The First Real Gig
It’s 2014, and I’ve just come through what I half-jokingly called my early-thirties crisis — a rough stretch filled with frustration, physical pain, and big questions about where my life was heading. It was a rough patch marked by a broken arm, three surgeries, and eleven screws, two plates, and one rod now holding my forearm and wrist together. Back then, I was starting to consider a career change from being an industrial designer to becoming a photographer.
While on leave and still recovering from my first forearm surgery, I got a call from a good friend who happened to work at Warner Music. She asked if I could take some photos for work, specifically of an UK artist performing soon in Bogotá.
When I asked who this person was and learned it was Joss Stone, my answer was immediately yes. I was not going to lose the opportunity to photograph one of my teenage crushes!
Without much thought, I said yes.
The days passed and the concert was getting closer, and anxiety started kicking in. I had never done a single live event photo. All I had done by then was some hobby work and, occasionally, food photography. I had no idea what to expect from a concert or what would be expected of me. The only thing I had was the will, the excitement, and, by coincidence, a new camera with a new lens — a product of my boredom at home, scrolling eBay for too long. Thank goodness there was no TikTok back then.
The day arrived. I packed my trusty bag — the one I already mentioned in another story — and my dad was not looking at me with kind eyes. To him, I was meant to be resting and healing. But come on man, it’s Joss Stone!
Not knowing what I was going to do, I packed everything I could into my backpack. Everything! I made sure the batteries were charged and off I went, with only one functional arm — the other in a cast, supported by a neck sling. The new camera, the new lens, a bunch of other lenses (mostly cheap ones), a flash, and a lot of excitement and questions. What exactly was I going to shoot? Would it be easy? Surely it was just shooting the performer. I had the whole concert, surely I could get something good.
I arrived at the venue after surviving TransMilenio — I should have taken a taxi, but no work meant no money, mate. I met my friend at the entrance, who directed me to the person in charge of managing media. Oh wow, I was media! That sounded so fancy, especially considering just days earlier I was doubting if I should even be there at all.
I got to the person, and the first thing I remember was him looking at my cast and saying, "You shouldn’t be here." I remembered my dad’s words and started to believe them. But no — it was Joss Stone! Forget about it and keep going. I said to the guy, "Nah, I’m fine, nothing serious." He grunted and then sent me to a specific spot near the stage.
Then I saw some other guys like me preparing their stuff calmly and waiting for instructions. That’s when I realised — oh, I’m not that special after all. LOL. I still wonder what I was thinking back then. That it would just be me and Joss Stone? Ah, what a fool. LOL.
Suddenly, the producer showed up and started: "Alright everybody, the show is about to start. I know you’re here to get some photos and videos for your magazines, so listen carefully. You will have the first 20 seconds of the first two songs to get the images you need. That is all. After that, you must stop and leave. Also remember, no flashes. You'll be moving in the photo pit area, between the crowd barrier and the stage. That’s all. Understood?"
Everyone was chill. They were professionals. They knew what to do and how to do it. I was just a dude with a broken arm, a basic understanding of photography, and a fancy camera and lens that probably disguised me as a pro. But inside, I could still hear my dad’s words and the media manager’s voice: "What am I doing here? I should be at home healing that f-ing arm."
Everything happened quite fast, but I remember thinking: OK, no flash. Stage seems high and dark. Go with a locked aperture, set a manageable ISO and play with the shutter speed.
I chose the new lens — a 70-200mm f/2.8. The important number was 2.8 — it meant the lens could open wide to let in more light, perfect for low-light settings like a concert stage, and also create a soft background blur that made the subject stand out. I had a rough idea this would give me a creamy background and allow more light through. Mostly theory plus some shots I’d done before, but I had never really seen its full potential.
3, 2, 1 — they let us go.
Time was short. I only had 40 seconds to get it all done and achieve photos that captured the moment. I felt like I was competing with the others to see who could get the most creative angle, the best moment, something. Click. Click. A glance at the camera’s screen. Just enough time to check framing and exposure. Keep going. Adjust shutter speed. Shoot again… Stop.
First 20 seconds of the first song gone. Don’t think too much. Quick review of the photos. Check focus. I’ve never fully relied on autofocus, so I do most of the time back-button focusing instead.
Second song. Gates open. I felt like I was in Pamplona’s Running of the Bulls — all of us sprinted to find our spots, find angles, be creative, document, get the job done. Last 20 seconds, that’s all.
Go, go, go.
It felt fun and stressful. I looked at the others. Each one was in their own moment, their own universe, their own opportunity.
Then, time’s up.
We were called backstage and one of the bouncers already had a gate open for us to leave and join the crowd if we wanted. I did. I knew my friend was somewhere out there.
I found her after some searching, lowered my camera bag, and finally enjoyed Joss Stone’s concert.
Little did I know, what started as my first event photo gig would grow into a fun relationship with my Warner Music guys. They don’t work there anymore, but through them, I had the chance to meet or sneak a handshake with one of my favourite Colombian artists, Juanes. I got to experience one last wild, teenager-like party before life got too serious, photographing and dancing to David Guetta. I even did a "music" video, which has its own story I’ll tell one day. Don’t get too excited though. The video turned out terrible, but the lessons I learned were invaluable.
So thanks Angela, Juanca, Otero, Alejo, and Mechas for those amazing times that helped me learn more about myself and what I was capable of — while having a bit of fun!
