The Long Island Incident

"The Long Island Incident"

This was one of those TV movies where the network wanted gallery-quality promotional photos, but wasn’t willing to pay for a proper gallery shoot.

It was a bitterly cold November in Hamilton, Ontario, and the production was filming at a railyard. The network had asked me to work some magic and deliver a gallery-worthy shot, despite the lack of time, budget, and resources.

I arrived with an assistant, a Profoto battery-powered strobe, and a small lightbox. While watching the scene unfold, I realized the key to capturing its atmosphere was to use the train as a backdrop, keeping it in that cold, steel-blue tone, while lighting Laurie naturally, without making her look overly glamorous.

The trick was simple: shoot with tungsten film (this was before digital), which renders daylight as a cool blue, and light Laurie using a tungsten gel on the Profoto to keep her skin tone warm and natural.

The concept was solid. Execution? That was another story.

The producer agreed to give me a few minutes with Laurie after the director wrapped the scene. But in television, promises are about as sturdy as a pop-up tent in a hurricane, especially when money’s involved.

Just as I was about to start shooting, the 1st assistant director called for lunch, and suddenly my carefully arranged plan was sidelined. Lunch meant lost light, and with it, my creative vision. I knew I had to act fast.

I raised my voice (well, more like pleaded), asking Laurie for just two minutes. I also reminded the producer that the network probably wouldn’t love the idea of me coming back another day, on their dime, for the promo photos.

Reluctantly, they gave me five minutes. Just enough time to crank two rolls of film through my Hasselblad.

The Long Island Incident

"The Long Island Incident"

This was one of those TV movies where the network wanted gallery-quality promotional photos, but wasn’t willing to pay for a proper gallery shoot.

It was a bitterly cold November in Hamilton, Ontario, and the production was filming at a railyard. The network had asked me to work some magic and deliver a gallery-worthy shot, despite the lack of time, budget, and resources.

I arrived with an assistant, a Profoto battery-powered strobe, and a small lightbox. While watching the scene unfold, I realized the key to capturing its atmosphere was to use the train as a backdrop, keeping it in that cold, steel-blue tone, while lighting Laurie naturally, without making her look overly glamorous.

The trick was simple: shoot with tungsten film (this was before digital), which renders daylight as a cool blue, and light Laurie using a tungsten gel on the Profoto to keep her skin tone warm and natural.

The concept was solid. Execution? That was another story.

The producer agreed to give me a few minutes with Laurie after the director wrapped the scene. But in television, promises are about as sturdy as a pop-up tent in a hurricane, especially when money’s involved.

Just as I was about to start shooting, the 1st assistant director called for lunch, and suddenly my carefully arranged plan was sidelined. Lunch meant lost light, and with it, my creative vision. I knew I had to act fast.

I raised my voice (well, more like pleaded), asking Laurie for just two minutes. I also reminded the producer that the network probably wouldn’t love the idea of me coming back another day, on their dime, for the promo photos.

Reluctantly, they gave me five minutes. Just enough time to crank two rolls of film through my Hasselblad.