Once upon a time there was a young boy. Like most boys, he enjoyed sports and playing with Matchbox cars, which were concepts planted quite pretty firmly in reality, not requiring a ton of imagination. Also like most kids, his attention span was sparse, bouncing around between interests like a runaway pinball amidst a maze of bumpers, whether that be Ken Griffey Jr’s latest home run, the latest episode of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, or the fantastical happenings of the Ninja Turtles or Wolverine and the X-Men. But there was one world that never failed to captivate and encapsulate him. That was the world of Walt Disney.
Obviously, that little boy is yours truly. Hi! My name is JP…and I have a Disney problem. All my life I’ve been fascinated by just about everything Disney. My favorite movie ever, not just favorite cartoon or Disney animated film is The Lion King and if I could pick one unrealistic place to live out the rest of my days, it would be an apartment on Main Street with a view of Cinderella’s Castle. Many of my fondest memories as a kid are watching Disney movies with my family, and trips to Disney World, allowing me to escape every day life (not that a kid can be too troubled), turning my fantasies into realities and memories in to stories.
See, I’ve always been taken, even if only subconsciously, by Disney’s ability to fluidly tell a story through movies. But, and I mean this with no disrespect to film maker’s, it’s a little easier to tell a story when the audience is expecting one and there is dialogue to help engage the viewer, move the story forward, and convey the message. What I’ve recently learned to appreciate is the Imagineer’s (that’s what Disney calls their engineers, more on that in a later post, as that profession was once a dream of mine) penchant for telling stories throughout their parks, all without the use of narration. Static objects, or sequences of static objects, tell a story when the viewer isn’t expecting on, and they do it pretty flawlessly if you ask me.
This is especially intriguing to me as a photographer as it is not only my job to capture the beauty of what I see, but to convert a two-dimension scene in to a seemingly three-dimensional piece of art that not only shows the viewer what I saw, but conveys the story I am trying to tell.
It doesn’t stop there, though. The world of Disney, both the imaginary one created in movies and the physical one of the theme parks where you immersed into a state of tangible imagination (for me, I’ve not been to most of the parks, only Disney World in Orlando), are insanely meticulous and intriguing, with no detail, not even the tiniest minutia of something as mundane as a garbage can, being unattended to. It is that level of detail that I aspire to bring in to my photographic work.
To say that the storytelling prowess of Walt Disney the man, and since his death Disney the company, has defined the path I’ve taken as a creative would simply be untrue. I didn’t become a photographer out of a love for all things Disney. I’ve never consciously thought to myself, “wow, I wish I could tell a story like these guys.” Well at least when I first started out I never said that. But I recently began reading a Walt Disney biography (yep, my dorkiness goes that deep) and although I can’t say I’ve been influenced by his life or even his stories, I’ve certainly come to realize how much I am inspired, even if subconsciously, by him, what he’s done, and the legacy he leaves behind. And I wish to emulate that innate ability by molding it into my shape to achieve what I want to achieve.
So what is the point of me telling you this? Well, as I mentioned in my last post, this will be the story of me and my work. To do it justice and to do it in an entertaining way, I wanted to really take a deep look at what drives me, and as it turns out, a driving factor in my professional life right now is the innate storytelling ability of one Walt Disney. But that has not always been the case…
One of the things I’ve struggled with in keeping up with this blog is what the focus should be. Time after time I’d sit down with an idea, write a couple sentences, maybe even a paragraph or two, and then abandon it because it didn’t match the theme of the blog. There was a major flaw with this: there was no theme. There was no structure or cliffhanger to make you tune in next week to see what happens. It was a random collection of stories and photos supporting the story.
I know what you’re thinking: “Boy, this guy is doing a lousy job at selling his own blog.” To that I say…”True story!” But that was the old blog. That was the old JP. The new JP is firing up his revamped blog that is going to be completely different and more exciting than ever before. The new blog is going to be…wait for it…
….A random collection of musings, stories, maybe some humor, and of course, PHOTOS (I am a photographer, after all) from the far off place of JP Land. (If you’re interested in traveling there, now is the time…nobody goes there anymore and flights are cheeeeeap!)
So why no dramatic change to the original “structure?” Because I know my strengths and at this very moment those DO NOT include the ability to write a blog that can substitute as a novel.
Instead, I want the blog and stories to be for people who have followed my work for years as well as those who are just discovering it. I want it to be for those who like pretty words, those who like pretty pictures, and those who like pretty words about pretty pictures. I want it to be where people can escape the mundane of everyday life…okay that sounds trite, I admit, but I do want to create a 5 minute retreat with each post that at least one person can relate to, even if that person is only myself. I might just even add a bit of humor – work with me on this one, I’ve only been a dad for 3 years but I’m getting the “Dad joke” down pat. I want this to be just what it’s always been, but with more regularity. I want it to evolve as I evolve.
And this time, I’m doing exactly what I want to do which is to make this blog an extension of myself. To do that properly, to share my stories, I have to examine the story of me, learn who I was, who I am now, and who I want to be. But you’ll have to tune in later for all that…oh look, my first cliffhanger!
This is a post I wrote last week. I toiled with internal struggle over whether I should even share the writing or not, not out of fear of sharing something personal, making me feel vulnerable, rather I wasn’t sure if anyone would find it interesting. The more I thought, and continue to think, about it, though, the more I realized that the context of my thoughts are pretty common and if they help only one person, than my sharing will be well worth it. Unfortunately, as the title might suggest you will see, I do not have any photos of butterflies to accompany my thoughts, so instead I’m sharing my photo “The Lonely Leaf” which many people actually think is a butterfly and not a leaf. At any rate, enough rambling – here’s my experience. I hope you enjoy and find value in it.
A little over two weeks was a pretty big step for me…on a few fronts and in a lot of ways. I was honored enough to be asked to give a presentation about my photography to the Photo Section of the Academy of Arts and Sciences of Pittsburgh, or in simpler terms “The Pittsburgh Camera Club,” which as it turns out is the oldest continually operating photography club in America, starting in the late 1800’s. That’s right, the late 1800’s…almost since the dawn of photography.
I was asked back in August and emphatically said yes to such a gracious offer and awesome opportunity. We set the date for mid-April, giving me more than plenty of time to prepare, which I didn’t, and hundreds of days to stew on ideas while letting butterflies build permanent homes in my stomach, which they did.
Fast-forward 8 months to April 1. A few butterflies have not simply set up shop in my belly, the entire herd – what do you call a group of butterflies, anyway? – has colonized my body, and I am the “monarch.” See what I did there?
Luckily for me, I’ve had lots and lots of practice of keeping things stored in the back of my mind or the pit of my stomach – literally and figuratively on the stomach part, I like to eat – so coming up with a theme for the presentation was going to be no sweat. Or so I thought. As ideas popped in to my mind, I’d make sure to get them down on paper else they’d be lost forever and rather quickly at that. I was certain of the photos I wanted to include for the most part, but was still lacking a cohesive flow to the presentation.
The day before I was to speak, I spent 12 hours putting together a Power Point presentation, essentially relearning the program because I’ve not used it in well over a decade. It was a slow, tedious process, which both allowed my brain to otherwise focus on the preparation part while the nervousness about actually speaking to a room full of people in less than a day percolated at full force.
A funny thing happened, though, the morning of presentation day. I was polishing up the presentation – oh who am I kidding, I was finishing the last third of it when I had my “aha” moment. I put together 4 principles in which I look or hope for when I set out to create a shot. It’s rare to find more than one of the elements I hope for in one photograph, but in a moment of intense clarity, a feeling normally foreign to me as my mind tends to jump around quite a bit, I realized an image I had not used yet which drew from every single theme I had just put together.
It was at this point where I actually said out loud, in the middle of a Dunkin Donuts, mind you, “Holy shit. This is a damn good presentation.” Again, this was a rarity for me as I am my own harshest critic. Nothing is ever good enough for myself, and as a sole proprietor of a creative business, that’s how it has to be for if I get complacent, or even comfortable, my work will stagnate and the business will fail. But there was going to be no failure this time. I was proud of what I had put together and confident in the material. It also helped that I know my work and my processes inside and out. It’s funny how a little knowledge and a smidge of confidence can drive off a colony of butterflies squatting in someone’s stomach.