Eye Contact

I don't know why some models can do it and some can't, but great eye contact makes me go weak in the knees. I've been shooting for about three years now and only a handful of people have made me stare back at the screen. It amazes me every time. It's a rare gift and I am lucky to be able to capture it.

I think the ones that do it best, rest their eyes between shots. They look away or look down. They refocus every frame. As a photographer, it is important to capture that fresh look, the strong eyes—to know when the model has "the look" and snap the shot. It's important to keep the flow and be prepared. Although I must say, I am guilty of capturing just as many shots of the the model preparing for the shot as I am getting the shot. But that's a skill I'm working on.

I know that when I was the model (see below), I tried refocusing with each frame. And I kept thinking of Tyra saying "Smile with your eyes." I didn't really get it until I was trying to do it myself. You really can smile with the eyes. It's a matter of putting that spark or sparkle in your eyes—telling the viewer that you are more than just a picture, you are alive and you are living in that moment. Some say you capture the soul when you take a picture, I think when you get a picture with good eye contact, you have indeed gotten a glimpse of the soul, but it is a soul that can't be captured because it is off living in the next moment.

   

I've Taken Up Modeling

I think every photographer should try their hand at modeling, especially outside in public with everybody staring at  you. Robin, my friend and extremely talented hair and makeup artist, took photos of me today. We did some studio shots and then some shots in a park outside. Modeling is hard. Apparently I have tense lips and eyes because Robin's only instructions were "Relax your lips, lower your eyebrows, relax your eyes." 

While we were outside, I had to wave and smile at all kinds of people. One small boy, around 3 years old, thought I needed rescuing. I guess I did look a little like a damsel in distress and I was standing awfully close to the lake. I told him if he brought a white horse, I'd happily be rescued. He ran away, isn't that just like my prince?

I learned a lot about photography today. For one, I probably should communicate more while I'm taking pictures - I know I spend way to much time concentrating on lights and things. Models need confirmation and a little conversation, I know I appreciated it.

I'm grateful to Robin for giving me the chance to bring out my inner diva. I've packed her back up and I think she'll be happy in hiding for another 10 years or so.

30 Photos Day 4

My niece drew this for me about 6 years ago. It's me and the man she imagined that I was going to marry. I put it on my fridge and there it has stayed for years and years.

From what I can tell, the man I am going to marry has a big head, big eyes and wears a hat. It's hard to tell but he might have a bit of belly. And I'm going to have some crazy flip hairstyle when I marry him. 

I'm sure I'll recognize this man when I meet him. How many men look that good in a hat?

30 Photos Day 3

I'm rather proud of this image. I took only one shot. I was almost lying in the middle of the street on King Street to get this shot. It's a rather busy street and I get a little self conscious laying in the street taking a photo. So I snapped one and moved my car. It's actually in focus. I usually have to take 5 or 10 to be sure especially with handheld macro shots.

And I'm lucky my boss noticed that parking enforcement was out today or I would have gotten a ticket. Nothing irritates me more than giving away money for nothing.

30 Photos in 30 Days

Day 1

I'm trying something new. 30 days of photographs around a theme. I'm concerned that my pictures aren't telling a meaningful story. That they are just pretty pictures. I know that's a valid reason to take a picture, but I need something more. I'm going to see if this works for me. If so, perhaps I'll do another 30 days with a topic that is a little less vain than me! But I figured I should start with something I know.

Why I Don't Shoot Fashion

The short answer: I grew up poor.

Now the long answer. I did grow up with a lot less than others had. I didn't realize we weren't considered "middle class" until much, much later in life. I guess I had all the essentials - food, bad clothes, shelter, love. It wasn't until I was in college (on a scholarship) when I was reading in my economics class that cities count the number of children on the school lunch program to estimate the number of poor children in a community. You already know from the reading the beginning of this that I was on the school lunch program. Crap, I was poor. Still to this day, I don't believe it. Still holding on to the middle class dream. I mean, creditors weren't knocking at our door, we owned a car, had a dog, and we even lived in a large (albeit rundown) house. I had my own room, how is that poor? My mom did an excellent job of hiding it from us or I was just off living in another world.

I never appreciated clothes because I never had them. I shopped at thrift stores my entire life. I was content in old men's shirts and ratty old jeans. I was a tomboy at heart and the clothes matched my personality. Looking back, it's probably what gave me my personality. I walked around high school in shirts that were 6 times too big for me. I'm sure people were laughing at me, but I didn't care. I wore it all with confidence. I actually thought I was popular until my best friend left me for the popular crowd (As I write this I'm beginning to realize I was a bit deluded in my childhood, but I think it saved me from a lot of harsh realities that might have made me much less happy!)

I wasn't a big magazine reader, Rolling Stone and Seventeen basically, so I wasn't constantly looking at images of beautiful clothes on beautiful people. My life was shaped more by the people around me, which was mostly guys playing football out in the street and it wasn't touch football, it was tackle. I can't tell you how many scrapes and bruises I had growing up.

So when I take pictures today, I am a little proud that I can do it for $4.00 worth of peppers at the grocery store. I want people to look at my pictures and see the beauty in the everyday things, not in the expensive props and clothing. I want them to think that they could take that picture if they wanted to; that not having access to expensive things shouldn't hold anyone back.

Don't get me wrong, I still dream of flowing silk gowns and mansions in the background, but I probably don't have the right lighting or the proper grasp of what that all means to make that kind of picture come alive for the viewer. However, give me $20 in used knives and wire and I'll whip something up that will at least make people give me credit for being creative.

Eastern State Penitentiary

Yesterday I travelled up to Philadelphia to participate in a group shoot at the Eastern State Penitentiary. While my objective was to take pictures, I was really hoping to meet some spirits. It didn't work out that way. No spirits. I was on the tale end of a pretty nasty cold which has wiped out my appetite and ability to sleep while filling me with never ending mucus. I make quite a photographer in those conditions. I'm lucky I came away with any good shots, but the models were kind and patient and we had fun. Arwen, in the shot above, probably lives 5 minutes from me. I didn't need to travel 2.5 hours to shoot with her, but I do love the shot so it was worth it.

Next time I go to Eastern State, I'm going to be healthy. Then I think the spirits will introduce themselves. See, I'm thinking they didn't want to catch my nasty cold.