Trent Ferguson Photography 2.0

I have a confession.

Mom and Dad, I broke your camera.

I think I was seven when I pulled apart the Kodak Instamatic camera (and accidentally exposed a cartridge of 126 film) trying to figure out how the shutter worked. It happened at Grandma's house and it was our secret. My demonstration of such enthusiasm and curiosity resulted in Grandma giving me her camera: a Brownie Starflash from the 1950s. I still have her camera today.

A couple years later, for Christmas in grade four, my parents got me a Polaraid Land camera (SX-70) as we got ready to head to Disneyland for Easter. To take off on a little bit of a tangent, Polaroid was the digital of its day: instant gratification photography. You pushed a button and, like a tongue from a snake, the picture slowly rolled out from the front of the camera and you tucked it in your pocket for sixty seconds (because body heat helped it develop). Polaroid's downfall, however, when compared to digital, was cost. In 1977 (if I remember correctly), a cartridge containing ten unexposed positives was more than ten dollars. Imagine spending more than a dollar for every image you shot.

Junior high school introduced me to the pleasures of a darkroom (no, not that kind!). I spent hours shooting black and white film and developing it in our school's darkroom. I learned how to push and pull process, how to dodge and burn, and that printing colour negatives on black and white paper does not work well.

When the economy collapsed in the early eighties, my ability procure the funds to support my photographic habit dried up.

About eight years later, I dipped my toe back into the world that I love. For our first anniversary, I bought my first wife a 35 mm camera with a macro setting and the ability to double expose an image. Six weeks later we split up. She kept the camera. I don't blame her: it was a really nice camera.

Not to be disappointed again, I went through a pile of disposable cameras: with flash, without flash, regular, panoramic, underwater...you name it, I tried it. I may well have attended weddings just to steal the disposable cameras off the tables.

Jennifer knew, or suspected, all of this and married me anyways. She came into our relationship carrying a 35 mm camera and together we entered the digital world with the purchase of a 3.2 megapixel Sony Cybershot.

I hated digital.

I was accustomed to pushing a button and actually taking a picture; not pushing a button and waiting...and waiting...and waiting...turning the camera around to check if it was actually working only to have the flash go off in your eyes. Eventually, I got used to it. And then we had kids.

The birth of our daughter coincided with the rebirth of my digital despise. She could barely crawl, and yet she was out of the frame before the camera would take the picture. So many beautiful memories that are in our heads and not on paper (yes, on paper - we still print our pictures. We both believe that a photograph should be properly printed and hung. Looking at an image on a monitor is like reading a newspaper off the internet: there is something tactile that is missing.).

Enter the DSLR. The ability to squeeze the shutter and take the picture was a revelation. It combined the instant gratification of Polaroid, the flexibilty of digital, and the speed of film with a cost effectiveness that is unparalleled.

The race was on. He who dies with the most toys wins.

Finally having the means to acquire the equipment to shoot in the way and the style that I see, I went on a shopping spree of epic proportions: backdrops and strobes that provide the freedom to light a person with drama; lenses and camera bodies that provide razor sharp images and capture every hair; and the computing power and software to remove blemishes and imperfections where necessary.

For my 40th birthday, my wife gave me the best gift: a business of my own. In the beginning, it was my vision as a photographer that we based ourselves on. Being a representative of my name, however, requires PR skills that I don't necessarily have. Jennifer has always been our public contact and has begun asserting herself as the face of our company. Her friendly voice and smiling face seem to be more conducive to a successful business than my, at times, direct way of phrasing things.

In the meantime, I seem to have been contagious.

My wife, who held a passing interest in photography when we met, is becoming an accomplished shooter. For events that we cover, Jennifer delivers fully one-third of the images that are presented. I'm not certain that her goal is not to run me out of my own company, but it is certainly comforting to have her by my side. Not only is she my wife, the mother of my children, my lover and my best friend, but I have discovered that she someone that I work well with. As photographers, our individual styles are somewhat similar, and any differences are complementary. Jennifer sees the smallest details and makes them larger than life. I see huge vistas and pare them down to what I envision as the essence of the image.

A photographer that I admire, Sam Hassas, has a motto: "I make you look good". I'm not at Sam's level yet, but it's a goal that I strive for.