Ski Crystal

No song today.... just a quick note that Crystal Mountain (on mount rainer) opened a new lift this year and its all expert terrain. Went up yesterday and they had TWO FEET of fresh snow. Best skiing I've ever had in my life. No lift lines either. If you're ever in the northwest, Crystal is the place to ride.

Holidays

SONG: Little Wing by Stevie Ray Vaughn off the album The Sky is Crying

AWWW YEAAAA........time to go back to Seattle for the holidays. Still missing all my bags from the Monte Carlo trip. Really wanting a new guitar, as I stopped by Guitar Center off Union Square while Christmas shopping today and played the new Fender Stevie Ray Vaughn "Lenny" replica. Obviously I had to include an SRV song on this post, and Little Wing is one of my all time favorite songs to play on the guitar (although I will never play it as well as Stevie). This song blows my fucking mind.

I went out with my cousin and three of her friends from college last night and got absolutely trashed. I don't drink that much anymore, and its amazing how fast your tolerance goes down. In college 6 beers was just a pre-funk, but last night it was a border line blackout. I don't think I ate dinner though, which probably didn't help. I'm still slightly hungover as I'm sitting here on the plane, stressing out about those bags Delta lost.

We're not starting work up again till the 13th or 14th of January, but hopefully I'll have some blog-worthy photo experiences while I'm on break. We have a Costa Rica job lined up for the end of January so that should be a good one, and I'm taking all of August off to go skiing in Argentina. My photographer is saying that all he wants to do this year is travel, so there's a good chance I'll have some good stories and good tunes to put up soon. The Brasil trip was really fun, and it really made me more comfortable with my new job. Its always hard to feel comfortable in your work position, and my old job had this amazing way of making you think you were going to get fired every single day. We called it "the fear" and pretty much everyone I worked with at the company had it. I'm not sure how they kept everyone so afraid.....I think they put something in the water at that office, or tortured us in our sleep. I think it might have been the latter. I'm still having a hard time shaking the fear, but I haven't fucked anything up too bad yet. I would say "fingers crossed" but I'm really superstitious about that.

Brasil Shoot days 3 and 4

Brasil 3

SONG: "Think Long" by Mates of State off the album Bring it Back



We had a 6 AM call time for our third shoot day, and it was well worth it. Unfortunately, I rode on the back of the yellow buggy (even though its early in the morning I still like to party) and rather than heading for the beach, we went west into the golden sand dunes. It was a short ride to our location which was this amazing hacienda in the middle of nowhere. it was partially under construction and had a great run-down look to it. We were now shooting a different, much more editorial story about a woman who had lost her husband and had to run her farm-like mansion alone. It was a very sad shoot and it really changed the vibe from our crazy rockstar high fashion adventure, to a more creative, serious vibe. I feel that the locations and content of this shoot really made me sad, but in a good way (if thats possible). I chose one of my favorite newer Mates of States song for this because it has a lot of history for me. I listened to it constantly during a very dark/sad time in my life a few years ago, but this song elicits the same happy/sad feeling in me that this half of the shoot caused. Basically its a very important song to me.

We set up inside, which was a nice change of pace from being stuck out in the sun for the last two days, and enjoyed our beautiful surroundings. We had amazing local catering that was the authentic rice beans and chicken I had been craving since the terrible experience I had with the Chilean diet of hot dogs, avocado and mayonnaise last September. We shot inside and outside, both tethered and to card, moving around constantly. I really wish I could post the pictures of this story because they turned out absolutely amazing. However I am trying my best to keep this blog relatively anonymous, so that won't happen. Although maybe when its out in print I'll put a few selects up. We had a bit of down time on this day so I had a chance to take the camera out to shoot a few picks and retouch a nice scenic comp I did. The people were all very nice at the location, and I have to say it was one of the coolest locations I've ever been to for a shoot.

The next day was our last day of shooting and we only had 5 shots left. Our first location was WAY out in the desert and we rode through the sand dunes for about half an hour before the party buggy got stuck in a soft sand patch and 5 of us had to push it out. We continued for another 10 minutes before halting on the top of an enormous dune with a miniature forest on the dune above it. Going mobile, we hiked up through the forest to a quaint graveyard with an enormous wrought iron cross overlooking the grounds. At the base of the cross were arms and legs that had been carved out of wood. According to the rough english of one of the PAs, when a relative is having a physical problem with their body, you recreate it out of wood and place it under the cross in the grave yard in hopes it will be cured.


As we sat in the grave yard waiting for hair and makeup to finish, conversation naturally turned to death, and the sadness vibe of this half of the trip was really cemented. We did a quick mourning shot there and then moved to one of my favorite shots on the trip. We shot our model in a red dress, screaming and throwing sand Basically acting like a crazy person, and she REALLY got into the role. Half of us rolling around in the sand laughing as she's screaming "I'm back BITCHES!," "FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" and the like in her heavy Belgian accent. The shot, needless to say, turned out amazing.

We packed up and headed down to the mayor's house, which happened to be next to an amazing yellow church with huge blue French doors. We ended up doing the last shot of the job in front of it. Everyone was thrilled on how the images had turned out, and we all sat down for an amazing outdoor lunch under the trees in front of the mayor's house. The photographer fell asleep in a hammock, as Rose and I packed up all the gear and got ready for the ride back to the hotel (and yes, I got to ride in the party buggy).

When we returned to the hotel, it was around 2, but we had to leave for the airport at 9 that night (early return because I had to do all the prep for the trip to Monte Carlo). I quickly emailed at few images, printed the selects and headed down to the beach to get my ass kicked by the now 7+ foot waves. As I walked back up to the hotel alone, I had one of those "How did I get here?" moments, which I absolutely love. Those moments are really the only reason I do what I do. Seeing the world is pretty much my priority in life right now, and thus far I've been really lucky and am very grateful for all the opportunities I've had. When I got back to the hotel it was time to pack up, and after a quick shower, I got everything ready to go. On the way to the airport I was already thinking ahead to the two day stop over in New York, and the following trip to Monte Carlo. Good thing the holidays are coming up.....I'm starting to get tired.

Brasil shoot days 1 and 2

SONG: September by Earth Wind and FIre




We awoke very early and piled all the equipment and whatnot into the back of this big flatbed truck that followed us around for the next 4 days. While the gear was rolling along behind us, we rode on the back of these great little dune buggys. We had two (a yellow and a white one) and it was common knowledge by the end of the trip that the white one was the better of the two. Not only did it have TWO butt pads, but a kick ass stereo that played mostly Brazilian techno (and Yellow Submarine by the Beatles on the last day....an odd change up) at ear splitting volumes. Soaring down the beach in the newly christened party buggy at about 50 MPH, a techno version of Pink Floyd's "Money" playing, it feels as though you're on the way to battle. Home made shrimp boats lie silently all along the beach, their sails barely able to catch the wind, and vultures circle low in the sky over a fish carcass a half mile ahead.


Upon arrival at our shoot location, I am aghast at the desolation of the acid eaten canyon that will be our studio for the next two days. Its quite beautiful but before I know it, its overrun with equipment cases, vehicles, pale northerners, and 9 Brazilian PAs.

We shoot to card the whole day, making my job much easer, the workflow much more relaxed, and the vibe of the shoot much lazier. The model dresses in designer evening gowns, dark skin makeup with tight pulled-back hair and dances to the quiet beat of the camera shutter. The wind blows, the sun burns, and the earth cooks. We're just south of the equator, and if it wasn't for the wind we would all be swimming in a pool of our own sweat. I somehow still manage to sweat a decent amount (though no one else does) adding to my theory that, given an opportunity, I could sweat in Antartica while wearing nothing but a t-shirt.

Over the next two days, we complete 13 shots, which the photographer edits down, makes retouching notes, and I FTP to the retouchers within 6 hours of us finishing shooting. Technology never ceases to amaze me. At night we swim in the bath water that is the Atlantic ocean, drink caprihinis, and eat lobster with a Brazilian influence. The town is very small, and there are only a few European tourists wandering about. The restaurant on the second night is open air with lots of local art work and colorful decorations. We gorge ourselves on fish, rice, beans, salads, fruits, breads, lobsters, shrimp and chicken, as everything is served family style. Once we return to the hotel, I finish reading American Psycho which I can't really say I'd recommend reading. It was a little much more me.

At the end of the second day, we had completed the first story of this shoot, and the general feeling of the trip thus far was very fun, creative, and adventurous. As I fell asleep I thought of the promise made by the art director that the locations for the next two days would be amazing.

Travelling to Brasil

SONG: D.A.N.C.E. by Justice off the album Cross

Didn't sleep the night before we left, as my car was coming to my office at 3:30 in the morning and we'd been on set for the last week straight. Needless to say I had a ton of things to do so I put on a few of my favorite albums and pulled an all nighter. Once I got to the airport, checked my 9 bags, and stopped sweating, I made my way to the departure gate, hoping starbucks would be open. Too early still. The flight ended up being delayed for three hours, so I passed out on the concrete carpet of JFK, a place I sleep in about 4-5 times a month these days. On the plane I decided against bourbon being that it was 9 am, but opted for the sleeping pill which I probably didn't need at that point. I literally slept for the entire 10 hour flight to Sao Paulo.

Once we landed in Sao Paulo, we found out that we had missed our connecting flight and would have to stay in a hotel for the evening. We took a very educational cab ride to the airline provided hotel and found that while we had three people, there were only two rooms. I bunked with the photographer and Rose got her own room. Unloading all our bags from the cabs, Rose sang to herself "Do the D-A-N-C-E...." and I followed up (joining her in her state of travel shock) "1-2-3-4-FIGHT." Both of us have been obsessed with this song for the last few weeks, and it was audible quite often throughout the trip.
We feasted on the meager remains of the "Airlines screwed me" buffet, bought a bottle of wine and sat out in the front of our hotel boozing, smoking cigs, and exchanging travel stories. This was my first travel job working with this photographer, and of course it had to be some crazy travel job and not an easy trip to LA or something. I was pretty nervous and still getting used to working with Rose and this photographer, so our little layover bonding session re-instilled a bit of confidence that everything was going well.

We woke up early again the next morning and headed back to the airport for our flight to Fortaleza. Ironically, Fortaleza is a three hour flight NORTH of Sao Paulo and we flew within 100 miles of it on the way down. Either way the flight was delayed again, so we had some deep fried cheese balls (which sounded entirely more appetizing in their Portuguese), and made obvious jokes about balls in mouths for the next hour or so.

Upon arrival in Fortaleza, we met our drivers and went on a two hour drive to this remote beach village named Canoa Quebrada and ran immediately to the beach. Winding downward through a red sand graveyard, each grave marked with simple wooden crosses and covered with tropical flowers in various states of decay, we tried our best to tread lightly in our excitement to dive in the water. My first view of the ocean was not the typical blue water, white sand beach you would think. Strong gusts of wind blew tiny waves on top of the already 5+ foot swells. The earth behind the beach of gritty silicate filled sand was so arid and red, it looked like we were on Mars. It was all very wild and rugged, not the tame paradise I had been expecting. However, the waves were great for body surfing, there is a pretty good chance that the water was the perfect temperature, and there is nothing like jumping in the ocean after a 28 hour journey to our beach front destination. Going back to the nice villa that production had put me up in, I went to my roof deck and reflected on my first swim in the southern hemisphere just moments ago. Time for some food and a Caprihini.

Monte Carlo Part III

SONG: Carry On by Crosby Stills Nash and Young off the Album Deja VU



Flew back from Nice on Thursday (finally getting around to posting this)......One of the more nightmarish travel days I've had in a while. Woke up at 8ish to head down to the lobby and meet the car service. Delta called me right before we left to let me know that the flight was 3 hours delayed. Score. Nonetheless, a bunch of us piled into the Eurovan and coasted through the miles long tunnels, cliff side freeways and canyon spanning bridges that take you from Monte Carlo to Nice. Upon arrival, I went to the customs office to get the carnet signed, tried to see if my wayward baggage had arrived (its now Friday and still no sign of it) and then headed up to the crowded check-in line. It was pretty slow going since they only had two people for the whole line, but since I still had 4 hours until the flight I wasn't sweating it (sweating being the main thing I consistently do in airports).

I'm roughly at the back of the line, helping an older woman with her baggage as she tries to change her connecting flight to DC. With about 50 people left to be checked in, the two FRENCH (I now say "French" with a bit of disdain) check-in people literally get up and walk away. Confusion surges quickly through the line of travelers using a chain reaction of whats, whys, whens, and hows to run its course. Soon the Delta manager comes out and announces that Air France has gone on strike and that, maybe, on the next shift someone will come and finish checking in the line. Awesome. So we wait about and hour and a half, and I spend most the time bonding with my fellow distressed travelers (the older woman who is now retired in France, a Chinese nurse from San Diego, and two French women, one of whom is definitely a cougar trying to prowl on me), compulsively smoking cigarettes (Fumar Tue) and wandering the airport in search of various coffees. Finally a man emerged, angelically backlit, from the sliding glass doors of beyond and slowly began to check people in. Applause ensues. When I finally was checked in, it was a mad dash through security and down the jetway into my little-slice-of-heaven-window-seat.. Once settled, I surveyed the half full plane, giving waves and thumbs-ups to all my new friends, who had all made it on the plane.

After take off we had a beautiful view of the alps and, due to our late departure, an amazing perpetual sunset that lasted literally 6 hours. And that is something I will never get tired of, regardless of the travel circumstances. That and bourbon + sleeping pills.

Monte Carlo Part DEUX (French....Badass)

SONG: "A Sunday Smile" by Beruit


Woke up this morning feeling as though I was hallucinating the fact that I'm in France( I mean Monaco). A la "Fight Club:" If you wake up in a different time, in a different place, could you be a different person? I always think about that as I take Red Eye flights. You get on a plane at night, pop an Ambien, usually with a mini bottle of burbon (my personal airline boozing favorite), and wake up in X location. How do you really know that you're in said location? There's point A and B, but no in-between. I suppose thats the appeal of road trips. And probably why I am subconsciously terrified of flying. There is nothing more horrifying than the unknown/total lack of control, and the plane dropping 1500 feet in the middle of a trans-Atlantic flight, jolting you from your booze and sleeping pill inebria, definitely qualifies as horrific. That being said I'm flying back to New York first thing tomorrow morning. Look for the semi-conscious, 6'3 hippy looking kid crammed into seat 35 A. I need a haircut.

The shoot today went really well. Chilled out in the hotel for most of the morning, Delt with Delta all morning since they lost three of my cases which had my expensive computer gear in it, went swimming in this crazy indoor/outdoor pool (mostly indoor though, its about 40 something degrees here), and watched a lot of BBC. We shot our tennis player for about 90 minutes and ended up with about 400 frames. Not too bad. Everyone was really happy how everything went and we had a killer dinner next to the Casino Royale to celebrate. I would be in bed right now, but laptops process files ALOT slower than a Mac Pro with 8 processors. fuck you delta. Here's a light test of today, entitled Baguette y Fromagge....



The song for this post is one that Rose gave me. Its really relaxed and dreamy, so being that this was our last job before the holidays, I thought it would be a good idea to keep it chill. That and the fact that my brief layover in New York will conclude with my first full day home (Olympia Washington) in a long time. Which also happens to be a Sunday. I'm really trying hard not to have cheesy tie-ins with the songs for each posting, but so far I'm failing. Maybe I'll do better when I finally post all the stuff from our Brasil trip last week. Until then......this song is pretty fucking good.

Monte Carlo

SONG: "Don't make me a Target" by Spoon from the album Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga



In Monte Carlo shooting a portrait of a tennis player for a mens magazine. Took the red eye out (insert indefinite amount of time) ago and am still in a mild daze. Heard this song in the Virgin Music Store in Union Square on Sunday and googled "keep marching along, target, nuclear, lyrics" to find out the title/artist. Had it stuck in my head for the tedious check-in and even more painful security line at JFK.


Once in Nice, my computer, printer, and monitor didn't arrive, and debating a lost baggage situation in France, when you don't speak French, to a Frenchy, is just french-tastic. Hopefully they show today, otherwise its laptop time for our 90 minute window of shooting.

Cruising downtown yesterday, looking at the multi million dollar yatchs, the ridiculously expensive sports cars and people whose lap dogs are classier than me. Trying to get into the fabled "Casino Royale," you have a compulsory coat check, two security guards, and a 10 euro fee just to get into the parlor. Wearing a pair of jeans, some Nike street shoes, and an H&M "hey i'm trying to class it up" trench coat didn't get me the warmest welcome into the casino. Don't make me a target assholes. I'm just here to work.
View from my hotel room.....not too shabby.