LIFE RIDES WITH THE HELLS ANGELS

http://life.time.com/culture/never-seen-hells-angels-1965/#1

If the purpose of a photo essay is to convey a certain story or evoke a particular set of emotions in the viewer, this series of photographs easily and artfully accomplishes this objective. These thirty four images of the outlaw motorcycle club, the Hells Angels, captured by photographer Bill Ray in the mid-1960s, instantly instilled a sense of intense longing deep within me. The exact derivation of this of this yearning proves to be somewhat of a mystery at first, yet by examining these photos more closely, I’m able to pinpoint the desires and emotions conjured by these powerful images of outlaw freedom.

The pure, I-don’t-care attitude of the fallen angels and their old ladies is captured in each and every photograph. Carefree facial expressions and relaxed body positions are contrasted with the often extreme nature of their actions and dissent of their law abiding and enforcing counterparts. Whether they’re slyly smiling, helmetless and defiant, flipping off the photographer while on the back of a motorcycle hurtling down the open road like a bat out of hell, or rebelliously smirking while receiving a rough pat-down or interrogation by an obviously disgruntled and uncomfortable policeman, the Hells Angels always appear calm, collected and disinterested.

The stark disparity between the untroubled, insolent attitude of the outlaws with the clear discomfort of upstanding members of society forced to interact with the Angels is emphasized by the usage of black and white photography. Strict usage of blacks and whites and grays suggests the sheer extent of separation between the outlaws and the society they’ve shunned, playing into the constant reminder of the risky life these men lead. By displaying a series of black and white photographs containing a pictures of a leather-clad young man drinking beer from a garbage can, a tranquil-faced daredevil pulling a wheelie with his old lady bravely holding on, tense police standoffs, painful hospital visits, two tough guys seemingly kissing for shock value, and countless bandits with wild eyes and tousled hair riding iron horses, the photographer appears to imply a certain message—

True freedom can only be attained by not giving a fuck.

A desire for this true freedom is the longing I felt when I first gazed upon this gritty, honest photo essay. These photographs encapsulate my craving to give up everything to gain everything, to reject common law and create my own set of rules. I want to not give a fuck.