A Balancing Act
Some years ago as I was dancing merrily along photographing figures in a landscape (gardens in particular) I was asked if I would like to try my hand at photographing a car.
This seemed to raise the bar so high for me. The idea of jumping over it was almost impossible. I was only hoping that I could limbo my way under it without anyone noticing.
It’s not that the car bothered me (it seemed like a giant still life) it was whether photographically I could make this huge mechanical object appear as if it belonged in the picture. Could I make a picture that would please me, and also parenthetically sell the car.
The only direction I received was that the agency and the client (BMW) wanted to play with perspective. They wanted this mammoth seven series machine to feel approachable and full of warmth and whimsy.
Well forget about approachable, I was still back at the starting gate with no idea what to do, and equally important for me, questioning whether this was something I wanted to do, and whether I could even do it.
But like all good capitalists, I needed to pay my mortgage, so I quickly said yes before I could convince myself to say no. I began the search for where I wanted to shoot this extravaganza. Luckily for me, the agency had informed me that they wanted to shoot one of the three ads in a garden.
After some scouting, I knew the one place that had the scale, correct proportion and permission that I needed to drive a car across the lawn. It was at an estate on Long Island where I had shot once before. I have since used this location on one or two other occasions.
I think at this point, it is important to regurgitate some things I have mentioned before. This picture was created before the digital revolution, but even if asked today I would approach this picture the same way I did then. What you see is what you get, everything is done in camera.
I do not like to retouch (except for small blemishes). There is no compositing of different pictures, expressions, skies, etc. This picture then and today would be approached the same way and shot on film.
I like (as mentioned before) to be in the picture; part of the experience. It must feel real as if it were all possible. The idea of having pictures retouched or composited, means to me that the photographer has changed his career and become an illustrator. I am not ready, nor would I suspect I ever will be ready to relinquish myself to that role. You can believe in me, and you can believe in what you see. It was all there when the picture was being shot.
Firstly, the producer and I met at the location and discussed my idea for the picture. It was going to be a balancing act between the car and the model with a long see-saw and fulcrum in the middle. It had to look like the car and model balanced each other.
We had to build a stage to the height of the see-saw and sod over it with grass, with the car some distance behind to make the scale seem appropriate. This was one complicated, expensive endeavor, but this was the nineties.
The morning of the shoot, 40 men appeared with machinery and built this Rube Goldberg confabulation in 3 hours and sodded over it with grass. We then got the car in position, finished the 3 hour detailing, placed A.J. in position and snap, snap. The picture as always took just minutes. The fears, the anxieties, the production took weeks.
In retrospect I like this picture and found it challenging to do something new. Since then I have photographed beds, wardrobes, etc., trying each time to find a way to fit the object into the environment, but perhaps more importantly to make a picture I like because in pleasing myself (I am a very harsh critic) I have found that I am able to please others as well.
