Sunday, February 27, 2011

Importance of Relationships with Subjects

People require time to get comfortable. A repoir needs to be developed between the photographer and the subject. This is especially true when dealing with the male photographer and a female subject, but it is true with all photographer/model relationships.

A relationship, one where the subject feels comfortable and more importantly feels safe, is generally not something that can happen in a few minutes time. It has to develop organically and this doesn't happen without time to pass for trust to be developed. Being the subject of a photograph is a personal risk. Exposing oneself to world is tough, allowing someone else to expose you to the world requires a high level of trust and this level of trust requires a good working relationship.

This type of relationship is best achieved by taking time for the relationship to develop. Rushing this development process can come across as awkward, uncomfortable and can actually prevent the relationship from ever developing right from the get-go. Another way to develop this relationship is to maintain a constant sense of safety and security. You can do this by allowing a friend of the subject, or a member of the same sex to remain within eye sight at all times during the times you work together. You cannot push a subject beyond his or her comfort levels. This requires respect. Respect for their boundries and beliefs. Respect means never asking them to do something they don't want to do.

The only way you can know the subject's boundries is to have open and honest communication. Communicate what the goals of the shoot are. Communicate what your intentions are. Allow the subject to open communicate goals, ideas and concerns. This is a great time for you to shut up and listen. Have compassion and interest in the subject's concerns, interests and ideas. If you are doing all of the talking, the subject will not get these fears, ideas and objections heard and guess what happens then; the relationship isn't going to reach a point where the subject is comfortable and relaxed with the shoot. One last thing you as a photographer can do to help develop the relationship is to progress slowly and show the subject one or two results from each pose. This allows to the subject to see the progression of the shoot and where your vision is going and in return the model becomes more relaxed and supportive of your vision.

If you practice these with each of your subjects, and are sincere about the relationship, the relationship willl blossom and the next time you have a project to work on, there is already a level trust and respect that can be built upon. If you don't, just remembers that maintaining the trust is easier than developing a new relationship and you will end up having to develop a new relationship.

Friday, February 25, 2011

A Day in the Studio

Amazing things can happen when you make yourself available. Earlier this week I had a friend come into the studio for some photos. Crizzly, yes that is a actual name since he did legally add it to his name, is a juggler, a Blackrock Ranger and a Chai Drinker. Crizzly is working on a little personal project and asked for some help. Below are the results:

[[posterous-content:pid___0]] My thanks to Crizzy for letting me help him on his little project.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The worst day at the beach....

...is still better than the best day in cubicle. 

If I could afford to live at the beach, even be homeless at the beach, I would be all over it. There is something about the sea that inspires; at least me. The smell of the salt air, the sounds of the crashing waves, the patterns that only nature can create and the constant movement of the world captured and on display twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. How can one not be inspired.

 

Sunday, February 20, 2011

A Day of Finding Gold

Yesterday was an amazing, albeit exhausting day. It started with my arrival at the Studio at 11:30 AM where I made myself a peanutbutter and jelly sandwhich and photographed a few series of images for a workshop I am developing with Joel Zak. Then Jonathan, one of my business partners, came into the Studio and we went for a walk downtown. We stopped in at various shops and stores looking at various products and tools to aid in our success, but I was simply looking for gold; photographic gold. Jonathan and I walked in the alleys, I was feeling very uninspired by my familiar surroundings. There was no gold in this alley for me. I asked Jonathan to walk with me. He sheepishly agreed. 

During our walk I came across a message that was written just for me. "I Am The Wall". An epiphany for me. Gold was all around me, I just had to get see through the wall I had built. How do I look through a wall? I have to tear it down. Sometimes, demolition is the path to creativity. Sometimes it is painful to tear down those walls. Sometimes it is refreshing. But reagrdless of emotion, tearing down those walls is healthy for the soul. Anything that is healthy for the soul is food for creativity. 

It took a while of walking, but after a half an hour I found my gold. I found a new project idea. I found a new alley to shoot in for the photography group and I found a little bit of myself. Hmmm. How could this day get any better? Food! Lunch/Dinner (or Linner) at Venti's got Jonathan and I talking about future studio projects; shoots, ideas, concepts, all gold. An hour later we are back at the studio, a few blocks away. It is time for me to get ready for the shoot with the group.

At 4:50 PM I head over to the rendevue point and we head out to the little piece of gold I found earlier that day.

Layers of gold laid in wait in this previously undiscovered alley and I harvested it for all I could while I was there. I  could have stayed there for another couple of hours, and may return there soon to harvest some more. But the group was ready to move on, so I led them down a path of new opportunities.

The same view with different eyes. I have led many groups through this little stretch of alley, but I saw it differently this time.

Then it off to the carousel and shooting some traffic lights. After this, everyone was done. But Terry wanted to walk some more, so I tagged along with him, and we chatted quite a bit while he shot a few things. At 8:00, I arrived back at the studio. I went downstairs to Clockworks and picked up a fantastic sandwich, Caprese Melt. I went back up to the studio, and began processing the images I had captured all day while I ate my yummy food. 

At 9:00 the show down in Clockworks kicked off. I went down, listened to two bands, Focus Focus and Pretty Things. Amazing show from both of them. I actually bought a CD from Focus Focus. At 10:30 I headed back upstairs to the studio. Finished up a photo and packed up and went home. 

Exhausted, I collapsed on the couch, watched the last three episodes of Criminal Minds Season 5, then headed to bed at 2:00 AM. What a day. It was a day of pure creativity, pure relaxation and pure gold. Inspiration same at me from all angles, but it was until after I realized that I Am The Wall. So I want to thank the randon graffitti artist or artists that put that message on the wall for me.

Friday, February 18, 2011

A Day at the Office

[[posterous-content:pid___0]]More important than the the security of money is the freedom to create. I don't expect you to understand, but simply accept this as a fact of who I am. If you can't accept this about me, let me show you the exit, because I am not going to change who I am to meet your expectation of how I should be and I will never you to change either... that's the way I work. 

[[posterous-content:pid___1]]

 

Saturday, February 12, 2011

A wild day at the beach

The whipped wildly all day long. The rain came falling at 4PM. We fed the seagulls at 4:30PM. The wind howled at 30mph.... the rain fell sideways.... the seagulls stayed in one place in the air, head into the wind waiting for their next bite of bread from my finger tips. I would not even get my hand more the a six inches from my body and the bread was stolen away in the yellow beaks of the swooping gray bodies. My wife and kids acting like scared little girls as twenty seagulls hover a mear 12 inches from our heads. I am giddy with laughter and joy and I reach for another piece of bread. With two pieces of bread remaining I reach for the best camera I have... the one that is with me. My trusty camera phone makes the last slices all that much more fun.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

A Day in the Life of...

It truly shocks me at the number of opportunities that have opened since my dark days of December. In less than a month I have opened a studio (with two other photographrs and a makeup artist), I am co-developing a workshop series with local fine art photographer Joel Zak, I am shooting images for display and sale in a gallery (a group event). I have portrait jobs lining up and there is so much more on the horizon it amazes me.

Today when I arrived at the studio I look out the back window and I see the park socked in with fog. I grab my camera and proceed to walk over to the park ( four minute walk) and shoot some images. It is random, exploratory and experiemental; yet refreshing and soothing. I spend five minutes at the park and proceed to walk back to the studio since the fog is burning off due to the sun. 

The flowers above were completely random. A boquet of colorful flowers were stuck in the fence of a roundabout walkway. I found it odd, yet interesting due to the fact that the flowers were the only color in an area of concrete, fencing leaf-less winter brush. Oddly enough is is the only photo of  the day with a resemblance of strong color as well.

This was my view as I walked back to the studio. I couldn't help but stop and capture the clarity that I was feeling at that moment; the choices I made were and are the right choices. Things are going good. I am feelings good. I am in a good place mentally. Why wouldn't I be... I am blogging from my studio, instead of my apartment. I am excited for what I have now and for what is to come. This is a typical day in the life of this photographer. How could it be any better?

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Studio247 After Dark

Studio247 (pronounced Studio-Two-Four-Seven) kicked off our door opening last night at the downtown Salem event known as First Wednesday. Our gracious host and partner was the wonderful Stephani Sachs, owner of The Space Between which is located on the bottom floor of the Reed Opera House. We had a stellar turnout of fun people for the kick off event. With Stephani's help, and the use of her space, we offered free Facebook portraits to anyone willing to come in and join us for the celebration. We had friends, family and complete strangers joining us for a fun session of fun Facebook portraits fun. We will be doing this again next month... so stay tuned for the announcement. Even with the ate night last night, I was in the studio this morning at 6:10 PM. Yes it was the butt crack of dawn, but was also absolutely worth it. See the image below.

So who is Studio247? We are Nathan Smith, Elizabeth Smith (no relation to Nathan), Jonathon Fraga and me. We came together to join forces to make our dreams come true and to give us a place to expand and explore our creative visions. You will be able to see more about soon by going to Studio247.biz.

We have a lot in store for the new studio, but for now we are getting settled in.

We do things a little different, but that is a good thing. We have a lot planned in the work, so more exciting things are coming. Contact us and find out for yourself just how different can be great..

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

The Tree Swing Incident

The tree swing incident is an event in my life that shaped my future. 

My family spends the day at two farms, one that our neighbor’s grandmother owns, everyone calls her Granny and the other that my aunt, uncle and cousin live on. The day is beautiful; the sky is sunny and the air is not too warm and not too cool. It is perfect summer day. 

At Granny’s farm, half way up a steep hill is an ancient oak tree; its branches reach for miles to the sky. Two tattered lengths of hemp rope hang low from one of the branches twenty feet off the ground sloping steeply away from the tree, connecting the branch to a two by four board. It is a scene from the cover of a magazine. A shaded oak tree swing lit by the warm summer’s light. 

My mom and I walk up the steep incline to the tree swing. Our legs start burning a little, much like they would if we had just like we walked up six flights of stairs. She sits on the swing to catch her breath. I look up and notice a branch that is providing us some cooling shade. 

I say, “Hey look up there,” pointing to the branch. “I bet you can’t touch that branch with your foot.” I know that my mom is afraid of heights and I don’t believe that she will take the challenge. But today is full of surprises. 

“You’re on”, she says. “Give me a push start.” 

I step behind her and pull back and the swing as I step back several paces. As I reach the perfect arch, where I cannot take another step backwards without losing my grip on the swing, I start a mad dash forward, the seat of the swing gains momentum in my outstretched hands. The swing leaves my hands at the other end of pendulum and my mom is launched skyward in her effort to complete the challenge. 

I walk back up the hill to the tree and root for her, even though I bet she couldn’t do it. As the swing comes back again, my mom folds her legs back to gain more momentum on the back swing. Then as the swing starts moving forward my mom throws her legs out propelling herself forward with just a little more momentum. 

Again and again she flies past me each time getting a little closer to the goal. Just as I thought she was about to give up, the leaves on the branch above us rattle and she lets out a little victory shout as her foot makes a solid connection with the branch. 

My mom drags her feet on the ground and with much less effort than it took to reach the branch, she comes to a stop. She stands up, takes a step away from the swing and points to it like a woman on a showroom floor, showing off a brand new sports car, and says with a little cockiness in her voice, “Let’s see you try it.” 

With the cockiness that only a twelve year old can muster I reply, “Piece of cake!” 

My mom provides me with the same start, although not nearly as effective as mine, and cheering the support I gave her during her successful attempt. Because I weighed twenty-five pounds more than my mom I was able to build my momentum faster than her. 

It wasn’t but four swings and my feet come within six inches of the branch, but no closer. I put my whole body into the next swing. On the backend of the swing, I throw my legs back as hard as possible and rock my upper body forward to gain the maximum momentum. The swing reacts appropriately. 

On the forward swing, I kick my legs out with all my might and rock my upper body back and the swing rockets forward and then up towards my goal. I watch as the branch comes closer and closer. 

Ten feet, I know that I have more than enough momentum to reach the branch. 

Five feet, I extend my toes out as far as they will go. 

Two feet, I let out my victory yell at little early in anticipation. 

Six inches, the branch moves away from me. 

I watch in slow motion as the branch passes horizontally in front of my face as I start slowing dropping away from it. I am not going to the target. I am now falling away from the branch in the wrong direction as my momentum carries me away from the tree and further out over the steep incline. 

I never heard the old hemp rope break, probably because it is rotted after twenty rainy winters in Oregon. It all happened so fast that I did not even realize that I was falling. 

I open my eyes and my family and the neighbors are standing over me. The only thing I hear is my mom, laughing and talking at the same time, “Thank God it was you, because that would have killed me.” I am lying on the ground taking inventory of my pains, which is everywhere, as everyone starts asking me if I am alright and our neighbor bends over, looks me in the eye and says, stone cold and straight faced, “I built that swing when I was fifteen years old and you broke it. You broke my swing.” Everyone laughed but me. 

I sit up and look back at the tree. I am over a sixty feet away from the tree. There is a twenty foot long skid from where I hit the ground to where I am now sitting. I feel like I was just hit by a freight train. I get up and hobble my way back to the pickup truck and lay down in the back. 

An hour later we arrive at my Aunt and Uncle’s farm. I am still feeling like I had been drug through a knothole and ran walked over by heard of elephants, but still I go to find my cousin out in the field to say hello, because he is my favorite cousin and I don't get to see him very often. He is riding his horse and is being a snobby little butt, so he ignores me. Since he is being a jerk and I am feeling a little less than myself, I walk over the fence to tell my mom I am going to go back to the truck. 

I feel a jolt, like lightning just touched me on the head. I scream out in pain and jerk back. I look and much to my amazement there was a little silver line running in a few inches in front of the real fence. I had just walked into an electric fence. I just walked away, with my head hung low. After that I spent the remainder of the day sleeping in the front of the truck. I was never taken to the doctor's office to get checked out, never had any checkups or exams or x-rays. That was the way things rolled in those days I guess; if you could get walk away from a three story fall your were good to go.  

I spent a day falling at least thirty (or more) vertical feet (since I fell away from the tree that was on a steep incline when I was a mere inches from kicking the branch that was at least twenty feet in the air) and then I was shocked by an electric cattle fence. I probably had a concussion because I lost consciousness when I landed on the ground, flat on my back. I was most assuredly in shock immediately after the fall and my body, although nothing was broken, felt like it has been put in a trash compactor. My body was put through all of that and still to this day the worse thing about that day is the fact that I lost a challenge to my mom, because I never touched the damn branch. I am defeated.