25 Minutes | A Story of Help Portrait

1. Find somebody in need.
2. Take their portrait.
It's that simple.
The Help Portrait Mission

Laura and me in Studio 2

Watch this before reading.

This morning my alarm went off right as I was getting comfortable. Generally when this happens, I hit the snooze button, roll over and go back to sleep. Then I repeat that same process several times. Life as a college student.

But today was different. Instead of rolling over into that one elusive spot, I wedged open my eyes, climbed down to the floor, and jumped in the shower. As my brain began to realize that sleepy time was now over, thoughts began to flood as quickly as the water peppering my body. I knew I was about to do something that would impact me, but I had no clue what to expect.

Two hours later, after watching a foggy sunrise on the long drive, our small group arrived in Bentonville to participate in our first Help Portrait ever. With anticipation, my partner Laura and I discussed our shooting strategies and ideas for the day as we tested lenses, batteries, lights, and put the finishing touches on Studio 2 - our home for the next nine hours. The finishing touch, a folksy Pandora station featuring the likes of The Civil Wars and Mumford, was put into place as our studio's assistant ran us through the day's schedule. Eight families are going to come through that door. It is mine and Laura's job to make them feel beautiful. This most likely will be the first time any of these people have ever had their pictures done by professional photographers. We get 25 minutes with each family. Down the hall, in Studios 1-9, these same details are being discussed. 25 minutes.

Our first subjects are late. Our assistant brings them in and lets us know that we have about 10 minutes. Single mother. Newborn baby. "She just got out of ICU last week" the mother says timidly, barely meeting our eyes, "She's two weeks old." Between flashes we learn that the baby only weighed two pounds when she was born.  We chat. Laura gushes. A smile begins to form in the mother's eyes. Soon, the smile spreads to her mouth. Joy. 10 minutes. The now seven pound baby opens her eyes for the first time to look at us as they leave Studio 2. I look at Laura, tears are forming in the corners of her eyes.

I walk the memory card down the hall, past multiple other studios, and hand it off to our editor. Back at Studio 2, our assistant brings in our next subjects. Another mother with two kids, ages one and two, pregnant with her third. The kids aren't interested in coming into our studio, but would rather run up and down the hall. Ten minutes later, we coax them in and shut the door. Laura and I look at each other. 25 minutes. The kids are shy, the mother is worried about her appearance. We smile, laugh, joke. Everyone loosens up. Boom. The kids are running everywhere now. "Look, that's you on the screen! Who is that?!" Our assistant appears. We're just getting started. "Your next family has canceled, you have more time." Relief. More pictures. The toddlers are hugging us now. The mother is laughing. Flash. Flash. Time's up.

"She doesn't smile," our next subjects, a single mother with her four year old daughter, "Awhile ago they took pictures of her at her school. When I got them back she wasn't smiling in any of them." Flash. Blank stare. Laura to mom - "You look like a model! Have you ever modeled before?" "Yes, when I was younger, then I got too fat." Flash, flash. We smile, laugh. Mom starts to smile and play with her daughter. She tosses her up into the air and catches her. Flash. Toss. Flash. Then a smile appears on the little girl's face. A big smile. Flash. Flash. 25 minutes.

Lunch break. On our way back to Studio 2, Ron - one of the people responsible for escorting the subjects from registration downstairs to the studios upstairs - catches me. "We just gave the finished prints to the mother and daughter you just shot. She took one look at them and burst into tears." Ron has tears in his eyes. I tear up.

Two more families. Many smiles, lots of laughter. Another break. Laura and I wonder if anyone else is going to visit Studio 2. As we begin to think that all our other families haven't shown up, our assistant brings in our final subjects. A mother, probably my age, and two daughters, ages two and six months. After a short amount of time, smiles are coaxed out of everyone. The two girls attach themselves to "Miss Laura." Flash. Smiles. Big hugs. 25 minutes. Mom literally has to pry the two year old out of Laura's arms. The little girl cries. Laura cries.

We deliver the last prints to the mother - the first time of the day we personally get to hand our work to the subjects. "Oh wow. Those are beautiful." The two year old spots Laura and runs into her arms. The mother hugs us tightly and whispers "Thank you so much. Thank you." We say goodbye. Laura cries again. I tear up.

We pack up all our equipment and say goodbye to Studio 2 and all of the photographers who are now friends. On the drive home, "We are so blessed."

We'll probably never see any of the families again. We'll probably never see the photographs we created today. But, we will remember the smiles and the tears. We only gave photographs today. We received so much more. Our photographs may not change any of our subjects lives, but our subjects certainly changed ours.

I'm crying again.
-Matthias

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Jeans (Or Why I Am Stuck)

I have often said that I wish I had invented blue jeans: the most spectacular, the most practical, the most relaxed and nonchalant. They have expression, modesty, sex appeal, simplicity - all I hope for in my clothes.
-Yves Saint Laurent

All of my favorite pairs of jeans have ripped in a certain somewhat embarrassing area in the past few weeks. The rips aren't large, but they're there and that's enough to warrant exile to the permanent dirty-clothes pile (I have two dirty clothes piles, the one that gets washed on occasion,and the one that never gets washed because the other pile takes priority...). It's sad having to exile my favorite jeans, because they're always the ones that were most expensive, Express, Bullhead, Cropp (it's a Polish brand), they're all sitting in that pile.

This morning I was put in a predicament. Every single pair of jeans that are not ripped (which happens to be two pairs) are so in need of a washing machine visit that I can barely touch them. One pair I wore for multiple days while preparing for a concert I was in charge of - after hours of loading in equipment, loading out equipment, jumping up and down, and general running all over the place, they reek. The other pair I wore camping, and we all know what happens to camping clothes. Therefore, this past week I've been getting extremely creative with what I've been wearing. Dress pants - check, now they have grass stains all over because apparently when I'm on photo shoots I pay no attention to what I'm kneeling and laying in. Random cargo pants that I never *ever* wear other than when I'm dressing up as a marshmallow to play in the snow - check, now they have stains from going stargazing in a field where cows live. Therefore, this morning when I stepped out of the shower, I realized I literally have no pants to wear at all.

None.

I like to think of myself as a rather ingenious individual who is creative enough to work through challenges and emerge triumphant. As I stood there surveying the piles of clothes strewn around my room, I mentally put on my ingenious hat and got to work. I first double checked that all my acceptable pants were indeed smelly and gross. They were. So, I moved to the permanent dirty-clothes pile. I looked over all of my favorite jeans, sighed, and asked myself "Why not? It's not like anyone ever looks intentionally at that area anyway." I became brave. Very quickly that braveness turned into apprehension and I spotted my double sided tape. Perfect.

I grabbed my most favorite pair and spent several minutes taping shut the holes with double sided tape. Soon, they were good as new and I felt triumphant. I mentally took my ingenious hat off and slipped on the jeans. Just then I realized...oh gosh, I used double sided tape. But, it was too late. My jeans were stuck to my legs. I was already close to missing breakfast, so I figured I'd deal with that later, and walked to the cafeteria thinking I really like these jeans!

All went well, I got through breakfast and my first meeting of the day without anyone being suspicious or yelling out "Matthias! Did you know you have holes in your jeans?!" I felt rather happy with myself, after all, I did solve my problem without having to resort to the pants I used to paint in this summer. All went well, until I had to use the restroom.

I stood in the stall, unbuttoned, unzipped, and started to pull down when all of a sudden something caught. Oh no, the double sided tape! I realized quickly, I'm stuck! I can't get out of my pants! I really need to use the toilet. I tried again, still stuck. What had I done? The tape had fused to my skin and wasn't giving up without a painful fight.

Eventually, after removing several patches of hair, I was able to accomplish my goal. Then, absentmindedly, I pulled the pants back up. As I write this, I'm realizing I'm stuck again, and probably will try to hold it until absolutely necessary.

I think it's time to do the laundry...
-Matthias

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Excuse-and-Run

In Alaska it is considered an offense to push a live moose out of a moving airplane. Additionally, it is against the law to view moose from an airplane.
- Strange Alaskan Laws

There goes the one thing I've wanted to do all my life. Moose are funny when they run, think of what they'd look like flying!

In the spirit of my upcoming trip to Alaska, which due to unforeseen expensive circumstances just drew a day nearer (not by time travel). I have decided to write a survival guide for broke (and even in debt) travelers. While there are many different ways one can survive on a delightful jaunt in the Alaskan wilderness, or any wilderness for that matter, there is one key method that consistently works. I call it Excuse-and-Run.

In order to gain a better understanding of how to use this method, I will give you two examples that I fully expect to encounter next week while treating my sunburn in Alaska. Mainly, you just need to remember two things to prevent yourself from spending money while on vacation: blurt out the first excuse that pops into your head as to why you cannot participate, and then run before people can realize your cunning charm.

Situation #1: Whale Watching
You and your friends are sitting on a nice Alaskan couch discussing iceburgs and the like when someone mentions, "there are these really neat whale watching excursions that we can take if anyone would be interested. They're only $50 for 2 hours!" Suddenly, you freeze. Whale watching sounds so exciting, but alas you do not have $50. Anywhere. How do you gracefully get out of this exciting opportunity that could so easily broaden your horizons? Easy. Excuse-and-Run. As the rest of your friends are wondering how the size of whales compare to Russia, blurt out, "I'm terrified of whale watching. The last time I went whale watching, I was in Oregon. I got very seasick and while I was leaning over the edge of the boat sticking my finger down my throat trying to throw up just to ease the sickness, a whale emerged from the water and tipped the boat over so that we almost drowned. The coast guard had to rescue us and it was quite a debacle. It even made the local news." Then, before anyone can think about the legitimacy of your story, declare "Oops, I need to take my moose allergy pills!" and run off.

Situation #2: Eating Local Cuisine
Several days later, you are walking down Alaskan streets with your friends listening to them talk about a large whale that they got to pet. Someone's tummy rumbles (maybe it was yours, but you're not going to say anything) and another person mentions "You know, there's this really good Alaskan restaurant up here that serves delicious Alaskan food that costs money." Eating food sounds delicious, but you do not have money. Anywhere. How do you gracefully get out of this opportunity to satisfy your groaning stomach while staying alive? Easy. Excuse-and-Run. As the rest of your friends are beginning to skip down the road anticipating delicious morsels of Alaskan food that costs money, you suddenly stop and exclaim, "Stop! Wait! Guys, I'm terrified of Alaskan restaurants. The last time I went to an Alaskan restaurant, I was sitting by a window enjoying my moose burger. Suddenly, a real live cannibal moose burst through the window, took my burger in its mouth, and funnily ran away! If that's not bad enough, the glass from the window breaking got into my mother's water glass and she suffocated and died." Then, before anyone can process what you just said, declare "Oooh, I think I saw some fresh wintergreen leaves over in that forest by the ocean. Let me go see!" and run off.

By now, I think you get the picture. Excuse-and-Run is a very effective method of getting through a vacation after accidentally putting too much of your summer savings into investments that are more secure than under mattresses.

Bon Voyage!
-Matthias

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