Jamie Wdziekonski

From fashion shows to moshpits, and everything in between. Jamie Wdziekonski on allowing his work to shine a light on prevalent issues, allyship, touring with some of the modern greats, and how psychedelics changed everything for him.

I absolutely, absolutely love your images and I love the fact that you’re political and also very into your music scene, so I think that we’re going to get along just fine.

Hell yeah, thank you!

First things first, I want to touch on your photography and the images that you create—that’s what you’re mainly known for. How did you get into that scene?

So, I’ve always really liked looking at photos—going through family albums, relating to old memories. And then, in Year 10 I think it was, we did a black and white film photography class in Media [which] was really fun. That was one of the few things I enjoyed doing at school. This one teacher was like I haven’t seen photos of the school taken like this and just told me to keep going with it, so I did. 

Instead of doing VCE in Year 11 and Year 12, I chose VCAL—mainly because I didn’t want to do exams. I’m not an exam type of person…I just fully crumble under the pressure, so I was looking for anything I could do to avoid that. I was doing three days at school, then one day a week I was doing a TAFE multimedia course which was Photoshop and InDesign etc, and then I got a work experience gig at this photo agency called MissBossyBoots in Prahran. They produced shoots for a lot of people, like advertising campaigns, fashion shoots, car shoots, government stock photography—pretty much anything under the banner of advertising. 

Year 12, I dropped out of TAFE due to [moving to] work experience two days a week; so, three days I was at school, [and] two days I was working in Prahran, getting a head start. I was learning heaps from all the photographers we had on the books, mostly how and what I didn’t want to shoot. As cool as it was, I was real uncomfortable with the environment. It was so controlled, and there was a crew of like 20, 30 people all having a say in the photograph and that’s just not how I worked…too much pressure.

But yeah, that’s basically how I got into photography. 

I remember taking a digital camera to Poland when I went with my mum and my grandad in 2015 and just taken a bunch of photos, and there were heaps of people complimenting them. There weren’t many things that I did that people complimented, so it was one of the first things where I was like oh, I’m good at something. 

Might as well make a career out of it…

Yeah! And then, through that agency, I got way more into fashion and the producers there would take me along to Fashion Week, and I’d meet people and start making connections. I ended up starting a fashion blog and doing that thing, which is embarrassing to admit now but we’ve all got our dark pasts.

Yes, absolutely.

And yeah, that’s sort of roughly how it came about.

Amazing. And, I suppose, going from fashion which can have an edge to it—but you were working for an agency, in a team, everything’s above board…

So many hoops to jump through just to organise one shoot.

Yeah! And, going from that sort of thing to going completely rogue and doing your own thing, working with bands like King Gizzard, Kikagaku Moyo, Amyl & The Sniffers…And your images, they have such a unique look about them. I could be looking at a lineup of black and white images and be able to point yours out easily. So, I guess what I’m trying to ask is—when you’re working in that fashion industry, and working on these manufactured shoots—did you learn then what you did or didn’t want to shoot, or how you did or didn’t want to shoot? And did you identify what sort of photographer you wanted to be back then, or did your style come as time and practice went on?

The style came afterwards. When I was on shoots, I would do a bit of behind the scenes work for the agency’s blog. It was something that I never saw myself going too deep into, purely because of the effort behind it—like I said, too many hoops to jump through. And at the end of the day, having my image on a billboard to sell something like jeans or a car is not what I wanted my photos to be used for. 

The style of my photography came about when I was working in the fashion industry. I loved photographers like Olivier Zahm from Purple Fashion Magazine—so I would take black and white social pics which I ended up contributing to Purple towards the end of my stint in fashion.

And then the music photography came about around 2013. I’d lost my blog that year—because I hadn’t paid for the web hosting and I wasn’t getting the emails for the bill… shit wasn’t backed up so I’d lost all this work and got hit with a well, do I keep going in fashion? Do I start again or do I just take a completely different route? At that same time, I was experimenting with psychedelics for the first time, and I started discovering bands like The Black Angels and Brian Jonestown Massacre, so there was that crossover period where I was still shooting fashion, but I was getting really into this music that was sort of stripping the world back around me. 

I remember watching a doco—have you seen Dig! by Ondi Timoner?

No, no I haven’t! But I actually have it on my list of must-watches because of another interview of yours that I read…

You gotta watch it! That’s what changed it all for me. [The doco] spans over about seven or eight years, and I was just amazed…In hindsight, seven years isn’t much time. I’ve been shooting music for seven years and I’ve done what she’s done now—in a sense—with photography, and it’s just seemed to flash by. But back then, I was like woah, how do you stick with something for seven years?! And on a whim [in the hope of becoming] something big. That’s what I did with Gizzard and Kikagaku. The first time I shot Kikagaku, that was their first international show—they’d just formed. Gizzard had been around for about a year or two before I shot them, [when they were still] doing that garage-y sort of stuff.

I went out on a limb and started following these bands hoping I would document something like Ondi did. 

That’s so sick. That’s actually so fucking cool. I’m in awe. I’m jealous. I’m inspired.

Do you mind me asking how old you are?

I’m 29…

Oh, baby, don’t you worry—I’m almost 31. We’re both at the ass end of our youth.

I think it’s one thing to know that you’re good at something, but it’s another thing to actually go out and pursue that dream or ambition. I think a lot of the time, people don’t follow their gut…you know, they do what they think is expected of them. I’ve been guilty of that way of thinking up until recently because of the conditioning that I’ve experienced throughout my life—you have to get that 9-to-5 job, you have to find a partner and get married and have the kids, and all that shit. So, I think the fact that you found that thing and have gone after it—granted, you’ve still been working another job to make some extra cash—but you’re putting your heart and soul into your thing, and that’s incredible.

Thanks! Yeah, the 9-to-5 was purely out of necessity and it would just fund the film and the travel. Maybe for five of the seven years [that I’ve been doing this], I funded the whole thing myself.

Tell me how you go from experimenting with psychedelics and watching this doco, to actually doing it—getting in contact with these bands, did they get in contact with you and how has it all played out?

I think King Gizzard put out a new single which was Head On/Pill and Stu, in the video clip, is playing a sitar; and Anton from Brian Jonestown played a sitar in Dig. That was something that I was really interested in because I’d never seen one before the doco let alone in person…so when Stu did it, I was like fuck, I need to see this band.

I got in contact with The Murlocs first—with Ambrose—and that was a warehouse party somewhere in Brunswick. So I went to that and shot it for Purple Fashion Magazine’s online diary and sent Ambrose the photos. He was into them and asked if we could do some band photos together—and that’s how it came about. Shot The Murlocs, and then a couple of weeks later I met King Gizzard and did band photos with them, and then shot their gig at The Corner—this was October 2013—and then it all just snowballed from there. They started playing heaps of gigs around their Oddments album in 2014 when they did those gigs over a span of two weeks in ten different venues, or something like that. I went along to all those shows, and that’s how I became friends with them. 

There wasn’t heaps of planning. I knew I wanted to shoot bands, and I vaguely knew which ones I wanted to shoot, and [the rest] just came about really organically. 

The bands that you shoot and the political side to your work—you attend rallies in Melbourne, you speak about Indigenous rights on your Instagram. What I love is that there is a distinct correlation between the rights and justice that you’re speaking up about online, and the music that you’re shooting as well, the bands that you’re immersing yourself in. 

Is activism something that you’ve always been interested in? 

No, unfortunately it’s not something that I’ve always been aware of, and that’s mainly because I didn’t know [a lot]—they don’t teach you any of this history in school.

I went to my first rally in 2014 and approaching it on Swanston Street I had no idea how they worked. I didn’t know if I could just step in and start walking with people or not. I remember listening to Indigenous speakers telling their truths and realising that all the history that had been put before me in school was white mans account on what happened when Australia was colonised and the true brutality of it has been and continues to be covered up. 

There is somewhat of an indirect relation between the bands that I shoot and the activism. Heaps of the bands that I shoot—their lyrics are along the lines of anti-establishment, anti-conforming—that sort of thing. But they’re two very different worlds and it wouldn’t feel right to compare both to each other. 

Attending Indigenous rallies, you start to learn about what’s really going on—stuff that’s not in the news, stuff that’s not in text books, but that is very much going on in society. It’s 2020 and I’m still learning how to navigate myself properly and respectfully. It’s a very sensitive thing to cover, and to display respectfully and with good intentions. I don’t ever want it to come across as me trying to glorify my photography of the protest; it’s more about trying to take the message from the street, from the march, and prolong its message.

You’re trying to shine a light on an issue that’s prevalent and that won’t go away just because there was a rally.

Through music, I’ve gained this following— and I feel there’s a certain level of responsibility to shine a light on these issues. If you’ve got people looking at what you’re posting, I believe you have a responsibility to be vocal about social injustices happening on stolen land. 

For sure.

Have you ever had any copy cats? Like I said, you do have quite a unique style so it’d be easy to see if someone were trying to rip off your shtick. 

Well… I didn’t invent black and white photography nor am I claiming any styles as purely my own. I do find it uncomfortable when I see people posting similar black and white band images and then also black and white rally images but with just basic captions or maybe even just a #blacklivesmatter hashtag or something. But I try not to look at these things like that and realise that everyone is on their own learning path. I can’t say I’ve never Googled ‘What camera does **** use?’ but I think, as I’ve gotten older and I’ve worked in the same industry for a while, I’ve realised that there’s heaps more merit in running with something you came up with yourself rather than basing it on someone else’s style of photography. But again, this all doesn’t mean anything anyway. Nothing does. My photos will be here one day and gone the next. 

I think you’re caught between a rock and a hard place, because you take great care and great pride in the work that you do, so to have some blatantly ripping it off is a kick in the teeth.

I completely get what you mean. Rather than spread the actual message, they’re trying to glorify their activism—because there is such a thing as faux activism. You know, there are so many big issues and so much that’s currently happening, or just in life constantly. 

I think some people stay quite silent on matters generally, but then when it’s trending, that’s when they get involved and put on their activism cap. 

The perfect example of this is Black Lives Matter—when they had #BlackOutTuesday, people were posting black squares all over Instagram without doing any research or knowing what the core reason for that hashtag/trend was. People, without hesitation, jumped on that bandwagon, and that’s all that they did. They capitalised off that hashtag, off something that is so important and so prevalent but, in their eyes, they probably feel like they filled a quota—an activism quota.

Sorry, I’m rambling. This is something I feel very passionately about…

No, I completely agree. The majority of society are kept comfortable. They have their nice objects and homes to go to—with pubs and clubs to visit on the weekends, etc. And so, if you keep someone at that level of comfort, they’re less likely to rebel or stick up for injustices carried out against people not directly related to their inner circles. 

This isn’t something that just started, and this isn’t something that’s just going to end once the hashtag disappears. These are peoples real lives, and you posting a square isn’t doing anything…

So, I rambled but I completely feel you on what you’re saying. Faux activism is a thing.

I just feel like going to a rally and taking black and white photos might become normalised in the wrong way or something. I’m worried that it will become typical. I don’t do it to make beautiful images, I do it to document history properly and get the message across to a wider audience because we all know the media won’t pass it on correctly. 

But I think, at the same time, people can sense authenticity and know that you’re not releasing these images as an extension of yourself. You’re doing it to amplify messages—powerful messages.

Yeah, these things need to be spoken about. We can no longer hide in our own comfort. The way I see it is—if those in power don’t give a fuck about Indigenous heritage, their culture, their traditions, their land, their rivers, their air, their people, then what the fuck makes you think they care about you?

You’re absolutely right. And it’s up to us to continue to educate ourselves and each other—to speak out, to be more open and aware.

On the topic of being more open and aware, and in reference to something you mentioned earlier, I actually really want to talk about psychedelics. How would you feel about that?

I’m totally open.

Amazing! From what you’ve told me previously and what I’ve read in another interview with you, it seems that when you started experimenting with psychedelics that’s when…I mean, I want to say that’s when you really starting growing into yourself, but is that too wanky?

Nah, that’s a true statement. It definitely grounded me and stripped away everything that I didn’t need and kept everything that I did, and just sort of put me in the right direction. That’s what it does—it shows you what you need to know and puts you in the right mind-frame, rejigs your wires. It’s something that I would promote but not for everyone—not everyone will have the same results. Speaking from experience, I’ve only ever had positive results. Even if it’s a bad trip, in the long run, it’s a good trip. 

What made you take the plunge and try them? And what was that first experience like for you?

[The] first time I ever tried them was back when I was still working in fashion—I was working for a fashion label, Strateas Carlucci, and they used to use these photographers…they had a space in St Kilda and they would have these studio parties occasionally. I was at one of these parties and one of the photographers was walking around with a bag of mushrooms. My friends and I hadn’t done them before, and we laughed for literally the whole night. I hadn’t laughed like that in my entire life…that wasn’t a huge trip, it was just really giggly and fun.

From there, researching into it, I was like I want to do a bigger amount, and so I bought caps off the same guy…What made me try them was the curiosity of it. The first proper trip I had was [with] about five or six caps of mushrooms. It was just my friend and I in her shed. 

I think the positive side effects of it are subtle but long lasting—slight mood changes, or slight difference in your outlooks. Something that might have bothered you before doesn’t anymore. 

It’s funny because every time my friend and I would try a different psychedelic together, the next day when we were sort of trying to process what had happened the night/morning before, a doco would pop up on daytime TV which happened to mention/explain something about the particular psychedelic we did the night before. Another one of life’s funny workings/coincidences. 

I’ve always said that mushrooms are my favourite drug, or my favourite indulgent. I think it’s cool because, like you said, you can have those super giggly, cute, fun moments, but then you can also have those almost out-of-body experiences.

There’s nothing I love more than live music and mushrooms. I’ll never forget a few years ago, I was at Meredith and Jagwar Ma were playing, and I’d eaten a butt tonne of mushrooms and was just on another level. Their music mixed with what I was feeling and experiencing was another level of happiness that I would give anything to reach again. I felt like I was levitating, it was the most beautiful experience.

You’re right, though, not everyone’s going to have that same experience and it’s obviously not for everyone. But when people get it, it’s just so good.

It’s great. I also feel like it’s changed my personality heaps. I wasn’t chasing the right things or standing up for the right things, I wasn’t prioritising the right things, so I feel like that sort of reshaped that all for me. 

I look back on my fashion stuff and I very much see a different person—it’s almost like a past life in a way. It’s real strange to think about, but then they talk about when you do a massive amount of mushrooms and you break through and have that ego death…which I don’t think I’ve experienced completely. I don’t feel like I’ve died on a trip or anything, but I definitely feel like there’s a past life that I don’t associate with anymore.

I think it’s just about growth—I don’t know if you’re a spiritual being, it sounds like you might be—but I’m a pretty spiritual person, and I’m currently going through my Saturn Return. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of that…

No, I haven’t.

So it’s essentially from when you’re about 28/29 until about 31/32 and your whole life just spins on its head. The person who I was when I was 18 or 19, through to my early twenties and even when I was 25/26—that person is a distant memory, so I get what you mean.

Naturally you come into yourself, but the person you are now is because of the experiences that taught you what or who you don’t want to be. Like, you can’t believe you did the fashion thing, but without having done it, you wouldn’t be where you are now…

Very true, very true. That’s a great way to look at it.

Now. Tell me. Because I am so fucking jealous that you get to do this. But, let’s say you’re on a tour bus with King Gizzard…walk me through what the days look like up until the gigs at night, and what being there with them in that element is like.

It’s very much…the bus tours have been great, I’ve only been on two or three bus tours. Otherwise, they’ve been vans, and there’s a pretty big difference in them. A van tour, you really get to know the people you’re in the van with driving for 7-8 hours a day, but you don’t get to see as much as you do when you’re in a bus. 

Average day on a bus tour: we have a driver that drives to the next city overnight while we sleep in little bunk cabin things. We usually have the morning off to go have breakfast. Then sound check, a lot of hanging around, eating [some food in the green room]—corn chips and shit, everyone’s setting up, I’m taking photos, and then doors open and then the gig starts. Shoot the show. Then you pack everything down, get tipsy and then leave at like 2 or 3am—it kinda depends on how close the next city is, sometimes [we’ll be up] until 6am.

It’s not intense or anything— and it’s definitely not a party bus, it’s very much a working thing. It’s very fun to travel the world with your friends and wake up in different cities every morning and have those experiences together. Wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

That’s so fucking cool. I don’t know what I expected from that answer, but I dig that a lot.

Let’s transport ourselves to the future and pretend like COVID doesn’t exist—COVID’s done. What’s next on the horizon? What are your plans?

Oh fuck, I don’t know! Hopefully some tours, but I honestly don’t think I can answer that question at the moment.

I suppose where I’m going with the question is, is this going to be your full time gig?

Yeah! So when I initially quit [my other job] in March, it was because I’d just come back from a tour with Kikagaku and I was about to leave for America again and I hadn’t told my boss. [This] was going to be the hey, I’m gone and probably not coming back conversation, and I was just going to focus on touring and printing books. It was going well, I was gaining some momentum until all this shit happened. Now it’s all up in the air because we don’t know when we’ll be able to see a show again.

I’ve got books in the works. It’s given me a chance to go through my work and archive it and publish some work, and hopefully make a living that way.