Generally speaking, self-titled grew tired of ‘party photographers’ a while ago; mostly because they have this way of turning special events into a seen-it-all-before parade of sleeve tattoos, asymmetrical hair, and hopeless hanger-ons who really shouldn’t be wearing that.
Props to the Hobo Gestapo, then, for reviving our interest in a medium that’s overdone but necessary–a gutter rock/hipster-mythologizing analogue to bygone eras of genuine glitz and glamor. While some of the above make appearances on their moody, slightly mysterious site, the cross-continental collective mostly captures refreshingly evocative moments. Not simple knee-jerk shots that lack any sense of composition or–god forbid–lighting.
As Hobo–a 26-year-old Sydney transplant who c0-founded HG–told NY Magazine in its Spring Fashion issue, “We want to steer clear of taking party pictures and being labeled like that because this is more about documentation. We don’t just toss anything up there; we have a real editing process to create a consistent narrative.”
With that in mind, consider the following an s/t-endorsed chapter that just so happens to include candids of A-Trak, the Bloody Beetroots and the cornball entrepreneur who’s largely responsible for a lot of this nonsense…