I never wanted to be a photographer.

At 6 years old, I wanted to be a fireman. This dream was only reinforced, after I discovered the song “I Want To Be A Fireman,” on a classic Kid’s Songs VHS. My mom would take my younger brother Daniel and I, to The Fire House Museum in Cincinnati, OH. Two little boys, dreaming to be heroes. Not because it was admirable and cute, but because it’s what kids did.

Many childhood dreams, under the pressures of life’s realities, shatter into thin air like a bullet thru porcelain. I didn’t become a fireman, but I found something else.

My foray into photography and video production was a labor of love, but also an existential self defense mechanism. I was more scared of waking up one day and realizing I’ve wasted my life, doing something I hate, rather than failure.

I never wanted to be a photographer. I just I wanted to love my job.

While I was in New York, for fashion week in February. I shot the taping of a mob wives episode. Karen Gravano was having a private book release party. Anyway that episode finally aired. I love how they cut to a reaction shot where I kind of stare and fiddle with my camera and look bored for 2.87 seconds. It’s pretty awesome and hilarious at the same time.

The year was 1998, the boy band movement was sweeping the globe, and I was entering 7th grade. My hair gleamed with an orange tint, the result of the misconception, the magical spray in substance “Sun In,” could make your dark-brown-hair blonde. Nobody had digital cameras, no phone cameras, no facebook. The best way to take photos? A disposable film camera.

I met her in choir, she was as beautiful as her voice. When we started dating it was magic. Like drinking star dust from a disney cup, the thoughts and feelings for her exploded in my mind, leaving trails of sparks through the night sky. But like all young love, after 8 or so months, it was gone. Nothing left, except the sweet scent of Clinique Happy, that will forever remind me of her. I don’t even remember who broke up with who. But just to cover my bases, in the case she broke up with me, I would have said, “you made a big mistake you’ll never regret it. I’m going to be a famous photographer someday!” If I broke up with her back then, I would have said,”sorry, I just don’t see how we can work things out, given i’m on the 7th grade football team and you are a cheerleader. I mean…we ride the same bus to games. Things are getting too serious. We’ve got a championship to worry about.”

At this point you’re wondering where i’m going with this. Well, before digital camera technology, the visual traces of relationships were fleeting. They were glossy 4×6 prints, easily disposable via scissors, fire, or the good old fashioned shredding by hand. My relationship back then, was analog. No status changes, no endless photo tags on a timeline. Only small moments recorded on a glossy double print. You could fit a relationship into a shoebox.

Compare that to today, where anything and everything about relationships is out there. Hundreds even thousands of photos, tags, comments, and status updates. It’s never-ending. No longer are the traces fleeting, they are endless. With the advent of digital camera technology, our personal lives have become yearbooks, instead of small pieces of paper in a box. Is it good or bad? I’m not sure, but it’s something to think about. There is, however, one thing I know for sure. It’s easier to throw away a shoebox than to tackle the endless web called the internet.

Do you wish relationships were still analog (film based), or is digital better for keeping the love alive?

“Twenty five thousand mornings, give or take, is all we humans get. We spend them on treadmills, we spend them in traffic. And if we get lucky. Real lucky. It dawns on us to go spend them in a world where a simple sunrise can be magic. Twenty five thousand mornings” (Pure Michigan).

I find myself wanting to write less about technical knowledge, relating to photography. More often, I have inclinations to share stories about my real life and my career.

A lot of you may know, I rarely sleep at night. It’s a quiet time to get work done, to think and really get things in perspective. So early this morning, I was sorting through the nearly 300,000 photographs, i’ve collected during my career. The point being, to pick the best of the best, for the launch of my new website. So I came across a photo and it reminded me of a story.

My friends and I went to Cancun, MX for Spring Break 2004, my senior year of high school. It was a lackluster trip, sketchy to say the least. But I remember one particular morning, while the girls were setting up their chairs for the day, I took a walk on the beach. I ventured an hour one way, as far as I could possibly go, then walked back. Upon my return, it was noon, and one of the girls said rather curiously “what were you doing?” She frowned as if I had just ripped the legs off a frog and ate it alive. “I went for a walk on the beach” I responded. She then asked “Why?” I rebutted, “Because it’s beautiful.” Her next words are golden in my memory, burnt deep into my mind. “You’re weird.”

Looking back, I guess she was spot on. I was watching the sun move over the water, rather than taking watered down tequila shots. Totally weird right?  So I guess i’ve become the guy from “American Beauty,” videotaping the plastic bag fluttering in the wind. But I love what I do, and it rocks. So don’t fear weird.

A quote from one of my favorite films, “A River Runs Through It:”

“Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.”

Conceptual photography is visualization, understanding, and the execution of emotions using intuition. Images can never be technically perfect; however, perfection lies in the moment and its existential value. These true photos, lie in the understanding of  life, perceived  by many things. Often it is the words, or by watching and learning from loved ones, but I find, life experience in itself is the greatest teacher. If you were to take your favorite quote, and make it into a picture what would it look like?

Dedicated to those loved and lost, 2008-2012. JS

A few months ago in Chicago, I was shooting the exterior, of a new chic hotel. It was a crisp fall morning, unseasonably warm, and the Gold Coast was still waking up. After lining everything up, and getting my frame squared away, I realized a car or two needed to be moved outside the hotel. The first one I walked up to was a white van, with the words “Antique Archeology” on the side. Immediately I knew I was about to encounter two guys, whom I really enjoyed watching. If you don’t know, there is a show on the History Channel called “American Pickers.” It’s a great concept, and a fun adventure. One of the reasons I love the History Channel.

Sure enough, as looked to my left, I saw Mike Wolfe talking to his producer about 15 away, and Frank Fritz talking on his cell phone across the street. Similar to what you would expect, Mike was all smiles and Frank looked grumpy. Once Mike got done chatting, I approached him and gave him the “hey i’m a fan” routine. As you would expect, he was a super nice guy, even nicer in person, than on the show. We got to talking about the show and Mike’s journey from Iowa to the world of television. Mike told me, he had to present the idea to The History Channel 5 different times, before they game him a shot. Let’s recount that. Mike Wolfe, came up with the concept for his show, and had to meet and pitch the idea for “American Pickers” five different times before they gave him a a green light for the show. Can you imagine? The average person would have given up after the first time. After a second time? Even an ambitious dreamer, would have negativity creep in and think, maybe they’re right, it’s not a good idea for a show. But I was impressed.

Mike had an idea and he stuck with it. He didn’t let anyone stop him. Either he was going to get his shot, or they were going to have to drag him out the door. As I was talking to Mike, Frank came over, tired and hungry. So I asked if I could take a shot of them. After seeing my camera Mike said “a shot of us with you right?” I replied, i’d rather just take a photo of them. So I lined them up and snapped a shot. It was fun, they seemed rather surprised and intrigued that I just wanted a picture of them. But, i’ve never been about posing with celebrities. Part of my job is to be behind the scenes, what I see through my lens is proof enough, I was there. Mike said they were headed out to do some taping and I wished him luck. It was a quick meeting, but an inspiring one never-the-less. In my world, you never know who you are going to run into. And i’m always happy to report, when people are as genuine in person, as they are on camera.

I think often when we see successful people, or successful businesses, or in this case, successful shows, we think everything happened overnight. As if out of thin air, success falls into someone’s lap, and money rains from the sky. Worst of all, we let it get us down, because our perspective is so warped. Granted, nothing is guaranteed in life, but if you work hard enough, good things will happen. No one is going to put you on a stage in this world right away. Even if they did, you’d probably screw it up, because you wouldn’t have enough experience making mistakes. Ashlee Simpson and Saturday Night Live anyone? So keep practicing your skills, don’t give up, and be thankful for rejection. Rejection is the hammer, the red hot fire that tempers, forms, and sharpens your sword. The sword you will one day use to slay your insecurities, and conquer your goals.  So keep believing!

Until next time,

JS

One of the craziest memories, I recall during high school, occurred outside a photography class.

It was senior year, winter quarter, and a Friday. I was heading towards my favorite “bell”, photography. Ironically, at the time, I didn’t even consider it as a future career. I had just been admitted to college for film school. Photography was just a break to do something fun and exciting, during an otherwise horrible drag between calculus and physics.

As I turned the corridor to the room, something was amiss. It involved a girl in my class, who had shot a series of five incredible portraits of her boyfriend. They were dramatic combinations of color and black and white. I remember one of them specifically. It was a closeup of his piercing blue eyes, the skin around the eyes tinted black and white, so as to create impact. Some of her photos were ripped in half, dangling on the bulletin board by a thumbtack, only the top third remaining. One had been torn all the way off the wall, lying scuffed on the green carpet, with footprints all over from the class to class shuffle of students. The last photo, with the piercing blue eyes, was nowhere to be found. I was shocked. Who would vandalize this girl’s photographs? However, as I went into class it became clear, seeing as her head was down on her desk, with tears in her eyes. The couple had broken up. She herself was the vandal of her own work. As a young lad, I didn’t get it. It seemed drastic and destructive. My ignorant bliss obviously couldn’t comprehend why or how this happened.

So the question begs, at what point does someone destroy their own art, during a fit of emotion, or to erase the past? I wonder if some of the most beautiful works of art, never survived because they were destroyed over breakups? What if Da Vinci burned some of his most beautiful sketches, to forget the past, then used the recycled charcoal to start anew, and draw new works of art in his notebook?

The famous fashion and portrait photographer, Richard Avedon, once said:

“My portraits are more about me than they are about the people I photograph.”

When an artist destroys their own work, out of emotional dismay, or to banish the past, are they in fact destroying that piece of themselves? I often wonder if the girl regrets destroying the prints, rather than keeping them in a box under her bed. I guess i’ll never know. But maybe there is still one that survived, perhaps tucked away in a box, below a stack of essays in her parent’s basement. Its blue eyes piercing into the vacant space, waiting to be rediscovered.

This past Saturday evening, I took a cab to a photo assignment. As soon as I sat down,  a friendly voice greeted me, and asked where i’m headed. “The Metro Theatre,” I responded, as I went through my shot list, stored in my phone. As we turned the corner, he excitedly remarked “man…back in the 60’s, my band played at that theatre, we were called “Chubbs and the Twighlights. I was the drummer and the singer.” Curious, I looked up into the rear view mirror, and saw a friendly old grey haired man. There was a glitter in his eyes, a friendliness in his demeanor. Something i’ve never seen in a cabbie. He wasn’t talking on his bluetooth about lord knows what, and he grinned out the frosted windshield. It was as if he was heading off to collect on his winning lottery ticket. As he talked, I couldn’t help but notice a sign in his window, something i’d somehow missed.

It read:

“P.M.A, positive-mental-attitude. Life is what you make it. Not happy with your job, or your marriage, move or improve. Plan your goals and work your plan. It’s all about ATTITUDE.”

When I asked him about the sign, he called it his “School of Positive Mental Attitude.” Looking into Chubbs eyes in the rear view mirror, this guy wasn’t a student, he was a Dr. in P.M.A. Chubbs went on to describe how, if I ever needed a ride to the airport in the morning, he’d bring coffee and donuts free of charge. He even mentioned, that last week, one of his clients called to set up a proposal in Chubbs’ cab, so he could ask his girlfriend to marry him. Amazed and rather charmed, I marveled at his wisdom. Chubbs looked back at me in the mirror and remarked,
“to succeed, you have to set yourself apart. I love my job. It’s all about the P.M.A.”

Life is a never ending mystery to me, and as I get older, it gets more and more confusing. But I felt like this particular cab ride wasn’t an accident. Meeting Chubbs, the man who once played the great theatre, as the drummer and lead singer of “Chubbs and the Twightlights,” I felt like this cab ride was destiny. As I exited the cab, he smiled and said to me, “go get em!”

Thanks Chubbs, chances are i’ll never see you again, but you are the man!

If you’ve ever seen the movie “Willie Wonka & The Chocolate Factory,” you’ve heard of Slugworth, Willie’s infamous competitor always trying to steal his recipes. It seems everywhere I go, somebody’s watching me. Case in point, I found these photos of me, from a desert excursion. It appears someone wanted to see what equipment I was using, from what vantage point I was shooting, and how I managed to scale the bare rock faces, using only my bare hands. Now I feel sympathy for Kim Kardashian. Click photos to enlarge!

Me eyeing the paparazzi with angst.

Long distance stalking

Super long distance stalking (that's me in the bottom left corner)

This is what they were after. My "ever lasting gobstopper" of sorts.

Alright i’ll admit it. I called the paparazzi on myself! Good PR though, my agent made me do it!