The Invisible (Camera)Man...

It's inevitable that as a news cameraman, you will find yourself standing on the steps to a local courthouse. There's no getting away from the fact that most news stories will either start as a court story, or end up as one. Accepting that fact, I again found myself standing in the pouring rain, waiting for the defendant, the aggrieved, and the law.






Now as any person of the lens lugging persuasion will tell you, if you can get the shots required without a fuss, all the better. Make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, avoid the in yer face confrontation and things should go just dandy. However, court stories can throw curveballs at you that are not expected, such as defendants who would very much like to shove your camera where the sun don't shine. Families who are grieving for lost loved ones and see me as a big intrusion into their private lives, and even mean looking drug dealers who come over to you and ask if they looked good as you filmed them. Yep, strange things happen on court steps. I've been shouted at and threatened by thugs, businessmen, conmen and even grannies, I've stood for hours at a time waiting for the perp to leave the building and find that he left hours ago through the back door. All manner of things have been tried to avoid the public glare of the lens, many to no avail, some to spectacular success.

So it was a relief this morning to turn up at court at 9am sharp, and the defendant to walk up 30 seconds later and ask you if you would like a walking in shot. Music to my ears I tell ya. No shouts, no argy bargy, no thuggery. It doesn't happen this way very often, but when it does, it makes your day knowing that you won't have to chase after him, risk a thumping or fall over your own size 11's in the rush for a 3 or 4 second wobble shot. Today was a good day, all things considered. Except for the bloody rain...


Paul Martin.
Media Attention Ltd.
http://www.media-attention.co.uk

A fit of the jiggles..

An American friend of mine, Lenslinger recently wrote about filming ladies of a certain age... Exercising. And I agree, filming women trying to improve their image whilst jiggling about to 70's and 80's pseudo rock, dressed in loose fitting, sweaty jumpsuits makes a cameraman nervous. Trying to film a four shot sequence of a 40 something housewife with a 4lb weight in both hands, marching on the spot to The Eye Of The Tiger makes for a volatile mix. She had the eye of the tiger alright, and I was the doe eyed newborn deer about to have it's jugular lacerated if I did not remove my lens from beneath her ample, dare I say it, voluptuous frontage.

Filming from behind... Advisable.

This was a delicate situation, that needed a delicate response. Should I move in to film as they slowly gyrated their hips whilst sat on a giant rubber ball, or should I just zoom in and capture the pelvic floor tightening exercise from afar..? I think you know which one I chose.

There was a chink of light in this darkness of male indecision. I saw it out of the corner of my squinty left eye.. One of the ladies smiled at me. It could however have been a painful wince as her sports bra pinged open, or a response to a muscle spasm from the pelvic area, following over tightening, but I took it as an invitation to sidle over, get up close, and film the jiggles.

You see, in this game, you take a chance on what you perceive to be an open invitation. I could have missed that small but telling smile. But having seen it, out of all the other looks that said "Please take that lens away, or I will perform an impromptu colonoscopy upon you" I took the chance and came away with the sequence required. And thank the Lord Almighty for that, as next up was the boxercise routine. And I'm sure one of those ladies was looking at me as her sparring partner...

Paul Martin
www.media-attention.co.uk

Canadian With A Camera.

I've written about other photographers and Cameramen before... So i'll do it again. Especially when i come across a website that is both rich in content for those of us in this industry, and entertaining in the fact that the cameraman who writes it was in the Canadian Navy. Glen Canning Is a VJ from Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, who writes, blogs and takes pictures from his part of the cameraman and broadcasting world. I would imagine that world to be mainly frozen, but he manages to thaw my rock hard brain with intelligent articles, good pictures and information from the VJ world.

Glen has actually replaced his right eye with a lens...

Now i don't really do the VJ thing... Y'know, filming, writing, editing, journalism, producing and mopping the floor on your way out, but if you are heading down this route into the media industry, there can be no better place to start your journey than reading through this website, and hoovering up all the information that is freely given by Glen, who i assume only carries cameras this small and light to avoid falling through ice sheets in the Canadian wilderness.

Being formally of Her Majesties British Army, i shall try to heft my large, heavy and unwieldy camera until my back snaps, stoic in the knowledge that a former member of Her Majesties Royal Canadian Navy is running around the colonies with a camera so small and light, he could outrun a Polar Bear in a hundred yard dash... and write and edit a story on the way....

You can visit Glens website here: http://www.videojournalist.ca/

Paul Martin
http://www.media-attention.co.uk

A Cautionary Tale.....

Surfing the web today, i came across this video. I often talk about the life of a news cameraman, and how it feels to be behind the lens, looking in on someone's misfortune and being able to cope with it. This video, narrated by Ira Glass of This American Life, tells the animated tale of school kids who decided one day to make their own camera....

The point becomes clear towards the middle of the film, so do please watch it all. It may be a salutory lesson to us all.




Paul Martin

http://www.media-attention.co.uk

The Bowels Of London.

I had occasion to travel to this countries fine, noble and ancient capital the other day. Anyone who works in the TV industry tries to go for one of the three days that is the Broadcast Video Expo at Earls Court, London. Not everyone can make it, but on this day, i was able to take my wallet out on a cameraman's day trip to the big smoke. But first i had to get there.

I didn't want to drive into London. Excuse me, what i mean is, i mean i didn't want to pay the petrol, the extortionate parking charges or congestion charge, nor did i want to get stuck in the London traffic jams caused by two miles of traffic cones with one man on a tea break behind them. So, i decided to go by train. Now any freelance cameraman will tell you, we rarely travel by public transport, such is the amount of kit, lights, sound and batteries we normally lug around with us. No...  A large, petrol swigging, earth destroying, four wheel leviathan is my mode of transport in my day to day working life, so its rare that i step foot into the world of commuters, day trippers, pick pockets, drunks and other assorted scary people.

Trains... Multi coloured.

Public transport has indeed come a long way, but i still don't like to use trains. Or planes for that matter. Long steel tubes of sweaty people with no control over where they go, or at what speed. And no control of who sits next to you. It could be that a kindly old Army Colonel with a handlebar moustache sits next to you, with a pleasing waft of pipe smoke lingering in his tweed jacket. Or it could be the student, all gangly legs, boyband hairdo and pus. Or, as is likely in my case, the stoned gangsta wannabe with a blade in his pocket and his eye on my valuables. So i avoid it if i can.

The London underground therefore, makes my heart pound and causes beads of sweat on my forehead to rise. If anything should happen to this intrepid cameraman, there would be nowhere to go and everyone in your carriage would ignore you. It was packed with the what seemed like the entire human race. Every conceivable type of person wanted to stand next to me and make me smell their armpit, every language could be overheard, including a rather irate woman who swore someone tried to steal her mangoes. Bloody cheek, i never touched her....

However, my nosey journalistic instincts surfaced and i began to take in the seething mass of humanity that surrounded me, reminding me that us humans have always sought out the big crowds, the city life and the interaction between others. Not me though...

It wasn't the boots that gave it away...

You see, i was nearing my destination within the great metropolis, when out of nowhere she came. I say she because she was dressed as a woman, but no woman that i have ever met. ( Except that time in Hong Kong... but i digress. ) Head to toe in shiny black leather, long blonde hair and kinky boots. She stood directly in front of me although there was plenty of room by this stage as many passengers had left at Westminster. She stared directly at me... and winked.  I looked left and right to see who she was winking at. I was alone.

The tannoy announced: next stop... Earls Court.

I had about thirty seconds before i could run, sorry... walk at speed to my final destination, so i smiled weakly and stammered something totally British like... " Hello.. Lovely day isn't it?"

She arched her eyebrow, and laughed in a deep masculine throaty way and said... " You're not from London are you?" At which point i came over all Hugh Grant and stammered that i was not. Too bloody right i wasn't. I'm a local news cameraman on a day trip to the capital city. I forced myself to suffer the cloying crowds, the smell and the niggling feeling that i was so very insignificant in the great scheme of things. It was then i realised just how detached i had become from everyday life. I normally eavesdrop and turn my lens on other unfortunates who succumbed to the advances of a mad, leather clad transvestite. Normally, some politician or other branch of the British nobility.

I can see the headlines now... "Local news lensman caught in Transvestite kerfuffle..." But to have it... Ahem... thrust in your face without the protection of seeing it through a lens, with a heavy density filter, shook me up a little.

I filtered what had happened via a large frothy latte when i arrived at the Expo. And you know what?... i'm a middle aged, unshaven news cameraman with a lifestyle to match, and she walked up to and winked at me... Yep.. Me.

I winked at myself in the reflection of a nearby window. Yep my man, you've still got it.....

Paul Martin
http://www.media-attention.co.uk