A Fist Full of Film

Airbender

So I’m on assignment on a project still in progress. I’m at the San Jose Airport and my layover is long enough where its annoying. I’m surrounded by the Silicon Vals, and thank goodness Bluetooth headsets are out of style, because it seemed the last time I was here everybody had one. I can only look at Shark and 49er swag for so long, and then I find yet another Hudson News(guys who own this must be super rich), and I get my overpriced water bottle, mint mentos, and whatever protein bar they have avail. I peruse the mag racks, and see which shots from which ever job ended up making the print, and how much retouching they did to so and so.

“Lame,” I mutter, looking at the cover with Somewhat It Girl. My eyes inevitably go to WIRED and the one magazine I have not worked for yet, and one of the only I subscribe to. My only carry on is my black Domke, and the only camera I packed was the Hasselblad. Its a good weight, having three backs, a prism, and two lenses. My shirt is a blue longsleeved, rolled up at the elbows, and I happen to be wearing khakis and aviator glasses. Ergo, I’m dressed exactly like the photojournalist in an international bazaar perhaps sipping on a espresso without the three day stubble, straight from Edith Head Wardrobe at Universal.

I head down the corridors of light and angle and look actively for something cool to take a photograph of. I’m reclined in one of those nicer airport chairs, and I see “Airbender,” pass through security. His bright orange robes illuminate as he enters the main gate area. He is set against a backdrop of marble and pickled wood, and a sea of travelers all dressed in muted greys and blacks. Aside from the rabid Miami Dolphins fan I saw earlier, Airbender is the only one wearing Orange here at this airport. Perhaps in all of San Jose.

So now I have a target. I stalk the Airbender back to the Hudson News. My Hassy is slung around my neck, and I’m using the 80mm for the 2.8 since I need all the light I can get in this interior. I curse a little bit under my breath since my b&w is the 400, and the color is the 160. Decisions. Good exposure and composition versus bad exposure and high potential for motion blur. F. Exposure it is and I load the black and white back, wishing I could color in the orange. As I type this, I hate myself a little bit. That orange. That blazing orange, His skin color, the marble, the architecture. Gew.

So he looks at the magazines with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. A forward lean, inquisitive, and with intent. Curious. His glasses reflecting the the beauty light of the magazine rack. ”That’s a pretty good shot,” I say to myself. Waist Level finder is now open and I’m visually checking range. The old 1st AC skills die hard. 17 and half feet. Need to close the gap. Slowly… slowly. He walks away. F.

He exits Hudson News after looking at some Teddy Bears with some kitchy crap shirts with stupid sayings. Perhaps he was investigating some kind new belief he didn’t have before that these Hallmark Bears brought to the table of enlightenment. Whatever it was it was inquisitive like Muscle and Fitness, and Lowrider, and Bride’s where to him. The prayer beads, the forward lean, the hands clasped behind his back, the glasses, all freaking perfect. Its like he also came out of Edith Head too. So you have these two guys walking randomly with purpose around San Jose airport.

I look at my watch. I have about 10 mins to get this shot and I have to be on the far side of the terminal. He walks over to the big board. I stand next to him. We two actors are staring at blinking cities, blinking arrival times, changing, adjusting, updating constantly. I stand about 15 feet away. Its killing me. The background he opens up in, is all clean, sterile, Gattica-like, Brave New World, and I can’t stand it anymore because he’s got old robes on that contrast greatly in style and color. I hate Black and White right now. Hate it.

The Hassy feels good in my hands, I’ve already measured. The Finder is open but I know my shot, I pivot on my heels, he looks up from his ticket and sees me.

“May I take your pho*click*tograph?” I ask as I already do it not even looking up.

He nods. I fire an extra one for courtesy. I didn’t need it. I didn’t need it at all, I used the Force and it was fitting to be in that moment like I believe him to be in the Present.

I bow in respect and thanks, probably look more like an Asian tourist than a galavanting photo journalist. But I’m stoked. Stoked as I am in Group C in a middle seat on overstuffed plane back to Burbank.

San Jose, CA

Hasselblad 500 C/M 80mm Zeiss Planar 2.8 Kodak Tmax 400

4 months ago 19 notes