The Serial Box

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Tue, 10 Jan 2012 20:36:49 -0600

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"20 Seconds of Insane Courage" - A SXSW Story

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 20:36:00 -0600

Anne and I went and saw We Bought a Zoo last night. Now, it was mostly (really) campy, but it was definitely punctuated with moments of absolute brilliance. My favorite stories have always been the ones in which a normal guy, going about his normal life, realizes that doing something big is really just a series of small choices. One of the central themes is the idea that all it takes to really do something brave, something worthwhile, is “20 seconds of insane courage.” It’s a beautiful articulation of an easily overlooked truth. The gap between courage and fear just isn’t that wide. And if there is one thing that you need to make anything of substance, no matter how small, it’s courage.

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This past year, during SXSW, some friends and I spent the week there creating media under the moniker, Strata Press. It was a portrait project created by Eric Anderson, Cody Bess, Andrew Shepherd and myself. We secured studio space right off of 6th Street, in the heart of the craziness, and spent the week having a steady stream of bands in for portraits and interviews. It was a beautiful week of 14 hour days spent creating with friends. Now this was March, and I was fresh off of the Beyond the Still shoot, the premiere at Sundance, and a generally becoming convinced about this new direction; filmmaking. Yet, here I was, in the middle of a huge portrait project that was planting me firmly back in the world of photography. I hadn’t yet decided how photography was going to figure into my future work, if at all. I watched Eric and Andrew and Cody really shine. These guys are unnaturally talented image makers and it was both inspiring and intimidating to all be creating alongside each other. Healthy competition is definitely a huge part of getting better, but nearly every day, late at night, as we were collectively surveying the images from the day, I couldn’t help but feel like I just wasn’t really adding anything. It wasn’t that I was shooting terribly, it’s just that I couldn’t find that “thing” that was mine, that was my way of seeing what SXSW was. It felt like with very polaroid Eric pulled, every time Andrew breezed back in the studio from an alleyway portrait, every time Cody effortlessly re-invented the look of the cramped studio we were in, this pressure crept a little higher up the back of my neck.

Often, the first step in the process of creating your own particular style, your own way of seeing, is recognizing what isn’t you. It can be confusing because images you respond to, images you wish you’d have made, can all be things that wouldn’t ever be your style. Getting better at creative work is almost entirely about making better choices and discarding options to winnow down seemingly infinite possibilities into a single shape, image, mood. It takes maturity. It takes experience. It takes, in a sense, courage. Too bad these things are so damn elusive.

It was the last day, late in the afternoon, and that pressure had settled like a weight around my neck. I was staring out the back window of the alley and saw a couple drunkenly, hysterically making out. A little further down a waiter tap danced through ankle-high piles of broken bottles. And further still, a band was unloading brightly colored guitar cases that shimmered in the fading, golden sun. Suddenly, if a bit surpirsingly, it hit me. If I have a skill when it comes to photography, if I have a way of seeing, it isn’t in a studio. It isn’t in a set-up situation. It isn’t in a portrait transaction. It’s out on the street, when life streams by and all you can do is wade in to see what you might find.

So I borrowed Eric’s 24mm lens and slid down the back stairs without really thinking. I paused at the door that opened onto the intersection of 6th and Trinity, suddenly feeling terrified. I hadn’t shot anything on the street in months and months. It is, if anything, a skill you have to maintain. But maybe that doesn’t matter right now. I just needed 20 seconds of courage, as Cameron Crowe would have put it, to get out the door. I was going to be fearless and it wouldn’t matter who I pissed off, wouldn’t matter how uncomfortable I might feel…I was going to shoot the SXSW that I saw through my lens in that moment. Deep breath, and out the door I went.

Are the images unbelievable? No, of course not. But, again, that isn’t the point. The amazing thing was that as I was shooting, the weight slowly began lifting. It became apparent that that weight wasn’t anything but fear. Fear that I wasn’t a good photographer, that I’d been revealed a fraud by my friend’s talent, that I didn’t have anything to say, that I wouldn’t have anything to show for my time there. I was letting fear keep me from making something honest…

But there, in the fading afternoon sun, in the middle of the busiest intersections of one of the busiest music festivals in the country, with people swarming all around me, I suddenly felt a calm. This was right where I needed to be. And off I went, into the crowd, camera in hand…

"Don't quit your day job…"

Sat, 07 Jan 2012 00:24:00 -0600

It seems that some of the most consistent advice I received when starting down this professional path was often twofold:

/////KEEP A LOW OVERHEAD//////

In other words, you just don’t know how far above or below your baseline you’ll end up when you work for yourself, especially in a creative field. There is an ebb and flow to income, to success, to the work itself. You just have to do your part to minimize the impact the swings make on you, your family, and your ability to keep doing this work. It’s easier to do when you’re 22. Low overhead tends to be the standard, even among those heading down a more stable path. It’s a little harder when you’re 30 and all of your friends begin to make six figures working for oil and gas companies. Houses and cars and nice stuff ad nauseum can make you think that surely you should own more crap.

//////DON’T QUIT YOUR DAY JOB//////

The need for making an income is just a damn reality. If I could work autonomously making the things that I love, that have value, that are inspiring AND could magically make a living for me and my family, you know I would. In fact, I don’t have overarching career goals beyond that very thing. I want the divide between getting paid and making things that are worthwhile to close completely. But the reality is that it just isn’t always the case. It’s a confluence of factors. The largest of which is time. You don’t close that divide between substance and income without some blood, sweat, and tears. I’m talking years of it. So for now, we all have clients. We all have goals to meet that someone else set for us. I know we don’t like to talk about it, because we feel like if we have a “day job” then we haven’t really arrived or something. But it’s something I wish people talked about more often, because it’s a productive discussion to talk about how a day job could help narrow that gap. How a day job could help you log Gladwell’s 10,000 hours, could help keep you in the game, could help you accomplish what you’re setting out to accomplish. For some of you that literally will mean a day job. Insurance salesman type day job. So be it. For some of you that means shooting weddings. Some of you might work 20 hours a week at a coffee shop for health insurance. I don’t really care what it is, cause I’ll tell you what. I’m inspired by the people who have to go out there and make it happen, rather than the guy who lets his wife work a “real job” so he can fart around on the internet in a coffee shop all day. Or the guy who’s parents won’t cut him off and keep financing his “hobby.” Nah, if you’re working, and I don’t care where, I’m your biggest fan.

My SerialBox crew and I have been shooting for MTV recently and I can’t tell you how many times we’ve ended up chatting with other crew guys or people we meet in LA who ask us “why do you live in Houston?” And I always start with the question: what did you guys do this week? Most of the time the answer is “well, I did one freelance PA gig and then I updated my reel, and…” My answer? I had 5 shoots, edited three 3-5 min docs, shot w/ 4 different camera types, and had to gaff a really tricky scene for a larger project. And, I got paid to do it. Week in and week out. Why do I live here? Because I’m working all the time. And I know that it doesn’t sound cool to live here, but in the end, I know, but know, that experience is going to be a huge factor in quickly reaching the goals that I have. Maybe New York or LA is in the future for me, but right now, because I’m relatively new to filmmaking, working is the priority.

For me? I’m still self-employed, but I produce a ton of content for large churches and non-profits. The churches in Houston have huge production budgets, great gear, and are often supportive of trying some new things. In short, it’s a day job environment that lets me shoot with a variety of equipment, telling a variety of stories, for a variety of mediums. Broadcast, web, live, RED, Alexa, F3, grip trucks, narrative, documentary, promotional, commercials. Beyond that, some of the most talented guys I know are working for them in some capacity for these very reasons.

So, for me, while I fully explore this filmmaking path, that’s the decision I’ve made. I’ve found a “day job” of sorts, for now, that allows me to practice, to develop consistency, efficiency, a repertoire of problem solving experience, and yet allows enough flexibility to take on those projects that narrow the gap.

Now, I’m in the process of a full rebrand…new site, new cards, new reel. It’s always been tough for me to think about cutting a reel because I’ve felt conflicted over how much footage to show from my “day job.” The question has been, if I show things I got paid to do for clients, am I really showing the kind of work I WANT to get paid to do, or just the stuff that I’ve already been paid to do. It can be subtle, but there is a big difference. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized that the biggest hurdle for me is not finding the footage that really clearly shows who I am as a filmmaker, it’s being ok with the fact that I have a day job, even if it is just a particular kind of client work. But I shouldn’t be hesitant to say any of that.

And you shouldn’t either.

So, I’ll make you a promise. From now on, I’ll post some work that previously, I may not have. It isn’t that I am not proud of it, it’s just that social media can become about projecting the idea of yourself that you’d like to be, not the you that currently exists.

So, in that spirit, here are a few screen grabs of one of 18 videos I made during December with my good friend and SerialBox cohort, Daniel Karr. It was a promotional piece detailing the process of restoring a 60 year old bike from a hunk of abandoned metal, to fully restored, multi-thousand dollar bicycle. It played on Christmas Eve, at a church here in Houston, on an 80x25ft screen to just over 35,000 people. No pressure.

Now, let’s all get to work, the new year is upon us.

More blog soundtrack… You can download here.

Fri, 02 Dec 2011 07:05:10 -0600

More blog soundtrack…

You can download here.

New York via X100

Fri, 02 Dec 2011 00:58:00 -0600

About six months ago, I picked up a Fuji x100. I’d had my eye on it since it was announced, even selling a camera to get ready for when it came out. In my transition from photography to directing, I’ve come to realize that when I was ever good at photographing, it was on the street. It was in the wandering, in the back alleys, in the interactions with strangers. It was (and is) the best suited genre for the way that I see things. I’m not a compositor, I’m not a strobe guy. I’m not a set builder. It just took me a few years to figure it out.

About a year ago, I picked up my first rangefinder, a Bessa R2, and have since burned through more rolls of TRI-x than I care to admit. It’s not for anyone else. I don’t shoot that camera for paid work and I rarely show the images to anyone. That isn’t the point, really. Last December, I was able to shoot with an M9 and I can honestly say that it was the most satisfying photographic experience to date. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I was shooting on the set of a big budget commercial that I’d help write. That wasn’t really it though. A rangefinder helps me disappear in a way that I don’t normally feel capable of. For lack of a non-cliched phrase, it let’s me really “see.”

Well, a few weeks ago, Anne, Ellen, and I spent a week in New York. I had a few meetings scheduled, but largely we just spent time the three of us, wandering through the city. It was an amazing thing to see Ellen taking everything in. She’s intensely curious and I found myself frequently following her gaze to see what it was that she was so intently looking at. It was a beautiful few days.

I carried my x100 with me, shooting as we went. Then, late at night, I’d slip out and cruise the streets making photographs of anything that I could find…

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A few images:

I was out and about on the Friday before Halloween. It was the beginning of Halloween craziness in the city. Costumes and characters filling every nook and cranny. I decided that I’d shoot my x100 like a film camera. Never checking the back of the camera, dialing exposure from the viewfinder meter and my best guesses. I also decided that I would follow the “hand on the shoulder rule” (if you’re hand isn’t able to touch the shoulder of your subject, you’re too far away). Let me tell you, I was fearless. Hands on the shoulder, right up in people’s faces, camera ready. I was alert and gliding around the city.

I photographed for about three hours before I decided to head in, following a walk all the way across the island. I resisted the urge to look at the photographs I’d made until I got back to the apartment. I was absolutely stunned to realize that, after only four or five photographs, my memory card reached capacity. I’d forgotten to change cards before heading out and I’d shot all night on a completely full card. (Another x100 quirk - the “writing data” flashing lights still go off, even if it’s full). I lost everything, or rather, I never actually captured anything. I just stared at the camera in disbelief. But somehow, while sitting there at 3am, a full night of shoooting lost, I realized, in so many ways, the images are secondary. This kind of photography, the kind of photography that I truly love, is as much about the roads your feet walk you down, as much about the people you meet, as much about the moments you witness than it is about the final images…

Occupy Wall Street

I went down to Battery Park one night to meet up with some friends. I made it down the 1 to the park, but it seems the plan had changed while I was in transit. So suddenly I found myself with some time to kill and my X100 in hand. I walked a few blocks up to Zuccotti park to check out the OWS crowd. Like I’ve said before, I’m a crowd kind of guy. If there is a crowd of people gathered for some specific reason, I’m like a moth to the flame. I’m always curious.

It was surprisingly easy to get around and generally speaking, people didn’t mind me pointing the camera at them. I shot for about 30 minutes before I attracted enough attention that several people started trailing me around. When I took the photograph of the guy in the Guy Faulkes mask below, I felt a hand on my shoulder followed by a gruff, “why are you taking pictures.”

That was my cue. I turned and walked away.

A few images:

Interesting that only a few days later the police raided the park in the middle of the night and broke down the camp. It looked (and smelled) like they were going to be there for a long time to come…

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You know, it’s been a really interesting year for me. I’ve cut out nearly all the photography from my core business. Sure, I still get paid to take photos occasionally, but it’s rare. (Interestingly, I don’t engineer records anymore, either). It’s been a year of focusing. That isn’t to say that I don’t still love photography. I’ve just begun to finally put it in the proper context. I’m not a photographer. And I’m fine with it. However, for now, I’ve found that this little silver, finicky camera is a perfect way for me to scratch an itch that won’t likely ever go away. Photographing the streets I find myself on.

More optional blog soundtrack. Press play and move along, if...

Tue, 07 Jun 2011 12:47:29 -0500

More optional blog soundtrack. Press play and move along, if you so desire…

You can buy the song here.

StreetPortraits: Comicpalooza Edition

Tue, 07 Jun 2011 12:33:34 -0500

If StreetPortraits was a movie, I’d say it’s a genre film. It’s not a subtle adult drama. It’s more cops and robbers than Kramer vs. Kramer. We’ve become interested in heightened reality, interested in sub-groups, and interested in the activities that tend to inspire these large group gatherings…

After dinner with friends the other night, Anne and I pulled out of the parking lot of the restaurant and saw an enormous group of people on bikes, taking up every available inch of sidewalk and parking lot, even spilling out into the street. Hundreds and hundreds of people creating a huge swarming mess in the middle of the road. Cars were diverting, obviously irritated. I’m sure the cops were called. But, for some reason, instead of heading a different direction, I headed straight for the beehive. I drove slowly past them, windows down, trying to figure out why in the world they all were there. Anne started laughing at me. “You’re such a mob person…” I started laughing. I totally am. There aren’t more interesting places to ask “why” than the middle of a huge group of like-minded people.

Maybe that’s the best way to describe the iteration of StreetPortraits that’s emerging: We’re mob people.

A few days ago, while scouting for a SerialBox session, I stumbled upon some fliers for Comicpalooza, an annual comic book convention here in Houston. I noticed the dates and times and put it in the back of my mind. Could be cool, but it’s in the largest convention center here in a town and access to those kinds of events can be tough.

Cody and I decided it’d be dumb not to try. So we loaded up a cart full of gear and headed out Saturday night to try and catch people in the interchange between a costume contest and the all-night Steam Punk Ball. We figured, best case, we end up outside the main entrance, catching people heading into and out of the convention center. When we got there, there wasn’t much traffic in and out. We decided to head upstairs and see how close we could get.

A few business cards and phone calls with the festival director and security coordinator later, we were set-up in the lobby between the contest and ballroom, on the fourth floor of the convention center. Lights up, cameras out, and we were off.

This was by far my favorite session we’ve undertaken. The people were extremely generous and playful and willing to stop for portraits. Just because people have come dressed in costumes doesn’t mean that they are up for strangers making portraits. We had quite a few people turn us down. The ones who stopped though were having a blast. The most frequent question? “Should I pose as myself, or my character?”

Our answer: “Both, please.”

What a great night.

A few images:

A big thanks to Comicpalooza for allowing us such great access to their convention. We had a great time and loved getting a peak behind the curtain of such an interesting event that attracts such a fascinating group of people…

An Evening with Arcade Fire… [an addendum]

Mon, 23 May 2011 16:25:00 -0500

The beauty of Arcade Fire’s music in particular (and of art in general), is that often the collateral damage of creating something truthful and honest is that it connects with people across all kinds of demographic and situational lines. A highschooler trapped in the suburbs hears one thing, a near-father living in the middle of the city hears another. Yet, both are mysteriously true.

Now, obviously my experience with their music is filtered through the eyes of someone struggling with the sprawl of adulthood. I don’t want growing up to mean the murder of mystery in service of security. Naturally, I respond to the layers in the songs dealing with these same things. That is the specific why that comforts me in the “it’s going to be alright” that comes through in the music…

So that being said, if my previous post about my evening with Arcade Fire was the 30 year old yin, then perhaps this post is the teenaged yang…

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It’d been a long evening and the after party was wrapping up sometime after 1am. Joey and I walked out with Win to head back towards the buses. We turned out of the gate to head down the alleyway and three girls immediately popped up off the curb. They’d clearly been sitting there for quite some time. They cautiously approached and asked Win to sign a set-list they’d managed to get a copy of. They could barely contain their nervous energy. I assumed Win would be polite, sign a few things, and move on. It was late and beyond playing a show, he’d been cornered by fans all night at the party.

To my surprise, he stood and talked with the girls for nearly twenty minutes. They were gushy and excited and talked about how they can’t wait to get out of the suburbs, can’t wait to experience life “outside,” and how much the music made them feel like they weren’t alone. Joey and I stood off to the side, politely out of earshot. I know that feeling, the wanting a moment to interact with the person who has made this thing that you connect so deeply with. I didn’t want to encroach on the moment.

I only caught whispers of the conversation, but beyond the stories and the chit-chat, I did hear Win encouraging them to not give up, that there is a wide world to explore, that soon they will get to make their own choices…

In an evening of pretty poignant moments, this, to me, was one of the most meaningful. It’s easy for a band to play a show. To be charming and dynamic and create a moment on stage. I’m sure it’s tiring, that the road can be tedious, and the nights can be repetitive and long, but performing is what likely drew them into the profession in the first place. Nah, in my opinion, where the rubber meets the road is how a band interacts with fans in these little off-moments. It’s how they interact with the people who sit on a curb for hours just to tell you that your music makes them feel a little less alone. It’s what they say to the fans that drive all night and buy all your records and really connect with what you’re saying. Ostensibly the night was over for Win and the band. They could have nodded and smiled and autographed and moved on. But here were three young kids, fans, and Win stood with them telling stories, engaging.

Surely it was a special moment for them.

Win asked me to snap a quick photo for them. One of the girls handed me her camera and I took one quick shot as they were getting into place. Then one “official” pose-y one and we all parted ways. A few minutes later I said bye to Win and I was off.

///

Fast forward a couple days and I was neck deep in trying to put words to the evening. I posted this on twitter and ended up getting a response from someone I didn’t know. I navigated to her feed, figured out she had been at the show, and then noticed a reference to a story I had heard Win tell those three:

We exchanged email addresses and I shot her an email asking what it was like that night, why they waited for the band, and what it was like to get to tell a band that you love their music…

I’ll let Debora take it from here:

Where do I even begin?

My friend Kristin and I were left in total awe once the Arcade Fire show was over with. Even being 100 yards away from the band, you still felt part of what everyone closer to them felt. As someone on Twitter mentioned - An Arcade Fire show isn’t something you witness; it’s something you are a part of. And that’s exactly what that night was for me in particular.

As a teenager music is the only one thing that you’re completely sure of. It doesn’t judge you. It doesn’t ask questions. It just makes you glad that there are people out in the world that can share that one particular belief/feeling/emotion as you. Arcade Fire is what Nirvana was for teenagers 20 years ago. And I’m not talking about the exact type of music but how their music was so important that it shaped a generation. I’m really glad to be living right now in this moment. It’s nice to know that I’m living in a moment where an amazing band like Arcade Fire are universally connecting with kids all over the world. One specifically living in Houston, TX.

Interestingly, in the first email we exchanged, Debora attached the photo I snapped with her camera, along with this note:

Oh and on another note were you the photographer that took the photo of all 3 of us with Win??? If so I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart. There’s a photo attached to this email, and you captured the best moment known to history. Thank You.

I think it might be one of my favorite photos that I’ve taken, if only for how much it means to them…

[More blog soundtrack] In light of An Evening with Arcade Fire,...

Mon, 16 May 2011 13:11:44 -0500

[More blog soundtrack]

In light of An Evening with Arcade Fire, it seemed only appropriate…

Buy the song here.

An Evening with Arcade Fire

Mon, 16 May 2011 11:13:00 -0500

Confession: I haven’t, up to this point, been a huge Arcade Fire fan. I haven’t actively disliked them, not by any stretch. I have all the albums, I’ve loved several of their songs and many have consistently found their way into my mixes. No, it wasn’t that I disliked them, it was that I just didn’t quite get the obsession with them… They are a band that inspires rabid adoration and increasingly, rabid adoration from the some of the world’s most prominent musicians. Getting the stamp of approval from Elton John, Sting, Springstein, U2, Bowie, and the like surely indicates that something is going on, even if I didn’t quite get it.

Now I also know that if you’re a “true” music fan, then the amount that you like a band is supposed to be inversely proportional to the amount of awards they win. But, for some reason, watching Win put his Album of the Year Grammy on top of his amp and begin to sing “The businessmen who drink my blood…” I perked up a bit. Amidst the sea of tweets bemoaning the mainstream adoption of their favorite indie band, I thought to myself, this just got interesting… The truth is, it’s easy to whine and hand-wring and opt out of whatever version of mainstream culture you came from, grew up in. What do you do when you find yourself suddenly successful, adopted by the very culture you were standing against?

I pulled out my copy of The Suburbs and began to re-listen. It wasn’t long before I began to realize that I hadn’t really heard it the first time. The first time around, to be honest, I was moderately irritated at the whole “suburbs” thing. I’d written them off thematically. It’s a favorite subject among suburban reared kids to rail on the suburbs as mono-syllabic, homogenous, banal, or whatever other fancy pants liberal-arts school adjective you want to use. The whole “9-5 is a slow death,” “I don’t own a TV” (but you sure do own a computer), adventure-is-king, “stick it to the man” treatsy is, to put it bluntly, the realm of 22 year olds and peter-pan thirty-somethings delaying the inevitable. The entire framework of that discussion is way too binary, this-or-that, black/white to be compelling to me. Adulthood is way too complicated for such simplistic discussion. I had lumped their album into that category and let me tell you, I was wrong.

I was interviewing an incredible singer/songwriter named Thad Cockrell the other day and he brought up his favorite lyric from The Suburbs, “…never trust a millionaire preaching the Sermon on the Mount. I used to think I was not like them, but I’m beginning to have my doubts…” As Thad said, it was a beautifully candid piece of truth. I suddenly began to notice a much deeper discussion taking place within the album.

The thesis of The Suburbs is this: I used to think the tedium, the boredom, the bankruptcy of the rich and the powerful, the ever-expanding sprawl of my city, my heart, was this place, was this idea. But the older I get, the more that I realize that the sprawl, if I’m not careful, comes from deep inside of me… Or to put it another way: Growing up is much damn harder than it looks, and maybe being an adult means having to hold competing ideas in your head…

I don’t know, maybe it is just the place I’m in in my life. I’m standing on the precipice of 30. My baby girl is due in a month. I’m a reluctant adult navigating a modern world that is nuanced and confusing and beautiful and that, frankly, often terrifies me. But tell me music doesn’t open some secret passageway straight into the very marrow of our being. If music is the vehicle, then that night Arcade Fire was the tour guide. A picture of building something significant, of growing up, of facing the fear of failure, the fear of success, the fear of loneliness, the fear of opting out instead of courageously stepping into the gaps of adulthood. Music is strength for the journey, a buttress to the work of living life facing forward when, paradoxically, it only makes sense when looking backwards.

So that is the subtext that is swirling beneath the surface when I receive a call inviting me to come shoot their concert.* And not just the concert, but to hang with the band backstage and to film behind the scenes, to see the preparation, to peek behind the curtain of one of the world’s fastest growing and most interesting bands…

I’m not going to give a play by play of that evening that I had the opportunity to spend with Arcade Fire. They are an incredibly private band and I was asked in as their guest. They really didn’t limit our access in any way and as as such, don’t feel the need to reveal much in the way of details. I will say, though, that it was an absolutely incredible night observing, experiencing, and interacting with a band that will surely be around for a long time to come. I shot on stage during the show and it was truly special to see the crowd from that vantage point. From their vantage point. They look out across a sea of faces singing their songs, not primarily as fans overwhelmed by a shock-and-awe-multisensory-experience, but as peers. They look out on a crowd singing their hearts out, as if they themselves wrote the songs blasting from the speakers. In short, they are looking out on a community built on music that is trying its hardest to be honest and truthful.

And in that moment, I became more than just a newly minted turbo-fan. I became a part of the band…just like everyone else there that night and it seems, just like they’d always intended it to be. We were all in it together, singing our hearts out, telling each other it’s all going to be ok…

So, here are few images from the evening, taken in-between filming, in-between wondering how in the world I ended up here:

A few screengrabs of some of the video I shot. I was just one of eight cameras capturing the evening:

*An enormous, gigantic, huge thanks to Joey Mathews for inviting me to be a part of his crew that night. I won’t ever be able to thank him enough for taking a chance on asking me to cover such an important gig for him (we’d never met!) and inadvertantly allowing me to be a part of one of my favorite nights in my professional life…

"Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling five balls in the air. You name them - work,..."

Wed, 16 Feb 2011 12:40:47 -0600

““Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling five balls in the air. You name them - work, family, health, friends, and spirit - and you’re keeping all these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls - family, health, friends, and spirit are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged, or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.””

- Brian Dyson, CEO of Coca Cola Enterprises from 1959-1994 (via jeremycowart)

Story Behind the Still: A Manifesto

Fri, 21 Jan 2011 01:26:00 -0600

*I’ve been sitting on this post for weeks. Not really because I don’t know what to say. That really isn’t a problem on this one. This process has been such an incredibly inspiring and enlightening series of events. In fact, as I’m typing this I should be packing for Sundance. This little short film I made with a couple friends and no money is screening at Sundance for crying out loud. Good grief. No, it’s not that I don’t have enough words to describe everything, but rather, it seems that the fastest way to lose the motivation, clarity, purpose you gain from an experience like this is to talk too much about it. It’s like it releases the pressure valve, so to speak. Perhaps there will be fewer words this time. A few anecdotes, some images, and I’m out.

///

If you follow me on twitter, you know that I recently spent a little over a week in LA filming the final chapter in this Beyond the Still story. We, the chapter winners, wrote the story together and Vincent Laforet directed. The final, completed film, will premier this weekend at Sundance. Well, suffice it to say, this has been a defining experience for me, though not necessarily in the ways that I expected. I thought I’d be overwhelmed by the gear and the size of the crew, and well, honestly, by the catering truck (think about what kind of budget that implies!). I thought everything would be bigger and shinier than it is back home and that all these things would serve to build a barrier of sorts. That the divide between my current projects and this “real” one would be so vast that it’d feel impossible, insurmountable. Yet, to my surprise, my most immediate reaction was relief. When I’m shooting a little micro-budget short or EPK or something, I’m constantly put in a situation in which I’m often the be all end all. I’m setting up the boom, the camera, the shotgun, trying to chat up the client, essentially this “would you like some water? oh great, hold on just a sec, have to run the cable to the light…” is on repeat. I guess I’ve just never known any different. Yet, here, I walked onto set, my first real set, and was instantly put at ease by the division of labor. Sure it was overwhelming to see the difference in scale. But honestly, and I mean honestly, I breathed a sigh of relief. THIS is why it feels so hard at home. I vowed right then and there: I will (must) work on bigger projects.

Now, I’m not saying money solves problems, in fact, even on this shoot, budget was of great concern. And of course, boundaries foster creativity. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about a fundamental realization that to transition from photography to filmmaking requires moving from a one-man operation to a crew. Solo effort to community effort. And let me tell you, it was amazing to see a full-on crew of professional crafstmen work.

Now, Vincent was kind enough to loan me his Leica M9 for the length of the shoot and believe me, I used that camera as an excuse to stay as close to the action as possible. I wandered, asked questions, observed.

A few images:

Joe DeSalvo // Director of Photography - Chapter Eight

We were fortunate enough to have Judd Nelson as a lead in our short. He was extremely gracious with his time and did an outstanding job. He’d seen all of our chapters and made a point to tell us both what he did (and didn’t) like about them. He was a great addition to the project and told some pretty incredible stories for hours at the wrap party…

Now everyone who has asked me about the shoot has asked how it was working with Vincent Laforet. I didn’t really have any expectations going in, to be honest. We’d had a chance to hang out in a non-work setting in New York during the Vimeo Festival and by the time we all made it to LA, we’d all probably exchanged hundreds of emails via our mailing lists as we wrote the script. We live in an interesting time in which one can garner a significant following with significant influence in certain circles, and essentially, not have the talent to justify their standing. I can say, after working alongside Vincent on set, he is not one of those guys. He is an extremely talented guy. But beyond that, he was, in the midst of a pretty chaotic environment, the calmest person in the room. He wasn’t afraid of making decisions (quickly if needed) and had a clear idea of what he wanted. I can honestly say that I was proud to work along side him.

Matthew Holdenried // Tall Man - Chapter Seven & Chapter Eight

In a week full of take-aways, perhaps one of the most significant was something Vincent may not even remember saying to me. He kept a chair open next to him during the length of the shoot that was open for any of the chapter winners to come and sit, give input (occasionally), and generally to be as close to the action as possible. We would rotate in and out every half hour or so. Of course, as you’d expect, those thirty minute chunks were some of the best moments on set.

At one point, I take my seat next to Vincent. We had just finished with a setup and the crew was beginning to re-set for the reverse shot. Lighting change, set change, camera placement adjustment, etc. Vincent leaned over to me and said, “Alright, on this setup, you’ve got free reign. If anything isn’t really working, tell me what you want to change as they get into it and we’ll make it happen.” He then stood up and went to go grab something to drink. I was left standing in front of the monitors as the crew was feverishly working. I swallowed hard, then pulled out my notebook and began making notes. Lights too hot here, gel color too hot there, angle of the bedside table is off, etc, etc. By the time he came back a few minutes later, I had a list of over a dozen things to change. He leaned over, looked, and said, “Ok, we’re shooting in three minutes. I’ll check back in two minutes. Hold tight till then.” He stepped out to confer with the clients. I looked back at the monitor and something amazing happened. The lights were quickly and quietly diffused, color gel was swapped, the bedside table was adjusted…quite rapidly the items on the list were being crossed off, one by one, without so much as a word from me. Before I knew it, 60 seconds out, only two things remained on the list. Vincent looked at the list one more time and after getting the word from the AD that they were done, called in one change. While he was doing that the last thing on my list was crossed off by an art department adjustment. He then turned to me and said, “See that? That’s called hiring the right people and letting them do their job. Nothing brings this whole ship to a grinding halt faster than speaking too early, micromanaging. Let your crew do their job. Give them an opportunity to perform. Only then should you step in to make adjustments.”

Words to live by.

The audio guy actually really loved how many questions I was asking him… (cause well, I don’t think anyone usually talks with the audio guy)

Trailers and trucks (everywhere)

That’s a technocrane and it’s amazing (and expensive).

Braeden Marcott // The Cabbie - Chapter One & Chapter Eight

Vincent and Greg, the first AD. Greg is doing what Greg does best: checking the shot list against the schedule…

Tony Leech // Director - Chapter Seven

Perhaps the best thing to come from this shoot was the chance to get to know the other chapter winners. These are some wickedly talented guys. One guy finished up a Target commercial before heading out for the LA shoot. Another was recently the DP on a Ken Burn’s documentary. One guy already has a feature under his belt. Some of these guys have agents, all of them are going to be people you’ll hear from in the future. I couldn’t have been more excited to find out that in addition to being talented, they were great people to spend time with. We drank beer together, talked about where we’re headed, and generally had a great time. I stayed an extra several days after the shoot and managed to meet up again with most of the LA based winners. I met up with Keegan Uhl, the Chapter Three director, and even lent a hand on a spec commercial shoot (which looks amazing).

Jason Wawro, 1st AC (in the hat), is pulling focus with a remote focus unit. He had a hell of a job on several shots that he had a critical hand in making look stunning…

12K HMIs everywhere you look…

That’s me, sitting next to Vincent. Honestly, this image probably sums up this entire Beyond the Still thing better than anything I could say. Quite simply, I want to be in that chair again. I felt comfortable there. I felt inspired there. My plan is to get back there, and soon.

At one point we were chatting with the EP of the production company and Keegan and I asked her, “how do we get back here, how do we get back in that chair?” Her response was deceptively simple: “Make something awesome. There aren’t that many people making something amazing. If you do, we’ll see it and that’s the fastest way back here.”

Fair enough.

So, no need for big wordy “In 2011…” posts or resolutions or plans. Just one professional goal for me this year:

Make something awesome.

///

Below you’ll find a great behind the scenes piece that Blake Whitman (of Vimeo) put together using material the gathered on the shoot. It’s a pretty good taste of what it was like being there:

The Story Beyond The Still “Corridors” - Behind the Scenes from Blake Whitman on Vimeo.

Also, big thanks to Vincent for letting me use his M9 for a couple days. What a beautiful camera…

More blog soundtrack, if you so choose… [buy it here]

Wed, 19 Jan 2011 13:02:00 -0600

More blog soundtrack, if you so choose…

[buy it here]

Set Extension, Please...

Fri, 24 Dec 2010 16:13:00 -0600

So, a few weeks ago Cody and I made portraits at the Harry Potter premier. We managed to talk our way into the theater itself and set up right next to the concession stand at the local multiplex. We knew that most likely we wouldn’t be able to set up a full backdrop system, so we just brought in a small bounce card. We planned, from the beginning, to just expand the background in post.

Now I’m not a photoshop expert. In fact, nearly 90% of the photographs I make never make it out of the develop module in Lightroom. Cody came over and started working on a few of the portraits and I suddenly realized that this process could be extremely helpful in quite a few situations. So I asked Cody to explain the technique as he quickly ran through an example portrait in photoshop.

Now, we made the assumption that you know the tools and principles to do this (relatively) simple process, so if it’s moving too fast or you’d like something else explained, feel free to fire away :) (Or if it’s all laughably simple for you and you do this kind of thing all the time, then feel free to skip this one!)

Photoshop Tutorial - Set Extension from Ryan Booth on Vimeo.

*If you’d like, feel free to hear some of the people in...

Wed, 01 Dec 2010 15:19:00 -0600

*If you’d like, feel free to hear some of the people in line speak [in their own words] a bit about why they came and lined up in the rain to meet Sarah Palin…

Cody and I have been talking a lot about StreetPortraits lately…what it means, what we’d like to accomplish, and how this could fit into the broader media landscape. I guess I’ve always seen this project as an exploration of community and of the things that bring people together. It’s manifested curiosity about the people/places/things that somehow capture our collective imagination. I’m interested in the things that inspire us enough to wait in line, to camp out for hours, to drive hundreds of miles…

The flip side is that I am largely uninterested in the figures that inspire the “community.” Honestly, I could care less about Sarah Palin and what motivates her. I could care less about the marketing strategies and the PR and the image massaging. In our hyper-consumeristic, hyper-marketed society, I generally get what the top of the food chain is going for. Personality as commodity. Message as saleable. Got it.

No, what sparks my curiosity are the people that so strongly identify with the Person, the Message. I’d much rather meet the “regular” people at any given rally, parade, opening, book tour. The ones who wait in line are infinitely more compelling to me than the current figure at the sharp end of the economic spear.

When we heard that Sarah Palin was coming to town on her book tour, we knew that, given how polarizing of a public figure she is, this wouldn’t be a casual crowd. This would be the group of people who would drive for hours, camp out the night before, and rehearse the lines they’d want to say to her as she signed their books…

Turns out we were mostly correct…

You know, I know I’ve said it before, but I’m always amazed at how willing people are to let us make images, to tell us their stories. As a result, with this project, it is my highest goal to be respectful of that willingness… I’m not trying to make a statement (now or ever). If these “big cultural events” are a tree, then I see our role being that of the researchers who take a core sample and count the rings…

So, in that spirit, here’s our core sample from a crowd of 500, waiting to meet a former governor on a rainy Texas morning:

[pinkish images by me, greenish images by Cody]

Many thanks to our assistants who answered the twitter call, ChelC and Joseph. Portability and speed are essential elements to this project and they helped us immensely. Check out their work if you have a second…

// For those that care, gear we used: Canon 5Dmk2, Nikkor 85mm 1.4, Canon 24-70mm L, Profoto 600r, Photogenic softbox umbrella, Pocket Wizards \

*music by Jon Hopkins

Haiti via Rangefinder...

Tue, 23 Nov 2010 12:08:12 -0600

Anyone who spends any time shooting overseas will struggle with the ever-present variations of the “when should I shoot and when should I put the camera down” questions… As our planet shrinks, the ubiquity of digital cameras firmly takes hold, and the volume of visual images reaches saturation point, we’ll all need to weigh the cost/benefit of the images we seek to create. My friend Esther Havens has even begun speaking about this at conferences. Her presentation? “When to Put the Camera Down.” The thesis of these questions is really one of purpose and interaction. How can we partner, come along side, make something together rather than take, gawk, and ultimately disengage…

Now, I have had the honor of traveling to Haiti twice this year. The first as a part of a team documenting small stories of rebuilding in an effort to help connect stateside donors with organizations that fly well below the radar of the national media. The second trip was to produce video content documenting water well repair, made to accompany Advent Conspiracy* related events this Christmas season.

Both trips were specifically aimed at creating video content, so I had all the accoutrements you’d imagine. Steadicam, mics, audio recorder, tripod, slider, lenses, multiple camera bodies, boom poles, etc…the whole deal. Now, it takes a ton of gear to pull off even a small video shoot. But, the consequence of all this gear is that you tend to be a bit of a spectacle. I mean, the only way for a 6’3” blond haired white guy to stand out more in Port-au-Prince is to have full production equipment. Beyond that, I feel a bit trapped behind all of that gear. I feel walled off from really interacting, engaging, really meeting the people that I’ve been tasked with shooting.

After I returned from my first Haiti trip, I found a little used 35mm rangefinder camera on ebay. It’s tiny, near silent, and just looks different in a sea of DSLRs. I guess I just really missed getting to interact with people. My camera has always been my passport into the lives of those I’m documenting and I just felt this connection broken by a digital wall of gear. I vowed that if/when I had the opportunity to go back, I would make space to make some images with nothing but myself and a little camera. That I would wander and interact with intentionality.

I think part of the danger of digital image making is the ease with which you can create such a staggering volume of content. Not because the content in and of itself is bad, but because it fosters a posture of near constant shooting. You are only limited by battery levels and the size of your memory cards. You can shoot and shoot and shoot without needing to stop (re: think). Something happens when you aren’t really curating moments anymore. Everything starts looking like a photograph, a scene. People become subjects-in-an-image-I’m-going-to-take instead of real people deserving of honor, respect, and thoughtful engagement. Digital imaging, sadly, can foster a drive-by mentality. The least we can do, as content creators, as guests, is to take the time to meet and really interact with those whose images we make.

I remember sitting, years ago, in a fantastically ornate ballroom room in a hotel in Cambodia during the Angkor Photo Festival. I was listening to a conflict photographer talking about the pain he feels when he comes back home from an overseas assignment. He shook his head slowly as images of pain and suffering he’d taken flashed up on the presentation screen. He slowly wondered aloud, does any of this make any difference at all? Silence hung in the air. Then, with a crack in his voice, he said, “I hope I haven’t taken more than I have given…”

It was a heartbreaking moment for me, a 23 year old kid. I had just come in from shooting images of young children hanging dangerously close to the red light district of this small town. It was then, though perhaps unintentionally, that I began to chew on these questions. What is the point? What can be accomplished by visual media? To be honest, in all the traveling I’ve had the opportunity to do since then, those questions haven’t been lessened. If anything, they’ve intensified. But what has become clear is that the way I interact with people overseas is the most critical of endeavors. If I can make something with new friends, rather than take something from an unnamed “them,” then I can lay my head on my pillow at night…

For instance, on this last trip, we ended up in one of hundreds of impromptu Tent Cities talking about water needs with the “city” leaders. They walked us around showing us the staggering divide between what they had and what they needed. As we were walking, I spotted a guy, about my age, sitting at the entrance to his makeshift tent home. I stopped, passing off my steadicam rig to someone on our team. They kept walking. I introduced myself and struck up a conversation in broken french. His name is Maxime and as I guessed, he and I are the same age.

I sat on the dirt at the entrance to his home as he told me about his wife who died in the quake, showed me a picture. I showed him a picture of my wife. He asked if I had children. Not yet. “You should,” he said, continuing with a phrase I didn’t understand. I turned to Cody, our Haitian translator. “My daughter is beauty in these ashes,” he said. I turned back to Maxime and couldn’t find the words to respond. He took my hand and said, “Vraiment.” I asked if I could make a portrait. “Of course.” I took one photograph, shook his hand. He pulled me in for a quick hug and then we parted ways.

Maxime // Tent City // Port-au-Prince, Haiti 2010:

What am I trying to say? Mostly, let’s, as people, really be in these moments together. I’ve just noticed that film, structurally, requires a different method of shooting. It imposes a sense of discipline/interaction that digital can allow you to ignore. Mostly through two things: you don’t have an infinite number of shots to take and you don’t have a screen to immediately look at. I’ve found that very deliberately choosing when to shoot and then looking the person in the eyes immediately after making an image [instead of a screen] makes all the difference in the world.

So here are few images created on my last trip to Haiti, days 208-212 since the earthquake. I hope that they convey a sense of place.

All Ilford 3200asa b/w film. All made a little more slowly, with a little more subtle intention:

*[Advent Conspiracy is a beautiful idea. What if we spent the Christmas season engaging with each other, thoughtful interactions, presence instead of so many (unnecessary) presents. Then the money that’s been freed up can go towards providing clean water.]

More blog soundtrack…just press play and move...

Fri, 19 Nov 2010 19:15:41 -0600

More blog soundtrack…just press play and move along…

(Bon Iver covering Peter Gabriel’s Come Talk to Me)

StreetPortraits: Harry Potter Edition

Fri, 19 Nov 2010 19:13:00 -0600

I am a sucker for large scale cultural events. I can’t help it. Parades, national holidays, World Cup, even concerts to some extent. I’m just interested in things that can draw so many disparate people together. Maybe it’s just that there is something that feels so liberating to be standing inside of something that is so clearly bigger than yourself. Nevermind that this particular cultural event was, well, a movie.

Now, I have a special place for the “Midnight Premier” crowd. I must confess, I’ve waited in line for plenty of midnight premiers. Star Wars, the Matrix, even Lord of the Rings. It always feels a bit like the Island of Misfit Toys and I love that. It is like a night of role-reversal. Suddenly it is cooler to be a turbo fan, in costume, swishing through the theater… Devotion is the measure of social standing.

One girl had a vintage suitcase that she really wanted to show me. Inside the suitcase? A dozen beautifully hand-crafted wands. Hand-carved, stained, whittled, complete with metal inlays. They looked incredible. She was there with her husband, a literature professor. They looked fantastic and were unabashed in their love for Harry Potter. They see themselves in the story.

Another lady hand knit herself a Gryffindor scarf and came to the midnight premier by herself. She wore a cape and the lightening bolt. The interesting thing? She’s an oncological surgical resident at M.D. Anderson, arguably one of the very best cancer centers in the country. With what (little) time I’m sure she has outside of such a demanding job and she decided to spend some of it making her costume for a premier of a movie about a book she loves.

Kids told us of their parents reading the very first Harry Potter books to them as bedtime stories when they were six or seven years old. They have literally grown up with these characters.

In the grand scheme of things does this really matter? Probably not. But I guess that depends on what you think matters. What did I see last night? I saw community. I saw people drawn to something outside of themselves, I saw what happens when people engage with a story told well. We begin to see ourselves in a different way.

My friends Trae Stanley and Casey Grahm were there as well. They brought an audio recorder and a mic and managed to interview nearly everyone that we made portraits of. We’re all going to sit down and cut together a multimedia piece and present it at a later date. The interviews were pretty poignant, in fact. I think it will stand on its own once Potter-mania passes this weekend.

For now, I just thought I’d show a few photos from our StreetPortraits: Harry Potter Edition.

More to come…

Yeah, a kid came dressed as a Chicken, cause as he said, “When else are you going to get a free pass to wear a chicken costume?”

*If you care: We used a Profoto 600R in a backpack, with the head mounted on a boom pole. We just held up a grey bounce card behind the subject as a backdrop…

New York, Via Mobile

Tue, 19 Oct 2010 22:28:00 -0500

I’ve just returned from a pretty whirlwind, bi-coastal, three week, holy-crap-is-this-really-my-job kind of trip. I had the privilege of shooting for Jedidiah, a San Diego based clothing company, for the first week. We shot in Los Angeles, in Miami, and finally ended up in New York. It was an amazing few days and I’m sure that as we get closer to the collection release (Fall 2011!), you’ll start seeing media from the trip.

That isn’t the point of this post, though.

I spent almost two weeks in New York on this trip. I stayed long after the gig was over and spent time exploring on my own, connecting with overlapping circles of friends and colleagues, taking a few meetings, attending the Vimeo festival, and finally relaxing with Anne. It was a pretty incredible, packed, tiring, exhilirating couple of weeks. Kind of like New York, I guess.

I spent a surprisingly large amount of time without my “big” camera(s). It was the end of a week of 14 hour days of shooting. I guess I was just a little more methodical about when I decided to use them. Especially given that often I was with other guys who had their cameras with them. If there is anything I really don’t like, it is being in a pack of photographers :)

So, as a result, I made a pretty decent sized chunk of images with just my iphone, if at all. Some in passing, some on purpose. I didn’t really think much about it at the time, but it is interesting to look at them compiled now… I ended up shooting a bunch of G10 images as well as several rolls of 3200 asa Ilford in my rangefinder. I’ll post some of those at some point as well. I’m still in debriefing mode, so I’m sure I’ll post a bit more about the trip later, too.

For now: no reflection, no interpretation. Just New York via mobile:

*If you care* Gear used: iPhone 4 camera, ProHDR app (sometimes for capture, always for post), Autostitch app, and CS3 to resize and lay out the diptychs

More blog soundtrack…(headphones-in,...

Tue, 19 Oct 2010 18:56:56 -0500

More blog soundtrack…(headphones-in, walking-around-new-york kind of music)

[buy it here]