You're Doing It Wrong

My name is Rob, and I am woefully ill-prepared. I had been to the venue before - WorkPlay in Birmingham. The last time I'd been there was the first concert I "covered". I managed to smuggle my DSLR in through security to shoot a MuteMath show. I shot everything from the same place in the crowd, and had an absolute blast.

I've never really been a concert guy. I mean, I've been to several. But, I'm always the guy who's just nodding his head, standing next to the sound booth. That's where everything will sound the best, and, ya know, people don't step on my feet or spill beer on me.

I've come to appreciate live music a lot more in the last few years. I think shooting that show sort of solidified the whole thing. Recently, I was lucky enough to be granted an all access pass to the Brother Cane show at WorkPlay. A guy of whom I'm a huge fan, and seen countless times around town happened to be a member of the band. His name is Dave Anderson. Anyone that knows him, knows he's a cool cat.  While playing, he'll greet people and say goodbye to folks leaving, all without dropping a beat. He's a genuinely nice guy, and never seems to forget a face.

I went up to talk to him after a show, speaking of him being a nice guy, to thank him for singing happy birthday to me. He was busy packing up all his stuff for the next gig that evening, shuffling around, unplugging, etc. The conversation went something like this:

"Happy birthday!"

"Thanks, man! Hey, I hear you've got a Brother Cane show in Birmingham soon"

"Yeah, at WorkPlay." he says still shuffling around.

"Would you happen to want a photographer?"

"...yeah," as he drops what he's doing to look at me, "that'd be great! yeah... I can.. yeah! Yeah, I'd love to have you come down! I'll get you a pass."

I was STOKED!

I was gonna knock this one out of the park.  I bought a new lens I've been wanting for a long time to shoot this show. I started studying what I could about concert photography.

Then, the day of the show came. I made sure all my batteries were charged, and memory cards were functioning. I packed up all my stuff and hit the road, headed to Birmingham, blasting Brother Cane the whole time. I arrived right when I expected - one hour before the opening band was set to go on.

I text Dave as I'm walking in the door, letting him know that I've arrived.

The response I get back a few minutes later - "I'll be there in an hour."

I hadn't expected that one.

I wander around looking for the will call booth for a bit. Shortly after I find it, I decide it's time to go see if I can check out the lighting of the stage.

With two cameras hanging around my neck, all access pass in hand, I wind my way around to the lobby outside the actual venue. There's no one taking tickets yet. Odd.

I walk around to the entrance next to the stage, and see some folks milling around. They look like caterers.

Very odd, indeed. It's now half an hour before the show is supposed to start.

I hear some noise coming from inside the venue. I peer open one of the gigantic double doors, and poke my head in to see a DJ in one corner and zero instruments set up on stage. The place was packed with people all wearing formal attire. No one could have been under the age of 50.

It was that moment, I had a bit of an epiphany. They're not playing on the main stage. I didn't even know there was another stage. Shit.

Hauling ass back around the hallway leading to the entrance to the building, I duck into the only other area I could see holding enough people to harbor a rock show. There's a ticket taker there. Nobody in a tuxedo, but lots of people in t-shirts with Brother Cane stamped on them.

Still almost in full-on panic mode, I just about threw my camera bag at the guy behind the counter asking(telling) him to hang on to it. As I entered the new venue that I'd never seen before, I notice it's already packed. There are people crowding the stage which can't be more than 2 feet tall. It's a really nice venue though. There's a sizable general admission area in front of the stage. Surrounding it, there was a walkway with lots of high-top tables and booths set up. The second floor was more of the same.

Meandering around, trying to find a decent vantage point while retaining the ability to move around, I realize it's probably not going to happen anywhere near the stage.

Double shit. My camera/lens configuration needed to be changed.

Just as I get everything all reconfigured, and walk back in, BeItTheMeans, the opening band, takes the stage. They're an awesome southern rock group hailing from Sylacauga, Alabama.

Trying to get the coverage I want, traversing the crowd with $2400 in moderately sensitive electronic equipment hanging from my neck, I run into Dave at stage left. He brings me back stage and introduces me to the band. Scott, Flip, and Damon all give me a really warm greeting, and seem pretty happy that I'm there. They get back to their pre-show routine. I manage to get a few snaps off, and sit down to sort through some of my shots of BeItTheMeans.

As Brother Cane is fixing to take the stage, I rush out the door to find a decent spot to start shooting. I managed to find my spot in Dave's "fan section" - a bunch of people I recognized from gigs around Huntsville. The lights dim as the band takes the stage. Within the first few notes the stage is brightly lit. Bright red. Time to set to work.

I take my first few pics thinking this lightshow is really red.

I decide to make my way to the other side of the stage, flipping dials and mashing buttons on my camera to compensate for the lighting.

The opposite side of the stage proved to be just as bad. Triple shit. This was gonna be a real challenge.

It was then a quote popped into my head, a quote that I try to live my life by:

"If you're not having fun, you're doing it wrong."

I was doing it wrong. I was worried about camera settings, lighting, positioning, perfecting composition, you name it.  Concerts cannot be shot in this manner. If I was constantly fiddling with the settings, and waiting for something I wanted to happen, I'd miss the whole damn show.  I needed to start having fun, and I did just that.

I got in the zone. I started letting the camera do some of the work for me. The camera served it's purpose - it became an extension of my hand. I captured anything and everything that caught my eye without discrimination.

I ended up with nearly 700 pictures that night, and had buckets of fun doing it.  There were fleeting moments captured in time that wouldn't have been possible had I still been concentrating on how it could have been a complete disaster.

I starting experiencing the world around me. I stopped doing it wrong, and started having fun.

To see what the disaster turned into, click here

Boss Move

My name is Rob, and my dad is a boss.

My step-mom scared me the other day. Like, really scared. This isn’t unreasonable given that that the last I had heard from Dad was that he was waiting to speak the cardiologist.

“Looks like I may have had a very mild heart attack. Right now there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll let you know more as soon as I find out.” is what he said to me. When my dad says there is nothing to worry about, there’s nothing to worry about. So I wasn’t worried.

Then, a few hours later, Tina called me. 

He was in the hospital.

I lost it.

She explained to me what was going on, and that he was fine. He was set to have a heart catheterization the next morning to determine the next course of action. The doctor had even given him the option of staying at home that night. Knowing my dad, he opted to sleep in his own bed. But Tina gave him the stink-eye, and so did the nurse practitioner at the office. You can’t argue with two of those, it’s an unwinnable battle. So, he stayed in the hospital that night.

I went to visit him that evening. He was restless, bored - but not worried. I was given a more thorough explanation of the series of events leading up the hospital check in. Here’s how it played out:

He decided to go on a pretty hard bike ride on Saturday morning. He went up and over Cecil Ashburn Drive (those who know that road, know you don’t want to do it on a bike). On the way back, he started to get pretty winded. This ride was kicking his ass (read: heart). He managed to make it back home in one piece, but was completely drained. Maybe it was too hot? Maybe he didn’t hydrate well enough? All plausible excuses.

The next day he didn’t feel any better. Nor the following day. Maybe he’s got the flu. He showed all the symptoms. That’s an excellent cause for that bike ride to hit him so hard.

The next day he went to the doctor’s office. Fortunately they had done an EKG a few months prior for his physical. Comparing the two, Doc said “Something happened, you need to go see a cardiologist. Like, now.”

“Yup, you had a heart attack.” said the cardiologist after the examination.  An echo-sonogram confirmed that there was, indeed, some blockage. We just didn’t know how much until the next day.

He was scheduled for the procedure at 11:30 am. It took longer than expected. Tina, some friends of the family and I were all anxiously waiting to hear what was found during the procedure.

Around 2:00 the doctor came out and gave us good news. They put in a stent and that he was gonna be just fine. No angioplasty. No open-heart surgery. Excellent. Excellent news. They even had a picture of the blocked vessel before and after.

You don’t have to be a professional to see what’s going on here. I know, because I’m not one. This wasn’t just a mild cardiac event. This was a serious fucking heart attack. ⅓ of the blood flow to his heart was going through that vessel. It’s amazing that he survived, and absolutely, mind-bogglingly... just, astounding that he was riding his bike up and down and up and back down one of the biggest hills in Huntsville while the whole thing happened. Due to diet and the level of fitness my dad had attained, blood was able to find a way around that vessel to keep his heart intact. He was strong enough to have a serious heart attack, and all but just shrug it off like it was the flu.

This is why my dad is a boss. Now, where did I put my aspirin?

Invocation for Beginnings

My name is Rob, and I’m just beginning.

There’s this guy. We’ll call him Frank. Frank makes YouTube videos that make us laugh. He’s put out real gems like Sad Cat and Sad Dog Diaries. Frank also inspired me in a way that my words cannot express.

When I’m feeling down, or overwhelmed, or lazy, or that the work that I’m doing is not worth it, I watch this video. And you should too.

For quite some time, my life didn’t really have a direction. Since high school I’ve worked in IT, tried my hand at a Mechanical Engineering degree, worked as a mechanic, and a parts guy, and a Census Supervisor. I received a bachelors degree in criminal justice that I’m incredibly grateful for, and that I’m not using.

Somewhere in that series of happenings, I got a camera. Like with anything else I’m even moderately interested in, I dove in head first. Off the deep end. I scoured the internet - reading websites, and forums, and looking at photographs. I devoured everything I could about photographic theory and practical application.

I didn’t get bored either. There’s always something new to learn and to perfect. A new technique, or a new advancement in technology to play with.

Since my college graduation, I’ve worked crap jobs - place holders in my pursuit to find my place in the law enforcement and investigations community. 3 years into my search, working as a parts guy at the local Porsche dealership, I decided something needed to change.

My life was stagnant. I got up. I went to work. I sold oil filters. I pulled tires. I checked the same websites everyday for job openings in my field. I got bored. Of course, I had things in my life that made me happy: My friends, my family, my girlfriend at the time, my hobbies. I just had no sense of accomplishment, nothing to satisfy my cheese monster.

I don’t remember the exact day it happened, but I realized I did have something that gave me the sense of accomplishment I was after. My camera. I was making some extra money shooting high school sports and events around my hometown for an online publication. I loved it. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had “working”.

The decision was made. I was to be a business owner and photographer by age 30. I made it, but just by the skin of my teeth. I sacrificed a lot - working 50 hours a week at a day job I hated, and 30-40 hours a week trying to get my business off the ground. I lost a lot of sleep. I neglected the people I love. They called me crazy for working so damn much, and applauded my determination.

So, here I am. Just beginning. I’m not yet successful, and yet not failing. I’m between 0 and 1. I’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of me, and a lot of rewards on the way there. Let’s start this shit up.