I love answering these kinds of things, since (although I’ve never held a formal teaching position) I’ve always believed I learn the most by sharing what I’ve already learned with others.

Here’s his letter:

Hello Jeff,

My name is Jason Rowe and I’m a Photography student at The Art
Institute of Colorado.

For a class assignment, I was instructed to find a working professional in my field. Next, I was to ask them the following questions:

1. What is your favorite part of your job?
2. What is the most challenging part of your job?
3. What is one piece of advice you would give a photography student?

I realize you are busy and would really appreciate if you could take
a minute to help me complete this assignment.

If you are too busy, I understand and thank you for taking the time
to read this email.

Thanks again and Best Regards,

Jason Rowe
The Art Institute of Colorado

And my response:

Hi Jason,

You bet, I’m happy to help you with your assignment….  I’m going to answer in a little bit more general fashion, since I always find it so hard to come up with one “favorite” LOL

One of the things I like the most about my job is the variety….I’m not a cubicle kind of guy, and I get to do something different every day.   Some of it sucks…after all, I wear a lot of hats….similar to most small-business owners, I’m not just the photographer…I’m also the accountant, marketing director, and janitor.   But it’s worth it anyway….    Because, what I might like even more than the aforementioned variety is the simple satisfaction that I’m getting paid to do what I like….no, not just what I “like”, but something that comes from my soul.

The most challenging part of my job…..hmmmm, I’ll tell you two things again.  My first answer would have to be handling the business “chores”…..bookkeeping, scheduling, organizing, etc.    As a predominantly right-brained person, those critical tasks are easy to screw up or lay aside… I have to constantly remind myself that they are ***important*** and that many shitty photographers who are great business people succeed, but never the other way around.     My other answer to that question is simply that photography is its own challenge….there are always opportunities to learn and grow in my art. Being a good photographer (for anyone, as my theory goes) is directly tied to how you view and interact with the world…and therein lies room for constant growth not just as a photographer but as a human being.

That kind of segues into advice….I’ll tell it to you like the Greeks: Know Thyself.    Why do you want to be a photographer??  What is it about yourself (not just you as a surface individual, this dude who happens to be named Jason…but YOU, your innermost SELF) that you can bring out in your photography that will make it such a unique expression that it can be found nowhere else in the world, rather than a commodity to be sought at the lowest price?

This is something I ask myself every day, because this self-reflection is critical to developing and maintaining your visual style.   Your style is never a set of techniques…that makes you simply a technician with skills that are easy to replace.  Your style is how you express your unique viewpoint…your vision.  IMHO, this idea is critical *especially* today, when technology is putting picture-taking ability into everyone’s hands, greatly devaluing purely technical photography and the skills of button-pushing and exposure-making.   It’s easy to know a lot about equipment, and Photoshop….but it’s much more valuable to understand how to use those tools to communicate in a way that uniquely resonates with others.

Feel free to get back to me if you want me to explain further or have any other questions… Good luck, in general, and with your assignment!

Best Regards,

Jeff Navarro
1425 West 13th Ave.
Denver, CO 80204
720-932-1300
www.navarrostudio.com

Petite redhead princess Michelle Irene was just what I needed…like all of my favorite models, she has multiple personas rolled into one. I first photographed Michelle last summer, shooting a wonderful series of nudes (which I should post, shouldn’t I?). With not an inhibited bone in her body, her attitude morphs continually from coquettish to bitchy to vulnerable to seductive, like a Swiss-army knife of feminine charms.

This is in fact, the first shoot to happen in my new studio! My able assistant, model/photographer/painter Sara Ford, did the hair and makeup. We took full opportunity to stretch creatively, especially towards the end, when we got crazy with lighting and props.

One of my favorite lighting techniques is to mix various types of light sources…continuous with strobe, tungsten with daylight, etc. Some of the images in the black bikini use this mixed lighting idea. Check the shot here, where she’s standing and grabbing her head…there’s a strobe in a large soft box coming in from the left, and a fluorescent bulb in a 12″ reflector on the other side.

Don’t get me wrong, digital is great stuff. I didn’t start my career as a digital photographer, though. The process of shooting film required a greater degree of involvement, and once used to the process it’s hard not to lament the old ways of doing things. The thing I liked most about the Type 55 film was the instant-gratification of having a useable image (much like digital is today) but having the super fine-grain quality of a large negative. There have been many occasions through my career as a photographer where I preferred the organic feel of this film and I, for one, am really going to miss getting my hands dirty.

When Dr. Penny Lloyd, a holistic veterinarian here in Colorado, contacted me about doing some promotional images for her business, the Type 55 was the first thing I grabbed before heading out to her mountain ranch. I knew the organic nature of the film would mesh nicely with the business image she wanted to project.

Dr. Lloyd is a licensed veterinarian who, in the interest of serving her patients better, took a turn down the alternative medicine path. This led to her cultivating an ability to communicate with and understanding the perspectives of her animal patients. Watching her interact with her horse, Bangwyn, was a lesson in communication and connectivity. She really speaks to animals. The weather was crisp and cold—and the scattered bright patches of snow on the ground lent an almost ethereal atmosphere to the shots. I captured some fantastic images of the two of them together.

I probably shot less than 20 frames that day on the Type 55, but each of the images came back with a powerful, emotional edge to them. When I submitted them to the art director for the shoot, she immediately fell in love with them. As a horse owner herself, the emotional connection caught on those timeless 4×5′s was something she couldn’t resist. It was only a matter of days before I had another shoot scheduled with her and her horse. Again, the results came back crisp and clean—typical of the high-resolution of the film itself (the highest resolution black and white film actually), but with the organic, hands-on feel left by the chemical patching on the edges.

It’s a careful process shooting with type 55. It’s an old-school working method that lends itself to a methodical, mindful approach to photography. It puts both the photographer and the subject in a special frame of mind that you don’t get with the rapid-fire, digital revolution…and there’s a shared sense of wonder as I peel apart the film, save the neg for scanning later, wipe the chemicals from my fingers onto my jeans, and pass the print around for everyone to see. Though I’m (nearly) a 100% digital photographer now, I still miss the physical process of film. Polaroid’s Type 55 will certainly go down in my book as one of my all-time favorites. I have no idea yet what I’m going to do with the rest of that box and a half in my fridge, but I’ll think of something to savor it with.

Fifty graphic designers were given a slew of art supplies and let loose with magnet sheets to collage upon, stencil upon, draw and paint upon. We made a big mess, and had a incredible time creating with [gasp!] our hands instead of a mouse.

Here are some shots I took early October at a fund-raising event for Homeward Bound, a non-profit organization that provides canine companions to the elderly. The event was a kind of play-date for dogs and their owners. There were fun (and kinda strange) activities like dog massages and animal communicators.

For my part, people would bring their pooch into the back room where I’d set up a mini-studio, and we’d get them on “film”.

Shooting dogs is much like shooting children…unruly and (almost) impossible to direct, with attention spans measured in milliseconds, they’re nevertheless always engaging and full of personality.

One of the familiar pieces that Brandie had seen before made it back this year—the Bone Tree, by Dana Albany. The craftsmanship of this 30-foot-tall tree made of—well…bones—is superb. Last year, it was positioned around the Man amongst a collection of art trees (the theme was Green Man) and the assumption had been that it’d been built specifically for that theme…it certainly fit. However, a little research shows that the sculpture has been alive and well since about 1999 on the playa…and still going strong. Hauntingly beautiful—and right at home amongst the barren expanse of dry lakebed, it was a sight to behold.

Center Camp proved to be a treat with its constant buzz of activity. Coffee was available for those unable to function without, and art was hung/displayed around the entire perimeter. During the day, this is where most of the action was happening. Performances happened on one of three stages within the vast tent-like structure and often there was performance art (dance, poi, aerial) happening in the center. We happened to stumble across a group of aerial fabric dancers one of the days that we were out and about.

When we ventured out onto the Esplanade at dusk, the art cars would light up and cruise between the many fabulous art pieces set out in the deep playa. In the dark, these mutant vehicles resembled huge, brightly-colored ships floating on a calm ocean. I developed an obsession with a rather nondescript art car that would roll past our camp several times a day. It was built on the framework of an old ice cream truck and topped with a rotating Christmas tree made of lights. It may have been plain…but it made an impact. That may, of course, have been partly due to the killer sound system it was outfitted with. The light-tree pulsed in computer-controlled synchronization to the eerie techno music blaring from the vehicle.

Dusk is also when the really interesting characters would start to come out of the woodwork. Always colorful and very often unusual, the folks taking part in the event were charming to talk to. Many are working artists. Others come to see art. Some just come for the party, but rarely does anyone walk away from this festival unaffected by the experience.

One of the most powerful experiences to be had in Black Rock City involves visiting the temple. Profound is the only word that can be used to describe Basura Sagrada, or “Sacred Trash.” It was built from recycled and cast-off materials—literally, trash—by Shrine, Tucker Teutsch and the citizens of Black Rock City. For years, David Best and crew have built the city’s Temple. They’ve always been gorgeous constructions of art that have housed a lot of energy—a non-judgmental place of hope, joy and remembrance for Black Rock. This year, Best turned over the construction of the temple to a new crew and they outdid themselves in grand style. Basura Sagrada was simply breathtaking. It had been open to visit for a scant two days the first time we saw it, and by then the walls and pillars were already covered with hand-written prayers and messages to lost loved ones, all to go up in smoke when the temple burned to the ground the last day of the festival, sending the hopes and dreams of thousands of people skyward on plumes of flame.

We made the pilgrimage to the temple twice—once, to leave our own thoughts and memories of loved ones who were deep in our hearts and minds. The other time was on Sunday night to watch it burn.

Burning Man becomes a place of both the individual as well as the collective. Oftentimes you’ll see the odd person sitting/standing/dancing/praying or doing whatever off on their own. It’s that sense of individuality that really brings home that however huge the event itself maybe, it’s comprised of 50,000 other points of light that illuminate the whole…together. Sitting amongst the people poised in quiet anticipation of the burning of Basura Sagrada, it was easy to appreciate the individual spirit in each person that brought them to this moment in time.

Regardless of the massive scale, the experiences and life lessons that we came away with all resounded on a personal level. Fire is a powerful element of transformation—and watching the Man burn as well as watching the temple fade to ashes reminded us of how important it is to continue to give our artistic selves purpose and meaning.

It also, on many levels, reminded us of our own humanity, of our own searches for meaning, for truth and for beauty. Even now, words fail to describe the event. Scrolling through our hundreds of pictures, we often wax nostalgic for that smell of dust and the feeling of coming home.

Truly, there is nothing quite like this baptism in the desert dust.