This is me flipping off my sixteen-year-old niece with my second finger instead of my middle finger. Gotta keep it nice. The wedding went well, and I’m stoked for my nephew and his wife, and everyone else involved in the chemical equation that created this little moment. I was there to press the button. “Wear white,” they said. “Turn your phones off, we have a professional photographer making the pictures.” Yep, me. The guy who hasn’t shot a job in fifteen years. The last time I photographed a wedding, I used a Hasselblad and TRI-X. How things have changed.
The bus driver threaded his metallic monster through the streets of Cozumel. Offshore, it’s a turquoise world, but onshore it’s dust and muted colors of old paint and aridity. Surrounded by water, but not a drop to drink. I love Mexico. Always have. Heck, I love the border, the place of so much political nonsense, mostly by people who have never been. Deep in the bowels of Quintana Roo, just far enough away to make you want to rent a moto and pin that fucker into the green.
I have mixed emotions about life, but that’s what makes life so interesting. As an “observer,” I have liberties that non-functional, mouth-breathing dolts do not have. I’m curious. I’m interested, and I like to pull the curtain back, especially on things right in front of our overfed faces. I tried to gain as much weight as possible on the cruise. I ate four to five huge meals a day. I called this “Operation Weight Gain.” I went in at 165, and I’m guessing I waddled out at 175, the heaviest I’ve ever been. You might think of this as childish or wasteful. Ya, maybe. I would text my niece each time I left for the feeding trough. Then I would text her everything I ate. “Three pieces of French toast, bacon, biscuits, bagel, cream cheese, eggs, chocolate milk, oatmeal, fruit, cereal, more chocolate milk.” Two hours later: “Rice, black dal, grilled chicken, burger, rice and beans, quesadilla, pasta.” I was possessed. Some of my fellow buffet warriors were full-on pros. Their girth a problem for the furniture. I would sit with random people who would stare at my food piles in awe. “Man, you got that MacGyver vibe going on,” one guy said to me as I tipped my plate to slide an entire charred animal into my mouth as quickly as possible. “Thanks, man,” I said. “I loved that show.” “And MacGruber is even better.” I worked out and ran each day, but that did almost nothing in the face of the caloric onslaught.
You gotta cover the bases. Weddings. Unique little things. Are you looking for those one-offs? Ya, but they come second. Overall, horizontal and vertical, front row players, older folks who may not be there the next time around, the officiant, singles, and groups coming down the aisle. You know, a mental checklist. Accidents, people passing out, falling over from the heat, crying, those things that make the heart of the photojournalist sing are all part of the pie. But it’s my least favorite photographic part of the day. I like what’s being said. I like the emotion. I like the temporary nature.
I loathe group shots.
What does anyone do with these things? And yet we still take them. I would have tasked the wife with covering this base, but she didn’t bring a camera. Brilliant sun and deep shade. Smouldering heat. Changing conditions and herding cats. The little Godox comes to the rescue. Pop, pop, pop. When I have someone else hold the strobe, and I watch the output, I think “That can’t be doing much,” but it does. Crisp little white specs in the eyes and the fill of the shadows. Off-camera remote trigger and the flash in a variety of hands, helping me out.
Back on the bus. Mirrors touching mirrors, potholes, and roll-through stops. A manual transmission, no less. “Musica?” he asks, looking in my direction. “Si, claro,” I say. “Que tipo?” he asks. “Metal rapido,” I say. He smiles and puts on Mexican pop. A bus full of people in white, witnesses to a merger of sorts. Fans moving back and forth, reflections of the outside world upside down and fragmented. Light to dark. Beads of sweat roll down the back and into the pants. Just as it should be. They say the tropics do something to us, all of us. We cornrow our hair, puke in the taxi, and burn to a crisp. Like felons on a weekend pass. We do horrible things to ourselves and each other.
Be. Here. Now. Sounds easy. It is not. So, I’m here, but I’m also there. Somewhere out there. Turquoise to deep blue. Flying fish, dolphins, sea turtles, and more scamper out of the way of our giant fifteen-deck shadow. Tankers on the horizon line. The curvature of our home evident through the optics. Twenty knots, calm seas. Deep blue to light blue to brown to chocolate Galveston gumbo. The debris field starts fifty nautical miles out. A strong squall arrives at 3 AM. I sit on the balcony of room 8274. Watching the cackle of electricity unleash itself on the unsuspecting creatures below. Like holding the prongs when plugging something in. A jolt you won’t forget.
Maybe that’s what’s missing. A jolt. Some use drugs, or booze, or sex, or a roll of the dice. Something to let you know you are still alive. Rope up, clip in, and back over the edge. Your life is in your hands. Might want to pay attention to this one. Maybe that’s what the camera does for me. Drop me in anywhere, at any time, for any THING and I’ll frame it up and make it come alive. At least for me. The frame provides purpose and a sanctuary from the noise. I’m a trespasser. Welcomed in from the outside world.
Comments 24
Heeeeeeee’s baaaack😉😉
Author
Yes sir.
haha Hate group shots – yes the worst…
Author
They are a specific skill, that’s for sure.
Daniel-san: great stuff – this and the post before it. Loved the part about gaining weight on the cruise ship. Your writing has a frenetic, Hunter S. Thompson-quality to it. These posts are often the highlight of my week – more please!
Author
I would be doing these ALL THE TIME if I could. But, they require me being in the field….
“The frame provides purpose and a sanctuary from the noise. I’m a trespasser. Welcomed in from the outside world.” Nothing like having a creative passion to escape into, far from the madding crowd.
Author
Yes, it’s a nice little place to go whenever you need it. Just there waiting…
I hired a corporate photographer I knew to do our wedding photos. I knew that he would be able to make my bossy family obey orders, and he did. We had a short shot list, the photos were done in my parents’ living room before the wedding- 3 group shots- his family, my family, and the 2 families combined, then 2-3 shots of us, colour and black and white. Done in 20 minutes, shots were great, moving on to the fun part of the day. We had lots of candid photos of the rest of the day from friends and family, and didn’t have to think about photos, rapidly devolving up-do hairstyle, or care that anyone lost their tie, corsage, boutonniere, or jacket. It was a simpler time, and the wedding industry hadn’t spun out of control. My parents said they would pay for a fancy wedding, or we could have a simpler wedding, and money for a down-payment for a house. An easy choice. We had a fantastic party, DJ, Mum made our cake from a picture in a magazine, held in a local rec centre, open bar, lots of dancing, decor by my husband’s co-workers, flowers arranged by my sisters, lots of kids, the joining of 2 families.
Author
Did you ever see The Deer Hunter? Your story reminds me of a much nicer version of that wedding. Small, real, simple, fun. The way it should be.
As many – loved the eating challenge part, it goes nicely with a deep ending. Cheers to the newly married couple! We’ll have out 10 year anniversary with my love next month. Time flies when you’re having fun 8)
Author
I’m feeling slightly sluggish now. I need to get back to the one sizable meal mode.
Mexican band Molotov, Chilean band Sinergia. Not exactly “metal rapido”, but enough to bounce and/or fire up some useful rage.
I appreciate your posts, Dan, and the time you’ve put into arranging those words which grab our eyeballs and magically appear in our brains. Thank you!
Author
These posts are the most enjoyable to write. No plan, just start remembering.
Love the story, reminds me of my good old days before I joined Kodak and met you. Glad I did. Daniel “Hunter S T” Milnor, for sure.
Author
Hey, I might be in Rochester later this summer. We have a new facility there, and I need to go and film. So many memories…
The first time I heard of Be. Here. Now. was in Pumping Iron. No, not the documentary, the actual book by Charles Gaines, which I sought out back in my heavy metal days – both lifting it, and listening to it – the early ’90s. No idea which second-hand Philly bookstore I found it in, but I did. Still have it. An interesting piece of early Arnold, early fitness genre, documentary journalism and photography. Still have it!
Author
Wow, never heard of that. Sounds interesting.
My 5-year old daughter has been flipping me the middle finger recently. I think she picked it up from some kids at school. I could see her at the other side of a busy park the other day and when I looked closer she was stood above the slide giving it to me. Of course, I have to pretend to be angry, but actually it’s quite funny.
Author
That makes me super happy. Truly.
I’m impressed that you can get that finger to stand up like that. I tried it and no go. Might have something to do with breaking both my wrists…at the same time…
Author
It took both hands….
I can’t believe you exposed me to MacGruber. I was blissfully unaware of it’s existence until now!
Author
My mission in life is complete.