Why Rock Stars?

I grew up wanting to be a rock star.

I have no idea where it came from. I was the oldest of three, so there wasn’t an older brother or sister handing me records and telling me what to listen to. My parents didn’t really listen to music around the house either. But somehow, for as long as I can remember, I had this pull toward music and the people who made it.

There was only one problem. I had no musical talent.

At some point, I had to accept that I probably wasn’t going to be standing on stage with a guitar in my hand, so I found another way into the creative world. I made my way into acting. I don’t regret that for a second. Acting led me to some incredible people and experiences, and looking back, I think it had a huge influence on my photography.

Being on set taught me how to light a scene. It taught me how to watch people. How to read a room. How to look for the moment beneath the obvious moment.

After a short stint in Hollywood, I moved back home to Texas, just outside of Austin. I was trying to figure out what came next, and photography became the outlet I was looking for.

Living there, I knew a lot of musicians. I started by photographing friends. One of my neighbors at the time was Larry Chaney, Edwin McCain’s guitar player.

One day Larry called me because Edwin wanted photos of Larry’s guitars for the cover of his album Scream & Whisper. I went over to Larry’s house, photographed the guitars, and about a month later I had my first album cover.

Easy peasy. I can do this.

Of course, I had no idea what I was stepping into. But that one shoot gave me just enough confidence to keep going. A friend knew someone, who knew someone else, and before long, I found myself standing in front of some of the biggest Texas music legends with a camera in my hand.

It was surreal.

These were people I had admired from a distance. Willie Nelson. Billy F Gibbons. Jimmie Vaughan. Lyle Lovett. Paul Simon. Artists with real history behind them. People who helped shape music, not just play it.

Billy Gibbons became one of the more unexpected full-circle moments. My mom had sung in the church choir with Billy when they were younger, and Billy’s dad even played the organ at my parents’ wedding. But my mom hadn’t seen Billy since those days.

My connection with Billy happened completely separately, through photography, not through her. Years later, I was able to reconnect them at my True South event.

That moment meant a lot to me.

It reminded me that stories have a way of circling back around. Music had always been there in the background of my life, even when I didn’t fully realize it. I may not have grown up in a house filled with records or musicians, but somehow there was still this thread running through it all. Photography is what finally helped me follow it.

Somewhere along the way, I stumbled across the music of Donavon Frankenreiter.

There was something about his music that hit me at the right time. It had surf, travel, freedom, and that feeling of chasing something just beyond where you are. Long story short, I eventually connected with Donavon at Austin City Limits Music Festival while I was on assignment for Cowboys & Indians magazine.

That connection led to something I never saw coming. I worked my way onto a surf trip with him to Indonesia.There was only one small problem. I had never shot surf photography in my life, but you know the saying: fake it till you make it.

So I went. I figured it out as I went. Before I knew it, I was in the water at Cloudbreak, getting rolled in twenty-foot waves, trying to make pictures and trying not to get destroyed in the process.

When we got back, his sponsors started using my images — Martin Guitars, Sanuk shoes, Billabong, and VonZipper sunglasses. Suddenly, this thing I had talked my way into became real.

And something else happened on that trip.

After being away from the scuba world for nearly twenty years, I found myself drawn back to the water.

I grew up diving with my dad. Underwater photography had been part of my life from an early age, but somewhere along the way I had drifted away from it. That trip with Donavon woke it back up. It reminded me how much I missed the ocean, the unknown, and the feeling of being completely out of your element.

In a strange way, music became the full-circle moment that launched my wildlife photography career.

I had started out wanting to be a rock star. Then I found my way into acting, then photography, then music photography. But it was music that eventually pushed me back toward the water, and the water opened the door to everything that came next.

The humpback whales. The great whites. The orcas. The tiger sharks. The leopard seals. Antarctica. The wild places that changed my life.

So when people ask why a wildlife and adventure photographer has a rock star portfolio on his website, this is why.

Music was never separate from the rest of it. It was the doorway. I didn’t become a rock star, but music still changed the entire direction of my life.

I once told this story to Edie Brickell, and when I finished, she looked at me and said, “But you are a rock star.”