I was feeling sympathetic for Brock last weekend as he stepped from his yellow car, and pulled a rather large and fuzzy winter hat over his head. He had been in Kamloops for nearly three days specifically to shoot some photos and yet his memory card was empty. Miscommunication and broken cell phones lead us to this unfortunate situation. And conditions were not prime. Brock needed to hit the highway within an hour. It was cold, windy and starting to rain. I was tired and lacking motivation. To round off our list the sky had just clouded over thick and gray. Having already been out for a cold morning ride, hot chocolate and a warm blanket seemed a lot more inviting than a photo shoot. But Brock had his back pack loaded and an eager smile on his face. Game on.
Brock is a smooth and calculated operator. Out with all the elements firing against him he shows no fear and draws his camera with confidence. From the moment he straps the camera over his head he is not seen on two feet. Always laying in the dirt, crouched in an awkward stance, tunneling his way through shrubbery. Creativity is his goal. He wants you to see things the way he imagines them and conventional angles wont do the trick. His thoughts are too far outside the box, you probably won’t get a chance to understand them. Most times I have shot with Brock he uses a fish eye lens to drastically curve his captured moments. It seems to do just the trick for zoning in and exploiting the technical pinpoint of a complicated image. I learned one thing from Brock last weekend. Once the camera lens covers his eye he becomes a killer.
Laying in a patch of withered fall grass the hunter accepts his task. He is cold, tired and a long way from home. But his hunger is fierce and he refuses to return home empty handed. It is late October and the days have been dragging on. The Hunter’s Moon begins to rise full and bright from behind a distant mountain. He knows now that time is running out. Stationed in the side of a small bank he has fashioned his own foot and knee holes to ensure he sits lower than the grass. Out of sight. The hunter has killed here before and he is certain he will kill here again.
Restlessly, he continues using his feet to excavate the bank just a bit deeper. Checking his shot once more he exhales a tormented sigh. Nothing. His breath creates a small fog, adding to his worry of the cold. A few more minutes drag by and he becomes agitated. Fear of the dark will prevent him from staying much longer. Movement catches the corner of his eye. Standing tall atop a nearby hill he sees what he wants. If his calculations are true the prey should pass over top of the hunters bank any moment. It will be an easy strike. Frantically regaining composure the hunter focuses in on the prey and prepares himself. His breath now slow and his stare uninterrupted. He blinks in slow motion. As eye lid touches eye lid he hears the sound that will set him free. A harsh rolling sound against the path he sits beside, getting louder quickly as the prey approaches. He checks the image finder once more. Perfect. The prey springs out the top of the hunters mound. Two wheels flying over top of him. The prey stomps his foot just inches from the hunters lens. CLICK CLICK CLICK. The sound of the camera firing off a sequence. Brock Anderson was in Kamloops and in only a half hour, he killed it.
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