The First Frames: Holly in the Pines

The First Frames

Before the Leica. Before the studio. Before I knew what I was doing, there were these. The first frames. Awkward, overexposed, underexposed, sometimes lucky. But every one of them mattered.

This is the second in a series of early shoots — small moments that shaped how I learned to see.

I wish I remembered exactly where we were — somewhere in the Northern California foothills, probably not far from Sacramento. Could’ve been 1987. Maybe 1988. I just know it was summer, and the light was perfect.

I had my Yashica 635 loaded with Kodak VPS II. If memory serves, I was also using my Metz 60 CT flash — off-camera, thanks to a long sync cord. I started the roll under the trees where the light was patchy, and that flash gave me just enough fill to make it work.

Holly, somewhere near Foresthill. Yashica 635, Kodak VPS II, Metz 60 CT off-camera flash.

Holly was a friend — easy to work with, always smiling. She climbed a tree without hesitation, posing in that white outfit as if it were a full editorial spread. The popped collar, the gold chain belt, the wind in her hair… it was the 80s in all the best ways.

We wandered between shaded trees and open fields. I stopped using the flash once the light opened up. No reflectors, no assistants — just a quiet afternoon and a little bit of luck. I wasn’t trying to shoot for any magazine. I just wanted to see what I could make.

Looking back, I know there are things I could have done better — the lighting’s uneven, the compositions a little loose. But these frames have heart. They remind me of why I fell in love with photography in the first place. No pressure. No expectations. Just a camera, a roll of film, and someone willing to stand in front of the lens.