Someone You Love

December 26 - 27, 2021

This particular collection took place the day following Christmas. I once again spent the holidays with my family in Oregon, and we were graced with a blanket of snow which drifted in quietly following Christmas Day. I slept the night of its arrival at my parent's house, lulled back into a state of childhood. As they retired for bed, I wandered the hallways, transitioning between the warmly lit living room decorated with the Christmas tree and occupied by Lucy who slept uneasily on the couch, one-eye cocked open, following me, and the dark corners of back room, whose windows opened out onto the backyard and in the dark gaze of the twisting branches and the soft sheets of snow. The white of this powder dimly illuminated the world as the city lights diffused themselves onto the overcast sky and scattered a dull brown-orange hue. I was once again reminded of "The Forest in Winter at Sunset" by Theodore Rousseau.

At that point and still now, I was plagued with nightmares the frequency of which I hadn't experienced since childhood. I have several theories as to why this occurred and I could perhaps spiral into a long-winded tangent with a few notable examples, but regardless, the resurgence of these dreams stirred in me a desire to express them through photography. I had a larger concept that I was developing, and this particular night made clear a few strange parallel moods.

I felt the warmth and security of living with my parents, and the subsequent feeling of dependency, a surrender of responsibility I had once accepted as a child. As I moved between the small spaces of comfort and the unlit fringes of the house, I remembered the intense fear of my childhood and of my early nightmares and how closely, paradoxically these two states of being stood together.

I sat on the carpet floor and stared vacantly up and out through the window and onto the dark hanging branches that tore through the dull brown expanse of the sky. Within these photographs, I resisted the urge to bring up the exposure and reveal the contents of each scene. It was antithetical to my style of editing, but necessary to articulate the dim snow against the dark corners of the frame, and the strain on one's eyes as they attempted to visually conquer the photograph.

Each photograph is titled after a phrase heard in a dream or perhaps mumbled by a sleeping loved one; a phrase that manages to penetrate the wall of the mind and escape the lips into reality. As the expanding dread in each image increases, the phrases become deep breathes followed by silent screams; meaningless remarks that nevertheless produce terror because what follows them is all the more terrifying.

Dead Engine Concert

Invoice 005 - Dead Engine, Brick and Mortar Music Hall Concert (December 12, 2021)

I was introduced to Dead Engine's drummer at a party through his girlfriend, a close friend of mine from work. The band had recently ditched their last photographer and were looking for someone to shoot them for an upcoming concert. I immediately leapt at the offer, not so much out of confidence but a forced habit to accept any financial opportunity. I had no experience with concert photography and given what sliver of a comfort zone I occupied, I was immediately terrified, so much so that I nearly offered to shoot the event for free. Their drummer was kind enough to refuse and I wound up actually earning more than my fees would dictate.

The second phase of the assignment was the concert, which I awaited with dread. Dead Engine would be performing at the Brick and Mortar Music Hall in San Francisco, which was roughly an hour away. I nearly abandoned the assignment out of stress when I spent over 30 minutes circling around the same four blocks trying to find safe parking after dark. Luckily, the band wasn't up first and I had more time than I realized to settle in.

Once I could relax, I surprised myself with how confidently I sprung into action. Despite my shyness, the separation of audience and performers on stage was enough to ease the pressure. At that point, I felt more aware of how I composed myself in front of the concert-goers given it was a smaller crowd.

The venue provided enough moody lighting to make the shots interesting, and their spotlights were bright enough to make exposure easy. I continued to struggle with the Sony a7iii, in this case with its automatic focus, which was not intuitive to me. I also noticed later in the editing stages that my framing was significantly off-balanced, perhaps because I wasn't properly looking into the viewfinder.

I had watched several tutorials on concert photography and the consensus was to prioritize shooting the venue as a whole as much as the artists themselves. I had to make a last minute decision against that because the crowd was very small. Since the point of wide crowd shots was to express enthusiasm and a large turnout for an event, I thought it would be insulting to Dead Engine to photograph their lack of the latter. I instead focused tightly on the band, hoping the quality of my shots and the aesthetic of the lighting would create the illusion of a grand concert.

As far as the quality of the performance, the band was very expressive and it was no strain to get dynamic poses. I nearly had to keep up with their showmanship, especially with Matt, their bassist. I was constantly regulating how many shots I was getting of each member as well as group shots. By the end, I had almost 400 photographs, which I narrowed down to around 100.

Editing was a long process as a result. I mostly increased the contrast, tightened the framing, and emphasized the colors already present on stage (green was my favorite). I was particularly happy with how the colored lights reflected off of the cymbals of the drum kit.

Dead Engine was more than happy with the results. As I said, they weren't very confrontational with criticism so whatever qualms they might have had, I'll never know, but I got the impression they loved my concert work more than the photoshoot.

I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed concert photography. As a financial avenue, it isn't very high-paying or stable, but neither is most freelance photo work starting out. And I enjoyed having a commission that combined my love of music and photography. I spoke with another band after the show, and they expressed interest in hiring me for an upcoming tour. That opportunity passed without much response on their part, but it got me excited thinking about the chances to network in something I was more engaged with and invested in than food or real-estate.

Dead Engine Photoshoot

Invoice 005 - Dead Engine November 2021 Photoshoot

I was introduced to Dead Engine's drummer at a party through his girlfriend, a close friend of mine from work. The band had recently ditched their last photographer and were looking for someone to shoot them for an upcoming concert. I immediately leapt at the offer, not so much out of confidence but a forced habit to accept any financial opportunity. I had no experience with concert photography and given what sliver of a comfort zone I occupied, I was immediately terrified, so much so that I nearly offered to shoot the event for free. Their drummer was kind enough to refuse and I wound up actually earning more than my fees would dictate.

The first stage of the commission was to photograph Dead Engine for promotional material. Their venue required some sort of group shot that they could post on their website, and the band had delayed sending anything. They nearly resorted to using their smartphone so I scrambled to select a location. I remembered having a previous interest in an abandoned Fry's Electronics superstore. This particular location was stylized as an Aztec temple and I thought the bizarre aesthetic would be an interesting backdrop for a band photo. In retrospect, other than the empty parking garage, I in no way took advantage of the scenery enough to distinguish it as an abandoned Fry's.

The photoshoot itself went smoothly despite my nervousness. I had the advantage of Dead Engine being relatively inexperienced in this sort of thing, and Sam joined me to ease my anxiety. I remember watching other portrait photographers discuss the importance of speaking to clients while shooting in order to make them more relaxed and aware of the process, and so I made an active effort, as corny as it was, to talk like a model photographer (lots of "oh yeahs!" and "that looks great"). It was very much a persona I was putting on to get the best results, and I felt detached from myself, like I was inhabiting a more confident and sociable foreign body. It was the only way I could deal with the stressful situation.

I had a set list of shot ideas that I planned out beforehand so we could jump into position and complete the photoshoot in less than an hour. I had learned better after fidgeting around tediously for three hours with Sam in my studio class. The band also gave one or two suggestions for shots, and although a little stiff, they were relatively easy to model. However, it was apparent right away which of my planned shots would not look good.

Dead Engine gravitated towards the shots inside the parking garage and one angle in particular. Despite insisting that they didn't have a specific aesthetic in mind, I got the sense that what they really wanted was a blunt, expressionless, and gritty metal band photo, which was why their imposing stances in the dim parking garage appealed to their tastes. And so I tried to play that up in editing with darker, bluish colors and lots of punchy contrast. Outdoor shots were much more difficult to implement into that style, which is why I suspect they showed less interest in those. Keep in mind, these band members are relatively quiet and unassuming so it was difficult to gauge any criticism they had with my results.