I just want to photograph people I like, for people I like. And I like a lot of people.
About 10 years ago, I had one of those lightbulb moments with regard to my photography. I realized that people who have been through something or who are going through something - whether triumphant, traumatic, or simply a reality of everyday life - want to share their experiences. Most often, they appreciate when someone takes an interest in their life. But the interest has to be genuine. It has to be from the heart. And they need to feel like their story is being held in safe, trustworthy hands.
Which is why I don't like the phrase ‘taking photos’. I'm not taking anything. Together, we're making something.
On a somewhat related note, anyone reading this should know that I write like I talk.
Case in point, an old couple is sitting in a restaurant. The waiter comes over and says "Excuse me, is anything alright?"
I love dogs but my son is allergic so we live vicariously through other people’s dogs. All of the joy, none of the poop.
When it comes to photographing people who’ve experienced trauma, it takes one to know one.
Honesty.
Empathy.
Compassion.
Dignity.
I love people who only do one thing and they’re insanely passionate about that one thing. And people who do a job that no one else wants.
Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face. (Mike Tyson)
I’ll never photograph someone at the worst moment in their life just to show a dramatic moment. It’s cheap and exploitative. And that person is someone’s kid.
Photographing journeys, triumphs and positivity in the face of adversity, deep connections to a place or other people… sign me up.
One of my jobs before, during, and after a shoot is to make life easier for my clients. And I love my job.
Put a blindfold on me, drop me anywhere in Greenwich Village, spin me around three times and I can tell you some obscure fact about where I land. Like how the expression “86 it” - meaning, to run out of something - comes from the Prohibition-era when people would run from a raid at the speakeasy located, wait for it, at 86 Bedford Street.
Oh, and a skeleton walks into a bar... orders a beer and a mop.
"Can you please try to make yourselves a little more in focus?"