. he told me that too.' DNR do not resuscitate because he wanted to die in peace with dignity. no chemo. no cpr. no shocks to restart his heart. do not resuscitate a couple weeks later i was standing in front of him hearing his last breaths rattle around in his chest, at a distance. i couldn't be too close to him in the end except at night when he was mostly sleeping because i didn't want to disturb his passing with my grief. i fought for you though dad. i told allison all about the DNR and the no chemo. i got on a plane in the middle of a locked down pandemic to hold your hand while you died. and i hate that i avoided telling you more than 'i love you' in the end. so i hope you knew exactly how much was in those three puny words. 210829 what's it to you? who go blather from