Posted on June 15, 2018
When I pack my camera, Gavin says, Leave it behind.
But I don’t.
When I pull it out like a rabbit from a hat, Gavin says, Put it away.
But I ignore him.
I don’t photograph him because that would be annoying.
But once in a while, Gavin will say, Hey, dad, take a picture of me,
As he did here, having climbed to the top of a large rock formation,
Between Lovers and Divorce beaches in Cabo.
I said, Smile.
And I said it again and then once more because all good things comes in threes.
Wisely, he decided to look indifferent and accomplished.
And I didn’t throw away my shot.
Posted on June 4, 2018
“What could be more simple and more complex, more obvious and more profound than a portrait.” That’s Charles Baudelaire, a French poet and an art critic, on the mysteries of portraiture. And I think he’s right.
There are a million ways to botch a portrait, even in the best conditions. In my experience, admittedly limited, a good portrait is a minor miracle. You’re not really responsible for it, neither you nor the subject. It just sort of happens, unplanned, unbidden. At best, you hope it happens. And you practice and prepare to help the moment along when it does.
Take this young lady, for instance. She was sitting near a fire in a room surrounded by windows, overlooking Donner Lake. The light in the room was perfect. And the light on her face and shoulders was even better.
Can I photograph you, I asked.
Yeah, sure, she said, a little surprised.
So I went to work with an 85mm shooting wide open, gathering as much light as possible for a high-key portrait with a studio feel, even though we were in a public space.
Most of the time, she looked off lens, this way and that, musing on snow, wind and mountains.
Then it happened.
She bore down on the lens in a way to make a cyclops freeze. She held her gaze fast, serene and confident.
A little brain in my finger said, Shoot. And my finger obliged, thankfully, because Something ageless was born in that moment.
Posted on May 29, 2018
I call him Salty.
But his name is Anthony.
And when you’re trying capture something right and true,
It’s good to use proper names.
So this is Anthony.
One of the great gifts of photography is that, every now and then,
You witness something deep and abiding.
When that happens, it’s an incredible privilege.
The mask slips and, for a brief moment,
You catch a man reckoning with some great internal joy or pain—or both.
Posted on May 15, 2018
Meet V for Vinita.
She leads marketing for a startup in the City.
Yep, that City, the city by the Bay.
Often my favorite images don’t make the cut.
They’re not polished.
And they’re not worth sharing with the client.
Still, these outcast photographs mean a lot to me.
They capture fleeting moments of joy, surprise, laughter, happiness.
Which are they very things that result in photographs that do make the final cut.
Like this one.
Posted on May 15, 2018
Meet my daughter.
Sometimes we whisper Rampage.
It’s often fitting.
She’s on the edge of Lake Tahoe,
Striking her signature pose,
Ready to drain its immensity at a glance.
She’s loving and sweet,
Especially toward her brother.
But she’s also tough as tumbleweed.
She likes earrings and bruises, dresses and scrapes.
Man, I hope she’s striking this pose 20, 30, 60 years from now.
How cool would that be?
Go, Paige, go!