I am now a Los Angeles Architectural Photographer
I wasn’t just blowing smoke or being coy for attention with all the hints I had been dropping lately. And while I still intend to fly back to Miami to service my existing clients, and to procure new ones, L.A. will be my home base for the foreseeable future.
It was the kind of tedious, never-ending journey that only Tolkien could enjoy and involved selling the house in Miami, packing everything I own, and driving across the country to rebuild my life and my business. At least Southern California’s weather is slightly more pleasant than Mordor.
I am completely new to the area, have no personal or professional contacts, and am doing all this during a once-in-a-century global pandemic that has devastated the global economy and crushed my industry. It doesn’t help that California is bursting with Covid, and there’s no telling when restrictions will ease up.
I have impeccable timing.
A tighter vignette of the Peterson Automotive Museum shot with my Canon 50mm Tilt-shift lens.
Photography is a hell of a drug…
Photography is not a career for the easily rattled. Even in the best of times a simple twist of fate can crash the feast and declare a famine. To survive as a creative professional in an oversaturated market, you need to have the stomach for armageddon. Something’s always after your lunch money. Whether it's a fickle algorithm, competitors who undercut, or AI piloted software that makes your Photoshop skills obsolete overnight, frequent, disruptive changes come with the territory. I am quite used to them at this point. It’s probably the only reason I can casually make such a drastic life-altering decision without hesitation and without freaking out. Because I am always somehow still here despite having so much room for improvement.
But resiliency does not mean the absence of fear. I do dedicate more time than I care to admit obsessing about failure; however, perpetually being at a disadvantage over the years has granted me the ability to commit to decisions without chickening out since I’ve already been through “the worst that could happen” several times as a creative entrepreneur.
Why should this be any different? Because I am a bit older and not as spry? Because I am a bit more entitled than I was when I was a newbie getting ripped off by realtors? Because I don’t understand Tik-Tok? Or is it because my luck might have stayed behind in Miami?
Rebuilding my architectural photography business from the ground up will be my biggest challenge yet. While I am not as clueless as I was when I first picked up a camera professionally over ten years ago, I still had a lot of room to grow in Miami. I’ve yet to complete my Jedi training, but I survived order 66 and now the Inquisitor has my scent. Los Angeles is a significantly larger market than Miami. There’s plenty to eat. But there are also some incredible photographers and filmmakers making the competition much stiffer. It is intimidating and I’ll have to find a way to make my presence known and act as I belong.
I will have to commit to a surge of marketing energy, networking, and hustling that will most assuredly end with my spontaneous combustion. Introverts like me aren’t designed to seek that kind of attention, not without a great expense to the soul. But Photography is life.
The Geisel Library at the UC San Diego Campus designed by William L Pereira is one of my personal favorite examples of brutalist architecture. It’s named for Theodore Seuss Geisel, probably known to the rest of the world as Dr. Seuss.
Rebuilding an Architectural Photography Business
I will have to commit to rebuilding my portfolio. I cannot rest on my laurels and assume that because I know what I am doing and because I’ve shot for some major clients, and thrived under some absurd deadlines and complications, that anyone here will care. Miami is not Los Angeles. There’s a lot less Art Deco and the food is much better. I have to show people that I can shoot what’s here just as well. Clients want to see that you’ve already done what they’re paying you to do. This means a lot of gas money invested and a lot of time on the road scouting and pursuing compositions at the right time of day or night with no immediate payoff. Los Angeles is huge. Drive two hours in any direction and you’re still not where you need to be.
I spent almost a decade shooting architecture in South Florida for clients and for myself. It was a never-ending project: A “journey is the reward” kind of ordeal. I can name every building and its architect. Los Angeles is ten times as big, overwhelming yet exciting nonetheless because, to be frank: the volume of quality architecture significantly surpasses what’s available in South Florida, and it’s not even close. I am a kid in a candy store and I think now might be a good time to pick up a cocaine habit, or at least start drinking coffee.
I am happy to report that I’ve already checked off one bucket list building. The Peterson Automotive Museum (cover photo) was once a department store. It was redesigned by renowned international architecture firm Kohn Pedersen Fox Associates (KPF). I love what they’ve done with the place. The cherry-red facade laced wrapped in stainless steel ribbons gives the impression of a sports car in motion and offers a visual cue for what’s within. I saw this building on a previous visit to L.A. but couldn’t shoot it then because it was covered in construction debris. Three years later I expected it all to be clear. I was wrong. It was not. But at least this time it was within the realm of “long photoshop session.” I never let inconsiderate cities ruin my compositions. I knew that this building just begged to be shot with the low hanging, sunset (for the vignette) as the stainless steel ribbons would reflect the light with some intense specular highlights that would offer a rich contrast that really chiseled the building’s texture. Shooting it on the 50mm Canon Tilt-shift lens was a no brainer once I saw how I could make the building feel big, while also creating natural leading lines, left to right, that guide you to the brightest part of the frame. The eyes get a comfortable sandbox to focus on the texture.
The evening’s twilight shot would give that same steel a more subtle, calming role as it would reflect the colors of the sky on the west side while providing a neutral balance to the bright red LEDs to the east. There was even more construction debris to remove for this shot, but it was worth it.
I am happy with the results from my first photo venture in SoCal. It’s a good omen. But I do predict some late-night surges of “oh god what have I done?!” in the months to come.
There’s a plan for that.
One of my favorite scenes in any film is the “Final Swim” in Gattaca where the film’s protagonist, Vincent, challenges his brother, Anton to the recurring test of endurance they’d been waging since childhood. They swim out into the ocean, as far as they can go until someone gives up. Anton (a detective) had been pursuing Vincent throughout the second act of the film for his defiance of society’s laws that dictate only genetically enhanced humans could hold certain powerful jobs. He was convinced that Vincent committed murder to avoid detection for his fraudulent identity posing as a former Olympic hero to gain employment in space exploration. “Normal” humans weren’t viewed as capable of anything more than menial labor and meager lives. Vincent always lost because Anton’s enhanced genetics gave him the endurance of a real Olympian. But Vincent has always worked ten times as hard to make up for his genetic shortcomings and this time, it pays off. Anton loses the will to continue despite having every measurable advantage. A stunned Anton pleads with Vincent to go back before they drown as they have lost sight of the shoreline. He then asks Vincent how he did it and Vincent responds with “I never saved anything for the way back.”
It’s no secret that we photographers and filmmakers own a lot of expensive business assets: Cameras, lenses, lights, computers, specialized tripods, and gear heads, etc. So one little psychological trick I pull out of my sleeve during extreme existential tantrums is to remind myself that I can always liquidate and sustain myself with those funds until I figure out what else to do with my life. So I should just push forward no matter and take risks that would paralyze others. That is my way of saving nothing for “the way back” because going back “home” is not an option. I’d rather drop dead in the gutter, broke and destitute than return home in defeat. If you can’t tell, leaving Miami was motivated by more than just career ambitions.
Los Angeles is currently booming with new housing and architectural developments and construction. But California has always provoked in me that same wanderlust that I imagine existed when it was a new frontier of opportunity for settlers venturing out west. As an architectural/commercial photographer, filmmaker, and freelance DP, it is the perfect place to utilize the spectrum of my skills. I am optimistic because my versatility can help me find work in a variety of places.
I look forward to updating this blog with strategies and progress as I document my efforts for a fresh start.
The Pacific Ocean is a soothing presence. More beautiful than the Atlantic Coast in every way. I took this shot in February of 2020 in Torre Pines Beach while visiting a friend in San Diego. Little did I know then that it would be the last travel photo I’d take until further notice…