I didn't take enough photos
And it's my best friend's fault
A few years ago, I picked up analog photography as a hobby obsession. It’s a deep, cavernous rabbit hole that led me to not only learn the ins and outs of shooting on film, but I’m now the proud owner of a whole new appreciation for the art of photography. It’s incredibly fulfilling - the clack of the shutter followed by the smooth rattle of the film advance lever is the photography equivalent to the Technics 1200’s start/stop button click. There’s just nothing like it, and it’s a character trait that has carried through to modern turntables. Take a listen:
That shutter click is a sound your iPhone wishes it could make. There’s purpose and intention behind each snap. It’s an entirely different experience than using your phone to take pictures. The instant you expose film to light, you’re igniting a rush of chemical reactions. Photons hit crystals, electrons are bumped around, atoms are created - all in a fraction of a second.
Shooting on film is personal. I love the uncertainty and variables that go into the process, it makes every image completely unique and more personal. So why didn’t I take more photos as I was circling the globe for 20 years?
My best friend, Jerome Gacula, was a photographer. Always had a camera on him. If he wasn’t editing photos, he was planning a shoot. And if he wasn’t at a shoot, he was taking photos of us - our group of friends that included a graffiti artist, actor, graphic designer, and plenty of DJs. I’m glad the rest of us didn’t gravitate towards photography; otherwise all we’d have is photos of each other fondling cameras.
It worked out great for me, I had a photographer for all my mixtapes!
From the Radio Fryer shoot. 2003.
He captured everything. House parties, performances, backstage, and even the endless hours we’d all spend at North Beach cafe’s sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes (this was the early 2000’s). I got so used to him being there to take photos that it never crossed my mind to do it when he wasn’t.
“Small, Medium, Large”, 2003.
This is one of my favorite photos. It was taken backstage at the Linkin Park/Limp Bizkit/Metallica Summer Sanitarium tour. We were standing by the monitor booth and Jerome said “Let’s take a picture. Small, medium, large.”
He would let out an almost involuntary “YES!” after each snap; even when he shot on film and there was no way to confirm how good or bad the image was. He really taught me that the vibe is just as more important than the gear. He brought out the best in people in every situation. Being a big boisterous guy covered in samurai tattoos certainly helped people gravitate towards his lens. You wanted to be photographed by him.
From the archives, 2006.
We took this photo when he was super into Helmut Newton. It was originally to be used for publicity, but since it looks more like an album cover for a synth pop duo, I kept it to myself.
New Orleans. Model: Iarionne Reine.
I don’t know a whole lot about this photo, but it’s my favorite of his studio work. Sadly, I don’t have a hi res copy to make a print. But even at a lower bitrate, it’s absolutely striking. Knowing him, there are a crapload of polaroids from this shoot tucked away somewhere.
Lateef the Truthspeaker at DNA Lounge in San Francisco. Circa 2005.
I remember that night - Blackalicious, Latyrx, and me, with all kinds of special guests. While the other photographers were snapping away with DSLR’s and telephoto lenses, Jerome rolled up with a Polaroid camera. To give you an idea of how much confidence you have to have to do that, your subject must be between 2 and 5 feet away to be in focus and illuminated by the flash. He just (rightfully) assumed he’d be on stage with the band.
When Jerome passed away in 2018, my world was completely dismantled. For a good year, my brain was in a fog that still hasn’t quite dissipated. Who knows if it ever will. I still pick up the phone to call him before realizing...well, you know.
There’s a clip floating around of Billy Bob Thornton talking about losing his brother, and he could not be more on point:
There’s a melancholy in me that never goes away. I’m 50% happy and 50% sad at any given moment.
Fuck, that line hit hard. But Billy Bob’s right, I don’t want that feeling to go away. It’s a part of how you honor your loved one.
Sadly, I don’t have access to the vast majority of his photos, as his social media and cloud storage accounts have been deleted. I have stacks and stacks of prints and polaroids; I’ll take that over a thousand posts on Instagram any day. His social media posts were for the public…these photos are for me.
Do I sometimes wish I had photographed all the incredible places I’ve been, and the awesome people I’ve met? Sure. But what Jerome taught me is that the point of all this is to connect with others, camera or no camera. It’s a gift that he was constantly documenting our life and times - it freed the rest of us up to be present.
I’ll never be as prolific as he was, and that’s fine. I’m just honoring him every time I pick up a camera, click the shutter, and let out an approving “yes”.
I know it must be hard sometimes, but thank you for keeping his memory alive. He was a kind soul, had a big personality and was full of life. I followed you on Instagram to see more of your work. Anyone that was friends with him has to have a great eye…
Hello, I’m Iarionne Reine, the model on the car. I did several shoots with Jerome. He was a sweetheart and that shoot was hilarious but the images were cool.