Barry Schneier Photography

THE VIEW FROM THE PIT - STATE RADIO

The first time I shot digital at a rock show ( I’d been out of the loop for a while), I sought out advice. One recommendation was for certain size and speed of storage cards so I could save upwards of 500 shots per card. 500 SHOTS? Were you crazy? Who would need that number? In my day (days of film), I would shoot about three rolls per act, per night, and hope in the 100 or so shots per act I might have three of four that were good. That’s what it was about. You, as the photographer, needed to drive your selection of shots. There were limits and those factors were forced you to make decisions, artistic decisions, that made you to take better shots. That was part of the craft.

In the pit at shows today i see these young guns, with better cameras than mine. They shoot, and shoot and shoot. i step back and watch. I do the math. Three songs, one angle, 500 shots, they’re bound to get something. But i can’t help but notice that, the one over there, doesn’t she recognize that her angle is always going to get the microphone in the face of the singer? And that guy over there, is he ever going to try another point of view? Hmm..maybe if you cast a wide, wide net..you will catch something. Is this the new world of concert photography? Tell me it isn’t. Because I couldn’t do it. I don’t the have the top end camera, I just have my eye. So, I decide to look for something interesting.

The band’s manager writes me back after I posted my work for him. “Thank You”, he says. He then continues, and confides, that he is amazed that when photographers send him work from shows it’s typically 90  frames of the same shot. He thanked me for taking another point of view and informed me he’d like to use my work.

It wasn’t really that I offered another point of view, I offered what I though was a good photograph. That’s why you have the camera with you…right?

Happy Birthday Patti Smith!

I’m  not sure when it was that I first began to fall in love with Patti Smith. Maybe it was when I heard  that her live shows were such driving hard rock and roll and she would spit on the stage whenever it felt right. Not out of spite, just out of “spit”. Or that her music came out of poetry, which came out of living in the East Village., which came out of being an artist. She was totally cool in my mind. A bohemian artist who found rock and roll as her medium of the time.

I finally got to see her live in 1975 when she played The Boarding House in San Francisco. She was only a year into performing on the road to support her first release. It wasn’t until I learned later that this was one of earlier shows in her career.

Today Patti continues to record, continues to perform, write, recite, film, photo document her life, everything. She began as an artist looking for her medium and today still experiments with new ways to express herself. She. to me., is what living your life as an artist is about. I cannot recommend enough her book. “Just Kids”, which is by far the best book I have read that describes the process of becoming an artist. I recommend it not just because it’s a good read, but because it’s about living a life that is driven by a passion inside of you. A passion to celebrate, to create, to explore, to live out loud what drives you and bring it to the rest of us. The life of an artist, lived as an artist, as we all wish, we could live our own. And we can. 

Her life is a gift to us and today I say thank you Patti Smith

The Politics of Voice

Musicians and all artists alike have always lent their voice to the political scene. While many of us recall the “protest songs” of the 1960’s, the legacy of musicians speaking out goes far back. In the 1940’s Woody Guthrie, in response to Irving Berlin’s “God Bless America”, composed “This Land is Your Land”. Many believed this to be a song of patriotism. It was actually a call to protest that in a country meant to provide equality to all, many Americans were living in poverty and hunger. As Woody traveled across the country he was struck by this and could not remain silent.

What piece of music isn’t a statement, what work of art isn’t an expression? We all carry in us a voice that wants to be heard. The arts provide this path to articulate these thoughts. Find the story behind any painting, sculpture, photo or writing and you will find a story of a voice looking to for expression.

Bruce Springsteen had said he wouldn’t perform during the 2012 presidential campaign. He has changed his mind. He will lend his voice. He will be heard.

“Bruce Springsteen’s values echo what the President and Vice President (Biden) stand for: hard work, fairness, integrity” said Jim Messina, Obama for America’s campaign manager.

What values, beliefs do you hold that echo with those of others? You’ve heard the voice of others. Now listen to your own.

Patti Smith, The Boarding House, San Francisco 1975

I always thought the road to becoming an artist is a road of discovery. You forge ahead, never really knowing what’s next, but that’s not important. Your passion drives you, reason takes a back seat. I was once told that the path to becoming an artist can be a lonely one.

Patti Smith never set out to be a rock and roll singer. She tried art school, loved making mixed media collages and then decided on poetry. She stayed in New York, slept on friends couches and sometimes even doorsteps. Occasionally the thought of a return to the safety of her family’s home in New Jersey entered her mind but it never took hold. She remained an artist, even at the expense of sometime finding herself alone in the largest metropolis in America.

Her book “Just Kids” is the best testimonial I’ve read on what it is to become an artist. Here’s how Amazon describes it

“It was the summer Coltrane died, the summer of love and riots, and the summer when a chance encounter in Brooklyn led two young people on a path of art, devotion, and initiation.

Patti Smith would evolve as a poet and performer, and Robert Mapplethorpe would direct his highly provocative style toward photography. Bound in innocence and enthusiasm, they traversed the city from Coney Island to Forty-second Street, and eventually to the celebrated round table of Max’s Kansas City, where the Andy Warhol contingent held court. In 1969, the pair set up camp at the Hotel Chelsea and soon entered a community of the famous and infamous—the influential artists of the day and the colorful fringe. It was a time of heightened awareness, when the worlds of poetry, rock and roll, art, and sexual politics were colliding and exploding. In this milieu, two kids made a pact to take care of each other. Scrappy, romantic, committed to create, and fueled by their mutual dreams and drives, they would prod and provide for one another during the hungry years.

Just Kids begins as a love story and ends as an elegy. It serves as a salute to New York City during the late sixties and seventies and to its rich and poor, its hustlers and hellions. A true fable, it is a portrait of two young artists’ ascent, a prelude to fame.”

Patti Smith today is 65. She’s as committed and enthusiastic as ever. Her innocence has grown into wisdom. She has a way with words and still commands an audience. Thankfully, she’s chosen to stay on her road and we are all better people for it. She’s the same artist, seeking, exploring , never tiring. The desire never goes away. There is no end in site, the road is the way. The way is the spirit of the artist in her. Listen to her stories, drink in her words, and you may just hear some of your own life in hers.

Happy Birthday to the original “Space Cowboy”, Steve Miller.

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“Patti Smith, The Boarding House, San Francisco 1975”

Bonnie Raitt. Slipstream

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BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN - MY DEPRESSION

I’ve had my faith shaken

But never hopeless

This is my confession

I need your heart

In this depression

There’s been a lot of words written about Bruce Springsteen. But perhaps the best piece to date is this week’s New Yorker profile by David Remnick. The piece profiles Bruce from his earliest days to the current Wrecking Ball tour. More is revealed in these seventeen pages then any bio to date. We learn about Bruce’s struggles as a teen, his struggles with the loss of Clarence, and yes, with his depression. For some reason the latter is what mainstream media is picking up on. So what? Who hasn’t dealt with depression themselves or known someone who has. I have on both accounts. But the real message in this piece, and in Bruce’s history, is that he is a work in progress, always determined to do his best. His best for his craft, his best for the band and his best for the audience. When he says he feels an obligation every night to deliver to each and every member of his audience a performance that will be invigorating, stimulating, resuscitating and incarnating, he means it. And he wants to make sure you get every dollar’s worth you paid for. Seriously.

When I first encountered Bruce in 1974 I discovered a young man hard at work. At what, I wasn’t sure. But I knew it was mastery in the making. Somewhat diminutive in size he pranced the stage and worked the room like a sorcerer conjuring up a spell. And he did. He laid down a spell on us, a spell that made us feel good. It was a Rock and Roll healing in all it’s glory.

This shot is from a series I did when he came over to the piano and did his solo version of “For You”. Another shot from this series has reached semi-iconic status having appeared in numerous exhibitions, galleries and publications. But a colector from New Jersey saw this shot in my collection and said “that’s the one”. Bruce, his eyes closed, lost in the moment, perhaps for a second feeling the healing himself.

In the New Yorker article Bruce says of the band and his role, “We’re repairmen - repairmen with a toolbox. If I repair a little of myself, I’ll repair a little of you. That’s the job”

That’s the job.

“Jackson Browne, sound check. Boston 1974”

“Jackson Browne, Boston 1974”