On being a helper

At Pixel Studios trying to learn all those camera settings but really, I just had to look for the light... This had to be 2018?

The grill master

Leroy probably watching me wonder why I'm getting that black bar across half my images. Might have been my 1/500 shutter speed and lack of high speed sync. True story.

Best day ever. Thank you my friend!

We talk a lot about the people who inspire us. Mentors, teachers, leaders, the people who give us opportunities and help shape where we end up.

But I've been thinking lately about a much simpler group of people: the helpers.

The people who take a minute to answer a question. The ones who remember what it was like when they didn't know something yet. The ones who are willing to share what they know without making you feel stupid for asking.

I had a Nikon D3000.

I knew I needed a better camera, but I had no idea what I actually needed. So I did what seemed logical and started asking questions in photography groups on Facebook.

That didn't always go well.

Some of the more experienced photographers were pretty dismissive. I got comments questioning why I thought I needed a new camera when I didn't even know how to shop for one.

Eventually, I stopped asking.

Then I took a chance and messaged a photographer whose work I'd been seeing around town. He had a beautiful studio, and I'd noticed people tagging him in photographs from time to time.

His name was Leroy Mazyck.

I asked him questions.

He answered them.

No condescension. No making me feel like I was wasting his time.

He even suggested that if I rented some studio time with him, he'd show me some basics and help me get started with my new camera. (If you haven't been there, it's currently owned by a really outstanding couple, Shannon and Matt, who provide rental rates and the most incredible space and equipment a creative could need- check out their site-> HERE)

Leroy became my mentor.

Now, if you ask him about those early days, he'll probably tell you he doesn't think he had much to do with what came afterward. And he's right in the sense that I had to put in the years of work myself.

But I haven't forgotten who was willing to help me when I was still figuring out where to begin.

That's why I think about the helpers.

We don't always know what our small acts of generosity mean to someone else. We don't know whether the person asking us a question will stay in that field for six months or spend the next fifteen years doing it.

We don't have to know.

If we know the answer and have the time, we can just answer.

I've had people do that for me throughout my life. I've also had people who probably don't realize that something they said, showed me, or shared with me stuck.

Those things add up.

And eventually, you find yourself on the other side of the equation. Someone asks you something that seems obvious to you now, but wasn't obvious at all when you were starting out.

That's the moment when I try to remember the people who helped me.

Because nobody starts out knowing everything.

And now Leroy has a new chapter.

He's been retired from photography for several years and has spent a good deal of that time working on a sailboat—refitting, restoring, rebuilding, and turning it into something that will take him into whatever comes next.

So when I made this portrait of him, I wanted it to reflect that.

He's wearing a sailing hat and a pea coat, holding a length of rope and working on sailor's knots.

It's a little bit salty old sailor, a little bit storyteller, and very much Leroy.

I love that this is the chapter he's in now.

The photographer who once helped me figure out how to use a camera is now spending his time figuring out a boat.

Life is funny that way.

We spend years learning one thing, teaching someone else what we know, and then eventually move on to something completely different.

I don't know where that boat will take him.

But I do know that I'm grateful our paths crossed when they did.

And I hope he knows that the time he spent helping a photographer with a Nikon D3000 wasn't insignificant to me.

It was part of my story.

So thank you, Leroy.

And to all the people who have ever answered a question, shared some knowledge, opened a door, or taken the time to help someone who was still learning:

Don't underestimate what you're giving away.

You may never know where it goes.

I certainly didn't.

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