DBZ: 1973-2014.

On the Monday before Christmas, my best friend tied a rope to his bathroom doorknob, threw the line over the top, and hanged himself. Now six months have passed, and it feels weird that I haven't written anything here.

This cameraphone photo is the only shot I have of Dominic from the brief time he stayed with us during the summer of 2013. We were in the midst of our three-year home renovation, living out of a makeshift apartment in the basement. Dom is doing dishes in the slop sink between the washing machine and the stove.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I love this picture: Dom is smiling, you can see his *B*M*X* tattoo, and — oh-so-poignantly — he's sporting the Pretty Heavy freestyle crucifix t-shirt. If there was ever a martyr for bmx, it was Dom.

It was an honor to be so closely involved in the logistics of his death — I wrote Dom's obituary, crowdfunded his cremation, organized a private memorial for his close friends and a public memorial for the Portland bmx community, and dispersed his ashes and belongings to far-off acquaintances, many of whom had never met him in person.

Each of those items felt like a critical, time-sensitive task because I knew people were grieving and needed closure.

What remains has more to do with Dom's legacy than his death. Empire is going to do a run of memorial T-shirts based on Dom's signature raccoon graphic. Eventually Goods will host the permanent archive of his bmx-related original artwork. His bike now hangs from the ceiling there.

Whenever things were going rough for Dom, I'd try to comfort him with the assurance that we would one day be old men sitting in rocking chairs on my front porch. But now he's gone forever, just another dead guy, like every other nameless human since the dawn of creation.

In the weeks following Dom's death, I was so consumed with the minutiae of organizing everything that it felt like I didn't have time to grieve. Now I know that this whole process is grieving. This is me screaming to the world, "Dominic isn't just some dead guy now! He was important, and he's still important! Don't you dare move on!" I want him to stay as alive in everyone else's memories as he is in mine.

Currently the DBZ Archive is a folder sitting on a shelf in my workshop. I also have the contents of his external hard drive backed up on my computer. I don't know when I'll get around to organizing it all in a way that seems sufficiently formal and permanent. Some time this summer, maybe.

Once the shirts and archive are done, Dom's life and death will be out of my hands. I anticipate that it will be a feeling of relief and emptiness. If it takes a while, it's probably because I'm not yet ready to let go.

Video Vibes: The Two Secrets to Making Videos That Don't Suck.

What I'm about to discuss are two principles of editing that I figured out seven years ago while making bmx is cute. These ideas may not be obvious, but they're not complicated or counterintuitive, and I'm amazed that no one has ever pointed out how powerful and important they are.

More to the point, I'm amazed that so many professional videographers seem to overlook or disregard these principles, to the detriment of their work.

These two principles have nothing to do with tricks, style, creativity, spots, camerawork, art direction, or the nitty-gritty of editing and production. They have only to do with that critically important, seemingly intangible quality known as "vibe."

My theory is that, when we refer to a video's "good vibes," we're really talking about authenticity. "These feel like real people," we say unconsciously. "This feels like real life."

And these two principles, as far as I can tell, are the sole determining factors for a video's vibe. Here goes.

1. Audible bike sounds.

Yes, it really is that simple. Behind the soundtrack, you must be able to hear the riding. Turn the music levels down, turn the background noise up. Crank it so high that you can hear the white noise: traffic, wind, nature. Try it. Use software to "equalize" the overall range and dampen the harshness of pegs grinding on metal.

The single most important sound in a bmx video is the whizz of 20-inch tires over pavement, plywood and packed dirt. It's the sensation at the heart of why we all started riding bmx, and it's definitive proof that bmx is cooler than trials riding or fixie freestyle. If you can't hear the tires, then you're just watching a music video.

Check out Rich Forne's Dig edit from 2012. The riding sounds are everything.

2. Faces. 

You need to choose filming angles that show the riders faces — if not at the exact moment of the trick, then leading up to the trick or riding away from it. There should be some moment when the rider's face is visible, and it's the editor's responsibility to fit this into the video. It won't always be possible, but the more "face clips" you can get into a video, the better the vibe. 

The increasingly common second-angle camera makes it even easier to get a visible face for every trick. Even if the trick isn't some first-try-or-die banger, I think it's often worth considering a second angle just to show the rider rolling away with a smile.

Faces are private and personal. This is why family portraits are so awkward and why your favorite photos of yourself are probably candid shots.

Candid moments captured on film or in video are magical, and there is no candidness without a face.

And no authenticity without candidness.

And no vibes without authenticity.

This is why your video needs faces.

As unwieldy as the word "candidness" is, it's an easier concept to grapple with than "authenticity," so I'll probably be using it a few more times before we're done here. We still have a fair bit more ground to cover.

Now, this blog post is directed at the filmers and editors on the production side of the video process. But what about riders who just don't show their faces while riding? I don't have an answer, but I do have some thoughts. 

Starting around 2006, the bmx world was introduced to a tiny kid on a huge bike with an ungodly amount of bike control named Dakota Roche. I vividly remember being blown away by Dak's stylish, aggressive riding, but even more vivid is the memory of the complete lack of a vibe from any of his early footage. With his face completely hidden behind long hair and flatbrim pulled down to his nose, I just couldn't imagine that this incredibly talented rider had a personality. I remember screaming into my own brain, What does this guy's face look like??? And I basically wrote the guy off. For years.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, check out the Seattle scene videos Getting Loose and Second Grenade, Lotek Vancouver, and FitLife. Perhaps I'm the only person who ever felt this way.

But when Dakota finally did start to reveal his face in videos, my feelings changed completely.

Not only was it a relief to know what the guy looked like — His smiling eyes revealed a depth of character that blew me away every bit as profoundly as his riding ability once had, so many years ago.

Watch this now:


The thing I love about Dakota's riding is you can feel how hard he is working for every single clip. It doesn't simply look effortless. Rather than applying a new trick to the same old setup or hucking the same trick down more stairs, he continues to push the technical side on terrain that just gets bigger and burlier. He really is riding at the limit of his ability with complete commitment. There is something deeply personal and profoundly authentic about Dakota's riding.

I've never met Dakota, but if I ever get the chance, I know I'm going to be a complete, fawning dork. I can think of no one more deserving of a Monster energy drink sponsorship.

At the risk of putting way too fine a point on it, I'll highlight three features of the above video: visorless winter hats instead of baseball caps, the tasteful inclusion of candid non-riding "lifestyle" clips, and lots of expertly exposed footage that shows Dak's face even in the shadows. Credit for item #1 goes to Dakota, item #2 to the editor, and item #3 to the filmer (and possibly new camera technology).

(Also note the audible-yet-unintrusive bike sounds. Perfectly done.)

...

If you get the bike sounds and faces into your riding clips, you're well on your way to good vibes.

But there is one very important caveat to the faces principle:

2.1. Don't be an idiot.

This is the part where I talk about "lifestyle footy." If you're going to include non-riding clips in your videos (and I think you should), it needs to be done right. It needs to be candid.

It's easy to capture candidness in riding clips, because the riders are focused on pulling their tricks. These are fundamentally candid moments.

Filming those same schmucks off their bikes is a whole different equation.

High fives, fist-bumps, party footage, tour bus hijinks, vandalism, scenery, local characters, whatever — I'm not going to tell you what's appropriate to include. I am going to call your attention to what is potentially the most vibe-killing moment in a video. I call it "mugging for the camera."

Presumably, these dudes you're filming are your friends, they understand where this footage is going, and they're down with the camera. But that doesn't mean that it's easy to act natural with a fisheye jammed in your face.

If you stick a guy in front of a wall and film him doing nothing — a premise as ridiculous as it sounds, but a strangely common element in way too many bike videos — he may briefly maintain his cool. But the moment soon comes when he breaks character, shakes his head, and laughs to nobody in particular. You know the shot I'm talking about, right?

Same thing happens when the guy doesn't know you're filming him. There's a brief window of candidness, and then he realizes what you're doing, and he flips off the camera, jokingly.

Or he's carrying his bike up the stairs for another attempt at whatever it is, and you're sitting there with the camera running, and as he passes by, he sticks his face in the lens and makes some goofy expression.

All of those moments, which might seem "funny," are really not funny at all. What you're witnessing is just humans alleviating the discomfort of not knowing what to do while being filmed. It is in fact pure awkwardness — the opposite of candidness — and watching it makes us, the viewers, feel uncomfortable, whether we realize it or not.

(On the shooter's side, this is why Tumblr is overflowing with "street photography" of the backs of strangers heads and why the best street photographers and photojournalists are so amazing.)

That's my theory, anyway. It's up to you to decide whether any of what I'm claiming resonates as true.

For editors, the solution to this awkwardness is simple. Leave those awkward moments on the cutting room floor. While you're at it, you might as well tell your homeys not to make those stupid faces.

In fact, I'll say it for you: Hey riders, quit making stupid faces.

Gravity-Powered.

The "Gravity Powered Vehicle mini craze" was long dead by 1988, but I'm not surprised to find the mantle raised again and burning brightly in Portland, Oregon, 2010, just ten blocks downhill from the Zoobomb pile.

Saturday night, my cousin Trey and I happened upon this fellow parked at Voodoo Doughnut, and I instantly identified his custom "GPV" as a DK SOB.

"It was the heaviest frame I could find," hippie Clint explained (as per the gravity-powered premise).

Although it's a confusing sight at first, the bike is sitting right-side-up, with a seat welded to the chainstay wishbone. The handlebars underneath turn 90 as knee rests, and you can see disc weights hanging down below.

The handlebars (SBC 4-piece Strips) also turn 90 but remain inverted, with curved tubing tack welded in place for additional hand positions. (Also note the vintage S&M Ditchforks.)

Clint says he stopped riding bmx around 2001, and after we waxed bmx-nostalgic for a few minutes, asked if I knew of anyone selling a complete bike for cheap. "Nothing too light," he said. I said I would put him in touch with someone who might be able to help and took down his email address.

(Caleb, I'm looking at you.)

...

Two nights later, Trey and I were out on another late ride when the red foldie suddenly fell apart in Trey's hands. He avoided crashing, but I confess that his look of bewilderment was priceless, as the bike slow-motion folded in half beneath him. Serendipitously, we were just then directly in front of Voodoo, and so were Clint and his taxi, reggae gently bumping. He was quick to offer his help and the use of his tools. The confusing repair took our combined concentration more than ten minutes to work out, bending and hammering and furrowing our brows, everything finally slipping together effortlessly in one fabulous aha moment. A cotter pin from Clint's tool bag clipped it all permanently in place.

The satisfaction of the experience was palpable, not to mention the value of Clint's tools, the cotter pin, and not having to walk a bike home. We expressed our gratitude and insisted on tipping him a few bucks, against his protests.

Stranger than...

"Excuse me," this fellow says, approaching me on the city sidewalk this morning. "Could I ask you a favor? Take my picture and email it to me, so I can update my resume?"

I thought he might have been homeless--sweaty but clean, lugging all his worldly possessions in a huge duffel bag and fanny pack. His forced smile seemed troubled and harried; perhaps sleep-deprived.

I pondered the randomness for a second and then obliged.

"Okay," I replied. "Sure." Since I had my camera in my jeans pocket (as I pretty much always do), it was a convenient request.

"Oh man, thank you," he said. "Maybe a close up, then a full length body shot, then one without the bags?"

"Yeah, no problem."



He added, "How bout a profile shot?"

The stranger reviewed the pics, expressed his approval, and then wrote down his email address. When I asked his name, he simply added the initials M.A.

I told him I would send them off in a half hour. And I did. A quick google search for his email address turned up this expired Portland Craigslist ad, still lingering in the search engine cache:

EXCLNT. DRIVER 4 LONGER DELIVERY TRIPS clss C
Date: 2009-07-18, 5:29PM PDT Reply to: snappersnufflufugus@netzero.net. I'm looking for a driving job, something that takes me out of the portland metro ...

Feels like a true, sad mystery. Glad I didn't blow him off.

Hope the photos help him.

A True Story.

My first published piece ever, from Dig #52, May 2006. This blog post prompted by an excellent bmxboard thread...


Click image to zoom in and read.

Closure...

After September 7th's post, I never saw Grasshopper on my car again. Tonight, as I sat on my patio, exploiting the wireless signal from some unknown neighbor, drinking coffee and getting lost in the depths of Wikipedia, this little fellow happened upon my screen. I set the computer down gently, ran and got my camera, and snapped this.



He's still there, antennae twitching, as I write. Young guy, looks like.

I Admire Your Tenacity, Young Grasshoppa.

Snapped this on my commute home Friday.




Perhaps you're familiar with these grasshoppers that have an incredible bright green color when they're very young. The entire body--eyes, head, abdomen, legs, antennae--is the same unreal color, like a delicate toy cast in plastic. (Their blood is green, according to Wikipedia.) Well, I spotted one chilling on the trunk of our car last Wednesday, as we headed out for errands. When I saw what appeared to be the same grasshopper on Thursday morning, I assumed that it was one of the original's cousins, maybe just attracted to the warmth of a dark-colored car.

Driving home on Friday, I was shocked to see the same grasshopper again, this time clinging to my side-view mirror, safely out of the wind, and I concluded that this was no coincidence. I spent the entire drive fumbling with my camera's exposure and flash, hoping to get a decent shot before he was inevitably gone, voluntarily or involuntarily. He appeared (Could it be?) ever so slightly larger, and a slightly less vibrant shade of green. "Wow, he's growing up fast," I thought.

I shared the pictures with my wife and visiting in-laws at dinner, and we all found it an amusing story.

We didn't drive anywhere on Saturday, and I didn't see him or think of him when we were running errands this Sunday afternoon. But we went out again tonight, and my wife and I thought of him, theorized what it all could mean, thought how ridiculous it would be to see him again. Jaime asked where on the car I'd seen him at the different times, and I told her it didn't seem like he had a particular favorite spot.

Not thirty seconds later, I shrieked when I saw him clinging to the windshield, resisting the 40 mph headwind. I slowed to a manageable 35 mph, Jaime narrated his every move, and I tried to focus on driving safely.

"Oh no, he's facing the wrong way, the wind is pulling at his wings!" she said. "Okay, he's turned back around....He's licking all his feet."

"He's licking his feet?! He licked all six feet?"

"No, just four... He didn't lick the back two... Okay, he's licking the fifth one now, he just needs to get the last one... Okay, he's got the last one, are you going to pull over?"

"Yes, there's a pull-out just ahead."

"What are you going to do? You know you can't help him," Jaime said, guarding the integrity of the symbolism.

"I know, I know. I just want to get another picture of him."

We pulled off, got out of the car, and tried not to startle him. He was still for a minute while I fired off a dozen pictures, and then he made his way across the top of the car to the rear windshield, where he stayed put.

Feeling a little better about that location, and with nothing left to do, we shrugged our shoulders, got back in, and resumed our outing.





As you can see in the final picture, his color has definitely changed. The green is almost completely gone. Soon I expect the yellow to be replaced with the dull brown/gray of maturity.

I will be inspecting the car regularly now and updating the blog daily until I'm sure he has left for good.

This must be how Tony Soprano felt about the ducklings in his swimming pool.

...

Grasshopper was a nice catalyst for a blog post.

I haven't posted in over a month, for reasons that are, ostensibly, good. I found work as an editor for the handbook and internal documents of a local health care management organization. Soon after starting there, I landed the news internship I'd been praying for at a well regarded alt-weekly, here in Portland. So I'm writing a ton, and loving it, but it doesn't leave much mental energy (or time) to apply to the blog. Furthermore, I'm studying for the GRE's (September 28th is the big day!), researching PhD programs and the possibility of moving, and trying to be a better husband and father, in support of my wife pursuing her professional and personal goals, and in support my own desire to be a less selfish person.

From one angle, all that logistical stuff should be wrapped up in a couple of months, and I could be feeling freer, riding the little bike more, blogging more. From another, I know that life tends to get more complicated, and I may never really feel "less busy."

Anyone else familiar with this sensation? My wife and I talk about the concept of "motion" all the time. Our life seems to follow a pattern, where we periodically end up complacent or stuck, not sure which goals we are working towards. Then one little event happens to energize us, and all of the sudden, life is crazy and flying by. And it's not just "I need a different job," and I start looking. It's like, when the motion kicks in, every aspect of our lives--professional, educational, creative, spiritual, emotional, personal, family--starts changing and advancing.

Thanks for reading. More on grasshopper tomorrow.