Remember that one time a really long time ago, where you had a really cool camera that cost you a fortune and you thought it was bad ass to go to random places & shoot everyone and their brother.
You had that best friend who loved to go with you on 4+ hour road trips stopping at the most random locations, including but not limited to fabtastic trailer parks.
bff by strangers carWhere you thought your name was TYRA BANKS and you were hosting ANTM & you got to role play as nigel barker.
I remember it like yesterday. Directing your bff in the middle of town, stopping at a vintage car that didn’t belong to you parked on the side of the road…
Telling her to OWN that CAR until the actual owner of the car came out of the house he was visiting and was NOT i repeat NOT pleased at the current situation of a young girl striking it up next to his baby.
When you would be walking down a random road and the pearly white gates of heaven flooded open onto a door… not just any door. The door into the LAUNDRO-MAT. Not just any LAUNDRO-MAT, a LAUNDRO-MAT that hadn’t been remodeled since your parents were 3.
Two words – GOLD MINE. Those kind of places take years to find, as you quickly start snappin’ away and giddy as a 3 year old on Christmas.
Days when you’d be ridin’ passenger with your bff, goin 60mph, listening to some Britney Spears. Looking through all 243 of your pictures (because that used to be a lot) taking a glance up, only to notice this bowling alley that looked like a 1970’s tornado had mulled through it yesterday and screaming STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.
The car screeches as your friend thinks you are dying,and you turn and say, “didn’t you see that BOWLING ALLEY” turn around right now!!!!!!!
Walking in and needing an immediate shower from the thick haze of smoke. You look at her with awe and amazement at this jewel of a venue, you just stumbled upon. They look at you like you are half crazy, “this place is gross” she says. As you think, DO YOU NOT SEE THIS VINTAGE AWESOMENESS.
bff smoke filled bowling alley
Where your blood was pumping, bc you found another friend who just coaxed her boyfriend into letting you do a faux engagement session in a car wash.
The passion. The love. What made me love what I do and do what I love.
Sometimes I forget how exciting is to be on such a photo high that I can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t breathe until I upload the images & start posting them on every social network site I can think of.
It’s sad really. My hobby, became my job and the passion was lost in that journey. Like with anything, our relationships, friendships, you have to nurture that passion. I know that sounds like a load of crap, because I think it sounds like a load of crap, but I’m actually starting to believe it.
People used to ask me how shooting was going and my eyes would light up & I would talk and talk and talk (I know hard to imagine) about all my new shoots, and I’m going here & this session, ladidah. Now when they ask, I usually have a response like, “oh it’s busy.”
Then i usually get angry because they say, “good thing you have the weeks off to do whatever you want.” That turns me into angry photogzilla, and I go in attack mode. RIGHTTTT, you try having 12 associates, shooting 100+ weddings a year and running a what… what was that called again? a business… see if you have any weekdays free. AH. sh**. slipped. whoopsi-doodle.
BAHHH. No bueno. I struggle bc I don’t want to be bitter old photog (and i’m not even old)…
Something had to be done.
Imagine, driving, windows down, wind blowing through your hair, bittersweet symphony blaring from the car speakers, the smell of summer going through the car and blurs of green as you drive on a neverending country road. That feeling.
I don’t know what to call it but the bittersweet, life is good feeling. Next time you get in a rut, drive. Put on some tunes and after you clear your head stop at whatever stands out to you and shoot that shiz like you’ve never shot before. Fall back in love.
That’s exactly what Pedro & I did last week. Sometime’s it just takes one image, to make you remember that feeling, that feeling of, I was born to do this.
