carl costas, visual thinker

Inspiration comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors. For me, it’s almost always accompanied by things like passion, drive, commitment, and good old-fashioned heart. Stuff that makes my blood run faster, and sets my synapses on fire. So when I got the call to photograph performance painter David Garibaldi, I couldn’t grab my gear fast enough.

David is the picture of creativity. And I don’t care how hard you try, you simply can’t keep him down. He’s gone from expressing his art through graffiti and living hand-to-mouth as a youth, to electrifying audiences across the planet with his live shows – and the larger-than-life artworks that are born of them. He is a shining example of the heights a person can reach if they believe and just do. On top of all that, and more importantly, he’s one of the kindest humans I’ve met. I could talk all day about David and his work, but I’d rather suffice it to say that he, and folks with his level of passion for life, make me want to be a better me.

For a behind-the-scenes glimpse into his studio, have a look at the photos we made together here: http://carlcostas.com/garibaldi And to see the man in action, visit his site: http://garibaldiarts.com It’s an experience you’re sure to not soon forget.

I’ve always been a big fan of things that flow, move, and function; things that just work. I give much weight to the words of thinkers like the late jazz bassist Charles Mingus: “Making the simple complicated is commonplace; making the complicated simple, awesomely simple, that’s creativity.” And I would add that when motivated and talented people set out with a common goal, let nothing stand in their way.

Those mantras hit home recently when the talented crew over at Agency Misfit asked me to collaborate on a campaign for Drexel University. The plan was straight-forward: Photograph a dozen hyper-busy business leaders over a two day period, and rock each and every shoot. Fortunately for me, I was just a cog in the machine. Everyone around me, to a person, knew exactly what to do and when to do it. The result was more than a photoshoot, it was a meeting of like minds hell bent on cutting through the noise and laying hands directly on the signal.

A beautiful, awesomely simple signal.

Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run pioneer Gordy Ainsleigh photographed in the foothills of Northern California.

I’ve been fortunate enough to work with some of the most talented photo editors and art directors a photographer could hope to collaborate with. But personal work is satisfying on a completely different level.

My wife, kids, and I were mid way down the length of California, en route to the Most Expensive Place on Earth, when an email came through from TrailRunner Magazine. They had picked up on an image I made of Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run pioneer Gordy Ainsleigh and were looking to lead a piece titled “Legends of the Trail” with it.

Needless to say, I was happy to be a part. But under the surface, there was a deeper sense of content. I had photographed Gordy months earlier not because I was paid to, or even asked to. I met with Gordy in a thicket of the Northern California foothills simply because it was the right thing to do.

Gordy was the first person to run the arduous 100 mile event on foot — back when it was strictly an equestrian event. And in under 24 hours. He is a true trail blazer, a man among men, and nothing short of a living legend. Gordy’s been photographed countless times. To have an image that I made purely out of respect for his iron will rise to the top on nothing but its own merit is deeply satisfying.

And cause to charge on.

Nelson Rivera and his daughter Jocelin, 13, reflect on the death of their wife and mother, Lori Lewis-Rivera.

Jocelin Rivera never really knew her mother. But she knows the details of her death all too well. Jocelin was three-years-old when Lori Lewis Rivera was shot in the back by D.C. snipers John Allen Muhammad and 17-year-old Lee Boyd Malvo while vacuuming her employer’s minivan at a Maryland gas station. The bullet fragmented inside her body and destroyed her left lung.

In the decade that followed, the details of Jocelin’s mother’s murder gradually became a part of her reality. Today she appears to be an otherwise normal teenage girl growing up in modern suburbia; She pays special attention to her appearance, her friends, and the TV shows they all know and love. But tucked away in a special place, Jocelin keeps a few trinkets, a couple now faded photographs of the woman she bears an uncanny resemblance to — and memories of the mother she never really knew.

An original print of an image my mentor and longtime friend Jose Luis Villegas made of Grammy award-winning blues man James Cotton.

Shortly after leaving the Marine Corps in early 1998, my wife Stacy and I bellied up to a Benihana table next to a very nice looking couple for lunch. At some point, the question of what we each did with our days came about. Stacy’s response was simple; she was an educator, a gifted and talented one at that. And has been now for quite some time. I, on the other hand, was in the throes of transition from military service to what I hoped to be a long career of making photographs.

The couple we met turned out to be the talented and highly respected photojournalist Jose Luis Villegas and his lovely wife Ruth. Jose’s worldview was and is specific and simply beautiful. The lives he has touched and the subsequent stories he has told through is work are something to behold.

In what I would later find to be true to form behavior, Jose took me under his wing. In the years that followed, my career as a photojournalist budded under Jose’s guidance and advice. Eventually, we found ourselves side-by-side on assignment. Covering events large and small, local and national. Ultimately, I spread my wings and grew into myself.

Today, I mentor and teach those I am able. Each time I do, I can’t help but see the wild-eyed kid I used to be. And think back to how grateful I am to my now longtime friend – and the gravity of his gift to me.

My only hope is that I can somehow pay it forward.