What Festival Crowds Don’t See
2am. I have my arm outstretched above my head as I slowly shuffle through the crowd, carefully avoiding the rhythm of hands and feet as I line up the frame. The drop hits. click click click click click. I continue weaving through the motion until I escape the sea of people. I give security a quick nod and slip through the shadowed backstage entrance. Someone hands me a cup of water and we chat while I swap lenses and batteries.
Recharge.
Deep breath.
Time to go back out again.
If you've ever worked at a festival, you know it's a completely different experience than attending one. Every role comes with its own perspective and helps shape a unique experience. Being on the media team can be a different beast entirely and is difficult to completely switch off. There are assignments to complete, content requirements to meet, same-day edits waiting to be delivered, and some edits, while the artist is still performing. Finally, when you find a moment to rest, you notice something. A moment in the crowd followed by an itch in the back of your mind and you wish you had your camera in hand. You’ve completed your tasks for the day but you can’t resist picking up your camera one more time before the night ends.
After the final set ends, the crowd begins to drift back toward camp, but the work is far from over. The media team retreats to their dark cave where the garbage overflows with red bull cans and coffee cups. Heads wearily bob in front of glowing screens until a shout of excitement brings the room to attention. Everyone clambers over to investigate and stares in awe of THE SHOT. For a moment we all gather around in excitement, studying the frame. Here is the proof that all the running, waiting, and searching was worth it. With renewed energy, we return to our own edits, eager to discover the moments we’ve captured.
By sunrise the edits are exported and the festival slowly begins to wake. A few hours later we will be back out there doing it all over again. No matter how many shots I take there's always a feeling that the next corner, the next stage, or the next song might hold something I’ve never seen before. The backpack gets heavier, the batteries run out, and memory cards fill up but the possibility of finding that one frame keeps me thinking, “Just one more shot, then I’ll put it away.”
For most photographers, it isn't just a job, which makes it easy to connect. We're all chasing a frame that somehow captures what it felt like to be there. Festivals add another layer to that connection. We are all there to enjoy music and art while simultaneously creating our own. The musicians perform on stage, the lighting crew paints with lasers and smoke, and somewhere in the crowd a photographer is trying to preserve a moment before it disappears.
By the end of the weekend my pockets are full of dead batteries and my backpack feels twice as heavy. The only thing higher than my shutter count is my step count. I finally decide I'm done for the night, only to hear a crowd erupt in the distance. A minute later I'm jogging back across the festival grounds because the lasers are going off and I left my camera in the tent.