david schrott is everywhere

the path forward

Posted in Uncategorized by thebreakfastdictator on 02/17/2018


There are these deep resentments inside of me that I’ve found by un-earthing just a little bit below the surface. And there are these tendencies and trends in my life that I don’t understand how they came to be. Many days, I act like a 37 year old infant and it struck me the other day – this is not normal for a properly developed man of my age. I dig down in my memory and wonder what happened that kept me in such a child like state? I don’t know, but I’ve always had younger friends – when I was in college, I’d come home for the summer and play whiffle ball with kids who were in high school and middle school. In HS, I always got a long with the class that was one year younger than me than with my class. And even now, so many of my friends are younger and single… what in the world?

I was thinking about my earliest competent photos and so many of them were laden with a deep resentment, even hatred of women (I’m assuming because I always had trouble with dating, but it could have been something else!). Those resentments faded over time and women became idolized – the zenith of humanity, sinless in everything they did, while men themselves were more lowly of a creature. (There is a lot to be said for this given our current political moment!). I wonder how these ideas became so powerful in me.

I was an arrogant photographer and it was bourne out of the fact that I knew I was skilled and saw those others who were lesser skilled as somehow less human. And then when I wasn’t able to secure jobs, my arrogance turned to self-loathing. But now, I can see that I was skilled and that I was not a good marketer and that there is something to be done about both. I’m never going to be a professional photographer, but I can do my best to bring a little beauty to the world that is so full of apathy and nihilism. So that is the goal. And it is the goal to see men and women differently too. Women are not perfectly benevolent and men are not perfectly tyrannical. There is balance to both of those extremes and to live in the extremes is to give in to the poison of the trendy Satanic lie that women are more than men.

And so here we go.


Here are some film photos from the spring of 2016.

Posted in B&W Photography by thebreakfastdictator on 06/24/2017





betty troublemaker

Posted in Personal Work, Pittsburgh by thebreakfastdictator on 03/17/2013
betty troublemaker

betty troublemaker

wake up, wake up. you’ve been sleeping for the past few years…

it’s a cold, drizzly, blurry april morning in pittsburgh. head east on carson and right on becks run. somewhere up in the hills of carrick a small ranch house with cedar siding awaits. the green and blue lights of the fuzzy cd screen foggily light the darkness of the dashboard while the newest music i’ve acquired snakes out of the speakers.

love songs. oh, how i love love.

wake up. wake up. from your slumber made of fears…

the days there are lonely and hard. the angles of the drywall are abundant and greater than ninety degrees. several back-and-forths to carnegie later, there is enough vinyl to sufficiently cover the spaces between them. the only real company is lanny frattare’s familiar, and friendly, voice calling buccos games through the orblike ten-dollar-radio from rite aid.

the pirates lose. again.

cause the world is beautiful. and you are beautiful. and god knows, you’re beautiful, to me…

the heart is a restless thing. it aches for what it does not know and it is never satisfied. but these lyrics burn their way into my brain. they echo. they haunt. their story becomes my story. fiction and true fortune are so co-mingled, so blurred. the sharpness of reality becomes the cloudiness of a dream woken up from too soon. the grain and layers and fog envelop everything. soft blues and muted greys covered in film-like grain dot the landscape of this mystical wilderness. the pines shoot from the fields with great upheaval, tossing grey earth heavenward. fog rolls in and as if looking thru reticulated lenses, the sky stoops low. the fair lady has indeed arrived; and then, vanished. like oil through the fingers, she is gone…

to sleep, perchance, to dream!

wake up. wake up. see the thing that you’ve been missing…

the bleak pittsburgh morning blinks through my windows and the scent of hazelnut coffee is already hanging in the air. but the other side of my bed is still cold, still empty; no one asleep under the homemade steelers blanket other than myself. and myself has slept far too long.

wake up wake up. i love you. are you listening?

her soft skin tightens against the forceful march air as she marches across the wind-spewn cornfield with delicacy. she has sharp green eyes and they dazzle like daggers from against the backdrop of the sundrenched verdant pines. her jaw is sharp and her ears hold her heavy earrings with ease. film has been spooled through the ancient camera and the blue balloons ripple overhead. grain and texture dominate what’s left in this winter wasteland; all too soon the old man will pass on and the fresh baby’s breath of spring will melt the icy air.

cause the world is beautiful. and you are beautiful. and god knows, you’re beautiful, to me…

come, let’s away!