Okay, that is a bit much. Me telling you how to work a scene as if I am some sort of authority. I am not, but that doesn't mean I can't share my feelings about this type of thing. I have, after all, been staring through a stupid little box for much of m…
Okay, that is a bit much. Me telling you how to work a scene as if I am some sort of authority. I am not, but that doesn't mean I can't share my feelings about this type of thing. I have, after all, been staring through a stupid little box for much of my life. I like working a scene. Heck, I like working bad scenes, so when I stumble upon something with potential, I feel like Tony Manero staying alive with his paint can. Just don't touch the hair.
Miami is a photography goldmine.
You just don't know. I heard a Brit interviewed about what it was like living in America. He said, "Miami has no rules." It's true. Bath salts, square grouper, and cocaine cowboys. Cuban coffee, pastel structures, and Bikes up Guns Down, and this is what bring me to this post. Also, this video footage of the group is a bit misleading. My experience was quite different and was also confined to a specific neighborhood. Even as a dork with a camera, I was welcomed.
Initial image of the scene.
I was working with Andrew Kaufman on this day. Kaufman lived in South Florida for thirty years and knew Miami well. We had a plan, and areas we wanted to explore, but when we turned the corner to see a hundred dudes on bikes ripping wheelies up and down the streets, well, it was game on for a bit of improvisation.
Anytime I encounter something good, there is a feeling of creative anxiety and a parallel feeling of "Don't screw this up."
We parked and began walking toward the main area of activity, stopping to shoot, and to to talk to people. Trying to get a better idea of how welcome and free we were. There was a guy in a "Drunk as Fuck," t-shirt, and this beautiful African American woman who flashed her tits at me. I'm not sure why but I didn't complain. The air was filled with two stroke oil and gas, and tire smoke backlit in the afternoon light.
Second image of the scene.
When I approached a corner I felt the ingredients for a good photograph. I felt it. I didn't see it at first, I actually felt it, which is how things tend to happen for me. I knew something was there and I began to investigate, first seeing simple, clean images and then becoming more aware of the layers working around me. The simple, clean, initial images are important because they help you begin to build your frames, but also help those you are photographing become more comfortable with the idea you are there and that you are that close to them. They know you are there but don't acknowledge you or deviate from their routine. Simple images illustrate individual layers.
Third image of the scene.
The first two images were profiles, so I moved in front for the third image. More commitment, more proximity. Impossible for them not to know I was there. I find these two women to be truly regal. The hair, the glasses, the clothing. Stellar. Worthy of my best effort because they have put forth theirs. But as I kept shooting, I realized that although these two women were the focal point of my interest, there was more. Context.
Fourth image, pulled back to begin looking at these incredible women as the midground.
I was working with a Leica, so my brain wasn't in portrait mode as if I had been using my Hasselblad. If I had been using my Blad, I would have asked for tight portraits. 80mm, wide open, TRI-X. Money. The light was getting really solid, so backlit 6x6 portraits would have been simple and beautiful. But I wasn't working with the Blad. The Leica isn't really a straight portrait rig. The Leica is about layers, which means I pulled back instead of moving forward.
Image number five. Still there as my midground but too much happening. They get lost and don't get the placement they deserve. I do still like this frame.
As I moved to the far side of the street, I turned back and began picking my moments, watching and waiting for the right body language, timing, and foreground action. Click, wind, wait. Some frames were close, but not quite right. Too simple, too busy, too scattered, too much motion. And then slowly the final frame began to emerge. Just the right body language. Light working throughout. A third player on the board.
My final image.
The woman on the left isn't looking at me, but I love her stare into the distance and away from the view of the other two players. The body language of the woman in the middle. The heel off the ground under the door. The hand on the door and slats in her shirtsleeve. The convertible top partially open. Hard side light. The man on the right filling my background.
I could crop. That might be the only thing I would change. I would also spot this negative. I left it unspotted because I'm a jerk and was too busy to take the time to fix it. I wanted to show this image, and this scene, because it represents the kind of photograph I make. Reality-based, real, intimate, difficult, documentary-style images that exist in one or two frames total. Ever. No old buildings, barns, or cars, and not waiting at a corner for someone to walk through a beam of light. It's about understanding the "theatre" if you will. Understanding place, distance, spacing, human behavior, timing, and composition.
The reason why you don't see more of this work is that it is too risky for social media or YouTube. This work typically takes too long. You might make one or two frames a day, or none at all, and that just doesn't work for scale. As for what happened with this image. Nothing. Never published, never shown, never sold, never even attempted any of that. I enjoy the experience and the challenge. Don't need another reason.
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