Off Camera Flashes
I drive an old pickup truck. I love it. It works, but it’s also twenty-years old, and its creaky joints can be heard from the sidewalks as it rattles around the roads between North Queens and South Brooklyn.
My lighting equipment isn’t much different. It’s old. I love it. It works, but it has the same tenuous “held-together-by-tape-gum-and-string” quality as my truck.
Every now and then, I’ll get behind the wheel of someone else’s car, and it’s a new car, and it’s a luxury car, and it’s like I’m stepping into an alien spacecraft with its