Seattle

Goodbye, Mr. Gill /  by Danette Davis

It’s been a while since a journal post. Life is constantly happening. Clearly, I’ve been hiding out from the music scene, though it brings me great joy to see all my friends playing gigs. The recent windstorm finally took out our old deck. Mr. D and I spent yesterday starting the process of removing old wood. I have to say hitting nails against concrete during these crazy political times allowed me to let go of some angst. I was tired, hungry and cold by the end of the day. 

As I was shedding my winter clothes, Mr. D shares the news Andy Gill has died. I was a little confused by this news.  He seemed too young. I remarked that photographing Gang of Four at the Modern Sky festival was a definite highlight for me, and that my photograph of Andy cast in blue light has always been a favorite. 

 

Gang of Four was the last to play after a long day of photographing. I was on my feet all day and the day before, true to Seattle, it was a torrential downpour, followed by blue sky the next day. By the evening, no rain, but it was cold. The Modern Sky festival had some of the best lighting I have ever seen at an outdoor Seattle Center performance. My energy changed and so did the crowd’s when Gang of Four took the stage. When I’m photographing shows, sometimes it’s easy to become bored. I think I’m as only good as the energy of the band or person on stage. Luckily, only a handful of people have made me feel this way. I truly did not feel this way watching Gang of Four play. I try to make a point of photographing everyone in the band in a single photo and a series of group photos. That night, I was mesmerized by Andy and the dynamic between him and band.  At one point, Andy made eye contact with me. It threw me off my game for a moment – the brief fear of intrusion of the artist space. I saw in an obit that Andy made a point of looking at the audience.

I remember when it was all over feeling excited, albeit exhausted,. As I started to view hundreds of photos, I found myself smiling. There was Andy, not in the stance he’s was well known for, but staring out into the audience. I wonder what he was thinking.

Finding my tribe at Crystal Beth & the Boom Boom Band /  by Danette Davis

I’ve been thinking about a conversation I had recently with a fellow artist. I mentioned that I’ve been looking for my people - fellow photographers to discuss the craft and history of photography. My friend’s advice was that it’s all right to make your own family. I realized I’ve always connected with people in this way. I’ve formed a variety of friends. It was a survival mechanism often being the only brown girl in a space. The night I attended Crystal Beth’s (Beth Fleenor) final show, to promote her new album Push Thru, was an exploration in that thought process. I typically hide behind my camera. I prefer to not be noticed. It is, however, a rarity to see a woman photographer at concerts. I always smile when I do notice one. My mission that night was to open myself up to connecting with new people and to capture Crystal Beth, an artist I admire very much. Indeed the title of Push Thru is relevant to this moment of chaos and personal struggle. Crystal Beth’s vibe asks her audience to let it all go.

The lighting at the Nectar Lounge is better than most smaller clubs in Seattle. I photographed Sammus there and was really surprised by the dramatic lighting at times. Many people know I love Wong Kar-wai films. The main cinematographer on his films is Christopher Doyle. He has a way of making color pop off the screen. He embraces it rather than attempting to overly correct. If I photograph a club with lighting that relies heavily on red or blue, I attempt to figure out how to make it pop in some way. It also helps when the artist is energetic and dynamic. I want to photograph every thing, but sometimes I miss the shot and just embrace the imperfection. Film photographers didn’t always have the perfect photo, particularly some of the older rock photos and even those of jazz artists were blurry. The gallery below is a collection of photos that aren’t perceived as perfect by those in the digital age of photography. There are several photos in which the artist is out of focus but the lighting is dramatic (Michael Owcharuk, Kathy Moore, and Kathy and Beth Fleeonor).

The first time I photographed Fleenor was at an artist loft performance. In this intimate space, I was mesmerized by her voice. I kept missing the Crystal Beth & the Boom Boom band shows around town. I knew from Facebook photos these shows insisted the audience engage. She was raw, vulnerable, joyful, and danced. I love to dance, but Fleenor is unpredictable. She’s lost in the music. I knew that night I wanted to get a picture of her in flight, but I managed only one (first photo).

I realized looking through the photos of the show that I’ve photographed many Seattle musicians, and many of them seem to know me. We connect with each other sometimes in awkward conversation. I’m in awe of their musicianship and actually how kind they are. It’s always my goal to observe and document their artistry. They may not know it but they are my tribe.