Nurse at Crawford W. Long
Hospital, Atlanta
(Now Emory University
Hospital Midtown)
Canon EOS 10D,
28-70 f2.8L lens
|
In 1972, I was hired as an intern/assistant/general dogsbody at a small, strictly non-Hollywood film production company. We made what were called in those days “industrial” movies (basically short films made to promote and/or sell a product) and also made many training filmstrips, mostly for the fast-food industry. (For the younger set, I should explain that a filmstrip is a series of photographs arranged in a story-telling sequence on a single strip of film and shown by means of a special projector.)
I had been involved with
photography since 1968, and was eagerly looking for a way to make a career out
of it.
My first out-of-the studio
assignment was to go along as a helper on a shoot for some audio-visual
training filmstrips for Arby’s Roast Beef. We went to a brand new store in
Pigeon Forge, Tennessee,
where everything was still sparkling new and clean.
As I said, my company was by no
means a large operation. Usually, a two-man team was sent out on jobs like
this: a director, who was also in many cases the script writer, and a
photographer. I was just along to help out and to gain experience.
Our lighting setup for this kind
of work usually consisted of three 1000-watt daylight blue tungsten floodlight
bulbs in 18-inch reflectors which we called “scoops.” I was salivating with
anticipation, because this was finally my chance to learn all about lighting
ratios and exotic stuff like that.
We set up the lights at the work
area and the photographer moved them around a bit. He turned to the director
and said, “That look okay to you?” The director said, “Looks good to me. Shoot
it.”
And thereby I learned the most
valuable lesson I’ve ever learned about photography: photography is all about
how things look. If it looks good, it is good. Shoot it!
(And then rearrange a few things
and shoot it again. It may look even better.)
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