The Curse of Faulty Equipment... and the Patience of Paul Taylor

"We've got a problem."

I was standing in the lobby of the David H. Koch Theater in Lincoln Center, talking with John Tomlinson, Executive Director of the Paul Taylor Dance Company (PTDC). Director of Marketing Alan Olshan stood close by, looking concerned.

"I enlarged some images to 80 inches for posters from last week's shoot, and they're not sharp enough."

Uh-oh.

The shoot to which John was referring was the two day, ten dancer marathon recently documented in my blog, "When Life Gives You Lemons..." I ended that blog with a confident declaration about the quality of the final images.

Perhaps my boast was a bit premature.

The campaign will not be revealed for a month or two, so I cannot mention any specifics. I can say with confidence that it will be stunning, unlike anything seen before. The dancers are phenomenal, and the concept PTDC created is fun and unique. They produced a tremendous amount of exciting images for any print and media campaign they pursue.

But there's this little issue with the posters. You know, the big posters hanging all over Lincoln Center. The face of the campaign. Well, they're not sharp enough.

I had rented a special camera for the marathon shoot. The Nikon D3X is specifically designed for shooting large images, but it wasn't focusing properly. Let me reiterate- I rented a camera to solve the problem before it became a problem, and it was broken! So I turned to my trusty D3S, the very best camera on the market. It takes amazing photographs that look flawless, even if you blow them up to 60 inches.

Did they say they needed 80 inch posters?

We returned to Lincoln Center on Monday to reshoot two dancers, Michael Trusnovec and Amy Young. I rented the D3X again, and it was fully functional this time. We had a very successful shoot, and we parted ways, excited to see the results. The images would look stunning as 80 inch posters.

Whew!

I got home and ran straight to my studio. I couldn't wait to see the photos. I popped in the memory card, opened the file, and...

Nothing. No images. The memory card was corrupt.

I can't write about the rest of that evening; I don't have the skill to put a voice to the level of my frustration. I will say this though- I wasn't looking forward to the reaction from PTDC. I wrote an email promising my third-born child for one more chance to shoot these damn posters.

I hit "Send" and waited to hear the explosion on Grand Street. Ten minutes later my cell phone rang.

"Jordan, this is John Tomlinson. This isn't a call to strategize about the next step. This is just a call to calm you down. It's going to be fine."

Now I know why his dancers speak so glowingly about him. His calm absorbed my anxiety.

In the end I was able to retrieve some images, and we're hoping the memory card's service department can recover more.

We've scheduled one final shoot for next week. I'm going to bring three cameras, ten memory cards, two computers, four assistants and the CEO of Nikon.

Is that overkill?

Goodbye to a Friend- The Blog I Wish I Had Written Earlier

Two weeks ago, Geoff Legg, my friend and assistant, died tragically young. His behind-the-scenes photography has been featured in many of my blogs, most notably in a Valentine's Day Chinatown blog. I had always intended to write about him and his path to NYC. He loved the idea of being the subject of my blog and had anticipated it with great enthusiasm, but other priorities distracted me from writing it. So I now write this blog not for Geoff, but for his family and friends. They know they've lost a gentle and caring man, but they may not know that we've all lost a passionate and talented artist.

Geoff gave me the title for a blog about him-

From the High Country to the High Line

In Colorado, Geoff was kind of famous. He was known as a progressive thinker, and he dedicated his life to making the world a better place. He started the first "green" painting company in the world after studying for a year at the oldest renewable energy school in the country. He could build a wind turbine out of junk-yard parts. He dedicated himself to volunteering for non-profits, and he ran some of the biggest arts/crafts/music festivals in Western Colorado. He bought an old schoolhouse so he could start his own arts/music/organic farming school. On top of all of that, Geoff was an avid landscape photographer.

Geoff believed in positive change. When he moved to NYC and found it difficult to find like-minded people, he called me out of the blue and expressed an interest in my work. I invited him to join me on a Dancers Among Us shoot, and he photographed the process beautifully. The first blog featuring his photos, "Getting Kicked Out of the Plaza", went viral, which I don't believe is a coincidence. We hit it off immediately.

He joined me on many shoots after that, and he found great enjoyment documenting the process. I called him a "behind-the-scenes documentarian." The next time I saw him, he handed me a business card with that title under his name.

Geoff loved the creative artists we were photographing together. He was exposed to people who thrilled and inspired him, and he seemed to be having a blast. He saved a very special place in his heart for dancer AdeChike. Geoff had seen Ade compete on "So You Think You Can Dance?", and he was a bit star-struck at the opportunity to work with him.



Eventually I started putting Geoff in front of the camera as well. He appears in the background of several Dancers Among Us photos. The final time we worked together, I asked him to take a face full of iced coffee thrown by dancer Allison Jones. It was a spontaneous request, and he wholeheartedly agreed without hesitation. Ten minutes after we got this shot, Geoff gave me a coffee-soaked bear hug and walked through the subway doors. I never saw him again.



I always found comfort in his presence. His passion for photography mirrored my own. Though his love was landscape and art photography, he had an uncanny ability to capture candid moments as well. Without any time to prepare, he was able to record my shock as I asked Ade, "So, can you jump?" This is my favorite photograph of me working, and he knew it.



Even a very static process like shooting headshots looked interesting when seen through Geoff's lens.



Having lost my mother earlier this year, and now my friend, I'm struck by the sudden finality of death. Shared experiences I had casually anticipated will never be realized. Relationships are left frozen in time, with no opportunity for a deeper connection. I am more saddened by the loss of future possibilities than I am by memories of the past.

As I look again at his photography, I am reminded of Geoff's great potential. These are a few of his favorite photographs. Each of them could easily be sold in a gallery, and the world could celebrate an artist whose images mirrored the man himself- thoughtful, unpretentious and beautiful.








I'd like to end with a stunning self-portrait taken by Geoff in Colorado.




Goodbye, Geoff. I miss you already.



To see more of Geoff's work, you can visit his website, leggacyphotos.com.

The Clothes Don't Make The Man... Right?

On Friday night I photographed a classic New York City wedding in Flushing, Queens. The bride and groom were passionate...





And ecstatic...





And gracious...





There was a Jewish ceremony and a Korean ceremony...





And the guests partied so hard they collapsed.





So given the significance and formality of the event, why in the world was I wearing this?

Photograph by Ryan Carville

Because until Friday afternoon, there was no wedding scheduled for that evening.

Brian and Lisa Hong contracted me several months ago to photograph their wedding on Saturday night, at the Chelsea Piers. But there was this little storm called Hurricane Irene chugging up the coast, scheduled to hit Manhattan right around the time of the first dance. On Friday afternoon Governor Cuomo shut down the Piers (has he no sense of romance?), and the Hongs were forced to scramble.

The rehearsal dinner became their wedding. My assistant, Ryan Carville, was scheduled to shoot the rehearsal, but they wanted me there as well. At 1:30pm, I received an urgent phone call from Brian.

"Can you please come tonight? Anything you can do!"

"Brian, I would love to but I'm completely booked with shoots already tonight. And I'm wearing shorts and a silly hat. And I only have one camera and lens. I'm so sorry."

"I'll call you back in 15 minutes." Click.

Five minutes later the phone rang. It was Lisa.

"I don't care when you arrive or what you're wearing. Bring a Polaroid camera if you have to. Just please be there."

Brian knew how to play me. I can't say no to a desperate bride.

I had a blast. The event's spontaneity gave it a whimsical and relaxed feeling that is unusual for a big city wedding. And excluding nudist ceremonies, I was probably the most under dressed wedding photographer in history.

After the wedding, Brian and Lisa did what everyone else was doing Friday night. They shopped for provisions.

Surrendering to the Storm- The Lesson I Learned from Hurricane Irene

My home is surrounded by trees. Big ones. The kind of trees that squash cars and houses. As Armageddon approached, I watched these trees surrendering to Hurricane Irene, swaying violently in the unrelenting winds. There was a frightening blue glow in the early morning sky. I was powerless against nature's whims.

News coverage of disasters always focuses on the storm's aftereffects. I find it much more terrifying to look up, before any devastation has occurred, and see the potential.




Two days earlier, my daughter stood under these same trees, playing in their protective shade.





As the storm arrived and my fear continued to grow, I thought of my children, tucked safely away down south. I was alone to face this devastating force, but the image of my daughter finding protection under the trees reassured me. Impending disaster can be a source of reflection, and I found myself looking for a greater lesson.

Nature has given us what we have, yet it can take it all away in an instant. What protects us one minute can devastate us without warning. Since nothing in life is predictable, we try desperately to maintain control over everything. The more firmly we squeeze the reins, the more we realize the futility of trying.

As I came to this realization, with the wind screaming and the rain pouring down, I felt suddenly calm. I let go of my absurd attempt to exert control over the uncontrollable, and I saw the beauty around me. Taking my cue from the trees, I surrendered to the inevitable. The magnificence of nature and the power of the earth both humbled and excited me.

I hope I will remember this lesson as I encounter less dramatic, yet equally uncontrollable events in my life. There are great rewards awaiting those of us who dare to let go of the reins and to see where the horse leads us.

When Life Gives You Lemons... My Adventures with the Paul Taylor Dance Company

I spent the weekend at Lincoln Center, photographing some of the greatest dancers in the world. It caused quite a commotion.

Two young ladies with painted eyes tentatively approached dancer Eran Bugge during one of our rare two-minute breaks.

"Excuse me, what company do you dance for?"

"Paul Taylor."

"Really? Paul Taylor? OH MY GOD! Really??? Agggghhhhh!! Really?? PAUL TAYLOR?!"

It was that kind of weekend. I was cool by association.

Photograph by Samantha Siegel

Over the course of eighteen hours, I photographed ten dancers in seventeen different locations. I had a total of one sandwich, six venti mocha lattes and twelve minutes of break. Every shot was a spontaneous decision. There were three photographers and one videographer recording the action. At any moment, there were at least ten people waiting for me to decide what to do.

Photograph by Sean Patrick Mahoney

Photograph by Francisco Graciano

Photograph by Francisco Graciano

Photograph by Samantha Siegel

I was running out of ideas. How many different ways can I photograph dancers in Lincoln Center? We had two shots left. Dusk was quickly approaching. Magic hour! I had been waiting for a beautiful sunset all day.

The skies suddenly darkened and rain poured down in buckets. No sunset. Everyone scurried to safety, the shoot interrupted at a critical moment. Two beautiful dancers were waiting in costume, with the final vestiges of light quickly fading away.

I remembered the expression, When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

I looked at Parisa Khobdeh, who is one of the most creative and gutsy dancers I've ever worked with. I asked the question, though I already knew the answer.

"Will you dance in the rain?"

She didn't hesitate. "Let's go."

We all ran into the downpour. I found a light source and asked her to stand in the spotlight.

"Now throw yourself back and kick your leg up to the sky. Again. Again. Again. Again!"

I heard voices around me-

"She's going to be freezing."

"Have a towel ready as soon as we stop. And something hot to drink."

"She keeps falling down."

"Her leg is cramping."

"PARISA, ARE YOU OKAY?" someone screamed.

She didn't hear it. Or she didn't care. She stopped for a brief second, and then threw her body back again. And again. And again.

Parisa catching her breath

When we finally stopped, Parisa was the last one out of the rain. She was drenched. And exhausted. And beaming.

We were all safely tucked away under the City Opera overhang. Everyone was feeling relieved, but I wanted more. It was still pouring. Masses of people were arriving for a Friday night at the theater. The famous Lincoln Center fountain was illuminated and exploding.

I turned to Francisco Graciano. "Do you have bright tights? Time to get wet."

Francisco getting ready to jump

I've promised the folks at PTDC that I won't release any photos before they have a chance to see them first, so I can't share the final images we created that magical evening.

But I can say this- last Thursday I posted a blog about this upcoming shoot. I set my expectations very high, and I was worried I wouldn't meet them. I wrote, "It is my responsibility alone to create photographs worthy of the company's immense talent and reputation."

I'm not worried anymore.

Dancers Among Us Faces Its Greatest Challenge

Tomorrow and Saturday I will be photographing the Paul Taylor Dance Company at Lincoln Center. The purpose is to illustrate their move to the David H. Koch Theater for their upcoming New York season. The images we will create are inspired by Dancers Among Us. Since many of the company members were the first dancers photographed for the series two years ago, this is truly a full circle assignment. And a huge one.

Paul Taylor is certainly one of the world's greatest living choreographers, so it is a distinct honor and unique opportunity to collaborate with his company. This is a very high stakes assignment that requires thoughtful preparation, yet my shooting style is spontaneous. I rarely scout locations, and I rely on my ability to improvise in the moment. Yet with ten dancers utilizing dozens of locations and costumes, with photographers and videographers recording behind-the-scenes footage, and with widespread rain in the forecast, my off-the-cuff approach is about to be tested like never before. To be safe, I've immersed myself in pre-production, creating a long shot list and researching each dancer's strengths. Right?

Not exactly. I stopped by Lincoln Center one evening and took a few iPhone photos. Does that count as pre-production?




As we used to say in my baseball days, "Dance with the one that brung you." The success I've received with Dancers Among Us is due to the spontaneous nature of the photographs, and to abandon that now would be undermining what makes the work unique.

I must admit, I have no idea what will happen. That makes me nervous. And excited. Great risk can yield great rewards, but that's not a guarantee. Everyone at Paul Taylor has been incredibly supportive of my process, but it is a huge risk for them as well. I enter the shoot with that weight on my shoulders. It is my responsibility alone to create photographs worthy of the company's immense talent and reputation.

As everyone gathers around me on Friday, waiting for instructions, I will focus on the environment around us, looking for inspiration. Will I find it?

My Rendezvous With San Francisco's Loveliest Ladies

"I have to shoot the Golden Gate Bridge today! I'm leaving soon and I might not have another chance. Right?"

I was talking to Stephen Lee, my San Francisco assistant and protegee, as we drove into the city. I had four dancers headed towards the bridge. We were ready to attempt an iconic Dancers Among Us image, but I had an uneasy feeling that it was the wrong decision. It was certainly the obvious choice, but at the last minute I called an audible.

"Let's go to the Painted Ladies instead."

I have no idea why I did that, but I've learned to trust my instincts. I had heard of the Painted Ladies, but I knew nothing about them. Somehow I was being pulled there. Perhaps the photography gods were sending me a message.

As Stephen drove, I Googled "Painted Ladies": "A row of Victorian houses at 710–720 Steiner Street, across from Alamo Square Park, in San Francisco. It is sometimes known as 'Postcard Row'... The most famous row of houses in San Francisco."

We arrived as the sun broke through the clouds. I saw the tourists before I saw the Ladies.

Behind the scenes photos by Samantha Siegel

As I looked through my camera, I understood the appeal. A row of brightly painted antique Victorians framed by the modern San Francisco skyline. There was definitely potential here. But what would the dancer be doing? Kaitlin Ebert arrived in a pink dress, excited and ready to jump! All I needed was a scenario.

Alamo Square provided the answer. A man was playing fetch with his dog, and he was using one of those cool tennis ball throwing devices. He introduced himself as George and agreed to lend me both the thrower and the dog. Kaitlin jumped high in the air, looking as joyful as possible.



She nailed it! So did the dog. And so did the weather (blue skies can be an uncommon sight in San Francisco). I got my Painted Ladies shot. I guess that's what the photography gods had in mind.

Or maybe not.

As we were leaving, George casually mentioned that he lives in the blue Painted Lady. I stopped in my tracks.

"Can we take a photo at your home?" I asked apprehensively.

"Sure."

Access to one of the city's most famous houses should not be approached casually. We all scoped out the facade, looking for the perfect shot.

"Can she pose on that top balcony?" I asked George. Once I assured him he wouldn't be liable if she injured herself, he was happy to accommodate us.

But what could she be doing? Why is she up there?

"What if I'm kicking my boyfriend out of the house and throwing his clothes at him?" Kaitlin suggested.

Amazing idea. Just perfect.

I turned to dancer Brendan Barthel. "You can do a nice back bend, right?"



"Beautiful! Here's the idea- the clothes are about to hit your face, and you're bracing for impact. Of course, you have to be naked as well." He stripped down to his underwear and socks, and gave the tourists a nice show.



Kaitlin threw on a slip, grabbed a bunch of clothes and headed upstairs. It turned out to be a very difficult shot to get. Initially I had the wrong angle.



When I moved my position the shot looked better, but the clothes kept falling too far apart.



It was also missing an element of humor- something to bring it all together. Someone should be in the window, filling that empty space. But who would be there? Another woman maybe? Too obvious. A child? No, that's not funny at all. Or...

"George, can we borrow your dog again? Can you get him to look out the window?"



Unbelievable. Now if only he would look over at Brendan, just when the clothes are in mid-flight, while both dancers are hitting their poses perfectly and Brendan has a funny expression on his face.

We kept trying. The dog was getting antsy, and he kept disappearing behind the curtain. Then he poked his head out and looked right at Brendan. I screamed, "NOW!" I took four photos and he disappeared for good. We were done.

I looked at the photos, holding my breath...



I screamed in joy and ran around in circles! George and I celebrated together.



Thank you photography gods. I'll never doubt you.


Postscript- If you haven't already, you HAVE TO click the final Dancers Among Us photo to see it larger. Check out Brendan and Kaitlin's fantastic acting- Broadway is waiting! And thank you to everyone behind the scenes for making the shot possible- photographer Samantha Siegel (pictured on the sidewalk), assistant Stephen Lee, the irreplaceable Dudley Flores, and George, of course.