That Time I Used the Force… and Shot for ELLE UK | Behind the Lens
A behind-the-scenes tale of burnout, brilliance, and blind luck- the day I hit creative rock bottom and landed a dream gig anyway.
Natural Light Beauty Shoot - Behind the scenes at Milk Studios NYC
Let me tell you something about 2012.
Even with the benefit of hindsight, the scar tissue of survival, and a rearview mirror polished by a thousand late-night replays- I still can’t quite describe who I was back then. Not honestly. Not without wincing.
I had played the part of a card-carrying creative professional for 5,326 days straight. No vacations. No sabbaticals. Not even a proper mental health day. Just go, go, go. I’d become a kind of urban myth- a man kept upright by caffeine, deadlines, and pure uncut willpower.
But describing that version of me politely? That’s the tricky part.
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Prelude to a Hustle
I moved to New York from LA in late ’97. The tech sector welcomed me like an overpaid lover. Photography? At the time, barely a side gig. Just a whisper in my ear.
Then September happened- that September. And suddenly the idea of chasing a comfortable paycheck in a cubicle became my personal circle of hell. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pretend anymore.
So I did the most irrational thing imaginable:
I maxed out every card I owned and went all in.
Mamiya RB system. Strobes. A drum scanner. No mentor. No connections. No idea how to become the man I’d need to be to survive in this industry- let alone keep my soul intact while doing it.
I fucked up. A lot.
But as anyone who plays golf, or chases dreams, can tell you: it takes years to be bad at it.
Bogey. Par. Bogey. Bogey. Eagle.
Ever seen Home for the Holidays? There’s a moment where Robert Downey Jr. narrates a string of wins and losses like a drunken caddy.
That’s this life.
Bogey. Par. Par. Bogey. Bogey. Bogey. Eagle.
Repeat.
Some of those bogeys hit like a wrecking ball. Some show up just when you’ve started to catch your breath, dragging along their sadistic cousins for a tag-team beatdown. You come to with your face in the mat, remembering the exact inch of floor you were kicked into last time.
You think about quitting. You self-medicate. You lie to yourself in increasingly poetic ways.
You say I’m fine like it’s a prayer, a dare, and a punchline.
And then- out of nowhere- comes the Eagle.
That fleeting, holy moment of creative elation where everything clicks. When the light hits just right, the crew flows like water, the camera sings, and you remember why you ever started.
Suddenly you’re out celebrating. The table’s full of buttery entrées, emptied bottles, and French cigarettes that punctuate the night like a parenthetical around a bad decision. You slip something illicit in the restroom. Watch the sun crest over the Manhattan skyline. Feel like a god.
And then… two days later?
Your calendar’s empty. A barren wasteland.
No gigs. No guarantees.
Just hope and hunger.
THE POINT.
If you’re already in a codependent relationship with chaos-
If you thrive on validation and eat your own stress like breakfast-
If you crave the high of a perfectly exposed frame the way junkies crave fire in their veins-
You’ll survive.
Because this business?
She’s a mistress who stumbles in at 4am reeking of gin and perfume and someone else’s attention- but the sex is so good once in a while that you let it all slide.
When your work hits, Sinatra starts singing just for you.
You feel like a goddamn rockstar.
All your demons go quiet.
Even the shame of your most recent self-inflicted failure gets washed away in that post-coital glow of a podium finish.
But not every horse wins. Not every gamble pays out.
If your business game’s weak in early-2000s New York, prepare for trench warfare. And the minute the high wears off? The fear comes crawling back in. Dressed like your worst thoughts. Sounding a lot like your father.
You better have a plan for the in-between.
Or at least a decent vice.
Here’s hoping I didn’t make it worse.
Here’s hoping I forgive myself when I inevitably do.
Here’s hoping I’m okay with being the guy who has fewer and fewer close friends- and still chases beauty like it’s oxygen.
Here’s hoping I don’t burn it all down before the next 11th-hour call comes in:
“Can you shoot tomorrow? It’s for ELLE.”
And six editions later, there I am. Global spreads.
My images. My fingerprints.
My story- written in shutter clicks and sweat.
Sorry. I think I got off-topic.
Something about an eagle?
I’ll get back to you.
📸 TECHNICAL SPECS:
Location:
Milk Studios, NYC – 20,000 sq. ft. daylight studio (AKA the suntrap of the gods)
Camera Body:
Canon 1DX (DSLR, no silent shutter)
Novoflex EOS-Nikon F Adapter
Workaround:
Due to set restrictions, I couldn’t shoot stills. Instead, I shot 4K video at max resolution, pulled selects via After Effects, converted frames to DNG, de-noised, and up-res’d each final image in Photoshop.
“Was it ideal? No. Did it work? Better than anyone expected.”
Lenses (Vintage Nikon F-mount primes, mid-70s):
50mm f/1.9
105mm f/2
135mm f/2.8
Filtration & Accessories:
Tiffen Glimmer Glass 1
Chrosziel Matte Box
Gitzo Monopod
Dreamy black and white closeup of Nadine Ponce being brushed with makeup, photographed by Keith DeCristo during an ELLE UK shoot.
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Focused black and white portrait of Gucci Westman mid-application during a high-profile beauty shoot for ELLE UK at Milk Studios NYC
Behind-the-scenes profile photo of Nadine Ponce in the makeup chair, photographed during a fashion editorial with makeup by Gucci Westman
Nadine for ELLE UK BTS Beauty Shoot, Milk Studios 2012
Dramatic black and white portrait of Nadine Ponce using curtain light effect, part of Keith DeCristo’s BTS beauty shoot for ELLE UK.
“I believe every man’s finest hour, his greatest fulfillment to all he holds dear, is that moment after he has fought, with all of his heart, for a worthy cause, and lies exhausted on the field of battle, victorious.”
— Vince Lombardi
Ethereal beauty portrait of Nadine Ponce in a sheer dress set against a vibrant yellow background, captured by Keith DeCristo.
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