Takin’ it to the Streets

After decades of driving, and practically a lifetime of being a pedestrian, I have decided that you can tell more about a person by the things they do when they are in the street, than you can by the words they use to your face.

For example, the way someone reacts to being let into traffic says volumes about them. If they wave, or in some other way acknowledge the act with gratitude, I’d classify them as being good. You want to marry or go into business with people like that.

Those who look you in the eye, take the spot you’ve opened for them, and do not offer thanks? They are self-entitled. Spoiled. Rude. Or maybe they are just really distracted. Regardless, you want to avoid those people at all costs.

Another reliable personality indicator? The manner in which someone crosses the street. You will get more insight into who a person is (at their core) by watching them cross the street than you would from a swab of their DNA. Really, it’s true.

People who are cocky enough to wander into the middle of the street (with a phone or other device affixed to their ear) and expect traffic to just immediately stop?

They are jerks.

Also jerks, but not quite as bad, are the people who practically crawl across the crosswalk. Yes, we get that you have the right of way, but would it kill you to speed up the process? You know, just a bit?

Conversely, those who hustle through the crosswalk, all the while smiling and thanking drivers for stopping? Those folks are destined for a long life filled with good things.

And what about people who take up extra space in the road by riding their bikes side by side, rather than single file, the way the law requires? There is a name for them and it is: Lout.

And last, but definitely not least, individuals who scrape the paint from the rear of your car (the one you have babied since you drove it off of the showroom lot) and don’t leave a note?  They are the worst of the worst. Really, really bad people. The type of people that deserve to have chronic halitosis. And a plague on their homes.

Needed to get this off of my chest. Anything you need to vent today?

I’m (not) with the Band

I photographed my first concert this week. The headliner was Fitz and the Tantrums, a Los Angeles based band known for their hit single “MoneyGrabber.” Fitz and the Tantrums are quite animated on stage. Being animated is good. Except, as I learned on this particular night, when it leads to eyes being closed, tongues that appear (accidentally, and not Gene Simmons’ style) outside of the mouth, and excessive sweating. Other than that? Concert photography is a piece of cake.  A piece of cake with an ingredient list that includes: funky, and unpredictable, lighting; 700 music fans, who paid for their ticket and don’t really want someone poking them in the back of the head with a telephoto lens; and a bunch of mic stands and amplifiers that have a way of blocking crucial parts of the band’s anatomy.

This was not an easy assignment, yet, I had a blast! I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge and am looking forward to shooting another concert next month.

I don’t know about you, but I get bored pretty quickly when I look at concert photography that only includes photos of the band. Even if it is a band that love. I prefer shots that include, or feature, the audience. As I learned this week, it is not always easy to capture the crowd and band in the same photo. I was part of the audience for this show, and I took photos the entire time.  In the future, I’ll stand in a photo pit and will shoot only the first three songs of the band’s set, standard protocol when it comes to concert photography. It will be interesting to compare the two experiences.

You can see my photos and read a bit about the Fitz and the Tantrums show here.

As is always the case, some of the photos I took didn’t get posted. I try hard to tell a story with my images and as I shared in this post, editing is key. Here are a few of my favorites that did not (was trying to avoid redundancy) make the cut.

Michael “Fitz” Fitzpatrick is the lead singer for Fitz and the Tantrums. I wound up using a few other shots of Fitzpatrick in the photo essay I posted on Patch, but I really liked this one too. 

I liked this shot of Noelle Scaggs, Fitz and the Tantrums vocalist and tambourine player, quite a bit. But, in the end, I decided to use a slightly different shot of her shaking her tambourine in my published story. 

Yup, I liked, but didn’t post, this shot too. 

What do you think makes concert photography interesting? Do you prefer shots that capture the energy of the crowd? Or images that show band members interacting with each other? Or, are you all about the instruments? I’d love to hear, even if your answer is that you don’t like, or have any interest in, this type of photography.

30 Years Ago: I Want My MTV

Regular readers of The World According to Jennifer are probably aware that I spent a lot of time watching MTV when I was a kid. If you are new to the blog, or somehow missed those posts, or forgot that I wrote them, or pretended to read them, but really didn’t… you can check them out here, here and here.

I was in front of my TV on August 1st, 1981 at the exact moment the moon man first appeared with the MTV emblazoned flag. When it came to Music Television, I was, as we like to say now, an early adopter.  So… is it any surprise that I would acknowledege the network’s 30th anniversary? Well, maybe a bit of a surprise since along with posts professing my love, I also wrote about how ticked I was to be kicked to the curb now that I am no longer a member of MTV’s desired demographic.

Admittedly, I wasn’t thinking about being shunned when I tweeted the following:

Which led to this:

and…

And… a Billy Squier reference! Unfortunately, I can’t share that tweet because the person who tweeted it has their Twitter account set to private.

Anyway, all of this got me thinking that I wanted to challenge myself to see if I could come up with one bit of #MTVturnsthirty trivia every day between now and August 1st.

I’ll probably tweet the trivia relatively early in the day– here. That is of course unless I am struggling to come up with something, in which case it could be midnight or… (not at all).

Sometimes, Less Really is More.

One of the most challenging (also fun and rewarding) aspects of working as a photojournalist is editing. My job is to tell a story, using both photographs and captions. But sometimes, no matter how much I’d like to include a specific image, it just won’t fit. That might seem weird, given that I took the photo during the course of the event–how could it not fit?  Believe it or not, it happens frequently.

This past weekend I covered two events for the La Jolla Patch:  The 25th Anniversary of the La Jolla Festival of the Arts and Survivor Beach, a fundraiser for UC San Diego’s Moores Cancer Center.

Here are some of my favorite photos that didn’t make the cut:

This image is from the La Jolla Festival of the Arts. In the story posted on the Patch, I included a different shot from the milliner’s booth, but liked this one as well. The salespeople were going out of their way to be helpful to this particular customer. If you look closely you will see that there is a hand holding the mirror still–that hand belonged to the milliner; who jumped in to help the man (seen holding the red hat in background) seal the deal. 

Another shot from the La Jolla Festival of the Arts. I love photographing people–especially when I catch them in a quiet moment. There’s probably a reason for that, as I noted in my last post, what I choose to shoot often has as much (or more) to say about me than it does about the subject. I like this shot, but does it scream–”La Jolla Festival of the Arts”? Probably not, so it wasn’t included.  

One final shot from the La Jolla Festival of the Arts. I’ll be honest, I almost included this one in my photo essay. If you click the link above, you’ll see that the published version included 22 photos, I easily could have included ten more. In the end, I decided that while this is (at least to me) a very nice moment, it didn’t really add a lot to the story. 

This image is one of my favorites from the Survivor Beach event. I move around a lot when I am on assignment, and at this event, which was held at La Jolla Shores, there was a lot of ground to cover. I can’t even begin to describe how pleased I was to have spotted the Polynesian dancers getting ready for their performance. In the story that was published, I included three shots of the dancers performing, but felt that adding a shot of them getting ready would have been overkill. The dancers were but one part of the event, not the main focus, so I left this image out. 

Given the option, I would probably only photograph people. I don’t see “things” as well as I see people. Yet, every once in a while, I  surprise myself by making a photo of an inanimate object that I actually like. This image falls into that category. Surfboards were a central part of the Survivor Beach event, but this shot really didn’t fit. 

My favorite photographer, hands down, is Elliott Erwitt. For those of you who are not familiar with his work, I highly recommend taking a peek at this link.  Elliott Erwitt was a master of capturing the “Decisive Moment.” Often, his shots were made on the street and included dogs. My preferred place to shoot is on the street–and I have a thing for photographing dogs. So… what does the above image have to do with the Survivor Beach event? Umm… (*whispered*) nothing. I just couldn’t help myself… 

Going forward, I think I will devote my (Not) Wordless Wednesday posts to anything photography related. If there is something you’d like to read about, or see included in this space, please let me know.

Do You See What I See?

To me, photography is an art of observation. It’s about finding something interesting in an ordinary place… I’ve found it has very little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.

~Elliot Erwitt

So, to answer the question I posed in the headline:  No, you don’t see what I see. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Take this photo, for example:

I made this photograph on a very busy street in Rome. People were everywhere, yet, I captured what is unquestionably a solitary moment. I remember making this photo. I noticed the little girl was lagging behind her family. I loved the color of her dress and hair, and how she had the confidence (or was this was an act of defiance?) to do her own thing–even on a busy street.

This photograph says as much (if not more) about me, the photographer, as it does about the subject. This particular moment caught my eye because of who I am. It wouldn’t surprise me to know that other people, on that same busy street, noticed things that I missed completely. Lighting, exposure, composition and focal length, are all important.  But it is the intangibles, at least in my opinion, that matter the most when it comes to “making” (not “taking”) good photos.

Recently, I’ve heard a few people lament that if they had a “better” lens they could take really good photographs. Um, no. The quality of the lens (and other equipment) only comes into play after you have developed an eye, and learned how to express a perspective.

Writers have access to all of the same words in the dictionary. Yet there is little debate that those words take on the distinct tone of the person using them.  The same is true of a photographer. You can put five of us in an identical setting and you will get five unique visual interpretations. Well, that’s true if you have five people who know how to “make” and not “take” photos.

All of this has been on my mind lately because I am working on claiming, honing, and honoring my photographic voice. As with all things that are viewed subjectively, it is sometimes difficult to have absolute confidence in this voice, but I am getting there.

I am a photographer–hear me roar! (how was that?)

By the way, I have a new website dedicated to my work, you can view it here.

Photo: ©TheWorldAccordingtoJennifer

Manipulate Me, It’s Okay.

I have a favorite new song. Given that I tend to prefer tunes and bands from the mid-eighties, when I was a college radio DJ, this is kind of a big deal.

The song is Pumped Up Kicks by the California band, Foster the People. On first (maybe even second or third) listen, Pumped Up Kicks seems like a happy song.  There’s even whistling in it. Only it’s not a happy song.  And I think that’s part of what I love.

“…All the other kids with the pumped up kicks you’d better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks you’d better run, better run, faster than my bullet…”

The song is about the Erfurt massacre, a horrible school shooting that took place in Germany in 2002.  Clearly not a pleasant or happy topic. But the song… makes me dance every time I hear it.

That’s kind of manipulative, no?  Taking a cringeworthy topic and making it shake-your-butt appealing?

Strokes frontman Julian Casablancas employed a similar technique with the song Out of the Blue from his 2009 album, Phrazes For The Young.

“Somewhere along the way, my hopefulness turned to sadness 
Somewhere along the way , my sadness turned to bitterness 
Somewhere along the way, my bitterness turned to anger 
Somewhere along the way, my anger turned to vengeance…“

As he sings about exacting revenge, I snap my fingers and smile brightly. And again, I am okay with being manipulated.

Can you think of any other songs that take horrible, or uncomfortable, subject matter and make it not only palatable, but extremely pleasant? Happy even?

(Not) Wordless Wednesday

This would have driven Rockwell nuts.

Photo: ©TheWorldAccordingtoJennifer

How to Properly Say Thank You and Other Lessons Learned in Italy.

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.

–Mark Twain

Mark Twain got that right.

I’ve just returned from Italy. And as is the case every time I travel somewhere outside of my zip code, I learned a lot about myself.

On this trip, I also learned that:

~Italians get a kick out of the fact that Americans (some of them, anyway) willingly eat Prego.

~In Italy, demonstrations are common. We witnessed at least three in the course of one day. Personally, I think that is a great thing. It was refreshing and inspiring to be around people who do more than just “talk the talk.”

~It is possible to have terrible (I am talking shockingly bad!) pizza in Italy.

~You should never agree to have your photo taken with someone dressed as a Roman soldier. They will curse and threaten you with bodily harm when you don’t want to pay for the opportunity.

~Even though you ask (beg, really) the hotel’s concierge to recommend a restaurant that locals frequent, there’s a very good chance you will wind up dining with other Americans.

~Not all gelato is created equally. I know this because my family made it their mission to sample different versions at least three times a day. (Don’t judge.)

~The Italian polizia are, as my 14-year-old son would say, badass. The polizia (even the word is testosterone-laden) are everywhere. Some of them carry uzis and more than a few drive Fiats. And their unis? I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they were designed by Prada. The police we met were very friendly. And, quite handsome…

~And while on the topic of 14-year-old boys…(we weren’t, but stick with me) those from Italy seem to make the same sounds and facial expressions as their American counterparts.

~Milan is highly underrated.

~Lake Como, probably because of George Clooney (way to screw things up for the rest of us, George), is probably overrated.

~The word grazie is pronounced: grazee-ah. Saying it without the “a” on the end is equal to saying thank yo. Thought you might like to know.

~Depeche Mode was correct. People are people. Some are nice, some are not.  Personally, I don’t believe the place you come from, or where you choose to live, has a lot to do with which category you fall into.  I did not meet or encounter one unpleasant person (the exception being the aforementioned Roman soldiers) while in Italy. Doesn’t mean they aren’t there, just means it was my good fortune to avoid them this go round.

And finally,

~Speaking of people… (this time I was!) they can make or break a vacation. It was wonderful to photograph, smile at, and converse with, the locals. The interactions I had on this trip made me feel like the world is a smaller and friendlier place. I’ll try to  remember that the next time I encounter a tourist in my community.

I took a lot of photographs while away. If you are so inclined, you can view them here and here.

Location! Location! Location?

It was subway face that ultimately sent me, bags packed, back to Atlanta. After living in New York City for 11 months, I just couldn’t continue putting forth a fake face. I like to make eye contact with people, be they on the subway, or the street. But I learned while living in New York that it was better to fix my eyes on a poster or some other inanimate object rather than risk the wrath of a crazy or mean person.

I suppose if I had grown up riding the subway, this way of life would have been fine. But I didn’t.  I grew up in a place where people held doors open for strangers and at the very least, gave a head-nod greeting as they passed on the street.  Those types of things tend to stick with you. At least they did with me.

I have learned a tremendous amount about myself from living in different locales. In addition to the Northeast, I have called the Mid-Atlantic, the South, and for the past seven years, the West Coast, home.  And while I won’t say that one part of the country is better than another, I will say:

I am happiest when surrounded by:

Hydrangea and Honeysuckle.

People who like to chat (with strangers) while they wait in a line.

Tolerance and open-mindedness.

Warm temperatures and blue skies.

Neighbors who are neighborly.

Sidewalks—the kind that I can actually, you know, walk on.

Interesting faces.

Ethnic neighborhoods– filled with hard to pronounce foods and exotic influences.

A diverse population.

I am not sure that any one place I have lived has offered everything on that list. Or maybe they all have, but I wasn’t where I needed to be to experience it.

But that is okay, because another thing I have learned is that quality of life is not solely determined by geographic location. I take me everywhere I go. If I am not doing well on the inside, it doesn’t really matter where I hang my hat at night.

I am grateful to have lived in various places, and spaces, around the country. And while I will miss my children (a lot!) when they head off on their own, I do hope they will explore as well.

Have you lived in one place your entire life?  Do you think where you live defines you? If so, how?

And while you think about your answers, here are three songs that remind me of a few of the places I have lived.

(Not) Wordless Wednesday

Antique Garage Restaurant, NYC.

I took this photo with my Droid.  Not sure if the bartenders knew what I was doing, but if they did, they didn’t seem to mind.  There’s a story here.  Probably several.  Feel free to use the comment section to tell it.

If you are interested in seeing more, I’ve posted several of my photos from NYC on my flickr account.

Photo: ©TheWorldAccordingtoJennifer