I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m not a social person. You might have seen me in the flesh, in the field or perhaps you saw me present, give a workshop, teach a class. That’s not really me. That’s a version of me I bring out when needed. In case of emergency break standard Dan and replace with social Dan. When I meet people I’m typically friendly, and most of the time I like most of the people I meet, but inwardly I might be screaming to get away from you. It’s not you. It’s me. I cherish silence and seclusion more than anything in life, even when I’m shooting. I might be in the middle of a social event but I’m not REALLY there. I’m in my head with myself and my “other” self that invades my brain. The watcher. The thing that allows me to have the secondary conversation running all the time. Last night I picked up an admirer who I saw coming a mile away. The too strong eye contact, the path swerving RIGHT at me from an awkward ninety-degree change of course and I knew I was doomed. Standing there, in the corner, minding my own business, counting the minutes before I could get back out into traffic and do battle. Drinking my water and reading a horrible little brochure of some sort. And there she was. “You aren’t going to Venice are you?” she asked. “What would happen if I pull the fire alarm?” I thought. “Do you have a card?” she inquired. “Nope, sorry, don’t have any cause I’m ALL ABOUT social media.”
“I know,” I thought. “I’ll go shoot reflections.” The perfect way to pass the time. One quick pass around the room trying to find my wife who would later say, “You don’t wear a wedding ring, you deserved it.” I shoot, one, two, three, ten. Color, light, movement. These reflection shots are gateway drugs, into the soul-crushing hard stuff of HDR and pixel-by-pixel manipulation of baby eyes. Once I go down this path I won’t be worth talking to anyway.
I got out just in time.