No Words

My name is Rob, and I don't like writing when I have no inspiration. But, sometimes, I do it anyway.

Last weekend I made a trip to Florence, AL to watch a friend of mine belly dance at the North Alabama Renaissance Faire.

I thought to myself on several occasions This is gonna make an excellent blog post!

Upon editing all the photos and distributing them all over Facebook, I sat down to write about my experience. I couldn't come up with anything interesting. There was no story to tell.

Sure, there was fun to be had, and I had all of it. I drank some tasty home-made root beer, and browsed all the wares on display, and watched a belly dance performance (which I had never done before), and watched a pig do tricks, and gawked at all the folks dressed up, and watched some people fighting with actual swords, and all kinds of other stuff.

The thing is, I can't tell you about it. Well, I mean, I just did, but not in any useful sort of manner.

There are no words.

And, that's ok.

You know what I do have?

Pictures.

Photos capture things there are no words for. Emotions. Mood. Movement. Atmosphere. Soul.

A lot of times I'm out playing with my camera, I'm doing it for me, even if I'm photographing an event with the intent of gaining exposure for myself. I'm trying to capture something that can take me some place, whether it be a memory of what I saw or felt, or some place I've completely made up.

As I've been sitting here mashing buttons on my laptop, deleting letters and re-writing words, I've come to a conclusion - the reason I don't have a story to tell.

That day, I wasn't doing it for me. My express purpose was to capture memories for other people - to let them go back to that moment and feel what they felt then, or to let other people experience what happened that afternoon without having been there.

I think I've done just that. There have been more clicks on that particular album than anything else I've ever posted(by more than 30 fold).

I've gotta tell ya. It feels good, man.

Left Behind

My name is Rob, and I'm a quitter. A little less than a year ago I was working my ass off. There was my day job, which took up 50 hours of my time per week. Then there were the two different websites I was shooting for which took up 3 nights a week and at least one day of my weekend.

Both of the websites I shot for were looking for people to play photographer on the weekend, not actual photographers. This was about perfect, because I was under the impression that I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew that I liked photographing things, and some people were dumb enough to pay me for it.

I was having all kinds of fun shooting sports, and events around town. So much fun, in fact, that I had really considered trying to get into photography as a career. My friends and family, being the encouraging bunch that they are, seemed to think I could probably even pull it off given the right circumstances.

It would turn out, the right circumstances were right around the corner.

One day at work, I was browsing Craigslist lusting after new(old) gear and seeing what kind of photography gigs were to be had around Huntsville when I ran across an ad from this company called 'Google'. The ad mentioned the position of Google Trusted Independent Photographer. The idea was that Google was going to take StreetView indoors and create virtual tours of small businesses.

*** SCAM ***

That was the first thing than ran through my head. Then I thought about the two websites I was currently working with, and that I found them both on Craigslist. I decided to apply thinking, surely, I'd get turned down. If it turned out to be on the level, this was pro level shit, and I was just a putz with a fancy camera.

It turned out to be on the level, and I wasn't just some putz with a fancy camera. After the phone interview went surprisingly well, and finding out a little more about the program I had a real decision to make.

I'd need nearly $2000 in new equipment, and I'd need to start a business, and I'd need to find 30 hours a week to dedicate to this program.

I bandied about for a few weeks, trying to determine whether or not this was a jump I was willing to make. I talked to everyone I could think to - my friends, my parents, co-workers, bag-boys at the grocery store, you name it. I needed all the information I could gather from anyone who was willing to voice it.

A decision was made. After I secured a loan from The National Bank of Rob's Parents, I called my contact at Google and told her I was ready to make the leap.

There was a bit of training to get under my belt, as well as new gear to buy, and paperwork to figure out to start my own business. By shortly after Christmas, I was ready.

By mid-January, I was on my own. I had my three test shoots on the books. I'd made the big time - professional photographer and business owner. Or so I thought.

I was having a rough time closing sales. There were lots of folks interested in the project, and what it could do for them. What they weren't interested in, was forking over several hundred dollars to make it happen.

I never fancied myself a salesman. There were obviously some illusions of grandeur that this whole Google Business Photos thing would just sort of sell itself.  I figured Huntsville being the tech-y town that it is would jump all over this sort of thing once I, and the other photographers town, got the name out. I poured over sales tactics. I became an ambassador for the chamber of commerce. I did everything I could think of to get this project off the ground.

Huntsville wasn't ready. It still isn't.

I busted my balls for nearly nine months to secure a whopping 9 shoots - just enough to keep my certification current, but not nearly enough to make a living doing it.

Come July or August, I wasn't ready to give up, but I was actively exploring other avenues to make a living using my picture maker. I thought about trying to get into real estate using my newly acquired panorama gear, and consequently dropped a boat load of money on software to allow me to closely replicate what I was doing with Google.

It was then Craigslist came to the rescue again. I found an opportunity to join a company doing architectural/real estate type work. Due to the stars aligning, or divine intervention, or finding my NPP, I landed the gig. With the lens I bought with the sole purpose of shooting concerts, my interest in architectural photography, and the clout that comes along with being certified by Google, I had all the tools necessary to make this new job happen.

My new found adventure with this company lets me travel all around the south-east taking pictures like this:

Since taking this new job, I've even sold some of my artsy-fartsy stuff to display in a local business, and started doing projects for a local magazine.

My day job as a parts guy is in the past, as is floundering, trying to make a living selling photos to business owners who are all too reluctant to put their feet in the water.

It's right about now -  2:40 on a Tuesday morning that I can say this;

Let me lay down the things that have gotten me this far, and leave them behind. The journey I'm about to embark upon will not be what I started with, but it will be something wonderful.

Safety Third

My name is Rob, and I refuse to be careful. I bought a new lens this weekend. The transaction was nothing exciting, but the guy that sold it to me said something to me as I was leaving that gave me pause for a second.

"Be careful."

I hadn't really noticed the trend before then, but it's certainly there.

Now, I understand people that care about me saying this sort of thing. it's as if they're saying if you could, please, try not to die before the next time I see you. That's not a completely unreasonable request.

I don't think he had much reason to say such a thing to me. I mean, sure, I was driving an hour and a half back to Huntsville, and driving is "dangerous". I suppose I could have died in a horrific accident on the way home. But, really, what are the odds? They're so insignificant, so minuscule, that I couldn't possibly be bothered to calculate them, much less let them into my conscious thought and distract me from whatever it was I thinking about on the way home.

It's not so much the saying that started me thinking, or even that people are concerned about my well being on a real or superficial level.

It's more about this: When did we as a society become so damn afraid of everything?

When I was a kid I got sprained ankles, and banged up elbows, and skinned knees on a regular basis. I'm sure I suffered more than one concussion playing hockey when I was young. The only time I was told to be careful was when I almost fell off the top of the monkey bars I was walking across, or I almost ate it when standing on the cross-bar of my bike riding down the road.

This was common. Expected, even. Those injuries were how you knew you did something stupid, and, maybe, to be careful next time you try it.

I know this rant is a little bit ridiculous. But seriously, stop being scared.  Stop being careful. Stop worrying about what could go wrong, and just go.

It's worth it.