Edgy, Flirty, L.A.

Photos: Luke wakes his Dad up from a nap, wears his sweet little toque, tries on his halloween costume, and visits with family at Thanksgiving dinner. Uncle Pete made Luke laugh out loud by standing him up in his lap and sitting him down again quickly, saying, "Standing up Stanley! Sitting down Stanley!". Even the Thiessens all say Luke looks like his Grampa Stan.

While doing an internship for Fresno Magazine I was assigned the task of photographing several different entrees from several different restaurants. I had no particular internship advisor since the magazine did not hire their own photographer, but subcontracted the work. So with no advice, no encouragement and no direction whatsoever, I set out to photograph my first subject: a mocha and a muffin from Starbucks.

I had my own camera, and the magazine sent me out with a light box to use as a backdrop. I confidently opened up the softbox and set my camera settings, got the beverage and muffin, and then struggled as the softbox stubbornly refused to be the shape it got it’s name from…a BOX. It wanted desperately to be a waffle, a wigwam or a wiffle ball. As I squirmed and jiggled, trying to keep my bare knees off the scorching pavement, head buried in the lightbox, bum in the air, sweat trickling into my eyes, mocha frapaccino rapidly melting, I began to wonder if the internship was worth it at all. What was I doing here struggling in the hot sun with equipment I had no idea how to use on an assignment I had no idea how to pull off?

I snapped several shots and couldn’t find anything wrong with them, but wasn’t really impressed with them either. I didn’t, however, blame myself. I dragged the stupid softbox back to the office hanging open and flapping against my legs. I blamed it and kicked it once or twice on purpose. I handed over my flashcard, slumped in a chair and waited for the verdict. It came surprisingly fast. “Oh no, no, no, no, no. What are these? This is not at all what we’re looking for. We want edgy, flirty, L.A. Not this backyard point and shoot.” I regretted the energy I put into getting those shots.

I was sweaty, tired, frustrated, a little insulted, but mostly I was flabbergasted. I was being told to use new equipment and attempt a new style of photography with my only directions being to make it more, “Edgy, flirty, L.A.”

The next day, after spending hours poring over food magazines, I braved food photography once again. This time I ditched the softbox and went with natural light in natural settings. The real food in the real restaurant, no stark white backdrops and no vague advice; I relied on my own eye for composition and my skill with the camera. My pictures weren’t exactly “Edgy, flirty, L.A.” but they were uniquely mine. I was very happy with my work, and so was the magazine. I was sent out on more and more food shoots and as I grew more confident I became more friendly with the restaurant staff and was consequently sent home with more and more samples of the food I was photographing. Skill led to confidence, which led to friendliness, which led to free gourmet dining.

Even though I’ve done a lot more cooking since Luke was born and Derek went to work full-time, I haven’t done much food photography. It’s pretty much all about Luke, now. Luke is not “L.A.” but he’s very flirty, and when I stand him in my lap facing me, he sits right on the “edge” of the table. Pictures of Luke are the best pictures I know how to take, and I never regret time spent with him at the end of my lens.