Katie and Hannah : Disposable Camera / June 11, 2016 by Liz Brown

I've been focusing more on being present. On creating life, and if art comes with it, all the more beautiful. To that end, I've been shooting more with disposable cameras in my "real life" (read: my non-hired shoots). So when Katie and Hannah visited from Colorado, I shot through the entirety of the 27 images in those 18 hours. These gals are such kindreds spirits and I love them and their company. This was our day. A little blurry, but beautiful and brilliant and summer and windows down and catching fireflies and not enough coffee or sleep but just right.

Just before dusk, we headed to the prairie.

I'll see you soon. Some state. Some day. We'll adventure.

Romance / June 5, 2016 by Liz Brown

Working at a job at a desk by myself and road tripping nearly every weekend has lent itself well to pondering. My most recent thoughts have circled around the concepts of the known and the unknown and the romance of both. All these photos are film and of my own city.

My first thought was this:

Maybe there are two great romances in life: the romance of the unknown and the romance of being known. Perhaps God is both.

I left the idea there—as a stand-alone thought, as a caption, as a few words with no more depth or conclusion. But they were a beginning. A few days later, those words chased me down again: this time in regards to a city. There are so many stories that begin in cities. Poems about cities. Songs about cities.

Ed Sheeran crooned: “The city never sleeps, and that makes two.”

The 1975 chanted: “Yeah, if you want to find love, you know where the city is.”

And those are just two that come to mind in a few seconds as I sit, writing, balanced on this little wooden chair.

Cities have a romance entirely unique to their size and diversity. They’re a delightful picture of the romance of the unknown. Unknown like eye contact with a stranger. Like buying a train ticket without looking at the destination. Like the feeling in your stomach when the airplane leaves the ground. Every day is guaranteed to be different, delightfully and extraordinarily so.

The city is dangerous in all the best ways. In this romance of the unknown, we may brave a bit more physical danger, but we are emotionally safe. Whereas in the romance of being known, we are safe physically; but emotionally, to be known, we give some person or some place the ability to draw close to us, the potential to reach close enough to hurt us. The unknown is a safety net of romance and being known feels like a free fall, not knowing if the bottom is a canyon or an ocean—but I wonder if the reality is the contrary. Perhaps the unknown is a free fall and being known is the safest place—it is just contrary to our feelings.

We tend to latch on to the romance of the unknown because it feels safer than the romance of being known. Or at least I that’s what I tend to do.

The biggest city I’ve ever lived in was Chicago. This week I thought about its adventure and mystery and opportunity and how difficult it was to leave. Years later, I still feel a kinship to those trains and cafes and dirty streets.

The year I left, I wrote:

“…in the month before leaving the city, I was offered somewhere to live and fantastic photography networking opportunities seemed to present themselves. I began to question everything. What was I doing? Am I crazy to move to Iowa? There’s so much more going for me in Chicago.

But here’s the thing: in Chicago, I can make something happen. There are so many opportunities. I can work hard and take the credit. And then there’s Iowa. If something is going to happen here, it has to be God. I felt as though there were less opportunities and less dreams.”

The city represents opportunities. The numerous unknowns that I can make my own.

The city is diverting, distracting, beautiful, romantic. It’s the perfect setting of a novel or to meet a stranger at dusk. When the world is so large and so completely out of my control, I feel strangely like it is more in my control. The unknown feels safe to my tumbleweed soul. It’s easier for me to cling to only one of those romances—the unknown—while forsaking the equally important romance of being known.

It’s why the boy across the bar is more intriguing than the one leaning against your elbow.

It’s why it’s easier to start a new book than finish the one on your backseat.

It’s why we run to mountains and away from our childhood homes.

It’s almost nearly easier for me to leave than stay. To stay and be known is messier. And more difficult.

The unknown is poetry. It’s picturesque. We can shoot mountains and write poems about the ocean or a boy whose heart we hope to meet. We don’t write poems about the grocery store at night or crying on the phone at 3am or the struggle to cultivate romance in a place that has lost most of its mystery.

However, in only romanticizing the unknown, we lose some of the depth of what love can be.

I’m of the opinion that romance must be both: unknown and becoming known and when I run from the latter, it’s only a sort of wanderlust or hunting for the person in the painting, only to realize he doesn’t exist. That the real people may have callused feet and messy hair and crooked collars and crooked smiles, but they have something the painted man or the mountains don’t: they are here and they can hear me and I can hear them and we can learn to know each other. It’s slow. Driving into the unknown is faster and fiercer and makes for more beautiful photos. And not that the unknown is always wrong. I simply think both are necessary.

I don’t want solely beautiful photos; I want a beautiful life and beauty comes with both length and breadth. With both unknown adventures and new humans and quiet deepness and late-night home-in-this-place laughter.

And the most beautiful thing about being known is this: you don’t have to face the unknown alone. You can face the unknown—known—and together.

(I’ll likely have more thoughts on this later, but these are a few hours of my life and thoughts on a page. Please, if you have thoughts about this, talk to me. I’m still pondering all of it.)

LANY / June 4, 2016 by Liz Brown

All the images are unedited disposable camera shots and all the lyrics in quotes are from LANY's "Youarefire."

"Half days and Fridays and any days..."

I've been hustling 10-hour work days this week so that I could leave work at 11am.

Our only stop on the way to Minneapolis was at a rest stop. The light and the trees were just lovely and Blake is quite dapper so I asked him for a portrait. I was afraid it would be too dark without a flash, but it turned out lovely.

I'm pretty sure I took this at Spyhouse Coffee, but I honestly can't quite recall.

"...any days without school."

It's summer and roadtrip season. The world is wild and awake and saturated in color and life and adventure.

Spyhouse coffee. Otherwise entitled: 4 shots of espresso is a lot.

"Can I get a portrait of you right here next to all the cars?" Real life. Blake taught me about seltzer water and it was very interesting and feels quite European.

"Means more days in more ways, I've been running around...with you."

Blake and I left Ames around lunch time and drove straight to Minneapolis. Coffee, and all black everything, and no rain, and good parking. The world was in our favour. The city was ours.

Blake was kind enough to drive downtown and I took photos out of the passenger seat window. These tunnels fascinate me.

I took this shot--with flash--as we left, avoiding eye contact as we ducked out of the door, after lighting up the foyer with my 90's camera.

Minneapolis was full of old signs like these. This particular one was one of our favourites.

The valets across from this restaurant were doing a crossword puzzle together.

"This is it."

LANY went on just after 9pm and we sang and danced until the last song.

OW: Oh Wonder / Oh Wow / Oh What a darling duo

Midnight found us in a white peeling parking garage (some might call it 'ratchet'), then we drove home, hands full of cold pizza, road full of fog, and eyes full of startlingly clear Minnesota stars.

"We are gold.
You are fire."

KC / May 29, 2016 by Liz Brown

'68: Round 2 / May 15, 2016 by Liz Brown

Last week I shot ’68 for the second time. In a short period of time, they’ve jumped from I’ve-never-seen-them-live to one-of-my-favourites-to-shoot. The dynamic between Josh and Michael on stage is energetic and they engage the crowd so well. Plus, they’re just rad humans.

Josh recognized me in the pit and played right to my camera.

These fellows are returning to Des Moines this summer. If you haven’t seen them live before, you’ve got to go. You can dance, sing, scream—all of it. It’s a blast and a superb way to spend an evening.

After Michael and Josh’s set, I was done shooting for the night. I stood on the right side of the crowded room—mostly teenage girls and guys wearing all black everything. For once, I had more color on than most of the folks around me: with my mom jeans and red Chucks. I head banged a little (more like “bopped,” if I’m honest), then wandered over to the merch table to say “hi” to Michael.

The evening ended in the best way. I was quite hungry at this point, so I decided to check out the snack booth in the back of the venue, sort of kitty-corner to where I’d been standing. I’d already eaten so many Clif Bars that day that I couldn’t quite eat another and needed “real” food. By real food I mean something like a hot dog. My standards for “real food” at a concert are pretty low.

But the lady working behind the counter told me they were out of hotdogs. Then my eye fell upon something else sitting behind her: popcorn. If you don’t know me, I love popcorn. As a kid, I would go with my family to the movie theater and my mom and I would finish a large popcorn—the kind with a free refill—before the previews ended. Not eating popcorn was the worst part of braces. But fortunately I’m past that stage in my life and I’m back to enjoying one of the best treats.

So I ordered it: a gallon-size ziplock bag full of move-theater-esque popcorn. I carried my prize back to the spot I’d been standing earlier. I wasn’t quite in the thick of the crowd, which was perfect for eating. As Bring Me the Horizon, the headliners, too the stage, I munched on popcorn and people watched. Any time you can watch a hardcore show—or any show, for the matter—while eating popcorn is a pretty swell night in my book.

Brian: Stranger Portrait / May 9, 2016 by Liz Brown

Last June, when Sarah and I went to Chicago, we took a lot of stranger portraits and this was my favourite set by far. All these images were taken within a few minutes. I saw Brian leaning in front of TopMan, quite Robert-Pattinson-esque in the best way, and summoned up enough courage to ask him for a portrait. He was rather convince he was going to be more awkward than photogenic and I dearly hope I proved him wrong.

'68 / May 8, 2016 by Liz Brown

I want to write more about my real life, so here is an attempt. I shot '68's show last night, and between bands snagged some portraits. I edited everything either with a VSCO 00 black and white filter or VSCO 05 Portra 100T--. In case you're curious.

This is Michael: he's in '68, the evening's headliner. I talked to him for a few minutes inside Vaudeville Mews, about Des Moines and Kansas City and burgers and donuts. In most conversations, at some point, I start talking about donuts because I'm awkward and that's my default. He was kind enough to continue the conversation and when I explained to him how I do stranger portraits and asked for his portrait, he said yes. We stepped outside and shot in the doorway of a partly-rennovated building then parted ways, him to play the show, me to walk around a bit more, then shoot it.

Between bands, I stepped outside to get some fresh air and get some portraits. Meanwhile, I shot a bit of the surrounding area.

Pro tip: wear mom jeans to show if you're shooting. The big pockets are perfect for lenses and prisms. Also, they're just comfy.

The next portrait I got was of the other half of '68: Josh Scogin. Josh and I had met briefly a few years ago, when The Chariot came through Chicago and we all went out for cake shakes, but we reintroduced ourselves and, once again, I asked him for a quick portrait. Shooting portraits this quickly is a fun challenge. You have a minutes (sometimes less) to scan the area, find a place, and pose a person. The area by Vaudeville and the Royal Mile was too colourful and distracting for my taste, but we didn't have time to find anywhere else. So I spotted the one place that wasn't splattered with paint--the stairwell. Josh nailed it. Then we made our way inside to watch Idlehands.

I've shot loads of hardcore shows; it's how I began shooting and I feel strangely at home in those loud, sweaty, screaming, dancing rooms. This was the first time I shot a hardcore show without the safety of a photo pit. It was exhilarating and I headbanged as I shot and only got hit in the head once.

Idlehands was a fun surprise. I hadn't seen or listened to them before, but quite enjoyed their set.

I missed '68 the last time they were in town--about 2 years ago--and I was not about to miss them again. I snagged a spot up front and watched and shot. I love how Josh and Michael play off of each other and seem to have a blast.

I'd seen Justin playing earlier in the evening (he's in Idlehands), then shooting around the venue with a disposable camera. Partway through '68's set, he came up to me and asked if I'd shot his band, too. Yup! I had. So after the show ended, he gave me an email to send the photos to and I asked, "Can I take your portrait?" He agreed and suggested the green room, where we used the single lamp to take this shot. He's about a foot taller than me, but I stood on the couch and we made the shot work. I'm all about light and people--this is both.

I was on my way out of the venue when Michael asked me what I thought of the show, so we chatted for a couple minutes, mostly about Zombie Burger. Then, because it's what I do, I asked him for a portrait. It was absurdly dark, both outside and inside, but we found a bit of light.

After the show and conversations, I wandered across downtown to Zombie Burger. I'm pretty sure I pounded some fries. The walk wasn't long on the way there, but it felt long on the way back. However, I snagged the shot below which nearly made the walk worth it. And I refuse to regret spending time outside or in my city. Slowing down is good for me. And, strangely, so are hardcore shows.

Paige in the Springtime / May 8, 2016 by Liz Brown

I thought it was foggy yesterday. As it turns out it was smoke drifting down from northern fires, which is totally insane. Weather is fascinating. If you're a meteorologist, could I job shadow you for a day? I'm very intrigued. Anyhow, the weather was peculiar, yet warm, and I was itching to go out and shoot. Paige met me at Mars Cafe and we hit the streets. By "hit the streets" I mean we took our cameras and went exploring.

This gal is a fellow adventurer and traveler and it had been way too long since we had hung out. We talked about our travels and wandered and found a sword-fighting Renaissance Fair group in the park! What an afternoon.

Abby at the Art Museum / May 4, 2016 by Liz Brown

I met Abby a few weeks ago at an art opening. We talked for quite some time, and have been friends ever since. Recently we went to the Des Moines Art Center to explore, check out the newest exhibit, and shoot some film. This whole post is film (portra 400, if I recall).

Abby has rad style and is full of ideas. I'm constantly surprised in the best way by the new people I meet in this city.

One of the gallery workers told us all about this sunflower display, but I don't recall all the details. He said that they were ceramic, hand-painted, and designed by a Chinese artist. The whole display was originally together when it opened, but since them the sunflowers have been separated and sent to different museums; the Des Moines Art Center only has a fraction of the pieces.

Greens on film are some of my favorites. You can't capture this digitally.

Emma in Black and White / April 16, 2016 by Liz Brown

Emma and I began as Instagram friends. We met in person last year, and meet up every time she is in town. Today we were at the same Instameet and ran around in the woods. I love this lady's creative spirit and how she chooses joy and chooses to see beauty and adventure everywhere. She's one of the most interesting artistic humans I know.

Estorie