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Share Houses, Skaters and Spontaneity: Sam Stephenson Documents Sydney

This photographer has spent the last ten years shooting his friends, who have grown up before his lens.
Photography by Otis Burian Hodge 

This article is supported by Baron Samedi Spiced. In this series, Dark Arts, we profile artists who celebrate the night in their practice.

Beginning by photographing close friends, Sam Stephenson has developed a decade-spanning portfolio that intimately documents going out, growing up, and getting real. Finding inspiration in days spent skating and nights spent testing boundaries, Stephenson's work both records a history and motivates a future.

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Having studied commercial photography, it's actually in spontaneity and chance that he shines. His photos pang hard with a genuine free and easiness—in the comfort of share houses, with the pretext of nighttime. Mostly shooting in black and white, his lens oscillates between subjects varying from smiling recklessness to skating.

We asked Stephenson about growing up with the people he shoots and developing photos in his kitchen.

VICE: What's so good about your mates that has kept you photographing them for ten years?
It's easier photographing people that you know. I hardly take photos of strangers, never got good at that, although sometimes I wish I tried. When I was around 21 I bought this book Out and About by Ari Marcopoulos. He photographed a lot of people who died before 30, in their late 20s. I thought that's how life would be for me and a lot of my friends. I felt I had a lot of work to do—documenting their lives, you know? Some of those friends are from rough beginnings, I wasn't, but we were still attracted to each other. We made each other family and stayed out skating all day and night because home life wasn't always the greatest. Now those friends are almost 30 themselves, and there's a new wave of people in their early 20s to document. And now I'm also inspired by people like Cristian O'Sullivan from Sydney band Low Life and Ed Woodley from China Heights, who are bit older but have held onto their youth in many ways.

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Can you tell me about a few of the people you photographed first and are still photographing?
Skaters, musicians, artist, photographers, and their intimate partners. I tried to keep the underground lit. Wade Thompson and Mitch Tolman are two that I have continued to photograph. Our relationships have stayed strong, others have weakened, but I have lifetime friends that I may go months without speaking to. Mitch came from a broken home and he didn't have much of a photo album in his house, now over the years we have created a timeline and the family album he always wanted. I live with Wade, and I've slowed down on taking his picture now that I live with him. It's like you don't feel the need to record someone you see everyday. Some of my favourite photos are of Wade, though. He's loved by many.

How long are you going to keep documenting these friends for?
A long time. Faces change, relationships break down, and pants become different width. Things are always changing; there's new things to capture. And photos that might not be that great at the moment you take them can get better with age.

Your best work is capturing these really unguarded moments. Even if your mates are a bit performative, nothing feels staged. Why is this so important to you?
I feel that's how I worked early on, I didn't want to fake it. I studied commercial photography and it pointed me in the other direction. I did a lot of guessing, though. I shot a lot and then would need someone else to help edit, because I didn't know what made a good photo. I would get maybe one OK image on each roll I took. Now I see more in black and white, I think about composition more, I look for interesting back drops, I always try to have the sitter looking down the lens. In saying that, I do a lot of guessing still, too. You can do that with film. I've never been much for building a set. I've always been more interested in the street cinema.

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Is the response you get to pulling out your camera different after all these years? Has the novelty of being photographed worn off for your friends—are they more relaxed?
When I started there wasn't camera phones, so I was the only one documenting things. It was a novelty to have your picture taken and put it on MySpace or whatever. I remember taking Polaroids before digital cameras were affordable, how the images finally appeared. A friend said, "Whoa! That just happened." That magic has been lost. Everything is so instant now. Some friends, like Mitch Tolman, have always been relaxed though. He feels comfortable. I feel people might trust me more, like I'm going to respect them with how they will be represented in the photograph. I usually share the photos with them before any one else. It's hard to make everyone happy and it's always strange seeing a photo of yourself.

So you started shooting black and white film. Why'd you make this choice?
Digital cameras weren't affordable and, in terms of quality, film was still the shit in comparison. I love the process. From processing the film in my kitchen to printing in a darkroom. I also enjoy the final stage of spotting, retouching the image, with ink and brush. It feels more like you're creating an artwork using something more solid. Digital files seem to get lost. I've always been drawn to black and white. I like thinking in shades of grey, it's like a mindfulness exercise trying to see the world this other way.

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In the beginning, aside from documenting friends skating, you had a sharp focus on nighttime antics. What do you think the night does, or allows people to do?
Something magic used to happened when it would get dark, but it happens very little these days. I'm in bed before 8:30pm most nights. I like direct camera flash at night, it brings people out of the darkness and into the light. People just get a bit silly when the sun goes down.

Where are some of your favourite spots to be at night?
On the street or in a living room of a share house. Around Oxford Street would always be funnest. Brighton Bar corner, to be specific, for photos. Hang out in Gaslight alley, Gaff steps, or the Crown Street stoop. People watch. Do laps up and down Oxford Street. There is so much to see.

Can you share any stories from wild nights, some of the greatest moments you've captured?
One of the best things that happened was when graffiti writers Bats and Rich came over to my Darlinghurst house one night mid-week and were doing sketches in my living room. It was the week before Mardi Gras, they were playing around with words and were planning on doing a piece on an Alice In Wonderland billboard on Oxford Street, just up from Taylor Square. One of the options was, "Mum, I'm gay." I didn't go out and document them doing it, it was something I wanted to do but have always been a wuss when it came to doing crimes, but the next day I walked out of my place on Chisholm Street and above Oxford Street I saw in big letters, "Gay and Proud." It's a shame it got taken down before the parade. Tim Burton must have not been impressed. But I did get a photo of it before they removed it. Big-ups to those naughty boys.

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Are there any other moments you wish you'd captured?
Again it was Mardi Gras and I was assisting a photography shoot in Hyde Park. I was distracted by a guy on a Segway, with a pigtails wig, dressed up as Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. I thought that was the dopest thing I ever saw. Even if I did have my camera I probably wouldn't have taken any photos. Sometimes it's better just to appreciate shit.

Imagine it's Friday night and someone's just poured you a beer a Brighton Bar. The song that's going to start this night right starts playing. What is it?
'Dipset Anthem' by The Diplomats featuring Cam'Ron and Juelz Santana.

You can follow Sam Stephenson on Instagram here.

This article is supported by Baron Samedi Spiced, made with Caribbean Rum, spices, and natural flavours. You can find out more about it here. Drink responsibly.