this comedy photographer is stepping onto the stage
Snapping photos of some of the biggest comedians, bands and events in the world is one thing. Being the talent in the photos? That’s a whole other story.
Comedian-slash-photographer Nick Robertson is proving he’s a man of many hats at this year’s Melbourne International Comedy Festival. Presenting his sophomore solo show – Everything That Happened at Number 68 – from April 8th to April 20th, Nick is gearing up to tuck his camera safely away in favour of the spotlight and the stage.
We caught up with Nick to chat about what it’s like to go from photographing events to being at the centre of them.
You’re both a photographer and a comedian – how do you think each of these creative roles informs the other? They feed into each other way more than people think. I think it gives me a deeper understanding of what I’m doing on both ends. I approach photographing comics so differently now – it’s not about capturing the “best version” of a comic, it’s about capturing the most “them version’”. Because I’m so familiar with the comics and their stage personas, I’m trying to capture quirks, ticks and gestures that they do.
I also think the fact that I’ve been photographing more intensely over the past five years has changed the ways I approach writing comedy, especially with this new show. I can feel myself telling stories the same way I construct a gallery – all these small snapshots that feel like they stand alone, but when they’re held up together, they tell a bigger story. It’s what I’ve enjoyed the most about this show and I think why audiences are loving it too.
Everything That Happened at Number 68 is a comedy show about the experience of sharehouse living as a coming of age story – why do you think living in a sharehouse is such a pivotal experience for so many young people? I think sharehouses are such a formative experience, for better or for worse. They’re full of people learning how to be an adult – the teething issues of those experiences become such visceral memories. We think we’re adults, but we’re more comparable to a baby giraffe learning to walk. I don’t think we really know what we’re doing and we’re all just figuring it out together. It brings people together and tears them apart.
Sharehouse living consists of a dense period of intense first times, and you grow and learn and experience so much so quickly. I feel like your first sharehouse (at least in my experience) is you taking advantage of your adult freedoms – maybe a little too much. It’s that density of experiences that makes it inevitable to look back on when you’re older – even if you’re looking back with the lens of “did that actually happen? How did I live like that?”
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What is the funniest thing that has ever happened in a sharehouse you’ve lived in? Without giving too much of the show away, I’ve had two people piss on my bedroom floor whilst I was in there. Oh, and to clarify – this was two separate people in two separate houses. Fool me once, shame on you. But piss on my bedroom floor twice? I can’t help but notice I’m the common denominator here.
What is the top piece of advice you’d give to someone about to move into a sharehouse for the first time? FIND OUT THE RELATIONSHIP OF THE LANDLORD TO THE HOUSE AND WHERE THEY LIVE. I swear, if I could give my younger self that advice, I would’ve avoided some shitty situations. If they respond with “Oh, we deal with an agency” – green flag. If they respond with “Oh, we have a private landlord who lives two doors down and won’t let us call a plumber and sages the house instead” – RUN. (Yes, this might be a specific trauma memory to me, but the advice still applies.)
Which love came first for you – comedy or photography? Comedy came real early in my life – my first stand-up set was when I was 14 (which is far too young for a boy to be given a platform to talk about his opinions). Photography came along in my early 20s as a way to get to more gigs and events, but then took over my life. Even though photography is what takes up most of my time – most of the jobs are either at comedy shows or taking portraits of comedians – comedy is my first and forever love. The adrenaline rush is the same for both of them though. (Maybe it’s not a love of comedy or photography – maybe I’m just an adrenaline junkie?)
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As one of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival’s official photographers, how does it feel to go from behind the lens to in front of it as a performer, and vice versa? I feel like a totally different person when I’m doing either job. When I photograph, I feel like a fly on the wall, and when I’m on stage I’m bathed in attention. I think that’s what I love about doing both – it sums up my personality perfectly, smack bang in the intersection of introvert/extrovert. I LOVE attention, but only on my terms. I want to be perceived, but only exactly in the way I can curate myself.
It also feels like I’m at two very different stages of my career, despite it being in the same space. I’m photographing some of the biggest gigs in Australia and the world, but they’re gigs my performing self is years off from performing at. I think it really makes me work harder at both, and never lets the novelty of what I do wear off.