Colouring : Portraits

written on May 23, 2017

The first time I listened to Colouring was in a Steak 'n' Shake drive-thru in Indianapolis. It was the only the second time I'd been to the city since I was five and the first time I'd met Abby, my friend and fellow late-night Steak 'n' Shake consumer. We were driving home and talking about bands that were perfect for late-night drives--bands like Coldplay and Paper Kites--and Abby asked if I'd listened to Colouring before. I hadn't. So while we waited for our burgers and vanilla Cokes, I listened to them for the very first time. Little did I know, in just a few short weeks, I'd be a couple states over shooting their portraits.

The day of the show and the shoot, I was excited and nervous all day. Goodness, I was shooting the show and portraits of this adorable British band and, to top it all my nerves off, it was raining. Pouring, really. When we met late in the afternoon, I'm sure I was a bit of a sight: orange men's beanie pulled over my carefully straightened purple hair, soaked black hoodie, black leather pants, denim jacket tied around my camera bag in a last-ditch attempt to keep it dry. But the Colouring fellows didn't blink at it and asked me questions about my day and my home and my photography. Immediately, they set me at ease.

Because of the rain, most outdoor locations were ruled out, but we also couldn't shoot in the venue. But before our shoot, I'd wandered around a bit and found a couple dry nooks within a block of the arena. These photos were all within a block's walk and we took them all in about 40 minutes, including walking time. 

Billy Raffoul : Portraits

This fall, I spent 3 days on one of Billy Raffoul's first tours. It was a blast spending time with these folks and I hope we get to do it again! In addition to shooting the shows, I took portraits two different days: Sunday in Omaha and Monday in Kansas City. On Sunday, the neighboring brewery allowed us to shoot inside and on Monday, we utilized the nearby buildings. Thanks to Billy, Alex, Sara, Justin, and Interscope! 

Sir Sly : Portraits

I spent an afternoon and evening with Sir Sly, shadowing them during soundcheck and a shirt signing at local store Raygun, and shooting their show at Woolys'. My favourite part, however, is always the portraits. A few minutes and some makeshift lighting tricks, and we got some awesome shots. Thank you guys (and Interscope)!

The All-American Rejects : Portraits

Friday I got to the venue 2 hours early. I'm never early, but I was nervous as anything and wanted to make sure I was fed (at the mall next door) and changed (in the Barnes and Noble bathroom) and ready to shoot (by location scouting around the venue). Then I sat on the curb in the shade, in my giant bright silk shirt, and waited to be let inside. I texted: “I’m here; I’m the only one who looks like a 90’s grandparent vacationing in Florida and not a security person.”

Before I could even finish my LaCroix, I was ushered into the back of the building.

We decided to take photos inside, so everything you see here were locations I found with Mitch and Tyson in the first 5 minutes of entering the building. We hustled; they helped me with lighting (what gems of photo assistants) and we made it happen and I’m so proud of how these turned out. New motto: don’t make excuses; make art.

From there, my expectations for the rest of the weekend were low. I would go downstairs and wait in the lobby until the show began. I’d shoot AAR’s first three songs, watch the rest of the show, load up into my car, edit and sleep at my Airbnb, and begin again in the morning. I expected the weekend to be fun, but also a little lonely, living in my car, not knowing anyone, traveling through three cities.

But nothing happened as I expected.

We got done shooting early, and the fellows walked me back to the green room, offered me a drink, and we talked. And they went out of their way at the entirety of the weekend to make sure I had AC and wifi and water and food and somewhere to stay at night. Who is that kind to someone they met a day or two ago? Nothing was as I expected, but all of it was better. 

I guess what I'm saying is, I'm really grateful for kind humans. They were under no obligation to talk to me or befriend me at all, but they did. I left with new friends. 

I started the weekend with the words: thankful, hopeful, ready. And I think they ended the weekend well, too. I don’t know if this story is a beginning or an end, or both altogether, but I’m thankful, hopeful, and ready for whatever is next in my story. Thank you, Mitch, Chris, Tyson, Mike, and Nick, for welcoming me into your little framily for a weekend. You're good eggs and I'm grateful to have met you.

The Japanese House : Portraits

Last night, I photographed Amber Bain--more commonly known by her band name The Japanese House--at Bottom Lounge for Interscope. In addition to shooting her performance, I was able to get some portraits of her in the empty venue before the show. Floored. Grateful beyond belief. The first show I ever shot was in April 2010 and it was because a kind human named Josh gave me a chance Last night was another instance of a kind human giving me a shot. Man. Undeserved of this life. Thank you, Carl, for rooting for me. Thank you, Caroline, for being so kind and helpful. Thank you, Amber, for being such a sweet human. 

About two years ago, I started shooting stranger portraits. I'd approach strangers, usually in big cities, usually outside, and ask for their portraits. I'd have perhaps a minute or two with each human; that meant that in a minute or two, I'd have to determine where to shoot, how the light was falling, and how best to angle the person's face so that light fell in a flattering way. Last night felt like the cumulation of all those stranger portraits. I was ushered into the empty venue--that I hadn't stepped inside in over a year--and had seconds to scan the venue and search for light and a little bit longer to pose Amber. Practice your craft, guys. Practice so hard. Because you never know when an opportunity will be set before you and you'll want to be ready.

LANY

All the images are unedited disposable camera shots and all the lyrics in quotes are from LANY's "Youarefire."

"Half days and Fridays and any days..."

I've been hustling 10-hour work days this week so that I could leave work at 11am.

Our only stop on the way to Minneapolis was at a rest stop. The light and the trees were just lovely and Blake is quite dapper so I asked him for a portrait. I was afraid it would be too dark without a flash, but it turned out lovely.

I'm pretty sure I took this at Spyhouse Coffee, but I honestly can't quite recall.

"...any days without school."

It's summer and roadtrip season. The world is wild and awake and saturated in color and life and adventure.

Spyhouse coffee. Otherwise entitled: 4 shots of espresso is a lot.

"Can I get a portrait of you right here next to all the cars?" Real life. Blake taught me about seltzer water and it was very interesting and feels quite European.

"Means more days in more ways, I've been running around...with you."

Blake and I left Ames around lunch time and drove straight to Minneapolis. Coffee, and all black everything, and no rain, and good parking. The world was in our favour. The city was ours.

Blake was kind enough to drive downtown and I took photos out of the passenger seat window. These tunnels fascinate me.

I took this shot--with flash--as we left, avoiding eye contact as we ducked out of the door, after lighting up the foyer with my 90's camera.

Minneapolis was full of old signs like these. This particular one was one of our favourites.

H&M

"Suburban World"

The valets across from this restaurant were doing a crossword puzzle together.

"This is it."

LANY

LANY went on just after 9pm and we sang and danced until the last song.

LANY : Paul

LANY : Les

LANY : Jake

OW: Oh Wonder / Oh Wow / Oh What a darling duo

Midnight found us in a white peeling parking garage (some might call it 'ratchet'), then we drove home, hands full of cold pizza, road full of fog, and eyes full of startlingly clear Minnesota stars.

"We are gold.
You are fire."

'68

I want to write more about my real life, so here is an attempt. I shot '68's show last night, and between bands snagged some portraits. I edited everything either with a VSCO 00 black and white filter or VSCO 05 Portra 100T--. In case you're curious.

This is Michael: he's in '68, the evening's headliner. I talked to him for a few minutes inside Vaudeville Mews, about Des Moines and Kansas City and burgers and donuts. In most conversations, at some point, I start talking about donuts because I'm awkward and that's my default. He was kind enough to continue the conversation and when I explained to him how I do stranger portraits and asked for his portrait, he said yes. We stepped outside and shot in the doorway of a partly-rennovated building then parted ways, him to play the show, me to walk around a bit more, then shoot it.

Between bands, I stepped outside to get some fresh air and get some portraits. Meanwhile, I shot a bit of the surrounding area.

Pro tip: wear mom jeans to show if you're shooting. The big pockets are perfect for lenses and prisms. Also, they're just comfy.

The next portrait I got was of the other half of '68: Josh Scogin. Josh and I had met briefly a few years ago, when The Chariot came through Chicago and we all went out for cake shakes, but we reintroduced ourselves and, once again, I asked him for a quick portrait. Shooting portraits this quickly is a fun challenge. You have a minutes (sometimes less) to scan the area, find a place, and pose a person. The area by Vaudeville and the Royal Mile was too colourful and distracting for my taste, but we didn't have time to find anywhere else. So I spotted the one place that wasn't splattered with paint--the stairwell. Josh nailed it. Then we made our way inside to watch Idlehands.

I've shot loads of hardcore shows; it's how I began shooting and I feel strangely at home in those loud, sweaty, screaming, dancing rooms. This was the first time I shot a hardcore show without the safety of a photo pit. It was exhilarating and I headbanged as I shot and only got hit in the head once.

Idlehands was a fun surprise. I hadn't seen or listened to them before, but quite enjoyed their set.

I missed '68 the last time they were in town--about 2 years ago--and I was not about to miss them again. I snagged a spot up front and watched and shot. I love how Josh and Michael play off of each other and seem to have a blast.

I'd seen Justin playing earlier in the evening (he's in Idlehands), then shooting around the venue with a disposable camera. Partway through '68's set, he came up to me and asked if I'd shot his band, too. Yup! I had. So after the show ended, he gave me an email to send the photos to and I asked, "Can I take your portrait?" He agreed and suggested the green room, where we used the single lamp to take this shot. He's about a foot taller than me, but I stood on the couch and we made the shot work. I'm all about light and people--this is both.

I was on my way out of the venue when Michael asked me what I thought of the show, so we chatted for a couple minutes, mostly about Zombie Burger. Then, because it's what I do, I asked him for a portrait. It was absurdly dark, both outside and inside, but we found a bit of light.

After the show and conversations, I wandered across downtown to Zombie Burger. I'm pretty sure I pounded some fries. The walk wasn't long on the way there, but it felt long on the way back. However, I snagged the shot below which nearly made the walk worth it. And I refuse to regret spending time outside or in my city. Slowing down is good for me. And, strangely, so are hardcore shows.

Wonderstruck

Somewhere between sandboxes and cubicles, life stops surprising us. Out of necessity—and granted, sometimes complacency—our lives becomes more routine than magical. We have bills due at the same time every month. Most of us have jobs that require us to be at a certain place at a certain time. Life loses most of the mystery of unpredictability.

Jamie Tworkoski, founder of To Write Love on Her Arms, is a wonderful wordsmith, genuine and articulate. I like honest people. He wrote a piece a couple years ago called “There is Still Some Time.” He talks about identity and hopelessness and hope and he has one line that has stuck with me: “There is still some time to be surprised.”

Sometimes we seek to be surprised. We visit haunted houses and plan birthday parties and vacations, and we hope for magic. Sometimes we forget how to be surprised. We want to have all the answers, all the reasons, all the possible endings. We want to choose our own adventure. But sometimes, despite our efforts towards surety, surprise finds us. Wonder finds us.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Mickey posted on Instagram about a magic show. Eager to try something new, I replied and a week later I walked into the Temple Theater for the first time, not sure precisely what I was getting myself into. Frankly, I didn’t really want to know in advance. I don’t usually watch movie trailers anymore; I want to enter a story with fresh eyes. So I knew very little about this magic show, other than the magician Nate Staniforth used to have a show on the Discovery channel.

I didn’t even know what to wear. Usually when I shoot a concert, I’ll look up the band to see what they’re wearing, so I can dress somewhat appropriately. (I’ve been the person wearing teal and orange at a metal show, and I learned my lesson.) So I looked googled the show: Nate was well-dressed, but not presumptuous, and I decided that my usual simple t-shirt with nice jeans would be alright. I added lipstick, just to dress it up. As it turns out, that was perfectly fine.

Though I wasn’t necessarily skeptical going into the evening, I was cautious. I’d heard sort of magician horror stories: things like hypnosis or situations where folks were made to do uncomfortable things. That’s not my cup of tea. My friend and I sat down, just as Mickey introduced the night with these words: “There is no age limit to being astonished.” And within the first five minutes of the show, Nate set me at ease. 

The next week, we sat down and I talked to him later about his life and job.

In our conversation, I mentioned that the only magician stereotype I could think of really was the sort that did tricks for children at birthday parties. I wish I’d written down what he said next, but I was too busy listening, so I’ll paraphrase it the best I can. “My favourite part of performing at children’s parties are the adults standing at the back. They have the biggest reaction. The people who have forgotten how to be surprised are the ones most likely to be surprised by mystery.”

That first night, as I sat in the 3rd tiered row, unsure of what was coming, a little excited, a little nervous, I felt a new emotion creep in: wonder. Nate did his first trick. I had no idea how he did it. I went back the next week: I still don’t have any idea. My jaw dropped and I turned to my friend, grinning and eyes widening. How was this real?

A few years ago, Taylor Swift released a song about a boy from Minnesota with the line: “I’m wonderstruck.” He coined the word and she sang it from stages to arenas. I love when people create words for feelings. She sang about a crush, but I think you can be wonderstruck by other things, too. When the lights rose at the end of that evening, when I stood up in the tiered room of the Temple Theater, I know what that word meant. I felt it.

We seek to be surprised. Part of me wished to know how it all worked, but most of me was soaring on that unexpected feeling of being surprised by magic. Halfway through the show, I was seriously considering volunteering for something. If you don’t realize how big of a deal this is: I’m an introvert. I never raised my hand in college and I certainly didn’t volunteer for anything. But in that short amount of time, Nate had gained my trust, no small feat for a stranger. 

How did he do this? I could tell he valued people. He asked for the name of every volunteer and remembered it. He talked to us like we were his friends, like we were important. We weren’t props—we were part of his story. When Nate and I met the next week, we didn’t meet to talk. We met for portraits (for this story). But when I walked in, he sat down and patted the row of red cushioned seats next to him, motioning for me to sit. He asked thoughtful questions about my life and photography; I learned that there is a close-knit magician community. I learned that Nate has traveled the world doing magic.

It reminded me of a pause during his show, where he said: “Mystery is the universal language.” I’d never thought of that. People are everywhere. Surprise is everywhere. It transcends age and culture and language. At the shows I went to, there were children. There were folks my age. There were folks old enough to by my grandparents. I saw older people laughing, children grinning: all amazed.

We all have the chance to be wonderstruck. I’d never considered the art of surprise, the art of wonder before. The wonder of mystery. We want to know that there is still something unknown, something worthy of awe and surprise. We long for it, I think. It’s a glimpse of something bigger than ourself, in the best way. That in our daily lives, there are still things to be discovered. That magic is real, even just for one night.

That evening I left my adult life and bills and routine behind. I didn’t check my phone for two hours. I didn’t want to. My imagination, like the Grinch’s heart, grew three sizes that day. If you want to be surprised, to be wonderstruck, to feel a little more wide-eyed about life: check out Nate’s show. I’m not being paid to say this—I mean it. Thank you, Nate, for surprising me. For the wonder of the unknown and the mystery of magic.