A few weeks ago, I had the chance to test out a couple of Broncolor’s Scoro A4S packs. These pricey, high-speed,computer controlled flash units (about $28,000US for two packs and two heads) are unbeatable when it comes to short flash duration. It froze everything we shot as crisp and sharp as one could expect and, no, I’m not going to make any freezy jokes. As always, turning many of the images sideways and upside down made for the most interesting splash results. And I couldn’t resist throwing in (quite literally) some of the toy figures sitting around from recent jobs.

Lemon Drops

It was a fun day in the studio. Thanks to Steve Warren, my assistant, for the extra Canon 5D to shoot the behind the scenes video. And special thanks to Tim Hawkings at Cheeky Little Monkey for making it all happen.

D.A.

Drug store dolls from Rite Aid. Cheap. Sexy. Coy.

Last month I stopped waiting for phone calls. Instead, I approached a potential client from New Zealand with a concept for their publishing project. I presented images from my personal work (a good reason for throwing toys into water) along with a smartly written creative brief that clearly identified my approach. If I won this job it would be a labor of love: 19 photographs as chapter dividers for a series of 4 creative business books. Not a big fee, but a big return: A complete portfolio of interesting work that would be produced in about a week and paid for by the client.

Negotiation took a few days; there’s a 16-hour time-forward difference between NYC and New Zealand. And like moose and mice, the client responded to my emails while I slept. We negotiated a fee and copyrights and the job was on.

I had initiated an assignment.

This job was no walk in the park. Propping and modelmaking took five days and the two scheduled shoot days ended up being 16 hours long (plus another 26.5 hours of retouching). At 2PM, when we (we = me and my intern, Steve Warren, from the School of Visual Arts) had already been shooting for 5 hours, the client was just waking up, putting on his robe and slippers to view the work we posted for his approval while he ate his morning porridge. It was all done via email, and he was online as promised and giving feedback to move the job along. By the time we wrapped up each shoot day, it was 1AM, 5PM in NZ. Hard work, but a pleasure.

And here’s the best part. The client gave me full creative license, which could have been a disaster, but this client was a prince. He gave clear responses and never waffled. He knew exactly what he wanted and that was for me to do my best work.

Who could ask for anything more?

Did I make a profit? A little.

Did I have fun? Oh, yes.

And that portfolio? Just as soon as the books are printed, it goes up on my dawagner.com web site.

3:38PM, 4/1/2010 Three and a Half Mirrors and a Silver Card with String Beans on Set

Food photography is this totally different animal; it’s nothing like shooting products. Lighting for food is different. There’s a time limit when shooting food. You can’t leave food on set for three days waiting for someone to come back  from a long weekend to approve the shots. There’s a different passion on set when there’s food involved. It’s breaking bread with friends, but it’s a creative team. We’re designing food and when it all comes together, it’s a bit of magic.  And, no, I’m not gaining weight.

Even though I’ve been planning this for a while and doing my homework–studying the styles of food shooters and lighting techniques–there is a freshness and an excitement about working with chefs and food stylists that is totally different from other forms of commercial photography. There’s a sense of collaborative teamwork here, and an obsession that I can’t quite define, maybe only because I’m just beginning to explore this amazing new world of photographing (and eating) food.

Or maybe it’s just because I was hungry.

3:38PM, 4/1/2010 Three and a Half Mirrors and a Silver Card with String Beans on Set

Food photography is this totally different animal; it’s nothing like shooting products. Lighting for food is different. There’s a time limit when shooting food. You can’t leave food on set for three days waiting for someone to come back  from a long weekend to approve the shots. There’s a different passion on set when there’s food involved. It’s breaking bread with friends, but it’s a creative team. We’re designing food and when it all comes together, it’s a bit of magic.  And, no, I’m not gaining weight.

Even though I’ve been planning this for a while and doing my homework–studying the styles of food shooters and lighting techniques–there is a freshness and an excitement about working with chefs and food stylists that is totally different from other forms of commercial photography. There’s a sense of collaborative teamwork here, and an obsession that I can’t quite define, maybe only because I’m just beginning to explore this amazing new world of photographing (and eating) food.

Or maybe it’s just because I was hungry.

01/09/2010 - Akamaru Modern Ramen at Ippudo, NYC

I put an ad up on Craigslist in February for a food stylist and much to my surprise, there were responses from 2 chefs: Corey Earling, the third place runner up from Gordon Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen (season four) and Rob Endelman, a wonderful natural food chef and educator.

These responses plus responses from 5 other established food stylists and one dessert chef left me stunned. I never expected such great talent to respond to my posting.

This winter I started making my own udon and ramen at home. I’d been eating out regularly at Setagaya Ramen, Rai Rai Ken and Ippudo, each within a few blocks of each other, and each bowl of ramen is so very different in taste and appearance, it intrigued me. So it was bound to happen; this all started to migrate to my home cooking and somewhere along the way, I got the notion to shoot food and thus, the posting on Craigslist.

Everyone is so thrilled to be collaborating toward a vision and style that expands each of our individual books. I’m really looking forward to this new endeavor.

And I love the fact that digital food photography isn’t something that can be done with 3-D.

Onion Mirror

A vision evolving.

While in the process of this particular exploration I’m finding there is a lot of failure. Not failure in the sense of exposure or composition, but failure in concept and vision. And, there’s certainly no value in putting images into my book simply because I did it. Right now, I’m developing the concept of a dark series. The vision is evolving and this shot is more like what I need for the new series; it definitely feels like a sister image to the Steak photo that started it all, back in October.

Now the challenge is to find a thread that connects my next dark image to the first two.

Detail - Slipcase and Top of Book. Click on photo above to see the whole story.

The folks over at Legion Paper, the parent company of Moab, took a liking to my hand-made portfolio and featured it on the Moab Facebook Fan page. Made with Ballistics cloth, Rayon and Japanese hand made fabric, the portfolio pages were printed on Moab Lasal Matte 235.

And, as nice as the detail photos look, the inside of the book is much prettier, it has my photography in it.

Production Photo from Scissor Birds Portfolio Shot

The world of psychology was knocked upside down when, in 1979, Andy Meltzoff, tried something that had never been done: he stuck his tongue out at a 42 minute old baby. The baby, being a newborn, had no idea what a tongue was but somehow, through some deep inherited characteristic, she stuck her tongue out at Meltzoff in reply. (And where was it that I heard that newborn babies cannot see much?). According to developmental molecular biologist John Medina, in his book, “Brain Rules,” curiosity is one of the 12 principles he believes are necessary for surviving and thriving. Exploration is how how we learn to be creative. We do it by mimicking and testing the world around us. Monkey see, monkey do. And we do it literally from birth.

Little kids constantly test objects and boundaries to see what happens. Drop a cup of milk, throw a rock at a window, walk into a mud puddle when we’re told not to. It’s the way we learn. As we mature, we continue this process by taking on challenges, even risking life and limb, just to see what we can do or what will happen. In this particular case, it just comes down to soap and scissors.

During the early process of creating a portfolio of new work, I bought ten pounds of soap from Lush and some translucent Chinese takeout boxes, but this concept became something else when a half dozen hand-made scissors I bought the same day came into play. The soap was simply going to be an arrangement of pretty colors in the boxes but it didn’t work out and, in the end, we dropped the boxes. The images were not anything worth writing home about. Pedestrian at best.

Lush Soap arrangement

During the shoot, my 18 year old daughter, who assists me when home from college, had thrown the scissors into the takeout containers and held them in front of the light table we were working on. We both thought that scissors as birds was the right concept but a nest didn’t appear until she brought the box to the light table. Like John Medina’s two year son (see the John Medina blog link above), my 18 year old daughter delighted in her find, as did I. The shot came together quickly with a loose piece of twine I pulled from a drawer and frayed the edges of a bit. The end result was a remarkable, clever image that we had not planned on. Like music, two minds, working in concert – one song.

Scissorbirds

It’s no wonder, when we add art directors, stylists, retouchers, and editors to the creative mix our work becomes more than sum of its parts.

Creativity is an exploration that happens within us. Creativity shared is exponentially more rewarding and exciting.

Inside spread of D.A.Wagner's work from Freelance Portfolio Magazine

Yesterday afternoon, Greg Welch called me regarding a submission I made to his, about-to-be-launched, Freelance Portfolio Magazine, scheduled for December. He’d taken a look at the blog and felt there was something compelling about my comparisons of Mandelbrot’s fractals, NASA satellite imagery and my photographs of food. It struck a chord and we chatted a while about my past history with computers and special effects and, instead of my original submission, he asked to publish the images from the post. He mentioned that the launch was pushed up and he expected to put it up by today.

And he did. With my images included. I love the way it looks and Greg got me to thinking again about those visual relationships that somehow connect the very small to the very large. I spent most of my morning cruising through CERN, Fermilab and NASA, looking for more ways that that happens. Look for them in upcoming posts.

Thanks, Greg.

Grilled Steak on Stakes

Addendum – October 27, 2009 – Calumet Photo selected this image as a Photo of the Week. Nice start.

I built a patio over the summer with Vicki. With the help of Tim and a neighborhood kid, we moved the six thousand pounds of sand, gravel and pavers by hand that had been dropped on the front sidewalk by the delivery guys, to the garden about 50 feet away. Over the next 4 weeks the two of us tilled, excavated, leveled, filled the hole with gravel and sand and laid stones until we had a lovely, small patio in the middle of our (Vicki’s really) garden. No war stories. No injuries. A perfect execution by a couple of DIYers.

What’s this got to do with the photo?

It’s the nails, or stakes as they call ‘em, that were used to hold the stones in place. They’re huge. They’re more than twelve inches long and a quarter inch thick with a rough, galvanized finish on them and every time I drove a stake into the ground, they grew more beautiful and interesting. When we completed the project, I went out and purchased a dozen of the stakes and they sat in a red bucket on the floor of the hallway for weeks until the idea came: steaks on stakes. I yanked apart the palettes the pavers came on and let the large, four inch, wood blocks sit in the weather for a month. Now I had the stakes, the wood for a fire and an idea. The idea progressed along, during the move and while making phone calls and sending mailers, until it came to fruition last Thursday, when it all ended up in front of the camera. It came together quickly; it’s what happens when my neurotransmitters slam those molecules into their receptor sites and then I spend a few nights sleeping on the idea. My axons and dendrites get all excited, and then with a steak from Pedro the butcher (with the patience of a saint) at Los Paisanos around the corner, it all began.

Wood. Stakes. Steak. Fire. Boy, that was fun.

I have so much of my new work on white, it’s time to start a black series. This is number one.