Lessons in What Not to Do: Studio Bingo

 

 

 

Senior pictures; it’s that time of year.  Sunday I was approached by this brunette beauty asking to take her senior pictures.  Apparently she like what I had done for Bill & Mary (LWND:  Getting Mary-ed) and was eager to have me behind the lens for this educational, lifelong milestone.

 

“Kelly has the utmost confidence in you.”  Her mom told me over the phone after I admitted my photography shortcomings and suggested that they take a last minute jaunt over to one of those “quickie” photo studios a strobe above the street side, pull-the-curtain and insert your dollar kind.  You see, the yearbook photo requires an indoor, solid background headshot.  They even specify how large the head should be (no more than an inch and a half from chin to the top of the hair) and a quarter of an inch short of the top of the picture.  Basically they want a studio shot, something I don’t have nor do I want to financially delve into at the moment.  Like most things, gear can become a greenback black hole where the return will never out pace or keep up with its ferocious appetite.  Lesson learned:  Fess up to your weakness and work the problem to your strengths.  It hit a little hard to know that this sweet girl had more faith in me than I did in myself; I wasn’t going to let her down.

 

Confidence, huh?  Well, it was time to do what I do best – fake it and improvise.  I stopped by Joann Fabrics before the shoot and picked a couple of Panne velvet panels 1 yard by 58”.  Enough for head and shoulders, but that’s about it.  Stealing the scouting flag pole idea, I cut 1/4” aluminum conduit into three lengths, slapped on two PVC elbows and set the whole thing on rebar spikes.  Indoor wasn’t going to happen, at least if I can help it.  Lesson learned:  Home Depot, not the spendy Idaho Camera, can save the day.

 

Kelly and I had a five o’clock appointment Tuesday at her parents countryside home.  Beautiful landscaping and plenty of grassy, open shade.  The sun was lower in the sky and sent a beam of golden light between an evergreen and chimney, casting a long column of shadows across the yard.  Using my awesome skills in astronomical mathematics and orienteering, I hammered in the rebar base (making sure not to hit any underground pipes) and calculated the best angle for the backdrop, the reflector and the celestial orb of a side and top light. 

 

This is where Bingo comes into play.  I have my game card in front of me, my lipstick pink ink dotter in one clenched fist and a lucky, thumb-stroked rabbits foot in the other just waiting on bated breath for those winning numbers to line up.  ISO, aperture, shutter speed, white balance, exposure and reflected, indirect, direct and flash all to be accounted for and let’s not for get the dreaded umbra and penumbra. Full manual, external flash, and opting against my usual lens of choice for the 55-200m VR zoom, I started marking off each square.

 

Gold was up first on the impromptu stand and Kelly and I rocked it - quite literally.  If you feel good about yourself – it’s a good hair day, your eyeliner isn’t smudged, and blemishes are a thing of the past, chances are you feel better in front of the camera.  Smiles come easier, giggles grow and before you know it you have a stack of relatively painless pictures of you being you and not the I’ve-sat-here-for-hours-and-my-face-is-going-to-fall-off-if-I-have-to-smile-one-more-time while the only thing keeping said smile up is the pleasant daydream of strangling the photographer you.  Add my not-so-secret, secret weapon and who knows what will happen. 

 

Music.  As in get your groove on music.  I asked Kelly to bring her iPod dock and queue up her favorite playlist.  Michael Buble kicked us off with a Sinatra standard oozing with class, golden oldies (of which I was quite impressed with her extensive tastes a generation before myself) and a couple of current pop-rock and rap ditties.  The Diva herself, Aretha’s Chain of Fools.  Pat Benetar’s Heartbreaker capped off the last shoot (black drop) with a timely, rocker hop off the white plastic lawn chair I happened to be standing on. The rabbit’s foot must have counter-acted Murphy’s Law because I didn’t land most embarrassingly on my backside or worse yet, break my camera. It all seems rather unorthodox, but this is me were talking about.  If I had any proper schooling, I’d know better and wouldn’t allow such childish frivolity to stand in the way of serious artistic expression.  Lesson learned:  Have fun, be silly when needed, get the job done and let the numbers fall where they may – there’s more than one way to win at bingo.

 

Minimal – and I mean minimal – editing went into these due to time constraints.  I delivered proofs Wednesday afternoon and set up our appointment to go and do the real senior pictures this Saturday.  Another adventure I look forward to.  Michael is invited. So is Pat, Stevie, Neil, Elvis, Aretha, Fergie, UB40, Avril, Miley, Taylor, Josh, the Brothers of course and ….   Can I yell bingo?

 

Meet Kelly, the cutest southern belle this side of the Mississippi.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the yearbook photo is….

 

Lessons in What Not to Do: Mrs. Idaho Headshots

 

 

Beauty pageants?  Last week I had the opportunity to take headshots for Mrs. Canyon County to compete in the Mrs. Idaho pageant.  She needed headshots to submit for the contestant pamphlets, pageant brochures and other media.  I’ve never done specific headshots before and had a lot to learn.  What is a headshot?  Is it just your head?  Head and neck?  Head, neck and shoulders?  Straight on, side or from behind?  Black and white?  Touched or unedited?  And that’s just the tip of the ice burg.

 

I met up with Molly around eleven in the morning and snapped off a few inside.  Yeah… not good.  I was seriously doubting whether or not I could pull this one off.  Studio lighting indoors is a must – at least that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

 

Outside and in my comfort zone, we found some open shade to work with.  Molly had a lovely celery green sweater on and perfect retro-glam hair that worked well with the evergreen tree I used as a background.  My reflector became her new best friend, it was a love-hate relationship adding just a touch of light underneath her chin and cheekbones to chase away those unflattering shadows.  Lesson learned:  Don’t blind your subject in pursuit of shadows.

 

Since theses photos are specific in nature, I let Molly glimpse the camera LCD to make sure that we were headed in the right direction.  Some angles and lines that we thought would work well didn’t and some of the “let’s just give this a  try” (as I contort myself into an odd example) poses gained the best reviews.  Lesson learned; it’s okay to be a poser – sometimes.  Find what flatters and don’t be afraid to twist and tweak it until you get what you want.

 

With any luck, she’ll be the next Mrs. Idaho! 

 

(The last two shots are the ones she chose to send to the director.) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lessons in What Not to Do: Baby, Baby

  

My first maternity and newborn sessions and a gazillion lessons in what not to do. 

 

You may recognizes this glowing gal from a post back in June; what can I say, it’s been a very busy summer.

 

Jenna was great to work with.  Easy going and up for just about anything even at thirty-eight weeks. We hit the usual haunts along the greenbelt, at which she wouldn’t let me help her up off the ground, and then headed for her home.  She has the cutest, pee-wee league sized basketball of a tummy that made these “maternity” shots not so odd. 

 

When I first heard of the concept I honestly wasn’t really sure about it, but then I got to thinking, remembering my first and shuffling through what very little prego-pictures I had and I began to realize that a nice, I-don’t-look-like-the-broad-side-of-a-barn in full-bloom motherhood  would have been special.  Sure, I’m grateful for the snapshot of me in David’s sweats, tent-like tee, bad hair and some type of food – who knows what – being unceremoniously and quickly shoved into my mouth, but I’d like to think that I was beautiful at some point along the way with actual proof and not just the consolatory, obligatory, please-don’t-bite-my-head-off line of “you look radiant, Dear” or “there’s nothing more beautiful than an expecting mother.”   Hmmm… reading back through this grammatically challenged paragraph it appears that I may have some issues here.   What are your thoughts?  Did you – do you – have great maternity pictures?  Would you want to have them?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And baby makes three!

 

 

Ten days.  That’s how new Christian was when he had his very first photo session.  I had came over in the early evening, just after his usual feeding and before the subsequent naptime.  Babies are best asleep; too bad he wasn’t up for it.  Patience, that’s what I learned.  Lots of patience with new mommies and new babies.   Christian was colicky and as we later found out suffering for acid reflux so needless to say he wasn’t his happiest.  Mom and Dad tried hard to get him settled, but I decided that we could try again later.  Lesson learned:  Know when enough is enough. 

 

Eleven days.  First thing in the morning after second – or was it third – breakfast.  Well fed and content with a light pat on the back, Christian was a superstar.  Both Mom and I were happy to have the little man resting peacefully so she could take a break and I could snap away.  There were a lot of “oohs” and “awes” as we gently tucked in little arms and legs for each set up.  Christian liked to have his man business on display; his tiny knees bent and crossed at the ankles reminding him of the comforts of mom.  Lesson learned:  Don’t say “little man business” while Dad is around.  He might take offense to certain parts being labeled little, tiny, cute etc.  Instead it’s better to overcompensate with big words like huge, enormous, and gargantuan.  The last one REALLY sounds manly and would make any new papa proud.

 

Babies poop.  Babies pee.  It’s a fact of life. The couch, the bed, Mom in her only pair of jeans that fit post-pregnancy.  Lesson learned; be prepared to have things tinkled on or worse, machine washable is a plus and baby wipes wipe more than little bums.

 

Though I’m somewhat happy with the way they turned out, I’ve realized the need for a soft box and a detachable flash would help tremendously.  Shadows would disappear and be replaced with even, wrap-around light to create a depth and details.  It’s on my B&H Photo wish list.  Lesson learned:  Do the best with what you’ve got and that necessity (and a poor-gals budget) is the mother of invention.

 

I also had the opportunity to make custom baby announcements – six different styles – for Mom and Dad to choose from.  It was fun to let the “scrapper” out of the closet and use different digital papers, embellishments and the like I’ve been collecting. 

 

Bottom line, love the mommies, love the babies and love what you (try) to do.

 

Props. to Mrs. DLee P for crocheting the “pod”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lessons in What Not to Do: Oh Sandra Kay!

 

 

Dave and I were bad.  Really bad.  We’ve been planning to kidnap our nieces for the past few years and never quite got up the courage to actually go through with it.  Actually, our crazy-busy teenage nieces never had the time to indulge their old, fuddy-duddy aunt and uncle.  But this year we made the getaway with Miss Sandra strapped in the back of the Yukon.  No, we didn’t bind and gag her though I seriously thought about such restraint for the other three – who shall remain nameless– that we had to take home.  I’m sure she was doubting her decision halfway into the nine and a half hour trek, but she took it like a pro and didn’t bolt at the numerous potty stops along the way.

 

So what do you do with a teenage girl in the house?  Shopping.  Lots of shopping.  All day long marathon shopping.  Good ol’dollar days at Savers thrift store and Sandra and I were hunting the deals for a new wardrobe.  Name brand clothes, little bitty price tag.  We picked up the basics, those pieces every girl should have in her arsenal.  A nice flirty yet modest black skirt, fitted shirts and jackets, jeans that hugged all the right places – even if you are a beanpole – and shoes to finish off the look.  Let me tell you, she was a trooper.  It couldn’t have been easy to have a shop-happy aunt like me keep tossing this and that into the dressing room at a rapid-fire pace and expect to fulfill the “mommy” duty of having to crack the door to check for color and fit.  In the end, we left with quite a haul and a handful of outfits to mix and match.  Not bad for her first day in Chaos.

 

The following Monday was the big day!  A nine-thirty Razzle Dazzle appointment for a cut and highlights followed by photographer-wanna-be torture.  Downtown and down in an weedy field the poor girl was poked, prodded and plastered with hairspray to get the “shot”.

 

Meet Sandra.  She’s seventeen, a senior and the sweetest teenager I know.

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lessons in What Not to Do: Tying Knots

 

 

Wow oh, wow.  Where to begin? 

 

Meet Holly and Don.  They got married a ten days ago and for some reason decided to hire me to be their “photographer”.  Holy Cow….  I literally cried when her sister, Mrs. B sent me the email.  Seriously?  Really?  Really, REALLY?  Are you sure?  Wow.  To say I was dumb-smacked would be an understatement.  This was either the best compliment yet or a big, heaping bunch of crazy.  No offense M, but I’m leaning towards crazy on this one.   This is me were talking about here; just a girl, her camera and lofty aspirations anchored in concrete shoes.  Gulp.  I said yes.

 

Homework, lots of homework.  I have a few really good amateur and pro-photog blogs I visit.  Each one has a different style and a unique eye that I would love to have a fraction of.  I got the chance to meet the bride and groom about a month before the big day to get an idea of what they wanted, what I could possibly do, and all the particulars.  I wouldn’t recommend going into any event blind.  Lesson learned;  the more homework the better.

 

Nightmares and vomit.  Yep.  You’d think I was the one getting hitched.     I was pushing the recommended dosage the so-called experts slapped on the Alka-Seltzer warning label.  Being the optimist that  I am, all the “what if’s” nearly killed me.   What if I under or over expose everything to the point of no return?  What if I fall on the bride and groom.  What if I lose all my shots?  What if I drop my camera or lenses?  What if my computer exploded?  What if a meteorite hits the house?  What if….   Lesson learned; don’t eat anything spicy the week before and pop a couple of valium.  Just kidding on the valium.

 

So the big day arrives and those knots in my stomach tighten to the breaking point.  There was another “girl with a camera” – a very big, grown-up camera (D700) - that left me feeling that much more under-qualified for the task ahead.  Sure, it’s not the size that counts, but it sure does help.  I watched her work her bride and groom plus family and tried to follow suit.  Unfortunately, high noon doesn’t allow for oodles of open shade to stuff a large group under so we had to wait until they were done before our party could move in.  Lesson learned;  don’t size up the competition, just the group shots.

 

Phew!  Family temple-side shots in the can as they say and the temperature keeps rising.  I believe it was reaching 100* and everyone was melting, myself included.  Luckily the luncheon was right next door at the meetinghouse so family and friends could find quick relief.  The bride and groom on the other hand were at my mercy.  Having done my homework, I had a series of poses to work through.  A photography road map of sorts to get from point A, B, C and back again without radical changes or crisscrossing the grounds.  Unfortunately, the lawns were soaking wet, muddy and in a few places, underwater.  Mental note to nix the grass pictures and readjust.  Can you smell the smoke?  It’s my map (and my noodle) going up in flames.  Or is it down if flames?  Take your pick, either one will do.  Lesson learned;  adapt and try your darnedest not to spontaneously combust. 

 

Receptions equal lots of pictures of everything.  The centerpieces, entry tables, cake, punchbowls and pretzels – I mean everything.  All those little things that with everything else going on throughout the day seem to slip through those memory cracks.  To add to the excitement, the fire alarm was pulled and with it came all the sirens, bells, and whistles with a fire truck to boot.  It was pretty funny.  Definitely memorable.  Talk about burning love….  Lesson learned:  take advantage of the chaos and turn it into something worthwhile. 

 

With the bride and groom happily off on their honeymoon, I was off to start part two – editing.  I’m trying really hard to have a soft hand, the barely there effect that adds just enough snap, crackle, and pop to make it hum.  Anyway…. here’s where another hundred lessons are learned. 

 

For now a peek.  Holly and Don haven’t seen these yet.  (Just for you, M!)

 

 

 

 

 

Lessons in What Not to Do: Getting “Mary-ed”

 

 

 

 

Last week I had the opportunity to do my first engagement “session” for Mary and Bill.  I did my homework.  Lots of homework.  Came up with a few ideas and things I would like to try, but most of all I was hoping – praying – not to screw it up.  We went to two locations, the abandoned rock house a just down the road and the green space around the corner.  Time was a factor so I’d rather snap than waste precious minutes driving.

 

The old house was great.  I’d love to officially get permission to trespass.  Did I say trespass?  I mean, observe the beauty at close range.  Multiple phone calls, a few neighbor visits and still no luck getting hold of the older gent.  Plead ignorance and beg for forgiveness, right? 

 

It was around one o’clock in the afternoon and the rock walls of the house face south.  Not the greatest lighting situation and it shows.  I’d love to try again in the early morning/late evening when the sun is just below/above the horizon.  Any willing victims out there?  Lesson learned, be more mindful of the light.

 

As always, the green space was a treasure trove of backgrounds.  On Mothers’ Day, I found a that our mega-bag of hotdog buns had sprouted and suggested that we feed the ducks, giving me the a chance to get out and enjoy the beautiful weather and make mental notes of the best settings.  Creek, boulders, trees, flowering bushes and green grass – what more could I ask for?

 

Things went really well, well… I think they went well despite my jitters.  Bill and Mary were great; cool as a cucumber and willing to do most everything I asked no matter how crazy it seemed.  It’s a whole different world taking pictures of people who can sit still longer than two seconds without squirming, picking their noses and all together vacating the framed shot.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the kiddos.  They have the best natural shots. 

 

Yeah, things went well – that is until I slid myself waist deep into the creek and then some.  Of course I was totally up for it.  It was my idea.  I’m already a major dork so taking it one step further isn’t much of a jump.  Like the difference between lilac and periwinkle, it’s still lavender.  I suppose it isn’t so much a lesson in what not to do as it is to just be prepared to get a little messy.  And on a side note, mid-rise jeans when wet morph into low-rise.  Keeping my pants hiked up was a challenge, kind of like the days of the ‘hook’.  You girls know what I mean.   Just F.Y.I. if you’re planning to jump in a creek with your clothes on anytime soon.

 

So we finished up the last of the shots, I couldn’t think of anything more and after two hours I think we all were a little tired.  The three of us started heading back to the car from the middle of the green space trail when I discovered that my keys were missing.  Two black headed, chunky-chip keys, a host of house/church keys, two large rings, a key fob for the Yukon and some how I missed placed all of that.  I checked my camera bag, no glory.  The reflector bag… no luck.  By now my jeans were sticky and there was no way the lot could be shoved into my pancake pockets.  Panic starts setting in, “oh crap” was right. 

 

The first spastic thought that jerks my mind is calling in the troops (you know who you all are) for an emergency extraction.  Good thing Bill reminded me to take my phone out of my front pocket as the water crept up to my hips.  It still works despite chucking it to shore, I can still call.  Unwilling to admit I’m a complete and utter idiot, I pushed the S.O.S. to the end of the line and tried not to sprint back to the the creek side location where I decided to take a swim.  No keys. 

 

Mary said that she’d return to our first locale and check there while Bill and I kept looking.  I should probably reiterate the fact that we were on a short time schedule, that Bill’s flight left at six and it was almost four.  Shortly after, we followed in her footsteps to find her heading towards us and shaking her head.  I was closer to making that phone call.  Checked the rocks, checked the trees.  “Are these it?”  Mary asked, holding up my current bane of existence.

 

Feeling about as bright as a burnt out bulb, I took them home, picked Miss Is up from a very “charitable” sitter and retreated back into my little hidey-hole of the world.  I hadn’t heard from the boys so I was hoping to find them engrossed in a video game or cartoon.  I guessed right and for the record, they had called.  It just happened to be during the frantic throws of stupidity.

 

Adding injury to insult, I slipped off my new pink slipper shoes to find bloody heels and swelling blisters.  Another lesson learned.  Don’t wear spiffy let alone new shoes no matter how put-together you want to look. 

 

Thanks Mary and Bill for letting me go snap-happy!

 

(Click picture below of a slideshow link.)

 

Lessons in What Not to Do: Bippity-Bubbly-Goo

 

 

 

So I had the opportunity to click away last week and my more-than-willing victims belonged to the P family.  I tried thinking of something fun because heaven knows that even the most well-mannered kids can only say “cheese” and hold a pose so much.  Besides, I personally like capturing them as they are and not so much as I want them to be. 

 

I brought a few bottles of bubbles that I didn’t hide as well as I should have and before I got my index finger warmed up, the sticky suds were spilled down khaki pants, dress shirts and lovely ties.  Lesson learned, bubbles are better in the bottle until the very, very end.  All’s well that ends well, right? It was a lot of fun and I think there was some success.  Thanks P’s!!