A Tid-Bit About Me

As a wedding photographer I strive to focus all the attention on my clients and minimize how much I talk about myself. However I felt the need to write about myself ever since I saw what was next on the docket for one of my photographer groups, I decided that it was time to share about me. I still want my clients to know that it is "All About You" and to prove it you can stop reading now you can click here to see that it is about you.

If you did click on the link you would see my attempt at humor which I endeavor (and sometimes fail at) all the time.

So back to the reason for me writing about me. As I said I saw the topic for our next meeting which is going to be a photographer friend talking about his recent experiences taking pictures of some big time VIP's, and I thought to myself "big deal". Then I kept thinking (I know... and no, it didn't hurt) I grew up in the LA area and have my share of run in's with some VIP's that I could share. Even better is that a few of my run in's have to do with photography as well. Then I thought (still not hurting) that most of this happened a while back and not everyone will know who I am talking about. So I am including some visual aids that will show you who I am talking about. Some of you might have to go ask your parents or older siblings who these people are, but at least you have the assistance of an image (you know, in case they didn't drink their Ensure yet today).

"Run In #1"
When I first got started in the wedding photography industry I was working as an apprentice for a photographer in the San Fernando Valley (LA). I was very excited because I knew that he was hired on to shoot LIsa Whelchel's (visual aid #1) wedding who starred in "The Facts Of Life". (visual aid #2 below)

It was very cool. I got to hang out with Blair, Joe, Natalie, Tootie and yes... Mrs. Garrett. Before the day arrived I envisioned that Blair would admit that she didn't want to marry this guy, that once she met me she realized what a mistake that would be. That Joe would say, "forget Blair"! "I'm the one that really loves you". That Natalie and Tootie would be arguing about which one I should pick and finally Mrs. Garrett would come in and use her timely honest and sometimes inconvenient wisdom to settle the whole matter so we could all be friends again.

As you have probably guessed by now, that didn't happen. Instead I was subjugated to carry camera equipment, changing film, moving lights, holding reflectors and fluffing the brides dress.


"Run In #2"
Again, while I was slaving as an apprentice for this photographer, people at the weddings we were working would ask him to go take pictures at different events. He really had no interest in doing this but like any businessman he wouldn't say no if the price was right. Then again, being a professional wedding photographer, he didn't want to stoop down to my level to take pictures at some middle aged ladies birthday party either. That's where I come in.

The party was to take place on a week night at a night club on Rodeo Dr. in Beverly Hills. I lived about 30 miles away which meant it took about 30 minutes from my house driving the speed limit. But as everybody knows, you are rarely able to drive the speed limit in LA so it ended up taking more like 90 minutes which meant I was late. Because I was in a hurry I needed to find a close parking spot that I knew I wouldn't get a ticket at so I chose the closest parking garage.

Once there, the guest of honor told me that she would like a picture of every person that came through the door. It seemed easy enough and I was actually feeling good about my abilities to get some really artistic images of people entering through a doorway. Then it happened. Khrystyne Haje (visual aid #3)
from "Head Of The Class" (visual aid #4 below) came through the door and I almost dropped the camera that I didn't own.

It got even better when I found out that Albert Alexandre Louis Peirre Grimaldi (visual aid #6) was by her side. After some discussions with his body guards, I was able to take their picture. Once again I envisioned that this picture would end up on some global magazines cover and I myself would become famous. Once again I was subjugated to harsh and unfair criticism from the guy I worked for. He just didn't understand how much you shake when their is a 250lb uzi carrying guy standing next to you. Of course it's out of focus!

At 2:00 a.m. the party ended and I started to head back to my car reflecting on the night of creating doorway art and my near death experience with the body guards. As I approached the parking garage that I left my car in, I noticed a sign that said the garage closed at 11:00 p.m. I hastened my pace as I rounded the corner to where the gate was located and shook it vigorously to verify that the well paid attendant completed their nightly task of locking it. To my dismay, they had.

After expediently pondering my options, I realized that I needed to make a phone call and that all my spare change was being held hostage in what is now a prison for my car. So like anyone I didn't hesitate in making a collect call from a pay phone to the arbiter of ridicule to inquire about a way home. After a brief exchange about the lack of unconscious repose, he informed me that there was nothing he could do. Then after much deliberation I decided to phone my father. Again, after a brief exchange about his lack of unconscious repose, he also informed me that there was nothing he could do.

I realized that I was on my own in a strange posh land. Like a lone wolf in search for his prey, I began to investigate my surroundings for a solution. It didn't take long before I realized that there was a bank right across the street from the establishment of unlawful vehicle incarceration. I quickly sprang into action once I noticed that it had a 24 hour teller and housed a uniformed attendant that was stealthily maneuvering to allow the egress of vehicles out of the parking garage in that building.

I approached as a lost puppy would to an old lady with a hand out offering refuge and explained my situation. To my pleasure, she offered her modest temporary dwelling for my own repose and I accepted. The establishment of unlawful vehicle incarceration opened at four hours later. I thanked the nice uniformed attendant and moved my way across the street, retrieved my motorized personnel carrier, paid the custodian of unlawfully incarcerated vehicles and made my way home.

And that is the story of how I spent the night in a bank in Beverly Hills. (Did you notice how my writing improved after meeting the Prince?)


Well I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Oh, before I forget. Mr. Fancy Pants Photographer that is going to be speaking (if you are reading this), it was all in jest. I think it is totally cool that you had the opportunity to work with all those people.