BLACK & WHITE
My obsession with photography started as early as my obsession with music. I had always been a curious kid, and whenever I visited friend’s homes, I asked to look at their family photo albums. I loved pictures and seeing what other people’s lives looked like. Whenever I visited my Titi Jennie, there was always music playing and at some point during the day I would ask her to bring out the box of family photos. I just wanted to lose myself in them.
In the early seventies, when you went to the neighborhood candy store or pharmacy, there were narrow yellow Kodak 110 instamatic cameras on sale by the cash register. After you took a full round of photos on one of them, you brought it back to that same store and gave them the camera to get the film developed. It wasn’t at all like today, when photos and videos are instantaneously available the moment you shoot them on an iPhone or other digital devices.
After they were developed, it wasn’t unusual for my simple snapshots to appear grainy and blurry. Those inexpensive Kodak Instamatics often took far from perfect images. But, in the end, that didn’t matter to me, because it was more about capturing the moment.
One day, Peter Crowley asked me if I wanted to go to Canada with him and the band, Wayne County and the Backstreet Boys. They were heading to the New Yorker Theater in Toronto, to do a Halloween concert. Peter was their manager and he wanted me to be their photographer. I was thrilled, and quickly said yes. For some reason, my mom let me go and I have no idea why. I was only sixteen.
Wayne County was one of the first transgender singers in rock ’n’ roll history. At that time, in 1976, she hadn’t taken on the name Jayne yet. She was the DJ at Max’s before Paul Zone took over, and she introduced everyone to punk rock coming out of England and the U.S.—she knew what was happening before any of the rest of us did. Wayne’s band also became the house band at Max’s.
We were gone for only about four days and it was a real test for myself as I had never professionally photographed anything before. But I did it, and the most amazing thing was that those photos ended up being published on the cover of Rock Scene Magazine. It was my first publication, my first real professional gig, and it was really exciting. When we got back to New York, Peter said to me, “We’re recording an EP and we’d like you to shoot the cover.”
What was happening? This was way too fast. But apparently, they were on a tight schedule and Peter needed the photo done immediately. I didn’t have a second to swallow my fear or be confused at all.
“Can you shoot it right now?” he asked.
My eyes widened. I looked down at the Tri-X film I had in my camera. It had thirty-six exposures and I was at thirty-five. I gulped, nodded, and said my prayers.
I grabbed Wayne.
“Let’s hit the toilet.”
The toilet was actually a small narrow room that we could barely fit in. Wayne grabbed his guitar, slipped it between his legs, and stuck out his tongue. I took the shot and crossed my fingers.
When I got the photos back from the developers, I held my breath as I quickly looked over the contact sheet. When I found that very last frame, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The photography gods had been with me that day. It was the last frame in the roll and the image was pure magic.
I took it to Peter and Wayne. They loved it and ended up using it for his first EP, Blatantly Offenzive. Between that and the photographs in Rock Scene Magazine, I felt more connected to the musicians I loved and the scene that I cherished. I also felt more like a professional photographer. I was sixteen and a path had opened up—though I wasn’t sure where it would lead—but there it was, thanks to Peter.