Food Photography and Dallas

It's no secret to anyone that has spent any time in Dallas that we have a LOT of restaurants. Well, we have a lot of churches, strip clubs, malls, movie theaters, and grocery stores too. But for the sake of this entry, I'll focus on the restaurants.

I love food. And the more I shoot photos of food, the more I enjoy that aspect of photography as well.


There are some funny things about shooting people. They get sick, relatives pass away, their cars break down, they forget to set their alarms... The list goes on. Things come up. People need to reschedule or cancel. But I have never had a donut call in sick.



A few years back I was supposed to be married. The engagement was called off about two weeks before the wedding date. I had been taking a break from shooting at the time and decided that creative expression would be the perfect medium to help clear my mind after that ordeal. It opened my world in ways I could never have imagined.

A good friend of mine (and business partner in a number of ventures, most recently Atomic Hedgehog) caught the photography bug around that time. He says that it was from seeing the enjoyment I was experiencing while shooting. Apparently joy is contagious. Who knew?

I was shooting people, he started shooting food. But here is where it got a little frustrating. I had been shooting off and on (between dating insecure women for the most part) for around 10 years. 4 months behind the camera and my friend was shooting better than I ever did after 5 or 6 years. So in a lot of ways, I inspired him to pick up the camera, and he inspired me to start shooting food. Incidentally he has been shooting people lately. Life is funny sometimes.



I initially picked up the camera to create art. I might have used the camera as an excuse to talk to the occasional college girl at the time as well, but that's part of the fun. And here I am enjoying photographing food. Life is good.

Thanks Theresa and Dao

Theresa has been on my wish list for longer than I care to remember. I think I first saw her photos around two years ago, and I was sold. I finally had the opportunity to work with her and the wait was well worth it. Here are a couple of shots from that day.




Dao is Theresa's cousin. She came along to the shoot and ended up volunteering for a few photos as well. And I am glad she did. This little pocket-sized ball of awesome is a natural. I love what we created and my door is always open to her as well as Theresa.

In part of the shoot, Dao's hand slipped off the fabric. I'm not a fan of posting out-takes, but this one was just too cute to pass up. I also included one of the finished shots from her shoot. I love my job.

Hoshi, some sake, and a sheet

Saturday was my fourth drunk shoot. I drink, the model drinks. We aim to get drunk. This was no different.

Since I tend to overthink a lot of my shoots, every now and again shooting something with no planning can be a total blast. That's why I do these occasionally. It's just good to break out of your shell.

She showed up with a few bags, and a few outfits, and a bottle of sake. I cracked open some homebrew hard cider and we started. My favorite set from the night was this. One strobe, reflector only, pointed down at the blanket we were under. Roll around, go for the JBF hair, and just let the images flow.

Thanks Hoshi. This was our second shoot and I cannot wait to bring you back for our third.

Conceptual

I first discovered Hiroshi Nonami about two years ago. His work blew me away. The fact that none of it involved Photoshop made it that much more powerful in my eyes. Of course, I don't shoot film these days. I don't have a garden to bury my negs in if I did shoot film. I use my trusty Nikon DSLR and Photoshop CS4. In other words, if I want to create work inspired by Nonami, I get to cheat.




Here are two of my more recent pieces inspired by Nonami. I don't pretend that these have the same visual punch as his work, but I'm not trying to rip off anyone else's style. And all things considered, I'm pretty damn happy with them.

Shot with a Nikon D300 in my apartment in Dallas, TX.

Carolyn, some water, and a bag

I had an idea for a shoot. The idea was to create something that would make someone cringe a little. The problem was, in order to keep from hurting the model, I couldn't get the idea to pan out according to plan. So we changed gears a bit and just had some fun.

This was a quick shoot and I had some fun retouching the shots. I figured I would try to make each of them have a different feel. I'm pretty happy with the results.

Lana, a few more images

Instead of prattling on this time around, I'll simply post a few more photos from our shoot.








Thanks for being part of this Lana. I really appreciate you and the opportunity you gave me.

Lana - the Dreamer

A few weeks back I saw a casting call that caught my eye. Her name was Lana and she was was interested in shooting in a few traditional Indian outfits that she and her mother made. To be honest this woman had been on my wish list for months at this point, ever since I first saw images of her. There is an unmistakable energy to her that just draws a viewer to her face like the proverbial moth to a flame. I had to respond.

These two shots were finished ahead of schedule. I have other, older work that needs attention before I dive into Lana's images. But these two said something to me. And no matter how many times I try to put it to words, I keep failing.

The closest I have managed to come up with is this: I see them and feel a strange polarity. They bring me up and down at the same time. It's like flipping through an old yearbook and seeing smiling faces that you miss knowing. It's that sense of nostalgia that draws me to these photos. It's a feeling of sadness and freedom, at the same time, that I cannot seem to explain.

Here are a couple of shots from that day. Expect more as I have time to finish them.

Liz

A couple of years ago I had the pleasure of being brought to Mercy Wine Bar in Addison. A good friend of mine redesigned their website and introduced me to the bartenders, managers, and eventually the owners. Soon after I was given the opportunity to shoot some artwork for the place and suddenly I was part of the family.

Liz Williams is one of the managers up there. She sings, plays guitar, and writes music. Come to find out, she's good too. Over drinks recently she told me that it's time for a new chapter in her life. So she's moving to Austin. She has a few friends down there, I don't know anyone in Texas that doesn't know at least one person in Austin. Things are funny that way. But the difference with Liz is this: she has no idea where she will live, where she will work, or what she will do. It is a complete restart for her, and I couldn't be happier for her.

As a going-away-but-not-for-good present, I offered a shoot. This is one of my favorites from that morning.

The Big Daddy Band

www.thebigdaddyband.com Go there, check out their calendar, see them live, then thank me in the morning.

It is a rare cover band that can make me enjoy music that I really don't like. But these guys do it consistently. And they throw in some amazing songs that I do love in the mix to keep things fun. Picture a band starting with a ballad by Journey, moving on to a ballad by Bon Jovi, then flawlessly transitioning to Corey Hart's Sunglasses at Night. These guys are that good.

They play every Tuesday night at a local bar that I am slowly growing to love. I'm not one for the popped-collars, cutoff shorts, and flip-flops scene. But for the music and the people that are also there for the music, my week no longer feels the same without hearing them sing P* Control by Price or Jump by House of Pain.

Victoria

I love images that make me feel something. Maybe that's why I tend to show the stuff that's a little less-than-mainstream.

Don't get me wrong. I love simplicity in a photo as well. But there is just something about an image that sucks you in and trips your emotional responses. For this reason I tend to shy away from your basic "art nudes." To be honest, they usually bore the hell out of me. They are about lighting, form, shape, and shadow. I have the utmost respect for those that excel at that type of work. But it's just not something that gets my heart pumping.

So instead, I focus on feelings. We aren't always pretty. We aren't always healthy. We don't have a perfect day every single day. So instead of pretending the world is full of puppies, fluffy clouds, and fragrant flowers, let's experience the spectrum. Yes, we have good days. We even have AMAZING days. But the average day is just that: average. But here is the greatest part about an average day. It takes very little to push it towards either misery or bliss.

We feel things for a reason. If we cut our finger and thump it on something, it hurts. We are reminded to not do that again until we finish healing. It's a sort of internal positive and negative reinforcement training.

So why all the rambling about emotion? Because it's part of me. It's part of being human. Without the bad, the good just seems normal. That makes it bland. Without the good, the bad becomes commonplace. It is that balance we need to allow us to fully enjoy the wonderful and joyous moments of our lives while granting us the knowledge that even the most traumatic event will one day fade away. There might be a scar. There might not. But once it has passed, it is gone. And then it only leaves a small reminder to not smack our finger when we have an open cut on it.

The photo is of Victoria D and was shot last Saturday.

His Violin

This is my father's violin. He was a passionate violin player for most of his life.

Today we held his memorial. My mom will soon receive his ashes. In many ways, the missing string and the broken bridge represent his illness. The last time we remember him playing, it was unbroken. This leads us to think he tried at least one more time to play. We brought it to the funeral home and saw that it was broken. He either dropped it or damaged it when putting it away since no one else would have touched it. So the damage has now become part of the memory and I wouldn't have corrected it in Photoshop if my life depended on it.

This violin nearly gave him the chance to play with the Houston Symphony. Had he not injured his right arm earlier in life, I am convinced his name would now be part of their history.

Now he lays in storage, awaiting cremation. His urn has been delivered. Now we just wait for it to be ready to pick up, with his cremains locked inside.

This violin was a beautiful instrument when it was whole, just as my father was a wonderful man. I'm grateful that I knew him and I am grateful that I was given the opportunity to photograph his violin after he passed.

Rest in peace, Dad

Bruce Edward Hilson, my dad, was born on November 10, 1938. Come to find out, his mom changed his birth certificate to read 1938 so that he could start school a year sooner. It wasn't until he was in his 50's when this was discovered. Someone had erased the pencil-mark '9 and drew in, with different handwriting, an '8. Hey happy Birthday dad. You are actually a year younger than you thought you were your entire life.

He met my mom in Houston through a mutual friend telling them both "Oh you have to meet this guy/girl, you will really hit things off." The rest was history. They married soon, my mom became pregnant with me, two years later I had a sister.

I first noticed his illness about 15 years ago. His hand had a steady, uncontrollable but rhythmic twitch that only stopped when he was asleep. That eventually began to affect both hands, his walking, his speech, and his balance.

My sister quit her job and moved back home to help care for him a few years ago. Like my mom, her knees and back would begin to suffer from having to pick him up off the floor regularly.

He was never formally diagnosed, as he was terrified of hospitals and doctors. But there are only so many diseases with these symptoms. Mostly likely, it was Parkinson's. The dementia that started showing up occasionally a few years ago confirmed this to me.

I was at home tonight, retouching photos, and the phone rang. My mom was in tears, and asked me to come to the Plano Hospital. My father had just been taken away and he was no longer breathing.

The last time I had been to that hospital had to be nearly 25 years ago. I remember riding my bike up there to visit a friends sick parent. AJ's mom was released that night after we visited her. Someone moved my bike while we were inside. As I circled the building, I couldn't stop thinking about AJ and his mom. God, the shit we think about to distract ourselves what what we already know...

I parked in visitor parking. It was probably as far away from the emergency room as possible. But I was just in a sort of haze. It's like I was watching a movie of my life, and the screen was my own eyes. I wasn't participating, but the me that was playing me was following the script that had been rehearsed so many times over the years.

I found the emergency room in time for my mom, sister, and brother-in-law to come out of the room. My mom sobbed as she held me saying "He's gone. He's gone. They couldn't wake him up." I held her as I struggled to find my voice, I failed. All I could say was a barely audible whisper, "I know."

We spent the next hour, two hours... actually I don't know how long were were there. Time seemed to pass differently in the waiting room as people rushed in, told us the of the next step, and prepared us for the next person that would speak to us.

My dad will be cremated tomorrow or Friday. We will invite a few people over for a brief memorial. And when she's ready, my mom will scatter his ashes where she promised him she would.

It's been a rough decade. I remember my father being so tall and strong. His big hands would come down and scoop me up, tickling me with his beard as I giggled. He would carry me from the car at night after I fell asleep on long road trips. He helped me work on my first car. He was always there, with a smile, and a gleam in his eye that told me he loved me. I remember seeing him drool for the first time. My mom casually grabbed a paper towel to wipe off his beard. I remember picking him up for the first time when he fell while I was over there. I remember being angry because he was sick and unwilling to do anything about it. I remember when my world changed.

It's been a few years since I got over the anger. Both of his parents went to the hospital shortly before dying. In his mind, you only go to a doctor to die. How do you argue with that logic? We tried repeatedly and never succeeded. So then all we could do was keep him company, keep him fed, and try to keep him happy. It worked most of the time.

And now, as I sit here with tears falling down my cheeks, I can't help but remind myself that he is no longer suffering. He is no longer a prisoner in a failing body. I'm not the person to say if he is in a better place, I'm not particularly religious. But I do know that he is no longer scared of being home alone. He will no longer fall and bruise his knuckles. He will no longer need to be picked up, in the same way he used to pick me up when I was a baby.

He entered this world on the day he was born with his first breath. Tonight, after stubbornly holding on for years, he finally let go of that breath.

Rest in peace dad. I miss you and I will always love you.
Brian Edward Hilson
September 2nd, 2009

This was the final photograph I took of my dad. It was on Father's Day, 2009.

Polaroids

There is something magical about a Polaroid.

I remember being a kid and my parents would tell us to be careful with the Polaroid camera. It was expensive and so was the film. But, being a kid, I had no concept of money or value. We ended up with a lot of Polaroids of toes, cans in the fridge, and annoyed parental expressions. I will never forget learning that if you fanned a Polaroid it made the image appear faster. Come to find out, that wasn't true. Neither was this one: put a developing Polaroid in a fish tank. The fish-water will help it come out sharper and faster. I was so annoyed that we didn't have an aquarium after hearing this one. I wonder whatever happened to all those shots we took.

Fast forward 30 years and Polaroid has gone under. Film is all but gone and Digital is king. You still see Polaroid shooters around here and there, desperately clinging to their boxes of film, desperately hoping to read somewhere that Polaroid films are once again being produced.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed as well.




This is Morgan in a recently discovered field of flowers, walking distance from my apartment.

Good people, good hearts, GoodwillDallas.org

I was recently contacted to shoot some updated photos. Katie was the voice on the phone and Goodwill's Dallas distribution center was the place. Come to find out, they have had photographers come out regularly and it was time for another update. There was no way that I could say no.

I'll be honest. I really wasn't sure what Goodwill was about. Friends recommend shopping at their stores for cheap tableware, wardrobe for shoots, and various other knick-knacks. It's a great place for inexpensive stuff. Yeah... speaking with Katie while walking the halls opened my eyes on that one. Initially I was happy to help them out. After finding out the complete story, I was truly honored to be included.

Here are a few of the photos from that day. Also, be sure to hit up their Facebook page and say hi. These are great people.

New Blog, New Work, New Directions

I've had a few blogs throughout the years. They ranged from serving as a private emotional enema to very public how-to's on some of my work. Each of them had a specific purpose in mind when creating them. It's time to do something different.

I am a photographer located in Dallas, TX. My plan is to give a little insight into my shoots: the thoughts going into my various concepts; experiences while shooting; yadda yadda yadda... it's a blog. And with any luck, it will be at least moderately entertaining.

Thanks for reading, Brian