Just Breathe

You never know how a day of photography is going to turn out. Some projects can be one challenge after another, while others proceed without a hitch. One thing you never expect is a day of photography that ends with someone almost dying.

I was recently assigned by Major League Baseball to photograph former player Eric Davis at his home near Los Angeles. Davis is a two-time National League All-Star, a three-time Gold Glove Award winner, and is now an instructor and scout with the Cincinnati Reds organization.

The assignment was a very straightforward portrait that needed to be stylistically consistent with other portraits that were being made by photographers around the country. The editor was looking for an image that was heroic, shot from a low angle, and with the sky as the only background. The pictures would all appear in the program for the All-Star Game being held in Cincinnati this summer.

The biggest challenge for the portrait was finding a clean, unobstructed piece of sky in a busy metropolis. In situations like these, the best bet is usually to shoot from a rooftop because you’ll be above most of the obstructions. Still, in order to position Davis above the camera, he would need to stand somewhat precariously near the edge of the building. He is still in amazing shape and he was once a world-class athlete, so it seemed like any risk of putting him near that edge would be minimal.

Working with a fixed lens forces you to move your feet to compose the shot rather than simply twisting the zoom ring. This often results in a much more deliberate composition.

I chose to light the portrait simply using a 5’ Chimera OctaPlus softbox positioned to mostly light Davis from the waist up combined with a small Chimera Strip Bank for a bit of fill on his shadow side. I also decided on a fixed Nikkor 35mm f/1.4G lens on the Nikon D810 camera rather than the more versatile Nikkor 24-70mm f/2.8G. Working with a fixed lens forces you to move your feet to compose the shot rather than simply twisting the zoom ring. This often results in a much more deliberate composition.

Eric chose a fantastic wardrobe for the day and had a great attitude about the whole thing. Once we were ready to shoot, he used my hard cases as makeshift steps to carefully climb onto the platform so that I could position the camera below him. The wind was blowing, so Earl, the assistant, needed to have a firm grip on the light stand holding the Octa to keep it from flying away.

By sunset, we had all the shots we needed. So, I thanked Eric for his time and Earl and I began packing all the lighting and Nikon gear. Since it was now dinner time, the two of us decided to stop at a little Italian kitchen not far away for a bite to eat and some conversation about the day.

After downing a few iced teas to rehydrate, the food arrived and we began to eat. About halfway through the meal, Earl suddenly made the kind of face you see when someone bites their tongue. I asked him if he was okay and he shook his head that he wasn’t. A moment passed. I asked him what was wrong. Wide-eyed, but calm, he pointed to his throat. “Can you breathe?” I asked. Unable to speak, he simply shook his head from side to side and motioned that he needed help. A part of the meal that had looked so delicious just moments before was suddenly an impediment to life-giving air.

I quickly got behind him in order to attempt to dislodge the food using a technique I hadn’t practiced for many years. After I delivered a firm thrust to his abdomen, I looked at Earl to see if he could breathe. He again shook his head from side to side. I positioned my hands around him for a second time and forced the trapped air upward. This time, the food was dislodged and Earl began to breathe again. After a few moments of relieved silence, we returned to our conversation as though nothing had occurred.

Practicing relentlessly is how something becomes second nature. It’s why a problem or a challenge is met not with overwhelm, but with the attitude of, “Yeah, I’ve seen this before and I know how to solve it.”

It was only later that I realized how reactive the technique had been. While training as a Rescue Diver and Divemaster, my scuba instructor had insisted that I practice the Heimlich maneuver over and over again—in every possible position and on nearly every sized victim. That night, because of his relentless insistence on practice, my hands instinctively fell into the proper grip and position before I delivered a sudden upward thrust to his abdomen.

Practicing relentlessly is how something becomes second nature. It’s why a problem or a challenge is met not with overwhelm, but with the attitude of, “Yeah, I’ve seen this before and I know how to solve it.”

Whether it’s lighting a portrait, following focus on a moving subject, working with a Speedlight, calculating lighting ratios, or performing the Heimlich maneuver, doing something over and over ultimately makes it hard-wired inside of you.

Behind a camera or across from a friend, years of practice and refinement gets catalogued and filed away until the moment it’s needed most. Practicing something repeatedly has saved me on countless shoots. A few weeks back, repeated practice is what saved Earl.