The man pictured (sort of) here saw me photographing some aesthetically pleasing urban detritus Friday — a trashed skateboard deck leaning against a wall that probably needs a new coat of paint. He stopped and asked, “Are you a photographer?” There are times when I’m modest or timid about answering “yes” to that question. For whatever reason, at that moment in that place — last Friday across from the offices of The Stranger on Seattle’s Capitol Hill — I just skipped the hand-wringing and told him that, yes, I am a photographer. He said he needed a photo for the cover of his upcoming CD. His studio was on the same block, the same side of the street even. He invited me to stop in and hear his music. Even though I had somewhere to be, I decided to see where this would lead. A minute later, he’d guided me down some steps, through some rough but reasonably clean hallways, to his space. He turned on his Mac and played me some of his music. I started shooting. The lighting in the studio was terrible. And that was good. Terrible lighting is one of the things that gives me an excuse to try completely unpromising stuff, to mess around with the camera and see what I get. Soon, I was doing long exposures punctuated by a flash at the very end of the shot. I’ve done this before and been happy with the results I get when I move the camera around. In this case, as usual, I got some truly crap photos. But I also got one I liked a lot. The long exposure, the flash, and the musician’s movement combined to leave a strip of his face entirely missing and see-through in the photo. He’d bugged out his eyes, mugging for the camera. Somehow it seemed right. We moved out to the hallway — me adjusting my shutter speed, him toting the keyboard that he really wanted to have in the shot. He continued to be cool with experimenting. So we walked through the hallways, past his neighbors who do whatever they do behind the doors of their own studios. He walked forward. I walked backwards, doing my long exposures and trying not to trip. This yielded more photos that I liked. We shot a few more. In what was probably no more than 15 minutes, we were done. I gave him the only tangible corroboration of my claim to being a photographer — a card left over from my show in 2007. The card includes my e-mail address. The plan is for him to e-mail me. I’ll e-mail him back the photos. I’d love for this to work out: for him to end up using the photos, for his CD to do well, for lots of people to dance to his music, for lots of people to see my photography. This total accident of an experience seems so right because my dream scenario for my photography involves shooting book covers and CD art. I love the idea of art that people get to see and enjoy without shelling out a bunch of money for a framed print. We’ll see where this leads. Even if it’s nowhere, this was fun and I’ll try to set myself up to do more of it. Click for high-res photo

The man pictured (sort of) here saw me photographing some aesthetically pleasing urban detritus Friday — a trashed skateboard deck leaning against a wall that probably needs a new coat of paint. He stopped and asked, “Are you a photographer?”

There are times when I’m modest or timid about answering “yes” to that question. For whatever reason, at that moment in that place — last Friday across from the offices of The Stranger on Seattle’s Capitol Hill — I just skipped the hand-wringing and told him that, yes, I am a photographer.

He said he needed a photo for the cover of his upcoming CD. His studio was on the same block, the same side of the street even. He invited me to stop in and hear his music. Even though I had somewhere to be, I decided to see where this would lead. A minute later, he’d guided me down some steps, through some rough but reasonably clean hallways, to his space. He turned on his Mac and played me some of his music.

I started shooting.

The lighting in the studio was terrible. And that was good. Terrible lighting is one of the things that gives me an excuse to try completely unpromising stuff, to mess around with the camera and see what I get. Soon, I was doing long exposures punctuated by a flash at the very end of the shot. I’ve done this before and been happy with the results I get when I move the camera around.

In this case, as usual, I got some truly crap photos. But I also got one I liked a lot. The long exposure, the flash, and the musician’s movement combined to leave a strip of his face entirely missing and see-through in the photo. He’d bugged out his eyes, mugging for the camera. Somehow it seemed right.

We moved out to the hallway — me adjusting my shutter speed, him toting the keyboard that he really wanted to have in the shot. He continued to be cool with experimenting. So we walked through the hallways, past his neighbors who do whatever they do behind the doors of their own studios. He walked forward. I walked backwards, doing my long exposures and trying not to trip. This yielded more photos that I liked.

We shot a few more. In what was probably no more than 15 minutes, we were done.

I gave him the only tangible corroboration of my claim to being a photographer — a card left over from my show in 2007. The card includes my e-mail address. The plan is for him to e-mail me. I’ll e-mail him back the photos.

I’d love for this to work out: for him to end up using the photos, for his CD to do well, for lots of people to dance to his music, for lots of people to see my photography. This total accident of an experience seems so right because my dream scenario for my photography involves shooting book covers and CD art. I love the idea of art that people get to see and enjoy without shelling out a bunch of money for a framed print.

We’ll see where this leads. Even if it’s nowhere, this was fun and I’ll try to set myself up to do more of it.

Notes