Priceless Lessons - 29 Years Later
I swore I’d never be a portrait photographer.
After five years of shooting, processing, and printing black-and-white film, I dreamed of becoming a photojournalist. I wanted to travel the world on assignment, capturing real moments like the ones I obsessed over in old National Geographic issues.
Ansel Adams had just passed away, and I found myself scrambling to find his metaphorical shadow. I tugged on every sleeve I could in my small hometown of Pendleton. One of the local studio owners finally pointed me to his competitor, VerBaere Studios.
“Go talk to Lou. He taught photography at a college in Chicago and likes to share.”
That one sentence changed my life.
Lou and I hit it off instantly. Our 50-year age gap meant nothing to him—and even less to me. Despite the rarity of mentorship in this craft, he welcomed my curiosity and drive.
He let me use his pro lab to print one of my best landscape images, eagerly awaiting his feedback. It was the kind of scene I used to draw as a kid: blue sky, green trees, a rocky creek.
“What do you think about it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I came here for your opinion,” I said, trying to get a read on him.
“Maybe if there was a fish jumping out of the creek.”
His critiques grew sharper over the following weeks - always circling back to that same question. And I kept dodging it.
I was in awe of the warm sunset I captured along the Columbia Gorge. A stunning silhouette just sucked me into the scene like the day I captured it.
He asked - “Well, how do you like it?
“I like it, but what do you think?”
Rubbing his chin his expression showed disappointment as he said “Maybe if you put an orange filter over the lens it would’ve warmed everything up.”
I finally snapped.
“F*** you! It doesn’t matter what you think - it’s what I think that matters!”
That’s when he smiled. A full, beaming grin I hadn’t seen before. He slammed his wallet on the counter and said:
“Congratulations. You graduated. Now go buy us lunch.”
Backpacking Eagle Cap Wilderness - August 2000
Over sandwiches, he steered me back to my future.
“You can drop a hundred grand on a degree from Brooks Institute and walk out not knowing $#+ about business... or you can study here with me for free.”
And so began the best photography education I could’ve asked for. He taught me how to mask negatives, blend strobe with ambient light, plan marketing strategies, and how to appreciate a huge lab bill. “Why would you fear a bill this large, it means we’re doing some business!”
The one thing we barely discussed? Portraits.
Lou tried twice to get me interested, but I resisted every time.
“Think Ansel Adams,” I’d tell him. “I’m just not a portrait photographer.”
Three years later, I caved - if only to humor him.
We walked into the camera room. I went straight to his beautiful tank of a camera, the Mamiya RZ67 Pro II. He flicked on the lights.
As I brought the viewfinder to my eye, he stopped me.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he said. “You start over there.” He pointed to the posing stool.
That’s when I discovered the real challenge: being on that side of the lens.
“Where do I look?” “How should I turn?” “Am I doing this right?”
I went from technical questions to a Gatling gun of nervous ones. That moment, more than any workshop or tutorial, became the foundation for my entire portrait career.
Lou taught me to feel what the client feels … to understand the discomfort of being stared at by a lens. And to lead people through that process with confidence and empathy.
It’s been nearly 30 years since that day in the camera room, and I still carry that lesson. Any time I sense a client freezing up, I break my routine, step in front of the lens myself, and just… talk. About anything. It disarms the nerves, levels the field, and builds trust.
And that trust is the reason people come back and send their friends.
Because the truth is:
If someone says, “You look so much better than your headshot” … it is time.
Brian & Lou - 1988. More lessons here…
If your team’s “About” page looks like a ransom note of mismatched backgrounds … it is time.
If you’ve changed your hairstyle, grown wiser lines, or look more like your own older sibling … it is time.
Tomorrow (August 1, 2025) marks the start of my 30th year running a full-time studio. All because one teacher had the patience to let me resist him - until I didn’t.
If you or someone you know is ready to update how they’re showing up to the world, I’d be honored to help.
It’s not just a portrait. It’s a reflection of who you’ve become.
Done well, it will project an inviting expression for those you have yet to meet.
