Hello my friends, and welcome back. I’m currently in the middle of planning and shooting an exciting project, something quite different from previous and work and I’ll be excited to share that when it finishes up. Today though I want to talk about music and how it has influenced my life and my photography. It might seem random but as you’ll see, the two are inextricably linked in my creative process.
I’m almost positive that I could sing before I could speak, or at least before I formed memories of speaking. There exist audio recordings of my brother and I singing Christmas songs and nursery rhymes from when I was around a year and a half or so and my mom still likes to trot them out now and again even as I approach fifty. I sometimes wonder if my understanding and love of music was hereditary. My biological father Gary was a musician in California in the 70’s, and apparently he was pretty good. He left us when I was three months old, before the coffee got cold as the saying goes, so I never knew him when I was young and only had old tapes and a few pictures to prove that he was even real for most of my life. Some of my earliest memories though are of my mom and brother and I sitting at my grandparent’s house with the Grand Ole Opry on tv and my grandma singing along, or listening to my grandpa play Johnny Cash on the guitar. We moved to Salt Lake in the early 80’s where my mom met the man I call my dad and although their story isn’t mine to tell, music was involved in that too. They danced to Johnny Lee’s “Looking for love” and whenever I hear that song I still think of them. Country music was an early staple, and I grew to know and love the music of Willie and Waylon, Johnny Cash and George Jones, Merle Haggard and Conway Twitty and all the rest.
All throughout my childhood, music was playing. Dad loved the oldies and mom loved her country music and of course, Elvis. Her love of The King would require its own entry here, and again it’s not entirely my story to tell. But my folks gave me the blueprint for a life filled with music and as I got older I started to discover more beyond what they had shown me. We moved up to Spokane, Washington in the late 80’s and when we moved into our first house I got my own radio. The local country station was KDRK, and I had it on all the time. One of my favorite memories was meeting Garth Brooks. His first single had just come out “Much too young to feel this damn old” and I bought the cassette single and played it constantly. When the radio announced he was coming to town and doing a meet and greet at the local Kmart, I begged mom to take me and she did. There were maybe a hundred people in line to meet him, nothing like the years that followed after he became the biggest star in the world. I remember waiting and being so nervous but he was so cool. He talked to me like an equal and signed some items I brought and when I left I was pretty sure I was his biggest fan. It’s funny, in the times he has come back since then he has sold out every time and had to do multiple shows to keep up with the demand.
Garth Brooks’ Debut Album
Little did I know when I met him that he’d soon be the biggest star on the planet.
In the mid nineties I started to branch out. It wasn’t cool to like country music then, and I’d get teased in school for not listening to the station which played all the rock and pop hits of the time. So it was peer pressure at first, I wanted to belong and it was already hard since I was the new kid. Even when I wasn’t the new kid anymore, I still felt like it. Anyway, the world of music opened wide when I discovered Pink Floyd. My neighbor Jim, who has since become a music producer in the area, showed me the “Pulse” album. I saw it on his shelf and the little light was blinking forever and never stopped and I noticed it every time I went over, so I finally asked him what it was. I had no idea music could be like that. The way the songs breathed, the atmosphere they created, the space for guitar and ambience, the way that Roger Waters’ lyrics meant something beyond just love stories, it absolutely blew my mind. I became obsessed with The Floyd and got all of their albums and listened to everything to the point that friends and girlfriends would think something was slightly wrong with me. But that’s how I did it and how I still do it when I discover a new artist. I want to understand them top to bottom, inside and out. The magic of David Gilmour’s guitar made me want to learn and although I’ve never reached those same heights, I still play every chance I get.
As the years passed, other artists came into my world, some stayed. Sting has been one of my north stars of music almost as long as Pink Floyd and there was a time when I probably listened to “Fields of Gold” fifty times a day. Some didn’t stick though. I went through the obligatory Dave Matthews Band phase, seeing them live upwards of thirty to forty times before the flame fizzled out. Once they lost LeRoi Moore, it seemed to me that the soul of the band left. All of this is to say that I never really constrained myself to a genre or a style. I liked whatever sounded true, is how I think of it. Looking back, I can see that the music that stuck with me tended to have been written by the artists who performed it. After the mid nineties I never listened to the radio much and once I noticed the way the culture around popular music tends to repeat itself, I had no interest in that. Gary ended up making an appearance in my life when I was twenty three. He came up here to visit and to meet my brother and I for the first time. One of the great memories of that week was when he plugged in his karaoke machine and we spent the evening drinking beer and singing together. I saw firsthand what a powerful voice he had and began to understand what my mom might have seen in him all those years before. I remember singing “My way” by Frank Sinatra, but I sang it the way Elvis did and I’ll never forget the look on his face when it was done. There was pride there, love and even a little amazement. For that one moment at least, we were father and son. I’d love to say it was a healing experience and that we had a great relationship after that but that wasn’t how it went. He left to go home and basically disappeared again. He did call me once, about a week before he died, but I didn’t answer. He left me a message about wishing he could talk to me, and how he wanted to tell me about what was going on with him. The anger still burned in me though, and I never returned the call. A week or so later I found out he died, and as I’ve gotten older it has become one of the greatest regrets of my life that I didn’t give him that moment of peace, whether I thought he deserved it or not.
If I had to pick, I’d say this is my favorite song of them all.
When I met my wife, Jennifer, in 2008, music was there. I love showing new music to people and when I met her I had recently discovered Ray LaMontagne. I loaned her one of his cds when we started dating, and he became the soundtrack of our first years together culminating in her first ever concert. We drove to Western Washington in 2010 to see Ray when he opened for David Gray and have seen him several times since. His music and his voice always brings us closer together and reminds us of how we’ve been able to make this thing work even through the ups and downs of life and family. We brought things full circle with Ray by introducing him to the kids. His “Ourobouros” record was the inaugural album we chose when we started our tradition of picking a record and sitting together quietly as a family while listening to it, and then sharing what we thought or felt after it was over. He holds a special place on our family’s heart and I believe his album “Monovision” to be one of the great artistic achievements of the 21st century. It was written, produced and performed entirely by Ray himself and is just a master class in tasteful songwriting.
How does any of this relate to photography? Well, I’m getting there. But I think it’s important to understand that music for me isn’t just something I listen to while I perform life. To me, it’s an integral part of the whole thing. The music I love most is likewise more than just a sound in the background. I gravitate towards artists who write their own music, those who tell a story and make us part of their world.
Anyway, in October of 2014 I was struggling. My job as a production planner at a local thermoplastics company was being eliminated and they were going to move me to a machinist job on the night shift. My son, Liam was a little over a year old and I was facing the prospect of a pay cut and losing out on so much time with him, It had me feeling pretty low. On the 14th of October I picked him up from daycare like I always did but instead of driving home I decided we should drive out by Greenbluff. I remember that day so well, it was one of those rare Autumn days where the sunlight is burnished by a cool breeze and the late afternoon sun illuminates the trees such that the world seems to be made of copper and gold. Somewhere on the drive, “Raglan Road” came on. It’s an old Irish folk song by Luke Kelly and The Dubliners and I’d discovered it after seeing the film In Bruges. It was the first song that Liam ever learned to sing and when it came on that day he sat in the back in his little car seat and sang while drove. At some point during the song I remember becoming overwhelmed with emotion. Everything that had been going on in life sort of reached the surface. I pulled my truck to the side of the road and let it all wash over me. The music, the light, the colors of Autumn, my precious son in his little carseat singing, the job, the uncertainty, it all coalesced and began to form images in my mind. I don’t know how long we sat there, with the song playing on repeat, but when the full mood of the moment passed and I examined the residue of the vision I was left with the idea of photography as a way forward. I must have sounded like a madman when I called my wife to talk about what happened, but you’d never have known it. She understood that things were changing and she believed in me and did her best to support the pivot.
As I went down the path of the photographer, music remained a constant source of inspiration and in August of 2016 I was inspired to do the first substantial project I had yet attempted. I was still working in commercial glass and we were on the road all the time, so I had plenty of time to listen to music while the scenery flew by. I remember one day listening to a song called “Goodbye in her Eyes” by Zac Brown Band. There’s a line in that song where he says “sometimes I feel like a clown who can’t wash off his makeup” which I just thought was a brilliant way of describing how it was to be a man in love in the modern day. The words fired up my imagination and I started to build a story around them. I reached out to some local makeup artists and found one willing to help me and called my nephew, Tyler to model for it. Sadly, only one photo from that day survived the great hard drive crash of 2019, but it remains one of my favorite portraits. The success of that shoot prompted me to think about what if I did a female version? the idea was that these two character would have been lovers, but were separated by time or some other circumstance and there would be echoes of each within the other. I reached out to Jessica, who had already become a staple of my work by then, and began planning. We were given some vintage dresses by a local theater which was closing down but all I lacked was a location. This was solved y happenstance as one day Tyler and myself and my daughter McKayla were walking around one of the old mansions up on the South Hill. A gentleman saw us and came out to say hello, he was very kind and he offered to give us a tour of the house. We’d barely finished covering the first floor before I knew that this would be the perfect location for the shoot with Jessica and I asked the man if that would be something he’d allow me to do, and he said he would. So many things that happen to us in life are the result of seemingly random meetings. It reinforces my belief that if you’re respectful and cool to people as often as you can, good things will come your way. Looking back on the images from that day, which you can see below, my only regret is that my skill at that time had not caught up to my vision. If I could do that work now, with all I know of lighting and craft and storytelling, I know the work could be even better. Regardless, I’m still proud of the images and the memories made that day.
During the Classic Portrait run of 2019, music again played a crucial role. What started as an idea inspired by the photo studio in Red Dead Redemption 2 became something far more as the music from the game ended up inspiring many of the portraits of Tyler I made during that run. The portraits of Shaley who goes by the name “West Desperado” and is one of the top western fashion models out there today, were all inspired by listening to Chris Ledoux and especially his song “Western Skies.” Because you see, even though I branched out beyond country music, I’m still a Western man at heart and the soul always return to the things that nurtured it most. One of my great ambitions is to find and photograph some of the cowboys and ranchers of The West who still live a semblance of the old life. And yeah, that ground has been covered before, Richard Avedon being the most famous example. But I’ve always thought that someone born with the spirit of this place might be able to lend a perspective that might still be fresh.
Anyway in 2023 came the table portraits, and again music was the catalyst. Some years before, I had discovered the music of Jason Isbell, one of the most prolific songwriters of the modern day. On a cold winter day, driving down to Nampa, Idaho for a glass job I read an article about him on some random website and thought maybe I should give him a listen. It had been a long time since I found a new artist who really spoke to me, and Jason’s music spoke louder than most. Every song was good, album after album. “Southeastern” was my gateway and “Traveling Alone” was the first song that struck me, because that’s what I was doing out on the road all the time. Sure, I had coworkers but the men of that industry didn’t quite understand someone who lived with an artist’s mentality so the loneliness was deep. I raised my kids on his music, after that he was the main guy for me and still is. Anyway in summer of 2023 he finally came to Spokane and we got tickets for the whole family. It would be Liam and Calliope’s first show and it was at the historic Fox Theater. “Weathervanes” had just come out, and we played that album on repeat for so long that we all knew every song by heart. The day of the show I got this feeling that we should head down to the Fox, maybe watch them unload and see if we could see anyone from the band. We didn’t, but we did talk to the security man for a while, I think we stayed a couple hours just talking to him and by the time we left he told my kids “maybe just wait around after the show, you’ll probably be able to wave to him at least.” What a show it was, too. I feel like Jason and the 400 Unit (his band) altered the structure of the theater that night, it was so good. We got eleven songs from “Weathervanes” and many of our other favorites as well. I’ll never forget holding Calliope in my arms during the encore as they came back out with “24 Frames”. That night is etched in my memory. After the show, we did what the man suggested and hung around out by the buses. We didn’t cross any security lines and we didn’t make a nuisance of ourselves and when his bus started up we got so excited. Someone must have told him we were out there because when he got to his bus he didn’t slow down and came right up to us. I remember my first thought being “holy shit, he’s big” because he had a good three or four inches on me and his hands were gigantic. He showed us all such kindness. Shook my hand and then met each of my kids and my wife, when he met Calliope (who is the same age as his daughter) he got down on one knee and talked to her like she mattered just as much as the rest of us. Third show of a three day run and he had to have been dog tired but he gave us a few minutes of his time and we still talk about it to this day. As it was time to go he looks at me and says “well dad should we get a family picture?” and his assistant took my phone and captured the most iconic image, which you can see below. We have it framed and it sits on our mantle, always. You can see the happiness in everyone’s face, one of those legendary moments.
Family picture with the great Jason Isbell
In the days that followed I became so inspired. Here was a guy who was making his art, the way he wanted to make it, and he was finding success. He and I are the same age, and it made me think of ways that I could honor that spirit. From that meeting came the first image in the table portrait series. My daughter McKayla had a friend named Jordis and I knew as soon as I met her that she would be an amazing subject for a portrait. I called my friend Jillian, a makeup artist with whom I’d worked on many projects down at House of Pop and we set it up pretty quickly. During the setup I decided to play a Beatles record, “Magical Mystery Tour” and I filmed a little video showing the setup as well as Jordis in the chair getting her makeup done. This would become a huge part of the ritual of making the table portraits. Each subject that followed (my initial goal was 100) I would let them choose an album from my record collection that we would listen to as we photographed, and then I would make a little video panning around the record player, showing the music and then the lighting and finally the camera would land on who it was I was photographing. I began to realize that the collaboration, allowing the subject to participate beyond just the face in the picture was a subtle but crucial way to break the ice. After all, some of the people I worked with I had never met in person, or had only met briefly.
For my series of Calla Lilies too, music has been a through line. The series wasn’t inspired by music, but it has become a way to tell the story of those images. If I were to examine my life in depth, I’d find that at every junction, turn, twist, hill and valley, music has been there to either move me forward or hold me in the moment. I remain forever thankful to my parents, my grandparents and everyone who has ever said to me “listen to this one, I think you might like it.” I still listen to Pink Floyd, Sting, Ray and Jason Isbell, and there are many others I could name. Jeffrey Martin, Lord Huron, John Denver, Charles Wesley Godwin, John Lennon and George Harrison, all come to mind when I think of some favorites. In the past year or so I’ve rediscovered the incomparable Leonard Cohen, and as with Floyd and Isbell before, he has opened up an entirely new way of thinking about music. His poetry and the way it’s delivered, his longevity, his process of never rushing anything, has inspired me immensely. What I find most incredible about Leonard is that he only ever got better as he aged. His early work is lovely, poetic and very much in the tradition of a folk artist, but when Cohen reinvented himself in the mid eighties, in his fifties, it’s as if he began his truest work. From “I’m Your Man” to “The Future” and “Ten New Songs” to the final masterpiece “You Want it Darker” Leonard gave hope to every artist in their middle age who feels past their prime. What I learned from him is that creativity never withers and dies as long its nurtured with seriousness and intent. Listen to “Thousand Kisses Deep”, which I believe to be his greatest work, and you’ll understand what I mean. A younger man simply could not have believably written such a thoughtful take on aging and delivered it like a mountain god who has just been awoken from a thousand year slumber.
For me, music is as important to life as family and love and all the rest and I think that holds true for a lot of people. Anyway folks, I hope this hasn’t been too much of a slog, a man gets windy when the wistful reminiscence sets in. Thanks for sticking around and I’ll see you next time.
-Cory