Part of me says that I shouldn’t post everything that happened that week, something about the booze and the weed and other depravity that took place on the peripheries of the job. I’m not presenting a very professional picture of myself or my fellow videographers. Yet, that’s the way it was. We had to cope somehow. The long hours, the fatigue, the hotel, Spencer’s SARS. It seems unjust to leave out the booze and bongs because those are what got us through.
We were total professionals when on the job, but back at the hotel, or in the parking lot between competitions – that was our time.
Coping truly was the name of the game. Many people don’t realize the physical and mental demands of working camera for long periods of time. I certainly didn’t until I started doing it for gigs like this. Following a moving target, smoothly, zooming in and out to keep the rider and horse in 3/4 frame at all times requires constant attention and a delicate touch. By the middle of the week the muscles in my left arm were having spasms and my right hand on the zoom controls cramped up regularly.
Mentally you begin to zone out. Some kind of predatory reptilian instinct takes hold and follows the target for you without conscious effort. Your mind just kind of empties out, the edges of your vision blur. My vision actually began to take on the characteristics of a video image, refresh rate, colour temperature, framing – even without the camera. Its disconcerting to walk up to the concession stand and feeling like you’re watching it on TV.
The video camera became like an appendage and everything began to look like a shot. The distinction between reality and interlaced video began to blur. I knew things had gone too far when Alex started to talk in his sleep.
