For The Love Of Choppers … & Vettes

When I was just a little kid, I fell in love with motorcycles. I get that from my Dad. He is a Harley man true-to-the-bone. He has always loved these wonderful machines & always had motorcycle magazines lying around the house. He would show me pictures of different cycles & tell me all about this chrome & that engine & I was always wide-eyed in amazement. Some of them were just so beautiful with their hand-painted tanks & shiny handlebars. And I especially loved the Choppers.

How could you not love a Chopper? They have this wild & free mystique that always perks up visions of “Easy Rider”, which I of course saw when I was just that little girl in ponytails.

If you have never felt the pulse between your legs or heard that low throaty growl of the engine then you are missing such a breathtaking experience. I have not ridden in years but my Dad still has his Harley; although now it’s a cool looking maroon trike with all the sweet features.

Yet I see very few Choppers on the road anymore. Its all Harleys & crotch rockets & rice burners. You have to go to a bike rally or bike show to see them, all gussied up as the belle of the ball, but not on the road. But they are still my favorite, even though my Dad says they don’t make for a smooth ride.

It wasn’t long after discovering cycles that I took a shine to cars. My Dad used to go to the drag races (without me) but would bring back some pictures of souped up engines & brightly colored bodies. And then of course he had all those hot rod magazines. He even had a mustang when I was a tot but I somehow thought it needed a stripe & took a rock & made that stripe myself … all around the car. Oops …..

I was probably all of about 10 years old when I fell in love with Corvettes. Talk about a cool car, they were IT. I loved the Stingrays & Sharks. Me, being the little photographer since I was 4, had my little camera with me at all times & would snap shots of Vettes anywhere that I saw them: in parking lots, in front of houses, wherever. Drove my Grandmother crazy, always having to stop for me to take pictures of a car. It didn’t matter to me what color they were or what condition they were in. They were still Vettes.


This is one of the photos I took of a Vette I spotted one afternoon in 1978 (as the photo is stamped on the back). It still gives me the giggles, this Vette just sitting there in all its coolness.

I found a few more photos of different Vettes I had taken but alas many have gone the way of the “who knows where they are” now. Wish I still had them. It’d be fun to see them again.

So do I still like Vettes? Yes & no. I like the old ones, like the Stingrays & Sharks. They still seem unbearably cool, like that Bandit gas-guzzler Trans Am, but I tend to really favor even older cars now: a 1930’s Packard, 57 Chevys, a 60’s Bentley. I still try to catch local car shows & snap hundreds of pictures of fins & steering columns & pink dice hanging from rear view mirrors.

Sitting here thinking about these Vettes seems to evoke an aura of nostalgia; of a time that was once very glorious & special. My own memories drifting back to lazy 70’s days spent listening to Fleetwood Mac & KISS, wearing handmade clothes, eating food that wasn’t full of preservatives & sitting with my Dad picking out Choppers in a magazine.

See Ya Again Soon,
BLUR

Music Playing = “Hotel California”

Tripping The Writing Fantastic

I have spent the past week entangling myself in words that I have been happily grabbing out of an atmosphere of nouns & verbs & succulent pronouns. Inspiration has hit me like a ton of psychedelic bricks & I have been erotically swimming in words like fever & passion & rock n roll.

I have started the proverbial article that I have been wanting to write these past several weeks. I have picked a subject that is near & dear to my rock chick heart & have been committing words to paper (yep, the old fashioned way) & seeing the light of creativity crack a smile on my face.

It feels good. It feels natural. It feels like I can still do this. That those lost words from my journalist past were only hidden in a forest under a small petrifying tree limb & like the crocus bounding to the spark of spring, the words are swarming around me with renewed lusciousness.

With fingers placed over my sweet southern lips, I am not telling you who I am writing about. At least, not yet. No need to go jumping the gun. I am enjoying this. I am thriving in a pool of wonderful words that are giving life to this project I am working on.

I am at the point where the article is craving some direct quotes from its subject. Those I do not have yet but may try to get within the coming month. I wanted to build the body first. Get the title & groove of how I want this to be.

I think about writing about as much as I think about photography now. I feel the connection & the intertwining of the two getting tighter & tighter within me. I sit & daydream at work of what to write next & the anticipation of this gets me through a long day. Once I can sit at my desk, I linger over sentences & roll them around on my tongue & try to sense how to say what I want to say.

Of course, some days I have only written one sentence; while the other day I wrote several paragraphs. Time gets in the way. I have had a busy week with normal life & photography. To sit & create is something to be savored & appreciated since I have had such little time to play with it.

So here I am ~again~ typing out a spiel about writing. Listening to music in the background & humming like a bee to an old Muddy Waters tune that is stuck in my head yet not even playing on the system. My doggie is sleeping by my feet & in just a few hours I can pick up my old fashioned pen & jot down more words in that old fashioned notebook. And I am one step closer.

BLUR

Music Playing = John Coltrane

Blurry Rock & Roll, Part One

Blur is one of my archest of enemies. It haunts many of my photographs & makes me grit my teeth in utmost anger at its nasty little habit of turning up in all the wrong pictures.

It haunts my D90 like Sting’s proverbial ghost in the machine. I take hundreds of concert photos & it never fails that about 70% of them have some sort of wispy fingertip smudges all over them. Dang-blasted irritating blur!!!!

It’s my fault, I know this. Somehow someway I have messed up a setting somewhere, causing the blur to bleed over everything in its path. It drives me F***ING NUTS!!!!


I have an affinity, as I have been told more times than I can count, for capturing that “something”. I have “an eye”, they say. I take wonderful portraits of people, capturing their personality & life. That is what I keep hearing. But for the love of Elvis, sometimes I wonder if something isn’t blurring THEIR doggone eyeballs. Jeez, what is it that they see that I cannot???

Another debate for another blog. My photographic insecurities are not what I am babbling on & on about today. Nope, its blurry rock & roll. It’s my ability to capture a great guitar face yet, time & time again, upon opening the photo on my pc, there is finger blur or hair blur or just plain old blur EVERYWHERE.

It’s pitiful that I do this. I upgraded to a D90 from a D40; & got some pretty cool glass with a f1.8 that lets in all that wonderful light when the stage is sometimes pitch-black (ask me about The Radiators one day; they didn’t seem to want ANY lights on them at all – a photographer’s nightmare). At this time in my life I can’t afford the REALLY good camera & lens. I’m fresh out of a bad marriage & thankfully I am financially getting things back together. But one day I will be able to.

So I have to do what I can do at this moment in time with what I have. I continue to take hundreds of photos, because its just what I do, in hopes to capture a few good ones that the band or the club will like & post on their websites. I practice at mostly the mechanics because I seem to get THE SHOT, just not exactly in focus. I’ve had musicians play to my camera & I’ve been practically underneath them. One photo here, half a photo there is the outcome.

Frustrating beyond all definition of the word.

But there is hope & there is light at the end of this tunnel. I have some good photographs which have received some big-time compliments. I continue to go out there every couple of weeks & shoot bands in low-light staging, earning my dues. I’m making contacts with managers & PR people, other photographers & magazine editors. I’m getting advice & instruction from professionals & everyday shooters.

And you know what? Sometimes a little blur enhances the essence of a photograph. Score one for BLUR.


Top Photograph = Josh Gillie of Jane Doe's Dead
Bottom Photograph = Devon Allman of Honeytribe

BLUR

Music Playing = Picture Me Broken

Wedding Part 2

This is just a collage of a few more photographs that I took at the wedding the other night. The photos of the flower girl have been getting great reviews, I am humbled to say. Thank You.



BLUR

Music Playing = The Beatles

Anticipating Words

Okie dokie, folks, its time to get ready to start writing this article stuff. Just think, there are all kinds of magazines & online websites that need some good writing like I know I can do. I look forward to finding a little corner of the music world in which to pour out all these whimsical words that are floating all around me like rings of Saturn. Just got to grab them & paste them in all the right places.

I’ve been thinking who I could write about first. A favorite band? Or someone new? Someone just waiting to be discovered by the BIG BAD RECORD COMPANIES. I sure do know quite a few out there, busting their butts to be heard by someone who can spread their music from coast to coast to coasts far away. I’ve shot them at clubs or found them on MySpace or was turned in their direction by someone else. Doggone it, I love discovering new music. It’s just plain fabulous. Don’t you think?!!

Alright, I’m sitting here at this very moment, twiddling my thumbs. Who do I pick? So I mess around & hum & sing & listen to snippets of songs then finally go make some popcorn. I can’t decide yet. And I really-really want to. I have anticipation up the wazoo about writing again. All this energy flowing through my veins ready to pulse out. This is probably like having ADHD except it’s compartmentalized on music.

I eat some more popcorn & wait for the A-HA moment to come. Once I pick my topic I can start my research. Fun research on someone I like & admire & would love (or already have) photographed. I’m narrowing it down, Guys. I can feel it.

I check the clubs where I usually shoot to see who is playing this weekend. Hmmm …. I check my humble portfolio. Oh yea, I could do them. No-no-no, I want to do them first. But I want to do a whole segment on this band so not them yet. My dog needs to go potty so I get up to let him go frolic out in the backyard & I walk around & catch words & get giggly with excitement.

By the time I sit back down at the pc, I have an overabundance of ideas, but its time to cook supper. Jeez, supper can wait. I want to get this one figured out before I lose the buzz. The phone rings. Sorry dude, can’t talk to you about my obsession with Slash right now, I’m writing. What? You heard about a tour date? Oh my goodness gracious me. Now my mind is off on a tangent of long black curls & flaming hot guitar strings. Remind me the next time I see him to kick his ass. Total loss of concentration now. Might as well go cook some quesadillas while I’m trying to get back the vibe.

Phone rings again. My baby calling to tell me she ran this morning. She’s training for a half-marathon, in case you were wondering. She’s just an itty-bitty thing but she can now run 13.5 miles without huffing & puffing.

Stop-stop-stop!!!! I have to concentrate on getting this article started, my Dear. Call me back later.

Later turns into typing a few suggestions to look at the band names. As if that would help me any. A name is a name. I swirl the names around my tongue as if the article I am to write has sound. Man oh man. Maybe I should just put some names in a hat & whatever I pull out is who I shall write about. That’s how a reporter really works. They are GIVEN assignments to write. Ok, that sounds cool I can do that. Whoever I pull out of that hat is who I am going to write about.

Done deal. Oh man, now look at the time. I have to get up early & hit the gym & then go to my normal job. You know what this means, don’t you? More hours I have to wait until I can write this article.

Sure glad that these floodgates have opened. Otherwise what in the world would I do with all these words!!!

Maybe tomorrow the writing will begin. Did I tell you how excited I am about doing this again?

BLUR

Music Playing = Guns N Roses

Brides & Grooms & Photography - OH MY !!!

Weddings are fun, exciting & beautiful events. If you’re sitting in the audience taking in everything all 5 senses have to offer, then you feel privileged to be here. But if you’re a wedding photographer, especially a new one in the game, it can only mean one thing = STRESS !!!!!!

You did hear me SCREAM that last word at the top of my sweet southern lungs, didn’t you? And, gosh-darn-it, I meant every syllable of it.

I love weddings, I really do. But to be the main photographer on someone’s MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF THEIR LIFE, you have to capture EVERY LITTLE MOMENT. Every single one of them. To fail at this is to fail at the job you have been hired to do. Someone trusted you to catch the special smiles & moments while they were creating those special smiles & moments. You were hired to capture what they cannot see. Over there Grandpa is whispering in Grandma’s ear while the bride & groom dance their first dance, wrapped up totally in each other. And at that very same moment, across the room, the niece is hocking a loogie in her brother’s kool-aid glass while he is in turn sticking his tongue out at the cute little girl making squishy faces at him. And let’s not forget the best man standing in the corner nervously adjusting his tie before he does his BIG toast.

Wedding photography is not just about the bride & groom. It is about capturing the special little things that go on all around them as well. Special moments like what I mentioned above. So if you really-really think about this, it will make your hair turn grey before it’s supposed to turn grey.

I went the other night with a photographer friend to a wedding that she was the “official” photographer for. I had permission from the bride to tag along & practice all I wanted. So I felt none of the pressure of being THE wedding photographer. I sat around & observed & found special moments that I recorded on my beloved Nikon’s memory card, without having to play hydra to EVERYTHING around me. I was relaxed & jovial & made little suggestions to my friend every now & then of something going on behind her that would make a good photo memory. It was fun. No pressure.

I have been THE wedding photographer on several occasions since I started back with my photography. And even though they were very satisfied & happy with the end results, I felt disappointed that the pictures weren’t better.

So seriously, is this something I REALLY want to do?

I don’t know for sure yet. Wedding photography is a photographer’s bread & butter. It’s where the money is & therefore will allow you to quit a humdrum job & open your dream studio wherever your heart desires. Once you have a few weddings under your belt then word of mouth will propel you into this longed-for career as a SERIOUS photographer.

But here is my thing: stress, & I repeat stress, is a big part of this job until it becomes second nature, which may take awhile. I am very kind-natured (that’s what they tell me. Ugh, why can’t I be a bitch without feeling guilty when I’m being a bitch) so I want to photograph everything perfect & wonderful & beautiful for them. I want them to be happy. There is no – STOP THE KISS!!!! I need to redo the shot. No no no no no. You need to get it right the one & only time you have to get it right.

You have to be able to instantly readjust settings for any lighting situation, have eyes in the back of your head, feet skills so you don’t go tripping over the aisle runner & most importantly you have to have an instinct for wedding photography.

I love portraits. I love being one-on-one with people, finding & capturing their personality. I love shooting concerts & inhaling that passion that falls from a guitar string & then actually seeing that on film. That is what I love to do. Honestly.

So am I ready to be a wedding photographer? Do I even WANT to be a wedding photographer?

BLUR


This is one of the photographs that I took at the wedding. Its ok. Not one of those take-your-breath-away photos that you see in magazines. Not by far. Just a father & daughter preparing for one of those BIG MOMENTS in life.

Music Playing = Kenny Wayne Shepherd

Fresh Air

The other night I went out of my element & attended a performance by a violinist. Yes, you read that right. A violinist. But this was not your ordinary classical music oboe swelling event. This was David Garrett. A twenty-something rock & roll string virtuoso on a theatre stage performing in blue jeans, with a ponytail & a rockin’ back up band. He just happened to be rocking a Stradivarius.

He was quite remarkable & his rendering of Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” blew me away. I kid you not, this guy was out of this world. He did Queen’s “Who Wants To Live Forever”, AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck”, Jimi Hendrix’s “Little Wing”, a breathtaking “Kashmir” & “Flight Of The Bumblebee” interspersed with snippets of “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. Ahhhh, a man after my own heart.

I was seated amongst a cornucopia of people: young, old, rich, ordinary, nerdy, fashionable & even a few young girls who were swooning over David like they were swooning over someone from “Twilight”. And they all enjoyed the music.

I do have to say that its fun to step outside of your comfortable ipod playlist to discover new music. If we don’t take that chance every once in awhile how boring it would be. I mean, you’re looking at a rock & roll chick here, but boy do I love ole Wille Nelson. I love all music that carries within its soul, the blues. Good ole delta blues with the guitar sound that slips inside your soul & squirms around until you are almost euphoric. It’s a feeling, peeps. It’s a passion.

I’m glad I went to see this young German kid with the rock & roll heart & Paganini soul. He brings life to a genre that needs some punctuation to attract more young hearts as well as intrigue the older ones who look at him with a sideways glance of suspicion yet with fingers ready to pinch his cheek.


A breath of fresh air is ALWAYS a good thing. Think about it next time you’ve heard that same old song for the ten-thousandth time. Think about it when someone asks you to do something you’ve never tried before. And especially think about it when you have dreams you want to pursue but have squidgens of doubt that are holding you back from giving it your all.

See Ya Again Soon,
BLUR

Music Playing = David Garrett