Don’t ever get comfortable. That’s my advice.

Don’t ever get comfortable. That’s my advice.

Still early spring 2015 and I got another “Mike the Photographer” parking pass for my second photo shoot. I was brimming with confidence having just finished my first pro photography gig.

Images turned out better than I thought they would, though I had to do a lot of work in editing. I was pumped!

And that lasted for a good minute or so. Reality hit me right as I got inside the house. Empty except for a few random pieces of furniture. Wow, wasn’t expecting this. So different from my previous house. Empty. Cold, lifeless and empty.

How do you photograph an empty house? Wait, I…. Nothing in my background had ever primed me for this. Not only empty, but the lighting sucked. It was a dark place inside. Not nighttime, but not terribly far off.

Or maybe it was just my eyes needing to adjust. Super bright windows but with dark paint and flooring that just drank up the light. This isn’t what I signed up for.

“Oh, I got this”, I told the agent, grinning like a court jester (that’s me putting on a show). But inside? What are the chances of a meteor crashing into this place right now? Please? Can I just go home? Pretty please, with sugar on top!

After a brief pause and no saving meteor, I got to work. This is when I started to get the “vibe” of the house. Hadn’t really felt that before, but here it is now. Negative, empty energy.

My second gig was supposed to be a resounding success, yet here I am on the verge of implosion. So much for “Mike the Photographer”. Over. Done. End of story. No refunds or exchanges.

I fired up the camera and photographed all over the house. Though it was a nice, large home it showed its wear (years of kids and pets will do that). A scattering of scars on the walls and floors. Random stains on the carpets. Dings, dents, scuffs. Normal wear and tear stuff. But with no furniture, there’s nothing to hide or distract from these defects.

So I have to show it. No choice. That and a floor plan that just has an awful flow to it.

Over the years, I’ve experienced these kinds of dysfunctional floor plans. Flows that just don’t work. They aren’t conducive to really any kind of peaceful living. Something that subconsciously you just deal with rather than enjoy.

Now, I’m not an architect, but I know when the flow isn’t right. And this place was wrong.

So time passes and I’m done with interiors and rear exteriors. Off to the front. Not only that, I’m under 3 hours! Big improvement. Yay me!!

My victory lap was shockingly interrupted by a message on my camera’s screen. Something about the image database not being found. What!!!?? All that I shot, all those frames, can’t be found? I’ve never seen this before and now I’m fucking freaking! Freaking on the inside of course. Outside everything was green. I’d been in ‘the shit’ before.

Camera gave me the option of rebuilding the database (whatever that meant) by hitting the OK button. What do I do? Is that a re-format? Have I lost everything and now have to re-shoot that entire house? Will OK fix it? I really didn’t know. And I had no backup as this camera only held one card.

That’s it, I’m going back to “Audio Engineer Mike”. Done, finished, kaput!

What did I do? I prayed and then hit OK. The camera began to work its’ magic.

My images were back!!! Wonderful! Bullet dodged for the moment. I can finish my gig and get out of here. No embarrassment in front of the agent as I don’t have to explain a technical glitch which I’m not familiar with. No need to go back inside this place as the vibe was working me in a bad way.

Returned to my beat laboratory to edit and submit the images.

I was seriously disappointed. I hated the images and hated the job I did. It was kind of depressing. Feeling down, I turned to the one, best place I knew for answers: I called my Dad.

Now for those who don’t know, my father was an exceptional photographer. Knew more about photography and the processes involved than anyone I’d ever met. This wasn’t my first time seeking his photographic counsel though. He had helped me improve my images for a long time.

Though he never shot real estate and architecture (as a professional), he knew where to point me. His assessment of my work was simple.

“The house is ugly.” That’s what he told me. Talk about reassuring. I mean I must have sounded really desperate to him. This was a father’s way of helping his son to feel a little better.

There was more to it. Even though he was technically right, the house was in fact ugly, I told him that in order for me to succeed at this I was going to have to photograph a lot more homes just as ugly or worse (I didn’t know how right I was, talk about foreshadowing).

The goal was for me to be able to photograph the ugliest, nastiest, most disgusting homes and create images that sell them.

Dad and I conversed about this for a long time and yes I did feel a little better. But the goal nevertheless was for me to go into any home no matter how bad the conditions and make it work. Simple as that.

Now the only way to accomplish this was to go out and do it. Repeatedly. Ugly? Nasty? Bugs? Dead animals? No electricity? Pissed off tenants? Irrelevant. Make it work. Rinse. Repeat.