Overexposure is so underrated.

                     Sinead O’Connor 1990                                                                                                                                                                      ©Deborah Feingold

Rolling Stone arranged for my flight to Montreal to photograph Sinead O’Connor.  I had worked with her before and knew that, contrary to her public persona, she was actually quite shy.

We arrived at her small, dimly lit hotel room, four heavy equipment cases in tow, late in the day.  As I was getting reacquainted with her, my assistant unpacked the cameras and lighting gear.  After a few minutes, he whispered into my ear that he needed to speak with me privately.

“There’s a small problem.  We can’t use the lighting equipment.  I left the power cords in NYC.”  At first I thought he was kidding, but quickly remembered that he was a humor-challenged kind of guy.  I had ten seconds to figure this out.  With my back to Sinead, I took a deep cleansing breath and on the exhale, turned around with a smile.  I asked her to to sit at the table in front of the window.  I put my camera onto my tripod, securing it for a very long over-exposed shot.

And that was that.

Miami reVise

 

Miami Vice  1985                                                                                                                                                                                                                                ©Deborah Feingold

Miami Vice was the first television crime series to cross over into overnight rock star status.  With its turquoise and pink palette, crazy car chases, oodles of cocaine and two Armani-clad detectives named James “Sonny” Crockett (played by Don Johnson) and Ricardo “Rico” Tubbs (played by Philip Michael Thomas), the series just exploded in popularity.  Critics raved about the soundtrack (Jan Hammer’s New Wavey instrumentals) as much as they did about the show.

RollingStone was the first publication to grab these two for a cover shoot.  And I was lucky enough to call this my first RollingStone cover.  The art direction was straightforward:  the two actors dressed in character, at sunset on the beach.  It was that simple.

The shoot was great fun.  Everyone was excited about being on the cover which made the assignment much easier.  We shot for two long days and then quickly traded the tropical weather of Miami for the frigid air of NYC.  I spent the night at the lab processing the film for next- day delivery to the magazine.  It had all gone down so smoothly and I was feeling very good about myself.  Until the phone rang.

In a low voice, the photo editor who had been on the shoot with us, said that Jann Wenner, Rollingstone’s co-founder and publisher, saw the cover images and he was not happy.  She went on to explain Wenner’s strong opposition to guns since the death of his close friend John Lennon.  That translated to no guns onRollingStone covers-ever, making my mages, as shot, unusable.

What happened next surprised everyone, but only if you consider the times.  Back in 1985, digital imaging as an industry standard was only in its infancy.  Photoshop would not exist in the vernacular for five more years.  Remove a wrinkle or two with airbrush, sure, but not much more.  More importantly, journalistic integrity was held in very high regard and you simply did not alter photographs.  When the issue appeared on the newsstands in March 1985 it was just two cool dudes on the beach, smiling at the camera.  The shoulder harness and pistol had been removed, without a trace, from Don Johnson’s shoulders.  It wasn’t until a few weeks later when word spread about the digital removal of the guns that my phone started ringing for interviews, which I politely declined.

It soon became very clear how big this small change really was.

Plan B

Barack Obama 2006                                                                                                                                                                             ©Deborah Feingold

Chicago Senator Barack Obama needed a portrait for the cover of his second book, The Audacity of Hope and I was the lucky one chosen for that assignment.  The art director’s only instruction was to shoot the Senator standing in front of the Chicago skyline.  Having just delivered his speech at the Democratic National Convention, I sensed that Senator Obama was already much larger than that city.  As much as my instincts took me in another direction, I went off in search of the perfect skyline.   After a day of scouting, we found a jetty that extended out into Lake Michigan and provided a panoramic view of the Chicago skyline.

The next day my assistant and I arrived at the jetty at 6 a.m. to set up for our scheduled 8 a.m. shoot.  Conditions were perfect; the skies were clear and the lake was calm.  We were ready to go within an hour.  8 a.m.  arrived but the Senator did not.  By 9:30 a.m. the Senator had still not appeared and those perfect weather conditions had completely disappeared.  Instead, as if Chicago herself knew I had not wanted to photograph her, she showed me who was boss by lifting up my light stand and blowing it into the lake.  Laying down on the slime-covered rocks, belly-fishing for my equipment, I heard someone from above quietly say, “Can I help you with something?”  I turned and found myself looking up at the future president of the United States, who was gazing down at me with an amused and sympathetic grin.

Did I die from embarrassment?  Did I scold him for being late?  Did I blame everything on my assistant?   No.  I suggested we go to my hotel room, which was directly across the street.  I wasn’t being risqué–I was being professional.

From the beginning, I knew this shoot was about a man and not a  location, but I also knew that I had an obligation to my client and his concept.  Still, that hadn’t prevented me from coming up with a Plan B while anxiously lying in my hotel bed the night before the shoot.  I ended up turning a sleepless night into something much more useful; a mini photo studio right next to a mini bar.

Swish to Swash

Johnny Depp 1987                                                                                                                                                                                                            ©Deborah Feingold

Seventeen magazine called the shots for this session as Johnny Depp was high-vaulting his way to superstardom in the new  TV series 21 Jump Street.  Johnny arrived at my Soho studio on time and after much gushing by a gaggle of junior fashion stylists and editors, he was finally fitted into a pair of khaki pants topped off with a striped turtleneck.  If that weren’t teen dream enough, they put a puppy in his arms.  To his credit, he did whatever they asked with no complaints.

The shoot ended and the girls giggled their way back to their uptown offices.  Johnny changed into his street clothes and hung back awhile.  I watched as he studied my photographs of musicians that covered the walls of my studio.

I had done my homework and I guess he had too.  I asked if he’d like me to shoot him with his guitar, the one that he just happened to have brought along.  The transition from teen idol to rock star was quick and easy.  I simply placed a black card on the shadow side of his face, creating more contrast and definition.  Finishing with a second black card positioned partially in front of the light that was illuminating him.  That cut the light off the background making it darker.

Needless to say, Johnny did all the rest.

Outside the box

Bill Gates 1985                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         ©Deborah Feingold

Having just come off of the road with Van Halen, it was hard to dial down my energy level for this next assignment: shooting the newest and youngest crop of entrepreneurs.  Instead of arenas filled with screaming, inebriated fans I’d now take aim in white-noised, Formica-filled corporate offices.

What I was wondering about was how to take what I’d learned from shooting musicians and applying it to more conservative, serious types who were not as comfortable being photographed as performers tended to be. I was determined to get these business-minded up-and-comers to shake it up. For starters, no clichéd man-behind-his-desk-set-ups would be allowed.

I arrived at Microsoft’s headquarters in Bellevue, Washington, late in the day for a shoot with a very young Bill Gates. The floor of office cubicles where I was escorted to didn’t look or feel that much different than the weather outside: cold, dark, and dull.

Bill barely looked up from his boxy white computer as we entered his office, but when he did it was with a “Let’s get this thing over with” kind of glance I knew only too well. I introduced myself and in the same sentence, without any additional breaths, asked him to get on top of his desk.  It was that simple.

Without any hesitation, he did.

Maybe he was compliant because photo shoots were new for him, or maybe he was taking the path of least resistance thinking I’d leave sooner.

Whatever he was thinking didn’t really matter to me because I’d met my challenge. For those few moments of shooting he was no different than any other rock star strutting on the stage of an enormous arena.

He rocked it!

 

The right stuff

Tom Wolfe 1997                                                                                                                                                                                                                   ©Deborah Feingold

People Magazine had me on contract when they assigned me to photograph Tom Wolfe.  Having grown up in the 60’s and experienced much of what life had to offer at that time, I was ecstatic. Tom Wolfe had chronicled my generation better than anyone and I could not believe my good fortune.

The photo editor gave me Tom’s home phone number. This was a welcomed change from the usual challenges of managers and publicists setting up blockades.  No, it was just going to be Tom and me on the line, as simple as that.   And so it was: Speaking with a hint of a southern accent, he invited my assistant and me to his home in Southampton, New York for the shoot.

After hours of crawling through the summer’s city-to-country traffic jam, we finally arrived.  The house was cloistered behind 12-foot-high precision cut privets, and as we drove down the bleached pebbled driveway, I was startled by a bright vision.  Was this a leftover 60’s flashback? A hallucination?  No, it was just Mr. Wolfe dressed in his customary head-to –toe whites, greeting us with a warm, welcoming smile.

Tom showed us around the property sharing stories about its history. He was so charming and engaging that I found myself more interested in listening than in taking his picture.  As we went back to the house and meandered in and out of the rooms my assistant finally nudged me, pointing to his watch.  The last room Tom showed us was his writing room.  He walked over to his desk, pulled out his chair and sat down. His fingers instinctively touched the keys of his typewriter and he started tapping away.  No more stories for us.  With my back against the wall, and without any hesitation, I started snapping.

I don’t know whether it was the ease of this shoot or this man’s company, but this is one of my favorite photographs.

How do you photograph LOVE… you get down on your knees

B.B.  King                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           ©Deborah Feingold

BB King’s love affair with Lucille was legendary.   Going into this shoot I knew that I wanted my pictures to show that passion.I arrived at the club early and was ushered backstage to the dressing room area.  BB hadn’t arrived yet but I was told to go ahead in and set up my equipment.  The room was small and painted a pale green color that someone, somewhere once decided was the perfect shade of awful for an artist to surround himself in before going on stage. But those walls faded as my eyes scanned the room and then abruptly stopped.  Leaning against the wall, proudly showing off her curves and high satin finish was Lucille.  A moment later, BB entered the room and everything suddenly became electric.  BB took Lucille into his arms, and cradled her across his chest.  He smiled and I started snapping away.  A few frames into the shoot, I knew I was feeling the love, but I sensed that I was not “seeing” the love.
I stopped the session and quickly switched to a wider  camera lens.  Then I dropped to my knees, positioning myself right under his belly. I must have startled him because he started laughing, unsure of what was going to happen next.

There should have been a musical cue right then… by simply changing to a wider lens and a lower angle, I was able to compress, exaggerate and then illustrate their affection.

And that’s how you photograph LOVE.