parasitegirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
parasitegirl) wrote2010-10-25 03:42 pm
parasitegirl) wrote2010-10-25 03:42 pm
Entry tags:
Blogging the shoot: 2010
It was a shoot of broken flows. If there are great images it will be like the beauty of mosaics, something that is more complete and beautiful as a whole than when thought of as the individual shards that it is comprised of. This is the best face I can put forward on Saturday night after the shoot.
The week and a half before the shoot I prepped:
- picked three costumes, assuming we would get to two of them but might have time for a third.
- ironed veils, checked hooks, and shined zills.
- increasing the time I wear my hard lenses
- made a few accessory runs. What is a good enough match in restaurants and stages is not always what you want in a close-up shot.
- made sure to not get much sun, so my chest and face would match my superwhite torso.
- cut back on dairy and greasy foods the few days before to avoid on bloat…also planned not to drink coffee that day for the same reason, so I didn’t restock my supply.
- pulled together inspiration/mood images for hair/make-up artist…as communication with a make-up artist is something I wanted to work on after learning we’d have one.
- worked on pose flows for slower shots, my weak point.
-packed snacks.
The Night Before:
I had everything packed as was feeling proud of my prep. Yay me! All set! No last minute second-guessing or panics!
That Saturday Morning:
Started waaaaaaayyy too early. My sleeping patterns have been a little rocky with the onset of SAD this year. I was up at 3:30AM and pretty much stayed up, except an hour or so between 7-8AM. Great. What a girl in the starting months of depression and over-reaction needs is a little bit of sleep deprivation. It just gives one that…edge.
I slowly woke up, ate a light breakfast, and set to prep. I lightly rolled my hair, no product, in case the make-up artist (MUA) hair guy was more MUA than hair. I pulled together a photoshoot music playlist based on what I use every week and music I had been practicing pose flows to. I glued on some fake nails, not wanting to deal with press-ons popping on and off. Press-ons are easier when you have shoot helpers to do things like hook you, open crap for you, adjust your costume. I really should just spring for professional tips one of these days and just count it as a regular dance maintenance thing.
I emailed Tim, the photography group’s organizer/advisor/guru, to ask if everything was good to go. The last two shoots have involved last-minute warnings that we might loose our MUA: Once I started my own prep and brought my own make-up only to have it scrubbed off and new make-up applied by the waiting MUA, the second time I arrived and did my own make-up. Doing my own make-up is no longer something I struggle with, although it was for the first 3-4 years of dance. Now I do it every week once or twice and am well stocked. I can “Do it at home” as the metro manner campaign used to urge or I can do in on the train if pressed for time.
Tim replied quickly, obviously having had his espresso. I could have used an espresso but I was sipping mint tea to reduce gas/bloating/fun stuff like that.
Top of the morning, Ozma!
We're good to go and you'll have a top Japanese hair/make artist :)
Pls bring your own foundation. And don't forget the sword!!
See you 11:50
I went to my gig bag from the night before, from the make-up pack I bring for touch-ups I pulled my base/primer and foundation. I added to this some false eyelashes I’d bought, knowing from experience that some MUA have had a pair waiting and some have had none. I didn’t pack any other make-up as three costumes, 4 skirts, three veils, two sets of zills, accessories, costume-specific undies, pins, speakers for my iPod, and a sword had already bumped me up to the suitcase I used to travel that summer to Las Vegas, San Fran and Seattle…and we were good to go on the MUA.
I pulled on one of my loose psychedelic maxi-dresses. I’d have to sit an hour on the train and more for make-up and hair and didn’t want any waistband marks on my midsection when the shoot started.
I got into Harajuku around 11:30. Harajuku was crowded with weekend shoppers and tourists and hangers about. I decided I needed coffee, fuck bloat and gas, and wheeled my goods to the Starbucks near the studio. FUEL! At the studio one of the men working at the photostore saw me struggling up the stairs and helped to carry my suitcase up to the fours floor. I was early.
I sat in the empty studio sipping my coffee and relaxed. The calm before…
A cute Japanese man named Kohei arrived first, although I am afraid that I called him Koki for the day. I introduced myself and he said he liked my voice. Soon after Kohei came Vanessa, a striking woman around my age. She would be the general photoshoot assistant that day. At least two people coming into the studio took one look at her and asked “Two models today?” At 5’4” (162cm) I’m not the sort of person folks see out of make-up and think, “Oh, Model!” although in my psychedelic dresses and huge sunglasses I am eccentric enough looking to be pegged as an off-duty performer/dancer/artist of some sort. Vanessa has modeled in the past, but is learning how to help run a shoot. She had not brought her camera, thinking she would be too busy assisting, which was a shame.
Tim entered, hugs, as did Dabie the photographer. It’s been years since I did a shoot with one photographer, as the Harajuku boys and girls tend to have 3-5 photographers at any given time, and the flow of a shoot with one camera vs one with many is very different…but I will get to that later.
I am feeling ready, right? I’ve done my homework, prepped for everything, and we’re gonna have a gay ol’ time…
Kohei started talking to Tim. There had been some sort of miscommunication between the two of them. Something essential had been lost in the bi-lingual exchange of emails. I will never know exactly what the issue was, as it doesn’t ultimately matter…It was for the best. I didn’t want to have someone to blame because I didn’t want to blame anyone or have anyone I’d be tempted to focus my confusion and terror at. Kohei had brought all his hair equiptment and none of his make-up supplies.
Suddenly, I am in a Scooby Doo episode. I hear the floor below me creak ominously.
I only have false eyelashes and foundation, I whimpered. Tim said “That’ll be fine. These guys are great with photoshop.”
I waited a bit and saw that he wasn’t kidding. He was dead serious. He thought a bellydance photoshoot without make-up is an option. I had had 3-4 hours of sleep and these days small troubles loom like mountains through the lenses of depression. Tim had gone straight to “Let’s just roll with this” mode.
The animated Ozma now knows what that creaking sound was. The trapdoor below her feet opens. For a split second she hovers in midair, the horrid look of realization on her face, then she plunges downward. Freefall.
This is what I had brought:
No make-up is not an option for a bellydance shoot. You wouldn’t use Vegas show-girl make-up on a woman wearing flannel pjs. Likewise my perfectly fine un-made face is great for daily life, but it is wrong atop my costumes. It doesn’t match. Minimal make-up would work if we were shooting me in practice gear, showing what I might look like teaching you…but I had no Melodia pants or twist tops or yoga gear on me…and even then you’d want at least 5 items of make-up doing double duty.
I didn’t articulate this well. I have no clue what I said. I think the strain of my voice, the tightness of my neck, and the look of utter despair on my face probably spoke louder than whatever words I found.
Vanessa backed me up. We needed make-up.
My energy went mostly to keeping my shit together and not letting this break me needlessly. I mean, the week before a gas-bill mix-up had made me sniffle and feel helpless. My usual ability to calmly troubleshoot in crisis was GONE.
No make-up and the clock was ticking. I tried to get a hold of Anna, who lives near by and had helped Eshe as a MUA in past shoots, but for some reason my call went to her voice mail. Later she’d text and say she had no idea why it went to voice mail and she only got it after the shoot…as she had been available. Joe couldn’t be reached and I couldn’t find Momo’s number.
Vanessa, Kohei and I went out into Harajuku to buy some make-up. Sun bright. Mind garbled. Me: increasingly brittle and unfocused. Vanessa was trying to calm me, reminding me that panic will do me no good, that there is nothing to do but find a solution…and I knew she was speaking the truth. I am usually the one saying those things. I’m the one saying pull-yourself-together worry-will-not-help we-are-troubleshooting-and-are-in-the-process-of-fixing-this…this-too-shall-pass. I’m not often the other girl…this confused and spiral fearing mess. And when I am, there is often the spector of depression issues standing behind me and I have the wherewithal to be able to introduce my dark friend as a player in this scene.
We wove through Takeshita-dori street. It seemed suddenly as if Harajuku had been stripped of make-up…looking this way and that…things, things, things but not what we need: Zakka, knock-offs, Nigerian men with flyers, slow-moving girls. Then there was a drugstore. In. Up the stairs. Make-up. Cue the singing of angels.
I started picking make-up and then realized that that part of my mind had shut down. I couldn’t make choices. I turned to Kohei and started explaining to him, as best I could what the costume looks like and the images I have in my head. I asked him if he would be helping me please please with the make-up. He would.
I’ve since had the opportunity to enter a drugstore and a 100yen store. I’ve looked at the racks of make-up and confirmed that under normal days I’d be able to pick an assortment of items clearly and quickly. But then I needed help and they provided it. I wanted to explain that I am not normally like this, but what good would that do?
Vanessa brought things to me and explained what and why. I said yes and they went into the basket. Kohei wrinkled his face and plucked items from the displays. I paid 7000-8000 yen for make-up from my gig money of the night before. It’s the brushes that probably pushed the price up but I did not care. I did not care if I was re-embursed. It’s a free shoot. If we got good images and this is what I paid for them? So be it…still a great deal. Besides, I was a self-aware sleep-deprived mess and didn’t want to be more of a calamity by hounding down money. I wanted to be able to get what we thought we needed and roll on.
And with that some of my ability to think came back. We had a solution. We had make-up.
Make-up:
The two eyeshadow packs on the upper left came from Vanessa, she’d just purchased them for her Halloween costume. The make-up wipes were actually purchased by Kohei halfway through doing my face.
I also had a vividly red face. I don’t often stress-blush, but when I do it is dramatic.
Tim and Dabie were happy to see Vanessa, as they needed all the hands for set-up they could get. Usually they have 3-5 people on hand, setting up under the guidance and explanations of Tim. Set-up was delayed due to make-up hunting and would take longer than normal due to fewer folks
Tim asked how I was doing and, while I know he was looking for reassurance I was only able to give him “Well it’s gonna get better. We’re gonna make this work…” He pep talked me a bit about how we were lucky that it was me this was happening to how I could rolls with such things a trooper…yeah I thought, we’ll see about that.
Kohei washed my face and packed on some cold-compresses to bring down the redness. Tim Vanessa and Dabie set up. I sat, unmoving. Kohei went out for a smoke.
Photo:
It had been my plan to shoot the sword and coin-costume last, if at all. Slow posing doesn’t come easily for me although I had practiced it. I need time to spin and perform and shed my camera inhibitions before I can go slow, sultry, and simple. Kohei explained it would be better for him to start with the sword as it needed the smoothest and simplest hair. So be it.
While Kohei started on my hair Tim explained and set up. At one point he pulled a pink clown wig from a supply closet and asked Kohei if he needed it. Kohei didn’t appear to hear or respond, so I said we’d use it for my next shoot.
Shortly after, as my humor found me again, I called to Tim.
“Tim, there’s actually something you can do…YOU can wear that wig for the shoot. It7d make me happy.”
Tim was happy to hear that I was back and laughing but did not don the pink poof. When he asked if this would all go into the blog. “Oh, I will have words for this!” Of course it would be. “You’ll even write that I asked! Won’t you?” Of course I would. Then he explained that when he trained as a journalist, he learned that the more things went wrong the better a story you had to write anyways…I always knew Tim was Gonzo, like me. I told Tim, yes, and that I’d had a lot to write about in the last year…and launched into a bit of the moving/police saga.
“God sure works in mysterious ways doesn’t she?” he laughed.
“She sure does. She’s like the female friend from hell sometimes.”
Tim got back to educating and advising. Tof, my co-worker, arrived. He needs photos done at some point so I told him to drop by and meet Tim and see if they clicked. Tim was busy explaining and setting up. Tof found a place to sit and observe amused. Sometimes I could hear Tim talking about me…about the amazing luminescence of my skin and how to work with it…but I couldn’t turn my head.
The photosquad briefly borrowed me to check lighting move reflectors, find sweet spots check my height, get a look at my fine fishbelly hued neck and face.
Kohei is amazing with hair. Tim was right to want to get someone for my hair. Kohei usually works as a MUA/Hair for some sort of agency but his love of getting experience with foreign tresses has brought him into the fold of the Harajuku photographers. I knew I’d probably drive Kohei a bit insane with the amount I spin and whip my hair around but it looked amazing.
Kohei also did an admirable job with our make-up. He, like me is used to good brushes, eye-primers, gel liners, the best pigments. I could see him struggle, pull back, re-approach as he quickly learned the limitations of his media. I would have done fine with my own make-up but would have struggled with the drugstore items. I mostly sat and praised and thanked and praised Kohei.
I introduced Tim to the Tof and ducked into the bathroom to change. I’d forgotten my bracelets, but that hardly mattered. I looked into the mirror and some sexy lady from an album cover/ a Star Trek planet/a sci-fi novel returned my gaze. That’s the stuff.
Time to shoot!
Dabie showed me some images on the iPad he’d brought. He’d done his homework on bellydance and bellydance photos. Later I would learn that he’d even burned a cd of bellydance music for the shoot incase I didn’t bring any. I would have been curious to hear it, although I probably would have found it unsuitable for my music needs. Bellydance contains a wide range of music, and dance styles, and I’d packed songs specific to my style of dance and tailored to different moods and movements I wanted to tackle. The likelihood of him lighting on the sort of music specific to my style would be fairly slim, as Turkish music is often underrepresented in BD music collections.
I knew the image he was showing me. Yasmine had been a pupil with me at my first teacher’s studio. The photo was taken by Danz and showed Yasmine on her knees, back arched so her head almost touched her toes. Many of the other shots he had were from Danz. He’d found a good photographer. There are many photos of Danz I love of dancers I know well: Farasha in her wings. Suiren twisted and posing. Henna emerging from the darkness. But…Danz personal style tends to feature dancers frozen in strong poses, stoic, almost iconic statues...and a fair amount of twisty/turned dancers creating confusing and fascinating lines frozen in time.
My weak spot? Posing. My strong point: Dynamic and fast movement.
Dobie had prepared well for a certain type of belly dancer, I thought, but might be unprepared for the dancer he had before him. Belly dance is expansive, containing multitudes of us. The only way this was going to work would be for me to try to be the dancer he wanted while also showing him the dancer I am. He, conversely, would need to articulate what he’d like while reacting and adjusting to what he had. That’s the only way it ever is going to work when you collaborate: Try to meet halfway and hope that once you both meet there, if you ever do, you can go somewhere new together.
I insisted on a little time with fast music to push beyond my nerves. I brought out the zills.
As I’ve said before, the different between shooting with one photographer and with many is quite different. The norm for most dancers is to have one photographer, but with the Harajuku group I am most accustomed to multiple photographers.
With many photographers there is always one shooting. Beyond him/her the other photographers watch, get a feel for the situation, and can start reacting and planning their own attacks. They can see what they want, what is on the table, and have time to think. They conspire and converse. They can build off the ideas of others. Groups generate ideas that it would take a single shooter greater time to arrive at. When one photographer steps back to review his/her captured images, show them around, confirm/review some things with Tim, the next steps up… “Can you do this again?” “I liked this but I think I wants to shoot it from above…” for each photographer it is probably a process in which they feel the stops and starts, they have the active and the passive…from my vantage point it is organic, almost seamless. It is exhausting, as I will often do the same moved for 3 different lenses, but I can stay in motion. Motion is where I am most comfortable.
I started with faster moves, but Dabie seemed too close. I second guessed him and myself and faltered. We went to slow moves, perhaps sooner than I was ready. Those pose flows I had worked on…they vanished. I could remember only fragments. I couldn’t remember where I had been and where else I had to go. I could only continue, find something in the music, and trust in myself and my photographer. I should have run through poses that morning, in between mint tea and talons. I should have done so many things…but in shoots you have to chase off the shouldhave couldhaves and be present. The time for shouldhaves is short, save them for preparing for the next shoot. You don’t want your doubts to flick across your face, because then the shutter will click.
Vanessa and Dabie were both interested in seeing floor-work backbends. I had not worked on my floorwork and quad control for at least three months and was not warmed up. I tried best I could. I felt the strain in my quads. I felt like the wrong dancer. Kohei sporatically ducked-in and primp my hair for me, bless him.
This may have been when we started blowing the lighting fuses. This was unusual. Tim and his crew know this studio, have been in it every Saturday since I don’t know when…so the stops and starts of a single photographer grew longer due to technical difficulties. That fuse blew 4 or 5 times. Dabie had to be one of the people to fix it, so I never had time to see or ask to see the images he was capturing. Usually I can see a few, know what I have done and what has or hasn’t worked and adjust.
We brought out the sword.
I’ll say this for the sword: if you cannot summon the joy and you’re feeling rather stoic, there are worse props to have. If you find yourself looking deep into the lens, thinking dark thoughts, a sword offsets your glare much better than fan veils, silks, or shamedan. I wasn’t mad any anyone but I was increasingly uncomfortable…and forgetting what little I know of swordwork…and aware of my weaknesses and blind spots…and trying to flush that out and just be there to the music and the lens. Perform. Perform. Make this emotion work for you.
What I knew was this: swords are heavy and concrete isn’t forgiving. I still feel like a chimp tried to pull one of my arms out of the socket, a result from holding the sword in one hand, still, stoic, strong. What I knew was this: such things do not matter. You are a performer and you can do this and must believe this. Forgetting everything I knew about how to hold myself before a camera, how to pose, I had to just trust that my performance skills and muscle memory would suffice.
Tim realized, at some point, we had been in the slow land of sword for too long…and only had 25 minutes left in the session.
I changed into my green Bella. I would have a silk veil. When in doubt in shoots and in dance…I default to one thing: I spin. Vanessa and Kohei updated my hair and make-up. Tof left for a martial arts practice.
Music on, veil in hand, and I unleashed as I hadn’t yet been able to do mentally or phsyically. I think it was then that it clicked for Dabie and for me…I was the dancer I am and he was seeing it and understanding it. Maybe I read too deeply, or the retrospection is coloring everything but that was my gut feeling.
Another fuse down.
Fixed. Some close-ups. More spinning and veil. I didn’t stop as Dabie pulled over boxes to get a bird’s eye view...a few full shots…a fuse. The End.
It was time to clean up. Tim told me Dabie had some great shots, but I never got to see any. I got changed, thrust my stuff into my suitcase. I think we ended on a good note. I handed out cards and thanks as best I could. Tim slipped me an envelope of “I’m soooo sorry about the make-up mix-up” money, he didn’t have to but I appreciated it. Dabie helped carry my suitcase downstairs.
The rest of the evening is best left un-illuminated. Routers went down, pizza men got lost, nails were pried off, the rest of the exhaustion hit me like a bullet train. I slept for 12 hours.
Sunday I sent off a thank you to Tim, to extend to everyone else involved. I cooked and napped and slothed.
Monday morning brought me a teaser shot…and it was lovely. Stunning. It said to me that these things happen and work themselves when you are all trying.
As the images filter in I will have to go through them and all the others I have to start culling for my web mistress and for my upcoming promo needs. Yes, I will blog that too. I do not live an unexamined life, but the fact ya’ll examine it along with me is always a kick.
Would I have liked a do-over? Fuck, yeah. Do I look forward to the next time I get to work with Tim’s crew? Hell, yeah. Next time, will I pack everything on the off chance that the sky will fall and I’ll want to be over-prepped. Tim will smile as I pull jumper cables, a MAC cosmetics counter, twenty clown wigs and a hammock from my suitcase…and I’ll fix him with a smile and a simple “I am taking no chances this time” laugh.
The week and a half before the shoot I prepped:
- picked three costumes, assuming we would get to two of them but might have time for a third.
- ironed veils, checked hooks, and shined zills.
- increasing the time I wear my hard lenses
- made a few accessory runs. What is a good enough match in restaurants and stages is not always what you want in a close-up shot.
- made sure to not get much sun, so my chest and face would match my superwhite torso.
- cut back on dairy and greasy foods the few days before to avoid on bloat…also planned not to drink coffee that day for the same reason, so I didn’t restock my supply.
- pulled together inspiration/mood images for hair/make-up artist…as communication with a make-up artist is something I wanted to work on after learning we’d have one.
- worked on pose flows for slower shots, my weak point.
-packed snacks.
The Night Before:
I had everything packed as was feeling proud of my prep. Yay me! All set! No last minute second-guessing or panics!
That Saturday Morning:
Started waaaaaaayyy too early. My sleeping patterns have been a little rocky with the onset of SAD this year. I was up at 3:30AM and pretty much stayed up, except an hour or so between 7-8AM. Great. What a girl in the starting months of depression and over-reaction needs is a little bit of sleep deprivation. It just gives one that…edge.
I slowly woke up, ate a light breakfast, and set to prep. I lightly rolled my hair, no product, in case the make-up artist (MUA) hair guy was more MUA than hair. I pulled together a photoshoot music playlist based on what I use every week and music I had been practicing pose flows to. I glued on some fake nails, not wanting to deal with press-ons popping on and off. Press-ons are easier when you have shoot helpers to do things like hook you, open crap for you, adjust your costume. I really should just spring for professional tips one of these days and just count it as a regular dance maintenance thing.
I emailed Tim, the photography group’s organizer/advisor/guru, to ask if everything was good to go. The last two shoots have involved last-minute warnings that we might loose our MUA: Once I started my own prep and brought my own make-up only to have it scrubbed off and new make-up applied by the waiting MUA, the second time I arrived and did my own make-up. Doing my own make-up is no longer something I struggle with, although it was for the first 3-4 years of dance. Now I do it every week once or twice and am well stocked. I can “Do it at home” as the metro manner campaign used to urge or I can do in on the train if pressed for time.
Tim replied quickly, obviously having had his espresso. I could have used an espresso but I was sipping mint tea to reduce gas/bloating/fun stuff like that.
Top of the morning, Ozma!
We're good to go and you'll have a top Japanese hair/make artist :)
Pls bring your own foundation. And don't forget the sword!!
See you 11:50
I went to my gig bag from the night before, from the make-up pack I bring for touch-ups I pulled my base/primer and foundation. I added to this some false eyelashes I’d bought, knowing from experience that some MUA have had a pair waiting and some have had none. I didn’t pack any other make-up as three costumes, 4 skirts, three veils, two sets of zills, accessories, costume-specific undies, pins, speakers for my iPod, and a sword had already bumped me up to the suitcase I used to travel that summer to Las Vegas, San Fran and Seattle…and we were good to go on the MUA.
I pulled on one of my loose psychedelic maxi-dresses. I’d have to sit an hour on the train and more for make-up and hair and didn’t want any waistband marks on my midsection when the shoot started.
I got into Harajuku around 11:30. Harajuku was crowded with weekend shoppers and tourists and hangers about. I decided I needed coffee, fuck bloat and gas, and wheeled my goods to the Starbucks near the studio. FUEL! At the studio one of the men working at the photostore saw me struggling up the stairs and helped to carry my suitcase up to the fours floor. I was early.
I sat in the empty studio sipping my coffee and relaxed. The calm before…
A cute Japanese man named Kohei arrived first, although I am afraid that I called him Koki for the day. I introduced myself and he said he liked my voice. Soon after Kohei came Vanessa, a striking woman around my age. She would be the general photoshoot assistant that day. At least two people coming into the studio took one look at her and asked “Two models today?” At 5’4” (162cm) I’m not the sort of person folks see out of make-up and think, “Oh, Model!” although in my psychedelic dresses and huge sunglasses I am eccentric enough looking to be pegged as an off-duty performer/dancer/artist of some sort. Vanessa has modeled in the past, but is learning how to help run a shoot. She had not brought her camera, thinking she would be too busy assisting, which was a shame.
Tim entered, hugs, as did Dabie the photographer. It’s been years since I did a shoot with one photographer, as the Harajuku boys and girls tend to have 3-5 photographers at any given time, and the flow of a shoot with one camera vs one with many is very different…but I will get to that later.
I am feeling ready, right? I’ve done my homework, prepped for everything, and we’re gonna have a gay ol’ time…
Kohei started talking to Tim. There had been some sort of miscommunication between the two of them. Something essential had been lost in the bi-lingual exchange of emails. I will never know exactly what the issue was, as it doesn’t ultimately matter…It was for the best. I didn’t want to have someone to blame because I didn’t want to blame anyone or have anyone I’d be tempted to focus my confusion and terror at. Kohei had brought all his hair equiptment and none of his make-up supplies.
Suddenly, I am in a Scooby Doo episode. I hear the floor below me creak ominously.
I only have false eyelashes and foundation, I whimpered. Tim said “That’ll be fine. These guys are great with photoshop.”
I waited a bit and saw that he wasn’t kidding. He was dead serious. He thought a bellydance photoshoot without make-up is an option. I had had 3-4 hours of sleep and these days small troubles loom like mountains through the lenses of depression. Tim had gone straight to “Let’s just roll with this” mode.
The animated Ozma now knows what that creaking sound was. The trapdoor below her feet opens. For a split second she hovers in midair, the horrid look of realization on her face, then she plunges downward. Freefall.
This is what I had brought:
No make-up is not an option for a bellydance shoot. You wouldn’t use Vegas show-girl make-up on a woman wearing flannel pjs. Likewise my perfectly fine un-made face is great for daily life, but it is wrong atop my costumes. It doesn’t match. Minimal make-up would work if we were shooting me in practice gear, showing what I might look like teaching you…but I had no Melodia pants or twist tops or yoga gear on me…and even then you’d want at least 5 items of make-up doing double duty.
I didn’t articulate this well. I have no clue what I said. I think the strain of my voice, the tightness of my neck, and the look of utter despair on my face probably spoke louder than whatever words I found.
Vanessa backed me up. We needed make-up.
My energy went mostly to keeping my shit together and not letting this break me needlessly. I mean, the week before a gas-bill mix-up had made me sniffle and feel helpless. My usual ability to calmly troubleshoot in crisis was GONE.
No make-up and the clock was ticking. I tried to get a hold of Anna, who lives near by and had helped Eshe as a MUA in past shoots, but for some reason my call went to her voice mail. Later she’d text and say she had no idea why it went to voice mail and she only got it after the shoot…as she had been available. Joe couldn’t be reached and I couldn’t find Momo’s number.
Vanessa, Kohei and I went out into Harajuku to buy some make-up. Sun bright. Mind garbled. Me: increasingly brittle and unfocused. Vanessa was trying to calm me, reminding me that panic will do me no good, that there is nothing to do but find a solution…and I knew she was speaking the truth. I am usually the one saying those things. I’m the one saying pull-yourself-together worry-will-not-help we-are-troubleshooting-and-are-in-the-process-of-fixing-this…this-too-shall-pass. I’m not often the other girl…this confused and spiral fearing mess. And when I am, there is often the spector of depression issues standing behind me and I have the wherewithal to be able to introduce my dark friend as a player in this scene.
We wove through Takeshita-dori street. It seemed suddenly as if Harajuku had been stripped of make-up…looking this way and that…things, things, things but not what we need: Zakka, knock-offs, Nigerian men with flyers, slow-moving girls. Then there was a drugstore. In. Up the stairs. Make-up. Cue the singing of angels.
I started picking make-up and then realized that that part of my mind had shut down. I couldn’t make choices. I turned to Kohei and started explaining to him, as best I could what the costume looks like and the images I have in my head. I asked him if he would be helping me please please with the make-up. He would.
I’ve since had the opportunity to enter a drugstore and a 100yen store. I’ve looked at the racks of make-up and confirmed that under normal days I’d be able to pick an assortment of items clearly and quickly. But then I needed help and they provided it. I wanted to explain that I am not normally like this, but what good would that do?
Vanessa brought things to me and explained what and why. I said yes and they went into the basket. Kohei wrinkled his face and plucked items from the displays. I paid 7000-8000 yen for make-up from my gig money of the night before. It’s the brushes that probably pushed the price up but I did not care. I did not care if I was re-embursed. It’s a free shoot. If we got good images and this is what I paid for them? So be it…still a great deal. Besides, I was a self-aware sleep-deprived mess and didn’t want to be more of a calamity by hounding down money. I wanted to be able to get what we thought we needed and roll on.
And with that some of my ability to think came back. We had a solution. We had make-up.
Make-up:
The two eyeshadow packs on the upper left came from Vanessa, she’d just purchased them for her Halloween costume. The make-up wipes were actually purchased by Kohei halfway through doing my face.
I also had a vividly red face. I don’t often stress-blush, but when I do it is dramatic.
Tim and Dabie were happy to see Vanessa, as they needed all the hands for set-up they could get. Usually they have 3-5 people on hand, setting up under the guidance and explanations of Tim. Set-up was delayed due to make-up hunting and would take longer than normal due to fewer folks
Tim asked how I was doing and, while I know he was looking for reassurance I was only able to give him “Well it’s gonna get better. We’re gonna make this work…” He pep talked me a bit about how we were lucky that it was me this was happening to how I could rolls with such things a trooper…yeah I thought, we’ll see about that.
Kohei washed my face and packed on some cold-compresses to bring down the redness. Tim Vanessa and Dabie set up. I sat, unmoving. Kohei went out for a smoke.
Photo:
It had been my plan to shoot the sword and coin-costume last, if at all. Slow posing doesn’t come easily for me although I had practiced it. I need time to spin and perform and shed my camera inhibitions before I can go slow, sultry, and simple. Kohei explained it would be better for him to start with the sword as it needed the smoothest and simplest hair. So be it.
While Kohei started on my hair Tim explained and set up. At one point he pulled a pink clown wig from a supply closet and asked Kohei if he needed it. Kohei didn’t appear to hear or respond, so I said we’d use it for my next shoot.
Shortly after, as my humor found me again, I called to Tim.
“Tim, there’s actually something you can do…YOU can wear that wig for the shoot. It7d make me happy.”
Tim was happy to hear that I was back and laughing but did not don the pink poof. When he asked if this would all go into the blog. “Oh, I will have words for this!” Of course it would be. “You’ll even write that I asked! Won’t you?” Of course I would. Then he explained that when he trained as a journalist, he learned that the more things went wrong the better a story you had to write anyways…I always knew Tim was Gonzo, like me. I told Tim, yes, and that I’d had a lot to write about in the last year…and launched into a bit of the moving/police saga.
“God sure works in mysterious ways doesn’t she?” he laughed.
“She sure does. She’s like the female friend from hell sometimes.”
Tim got back to educating and advising. Tof, my co-worker, arrived. He needs photos done at some point so I told him to drop by and meet Tim and see if they clicked. Tim was busy explaining and setting up. Tof found a place to sit and observe amused. Sometimes I could hear Tim talking about me…about the amazing luminescence of my skin and how to work with it…but I couldn’t turn my head.
The photosquad briefly borrowed me to check lighting move reflectors, find sweet spots check my height, get a look at my fine fishbelly hued neck and face.
Kohei is amazing with hair. Tim was right to want to get someone for my hair. Kohei usually works as a MUA/Hair for some sort of agency but his love of getting experience with foreign tresses has brought him into the fold of the Harajuku photographers. I knew I’d probably drive Kohei a bit insane with the amount I spin and whip my hair around but it looked amazing.
Kohei also did an admirable job with our make-up. He, like me is used to good brushes, eye-primers, gel liners, the best pigments. I could see him struggle, pull back, re-approach as he quickly learned the limitations of his media. I would have done fine with my own make-up but would have struggled with the drugstore items. I mostly sat and praised and thanked and praised Kohei.
I introduced Tim to the Tof and ducked into the bathroom to change. I’d forgotten my bracelets, but that hardly mattered. I looked into the mirror and some sexy lady from an album cover/ a Star Trek planet/a sci-fi novel returned my gaze. That’s the stuff.
Time to shoot!
Dabie showed me some images on the iPad he’d brought. He’d done his homework on bellydance and bellydance photos. Later I would learn that he’d even burned a cd of bellydance music for the shoot incase I didn’t bring any. I would have been curious to hear it, although I probably would have found it unsuitable for my music needs. Bellydance contains a wide range of music, and dance styles, and I’d packed songs specific to my style of dance and tailored to different moods and movements I wanted to tackle. The likelihood of him lighting on the sort of music specific to my style would be fairly slim, as Turkish music is often underrepresented in BD music collections.
I knew the image he was showing me. Yasmine had been a pupil with me at my first teacher’s studio. The photo was taken by Danz and showed Yasmine on her knees, back arched so her head almost touched her toes. Many of the other shots he had were from Danz. He’d found a good photographer. There are many photos of Danz I love of dancers I know well: Farasha in her wings. Suiren twisted and posing. Henna emerging from the darkness. But…Danz personal style tends to feature dancers frozen in strong poses, stoic, almost iconic statues...and a fair amount of twisty/turned dancers creating confusing and fascinating lines frozen in time.
My weak spot? Posing. My strong point: Dynamic and fast movement.
Dobie had prepared well for a certain type of belly dancer, I thought, but might be unprepared for the dancer he had before him. Belly dance is expansive, containing multitudes of us. The only way this was going to work would be for me to try to be the dancer he wanted while also showing him the dancer I am. He, conversely, would need to articulate what he’d like while reacting and adjusting to what he had. That’s the only way it ever is going to work when you collaborate: Try to meet halfway and hope that once you both meet there, if you ever do, you can go somewhere new together.
I insisted on a little time with fast music to push beyond my nerves. I brought out the zills.
As I’ve said before, the different between shooting with one photographer and with many is quite different. The norm for most dancers is to have one photographer, but with the Harajuku group I am most accustomed to multiple photographers.
With many photographers there is always one shooting. Beyond him/her the other photographers watch, get a feel for the situation, and can start reacting and planning their own attacks. They can see what they want, what is on the table, and have time to think. They conspire and converse. They can build off the ideas of others. Groups generate ideas that it would take a single shooter greater time to arrive at. When one photographer steps back to review his/her captured images, show them around, confirm/review some things with Tim, the next steps up… “Can you do this again?” “I liked this but I think I wants to shoot it from above…” for each photographer it is probably a process in which they feel the stops and starts, they have the active and the passive…from my vantage point it is organic, almost seamless. It is exhausting, as I will often do the same moved for 3 different lenses, but I can stay in motion. Motion is where I am most comfortable.
I started with faster moves, but Dabie seemed too close. I second guessed him and myself and faltered. We went to slow moves, perhaps sooner than I was ready. Those pose flows I had worked on…they vanished. I could remember only fragments. I couldn’t remember where I had been and where else I had to go. I could only continue, find something in the music, and trust in myself and my photographer. I should have run through poses that morning, in between mint tea and talons. I should have done so many things…but in shoots you have to chase off the shouldhave couldhaves and be present. The time for shouldhaves is short, save them for preparing for the next shoot. You don’t want your doubts to flick across your face, because then the shutter will click.
Vanessa and Dabie were both interested in seeing floor-work backbends. I had not worked on my floorwork and quad control for at least three months and was not warmed up. I tried best I could. I felt the strain in my quads. I felt like the wrong dancer. Kohei sporatically ducked-in and primp my hair for me, bless him.
This may have been when we started blowing the lighting fuses. This was unusual. Tim and his crew know this studio, have been in it every Saturday since I don’t know when…so the stops and starts of a single photographer grew longer due to technical difficulties. That fuse blew 4 or 5 times. Dabie had to be one of the people to fix it, so I never had time to see or ask to see the images he was capturing. Usually I can see a few, know what I have done and what has or hasn’t worked and adjust.
We brought out the sword.
I’ll say this for the sword: if you cannot summon the joy and you’re feeling rather stoic, there are worse props to have. If you find yourself looking deep into the lens, thinking dark thoughts, a sword offsets your glare much better than fan veils, silks, or shamedan. I wasn’t mad any anyone but I was increasingly uncomfortable…and forgetting what little I know of swordwork…and aware of my weaknesses and blind spots…and trying to flush that out and just be there to the music and the lens. Perform. Perform. Make this emotion work for you.
What I knew was this: swords are heavy and concrete isn’t forgiving. I still feel like a chimp tried to pull one of my arms out of the socket, a result from holding the sword in one hand, still, stoic, strong. What I knew was this: such things do not matter. You are a performer and you can do this and must believe this. Forgetting everything I knew about how to hold myself before a camera, how to pose, I had to just trust that my performance skills and muscle memory would suffice.
Tim realized, at some point, we had been in the slow land of sword for too long…and only had 25 minutes left in the session.
I changed into my green Bella. I would have a silk veil. When in doubt in shoots and in dance…I default to one thing: I spin. Vanessa and Kohei updated my hair and make-up. Tof left for a martial arts practice.
Music on, veil in hand, and I unleashed as I hadn’t yet been able to do mentally or phsyically. I think it was then that it clicked for Dabie and for me…I was the dancer I am and he was seeing it and understanding it. Maybe I read too deeply, or the retrospection is coloring everything but that was my gut feeling.
Another fuse down.
Fixed. Some close-ups. More spinning and veil. I didn’t stop as Dabie pulled over boxes to get a bird’s eye view...a few full shots…a fuse. The End.
It was time to clean up. Tim told me Dabie had some great shots, but I never got to see any. I got changed, thrust my stuff into my suitcase. I think we ended on a good note. I handed out cards and thanks as best I could. Tim slipped me an envelope of “I’m soooo sorry about the make-up mix-up” money, he didn’t have to but I appreciated it. Dabie helped carry my suitcase downstairs.
The rest of the evening is best left un-illuminated. Routers went down, pizza men got lost, nails were pried off, the rest of the exhaustion hit me like a bullet train. I slept for 12 hours.
Sunday I sent off a thank you to Tim, to extend to everyone else involved. I cooked and napped and slothed.
Monday morning brought me a teaser shot…and it was lovely. Stunning. It said to me that these things happen and work themselves when you are all trying.
As the images filter in I will have to go through them and all the others I have to start culling for my web mistress and for my upcoming promo needs. Yes, I will blog that too. I do not live an unexamined life, but the fact ya’ll examine it along with me is always a kick.
Would I have liked a do-over? Fuck, yeah. Do I look forward to the next time I get to work with Tim’s crew? Hell, yeah. Next time, will I pack everything on the off chance that the sky will fall and I’ll want to be over-prepped. Tim will smile as I pull jumper cables, a MAC cosmetics counter, twenty clown wigs and a hammock from my suitcase…and I’ll fix him with a smile and a simple “I am taking no chances this time” laugh.