Shawn Gust
It worked out: I met up with Shawn Gust tonight in Los Angeles, and although I knew he’d be a cool guy, he was even cooler than I thought he’d be.
He was driving from Idaho down to San Diego, with his brother Thor and Thor’s 2½-year-old daughter, Leila. When they got out of their van, I immediately recognized them from this image.
So here’s what it’s like to have dinner with me: I’ll offer to pay for you and your traveling companions, you’ll say I don’t have to, I’ll insist, and two minutes later, I’ll see the sign on the wall that says cash only, and I’ll be like, “Um, so the dinner thing . . . actually, I’m not buying—I don’t have enough cash.” Jesus.
Dinner was Philippe’s: French-dipped sandwiches on paper plates, peanut shells on the floor, Corona for Shawn, Coke for me. We talked about their trip and then, of course, photography. What he’s working on, what he’s shot so far on the trip, people he’s met. We walked outside afterward, and on the way back to their van, we passed a security guard who was watching the parking lots for the restaurant. Shawn said the guy would make a good picture. We talked for a little, and then he said he was going to go ask the guard if he could make his portrait. I went along to watch, because it’s a well-established fact that I’m terrified of taking people’s pictures, and I wanted to see how someone who does it so well would work.
We walked up to the guard. Shawn said, “Hey, how’s it goin’?”
The guard said, “Fine.”
Shawn said, “I’m on a road trip from Idaho and I’m taking pictures of people I meet along the way, and I’m wondering if I could take your picture.”
The guy sat there, silent. Then he said, “Of the cars?”
“No,” Shawn said. “I can see cars anywhere. I just want to take a picture of you.”
Again, the guy sat there, with a look on his face like, “What the hell does this guy want with me?”
This is the point at which I would’ve started babbling, filling the silence, trying to defend myself, explain myself, blah blah blah. But Shawn just stood there and didn’t say a word. My mouth was hanging open.
Finally, the guard said, “Okay.”
“Okay,” Shawn said. “I’ll go get my camera.”
We walked back to the van, and Shawn got his equipment together. Again, this is when I would’ve been rushing, scrambling, feeling like, “Shit, I’d better hurry before this guy changes his mind.” But he took his time. He moved quickly, but he didn’t rush.
When we got back to the guy, Shawn introduced himself, and then he started setting up his camera. While he took a meter reading, he let me look through the lens. I’d never looked through a large-format camera before—such a different experience from a 35mm. The meter said he needed a two-second exposure, so he told the guy that he needed him to hold very still and to just do his best. On the first shot, when Shawn told him he was ready, the guy nodded for the entire two seconds. The second shot, Shawn waited for him to stop nodding, and then he exposed the image, and I can’t wait to see what it looks like.
He wanted to take my picture, too, and I obliged. We talked a little longer, and Thor and Leila caught crickets in the parking lot. Crickets in a parking lot in downtown L.A.? It was as if Idaho had come pouring out of that van with Shawn and Thor and Leila, and though Los Angeles is always beautiful and magical to me, it was even more so tonight.
My only regret was that S., who so wanted to meet Shawn, had a class to teach and couldn’t join us. He would’ve been thrilled to be there. And I would’ve wanted to see the picture Shawn would’ve made of him.
It was a remarkable night in so many ways, but most of all in this realization: As I watched Shawn talk to the guard, set up his camera, and take the picture, I was in awe. But when I got into my car and headed down Grand Avenue, back to USC, it hit me: I could do that. I don’t mean that I could be as good as Shawn is, or that I would interact with people in the same way (I couldn’t, even if I tried). But I could do that. I could approach strangers and take their pictures, and if I did it a lot, I think I could eventually do it well.
He was driving from Idaho down to San Diego, with his brother Thor and Thor’s 2½-year-old daughter, Leila. When they got out of their van, I immediately recognized them from this image.
Copyright © Shawn Gust
So here’s what it’s like to have dinner with me: I’ll offer to pay for you and your traveling companions, you’ll say I don’t have to, I’ll insist, and two minutes later, I’ll see the sign on the wall that says cash only, and I’ll be like, “Um, so the dinner thing . . . actually, I’m not buying—I don’t have enough cash.” Jesus.
Dinner was Philippe’s: French-dipped sandwiches on paper plates, peanut shells on the floor, Corona for Shawn, Coke for me. We talked about their trip and then, of course, photography. What he’s working on, what he’s shot so far on the trip, people he’s met. We walked outside afterward, and on the way back to their van, we passed a security guard who was watching the parking lots for the restaurant. Shawn said the guy would make a good picture. We talked for a little, and then he said he was going to go ask the guard if he could make his portrait. I went along to watch, because it’s a well-established fact that I’m terrified of taking people’s pictures, and I wanted to see how someone who does it so well would work.
We walked up to the guard. Shawn said, “Hey, how’s it goin’?”
The guard said, “Fine.”
Shawn said, “I’m on a road trip from Idaho and I’m taking pictures of people I meet along the way, and I’m wondering if I could take your picture.”
The guy sat there, silent. Then he said, “Of the cars?”
“No,” Shawn said. “I can see cars anywhere. I just want to take a picture of you.”
Again, the guy sat there, with a look on his face like, “What the hell does this guy want with me?”
This is the point at which I would’ve started babbling, filling the silence, trying to defend myself, explain myself, blah blah blah. But Shawn just stood there and didn’t say a word. My mouth was hanging open.
Finally, the guard said, “Okay.”
“Okay,” Shawn said. “I’ll go get my camera.”
We walked back to the van, and Shawn got his equipment together. Again, this is when I would’ve been rushing, scrambling, feeling like, “Shit, I’d better hurry before this guy changes his mind.” But he took his time. He moved quickly, but he didn’t rush.
When we got back to the guy, Shawn introduced himself, and then he started setting up his camera. While he took a meter reading, he let me look through the lens. I’d never looked through a large-format camera before—such a different experience from a 35mm. The meter said he needed a two-second exposure, so he told the guy that he needed him to hold very still and to just do his best. On the first shot, when Shawn told him he was ready, the guy nodded for the entire two seconds. The second shot, Shawn waited for him to stop nodding, and then he exposed the image, and I can’t wait to see what it looks like.
He wanted to take my picture, too, and I obliged. We talked a little longer, and Thor and Leila caught crickets in the parking lot. Crickets in a parking lot in downtown L.A.? It was as if Idaho had come pouring out of that van with Shawn and Thor and Leila, and though Los Angeles is always beautiful and magical to me, it was even more so tonight.
My only regret was that S., who so wanted to meet Shawn, had a class to teach and couldn’t join us. He would’ve been thrilled to be there. And I would’ve wanted to see the picture Shawn would’ve made of him.
It was a remarkable night in so many ways, but most of all in this realization: As I watched Shawn talk to the guard, set up his camera, and take the picture, I was in awe. But when I got into my car and headed down Grand Avenue, back to USC, it hit me: I could do that. I don’t mean that I could be as good as Shawn is, or that I would interact with people in the same way (I couldn’t, even if I tried). But I could do that. I could approach strangers and take their pictures, and if I did it a lot, I think I could eventually do it well.
Labels: Los Angeles, photographers, portraits, S., Shawn Gust
posted by Liz at 9:00 PM
8 Comments:
Sure you could do it. Liz, I think that if you are the shy type and want to approach strangers, it wouldn't hurt (other than your economy) to work with large format. It demands asking first, permission afterward and time for setting up. But this goes down well in most cases. It's when you are working with digital, or 35mm, or a medium format rangefinder, that you have the conflicting option of "not asking". For some photographers this works great, think of Garry Winogrand snapping away like mad, or William Klein or Martin Parr. But it takes their kind of stamina to approach people that way. To have the option of not asking permission and to be a bit shy is not a good combination: you end up avoiding permission, sometimes sneaking a pic but never close enough to the subject, etc. Better to not have that option in the first place and to save yourself that conflict: either you ask or you don't take pics of strangers. And the large format is perfect for this, since you cannot play Winogrand with it. Plus, the image quality, if you get to master it, is superb.
what a great scene. of course you can Liz, and i can't wait to see the results when you do.
man, wish i could have been there for beers with you and the Gust. one day...
Federico, there's definitely something about working with a large-format camera, which as you pointed out, requires you to get permission. I don't have a large-format camera, though, so for right now, I'm going to try to make it work with what I've got. I'll post the results here. Thanks for the encouragement!
Ben, totally. I wish you'd been there. We talked about you and your work, and that was another surreal thing: I'm sitting there talking with Shawn, whom I feel as if I know even though I met him online, and we're talking about people like Amy and Zoe and you, none of whom we've actually met in person. It's a strange feeling when you realize that you have friends you've never even met. I guess the definition of meet needs to change.
What about having a bloggers reunion? To meet the brilliant minds of all you artists and bloggers alike.... That would be one heck of an event.
I'm actually in the process of working on that, Anonymous. I don't know how brilliant we are, but you're right: It would be one heck of an event.
Very very cool, Liz.
Thanks, John.
yes; alot of us photographers employ this method.
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