Who out there likes flowers? Not me. I was never much of a flower guy. There was never much of a need for me to like them. Sure they were nice to look at, but…well, that’s it. They were nice to look at. Occasionally. Up until last year, my only real experience with flowers was getting a corsage for my dates to prom and homecoming, which my mother took care of, and the flowers for my wedding which my wife took care of. In my defense I suppose, I did pay for and pick up said flowers so I wasn’t completely dead weight.
Then something changed. Last year a bought a macro lens for my photography. This allowed me to get super close to things and photograph the fine details of an otherwise uncomplicated subject. As it turns out, flowers were a PERFECT subject for experimentation. So experiment I did and now I can’t seem to get enough flowers and plants in my life. I find myself noting new ones I’ve never noticed or seeing if there is a safe place to pull off when I see a spectacular roadside bunch of blooms. I’ve even bought some plants. What!?
The world of macro has really opened up my eyes and allowed me to see things differently. I don’t intend for my flower photos to over take my Pittsburgh photography as my best sellers in print, but I do intend to look at things differently as a result of my foray into flower photography. And I’ve been able to do just that.
Seeing differently, and uniquely, has always been paramount in my work. There are a lot of photographers these days so standing out is a challenge. With the Pittsburgh skyline being my perennial (see what I did there?) favorite subject, I wanted to incorporate it in to my newfound, ever-growing interest in flora. But how to do that? I think I found a unique way which you will se in the proceeding photos. Each composition will include some sort of bud, blossom, or bloom and also a bit of the ‘Burgh. Whoa! Holy alliteration, Batman!
Can you tell which part of Pittsburgh is peaking through in the pictures?
Walt Disney once famously said, “I only hope that we never lose sight of one thing – that it was all started with a mouse.” That mouse is of course Mickey Mouse and “famously” might be too strong a description of the quote unless you are a Disney dork like myself. The “it” he is referring to is essentially the Disney empire, which I could go on in detail about, but since I’ve alluded to my love of all things Disney in another post (READ IT HERE), I’ll skip that part. What I’d like to call attention to, though, is what this quote means to me: We all start somewhere. I’d like to share with you my somewhere.
Let’s travel back a few years, somewhere around let’s say fall of 2004. I was a sophomore in college and things were going well for me. Grades were improving and I was in what at the time seemed like a perfect, serious (for a 20 year old) relationship. I was happy…until I wasn’t. Well, actually, until she wasn’t. Several hours before the stroke of midnight on February 14, 2005 – that’s Valentine’s Day, folks – my “serious” girlfriend broke up with me. Ouch. As if that weren’t bad enough, at that very stroke of midnight, we’d rip another page off the old day-by-day calendar and I would turn 21 on February 15. Double ouch. But at least I could now legally drown my sorrows in beer. But I did not.
I’d like to say what I did was take this opportunity to take a negative and turn it in to a positive. I’d like to say it was no big deal and that “things happen for a reason.” I’d like to say those things, but I can’t and a discussion with my best friend recently reminded me that this saying is bullshit. Sometimes things suck and it’s okay for you to acknowledge that they suck. This was one of those times, even if only temporarily.
Make no mistake; I don’t recount this story for pity or feelings of sadness. By all accounts, I wouldn’t be where I am today without this chapter in my life. I am HAPPY now so I am grateful for what happened back then. It turns out that, in retrospect, this actually was one of those “things happen for a reason” scenarios. At the time, however, a void was present in my life for several months, a void that needed filling so that I didn’t sit around all day, wallowing in my self-pity making mixed CDs, which I did. I needed something to occupy my mind, to numb the pain but with a more positive influence on my life. As it turns out, that empty part of me took the shape of a camera and it was easy, satisfying, and productive to fill.
I started taking walks with my tiny little point and shoot camera, just snapping away with whatever struck me as interesting, with Point State Park being a common subject. The photos – snapshots really – were no good, but my mind was occupied and I was done feeling sorry for myself.
The void inside me began to shrink, and as it did my desire to turn snapshots into actual photos grew rapidly. Consequently, so did my camera when I bought my first DSLR in 2007. It was a used, entry-level camera – a Nikon D50 with a monster 6-megapixel sensor. It would be just perfect for my upcoming trip to St. Thomas and many trips to the zoo. But that camera just didn’t cut it. I needed more. I needed bigger. I am a man after all!
In 2009 I upgraded again for a trip to Mexico, this time to a new Nikon model, the D300, with twice as many megapixels as my last camera. At the time I thought megapixels was all that mattered, even though I wasn’t really printing photos. They’d only be seen on a small screen so resolution wasn’t as important an issue as I was making it out to be. But again, bigger means better, right? After Mexico, the camera probably spent more time on the shelf than it did in my hands – just kidding, I was a slob so it was probably in corner of my room on the floor under a pile of clothes and some empty Gatorade bottles. The point is I didn’t use it very much in ’09 or ’10.
Fast forward to 2011. I’d been using my camera a little more regularly at this point and uploading the shots to my Flickr account, a popular social photo sharing platform at the time. No one had really noticed the photos, and for good reason – they weren’t anything special or different. There was mostly wildlife and some marginal landscapes with a poorly executed Pittsburgh skyline shot sprinkled in here and there. (I just went back in to the account for the first time in year’s today to have a look at the early stuff, and wow! It’s like looking at pictures of yourself decades ago….”What was I thinking!?!”).
But then I uploaded a photo called “Winter’s Light.” This photo, oh this photo. It’s an HDR, which is short for High Dynamic Range meaning it contains fine details in both the dark shadows and the lightest lights and generally includes multiple exposures since camera sensors at the time were unable to record the detail that your eye can process in a single frame. Admittedly, it is very easy to let an HDR photo get away from you, looking almost cartoony and certainly fake. This photo is no exception. It has a painterly feel, keeping it just on the cusp of natural meets unbelievable but definitely falls beyond the range of my processing these days, which tends to have a vibrant, yet natural feel to it. That said, Winter’s Light has held up to the test of time for me, partially because I’ve yet to see comparably impressive light on the Warhol Bridge, which is the main showcase of the photo, since that cold winter day in January of 2011. Oh yea, and it still sells too!
A few hours after uploading to Flickr, it began to rack in the ‘favorites’ which is today’s equivalent to a Facebook ‘like.’ “Cool,” I thought. And that was it. Then the photo got “Explored,” which means a daily feature essentially. Again, cool! Up to this point, most of my photos received a whopping 2 favorites and if I were lucky, a comment or two. Again, they were mostly overdone HDR landscapes or wildlife shots that didn’t deserve much merit. This one, though, made it to triple digit likes and was racking in the views. This felt like a big deal for me. It turns out that it was.
Looking back, that extra bit of exposure on Flickr really was a catalyst for me. Though it didn’t go viral or directly result in any immediate sales – selling my work wasn’t even an afterthought at this point – and didn’t bring any notoriety either, it did serve as a fulcrum allowing me to leverage my passion for photography in to something a bit more. Winter’s Light did not launch my career in photography, but it sure has hell gave me the confidence I needed to pursue it!
They say that the definition of insanity is “doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.” By that measure, I certainly must be certifiable by now. I’ll get to why, but first a little lesson I learned early on, before photography was a career and just my weekend hobby.
Ever since my first time picking up a camera, I’ve attempted to keep a strong gras o the number one trait a photographer must possess. It’s not a unique eye. It’s not the most expensive camera or lens. It’s not even an endlessly deep wallet that allows you to travel to the most exotic locations. Nope, none of those. Necessity numero uno for someone wanting to MAKE excellent photographs is….drum roll please…. PATIENCE.
In most areas of my life, patience is a virtue that has eluded me. I won’t get in to the messy details of why I think that is so suffice it to say I don’t like to wait. That is unless, of course, I am behind a camera. When I’m framing up a shot, I’ll tinker and tinker until everything is just how it needs to be. That’s more of an issue of perfectionism and being in control at this point, but once the camera is set, I’ll wait for the conditions to compliment the composition. Sometimes this takes 10 minutes, sometimes it takes 30. Sometimes, like on a cloudy windless day where I’m playing around with macro photos, I’ll be able to setup and shoot with no waiting because conditions aren’t changing. Regardless, it doesn’t really matter how long it takes as long as I get the shot I envisioned.
So what does having an enduring resolve behind the camera have to do with being clinically insane? Well, not much, really, but please allow me to try and connect the dots for you. As it turns out I’m not quite as tolerant with waiting as the picture I just photographed for you would suggest. It turns out that if conditions are not shaping up the way I think they should or the way I want them to, specifically 15-20 minutes before the sun comes up or before it goes down, I’ll probably call it a day. I can’t begin to count the number of sunset explosions I’ve watched in my rearview mirror because I had been out for 2 hours and didn’t have the patience to stick around another 20 minutes because “it was gonna happen.” I can’t begin to count the number of sunrises that have looked like gloomy duds that turn out to be quite photogenic.
Realizing this problem doesn’t always happen in my rearview mirror either. Since photographers are so plentiful these days and everyone shares on Instagram, seeing my blunders is all but unavoidable because if I didn’t stick around, someone else did. And then they shared it. And I saw it. I saw the photo I didn’t get, but could have, serving as an instant reminder of the mistake I’ve made countless times already and probably will make countless times more. I see the photo of the sunset I missed…and it might as well be a photo of me in a straight jacket, because I am insane.
As I sit here on my front porch writing this on my phone, my wife is inside working from home on her laptop. She is uber-pregnant and hoping to go into labor any minute. I’m hoping so too because as much as I marvel at the miracle of pregnancy, I know she is in a great deal discomfort and all I want is for her to be resting easy, holding our new daughter tightly in her arms while our older daughter snuggles up next to them both. Me, I’ll probably sneak off to the corner for a minute and soak it all it.
See, as you know, I’m a photographer. My work is all about moments and crafting images to capture those fleeting seconds, hopefully creating a memory and if I’m lucky maybe even a piece of art. But moments don’t just define my work. They define my life. I live for the moments, big and small, and make no mistake, I’ve got a big moment coming soon.
In my life I’ve had a lot of impactful moments, most of which revolve around family. I’ve also had some early success as a photographer. Those moments are certainly meaningful and at the age of 34 I suspect I have a whole lot of time to create some more professionally (at least I hope that’s the case, but I better lay off the Dunkin’ Donuts for awhile just to be sure.). For example, I have aspirations of traveling extensively for my photography. Pittsburgh, my main subject is wonderful and I love it, but there is so much more to see. But the truth is, I’m not positive if I can ever do that unless I’m able to pick up my family and take them with me. I want to see the world but I don’t want to do it by myself. I want my girls right beside me. I didn’t start a family to just leave them at home.
No matter how long I live, though, and no matter how much I accomplish professionally, when I (and others) reflect on my life, I don’t want to be remembered as a photographer. I want to be remembered as a loving husband and father. I want my legacy to be carried on through my children, not the photographs I’ve created. I’ll cherish the moments and not worry about recording them. For me…it will always be family first, photography second.
We’ve all heard the term “the one that got away,” yes? Yes, of course we have. And for some of us maybe the phrase is even applicable. Not so much in my case because I’m married to the woman of my dreams and am about to have my second beautiful daughter with her. For those that are wondering, I’m not in the dog house or sucking up because my wife probably won’t read this, my first daughter is 3 and can’t read yet (yet!) and my second daughter, well the library in her womb has been closed for renovations for weeks so no reading in there either. Okay, let’s crawl out of the weird rabbit hole and get back on topic here. Focus, JP!
Now where was I? Ah, yes…the one that got away. I don’t have one. I do, however, have many many many suns that got away. See what I did there? I love puns and plays on words. I’m of course talking about sunrises and sunsets. As a city/landscape photographer the sky is my canvas and the sun provides the paint for it. Without light, a photographer has nothing. I think I’m pretty good, but I am no exception to this necessity for the suns gleaming rays.
With this dependence on light, for me, comes a constant, almost gawking and definitely studious observance of the sky, the position of the sun, and clouds or lack thereof. There is no foolproof method to predicting whether a sky will erupt with color or be a dud, but there are apps and programs out there to help predict such occurrences, but even without the technology, I usually have a pretty good gut feel for what’s going to happen. But just like the software, my gut, impressive as it might be, is not infallible.
Tracking the position of the sun, however is pretty precise and always reliable. But, just because I almost always know where the sun is going to crest or dip below the horizon, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get away from me. What do I mean? Sadly, that means I am not physically able to catch on camera every jaw-dropping sunrise or every sunset that makes the angels weep. Sometimes, when I don’t have my camera and I’m watching the sky explode with every shade of red, orange, and yellow imaginable in my rear view mirror or from my bedroom window, I sit right beside the Angels and shed a tear with them. And by sometimes, I mean this happens A LOT!
This mourning for color undocumented is usually pretty short lived once I drift back down to earth and realize if I wasn’t out catching the glow of a fiery sunset, I was more than likely spending time with my family…and maybe even able to enjoy that sight with them. So that’s the point of this kind of bizarre rambling. Take in the color. Enjoy it. Remember it in your mind’s eye. And certainly don’t sweat if you weren’t able to snap a photo of it.
All of my life I’ve had an aptitude for math and science, but mostly math. That resulted in a fair number of AP classes in high school and even more unsolicited recommendations – to be fair some were solicited – that I take that aptitude and turn it into a career. “Be an engineer,” they said.
Unfortunately aptitude does not always translate to interest, for me at least and especially regarding math. But never fear because I sure as hell let the voice of others telling me to pursue engineering overpower my own voice, which was nagging, screaming, and pleading with me to NOT be an engineer. Proficiency in math notwithstanding, it was and still is the science(ish) that interested me. Sort of.
Science caught my attention and held it, but only certain branches. Chemistry was not my favorite science by a long shot, nor was it my strong suit which became utterly apparent with my poor grade in Intro to Chemical Engineering in my first semester at Carnegie Mellon. Physics was more fun, in the loosest sense of the term, and it was a better subject for me than chemistry, so I opted to for Mechanical Engineering as a major because, well, “Be an engineer,” they said.
Throughout my time in college, I struggled. I struggled with grades and I struggled with motivation, which in retrospect has become a clear indicator that a switch to a different major should have been in order. But to switch scared me and at the time, I couldn’t handle the fear. Plus…remember those voices? “Be an engineer!” they said. And so I did. I graduated in 2007 with a B.S. in Mechanical Engineering from CMU.
I worked 5 years as a mechanical engineer for a local construction company and to say I hated it would be a vast understatement. But it wasn’t all for naught. Two amazing, life shaping events happened during my stint in corporate America.
First they sent me to Arkansas shortly after signing on. The money was great, the work was easy so also unchallenging, but I was alone in an unfamiliar place with pretty much just my camera to keep me company. At this time though, I was just dipping my toes into photographic waters so even my camera felt like a stranger. So why was being sent to Arkansas life altering for me? For one, it helped me to pay down a significant portion of my student loan debt and CMU did not come cheap. But there’s always time to make more money so I don’t consider that life altering. However, cheesy as it may sound, love happens when it happens and lucky for me, it happened on my trip back from Arkansas to Pittsburgh, I met the woman who would later become my wife and mother of my children. She’s a pretty special lady (hopefully she’s reading this) so maybe she’ll get her own story in a later post, but suffice it to say that she is the one true benefit to having become an engineer.
Life altering event number two was at one time the most negatively impactful occurrence of my life but I now consider it to be the catalyst for most things positive that have happened to me. You may have figured it out by now, but if you haven’t, I was fired and it was the single greatest thing to ever happen for me professionally.
There is something very comforting in knowing that no matter how unhappy you are at your job you will, in theory, receive a constant paycheck. But comfort is a lifeline that many of us are afraid to sever and most of us don’t need to. Luckily for me, and I can say that now, my line was severed by someone else. I didn’t have a say in the matter. Admittedly, 7 weeks before I was to be married, and on April Fools day no less, made for a very rocky period after the layoff, but being free to pursue what I loved and what I was good at provided, and still provides, everything I was missing as an engineer.
So what’s the moral of the story? Go to school for engineering, suck at it, get fired, become a photographer and everything else just falls right in to place! Just kidding, the moral is “Be what you want to be. Listen to what YOU say.”
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…