Post Photo Shoot Evaluation

I recently completed a photo job for a local company and was noticeably rusty. To aid future projects I have compiled a list of things I must improve upon. Lots of these were newbie mistakes that were entirely obvious, but them's the breaks.

1. Use precise language. I was halfway through my shoot with the first subject when I realized I had been telling him to "look at me," rather than "at the lens." His stare wandered and I nearly bungled the captures -- I must never underestimate the importance of precise language, or a subject's willingness to do exactly what I say.

2. Make time to prepare a setup suitable for ALL SUBJECTS. One subject had a physical defect I could have hidden with different posing -- posing that would have worked just as well for the other subjects. In my haste I overlooked this defect, completed the shoot, and called it a day. I must pay attention to every detail from now on.

3. Know what clothing choices look good! I got a few question about dress -- should I button this, what about tie colors? I had answers, but there were times I sensed they thought I didn't know what I was talking about. That is the worst feeling of all, and in the future I will ensure I know exactly how the subject should dress.

4. Be in charge. I was commissioned to shoot three subjects, all of whom were very busy. It was difficult controlling them initially, but when I apologized for being "bossy," one of the subjects just laughed and said "This is your show. It's your job to be bossy!" And that's when it hit me -- apologize less, and get what needs to be done, done. They set aside this time for ME to do MY JOB. And what do you know, once I got back into the swing of having some authority, the shoot went much smoother.

5. Pick the photos you like, then add the ones you didn't like as much. I have decent photo sense. As I worked through the sets I picked the ones I thought best represented the clients. After the finishing touches I sent them off and assumed that was that. Within an hour I received an e-mail with a few... comments. Nothing major -- one photo needed a distraction removed, in another the subject wasn't wearing the suit he liked, and one subject didn't like his choice of shots. The first was an easy fix. The other two were a little more difficult. I had photos of the client in his favorite suit, but I didn't think it was as good as the one I sent. Same for the other client -- I actually only had ONE additional photo of the subject, but thankfully he liked it (in the new one, he was smiling a BIT more). THE MORAL OF THE STORY: send the best, then send the rest that aren't junk. I am NOT always right.

And that's about it. The shoot lasted about an hour, setup and takedown included. It should be noted, however, that most of the problems from above were because I worked TOO fast. I don't think I'll be doing that in the future.

I used a very simple one-light setup in a neutral corner, which you can read about here. Since there was some uniformity required, I opted for the same setup for each formal shot, which caused the problems in #2.

So overall, not my best shoot. But the client was happy, I got paid, and I learned a lot. Sounds like a net positive experience to me.

Alabaster Coast

Seventy two hours ago I managed The Windsor Moth Key Shop in Van Nuys, CA. Now I stood overlooking the Alabaster Coasts of Normandy preparing for the funeral of a man who will not exist for two thousand years.

"Avez-vous terminé? Are you done?" asked Adrienne.

An updraft caught my stream and sprinkled a little urine onto my slacks. I winced not at the spill but at the urinary tract infection I had acquired somewhere between southern California and Ancient France. As the sea's greens and blues blended at the great curvature of the distant horizon, I toyed with my penis.

"Adrienne," I said, "You've already taken my kids, my wife. My bladder's on life support. Just give me a minute."

Cool air filled my lungs and I winced once more, but this time at the handgun Adrienne poked gingerly into the base of my skull. Zipping up I watched the waters crawl the sandy coastline as post-urination sting burned brightly in my crotch. I sighed, a little: "You're my least favorite sister."

"That's why I'm saving your life."

And then she fired.