Mark Kolton's Questionnaire

I live in Michigan City, Indiana. Because it’s cheap, and despite the occasional gunshots, I find the town charming. It’s easy and cheap as hell to catch a train into Chicago, and there’s a good pizza place near the station. The police couldn’t give less of a shit, though, about this place. Which is totally fine with me; as far as I’m concerned, they’re just here to keep me from getting good pictures. My home has what it has to, which is to say: almost nothing. I’ve got a wardrobe, a bed. No TV. Television is for idiots who can’t digest information unless it’s baby bird-ed to them. I microwave whatever I can, since the oven just takes forever, and seems like a hazard. Big cities have too many people and too much to control to be able to function like a real, truthful space. That’s why I’d rather be in a place like this. 

I freelance as an accident scene photographer. A lot of the time commitment of the job is the grim charge to just drive around and seek out death and destruction. I listen to the police radio to try to get a picture of whatever’s outside my immediate view, but sometimes I’ve got to be the one to call them. News stations pay pretty well for pictures of particularly shocking scenes, and while I don’t like sensationalism, it’d be better for those poor viewers to get some tangible idea of whatever the anchors are talking about than to leave it to description. A picture really is worth a thousand words, and to compound on that, nobody wants to read a thousand words anyway. I spend my money on alcohol, utilities, weed, and food. Usually in that order.