A couple of weekends ago, I photographed some good friends of mine during their band's daytime performance in a backyard not far from Fordham's campus. It was a small event, so I was lucky enough to be very close to the band as they played through their set. I came prepared with a fresh new roll of black & white film loaded into my camera, and within an hour or so, I'd used all thirty-six frames. To my disappointment, though, I hardly liked any of the frames I'd captured when I had the roll scanned.
From an objective standpoint, most of the images were perfectly fine in that they were all reasonably in-focus, properly exposed, and showed a subject (or part of a subject) in motion. What frustrated me, though, was that very few of the images achieved what I set out to accomplish: capturing the emotion that's put into playing an instrument or performing for a crowd. All three members of Free Advertising are earnest, passionate musicians, but this passion wasn't appearing in many of my pictures and that infuriated me.
This failure, while disheartening at first, made me think of what it means to me to capture someone in their element. By this, I mean photographing someone as they perform a task they're personally dedicated to, one that they'd still be doing regardless of whether or not I was there with a camera. How do I, without manipulating a scene or having any sort of control over the gesture, expression, and placement of my subject, capture them in a way that translates their energy and passion to the viewer? Is it better to wait for, as Henri Cartier-Bresson would suggest, the decisive moment, or to capture as many images as possible and pick the best later, submitting to the fact that it is impossible to predict when the perfect, second-long gesture will occur?
Sadly, there aren't any stock answers to these questions, as they haunt and inspire every photographer in different ways. All I can offer you now, then, is my selects from this roll of film: three images that I feel captured at least some of each musician's energy as they performed.
This frame of the band's bassist, Gus, is probably my favorite one on the roll. For me, it captures the raw joy he gains from and channels back into the music. As he plays, he smiles, bites his upper lip, and bobs his head to the rhythm of the song's bass line, and this picture captures that emotion in a flattering, yet candid manner.
This close-up of the band's singer and guitarist, PJ, emphasizes the musician's hand as he strums and plucks. What's always stood out to me about the way PJ plays guitar is that he moves his fingers as little as possible to create the notes, instead of strumming forcefully and swinging his forearm as I've seen other guitarists do. This image's slight blur around PJ's fingers in contrast to the sharp, still form of his guitar captures this subtle quirk for me.
I've struggled to get a frame I liked of Free Advertising's drummer, Graeme, during a few of their shows, but I'm very pleased with this one. I used the band's drum kit and PJ's guitar to subframe Graeme's face, which is focused and deadpan as it typically is when he performs.