Meter for the shadows, process for the highlights—a conversation with Robbie Jeffers
Photo by Olanna Taskey
Moments of organic improvisation and collaboration between esteemed artists are taking place in a big way within some of LA’s most intimate venues. Players and fans alike have remarked on what feels like a renaissance of sorts, with so many great musicians gathering in small spaces to improvise together on any given night of the week.
Robbie Jeffers can often be spotted in these spaces, his now signature orange beanie poking out from the shadows, a Leica M6 pressed to his face. Robbie’s images, primarily shot on black and white 35mm film, have, in some ways, taken on the weight of the performances they depict.
Robbie’s career as a photographer began when he was a young man working in the world of skateboarding. Now 53, Robbie has become known amongst photographers, musicians, surfers and old car and motorcycle enthusiasts as someone who is dedicated to capturing and telling an authentic story with grace.
Early in the new year, Robbie was diagnosed with stage three Follicular Lymphoma. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting Robbie, you know just how great of an attitude he’s got, which seems to be ever present despite recently starting chemotherapy.
Robbie and I had the following conversation early on a Wednesday morning where we spoke about his new reality and Robbie shared stories of his past and insights into the unique perspective he’s formed of what it means to be a photographer.
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How are you feeling?
Right now, the chemo sickness has lifted, and I’m just fatigued. I don’t have any energy. My daughter came over the other morning and I did dishes for twenty minutes and then took a two hour nap [laughs]. I have six months of chemo to go. Six months of misery and tiredness. It gets compactly worse as it goes, as I understand. Chemo sickness is the real deal. Holy crap. It’s not like a bad flu, it’s a whole other league. It’s like, ‘woah, what is this?’
The nausea is the worst thing. Bring an ice pick over because I’d rather have that in my ear.
But a friend of mine gave me some edibles and an hour or so after I ate them, my nausea was manageable! It didn't take it away, but I didn’t want that ice pick. It takes the edge off and it makes you hungry, because you don’t eat. I’ve lost almost 50 pounds. I'm a believer, it works so well … I was joking with Madi [Cunningham] about it – how listening to Bill Evans or Miles Davis, I had never heard music like that before.
How have you been spending your time while you’ve been resting? Are you reading or watching anything? Listening?
Well, being super dyslexic, reading is a difficult task for me … I have been thinking about making this newspaper. I met a guy at ETA [in Highland Park] who went to college for printing. I want to make a Sunday morning paper, like a big one. Massive. I want to call it Darkroom Records, I’ll do interviews and take photos, and then I want to turn it into a podcast.
But yeah as far as listening goes, I'm a U2 nerd. I grew up in a neighborhood where everyone played music and spoon fed it to me, from the Sex Pistols to The Clash to The Beatles, and I’m so grateful. I remember watching “Under A Blood Red Sky'' on TV and I didn’t know who they were. I was 12 years old. I remember running outside up to my brother and his friends who were anywhere from three to twenty years older than me and being like, ‘do you guys like U2?’ One of the older guys looked back at me and just said ‘U2 sucks.’ When you’re young you want your own identity. I discovered U2. This was my band. I became such a fan. Then The Unforgettable Fire came out with Brian Eno Daniel Lanois producing. U2 was my first concert too. I slept in the bushes to get tickets when I was 14! In the early 80s life was a little different. I saw them at the Long Beach sports arena which held about 5000 people. It felt huge to me. Just floored me. ‘This is what I want to do.’ That's how my love of music came to be. I did recently buy Bono's book and I’m gonna read it even though it'll take me years to finish it.
Where did you grow up?
Orange County.
What is special to you about living in Los Angeles?
I’m actually not a fan! I never have been. [Laughs]. But it’s home.
… About a decade ago, I had this wild hair up my butt to document the LA music scene. You have to understand, I’m in love with music. It’s truly the most important art form God has given us. There’s nothing more important. Every emotion is given through music. A song can make you cry, amped up, laugh, mellow out … I’ve been super into Bill Evans– there’s this song called “Peace Peace,” and I can’t stop listening to it. When I have music on and I'm shooting, I see things differently. The chemistry in my brain changes. I know that sounds weird, but I think that happens.
But on the flip side of that, when I’m shooting a live show, I can't pay attention to the music because I'm not a multi-tasker. A lot of times I have to stop to really appreciate it. I remember shooting Metallica once and someone asked me how it was and I was like ‘I don’t know.’ I didn’t consider myself a Metallica fan. When I shot them, I didn't pull my camera down and listen. But, when I shot U2 in 2006 at MSG, that tripped me out. There I was shooting this band that molded my life.
What are some memories you have of that moment?
I remember pissing off Michael Stipe in the green room, I’m not sure how I did that. [Laughs]. But talking to Bono afterwards–it was one of the only times I ever fanned out. He was so gracious. I was so nervous. This band molded my personality. Here I am working with them. And people say don’t meet your heroes … I don't want to meet Anton Corbijn. He is my biggest hero and I'm afraid I might let myself down … But meeting Bono, I was so nervous, and I was shaking his hand and remember noticing he had fat fingers. He’s the sweetest, kindest dude. [U2] wasn’t thinking about talking to the press, not about tomorrow, they were in the moment talking to you. They compartmentalized that conversation. It was pretty surreal.
I got a text message from Daniel Lanois when I was in the hospital. All his records he did with U2 are my favorites. So that was another trip I had recently.
What was it that got you into photography as a profession?
I got into photography by accident when I was working in marketing at Stüssy. Frank, the owner of Stüssy, didn't want to pay for photographers. This was pre-digital, so it was all film. I went out and bought a used Nikon F4. I didn't even know what lens it had. A friend told me to use f 2.8 or faster. All I had was this 24mm–just the fixed lens on the camera. Ignorance is bliss! I just made it work. So I started shooting ads for Stüssy and fell in love with it. That was September 2002.
So maybe nothing has topped U2 but could you talk about some other memorable experiences you’ve had shooting?
I love being at ETA [Highland Park venue] shooting Jeff Parker with Anna [Butterss] and Josh [Johnson] and Jay Bellerose. Jeff used a couple of my photos I took of him at ETA for his new album. I was blown away. It’s always an honor when an artist uses a photo for an album cover. I respect and love all four of those players so much. But you know, ETA is so, so dark. I was pushing 400 speed HP5 four stops and shooting at an 1/8 of a second at 2.0. And [the photos] came out. I was able to manipulate them enough.
… I’m late to jazz, I just got into it before the pandemic. But I'm obsessed with it, I can't stop listening to jazz. It’s fresh, it’s new. It’s a new feeling.
What are some of the more challenging aspects that come to mind when you think about your career?
First of all, I still shoot film. I'm not saying that arrogantly, it’s why I'm broke. I just can't make digital photography look good. I shoot film for many reasons. I have all my gear, it’s all film. I don’t have the money to buy a $6k dollar camera. I'm so locked in on my gear. I just love it. Shooting film is like playing chess; you’re always thinking two moves ahead. ‘How am I going to process this? … Meter for the shadows, process for the highlights … So I’m gonna take some time off on this one so my highlights stay.’ Or when I go into the darkroom, there are so many things to think about. So I think about all of that while I’m shooting and it keeps me engaged. If I shoot digital, which I have, I just get lost. I tend to just get lazy. [Shooting film] is like Christmas to me, like ‘did I get it?’ … ‘The density looks good, but I’ve been fooled!’ Or, ‘They’re out of focus.’ … I made a makeshift darkroom in my garage. I love printing, it’s super fun. There’s a look to it–it’s the imperfection that I love about celluloid and grain, the different chemistries you can use to manipulate the grain and the contrast. I don’t know. There are so many photographers who are better than me, but there aren't that many who love it more than me.
But you know, I’ve tried to quit photography a thousand times. I tried to quit last summer and get a normal job. I even posted about it. But I keep coming back. … I got a divorce in 2011 and I moved in with my mom. My dad died also that year. So I just moved into my mom’s 3,500 sq. ft. home and it was just the two of us. And I never moved out, because I can’t afford it.
I remember this humbling moment when my daughter needed to include my yearly income to apply to some grants for school and we saw that she made more working as a barista than I made as a photographer. I made $9k that year. For the past 15 years I haven't made more than $15k a year. I keep coming back. My mom told me ‘do what you love.’ I’ve been very fortunate to have had a mom, a family member, give me that support and ability to continue to shoot.
I remember just before the pandemic, I was so burnt out. I asked Jay Bellerose ‘how do you stay focussed?’ He said, ‘You just have to stop for a while. You have to put it down.’ But I’ve never been able to do that.
I became fixated on documenting music in LA. You have world class musicians jamming in a space that’s no bigger than my bedroom. This is history. I remember noticing it before the pandemic when artists like Madison Cunningham would play at places like Mollusk surf shop.
Do you have a desire to publish or document your work in the form of a book or something of the like?
I think I’d feel sleazy, dirty, if I self-published a book. If a publisher came to me I'd do it. I don't think my photography is that special. … I have all my negatives, maybe I’ll give them to my kids to do that. … Big Thief and Madi [Cunningham]–I have thousands of images [of those artists]. Hundreds of rolls of film over the years. I met Madi when she was 14 through her dad. Something about her melodies, even when she was young, are so pure and sophisticated. I'm not a player, I don't understand music. But I've appreciated music so much. I love it so much that I get it.
Do you still experiment, or do you have methods or a process that you stick to?
I’m experimenting all the time! I was teaching black and white photography at a little college and was always telling people to find their own voice. You need to experiment to do that. I’m of the mindset that good artists borrow, great artists steal. You look at my photos and you look at Antoine Corbin’s photos and you’ll see I’m just ripping him off, and I’m the first to admit it. It’s the same concept as singing a song by Bob Dylan. It may be his song, but it’s your voice. So learn what it is that inspires you, or who inspires you, but experiment.
That's why I shoot a ton of HP5 because I know what it’s going to do. It takes one variable out, so I'm comfortable; it frees me to be carefree when I'm shooting. I shot Tri-X for 15 years before I changed. Hp5 is for me what a Telecaster is to Keith Richards. It’s part of his sound. But I’ve screwed up gigs before because of over-experimentation. Justin Stanley, a great producer, called me to this session with Jeff Babko and Abe Rounds. It was a dark studio so I figured I’d just explore. I think I pushed my film to something crazy like 10,000 ISO. 8,000 maybe. But it didn't work. Justin was like, ‘how much do I owe you,’ and I was like ‘oh crap.’ I missed.
What’s your philosophy around gear? What does it mean to you?
I don't know gear. People ask me, ‘hey is this a good camera?’ and I have no idea. If it’s not something I shoot, then I don't know.
There are two types of Leica shooters: One will wear it around their neck and use it as a tool. It’s a phenomenal tool, it’s the best tool out there. The other kind of Leica shooter will wear it as a necklace and show it off. I see the M6 as the best tool available to me. And yes, I have three. That’s also probably why I'm broke [laughs]. It’s the best camera for shooting music, period. I love the way the 35mm negative looks. It’s like an amplifier–the natural distortion, the natural breakup of the tubes that makes the amp beautiful. A Summicron lens and M6 body…it’s something different than what a medium format gives you. I’ll shoot portraits in large format but for live stuff I love the 35mm neg.
Are there things you know you’d like to photograph that you haven't yet?
No. I'm sure there are but I don't know. My friend Sam Webber who is a ripper, he told me that my photography is like jazz–that it’s best in a room, just let go. I work best when I'm forgotten about. And I feel better about that. I feel more like Kinda Blue–‘here’s the idea, let’s just go record it and see what happens.’
I'd get hired by companies who’d send me mood boards … I believe in having a North Star, but I might go east or I might go west to get to it. The classic phrase: ‘Blessed are the flexible for they shall not break.’ I try to go into shoots with that mentality. Let’s just wing it. Let’s see where it goes. I don’t like to think about what I want to shoot. If it happens it happens. For me, that’s what gets the best results.
What sort of things are on your plate at the moment?
Well, the past month I’ve just been laying in bed [laughs].
When I'm not chemo sick, I'm gonna go shoot. Tomorrow morning actually, mainly out of boredom, but I’ll get up super early and go to the beach, throw on a red filter and get some crazy black water, sky and … I might take the Hasselblad. I gotta shoot something. I need to get my mind preoccupied and photography is the only thing that I really know how to do that does that the best. I’ve been teaching myself how to play the piano and that’s been super fun. But, pushing the shutter and advancing the film has always been so therapeutic to me. I miss that right now. Just to shoot something, not commissioned. … Photography is like baseball–if a great batting average is hitting the ball only 35 percent of the time, then that’s a game of failure. Similarly with a roll of film with 36 exposures, if I get three or four that I want to print, that’s a home-run.
…I want to make my newspaper idea happen. As you can tell, I love talking to people. I think that's the best thing about photography…I love shooting portraits because everyone has a story… A great portrait photographer is ten percent button pusher, 90 percent psychologist. I don’t know if I heard that or if I made that up but it’s true. When I teach people how to shoot a portrait, for those who are using digital, you can’t fall in love with the LCD screen, that's how you lose that connection. When you're shooting film you take a photo and you keep eye contact and you talk about food or plants, whatever it may be, but the interaction is key to a great portrait. It’s like playing music, you need to have that interaction with the singer or bass player. That's what makes Jay [Bellerose] so good–he told me that he always asked for the lyrics first during a session so that he can hear the dynamics of the lyrics. That to me is such a sophisticated way to approach drums. That's so selfless. It puts the song ahead of him.
… Kieth Richards is what Charlie Watts is trying to elevate. I shoot this guy named Karl Denson a lot–Karl took over on saxophone in The Stones. Stories that I hear about Charlie Watts are so rad, it makes all the sense in the world. So selfless, but so good. He could play the jazz stuff, but you listen to The Stones, and it’s perfect. Nobody had a back beat like Charlie, and same with Ringo. So simple but so perfect. That's the way I try to approach shooting a portrait. I want to be selfless to try and elevate the portrait. Jay tells me that I become like wallpaper, and people forget I’m there–I get in the way if I'm seen. A good photographer is capturing the moment. I don't see it as art. I feel like I'm Walter Cronkite just telling you what happened. I'm influencing it if I'm there, but if I'm a fly on the wall, that's the moment in time that's happening. I like to be unseen.
The orange beanie is kind of the exception to that–I need it to stand out and to help market myself. ‘Oh cool, that guy’s here and he’s gonna take photos, let him in.’ I wear it to distinguish myself.
