Hollywood, Iceland and things in-between.

På Gensyn.

2011-09-21T09:12:00.007-07:00

This is an indefinite hiatus post.

Ansel Adams wrote: "When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs; When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence."

I have a new website about to arrive online. It will speak for me. Otherwise, I too am content with silence.

If and when I do blog again, I will give my utmost, or I will give nothing. Things in-between are not worthy of the time of others. I want to respect that time, and wish others would respect mine in turn.

I can't avoid social networking anymore than I can deposit my cell phone in the ocean, so I will stay with facebook, but my goal is to make my posts as edifying as possible.

However it is interpreted, this stems from the sincere desire to only give and receive that which is of the highest value—things of substance, meaning and worth.

And this is hardly to say that I will avoid things funny and entertaining. Sometimes these are the most valuable things for a given moment. I'm so grateful for people who are funnier than I am. I need them. I'm often too heavy. And despite myself, I love to be entertained.

But for my part, I know what my strengths are—and I'm going to play to them.

These are my goals: To enlighten, to educate, to entertain, to inspire.

I am so blessed with my wife, children, work and friends. It's my goal to be everything I expect from the above. I'm very tired of being less than I could be, and this post has very much to do with frustration towards my own self.

So, in my endless imperfection, I strive for more.

wesley roy johnson.

My Heavens.

2011-05-16T15:41:00.002-07:00

I'm still alive. Honestly. People see me alive, so I have witnesses.

One of these days, I'd like to get to my Top 10 of 2010.

I think I'm running out of time.

I also need a technological revamp. I have a stills site, this and I'm shortly going to need a site for my cinematography. I can't decide whether to consolidate them, whether to destroy this blog forever, etc.

This was a good way of documenting my life, but I don't know anymore. I'm so absurdly sick of the greater blogging world that it's a very sour taste just to post a blog.

Also, call me Wesley.

Movember.

2010-11-21T10:10:00.002-07:00

I am officially inspired. Haven't decided which one is right for me, but I'll be presenting my Movember Mustache soon.

We Have a Winner

2010-10-30T11:35:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to MARILYN LOTT who won the Original Print Raffle!

ORIGINAL PRINT RAFFLE.

2010-10-26T08:28:00.016-07:00

I've always felt that making a film is like having a baby. It is so much more work than you could ever imagine — but in the end, it is worth all the frustration, anxiety and pain.

ORIGINAL PRINT RAFFLE —

In 72 hours, my fund-raising opportunity for my thesis film FIRELIGHT is over. We will be, as they call it, "budget locked." Whatever amount we have in the bank is what we will have to make the movie with.

The reality is that we are $1,500 short of what we absolutely need to make this film successful.

SO. In a last-push effort, I am doing something I've never done before: Offering an original print of my landscape photography in the form of a raffle.

What's in it for you:

I have chosen seven (7) of the very best of my landscape photographs. The winner of the raffle gets to chose any one (1) of the seven, which will then be professionally printed to current archival standards (chemical print, not inkjet) at the best lab here in Los Angeles. It will then be signed by me and shipped to your residence.

The print size will be circa 16x20" and will be pre-cut to a standard frame size, so that when you receive it, it's ready to be dropped in a frame and hung on your wall.

My usual price for a 16x20" original print is $500 USD. You have the opportunity to win one for a fraction of that price.

THE RULES:

In order to enter the raffle, go to our FIRELIGHT website and donate $25 USD to the film.

This is important:

In the box that says "A Note For Us" you must type "Original Print Raffle." This will enable us to know who is a part of the raffle.

This raffle begins now and ends in 72 hours.

The winner will be contacted on Friday, and I will publicly announce it on Facebook and my Blog here. When you've won, simply tell me which image you want, and you'll receive it within 2 weeks.

I hope you'll be excited about this opportunity. My prints have been collected and exhibited all over the world. Landscape photography is my great personal passion, and I love sharing my favorite places on earth with others. Trust me when I say that the physical prints put these internet copies to utter shame.

To enter the raffle, CLICK HERE.

If you've already donated to the film, thank you, but I hope you'll see this as a chance not only to help even more, but to get something special for yourself out of it as well.

Best of Luck — and please spread the word!

Sincerely,

wesley johnson.

Jónsi : Go / At The Wiltern

2010-10-19T08:27:00.003-07:00

On Sunday, Jónsi was in town.

Do I need to remind anyone who he is?

Anyway. I did some time-lapse work of the show, which was inarguably the best concert I've ever seen (the second place being U2's Vertigo tour, if that's any measure).

You're welcome to check it out. PLEASE full screen it:

JÓNSI AT THE WILTERN

Hope you enjoy it, few followers and random passers-by.

wes.

FIRELIGHT

2010-09-25T14:29:00.003-07:00

For my few followers—

I'm in the throes of creating what may accurately be called the biggest production of my life to date (next to my actual life, to date).

And in order to make this film a success, we have to raise money. In this economy. We're actually doing quite well, and are in the last push towards meeting our goals.

In the next 7 days, I need to bring in another $3,500. That is a lot of money, but we can get there a little bit at a time.

You have no idea how much a $20 will do—how far it will go.

And perhaps the best part: However much you donate, it's fully deductible on your taxes.

Whoever might bump into this post, I ask you to go to our website, and if can throw me some generosity—I can't say how much it will mean.

Join my Fathers (both biological and marital), my good friend Andrew Bagley, and many others who believe in the film—and more importantly, the filmmakers.

In advance, thank you so much. PLEASE help me spread the word. Here is the link:

FIRELIGHT.

It's going to be a great little film.

wes.

go quiet

2010-08-05T17:38:00.002-07:00

Last weekend I saw the premiere of a wonderful little film, which captured a singularly beautiful experience: Jónsi singing his album GO, unplugged--as it were.

Just Jónsi and an instrument. A guitar with 3 strings; An old recorder from the 80s; a piano of unknown origin.

It's a simple concept, but a near-religious effect when experienced.

I couldn't recommend it more. You can get the DVD at Amoeba here in LA, or online.

You can watch the trailer here.

wes.

Post Script--Since I first posted about GO several months ago, it's since become arguably the most beloved album in my musical life, which is to say my life in whole. If anyone in the sound of this blog hasn't given it a serious listen, then do. GO DO.

Along with Sigur Rós the album TAKK, I consider it a musical masterpiece.

the case for INCEPTION.

2010-07-05T17:18:00.004-07:00

Next week, my most anticipated film of 2010 will be released. This post is meant to convince anyone who reads it to go and see the movie--in the theater--during the next month.

First, if you haven't seen these spots, please give them a look.

Here's the trailer:

And the Featurette:

I am not just shamelessly plugging a favorite filmmaker; I have a vested interest in this type of filmmaking, and its continued funding by major studios.

There are 3 reasons why I am asking everyone to see this film:

1. The "RE" factor.

We are living in a cinematic world of remakes, retools, revamps and regurgitations. Among the major studios, it is all but impossible for a new, original idea to surface on the other side of this current gauntlet--and if it's a tentpole film (one of the few main films of a given year that actually keeps a studio afloat through massive profit), then you can absolutely forget about singularities. So, in a real way, it makes a big-budget film like INCEPTION quite a gamble for a studio.

2. 2D over 3D:

And that's a perfect segue into why the fact that INCEPTION is not a 3D film is also exceptional. Studios love 3D for two reasons: One, you pay several more dollars per ticket to see 3D. Second, 3D is (for the time being) is not subject to piracy in the way 2D films are.

And it is being shoved down our throats--whether it works or not (mostly not); whether it's motivated by the type of movie (the STORY) or not; whether you want it or not.

I shouldn't have to search the entire city of LA to find TOY STORY in 2D so that I can take my 3-year-old son. That's a demographic they haven't considered: kids who hate to wear glasses--or adults that hate to wear glasses on top of their glasses (me).

STORY. Story is what matters, and 3D is being used to disguise bad storytelling--just like dazzling special effects are often employed to do the same (cough--TRANSFORMERS--cough). And while INCEPTION may appear to be an obvious candidate for 3D, it relies on in-camera effects and the power of storytelling to carry the audience.

One last thought on "3D." I have never seen a 3D film that felt more realistic to me. In fact, quite the opposite: I am constantly reminded that I'm in a movie, and I feel myself completely inhibited, when all I want to do is lose myself in the story, in the characters, in the world of that film. Even AVATAR, with its impressive technology--after watching it, I firmly believed I would have enjoyed it in 2D every ounce as much.

I am not anti-3D. I've enjoyed films in 3D. But to me, it feels like a novelty, and it's not the way I want to experience 9.9 out of every 10 films I see.

3. FILM:

The highest resolution imagery; the highest latitude ratio from highlights to shadows; the most organic and realistic mode of capturing an image. FILM.

Amid the pressures to "go digital" there is a camp of filmmakers that know that film capture is the still the best way to make a movie. INCEPTION is captured on a variety of cameras and formats, but mostly on anamorphic 35mm and large-format 70mm film.

And you will see the difference.

What digital can offer in post is truly incredible. It's my belief that the most potential comes from the hybrid of what capturing on film offers, and the amazing possibilities of utilizing digital in post.

Bless Chris Nolan and Wally Pfister for refusing to compromise. And Warner Brothers will thank them in 25 years, when all the hard drives have crashed, and the original negative is still sitting cozy in its vault--ready to be scanned in 12K resolution for the latest BLURAY/GREENRAY/REDRAY/whatever system is around at that time.

Please see this film--IN THE THEATER. There really is nothing like the silver screen.

I think it's going to be the best film of the year.

wes.

a gift given.

2010-07-03T23:02:00.006-07:00

"Such is my situation that, if I were to wish the bitterest curse to an enemy on this side of the grave, I should put them in my stead, with my feelings."

--George Washington, September, 1776

Last week, I finished my 4th reading of 1776, By David McCullough.

I don't have much else to say than this book should be mandatory literature for every American. It paints the picture of the Revolution in its truest light, and will inevitably generate humility and gratitude in every person who reads it.

My reading it four times does not compensate for three people not reading it once. So, if you haven't, read it.

Thanks to David for this work, and thanks to everyone that has made my life possible--soldier and citizen alike--because I love my life.

jónsi : go

2010-04-07T13:28:00.005-07:00

Know me well and you know that I am musically married to Sigur Rós.

Their Front Man, Jón Þór Birgisson, released a solo album yesterday.

It's called "go."

It's not Sigur Rós--and I am so bent on Icelandic that the English hurts--but there is some truly wonderful work in the album.

...and fortunately, Jónsi is so Icelandic, that most of the lyrics are unintelligible anyway, and they get lost in the beauty of his voice--and it is full of that.

"Sinking Friendships," "Grow Till Tall," and "Hengilás" are good places to start.

Here's the link where you can listen to the album in its entirety.

GO

wes.

PS--Sigur Rós is the most beautiful, relevant and important music ever made.

Top 10 of 2009

2010-03-09T11:20:00.007-07:00

You'll note that neither The Hurt Locker nor Avatar make it anywhere near my list. As the Oscars have just wrapped and we look forward to a year chock-full of 3D Movies, I figured I'd weigh in on the films that really matter.

Here are my favorite films of 2009. It was not the best year for film, but a couple of these (including my #1) will be favorite films of mine for years and years to come.

Two words: Wes Anderson. Two more words: Stop-Motion. Original, creative, refreshing. Though I must admit, as my favorite Director, I can't wait for him to step back into live action.

We watched this with Jason Reitman, and maybe that's swayed me, but I think it's a very witty film and I like the subject matter. As genres go, it's certainly unique and surprisingly timely. George Clooney is endlessly entertaining.

Go Jeff. A long overdue award for one of the better actors of our time. Love this man.

This 70s-esque crime caper is so enjoyable, playful and clever that it almost hurts. If it didn't drag so much in the 2nd act, it'd be higher on my list. A must see.

Joel and Ethan, and Roger Deakins. Enough said. It's not No Country, but it's pretty damn great.

I love this film for its creative approach to very sensitive social matters.

Yeah. So, this is the most underrated, overlooked film of the year. Of course tons of people saw it, but I am referring to the Oscars and Globes. I am not a trekky, and this film has absolutely blown me away. JJ Abrams took on an enormous challenge, and delivered in the most satisfying way. Yes, some of the dialogue gets hokey, but that's Star Trek and there's nothing for it.

STAR TREK IS THE MOST PERFECTLY PHOTOGRAPHED FILM OF 2009. How Dan Mindel didn't win Best Cinematography is beyond me. Watch it for the beauty of Anamorphic, the insanity of the Steadicam work, and the total confidence and boldness with the lighting. Truly inspiring photography.

The reason I love this film is because I expected to hate it. But the power of Quentin's pen cannot be denied. To undertake a foreign film period-piece, with multiple languages—coupled with the sheer audacity to rewrite history, not to mention one of the best opening scenes I've ever seen—makes this an unexpected and very welcome surprise from Tarantino. It's a shame he didn't win best screenplay, but Chris Waltz took it—and deserved it! His performance in this film is the best performance of the year.

Speaking of incredible performances—when is Viggo going to get his due? This film is incredibly powerful in so many ways. Yes, it's painful and highly depressing, but that's the point. It's touching and I loved it. The photography is also off the chain.

Best film of the year. What else to say? Makes the vampire genre feel as if it's just been created. SO deft and subtle, so moving and heartfelt while remaining horrible and frightening. It's revolutionary.

That's all for now. Please let me know what you loved, if it's not on my list.

wes.

PS—Films I've yet to see that may eventually alter the list:

The White Ribbon (I hear incredible things about this one)

Precious

An Education

powerlinerflyers.

2010-02-17T12:16:00.002-07:00

Hundreds of thousands of videos were posted onto Vimeo in 2009. I am proud to be one of 25 that were selected as the best of the year.

Click Here for the Link.

Looking back, it's truly remarkable that a split-second decision has produced such an overwhelming response from people all over the world. Millions of people have been moved and affected by this very simple natural display, which I am fortunate enough to lay claim to. I've been contacted by people in Russia, Vietnam, England, etc. who've wanted to use the film and to share with it with others. That makes me feel very good. It makes me think that I've done something that matters, and that this is exactly what I need to keep doing.

I lay claim to being the one person—of thousands who were driving by these moments—to turn around, go back, and document it. Yes, a bit of photographic training certainly helped, but it's more that I reacted, then acted. I saw something that others didn't. I stopped. I rolled on it. That's my part. Small, but essential.

I think these things are around us every day, and that it's a matter of Fovea: It's a matter of taking the periphery of life (the beautiful, but unappreciated things) and making them the center of our gaze. That's what I think.

We take much for granted. I was shooting on the coast over the weekend—Long Beach—and the beach was lined with piles of trash, that had washed up to the shore and was being bulldozed in preparation to head to the landfill. But people were there, just playing with their children in mercury-infested, highly contaminated water. This is the same principle I'm getting at: We're oblivious to too much—both positive and negative. We put our immediate circumstance over the greater good. Constantly.

Look for your version of birds on a wire, find your own way to interpret it, and share it.

wes.

m.o.s.

2010-02-10T19:59:00.003-07:00

Here's a (rough) cut of my 2009 MOS project for AFI. This shoot is a pretty big deal, and I had an entirely different concept that was 86'd by Film LA three days before my shoot(!)

So, what do we do? We regroup. We re-conceive. And fortunately, things fell into place, and it's not entirely terrible. I like it, anyway.

The password is "mos"

CLICK HERE.

We're in preproduction for my Cycle II, which shoots in 2 weeks. It's a period piece (1964) about a serial killer and a teenage girl, and I have high hopes for it.

More to come.

Cycle II

2010-02-02T16:46:00.006-07:00

At 3:38 this morning, I was soaked to my underwear by omni-directional sprinklers in an attempt to rescue two 4x8' Floppies from being ruined by the water.

That moment came at the end of a 13-hour day, which came at the end of a 3-day production called "Director's Cut" (a spoof on a horror film). I was the Camera Operator--and very pleased to be. No one worked harder on set (though I'll say that James Adolphus worked every ounce as hard) and for my personal growth, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Operating in and of itself is very mentally and physically taxing: Guaranteed, it's the most awkward positions that create the best compositions. And to boot, we were hand-held literally the entire production, which meant that I was the human tripod--whether we were speeding or not. Initial framing, blocking, rehearsing and shooting--all the time the camera was in my hands.

It was not easy on the ol' back, which has somewhat healed, but reminds me with a continual dull pain of the ever-present threat of a history repeating itself. I'm being smart (or trying to) with my exercise and eating, so as to avoid that at all costs.

But it was challenging and exciting, and working that hard means you're never bored--and the days go by pretty quickly. I gained so much confidence in the last 3 days that I feel like I've doubled my ability as an Operator. It's so hard, great operating, that you can't even imagine until you try it. Timing moves with an actor requires more 'performance' than you'd ever suspect a crew member would need. The real challenges are sitting and standing up, and leading someone properly as they walk, especially on the Z axis. Sounds pretty simple, to tilt up or down with someone as they stand/sit? Try it! Try it on a long lens. Try to keep yourself from anticipating their movement, and going too early--or worse, being too late! These days, my biggest pet peeve is an Operator who let's an Actor's head dip out of frame they stand up. Not only does it look sloppy, but you're instantly reminded that you're watching a movie, not a story.

This means that, sometimes, I am my own pet peeve. But I had lots of practice this weekend, and now I can lead a leading lady into her seat on a plate of butter.

Don't ask me to explain that. But the key is confidence. It's simple, but you just have to work the camera, and not let it work you. If it knows that you know what you're doing, it'll serve you perfectly. Be the jib. Be the boom.

So I got home around 4am, had a half-portion of Crispix with a banana and blueberries, watched part of a movie, then went to bed at 5.

At 9am, Finn woke me up, and I made him breakfast, and I had a full portion of Crispix with a banana and blueberries. Then did the dishes, because I love my wife.

I shoot week 6 of Cycle II, then week 1 of Cycle III. That's a 2-week turnaround between shows. It's a lot. I can't wait. I freaking love film and filmmaking. We had Conservatory week recently with Bruce Block, in which we really broke down the screen and storytelling on it. It was outstanding.

My current experience is full of stress, anxiety, frustration and doubt. But, interesting in their irony is how much all of those things induce real, palpable growth.

I'm also learning Icelandic--can't remember if I've mentioned that, because it's pretty personal and I'm holding certain cards close to the chest--but it's going great. Danish helps.

It's a nice break from pre-production. I'm also reading the Sagas of the Icelanders, and I cannot get enough. Egil's Saga is so full of valor, brutality and super-human strength that it borders on mythology. But if the history is half-true, then those Vikings of the North were like nothing our generation knows.

I am prone to believe it, and I am easily lost in the romance of that poetic account.

We screened THE ROAD with its Cinematographer on Friday. He didn't speak a word of English, but I got more out of that forum than I did with any other yet this year.

PEOPLE: Go to movies. See them in the theater. Never forget what that feels like.

THE WOLFMAN is next. See you at the Arclight.

wes.

Death Valley.

2010-01-06T11:54:00.004-07:00

This is my favorite image of the trip:

Hard to describe how many thousands of footprints I had to pass before I could start making my own. It was worth it.

I need these trips. They are the only fuel my soul will tolerate for rejuvenation.

Happy New Year.

wes.

Happy Jul.

2009-12-20T14:01:00.005-07:00

(Like any good production, it was hell to make, but only shines in the end.)

May your holidays find you with good food and in better company.

wes.

Worst Blogger Ever; Roger Deakins; Happy Holidays.

2009-12-13T16:09:00.006-07:00

I think I may be the worst Blogger...ever.

ROGER DEAKINS.

Pound for Pound, Product for Product, there's very few Cinematographers who compare with Roger Deakins. His work is not fast or flashy, it is not techy or trendy. It is subtle, thoughtful, and extremely sophisticated. Often, it's pushing perfection.

What's more: As a person, there's no one more generous, more understated. He simply does great work, avoids the fanfare, and gives back to the photographic community in a way I've never seen in another Cinematographer--certainly not of his status.

So, to learn that he was coming to AFI for a screening and Q+A was quite literally a dream come true.

The only thing that stank about the circumstance is that AFI went to the trouble to take a poll over which film we wanted to screen with him. I am certain that either JESSE JAMES, or NO COUNTRY was the film of choice, but for reasons that I'm sure are political, we screened A SERIOUS MAN.

It's not that it's a bad film—it's the Coen Brothers, therefore it's quite the opposite—but it's not Roger's best work. It's not the kind of story that emotes memorable, powerful imagery. Well photographed, no doubt, but not singular in the way that Roger's other work can be.

No Country for Old Men is in my top 5 films of all time. It is one of the 3 films that I consider to be Cinematic Perfection. I would not change one thing about it. That is really, really saying something: A perfect film.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is pure photographic poetry. Its style is wonderfully tailored to the story, and there's nothing better a DP can do than to visually support the narrative in every way. It's paced, deliberate, haunting imagery—and it's endlessly interesting.

But, though we didn't get the best movie, it became moot in comparison with Roger's presence, which somehow in and of itself was enough. He literally could have sat there and said nothing, and I would have walked away inspired.

But he said more than nothing. He spoke of collaboration and philosophy, techniques and tastes. And it was all gold. I'm not going to go into more details on that—sorry if this disappoints—but that's not what this post is about. Because I think Deakins is the best example of what every artist needs to learn: Be true to the story that's being told.

I think, ideally, we're all a part of something that's bigger than ourselves, yet somehow can't reach its full potential without the individual. A great film is the ultimate embodiment of that. I think Roger is the truest of collaborators, and that's what I admire so much about him.

When asked about why he says yes to a project, Roger simply said:

"I ask myself if I'd pay money to see the movie. If the answer is yes, then I do it."

I love that more than I can say. What he's saying, indirectly, is that he is moved upon by the story—that he is motivated to do a project in the way that a camera is motivated to move: not of its own accord, but because the moment makes it so.

wes.

(Happy Holidays.)

Back by Demand; Demand by Back.

2009-11-22T12:01:00.002-07:00

Week 7 of 7. Seven weeks of 13 hour days, 7 days a week. Not a single day off. This is AFI.

And yet, here I sit. I should not be sitting here. I should be on set. I want to be on set. I want to be there for my friends. I want to get as much experience as possible.

But these 7 weeks have taken their toll. When I woke up yesterday, I was in a deal of discomfort in my lower back. At 7am, I was at the Depot, buying a back brace, hoping it would carry me through a day of Key Gripping. The Key Grip is a major part of any set, and there are few on set who work harder. It's tough, physical work: Laying and leveling dolly track, then dolly gripping; carrying stands of varying sizes and weights; flags, scrims, silks, frames, bead board, muscle carts, gennys, stingers; loading and unloading the grip truck every day.

Take a day of that on top of 6.5 weeks of build up, add one back at the tipping point of failure, and you get one horrific night.

I came home and did something I never do: Take a bath. Not that I don't clean myself—I'm just a shower guy. But a hot bath sounded good for the back. Of course, Finn had to join me as soon as he found out—despite recently having a bath himself.

A hot bath had the opposite effect of its intention. All I can say is it set a fire in my back like I've never felt. I could literally barely get myself out 10 minutes later, and what followed was one of the worst nights I've ever had in my life. It was excruciating pain, to the point that breathing hurt, and every movement induced a stabbing pain on either side of my spine. I crawled to bed, hoping that a horizontal could lend relief. It couldn't.

I kept saying "what have I done to myself?" I was genuinely frightened.

It took everything in me just to roll over. What a ridiculous thing! To roll over. But it did. The thought of the hospital at Midnight was more terrible than just laying there, so I found a position that induced the least amount of pain, and Lyndsay coached me to sleep with Lamaze breathing. I fell asleep. Woke up out of my 'position' in total pain, when back to my position. Repeat 5-7 times throughout the night. And.....morning. Still hurting intensely.

Urgent Care. Calls to my ER technician Brother. Prescriptions ordered. Now I have an appointment with a holistic chiropractor at 12:30. Fingers crossed.

I am letting my friends down. I should be on set. But this is beyond my control.

Please, body. I am trying to be good to you. Stick with me. We have a long road ahead of us.

wes.

(PS—Someone remind me to talk about Roger Deakins and Jason Reitman)

PS: WTWTA

2009-09-29T00:35:00.003-07:00

PS — If you're not planning on seeing THIS film, then I highly encourage you to change your mind.

OCTOBER 16.

In the Thick of It.

2009-09-28T23:12:00.012-07:00

I think I lost a follower. Serves me right, I guess. But this time I think it's omission, not commission—as I haven't published a post in.......forever.

The thing about six 12-14 hour days a week is that you're left with very little time...

But here I sit, determined to document—at least in some detail—my current experience.

It's been a month and change since I started at AFI; it's been the most potent month of my life. That's honestly why it's been so hard to sit and write: there's SO much to say that I am overwhelmed by the mere thought of actually writing it down.

It is a whole other level of busy, this new life, and it is literally the continual, perpetual and endless absorption of film and filmmaking into my system, via all 5 senses. To help reinforce that statement, let me give a partial list of the films I've watched in the last month:

— THE GODFATHER II
— UP!
— HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
— LOST IN TRANSLATION
— ED WOOD
— DISTRICT 9
— PRINCESS NICOTINE
— EDISON'S KINETOSCOPES
— 21 GRAMS
— CINEMATOGRAPHER STYLE (Super 35mm Print)
— AMELIE (also known as the greatest film ever made)
— MANHATTAN (35mm Anamorphic Print)
— INGLORIOUS BASTERDS
— KNIFE IN THE WATER
— INTOLERANCE
— EXTRACT
— 500 DAYS OF SUMMER
— THOSE AWFUL HATS
— THE REDMAN’S VIEW
— DELICATESSEN
— COCO BEFORE CHANEL
— MILLION DOLLAR BABY
— WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH OUR OLD?

And that's to say nothing of the texts I've read (books, scripts, etc), the hours and hours of lectures, and fieldtrips.

We've been visited by Steven Soderbergh (regardless of how I feel about his films, I have enormous respect for him as a filmmaker) and several other important filmmakers, including the Costume Designer for Raiders of the Lost Ark (and while she was lecturing, the CD for INCEPTION dropped in to say hello); the Writer of WALK THE LINE; the Writer of DOG DAY AFTERNOON; this old-school Script Supervisor who's been working in Hollywood since the 1940's (take that in for a moment). Last week we screened EXTRACT with its Cinematographer, Tim Suhrstedt (who shot LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE). Not a life-changing film, but funny, and a good experience with Tim.

This was my day on Friday last: Viewed our Boot Camp Dailies for a couple of hours, went to COCO BEFORE CHANEL at the Arclight, then crewed on a Walgreen's TV Spot with Doug Chamberlain (a solid DP and good friend) where we shot a Night Exterior on the Warner Bros Ranch in Burbank:

The big sphere in front of the house is actually a giant light filled with helium—a Light Balloon. Believe it or not, this is a small one at 12'x12'. And that's an 18K HMI in the top right of the screen—that's 18,000 Watts—a bit more than your typical household bulb.

And lastly, the house in the back is where they filmed I Dream of Jeannie.

Ah, nostalgia. Hollywood's full of it.

It is a life where you pass by the Warner Brothers and Disney Lots every day on the way to class; where the Hollywood Sign and Blvd (though never the people on it) are becoming quite ordinary; where you see celebrities—and it's just not that big a deal; where the headquarters of PANAVISION, KINO FLO and JL FISHER are literally 5 minutes from my house; a world where the most talented people in an industry are all living and pursuing their dreams together. It's a world that I am very comfortable in.

Yes, there are tainted souls. Yes, there are leaches and vampires (we're into metaphors here). Yes, it's an unbelievable amount of work and subsequent exhaustion. But it's exactly where I want to be, for now, and exactly what I want to do with my life. I am so proud—so very fortunate—to call myself a Cinematography Fellow at AFI. It's the genesis to the rest of my life.

This week we shot Boot Camp, which was a single scene from our Cycle 1 script—in 4 hours. It was very doable, but also very challenging. It was brilliant. Then yesterday we met with John Bailey, ASC at The Getty Center, where we viewed the Irving Penn exhibition:

As well as other original works of art, like this Renaissance Gem:

The Angel Taking Leave of Tobit and His Family, by Jan Victors, 1649.

SIXTEEN FORTY-NINE. Unreal. It just glowed. You can't imagine how beautiful the original is.

OK. I think that's a good hour's effort in making up for the last month.

But one more thing:

I want to give the first official, written praise for my wife, who is quite literally making this possible for me. She sustains—with an incredible effort—the life we've made while I go off and pursue this dream. She puts up with sleep deprivation, comforts a screaming toddler and nurses a baby; she cleans, she cooks, she does laundry and somehow still finds time to design blogs, sites and scrapbook papers. She is the real Wonder Woman. I cannot thank her enough for her sacrifice and support. No one knows how good she is to and for me.

But I do. Lyndsay Ward, I love you.

wesman.

My favorite Sign.

2009-09-07T22:14:00.003-07:00

I don't know about the rest of Europe, but this is a very common sign in Scandinavia. When I lived in Denmark, it became a friend, and during my trip to Iceland, it became my favorite.

No words. Just a simple graphic that indicates you're leaving the city limits.

It's my kind of design: minimal, succinct, and charming (note the church).

And when you're in Iceland, it means "Adventure Ahead."

wes.

(yes, I am still lost in Iceland--if only in my mind)

D-9

2009-08-25T14:56:00.004-07:00

I saw DISTRICT NINE over a week ago, but thought I'd throw up a couple thoughts on it anyway.

If you can withstand a number of F-bombs, it is very much worth seeing. It's an uncannily clever way of approaching a very sensitive social topic: To replace humans with aliens so that we can address issues of human rights, refugee camps, political turmoil and crime--without having to name names.

It's this storytelling device of such metaphors--these cloaks as vehicles for addressing things that would be too offensive/sensitive/blatant if they were addressed directly--that I've been really keen on lately. It's an incredibly effective tool.

Any knowledge of Africa's current situation will help you see past the aliens, and into the issues.

Well done.

wes.

ICELAND + WJP

2009-08-23T15:57:00.002-07:00

Five days.

One Thousand Seven Hundred and Sixty-Two Miles.

Twenty Photographs.

Ísland.

I'm going to write about it soon, but for now I'll let images speak for me.

The Iceland Portfolio is up.

Access it HERE.

wes.

wes grylls.

2009-08-12T19:50:00.002-07:00

This is really awful.

Wes Grylls

wes.

Jökulsárlón

2009-08-12T18:53:00.003-07:00

I stitched a pano together for my many followers (all 18, and all 3 of you that actually read, and all one of you that actually cares).

You definitely need to click for the larger version, but even it does zero justice to this place.

Undoubtedly one of the most overwhelmingly phenomenal places on the planet.

I got a couple absolute gems, but am not gonna post them here. Saving for an Iceland Portfolio on my website (that's how many singular shots I'm getting; this place is a perpetual photograph)

wes.

Fjörds and Stones.

2009-08-10T18:40:00.003-07:00

Two More. I'm giving too much away here, but I can't help my excitement over these.

Thank You, Island.

(click on the image for LARGE, beautiful versions)

Fire + Ice.

2009-08-09T12:44:00.002-07:00

So much to say, but not now.

Mountain Tiers, near Reykholt, Iceland.

I am in heaven.

wes.

THE COVE.

2009-08-01T16:17:00.007-07:00

Last night I saw the premiere of a film called

Let me be succinct. It's the kind of film that, when the credits roll, you ask yourself:

"What the hell am I doing with my life? How can anything be more important than this?"

Then, 30 seconds later—still livid, but more lucid—you think about the many paradoxes of our time. This is one of them.

THE COVE is a story about a few things: A man named Ric O'Barry, a highly corrupt Japanese Government, and the tragedy of the annual slaughter of 23,000 dolphins in a small town in Japan.

Now, let me elaborate:

Ric is a fascinating character. A world-renowned dolphin trainer-turned activist. He trained dolphins for the television show "Flipper" in the 60s. That show turned dolphins into world-wide spectacles of adoration and interest.

Speaking of his pet dolphin Cathy--the star of the TV show--Ric tells this story:

How did your ideas about captivity turn around?
Cathy died in my arms, of suicide. It was just before Earth Day, 1970. The next day, I found myself in a Bimini jail, trying to free a dolphin for the first time. I completely lost it.

How do you know it was suicide?
You have to understand, dolphins are not automatic air breathers like we are. Every breath for them is a conscious effort. She looked me right in the eye, took a breath, held it — and she didn’t take another one. She just sank to the bottom of the water. That had a profound effect on me.

From that moment on, Ric has spent his life freeing dolphins from captivity.

What might start out as "oh, the poor dolphins" quickly turns into a case of very real, very frightening relevance for everyone on the planet.

THE COVE shows—quite successfully—that dolphins are very much like you and me. They have a self-awareness and intelligence that reflects and in some cases exceeds our own. The film goes specifically into their communication skills and their incredible sonar capability, which makes our most advanced technology look like a Cracker-Jack toy.

And that when a baby dolphin is killed in front of its mother, its mother cries out in agony.

Here's the general facts, then you just need to see the film.

--Dolphins (and whales, and all oceanic mammals) are incredibly intelligent. On some moral level, it's wrong to kill them or keep them captive. They're not "just fish."

--Dolphins are sold for up to 150K a piece to places like Sea World, Aquariums, etc. This is what makes the industry to kill them profitable.

--Why? Because no one eats dolphin meat. It isn't a part of the Japanese culture to do so, and what's infinitely worse:

--Dolphin meat is LACED with mercury. Whereas the maximum lawful allowance for mercury in fish meat is 4 parts per million, dolphin meat has been measured at 22,000 parts per million.

Now, whether we have sympathy for captive dolphins or not, we cannot deny that it is genocide to permit people to consume any such type of food. And the Japanese government has dolphin meat re-labeled as other types of meat so that people think they're buying one thing and actually getting another---and the other happens to be something that will cause their newborn children to have massive birth defects, including blindness, deafness, severe brain damage and so on.

A few years ago, the government in Japan tried to make dolphin meat a mandatory part of every lunch at every school in the country.

--Why? Because they're running out of other fish--because, as they say, the dolphins are eating all the fish! So, kill the pests (dolphins) and eat them in the meantime.

And we haven't even started with the IWC and how Japan buys off entire countries' votes so that they can continue to whale and slaughter dolphins.

I am done. There is so much shit that goes on in this world, and I know we all have moments where we want to throw our hands up and say "forget it--it's useless." From corporate corruption to world hunger, and everything in between.

But I think that we all need to keep each other in check. And Japan needs to be put in check. Selling dolphins to Sea World is one thing--slaughtering thousands needlessly and feeding their poisoned meat to children is another.

This is one of SO many issues--and paradoxical ones--because my son at Sea World is the happiest child on the planet.

So, do we stop going to Sea World? To the Monterey Aquarium? To Zoos? Are all people who work at these places and claim to love animals complete hypocrites? During the Q and A with the filmmakers afterwords, I posed a similar question. You can't imagine the reaction of the audience. I was the enemy.

Well, I don't feel that way. I believe those places and people do genuine good. I believe with all of my heart that God wants us to experience Nature. Zoos and Aquariums make it possible for millions of people to experience something they never otherwise would be able to. And that is good.

But their programs are not perfect, and we need to be continually improving on how we treat other species on this planet—especially the ones who save our lives when a shark is out to eat us.

Here's the coolest thing I've seen in a while.

wes.

The Hurt Locker.

2009-07-28T21:44:00.004-07:00

Just a quick post to state that I do not share the excitement of the Critics over this film:

Saw it Saturday. I was skeptical, but hopeful.

Skeptical, because how many Middle-Eastern War films have we seen in the last 6 years? Too many to count. And after the first few, you'd pretty much seen them all.

Hopeful, because every single review (professional and otherwise) I'd read about it was one of total praise and elation.

Disappointed, because The Hurt Locker is simply a new verse of a song that was getting old about 15 verses ago. Sure, the idea of following the bomb squad was appealing in parts, but when the credits rolled, I was empty.

First and worst, the film promotes this completely horrible, contradictory message: That leaving our families to defend their freedoms leads to our addiction to conflict and alienation of our loved ones.

That the protagonist's love for defusing bombs outweighed his love for his wife and son is, in my opinion, an unforgivable promotion.

And I must add that the camera work was AWFUL. Good gravy, Camera Ops, we do NOT zoom in and out--while rolling--during coverage on dialogue! I was so aware of the man behind the camera that I was taken completely away from the story.

Overall message: War absolutely sucks. Death sucks.

I did get the usual appreciation for the fact that I don't live in Iraq, but I can get that for a lot less than $14.50 (the going rate to see a film at the Arclight).

On a more positive note, I just reserved my seat for The Cove. And even though the subject matter is just as horrific as war, I think the angle is MUCH more validated. Let's free the dolphins. Not to mention there's a Q and A with the filmmakers afterwords. Can't wait.

wes.

In a word: Classic.

2009-07-24T20:03:00.008-07:00

The past several years of my life have been INJECTED with cinema. Eat it, breath it, drink it, dream it. I have watched so many films that I feel like I'm starting to forget more than some ever see. I've considered it my duty and, dare I say it, my pleasure...

There are certainly films that I've struggled through, but felt obligated to watch. Fortunately, they are the exception more than the rule.

The reason I'm posting this is because, even as a filmmaker, I have not been a lover of the "Classics" in cinema. This is straight-up blasphemy to some people, I know. But let me clarify when I say that I absolutely know them, appreciate them, respect them—it's just that, for the most part, my passion plays to more current styles and subject matters of filmmaking. I am, you may well say, a product of my generation. I think many of the best films ever are being made during my lifetime, and I am very proud of that.

(there's also an enormity of excrement, but amidst the coals are some true gems)

But again, the REASON that I am writing this post is to say: After viewing dozens of them, I am elated to report that I've found real love for some "classics" and I want to promulgate it.

Obviously, there's "Citizen Kane." Like many people, my first viewing of the picture did not leave me with that "this is the greatest movie ever made" feeling. But, subsequently, after watching all the DVD disc II extras (SO important to do, even before your first viewing), and seeing the film several times since, I agree that it's the most incredible cinematic achievement of all time. It's a terribly important film, too--especially for those in the Industry--and not to mention some of the best Cinematography ever put on celluloid.
So, here's to you, Orson.

In the past, I've struggled with Westerns. Being from the heart of the Southwest, I've never really appreciated how it was portrayed. An example of this is "The Searchers." I just didn't care for the movie in the least. Tedious, stereotypical, theatrical. Sorry, but that's how I feel.

But watching "Unforgiven" was a different experience.

Man, do I love Gene Hackman. Really one of the great actors of our time. Clint Eastwood is a legend, but the best move he ever made was to become a Director. He is a good actor, but he is a GREAT director.

And, again, with "Unforgiven," it's more modern filmmaking. More realistic, more veristic.

The last one I'll mention for this post is what I call my "most pleasant surprise" among the classics. Having been disappointed with a number of them, I decided to give it another go with

CASABLANCA.

What a wonderful film! From start to end, I enjoyed this film. It is gorgeously photographed and Art Directed, so if my eyes are in, the rest of me is in. And Humphrey's performance is stellar. So cool. It is one of very few Studio System films that I could watch again and again. A must see, if you've never.

I just wrote about The Godfather Part II, but I want to say again that it's one of the most remarkable films I've ever, ever seen. What an AMAZING achievement.

On that note: How fantastic is this image? What a legacy.

I want to end by saying that I welcome ANY and ALL recommendations of films you've seen and loved--especially the classics, as I am trying to fully verse myself.

My thing is this: I can't see EVERY film. So I want to see the best films made, and spend the rest of my time making the best films to come.

wes.

Radio Bikini.

2009-07-24T00:45:00.002-07:00

Just watched a Doc called "Radio Bikini." Hard to help feeling a bit overwhelmed by the potential of Mankind, for better and for much, much worse.

After we killed a couple hundred thousand Japanese and ended WWII—indeed, it seems while they were still burying their dead and cleaning up the mess—the USA decided that we needed to run more "tests" with our newly-found God powers of Atomic Energy.

This must be how it went over: We spun a globe, closed our eyes, put our finger down and there it was: our test site. Fortunately, the finger didn't land on Washington (that would have required a definite re-spin!).

Unfortunately for the inhabitants of the Bikini Atoll Island in the Pacific, the finger landed smack-dab on them. And, in wonderfully typical US fashion, we politely told the inhabitants of who-knows how many centuries that we needed them to leave their island, because we were going to blow the hell out of it...

...and you bet your bottom dollar we did with the camera rolling, with multiple scripted takes of a military man telling the natives (through an interpreter) that "these tests are for the good of mankind" and all kinds of sunshine. Meanwhile, the natives keep waving at the camera, as they have never seen one before.

They have no idea that they will never set foot on their island again.

I've seen random footage of A Bomb and H Bomb tests, so it wasn't new, but it was still as frightening as the first time I saw it. The film shows both tests that were conducted, on the island (dropped from the sky) and in the water. Staggering imagery, that should make anyone who sees it fear for their lives, and the lives of their children.

The single scariest element of this Doc is that TEN HOURS LATER, thousands of US troops are back at ground-zero, swimming in the water, walking around the island and exposing themselves to God knows how much radiation in the process. The film centers around one man who had to have both legs amputated and eventually died from cancer. He was one of thousands of men who died due to the exposure of those days. And all the while, their officers and commanders and the trained scientists said "there's no risk here--you'll be just fine."

To this day, the island is still uninhabitable. That's 63 years.

What an important film. I would that anyone with military authority would watch it, step back and count the cost of their ambition. I do truly hate the audacity and arrogance that the US has displayed in the past and present. I can assure the world that we civilians do not share the same characteristics as so many of our military leaders.

How have we not learned from our mistakes? I am now speaking about mankind in general. The resurgence of nuclear warfare seems almost inevitable, and it will be worse than ever. Why do we destroy the earth—why do we destroy each other? How is it that we justify so much death in this world?

Maybe it did take the deaths of so many innocent Japanese to stop WWII, but I am glad I wasn't alive to make that decision—and yet, it still manages to haunt me. In my opinion, it was the last necessary war; everything since has been avoidable, and should have been avoided.

Our country needs to pull some Jesus out. We need to practice what we preach. But I won't get more political than that. I know better about blogger and politics...

If nothing else, the film is an interesting history less, free of military propaganda, except for the propaganda it documents.

wes.

The Godfather, Part II.

2009-07-20T23:53:00.003-07:00

I just walked in the door, having had a powerful, inspiring experience: I watched an original print of "The Godfather, Part II" at the Arclight.

AFI and the Arclight collaborate to show prints from the Classics—the full blown theatrical experience. This was my first of what will undoubtedly be many viewings, and it was possibly the best possible film choice. I had never seen Part II, and it absolutely added to the effect it had on me. That film at that scale, for the first time ever = exceptional.

I wouldn't call myself a reviewer. I know where my cinematic strengths lie, and they're not in criticism. But I will say that it was revelatory. Francis Ford's direction in crafting such a masterpiece can't be overstated, and Al Pacino's performance was just stellar. You know someone can act when even (or especially) their silence knocks your socks. Vocal negative space, we'll call it, and as Michael Corleone, he is the spitting image of his father in that way.

All the exposition with DeNiro as the young Vito was just perfectly done. Not having seen the 3rd film, I immediately wanted to jump straight into it when the house lights were struck.

And I have to comment on the cinematography, as Gordon is so revered. I will say that his boldness in lighting The Godfather is undoubtedly one of the hallmarks of cinematographic history. It's noir without being film noir, and it was certainly the polar opposite of any lighting you'd find in the studio system days. There are some scenes that are literally 95% black—for minutes at a time—and I was just thinking: 'That was seriously ballsy.' You'd NEVER get away with some of those scenes today. And there were certainly moments when it was over done and a mistake to let it slide so far down the exposure curve. But you look past it in the broader context of the film.

You know when you have an experience that you didn't know that you always needed, and then once it's happened you wonder how you ever lived so long without it? That was me tonight, in that theater. I was fully inspired.

There was even an intermission. Very old-school. Very wonderful. The Arclight reveres Cinema and the movie-going experience. That's why I love that place. It's like nothing else.

And to end, I want to comment on that—on the theatrical experience. You don't have to be a filmmaker to know that films are meant to be viewed in that context. There's just nothing to compare with it: from the scale of the images and sound, to the community we feel with hundreds of people who are sharing that simultaneous moment. We're all suspending our disbelief together for a couple of hours on an experience which, in my opinion, is the most powerful and wonderful medium ever created.

I love Film.

wes.

So Angeleno.

2009-07-15T23:26:00.006-07:00

My blog just got botoxed. Actually, I think it was more serious than that. I think it got a bona-fide Los Angelean Facelift.

I dubbed the name "Twenty-Four Frames" a couple months back, but now the rest of the blog has caught up in its newness.

These are the perks of being married to Banners By Lyndsay.

I am going to try to live up to the class of my new facade.

It's a homage to classic, vintage Hollywood and a record of modern experience in that same space. So, like Panavision, I am inspired by the past and focused on the future.

(you're in a movie theater, in case the concept isn't so overt)

They have actually been very eventful, these past 10 days. I've crewed on the set of a Cheerios commercial, learned from two ASC members during AFI's summer semester, met a few prominent Angelenos and spent time at Deluxe Lab. It's a wild experience to walk up a stairwell and see an Answer Print of District 9 sitting on the railing, out of the can, just asking to be borrowed...

I also caught a film which I couldn't recommend more. A refreshingly original take on a relatively popular theme, perfectly performed by Sam Rockwell. Great direction, well shot, and absolutely worth seeing. I call this film the Anti-Shamalan, and that's the highest compliment I could give it. The "twist" comes early--it's the catalyst, really--instead of relying on it as an ending.

And now I must sleep. I've got a date with Harry Potter at 9am at the Arclight, then off to Deluxe again to get the full-blown experience. I am milking LA LA land--and I should be--because I am giving pretty much everything I have for these next 2 years, which will be their own catalyst for the many more that will follow...

...and we go.

wes.

The Rabble in Arms.

2009-07-04T23:25:00.002-07:00

Before I lay my head at the end of this Independence Day, I want to express my love for my Country: The United States of America.

I love the whole earth: Its diversity, its endless wonderment, its absolute grandeur. I love the people and the cultures and all Nature's creations.

But I love America the most. I am her son.

If anyone actually reads this and puts any stock in my words, I will ask them whole-heartedly to read the book "1776" by David McCullough. Next to the Good Book itself, there is no more important text that I know of. I truly feel that every American should be required to watch "Saving Private Ryan" and read "1776" before they graduate High School.

I wonder what a Country it would be if we all felt the gravity of those stories.

George Washington, Henry Knox, Nathaniel Greene. These are names we should revere.

Blessed be the Rabble in Arms that made my life possible. That I am able to live freely and pursue happiness is a priceless gift that holds my endless gratitude.

For all the faults that men have cast upon Her ever since, She is still the greatest country on earth. God bless the USA.

wes.

the Art and Craft of Photography.

2009-06-30T09:38:00.010-07:00

(Hereunder are exhibited some very strong feelings. Please don't judge me until you've read the entirety of it. Then you may judge me, if you must.)

For about a Century, Creative industries enjoyed a sort of autonomous monopoly over their fields and disciplines. Film, Photography, Design — these careers were limited to a small percentage of highly educated professionals, and their 'trade secrets' were tightly guarded and passed down through a process of hard-earned apprenticeships.

Enter the 1990s. Enter Photoshop, enter Illustrator, enter In-Design, enter Final Cut. Enter the INTERNET and a social Revolution.

As a Product of said Revolution, I am the first to admit that I am one of its primary Beneficiaries. I will not deny for one second that whatever quality of work comes from my brain and hands was very much influenced by and can absolutely be attributed to the Revolution.

HOWEVER. I will not hide that I have spent the last decade devoting myself to being as educated as much as humanly possible in the field and discipline I've chosen to participate in.

SO as not to sound generic, let me be specific: I spent every waking hour of 4 years immersing myself in the study of Optics, Chemistry, Photometry, Color Theory, Art and Architectural History, 2-Dimensional Design, Lighting Practices and Theory. On my own initiative, I read Ansel Adams' entire library on Photography, "The Camera," "The Negative," and "The Print." This included learning the Zone System from scratch and mastering it through exhaustive testing and endless frustration. I lived in a Darkroom for the better part of 3 years before I decided to pick up a digital camera. That was 6 years ago.

When I graduated with a Degree in Professional Photographic Illustration, I still felt wholly inadequate to be entering into the field, so I moved to Kansas City to spend a year apprenticing with one of the great photographers in our country: Nick Vedros. He became my mentor and a dear friend. To this day, I hold no one higher. He is truly a Master Craftsman, and a prime example of what a lifetime's devotion to a Trade can accomplish.

Only after my time with Nick did I feel prepared enough to make a go of it on my own. And I did. I spent 5 years shooting professionally for clients all around the world. It was an extremely enjoyable journey, but one that required constant growth to stay up with the competition and to better myself as an artist. And only recently did I feel I truly deserved the title of PHOTOGRAPHER.

There. Now that I've established myself as a pompous narcissist, may I please explain WHY?

This is not me on my self-important soap box. This is me saying that, with ALL of my heart, I believe the Art and Craft of Photography deserves the best, the brightest, the most progressive and most devoted practitioners. To me, it's similar to a religion. I think EVERYone in every profession should feel that way about what they do. I'm no pompous, and not nearly important enough to be narcissistic. I am merely a passionate soul with very strong feelings.

The problem with Photography is that every one on the planet owns a camera. And as there are no licenses required, no Bars to pass, no official certifications or documents required, who's to say when someone is a "Photographer?"

Case-In-Point: I am a 31 year-old mother of 2, and I got a DSLR for Christmas. I absolutely LOVE photography and the way that I see the world now. I've been taking pictures of my kids, my friends' kids, and have even been asked to photograph a wedding.

AM I A PHOTOGRAPHER?

No. You are not a Photographer. You love photography. That is wonderful. You may have a knack for composition. Good for you. But you're not a Photographer. Don't feel bad about this. There is nothing wrong with not being a Photographer. You can still take good photographs. But for the sake of the working professional Photographers in the world, please don't call yourself a Photographer.

Compared to the best shooters I know, I barely felt worthy of the title. This isn't personal, it's about standards and quality of work.

Being a Photographer should mean something; It should infer and imply; It should carry with it a certain amount of weight when it leaves our lips.

If someone says "I'm a Lawyer," it grants immediate credibility and commands instant respect. You passed the Bar. Big deal. If someone says "I'm a Surgeon," the same effect.

Now, we can't begin to rationalize in our brains that a Photographer can't reach the status or importance of Lawyers and Doctors and Such. The best Photographers have made just as many dollars and have had just as large an impact as the best in any profession.

Back to the point. A Photographer is someone who is educated in photography, is someone who consistently shoots for and works with multiple clients on a weekly basis, and is someone who generates enough income from their images to provide an entire livelihood for themselves. To put a number to it: If you're not making at least $25,000 dollars a year (a basic starting salary for many professions) from the images you produce, then you are not a Photographer. A professional Photographer is a person who makes their living from making images. This is a standard that everyone can hold themselves to, no matter what their background or gender. If you're making 25 grand in a year as a shooter, you must be decent at what you do. Double that if you're good. Triple that if you're very good and quadruple it if you're exceptional. If you are the best, tack on a couple million and even more.

Digital photography has made it much easier to make successful images. And a DSLR can teach its user much about photography — much more than they realize. Modern DSLRs can teach you about Color Temperature, about Film Speed (ISO sensitivity), about Shutter Speeds and F-Stops. This is AMAZING — to me, anyway. But that's just the problem: very, very few make and take the time to learn what their camera is trying to tell them.

The most fundamental thing a Photographer can know is one of the things that most people with a camera have no idea about: How does a light meter work? Virtually every camera has an internal light meter, and it is ENTIRELY responsible for the image that is being made when you click the shutter. Whether you shoot on AUTO or MANUAL, the meter is always working, always speaking to you.

18% Grey. It is everything.

We owe a great debt to George Eastman. If you think you want to be a Photographer, I think you are obligated to understand why. I think you should learn how a light meter works. I think you are obligated to consciously "get" what light is and what happens when it enters a lens. I think you are obligated to know your Craft.

As the saying goes:

If you can't take sting of the Stop Bath, then get out of the Darkroom.

You won't ever feel the sting of Stop Bath. You have a Digital Darkroom. But metaphorically, you had better get your hands into the Developer, the Stop and the Fixer. You had better get every drop out of Photoshop, rather than relying on a series of automated batch processes.

Know Your Craft.

In the evolution of my own career, I am following my passion into a new discipline: Cinematography. There are fewer people in the field, but there is also a much higher standard, and the competition is even greater. I will not call myself a Cinematographer until I've received my Master's Degree from AFI, and maybe not even then. Maybe it'll take another 5 years before I feel worthy. But I will get there. I will give everything I have to get there. Cinematography deserves that from me.

wes.

getting cozy at the cone.

2009-06-25T23:10:00.003-07:00

Well, this must actually be happening.

Someway, somehow, we actually accomplished moving the great majority of our lives to Burbank, CA — exactly 8.2 miles from the AFI campus — otherwise known as the Media Capital of the World. To me, it's known as the family-friendliest place to (affordably) live in any proximity to Hollywood.

It's really the ideal place to be — to leave my family and know they're safe and happy while I go become a bona-fide DP.

We've been swimming in boxes for days, but have made time for a few good activities like eating on the Universal Lot, touring AFI, and today we hit the LA Zoo and Hollywood Blvd (only to be detoured by the BRÜNO premiere).

But really, it's just been a lot of settling and transitioning. This is not a stress-free process. Just ask my wife. It's not easy to start clean. I spent much of today dealing with car insurance, renter's insurance, wire transfers and credit cards. See, we celebrities are JUST LIKE YOU.

wes.

The British are coming.

2009-06-07T15:47:00.010-07:00

Facebook takes a lot of my thoughts, so I don't publish as many on my Blog.
But here we are, nevertheless.

We should have more words like "nevertheless." Danes love to squish multiple words
together into the same word. Example:

"ødelæggelsesvåben"

That single word means "weapon of mass destruction." That's FOUR of our words.

Anyway. I really think New York City is an amazing place. I've been able to visit
just about every year forthe past 5-6 years, and it is just as overwhelming
--just as confirming an experience that New York City is the single greatest
man-made spectacle in the United States. Truly, you have to see it to believe it.

Here it is by night. This was my misty view from The Standard Hotel.

Had a really successful wedding shoot yesterday. Great couple, amazing location,
and a number of fortunate moments like this one (chance does favor a prepared mind):

And now I'm at JFK--took the subway, feeling very courageous...

Then it's home to AZ for 2 more weeks before a very new chapter in a perfect place. If I ever get to some status where a Celebrity Interviewer asks me a rapid succession of one-answer questions like: "New York or LA?" the answer is an instant "LA." I am a definite West-Sider.

"Boxers or Briefs?" The answer to that doesn't come quite as quickly.................."neither?"

wes.

(PS--The title of this blog comes from being on the Hudson River last night. I've read "1776" four times, and its impact on me has been indelible. Anyway, after their retreat from Boston, the British sent their whole armada up the Hudson, despite all the Americans' attempts to keep that from happening. I was imagining what it must have looked like to watch such a fearful spectacle of dozens of monumentally large ships--one alone having well over 80 canons if I remember right--flow up the Hudson. What an awe-full, awful sight that must have been. That we ever won that war was nothing short of miraculous. George Washington for President.)

Life at 120 Frames.

2009-05-25T08:51:00.003-07:00

What's interesting about "slow-motion" is that there's nothing slow about it. High-Speed Photography—where the camera is cranking through hundreds and even thousands of frames every second—is required to get true "slow" motion when it's played back at the usual 24 frames per second.

My life feels like some weird combination of capture and playback. I am running at full speed—easily cranking out 120 FPS—and somehow playing it back at 24 at the same time.

So, it's high-speed living in real-time—which is paradoxical.

In the past 10 days, I've been to LA, Kansas City, shot multiple jobs, begun packing the house, sold virtually all of my Profoto gear, spoke in Church, finalized the lease on our new home in Burbank and made loads of preparations for the Big Move, which now happens in less than a month. And it still feels like I'm getting nowhere in so many ways.

I know I'm making progress, and that this is actually happening, but I am getting genuinely anxious to GET GONE.

On that note: We've got a bunch of great FURNITURE that we need to let go, so if any one needs great furniture at a great price, please let me know. Please.

It's a race to June 20th.

wes.

The Death of a Diné.

2009-05-11T19:56:00.003-07:00

I've found that phone calls from blocked numbers have a higher potency of Fate in them. I was accepted to AFI with a blocked call. Tonight I received another, with much less joyous news. I share it hesitantly on my blog, but realize simultaneously that if I don't write it down here, it won't get written down at all.

About a year ago, I was on my way to the Grand Canyon to do a portrait for Arizona Highways. As I topped out of the Sonoran, I spotted a hitchhiker and picked him up. He was Native American. His name was Herbert Tsosie. He was trying to get home: The Gap. It's a place in Northern Arizona about halfway between Flagstaff and Page.

Let me back up just a bit. As I was leaving the house that morning, I felt inclined to grab my Mini Disc recorder. I didn't know why until I saw Herbert.

For the next 3 hours, Herbert and I talked. Herbert talked mostly, and I listened mostly. That's exactly how I wanted it. I have audio clips from that car ride that are incredibly significant to me. This is why I hesitate to post this. I try to keep my most personal feelings to myself, to my God and to my wife. There are very few people who know how deeply I love the Diné people and their land — and how important I believe them to be in the Grand Scheme of things.

I took Herbert clear to Cameron, and was consequently late for my portrait. He asked me to come to his home the next day to spend time and meet his family. I said I would.

When the next day came, I arrived at his home at The Gap. Herbert was not home, but his family was — and they were not expecting me. After a somewhat tense moment (insert stereotypical image of White Man Cowboy and Savage Injun Chief squaring off-----though it was actually me and an obese old Navajo woman — sorry to dash your fantasy), I was able to explain my presence on their property.

They explained that Herbert was gone, that they had no idea when he'd return. This was common, they said, and he would often come home very intoxicated. I failed to mention that as I drove Herbert home the day previous, he drank two liters of beer like it was Mother's Milk. Nevermind my ignorance toward Open Container Laws — only someone less naive would have thought about that.

I left my contact information with his family and left. I also didn't say that Herbert was going to take me to see a Dinosaur footprint in the sandstone on the mountain behind their property, as well as an ancient moccasin print. Not getting to see those was also disappointing.

Herbert never called. It was almost six months later when the phone rang. It was a "928" Area Code, which means it was from Northern AZ. A man identified himself as Harry Tsosie — Herbert's father — and asked if I would come and meet with him. He was in Glendale visiting his daughter. I eagerly said that I would — extremely humbled by his contacting me.

The next day, I spent hours in a little house trailer in Glendale learning everything about the Tsosie clan. Things that are so special to me. Harry's father was a bona-fide Code Talker in WWII — a major reason we were able to win the war. He and virtually all the men in his family had served one time or another in their lives — some multiple times. I have always been fascinated by the irony of the Native Americans' patriotism toward a people that drove and slaughtered them like cattle for centuries. I think they saw past the White Man, into the preservation of their sacred lands.

If there's one thing I have going for me in this life, it's Sincerity. In my photography and in my life I have known that I have a way about me — people trust me and open themselves up to me. It's a gift I do not take lightly or abuse. Herbert and Harry both opened their hearts to me, and I feel privileged for it. Harry told me that Herbert was in jail, and would be out in January. When I spoke with Harry in January, he said that Herbert's sentence had been extended for a year. Harry also asked me if I would be willing to come to The Gap to photograph his entire family, who would be gathered for the graduation of his Granddaughter. Again, with absolute eagerness, I agreed. The proposed date was May 23rd, 2009.

I sent Harry occasional texts over the next few months — to say hello, to tell him how much I was looking forward to May. We also had plans to teach me Navajo, which I've thought about learning for years, and hope to.

Two weeks ago, after not hearing back from his texts, I decided to call and confirm everything for the 23rd. I got his voicemail, left a message and never heard back. I called again a few days later. This time a woman answered. She was Diné, so I assumed she was Harry's wife or daughter. She refused to speak with me and hung up. I called several more times, trying to explain who I was, but she became more hostile with each call, finally telling me she had no idea who Harry Tsosie was.

Side note: After hundreds of years, I am amazed how little progress has actually been made — how much deep, abiding anger exists. It is palpable. This goes for many races.

I remembered I had another number that Harry gave me. I tried it, left a message, and never heard back. Until tonight. Harry's daughter called me. I was thrilled. I told her I figured Harry changed his number, as is so often the case with cells these days, but was so glad she got my message.

"My father passed away a couple of months ago."

These words could not have been less expected. My heart literally lurched in my chest. I was, and still am in total shock. I feel as though a critical connection in my life has been severed.

Herbert is still in prison. The last time he saw his father was over a year ago. He was probably drunk. Harry was always very concerned for Herbert. I am sure he knows of his father's death, and I cannot imagine the pain of not being there when he was needed most.

And now it's now. I have a few Diné friends, but none were as important to me as Harry. He was, to me, an ancient and true Diné. He was one of the last of a generation of Native Americans that will never exist again. These days they don't even teach their native tongue in school, and very few Diné (Navajos) among the new generation can even speak it. This is a tragedy of enormous magnitude.

So, this post is for Harry. It is for the Diné whose culture and land I love beyond words. It is one of my main goals in life to tell a small part of their story — to pay tribute to their sacred landscape — in a way that does it justice.

wes.

924 South 72nd Street.

2009-04-14T13:40:00.006-07:00

What's the silliest decision a person could make in this market? Sell a house like this.

What's the smartest decision a person could make in this market? Buy this house.

This post is not directed at its readers; I am not trying to sell you my house. I am simply asking you to help get the word out that this home is for sale, and if you know anyone who is looking to buy—who coincidentally has eclectic taste—then I hope you'll help me with a referral.

I love this home. I did not buy it—did not pour thousands of hours and tens and thousands of dollars into it—with the intention of leaving so soon. But life intervened, and my fate has its own schedule—a schedule that is impeccably out of sync with the Real Estate Market.

I want to let the images speak for themselves, but suffice it to say that I believe this is the single best home, dollar for dollar, on the market—which it is, as of today.

2,350 Square Feet; 3 Bed, 2.5 Bath; Golf Course; Quiet Seniors for Neighbors; Custom EVERYthing.

I am not shy about numbers. I hate games. So I'll shoot straight: I have $315 Grand in this home, and I think it shows it. There isn't one aspect of the home that we haven't improved and updated. We're listing it for $259,000. That means I am losing lots of money. That also means the buyer is getting an unbelievable buy.

So here it is. If you know anyone who's looking, please send them the link to this post.

...and so much more.

wes.

cinematogra-me.

2009-04-10T10:35:00.002-07:00

Welcome to the newly-named version of my same-old blog.

I decided upon a rebirth for my blog because everything else in my life is starting over. Not starting over as much as evolving, but there's a lot of newness.

For the next several years, I will be establishing myself as a Cinematographer: 2 years of school followed by a lifetime of passionate exploration of a medium that I consider the highest of all art forms. I deal in Light, and Cinematography is the ultimate man-made expression of it.

"twenty-four frames" for those who may not know, is the standard framerate for recording motion pictures: at twenty-four frames per second, which most closely approximates/replicates the way humans see the world. There's other framerates (which can be wicked fun to utilize) such as 12 frames per second ("fps"). This would, when played back at 24fps make everything appear to be moving very quickly. Or 48fps, which would slow things down. We call this "under cranking" and "over cranking." You can always go faster or slower with your frame rate, but you can only shoot at 24fps for sync-sound (to match with the audio of people speaking).

So, there's that. This blog will now reflect my life, which life will be comprised of 95% of my time being devoted my education, and 5% for everything else--the "maintenance" of everything else: my family, church ,etc. That 5% will be very potent, very qualitative time. I want to thank my wife in advance for her patience, for her support, for her love. There is no way on God's Green Earth that I could be doing this without her confidence in me. She is, as I like to say, the H-Bomb.

There will be long, hard and trying times ahead. This education--this pursuit of passion--will come at a significant sacrifice, financially, emotionally, physically and otherwise.

But on the other side of such sacrifice comes the reaping of a satisfaction known to very few.

Slow, steady growth. That's what wins the race. And here we go. August will be here in no time.

There's still loads to get done: Properties to sell, Student Loans to acquire, a Home in Hollywood to be found, and a million little things.

wes.

Låt den rätte komma in.

2009-03-28T08:27:00.005-07:00

Do you know what I love? Language. I wish I was more of a linguist, but I think my brain is limited in that sense. I just don't know if I could learn more than a couple of languages.

Or maybe I'm limiting myself...

But in another way, knowing one language has given me access to others. Speaking Danish enables me to tap in to all Scandinavian tongues, as well as bits of German and Icelandic.

I can read Norwegian as if it was Danish, and I can understand most Swedish (especially with subtitles). And that's a bit of a segue into the point of this post:

"Låt den rätte komma in."

I want to talk about the single best film I've seen lately. It's a Swedish Vampire flicker (titled above) which translates roughly to "Let the right one in."

(Lyndsay, please forgive me for this)

With all the "Twilight" buzz these days, it's hard to think that a Vampire film could be more than sappy teenage drama. "Twilight" was not a bad film, but it was a variation on a theme—a theme that taps in and plays to the perpetual demographic of teenagehood.

But as a 30-year-old filmmaker, I am looking for something more: more original, more veristic, more engaging.

"Låt den rätte komma in."

Anyone who knows me knows that my LEAST favorite genre of film is horror. It is gratuitous, it is unintelligent, it is sensational and it is predictable. It is, in a word, pointless.

"Låt den rätte komma in" would fall under the "horror" category, but it could not be LESS of a horror film.

Nor am I a fan of the Vampire genre by any stretch of the imagination. But that's just it! That's exactly why this film takes you by such surprise—why it is so refreshingly original.

I am not one to ruin a film by divulging too much, but let this post suffice to say that "Låt den rätte komma in" is the most original—and interestingly, the most human—take on what it means to be a Vampire.

It is a story told from the perspective of 2 twelve-year old children. I think so much of its brilliance comes from this one decision: Before the teenage drama begins.

And yet, that's also just it. The Vampire is a 12-year-old girl, shy and powerful—fearful and frightening.

OH MAN, it is so good. I want to watch it again immediately. If I had seen this sooner, it would absolutely have been in my Top 5 for 2008. That's how highly I recommend it.

Now, a disclaimer: It's got some seriously intense moments. I would equate it to "Pan's Labyrinth" in terms of intensity. Definitely for adults only.

ONE LAST THING: No matter how you feel about subtitles, DO NOT WATCH THE DUBBED VERSION. It is absolutely awful. Please give it the respect it deserves and watch it in its original language of Swedish. You'll enjoy it SO much more. Trust me on that.

wes.

MAYAFI.

2009-03-16T21:36:00.002-07:00

Holy Definition, Batman.

PART I —

WE HAD A BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL. She is a literal piece of heaven.

Her name is Maya Sofia Johnson. Click here for a perfect minute and a glimpse of her.

Her healthy entrance into this world is a blessing beyond compare. There will be many, many stories of her life to be told.

PART II —

On my birthday post, I spoke of a Paradigm Shift in my life. It's my 30th year, and the perfect moment for a new (r)evolution in my career.

I spent my twenties realizing who I am as a person. I think it was a decade well spent. At the end of said decade, I began to devote myself to what I felt was my fate—that of a Cinematographer. I had established myself as a still shooter for the past 5 years, and it seemed somewhat odd to devote myself to another career. But it wasn't a career change as much as an evolution of my life as a Dealer of Light. Light is my life.

During the last year in particular, I have spent thousands of hours—and even more dollars—in the study and execution of filmmaking and cinematography specifically. This has including applying to the American Film Institute's prestigious Cinematography program. Basically, I was going for 1 of 28 slots—28 slots that about 1,000 other people from all over the planet were going for.

The chances were slim, and it's involved more work than I ever would have imagined. There were definite moments when I felt like it was not worth it. But I persevered.

Today, after a year-long application process and more self-induced psychological drama than I care to admit to, I was accepted as a Fellow into AFI.

It's a feeling of TOTAL elation, followed almost immediately by disbelief and finally a mixture of excitement and "holy crap, this is really happening."

This is going to be the next 2 years of my life: I will not see my family. I will have no social life whatsoever. I will go on roughly 5 hours of sleep and virtually live at AFI's Conservatory. I will work harder and longer than I ever have in my life. It will kick my ass every which way but up.

In short, this will be the hardest thing I've ever done. I feel privileged to do it.

People often ask what I'll be doing exactly. I will be studying the art and craft of Cinematography, which is the visual element of filmmaking. In other words, my job on set will be the Director of Photography ("DP"), and I will be in charge of the LOOK of the films/ads/music videos that I'll be shooting.

I like to say that the DP is the 4th most important person on a film set, because that's where they always fall in the credits when a film is over: Director, Writer, Producer, DP.

It's a ladder to the top, and I am at the bottom. But this step will be a big one in that climb.

SO. Now we have to get our lives to Los Angeles before September First. Here we go...

wes.

Sunrise Run.

2009-02-26T18:04:00.003-07:00

Total the hours up, and it's a week's work.

5:30 AM Call Time, and 4 times at that. What a sport, Jennifer.

I've created a short. It's a homage to my home. I wanted to add narrative to it, so I conceptualized a simple story and collaborated with Jennifer Rogers—the ideal casting.

The Sonoran Desert is like nothing on earth. Of the area where this film is made, President Roosevelt himself said:

"The Apache Trail combines the grandeur of the Alps, the glory of the Rockies, the magnificence of the Grand Canyon and then adds an indefinable something that none of the others have. To me, it is the most awe-inspiring and most sublimely beautiful panorama nature has ever created."

And he should know. I feel the same way. But it's also about the details, that are just as wondrous and grand—which I think my film shows.

(Note: Make sure "HD" is on, and it's best to pause it while it loads so it doesn't "jump" while you're watching)

Here's the link, and I hope you enjoy it. These were some of the better mornings I've had:

SUNRISE RUN.

wes.

Top 10 of 2008: A Good Year for Film.

2009-02-24T22:18:00.005-07:00

Perhaps one of the only industries to actually thrive this year was the movie business. In fact, it had its best year ever: 9.7 Billion in the Box office among the 5 major studios.

So it's only appropriate to start my "Top 10 for 2008" with the highest-grossing film of the year, which just also happened to be a wonderful piece of work.

"The Dark Knight" was all about Heath. Not because he died. Because he gave the performance of his career. It's one of the coolest and most enjoyable characters I've ever seen on the screen. Period. The Cinematography was also top-notch.

Number 9: "WALL•E"

Pixar Animation Studios is the new Disney, and even Disney knows it. It's very rare to find the creativity, originality, sweetness, profundity and downright hilarity that Pixar manages to blend into the same film—and they do it time and again.

Number 8: "Iron Man"

I saw this film at the Arclight in LA, and it quite literally blew me out of my seat. I never thought I'd be so excited about a comic flicker, but Robert Downey has joined Christian Bale in leading the way for a new generation ultra-cool Superheroes. He is absolutely perfect as Tony Stark, and the film was a great ride from beginning to end.

Number 7: "Bigger, Stronger, Faster"

This is the first of two Docs on my list, and I couldn't be happier about it. I have already posted a long blog on it, but it's honestly one of the best Documentaries I've seen. Crazy is an understatement.

Number 6: "The Wrestler"

Interesting to see this juxtaposed with the above-film, as there are certainly similarities. What Mickey Rourke and Darren Aronofsky do in this film is nothing short of superb. The glimpse into the life of "the Ram" and his struggle to relive his glory days is one of the most touching stories I've experienced, and undoubtedly because it mirrors so profoundly Mickey's one life.

Number 5: "Son of Rambow"

Speaking of glory days. There's really nothing like childhood, and we realize it all too late. Fortunately, we can relive it through films like this one. SUCH a treat, this film.

Number 4: "Revolutionary Road"

This was a film that I actually avoided for months. My respect for Leo and Kate could not be greater, but the trailers looked too heavy for me—and I can handle some pretty heavy stuff. But this week I gave it a chance and it absolutely took me off guard. It was heavy, no doubt, but powerful and surprisingly personal, its story, to my own current experience in life. It hit home in a major way. And I will never be satisfied until Leo gets his Oscar.

Number 3: "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"

You all know about it, but if you haven't made time yet, you need to. David Fincher was robbed at the Academy Awards. He should have won Best Director.

Number 2: "Slumdog Millionaire"

Months before this film won "Best Picture" of the year at the Oscars, I crowned it with a similar title. It's another film you've heard about, but too few of you have seen. I want to say something here: There is ABSOLUTELY NO REASON why this film should be rated "R" and anyone who denies themselves the privilege of seeing it on that basis alone is missing out on a truly beautiful and profound experience. It is without question a magnificent film, and a film that continues to affect me. I would watch this movie with JC Himself. I think He inspired much of it. I look forward to being a part of making a film of this caliber some day.

Number 1: "Man on Wire"

And yet, "Slumdog" does not take the ultimate prize this year. For a story that is even more inspired, even more seemingly fictional--and amazingly true--was documented and conveyed into what I feel is the best picture of 2008. I wrote a very recent post about it, which you can scroll down to, so I won't ramble. I cannot recommend this film more highly. If there's one film on this list you make the time for, let it be this one. It will uplift you in the most literal way, and inspire you to pursue things that you think are otherwise out of reach. It is WONDERFUL.

The Making of a Diva.

2009-02-20T21:19:00.003-07:00

I thought this an appropriate image for an Oscar Post.

We were doing a shoot for a dentist today (see new Homepage Image) and as they were stying the models, this concept came to me (diva concept). The hairspray to the eye, however, was totally spontaneous---unexpected and absolutely welcome. I love this shot.

SO. I have to go, 'cause I've gotta watch "Changeling" right now---it's the only one of the Cinematography noms that I haven't seen--but I'll throw out my guesses very quickly for the winners (not all of them are who I want to win, but who I think will win):

Best Actor: Sean Penn, "Milk" (I would prefer Micky Rourke in "The Wrestler")

Best Supporting: Heath Ledger, "The Dark Knight" (he absolutely deserves it)

Best Actress: Kate Winslet, "The Reader" (because it's been too long in coming)

Best Director: David Fincher, "Benjamin Button" (AMEN, AMEN, AMEN)

Best Documentary: "Man on Wire" (almost my favorite film of the year)

Best Short Film, Live Action: "Grisen" (because it's Dansk and because it's wonderful)

Best Picture: "Slumdog Millionaire" (because it is, of course)

And, Most Importantly:

Best Cinematography: Wally Pfister, "The Dark Knight"

That was a TOUGH one for me. I love the look and feel of "Benjamin Button" more, but Wally Pfister deserves it more. Also, "The Dark Knight" is SO epic: Shot on 70mm for many scenes.

But I would not be surprised in the least if "Button" wins, as it was captured digitally and is a milestone in many ways.

SO, there's my votes. Hope you all enjoy the Oscars. I hope you watch it at all.

wesman.

PS--Watch Conan's Last "Late Night" TONIGHT!!!

I'm the Mother-Flippin'...

2009-02-16T10:19:00.002-07:00

I, Wes Johnson, am proud to announce that I have secured two stellar seats to

FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS.

Because of the Recession Session, I couldn't post it. They're coming to Dodge Theater on May 19th. I got the tix a couple weeks back, so I assume it's sold out. But if you want to look, it never hurts to try.

This show is going to be my only consolation for not getting to see Jimmy Eat World's "Clarity" tour. It's the 10th anniversary of my favorite album of all time, and I want to kick my teeth for not knowing about it until it was too late. They're performing the whole album, and despite Jim's development of a "poppy twang" in his voice over the last years, I am certain this will be the concert of their career.

But, honestly, having seen J.E.W. so many times--and never having seen FOTC--if forced to choose, I would choose Bret and Jemaine.

If you've never seen their performances, just YouTube them, and you'll understand why I'm so jazzed to see them live. Give "Jenny" a chance, and you'll be rolling.

Get ready for an Oscar Post later in the week. Oh yes, I've been waiting a long time for this Sunday. I'll have my predictions for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Cinematography, and maybe more. I may also have my "Top 9 for 'o8" list by then...

"Slumdog, Slumdog, Slumdog..."

wes.

Recessed. Seshed.

2009-02-14T21:54:00.004-07:00

Thanks so much to all who showed for the Recession Session. I hereby declare it a success. So many great people, and photos to match. Here's some of my instant favorites:

(caught this first one just as he was getting sucked into a black hole, or getting folded into himself, or disapparating, or something...)

Loads of gems, actually, and I'm too tired to work on any more tonight.

HAPPY AZ STATEHOOD DAY.

wes.

A Recession Session with WJP.

2009-02-05T10:59:00.006-07:00

The economy may suck, but that doesn't mean your Valentine's Day has to.
And Valentine's Day may stink (Singles), but that doesn't mean your Saturday has to.

On Saturday, February 14th, Wes Johnson Photography is hosting a

RECESSION SESSION.

From 10 AM to 4 PM, I will be in my studio—lights on and camera ready—to take the portrait of anyone who steps in front of my lens.

For $10 dollars.

Join the likes of Kurt Warner, Dakota Fanning, Laurence Fishburne, Miss United States, Famous Swedish Golfers, Noted Chefs and CEOs . Come and get your original WJP portrait.

Bring your Valentine. Bring your dog. Bring your iPod. Bring your Golf Clubs. Bring whatever you want, and let's have some fun.

My usual portrait sessions start at $350, so this is pretty much a 95% discount. It is my Valentine's Day gift to you, Arizonans, and the best way I can think of to kick these Recession Blues...

The Details: When you arrive, I will take exactly FIVE (5) pictures of you. I will then choose the best ONE (1) and email you a High-Resolution Jpeg copy of that photograph.

Because of the specifics of my intended lighting scheme, there will be a maximum of THREE PEOPLE per portrait.

Please bring cash only. Please also bring a valid email address, which I will be sending the final image to.

There will be some light refreshments, great music, and better company—You.

SPREAD THE WORD. You do not need to RSVP. Just show up at your convenience between 10 and 4.

I look forward to seeing you there. I am attaching a map to my Studio below, with directions written on it. Click on the map for a larger version.

The official address is: 2641 North Barkley, Mesa AZ 85208

powerlinerflyers.

2009-01-29T23:23:00.002-07:00

As I was driving home tonight, I passed by this little flock. I just loved their endless motion and the minimal landscape of this frame:

powerlinerflyers

wes.

rocks socks blocks.

2009-01-29T22:16:00.003-07:00

I have invented a phrase in response to some great things I've experienced lately.

I am writing this down so that the world may know that I coined it:

"It rocks the socks off my blocks."

For example: Sigur Rós' song "Inní mér syngur vitleysingur" rocks the socks off my blocks.

That's it. You heard it here first. If you hear or read that phrase, please tell the person where to cite the credit.

wes.

Man On Wire.

2009-01-14T00:39:00.003-07:00

I have stared at my hands for some time now, wondering why they won't start typing. They, like me, are still in a state of elated shock.

I have always said that there's nothing better than a great documentary. I think I just watched the best doc I've ever seen, for the simple reason that it's the most incredible story that never should have happened—and somehow did.

What possesses a young Frenchman to suddenly pursue as his life's goal the most daring artistic crime of the 20th Century: To stretch and walk on a high wire that extends from the tallest building in the world to the other tallest building in the world?

This is the adventure—the unbelievable, awe-inspiring journey of Philippe Petit. It spans his story from the moment he saw the Twin Towers in a sketch—before they were even constructed—and how instantly, he knew that it was his destiny to span them, join them with his wire and walk among the clouds.

I don't even want to say more. This is a film that is so beautifully done; a story that is so wonderfully devilish; an experience that is uplifting in the most literal and intangible way.

I am officially inspired. These are moments for resolution, where my own destiny presents itself and I am forced to ask myself:

"Will I walk the wire, or will I stand and watch?"

My shoes are already off.

wes.

Victory Rose.

2009-01-11T13:29:00.007-07:00

My love of Scandinavia in general, and Danmark specifically, is no secret—synonymous with my name, if you know me at all. And yet I feel for the first time that there is a single expression that embodies those Scandinavian philosophies and beliefs that are so deeply embedded in me.

Sigur Rós.

For all of my love of DK, and for all my searching, I have never found a single Danish band that creates music that is truly "Danish" in my mind. To be honest, it's been a huge disappointment, as if a part of Danmark's identity has somehow become lost over the last decades.

Sigur Rós.

This is not to say there's no great music in DK. But it's old music—folk music that's terribly hard to come by, even if you're in DK—and I've never heard it since. Of the numerous Danish films I own, there's only one where an old folk song is sung. I've found websites with simple melodies—many of which are old children's songs. They're terribly enjoyable, but again, not representative of the Danish culture in the way that music should be.

Sigur Rós.

When I lived in DK, Techno, Electronic, Pop and House music were all the rage. We all know the band AQUA, with their smash hit "Barbie Girl" and the like. But the fact that they are the biggest music to ever come out of DK supports my argument: It is not only tacky, but it is entirely unoriginal in that the musical style didn't originate in DK, has no direct or indirect Danish themes or messages, and it's in English (I know you sell more albums if your music's in English, but your also sell out your nativity at the same time).

Sigur Rós.

And from all my research since, the only thing that's changed is that Hip-Hop, Rap and Death Metal have been added to list of music that Danes love. You wouldn't believe the number of Danish Rap artists, but I suppose with all the oppression from the Man, all the Danish Ghettos, Slums and Gangs, that this kind of anarchical expression is only natural. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I find this laughable beyond words. A bunch of frustrated Danish teens have latched on to an American genré of music that they have never experienced, or will ever understand. Hell, I'm American and I don't understand it. Eminem is the only white man that's ever pulled rap off.

Sigur Rós.

I don't mean to digress too much. This is a positive post, after all, and I will only say one more thing on the matter: If anyone knows of any truly Danish music, please send it my way. If not, then Danmark needs to stop looking outward and start looking inward for inspiration in the creation of their music; they need to focus more on their remarkable, proud heritage than on external cultures they think are cooler than their own. Coolness, after all, is highly psychological—and highly overrated.

Sigur Rós.

Now, the positivity: Fortunately for DK, someone is doing their job for them. And fortunately for the world in general, there is Sigur Rós: a group Icelandic musical geniuses that have embodied in their songs the heart and soul of Iceland. They are the essence and core of what I believe is Nordic, what I feel is Viking, what I know is Danish—even if the Danes don't yet.

It is music that exudes and extracts emotions that can only be described as "Scandinavian" in both its mythological proportion and its singular intimacy—intimacy that borders on palpable loneliness.

Whenever I see nations like China and India—in such a wretched rush for modernity that history and culture become afterthoughts in the jet stream—I think of Iceland. I think of a country that is doing everything in its power to hold on to its culture, its history and its landscape; I think of a place where Nature rules, and Man respects; I think of a place that sings to the most inner-being of me.

Sigur Rós.

I think that Icelanders are the Navajo of the Nordic. I love them for that. There is a small set of Danish islands I feel the same way about: Bornholm first and foremost, and the Faroe Islands just behind. These are places that my heart loves, places I long to be in.

This whole post's purpose is to get you to go to iTunes and download a few Sigur Rós songs. I know there are those in this readership that know of—and even some that love—the band, and I am hopefully representing you well. I have the added benefit of speaking Danish, which enables me to understand some of the lyrics. HOWEVER, you don't need to know Icelandic to love the music, or to feel its message.

I have a number of favorite songs, but here's a short list that I think everyone should have in their heads:

"Inní mér syngur vitleysingur" (my current favorite)
"Gobbledigook"
"Glósóli"
"Saeglópur"
"Vid spilum endalaust"
"Starálfur" and "Hoppípolla" (which are so popular that you probably know them)
"Track 4" from the album "( )"
"Gódan daginn"

And the list goes on. It's really hard to go wrong with Sigur, but there's definitely songs that stand apart.

It is very, VERY far from the music we know here in the States, so you have to let it simmer. If we can let go of the 3-minute mindlessness that the radio hammers in our heads, I think we might really feel something.

Sigur Rós is my Classical. It is my Opera. It is my surrogate Danish music. It is wonderful, and it is more important, I believe, than almost any music I've heard in this life.

wes.

Concerning Snowbirds.

2009-01-08T15:49:00.006-07:00

Every Winter, the human population of the Sonoran Desert increases by what feels like 75%. This influx of mostly Senior Citizens is fleeing the freeze, escaping the ice and in all other ways avoiding the harshness of the Winter where they call home (cough--Minnesota--cough).

The misnomer assigned to these folks is "Snowbird." I say 'misnomer' because I think an actual Snowbird would thrive in the snow. Instead, they occupy our roads, golf courses, shopping markets and Village Inn restaurants.

First, the bitterness: I am proud of my Arizonan License Plate. It is loaded with more symbolism than any scrap of metal has ever been. I have One Hundred and Forty Eight Years of Roots in this state. That's the age of a Saguaro, and why I claim the Saguaro as kin. This is also why I feel that if the White Man wants to do anything within these borders, he should run it by the Navajo first, and me second (please don't take me too seriously, except for the Saguaro part). I know I am not the only one with deep roots here, and this Bitter Bud's for you, my friends.

We Natives, who sweat the Summer months; who work and sustain this Valley; who love this State every day of the year—NOT AS FAIR WEATHER FRIENDS, but as devoted citizens.

Yes, we Natives, I think, deserve a little priority on those roads, on those courses, in those super markets, and especially in the Village Inn Restaurants.

Now, impulses aside: If I was old (and all evidence points towards my meeting that fate), and if I lived in the Great Lakes Region (never again), then I would probably want to get the hell out of there as well, come Winter. They are retired and should be able to do whatever they want.

There is also the Respect Factor. I respect the Seniors of this nation—those Baby Boomers, those Vietnam Fighters, those adorable ladies I meet at Costco:

(please note ring).

I think all the wisdom in the world is tied up in that generation, and we still need them.

And Heaven knows, when I am 55+, I may want to get the hell out of this Desert when the temperature breaks 110 degrees.

But let me tell you this: When I am one of them, I will be a true Snowbird, which bird would flee the heat and head for higher ground—say, the Colorado Plateau for example.

Oh, wait: Arizona is such an incredible state, that I don't HAVE to leave its borders to find good weather in the Summer, or the Winter. I guess I am back to the bitter pride again. BOO to all those who only love my home for a season.

But un-boo as well. I don't mind. I really don't. It's just fun to pretend to mind. When I see a place like Goldfield alive with people in the Winter, I couldn't be happier. Yes, come and see why my family has chosen to stay here for 6 generations, and ask yourselves why your family has decided to do the same.

And, now that I think about it, those birds are more like house guests anyway.

"Thanks for coming, good to see you—don't let the door hit you on the way out."

wes.

a very curious case.

2009-01-03T02:03:00.006-07:00

Can't sleep until I lay this down:

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" is absolutely, positively, inarguably and most-reassuringly WONDERFUL.

I really can't begin to comment on the myriad ways in which this film has secured David Fincher as one of the great filmmakers of his time. But I also know how many people it takes to create a film of this caliber, and they all performed.

Not once did I ever notice the length of the film, but that it was followed by a sigh of relief. What a pleasure to be deeply engrossed—entertained even—in the soft, slow and deftly handled pacing of the film.

Maybe more later. MUST see. It has all the originality and charm of an Indie with the mechanical perfection of a Studio release.

Win-Win (Win).

wes.

(PS—Cate Blanchett is the Meryl Streep of this generation)

Eye Be 30.

2009-01-01T23:05:00.003-07:00

The time has come for a new Paradigm.

Shift.

I've been 30 for 21 hours. Could not be happier about it. A feeling, more than anything, that the best is coming quickly.

Happy New Year. Happy Birthday. Happy Revolution and Regeneration.

wes.

Breakin' II: Electric Boogaloo.

2008-12-28T15:41:00.004-07:00

These past few weeks have been so much about Finn that I think both Lyndsay and myself have felt very absorbed in him—we are Finn, he is us, there is nothing else.

To this moment, he's still as needy as a newborn; he also came up with a cold, which cold has been the most frightfully feared sissy virus of all time. He also got croup. The kid cannot catch a break. HOWEVER: he's as happy as a clam (whatever that means), playing, laughing, eating and being generally awesome. He even took his antibiotic like a man the other night (not a single fuss, and almost willingly), which impressed me to no end. He is the funniest, sweetest most wonderful creation. For rizzle.

Yesterday I did finally break away to be alone in the desert for a couple hours. It was therapeutic and it was COLD, man. It was in the thirties before the sun even set. This is cold for the Sonoran Desert. And yes, people who live in Northerly places, I know it's colder where you are, so you don't have to say "Thirties, that's nothing." It's not nothing. It's the thirties. Zero is nothing.

It being my first hike of the season, I was painfully reminded of a couple things: One, wear gloves (insert image of scraped hand from slipping on a steep slope). Two, MIND THE CAT CLAWS. Holy snap how a Summer can melt the memory. Freaking bushes appear so harmless, but are like little cacti when you come in contact (insert image of scratched neck) with them.

The Sonoran is no place for those looking to avoid pain. It's a harsh environment that allows very little room for error.

But it is beautiful. Beautiful beyond description, and it has such a hold on me that can never be broken. To get out past Apache Junction is to cut off the Propofol of city-living and re-animate in a space that is most natural to my soul.

And on Thursday, a Paradigm Shift: I will be 30 years old. We're having a hell of a party, courtesy of Mammoth Saloon. I want to apologize to anyone I may have forgotten to invite.

For those who have been invited: If you have NOT yet RSVP'd, then I am sorry to say that the bill is full and there's no more availability for seating. We've maxed out our allotted number. This is great news for those who did RSVP. It's going to be a great night.

(Hint: Come 5 minutes early to see a Gun Fight. Oh, yeah.)

wes.

PS- "Breakin' II" was on yesterday. Man, the 80s were off the charts. I do miss break dancing as a cultural symbol.

slings and slumdogs.

2008-12-16T17:02:00.005-07:00

BEFORE my world was flipped on its brain by the horror of last week, I was in the City of Angels serving as Unit Stills Photographer on the set of a film called "Slings and Arrows."

It was an insane amount of work, and a great time had by all. Here's a shot I was particularly pleased with. We see the First AC pulling focus to record the slate.

(Ironically, most of the film was shot in hospitals, so I went from photographing fictional pain to experiencing pain that was all-too-real.)

But that's all I can comment on the film for now.

But I absolutely CAN comment on a film I saw when I was in LA. I am only sorry it's taken me so many weeks to finally share it with you all.

It is rocking the underground and taking the indy world by storm. And rightly so: It's arguably the best film in years.

It is "Slumdog Millionaire"

I am not a critic, but I am passionate. I recommend this film to any and all of you. If there's anyone who determines whether they'll see a film based on its rating alone, then my heart hurts for you—you will continue to live deprived lives.

For those who have a little faith, see this film and have your world transformed. It's exactly the film that I am aspiring to make on many levels.

It's playing at an aesthetic theater near you. See it while you can in that context. I saw it at the Arclight, and it was phenomenal.

More words from me at this point would be superfluous.

wes.

At the Devil's Door.

2008-12-10T10:17:00.011-07:00

I don't have another outlet for the heavy emotions and swirling thoughts. The metaphors have been flashing across my mind for days: Bursting Balloons and Water Works; Melting Metals and Imploding Explosions.

Somewhere in my memory is the statistic that a Black Hole is so dense that a tablespoon of it would weigh 2,000 pounds. Unfathomable. It is the result of an implosion that is a result of an explosion--a supernova.

I have felt these last days the emotional weight of a black hole. It is a density of sorrow that my heart never fathomed before now.

I have been staring at my sedated son--this side of comatose--for literally 72 hours straight. There is no describing the length of those hours. Before that, I sent him crying into the OR after sleeping at his side the night previous. Before that, he suffered for a week of undiagnosed Empyema, far worse than anyone imagined. His left lung had stopped functioning altogether. Another week, and he could have lost it.

Tubes out his nose, out his mouth, out his lung, out his penis. Tubes in his arm, in his neck, in his feet.

Tears come with no coaxing--a surprise, considering I couldn't hardly force a tear for five years.

I hate every bit of medical knowledge I learn in the ICU, as it only reminds me how long I've been here. I've seen the same people come and go, working three 12-hour shifts--and I haven't left the room.

I can't bring myself to leave. I simply cannot do it. It's the equivalent of being just as confined to this space as Finn is. He can't leave--I can't leave. It may result in mental instability--it certainly is unsanitary--but these are things I'm prepared to confront.

I think it's part parental-paranoia, and would like to think it's mostly sheer devotion to my sweet son, who deserves nothing remotely this severe in his little body. He'll be 23 months on the 21st.

There is no suffering like parental suffering. I've broken bones, torn ligaments, blown eardrums, endured chronic illnesses and invasive surgeries. The total pain all my maladies pales to one minute of watching my son suffer like he has.

How does God do it? How does His heart cope with 6 billion suffering lives? Unfathomable. The Atonement is infinite, which fortunately is a longer duration than even the longest lasting pain.

Somehow that helps. I have felt many prayers, though they've been like whispers in a whirlwind.

I still don't know who this is for, but I trust it's for someone.

I will end with this: I am leaving this place with my son. He's coming home with me. I am counting the minutes.

wes.

(this just in: having a shower. first since sunday. pretty normal, now that I think about it.)

that's it, that's all.

2008-11-24T19:18:00.005-07:00

FIRST OF ALL: My man Josh Rogers has passed the California Bar Exam. I think it's the mental equivalent of the Appalachian Trail. So, here's to Joshwina: One of the few men I've ever approved of with long hair.

In Other News:

I have been waiting since about February to make this post. I thought it would be after I'd seen it in theaters in September, but I had to wait until it came out on DVD in November—as it apparently lost Distributors, Financiers, etc.

Either way, it is now worth the wait (kinda like "The Half-Blood Prince" will be worth the wait when it's July of next year).

But I digress.

It's a snowboarding film called "That's It, That's All." It's not only one of the most beautiful films I've ever seen (courtesy of God), it's also chalk-FULL of mind-shredding snowboarding, courtesy of Travis Rice.

(warning, nothing will happen when you click on the "play" button.)

It's the kind of film that I love to own, regardless of the fact that I never board anymore. You don't have to board to be inspired by what people like Travis can do. It makes you want to excel in whatever you do, and allows you to vacation for a time in the talent of others.

It's like "Step Into Liquid" which is one of my favorite films of all time—and I've never even surfed—it's like the ocean talks to me.......which it does......late at night.

So, if you'd like to see something fantastic, you'll have to buy the whole film (which you can get on iTunes, or at your nearest Ski Pro if you're in AZ). I would HIGHLY recommend getting the actual DVD, as it just looks SO good on the big screen.

(Maybe I need to throw a "that's it, that's all" party. If you want to see it at my place, leave a comment and I just might arrange it.)

You can view the trailers here.

You really should check it. It'll be on my "Top 10 for 2008" for sure.

wes.

200 Post Celebration.

2008-11-23T13:18:00.003-07:00

Wow. 200 Posts. That's a good number of posts. I'll use it to document some self-maintenance.

I would have made a good pirate. The natural Jet Black Beard is not a common one, and less common on someone with light hair. I would have been a Black Beard.

As it is, here in the 21st Century, I was frightening people—clients and family alike—

and had to cut my growth short. I tend to like drama, so I chopped the top as well.

I don't think these are flattering photographs. That's because I don't think I have a flattering face. But I am thankful for my face.

mini me.

2008-11-19T21:41:00.005-07:00

Long before BMW made them into a trendy American ride, the wesman became a lover of the original Mini Cooper.

Case in Point: My Mission. It's been 10 years this January since I left to Danmark and my whole world was turned on its brain.

This is what happens when you get what I like to call "Nostalgically Distracted."

I seriously don't even recognize myself in this photos, but that's another story (glad the baby face is gone).

I think that proves my point. I will never own a modern mini. I will one day have an original, and it will be absolutely bombtastic.

angels among us.

2008-11-19T21:36:00.004-07:00

Unreal how much I love this boy.

Other than a little desaturation, it is virtually straight out of the camera.

So there's November Finn.

For Abby the Conqueror.

2008-11-12T11:39:00.002-07:00

(only slightly belated)

I want to publicly congratulate my dear friend Abby McCarthy for hiking the Appalachian Trail.

Two thousand One Hundred and Seventy Nine Miles, give or take...

What an incredible feat.

may i rock your world?

2008-11-07T16:43:00.005-07:00

I've already told you of my favorite place in the world: Bornholm. It has one half of my heart.

The other half belongs to another very specific place in the world. The Alpha and Omega:

AZ.

My favorite thing to tell people is that AZ is only eclipsed by the Amazon Rain Forest for the variety of Plant and Animal Species it has within its borders. It is also one of the most geologically rich places on the planet, which is just why so many plants and animals love to be here.

I am one of them.

My wife, the Finnster and myself set off this week for a tour to my most favorite part of AZ: The Diné Nation (otherwise known as the Navajo Nation).

For me, this is God's Country. I feel His presence when I am in these places and spaces. It is a religious experience for me. I know that it was reserved for the Native American—and am forever grateful for that. I have spent hours and days with the Diné people, and it has blessed my life.

The area of land is in N+E AZ, and is larger than some European countries. And you feel it. You feel the bend of the earth, the breadth of the sky. There is scale here that defies comprehension, and is beyond description.

Oh, and I took a few pictures...

So. Prepare to be enlightened. Perhaps you will one day be so fortunate to stomp on such earth.

(click for larger versions.)

Petrified National Forest:

Canyon De Chelly:

(White House Ruins)

On the way to Monument Valley (like Ship Rock, but not—I don't know its name):

Monument Valley:

Antelope Canyon:

Grand Canyon, North Rim, from Cape Royal:

Vermillion Cliffs (taken this morning. very cold):

I have not enjoyed the irony that enables people only to leave negative comments, so why don't you join me in saying something positive about the grandeur of the above places?

Probably more to come.

wesman.

a song to sing.

2008-11-02T00:33:00.004-07:00

I think every one has a song in them.

And it is a good song.

We have to learn how to play it.

That can take long.

Some of us can sing; others try to sing, but it comes out wrong.

I don't think that means it's a bad song. I think their song is good.

I love all my friends. I don't care how they sing. I think their hearts are good. I think all our hearts are good.

I want to be Diné and love the earth; I want to be a Dane and live design.

I want to be a Photographer and deal in light. I want to work in Motion and alter lives.

I want to sing my song.

wes.

atltarcation.....altarnation.

2008-10-30T16:56:00.002-07:00

For the record.

I am back from the country of Texas, where I just experienced the 4 most exhausting consecutive days of my life.

In 6 days, Red, Greg and myself managed to do what I think is supposedly impossible:

Day One: I write a 12-page screenplay. Red secures talent and locations.

Day Two: Rewrites with Greg and continuation of pre-production; more talent.

Day Three: I arrive in TX. Red and I visit locations, discuss lighting, rigging, etc. We spend the next 8 hours creating a shot list and schedule. More talent secured. In bed by 1am.

Day Four: Up at 6am. First location shooting takes place. We end up having to light an entire church. Not an easy thing. Second location: All natural-light. Extras used. Scenes shot for day: circa 5. Straight back to studio for rewrites, talent booking, scene scheduling. In bed by 12:30.

Day Five: Up at 5:30. At main location. Main Talent and 10 extras on set. Exterior scenes shot. Chapel gets lit and Interior scenes shot. Scenes shot for day: circa 10. In bed by Midnight.

Day Six. Up at 6am (slept in). Pre-light alcove for 3 scenes. Shoot said scenes. Shoot 5 exterior scenes in 2 hours. Shoot 4 exterior scenes plus coverage over the next 3 hours. Get inside and shoot in the Chapel for the next 4 hours. Circa 25 extras on set. Have INSANE technical difficulties with the Genny and Sound. Almost lose my mind. 7pm: Manage to actually wrap principal photography. Total scenes shot for day: No idea.

HOLY SNAP. Those aren't nearly 1/100th of the details that occurred over these last days. But I think it gives a sense of what it was like.

And I just got word from Red that everything looks smashing. Thank the dear Lord for that. We had to cut scenes due to time crunch, but hopefully got enough for it to cut together in a way that is successful.

I didn't document anything—kinda busy making the film—but I got one iPhone off of our doorway dolly on for a tracking shot. We were able to shoot some great dolly work and over-cranking as well.

This was the real-deal, and I can't wait to see the final product. I am in such overwhelming debt of gratitude toward Red for his Producing abilities and to Greg for his Directing skills. They quite literally made this project possible. As did the crew: Chris, Travis, Sam, Jonathan and Jacob the Intern. All vital. All wonderful.

It was my second time at the helm as Director of Photography, but I would call it my first real success. I am so jazzed that this has all gone down.

And it's ONE WEEK since we really decided to make it happen. I think that's pretty much impossible.

If you'd care to know, the story is about 2 rival pastors, 5 rival altar boys, 1 bag of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Crackers that become the Eucharist, a falling from grace and a reconciliation. It's called either "Altarcation" or "Altarnation." I can't decide.

Both pastors were BRILLIANT in this film. One of them was a man named Van Quattro (AKA the toughest name ever), who had a solid scene in one of my favorite films, "Fight Club." I just watched the scene and was very proud indeed. It's short, but it's awesome, because I just spent the last 3 days with him—and that makes it awesome.

This film has to be finished in time for me to take it with me to LA on the 31st of November. We shot it in BEAUTIFUL high-definition with the Letus 35mm lens adapter. I got to watch some dailies, and it looks so very good.

I'm sure we'll get it up online by then, and will let you know when it is.

I am honestly just so pleased to have this experience under me (that's what she said?). I love filmmaking—more than I can say.

(I would lastly like to thank Abby McCarthy for planting the seed in my head 4 years ago with a casual comment: "You need to be a DP." I love you Abby, wherever you are.)

wesman.

PS—With no comments on my last post, I was either not controversial enough or just too lucid to fire back at. Probably the former. Either way, I hope that people who don't know me will stop reading my blog. I am not publishing political thoughts on this blog ever again, ever. I am not retracting any feelings, just not promulgating them in the future. I don't want a Soap Box, and unintentionally made one. I have converted it back to my Apple Box.

what Patriotism is to me.

2008-10-25T20:46:00.003-07:00

It has surprised me as well, the friction in the room of this blog. We could start a fire and keep each other warm.

Unlike some, I don't believe in throwing my hands up and living with a system because "I am only one person, and what difference could I make?"

Well, it makes a difference to me. And guess what: you do it as well. Every time you choose one thing over another, you cast your vote. It's only one vote—but it's a vote. Whether it's a product or a politician, every vote counts.

I don't mind that Sam Walton became a billionaire. I mind that, when any company goes public, the bottom dollar becomes the bottom line—and in many, many cases, ethics, morals and integrity go out the door.

I can't avoid the system. I don't want to avoid the system. I want people to do what they should do: put people—not money—first.

I own my own business. I create a quality product. There is no Fine Print, there are no Hidden Fees. In my world, everyone wins. I have often short-changed myself so that others could benefit, and try to be as honest as I possibly can, even when it's inconvenient.

And I sleep very well at night.

I don't think it's necessary that in order to do a lot of good, you have to allow a lot of bad to occur as well. "Well, there's this horrendous side effect, but look at all the good we're doing!"

Reminds me of the myriad prescription medicine commercials I see. They'll cure your symptoms all right, but you may have to live with some temporary blindness, itching, swelling, diarreah, and maybe Erectile Dysfunction.

Is it too much to ask to go back to the lab and flesh this thing out? Does it have to continue to spiral downward until it implodes?

I know that virtually everything I own is made in China. And I think that sucks. I don't mind China (communism aside). I would like to own some Chinese-made products. I would also like to own some American-Made products. Would you not?

"Designed by Apple in California. Assembled in China." I feel a tinge of guilt every time I read it, no matter how much I love the product. We're not building iPods in China to boost their economy.

I want my iPhone to be made by John and Jane Doe. American Design, American Made. That makes sense to me.

Sounds pretty Republican, now that I think about it. Dammit. I guess I am a patriot.

A Doc worth Watching.

2008-10-14T12:25:00.002-07:00

There really are few things better than a great documentary. Truth is stranger, more interesting and more frightening than fiction. However, it's not always done justice.

I think this film does. It is the story of Steroids told by the most perfect person imaginable: Your Everyman American who happens to have a brother who can bench 705 pounds and another brother who is a failing professional wrestler.

Funny, fascinating and full of hypocrisy—this film engages from the get-go. It is powerful and disturbing. In short, considering the subject: It's perfect.

You can rent it, and I couldn't recommend it higher.

Another film I wrote about many months ago is also out on DVD:

One of the most powerful (and untold) stories surrounding WWII. It is a story that literally determined the war for US.

wes.

Sunday Finn.

2008-10-12T15:13:00.004-07:00

I will not take credit for his cuteness—just for documenting that cuteness.

I love this boy.

new acquisitions.

2008-10-08T13:52:00.003-07:00

I am taking the 2009 Jetta Sportwagon challenge.

After 4 months of waiting, I got my new TDI, and am anxious to get on the road. That's not mine (above), but you get the idea. Mine is very handsome. Deep Graphite Blue--does not photograph well.

I also replaced my 24-70 lens and (because of the sale of another camera) was able to ADD another lens, which I have been drooling over for years:

The 85mm 1.2 lens. For those not in the know, an f/1.2 lens is fast. Wicked fast. Faster than wicked fast. It's five times faster than my other lenses, which means it can handle crazy low light. It also means that its plane of focus is insanely narrow, which is wonderful for portraits.

And it is crisp like a Rochesterian Winter. Goodness me. SO sharp. Now I have 4 lenses that cover virtually any and all needs, and my camera seems to be holding up fine.

So let's hit the road and make some photographic magic.

wes.

The Incas invented the Beanie.

2008-10-01T12:45:00.003-07:00

What do you call a Chinawoman, a Peruvian, a Mexican, an African-American, a White Boy and an endless amount of used clothing?

Four hours of pure gold.

I volunteered at Deseret Industries yesterday. And I must have been real lucky, 'cause they didn't make me stand out in the heat, receiving deliveries. Instead, I got to sort the donated clothes with several women of varying ethnicities—and varying english speaking abilities.

To my right, a dozen cages—twice as tall as me and just as deep—all overflowing with bags of donates clothes. In front of me, a large table with a pile of said clothes. Behind me, the same cage—empty—for the bad clothes (this cage gets filled up very quickly). Beside it, a bin for clean underwear.

Yes, we got dirty underwear. And used Mormon Garments. And yellow Q-Tips.

Ones impression of humanity isn't improved by sorting through people's "donations" of their unwanted clothes. I was left with questions like:

"Are there really this many obese people?"

and

"How does Liz Claiborne stay in business with these patterns?"

Somewhere along the way, you realize that people justify donating their trash, giving their conscience a boost by thinking "well, it's better than sending it to the dump." And there's the negligible tax write-off.

Don't get me wrong, not all of it was trash. I would say half of it wasn't, and it's that half that finds its way onto the backs, legs, heads and feet of those who need it.

And in that way, Deseret Industries is beautiful. That place is a machine of efficiency, a model for organization, and full of the most wonderful strangers you could possibly spend time with.

Part of me is already looking forward to next time.

wes.

Dromaeosauroides Bornholmensis.

2008-09-28T15:02:00.003-07:00

Shhh! De sover på Borhholm...

I have a favorite single place on this earth. It is an island in the middle of the Baltic Sea, spatially is no larger than the city of Mesa---and with 90% less people.

It is the island of my forefathers and of my mission; I myself lived there for a year of my life, and came to know the living relatives I have there. They are very dear to me, more than they know.

My literal blood, sweat and tears dot the landscape (and urine, but apparently it's frowned upon to mention that). I gave more of myself to that island than perhaps to any other (closed) chapter of my life. Not a single day goes by that I don't think about it, read about it, talk about it and look about it (it's my default map on Google Maps, and I take a virtual bike ride every day).

One day, I will live again in Denmark, and it's my life's (secular) goal to own a home on Bornholm—prefferably in Gudhjem, my favorite town. Translated, it means "God's Home," so maybe that paint's a picture for you.

It's a place of immense beauty and simplicity, of rare architecture and rolling farmland.

I just thought I'd write all of this. I found out that Denmark's only Dinosaur (Dromaeosauroides Bornholmensis) was found on Bornholm. Very exciting.

SO HERE'S TO GETTING BACK SOMETIME SOON.

wes.

four years in the finding.

2008-09-23T10:38:00.003-07:00

I do not doubt that some of my friends (Abby, Luke, Mike, Josh) could very well know about this.

But for me, it's been about 4 years of longing; 4 years of assuming that Davey Von Bohlen's wonderful voice was gone forever from my life, living only in the retrospection of one of my favorite bands, The Promise Ring.

Well, because of that assumption, I somehow convinced myself that because TPR was dead, that Davey had stopped making music.

That was a stupid assumption. But no one took me out of my ignorance—no one told me otherwise.

Fortunately, there's Wiki and iTunes. And now, Davey is back in my life.

So, in case there are any Promise Ring fans in this readership that have also lived in ignorance for the past 5 years, Davey Von Bohlen has been heading up a band called Maritime. They've released 4 albums, and I have purchased one:

I am enjoying it very much already. Do recommend.

Hope this helps even just one soul out there.

wes.

architecturally articulated.

2008-09-20T10:03:00.005-07:00

Have you ever experienced something for the first time: listened to a certain song, read a specific text, seen some new place or done some new thing—and at the very moment you absorb it into your senses, it defines you? You realize that this thing is you—and that you are this thing? That, whatever it is—even if you can't say how or why—it is truth to you, as much as your own existence.

I think that is the aspiration of Art; I think that, when Art is successful, that's exactly what occurs.

It's like seeing your reflection for the first time: startling, revelatory—and you wonder how you lived this long without recognizing your own face.

For me, this has happened a piece at a time: Denmark (Danish Modernism, Philosophy, Lifestyle), Photography (Light, Color Theory, Composition, Optical Science), Design (Interior, Industrial, Graphic) and, among others, Architecture and Horticulture.

When we were in Del Mar, CA this week, we stumbled upon a home that was the architectural actuality of all my unarticulated descriptions of what my ideal home could, should and would be.

This house defines me in many, many ways:

I would certainly have a thing or two to say about the landscaping—and the location of the house—but I could not improve on the architecture of this home one wit.

It's the melding of the elements: the prominence of the stone work; the accents of the wood; the fluted, semi-frosted windows; the bold, angularity of the walls and roof; the absolute homage to nature that I feel when I see it.

Perfection.

It's Frank Lloyd gone Modern, and it's my dream home—and I know it. I feel more complete, somehow, as if I know myself better now.

wes.

life IS stroboscopic.

2008-09-19T14:19:00.002-07:00

That occurs to me more and more: we are all standing in the rain.

Life is dark and cold and miserable and filled with just enough pulses of light to keep it worth sticking around for.

For those pulses of light are glimpses of things so beautiful—so powerful and so potent—that even their afterimage can dispel the dark.

Like 1.6 million volts of Concentrated Eternity.

Any more exposure, and we'd fry like bugs on ultraviolet.

wes.

the sudden, tragic, and very dramatic death of a friend.

2008-09-18T18:47:00.004-07:00

I guess it is better to burn out than it is to rust.

A sudden slip and a sickening sound. My camera was resting quietly on a table—or a table cloth, rather, on that table—when my client accidentally tugged the cloth, and off my $10,000 camera+lens went.

The lens cracked off the body right at the base. It was horrific.

Unbelievably (and I still don't believe it), my camera was unharmed. For insurance purposes, this is actually a bad thing, as the lens loss itself is not enough to justify a claim. But it is enough to make me eat two grand that I did not need to lose right now.

The saddest, perhaps, is that this isn't just a lens. I've had it for over 4 years, and it's made tens of thousands of photographs for me—including most of my best photographs—so its loss actually hurts my feelings, not just my pocketbook.

So now comes my mourning ceremony: I will dissect the lens piece by piece, salvage what I can, and send it respectfully off to the landfill.

ring a ling.

2008-09-18T18:47:00.003-07:00

You know—I mean really know—you've found your calling in life when you embed your employer's logo on your yarmulke.

The above-shot is from the wedding I shot in La Jolla this past weekend. Jeff is my good friend—a relationship, you may have guessed, that began at an Apple store—and brought me out to do the honors. And it was an absolute pleasure. Let me tell you: Jewish weddings are the most fun you'll have—by far the best one I've been to and photographed. I love the Jewish style.

Here's a shot from the Wisconsin wedding. I love it. That's all.

And here's another keeper (get it?)

More to come. You should check the site if you haven't recently.

wes.

stroboscopic.

2008-09-03T18:45:00.002-07:00

I've been in AZ for many, many years—and I ain't never seen nothin' like this.

It was just so wild: the absolute endlessness of it. This lightning went on for hours at a stroboscopic pace.

(also, I didn't even think 'stroboscopic' was a real word before this blog. now, it's one of my very favorites.)

Life is Stroboscopic.

cracking together; Sonoran Sun.

2008-08-28T10:56:00.003-07:00

Having just had a successful shoot at Fort McDowell Casino, my spirits were up—now mostly because I was OUT of the Metro and back in the land of my Saguaro Kin.

So, despite the triple-digits and humidity (LOVE me some Monsoons), I decided I wanted to make a personal image—and I did have something in mind: A Lit Landscape Image.

This isn't a simple thing, having done it before, to take my 7b out in the Desert and actually light something: to act upon, instead of being subject to the weather's whims.

Initially, I imagined axe-lighting a living Saguaro and letting everything else go dark. But when I needed to wiz and pulled off the road to do, the photograph presented itself to me: A gorgeous skeleton, surrounded by cumulus clouds, with Four Peaks on the horizon. Perfect.

So I lugged by 7b, my Magnum Tube and a Head over to it and went to work. By the time I finished, I was cracking and my feet were melting—and I couldn't stop smiling.

Here's the product. I hope you enjoy it.

I cannot WAIT for winter. I will be all over this country like a Rattle Snake out of the earth.

wes.

a dark knight.

2008-08-21T10:51:00.003-07:00

This week, I saw The Dark Knight for the 3rd time. Each has been different, and each better in its own way: First was Opening Night in Texas with my man Red Sanders. Opening night has its own charm, and I try to see every blockbuster (that I care to see) on opening night, because the crowd adds so much to the experience.

The Second round was here in AZ at the Ciné Capri with Lyndsay. The Ciné Capri is the greatest screen on the planet, and just the venue for such an epic film. It was frikin' awesome, dude.

This week I took my bro Eddie as part of a B-day present. This time we saw it IMAX style. What was special about the Imax experience is that the footage toggles between 35mm and 70mm formats. And I can promise you, the 70mm Imax film is the most beautiful image I have ever seen in my life. Holy Snap, the clarity, the detail, the endless visual feast.

Even after 3 times of seeing that film, I never once tired of it—tvært imod—I enjoyed it more with each viewing. This is due almost solely to the performance of Heath Ledger as the Joker.

I will put it this way:

I have never, ever enjoyed a performance more. Having seen hundreds and hundreds of films, I think that is saying quite enough. Absolute brilliance.

So if you haven't seen TDK yet (it's now the 2nd highest grossing film of all time), then I would seriously, sincerely, recommend you get out and do.

And if you have an Imax near you, don't pass it by.

wes.

the Rockstar.

2008-08-15T15:31:00.004-07:00

Every now and again I'll make an image that reignites my love for the still image.

Today was one of those days. I've made it the Flagship photograph of my site, because I love working with animals and love frozen moments.

I hope you enjoy it too.

wes.

no love, know love.

2008-08-08T07:35:00.003-07:00

until I had this boy, i did not know pure, selfless love.

(I sure wish the woman who made him would come home to me).

mugs.

2008-08-06T08:07:00.002-07:00

Romeo (camera left) insists on a "AD/Photographer" portrait at every shoot.

the 48-hour 1st.

2008-08-01T21:44:00.005-07:00

Phoenix—Birmingham—D.C.—Frankfurt—Milan—Bellagio—Bangkok—Singapore—Hong Kong—Los Angeles—Phoenix.

Full Circle.

I woke up at 5am in Singapore on August 1st; watched the sunrise on the way to the airport; watched the sun set over the Pacific; crossed the International Date Line; watched the Sun rise again on the Western Hemisphere (August 1st) as we approached LAX; watched the sun set on my way home from Sky Harbour in PHX.

Two Sunrises; Two Sunsets; One Calendar Day.

wicked.

A Complete Revolution of Planet Earth under my Belt.

wes.

keep out.

2008-07-29T10:58:00.003-07:00

keep out of this weed eater.

protect your rice bowl.

2008-07-29T09:58:00.002-07:00

That's what they say in Singapore; I reckon it's the equivalent of "cover your a--."

Nevermind that he's pointing over the guy's head; the point is unassailably clear: This is Singapore Law.

For our part, it was more like "shoot, do not be shot." We were trying to protect our rice bowls, as we found ourselves shooting illegally on a Military-protected island that is home to 80 of the largest Petroleum companies in the world, many of which you get your gas from every week.

Illegally, we learned, only after we'd surrendered our passports to the guards (who sported automatic weapons) and were being driven around by a frightened employee, who was telling us to photograph the plants as we drove by, and not to be seen.

Was this a commercial job or espionage? The line had become very blurry.

We found ourselves photographing from a covered parking garage, with our escort telling us to hide every couple of minutes from passers-by. It would have been hilarious, if it wasn't so dangerous (easier to laugh now).

Long story, but essentially (despite the monstrosity of the company we're shooting for) our contact didn't get the necessary permission to shoot the all the petroleum plants—though she asked us to photograph them and apparently assumed that it would all go "just fine."

Well, we survived, and actually got some good stuff—given the circumstances.

Today was much better. We had permission and were able to photograph at one very specific spot, inside and out. We also got high enough to shoot across the water at other plants. Technically illegal, I think, but all these companies are clients of our client, you see, and we're gonna get the shot, you see, 'cause we're in freaking Singapore, you see, and we can't just 'swing by' next week for pick-ups.

Singapore, by the way, is by all descriptions Communist. The government owns every building, every square mile of land, and even every taxi cab. It's its own country, too, I learned: a whopping 15 x 30 miles large. It's a city-country, you could say. And you honestly wonder if everything you're doing is punishable by law; chewing gum is, I was told. Then I was told that you can chew gum, but you can't have gum in your possession (pockets). Then I was told that you can chew gum, but you can't sell it. Then I was told that you can chew gum. This was all from 4 different people.

I chew gum, and it feels good to ride the law.

When you're on the equator, by the way, you sweat. Not as much as in PHX, I learned, but it feels like more. There is something wicked draining about the heat here. As part Saguaro, I think I feel it more than humans.

And when you're all covered in sweat, the best thing you can do is put on a thick long-sleeve shirt, a hard-had, and goggles that turn your face into a greenhouse:

Can I just say publicly that Red Sanders is one of my favorite people? We work smashingly together and despite seeing each other perpetually for 10 days, have only grown closer.

Here's a glimpse of what we are surrounded by on this island. It's like nothing I've ever seen, man. What kind of a world is this? I keep wondering. Here's a wicked-twisted petroleum city by night:

I gotta keep confidence, so that's all for now. I've shot hundreds of photographs over the past 10 days, and it's been a great job—despite the moral boundaries that I've been crossing the entire time. I figure it's better to take than to give, right?

Don't shop at Wal-Mart if you can possibly keep from it.

wes.

I spy with my little eye something Thai.

2008-07-27T11:41:00.011-07:00

We went from Italian Vagabonds to Thai Royalty (not quite, but it felt that way).

Believe me, when you pay $25 for a meal one day and $3 for the same quality meal the next day, you feel like a king.

From Bellagio to Bangkok—here we are, and there we were. We stayed in Thailand for 2 days to acclimate (because acclimating in Thailand is cheaper than acclimating in Singapore).

But not without headaches (you can't imagine the looks you get from people when you spend 75 minutes at one check-in counter):

Bangkok, Thailand is like nothing I've ever known in my many days on earth. All I can say is, if you have money, if you like to haggle over prices, and if you love being continuously bombarded with several strong smells—of varying attractiveness/repulsiveness—then Bangkok is for you.

It is a place where extremities prevail: population, heat, rich and impoverished, kindness in abundance and a counterfeiter's paradise.

"The Land of Smiles."

We stayed in a 5-Star hotel. It was outrageous. Too much for a simpleton like myself.

There was a shopping center there that would give Caesar's Palace a run for its money—and every thing at half-price, sans tax, and purchased from the most respectful people you've ever met. Dolce, Marc Jacobs, Hugo Boss, Prada, and even top-end car dealerships: Lambo, Maserati, etc—all under one roof. INSANE. I got 2 pair of glasses (reading + shades), a new prescription, the lenses put in and picked them all up 3 hours later—for the same price I would have paid in Italy for the frames alone (more irony: Italian Made).

Contrast that with the night markets, and you'll have some idea of the polarity that exists there. In a city of 9 million people, you can feel every soul at these places. I could do no description for it here, so you'll have to wait for me to post the videos I've taken.

Having been to the Dominican Republic, I thought I knew what poor was. I saw places here that no human should be subjected to. It was a reminder of how little we've done for true equality and what should be inherent human rights.

Again, the juxtaposition of such wealth and poverty is beyond belief. It's literally 5-Star Hotels surrounded by the worst slums imaginable; it's all swimming together in a culture that is racing after modernity, struggling for stability and clinging to history.

It's pushing 4 AM, so I hope you appreciate these posts. They're for me, most of all, to get this down while it's fresh; but I sincerely hope they carry something for the reader of this as well.

wesman.

(ps—I know what I can't take on the flight—but what about this small can of gas?)

Horizon to Horizon.

2008-07-26T12:39:00.005-07:00

You know it's a long flight when you watch the sun set—and then watch it rise—on the same flight. Such was the flight from Rome to Bangkok.

Bellagio. One of the many Gelaterias I visited:

Mmm...Gelato.

Bangkok, this is the craziest ride I've ever taken:

Stepping off after we toured the Night Market until Midnight:

Back to Milano. I love this car:

Back to Bellagio:

And Bellagio. These river stone streets are both aesthetic and therapeutic:

Now there's been some rumors around (Josh) that I am not working, but only playing. First of all: is it my fault if my work is my play and my play my work? Do what you love, says I, and you'll love what you do.

I am not writing in these passages the days of work, or the details of our hellacious days of travel, which have been ordeals beyond description at every ticket counter, check-in, security, gate and flight. Getting around the world with hundreds of pounds of photographic gear is akin to a jail-sentence. Flying from Rome, we paid more to ship our bags than we would have to fly First-Class for all of us—and that was after 4 hours of arguing with an Italian man over the cost (he wanted to charge 1,000 USD and we got it down to 600). Fortunately they lost the luggage and refunded the fee. Hoorah.

There have been some serious physical tests: 36 hours of perpetual travel, by ferry to car, car to train, train to airport, airport to airport—and all of this in the most stressful, rushed state imaginable—and all of it on NO sleep.

Yet it all makes for solid stories.

We shoot for 2 days in Singapore, which we leave for tomorrow, then it's home again home again, yippady yay.

wes.

Bellagio : Bellissimo.

2008-07-24T14:38:00.003-07:00

You know when a photographer can't do justice to a place that it's really great.

This place is beyond description, verbal or visual. I swear this is the Garden of Eden.

I took more serious shots that just might, but we'll have to see. For now, here's a couple snaps.

We have had a day of storybook luxury today, and fortunately most of it was free. I have only spent money on food, really, and that's good considering Americans are poor people here these days. I am, anyway...

More experiences than I can possibly relate today. I gotta crash, 'cause we're off to Thailand tomorrow and then Singapore for the last leg of our shoot.

I don't have photoshop on this computer (irony?), so forgive the screenshots. This was just before sunrise this morning.

And this is the view from my hotel room.

More to come...

wes.

the blade and chalice.

2008-07-22T15:49:00.005-07:00

I don't even know why I began this post. There are no adequate words for my experience today.

Suffice this: I saw the Last Supper by the Renaissance Master Leonardo Da Vinci today. It was an experience of absolute unexpectedness, considering the hundreds of times I have seen this painting, reproduced in various books, posters, images, movies, etc.

May I just say that I was humbled to my core at the site of a five hundred and fifty year-old masterwork hovering over me at a staggering 20x40 feet in size. I have never seen anything like it, nor do I expect to anytime soon. I felt, genuinely for the first time, what it must have been like to live in the dark ages and come upon such a sight. It induces—compels—belief, even if you know not in what: Gods, Art, History, Truth, or all of the above.

I would have been a faithful peasant, no doubt. These feelings only intensified upon experiencing the Duomo church in downtown Milano. Such a structure is simultaneously a shouting of praises to God and a flexing of the muscles of ancient Catholocism. What a force of persuasion that church was. Good heavens (or hell, depending on your belief). Take a second to comprehend the scale of this edifice:

Now imagine being a peasant in the Italian countryside in the 14th century, never having seen anything larger than your little cottage at a whopping 200 square feet. This is Coscto, Super Target, Las Vegas, Times Square and the Grand Canyon, all combined—and on crack. That's what this place is to you, Serf. You'd better believe you're a Believer.

wes.

Applecore, Singapore—Across the Pond.

2008-07-21T03:40:00.005-07:00

Fort Worth; Birmingham; D.C.; Frankfurt; MILANO.

Whether the sequence of our destinations became more or less exotic, there's no denying the coolness of where we are now.

Tysk Weinerbrød in my belly feels good.

I am fortunate enough to be here in Italy with my good friend Red Sanders; we are shooting a international campaign for a company that designs really BIG things for really big places. I think I'll leave it at that level of obscurity for now. Not that it's overly top-secret, though you might say that these locations could land you in prison if you were loitering anywhere near them.

It's been a long day. Circadian Rhythms are wacked at this point. We just arrived in Milan and are prepping for another shoot tomorrow. We'll get to enjoy the Land as well, spending the following day in Venice, which will be wonderful. Ah, Venice.

Then it's off to Singapore for yet another shoot and another world-experience. As of the flight to that place, I will be farther East than ever I've been, and by the time it's wrapped, I'll have circumnavigated the globe for the first time in my life. I think that's a big deal. We may also be spending a day in Thailand. I love that food.

Anyway, internet time is precious, so I'll post later and hopefully have some grand imagery to show on the flipside of it all.

I miss my wife and son terribly, but feel so blessed to do what I am doing.

wesman.

get over the color green.

2008-07-09T22:58:00.003-07:00

"There is a process of Westernization of the Perceptions that has to happen before the West is beautiful to us. You have to get over the color green; you have to quit associating beauty with gardens and lawns; you have to get used to an inhuman scale; you have to understand geological time."

—Wallace Stegner, Thoughts in a Dry Land.

Last night I learned something remarkable. I learned what the oldest living organisms on earth are. The funny thing about this is that I've been nurturing one of their cousins for the last 2 weeks, newly embedded in the soil of my entry way—with a 2-stop scrim shading it from the Sun's Summer rays. I place cubes of ice around its base during the days to help the transition to its new home, amidst Totem Poles and Palo Verdes; Saguaros and Agaves; Golden Barrels and Prickly Pears.

What is also significant (and in no way coincidental) is that this organism is my favorite of its type in the whole world; for me, it is the very heart and soul of the greatest region on earth. Its smell evokes the most primitive feelings—deep, ancient feelings—from my core in a way I cannot articulate.

The oldest living things on the earth are not the Olive Trees of Jerusalem; they are not the White Mountain Pines nor the mighty Sequoias. The oldest living things on earth are the quiet, humble Creosote Bushes of the American Southwest.

In Lucerne Valley, California—in the Mojave Desert—stands the King Clone: a circle of Creosote bushes that have stemmed from the same original root system for more than 11,700 years.

Here's a quote from a well-written article by Matt Weiser for the High Country News:

"What have these plants witnessed? They were on the earth when saber-toothed cats gored giant sloths. They survived the retreat of ancient lakes. The creosote was a one-stop pharmacy for the Mojave Indians. Its leaves, stewed into tea, treated the common cold, soothed arthritis, halted diarrhea and eased kidney pain.

Made into a paste, the creosote helps to heal wounds, bruises and skin lesions. Today we’ve learned that creosote contains a powerful cancer-fighting antioxidant. Compounds made from the plant effectively treat AIDS and herpes. The plant can even fight pollution by absorbing chromium from tainted land."

Not bad for a plant that most people would sooner rip from the ground than look at. I have become so fond of the creosote over the past 2 years: next to the Saguaro, there's no single Desert organism I love more. They have a transparent presence:hard to notice at first, then full of subtle grace. Caught between a bush and a tree, they take on somewhat of both's characteristics, each having a very distinctive way about their branches' shapes and forms.

Do you know that smell when it rains in the Desert? That's Creosote. Soft, earthy, clean and herbal—subtle and intoxicating.

And they are everywhere (and may they always be). If you're in undeveloped land in the Desert, you are most likely surrounded by them. Take a moment to greet one, grab a handful of leaves and breathe deeply.

"Hogwash" you say—and you well may. Then again, you're still not over the color green. You need a good bleaching. Come out with me and we'll crack together under the Sonoran Sun.

wes.

Soaked.

2008-07-09T19:19:00.004-07:00

Finn loves water. LOVES it. If he comes across more than a cup of water, he will do all he can to immerse himself in it. That wagon is (was) full of water, which became displaced by Finn—like a fat man in a tiny tub.

And Libby is (has always been) psychotically addicted to rocks. She will salivate over a rock like a pregnant woman over nachos. Pictured above, she is swimming in her own spit.

And I am saturated myself: with the love of the life that is mine. I am very fortunate, and I am fully aware of it.

wes.

independence year.

2008-07-02T08:18:00.002-07:00

The fate of unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this army.

—General George Washington
July 2, 1776

It was on this very day, two hundred and thirty two years ago, that the Continental Congress made the monumental decision to officially sever all ties and declare independence from Britain.

I just finished reading 1776—David McCullough's masterwork—for the 4th time. I have found that the greatest books I've encountered warrant multiple readings, and I do not doubt that I will read this book many more times before I depart this life.

For all my railings against the Bush fiasco; for all the possible Good that has been flushed down the American toilet; for all my sorrow over this country's continual failure to achieve its potential.

For all that, I believe more than ever that this is the greatest nation on earth—a Promised Land—that was founded on the shoulders and backs of some of the greatest mortals I have ever known about.

1776 is the book that fully opened my eyes to the miracle that is the United States: a divided cluster of British colonies—who somehow defied the most powerful nation in the world at the height of its reign—colonies that became the the foundation of next world power and the country with the most potential this world has ever known.

The sheer predicament of the Colonial Rebels cannot be fathomed without a reading of that text. What I truly love about my experience with 1776 is that my supposition of some "victorious uprising" and "swift defeat" of Britain by the Americans could not have been farther from the reality of their situation.

It was a guaranteed failure from the start; a lost cause and an insane undertaking.

And yet here we are.

It is extraordinary circumstances that cause ordinary men—men like Henry Knox and Nathanael Green—to do the impossible. And they knew the weight of their responsibility:

As we play our part, posterity will bless us or curse us.
—Henry Knox

For any who have not read this book, I could not begin to express its importance enough. It is a book that will give you renewed patriotism is your own land; it is a book that will humble you to the core for the blessings of your life; it is a book that will give you new heroes, men who stood by ideals that have been long lost in our contemporary society.

Get out and buy this book. I prefer the audio version, which is read by David himself.

Happy Independence. I love mine, and hope I can do some genuine good with it.

wes.

jimmy deluxe.

2008-06-25T11:04:00.003-07:00

If another band's cover of a great song is cool, then a band's remake of their own song is cooler.

And this remake is the coolest I've heard in a long while. They played it when we saw their acoustic show in Scottsdale a couple years back, and I flipped out. Now they've made it available, and I, once again, have flipped.

It's called "Your House (2007)."

This is J.E.W. at their best: A soulful mix of Emo and Alt.

You can find it on iTunes for purchase under the "Bleed American Deluxe" album. The Deluxe, by the way, has a slew of live, remix and other versions. I already had most of them, but not 'your house,' which I was elated to find.

You really should support this wonderful work.

I've posted it on my iWeb page, so you can hear it in its entirety: Click HERE.

I would also HIGHLY recommend Death Cab for Cutie's Attic Jam version of "Photobooth."

wesman.

For Josh, Stacie, Hannah, Hyrum and Brigham.

2008-06-21T22:24:00.004-07:00

After the indescribable nightmare of losing your baby girl; After the headache of dealing with police questioning and paramedics; After the burden of logistics: grave site, coffin, funeral service; After having to say farewell to that beautiful Angel one last time before she is laid to rest—until she rises again; After the dust has settled from the myriad phone calls, cards, meals, flowers and visitors.

After all that, when relentless reality kicks back in and 'normalcy' struggles to find its way home, I want you to know that you're still in my head and heart.

For any and all who read this: I can assure you that families are meant for much more than this life. There was a feeling—a Spirit so palpable in the room with baby Janie—unassailably attesting to her continued existence. It was a Spirit of overwhelming comfort and peace. Not of eternal loss, but temporal separation—and certain restoration: Body to Spirit, Mother to Daughter, Sister to Brother.

These are not feelings manufactured in the mind, but manifested from without. As the parent of a young son, my personal feelings of confusion, bitterness and sorrow all gave way to faith, peace of mind, and gratitude. Those are gifts given, not looked for.

What a fragment of Eternity we see. Yet, that fragment is enough. An Atonement has been wrought, beyond the deepest understanding. Janie was indeed too pure, too noble and too good for this life. Her work was done before she even got here. She got what she needed in the Second Estate and is ensured a Celestial Infinity.

We are not so fortunate. We still have work to do. Then—God willing—at long last we will ourselves be counted worthy to be in her presence.

These little children. Christ Himself gave us that perpetual reminder of their greatness in the eyes of Heaven. May we spend the rest of our adult days striving to become like our little children.

what goes around.

2008-06-21T16:14:00.004-07:00

What goes around
is what stops.
What rises up
is what drops.
What gives it up
is what dies.
What lives it up
is what tries.

I've been gone for some time now—literally and figuratively—absorbed in a project that cost me more of myself that I've ever devoted to any single event. Now, on the other side, I am full of restrospect—and futrospect—caught up in what it all meant and what it will mean.

I can't get the damned teaser I made to function online. I've only put a gazillion movies online, so don't ask me why. Sometimes, even the Mac can be frustrating. On that note: the new iMovie absolutely STINKS. Whereas most software evolves, it has taken a drastic turn the other way.

I was in Santa Monica on a whim while my film was getting processed, and I stumbled on a film called A Thousand Words, starring Mr. Eddie Murphy. I pretended to be an extra, and managed to get on set, right behind the Director and watched as they did a scene.

So here's Eddie, a 12K, a 12x12 silk, a couple Grips, some Extras. In short: a set.

If I could have chosen a star to see, Eddie wouldn't have been on the list. However, it was fun to watch the whole process unfold.

Here's some kids tryin' to keep cool in our toasty 114º weather today

I have loads and loads to write about, but have just not got it done.

Self-Reminders: "Are you Woody?" ; "The Happening: Worst Film Ever Made?"

wes.

I know how the dead bird speaks.

2008-06-06T23:11:00.004-07:00

It speaks through me.

I've had more than a few things die in before my eyes, but few have died in my hands. This bird did: I had my thumb on its breast as it took its last breaths; I literally felt its final heart beat.

These are small moments that etch themselves into one's being. I am not the same.

It looks even better on my new website, if you haven't been yet.

wes.