Cruising eastbound on 1-80, the evening traffic whirls past me as I follow my 2 moving targets in the fast lane. In the lead car, videographers Jayson Angove, De'von Whitaker, Jameson Randall, and more camera gear than I can ever quantify. In the second car, photographer Risa Knight, her boyfriend Andrew Fix, and one well-worn camera in its case. The tail lights in front of me dwindle away as we rumble from Sacramento, through Roseville, and into the foothills past Rocklin; all under the soft blue twilight, easing into the dark of this particular summer night.
Their objective? Old town Auburn. Their mission? Video and photos, galore.
This is the second time I have followed Jayson and his photo/video compatriots out into the night, and I am looking forward to seeing Auburn at night for the first time since before COVID reared its ugly head. The previous time was on a Friday night in downtown Sacramento, and if reputation still precedes it, Auburn should be a very different place at night.
Blasting down the curve past the one-light town of Newcastle, three lanes become two as the shoulder is loaded with a caravan of construction vehicles, condensing the tail lights into a sparkling, sluggish wall. Eventually, our spread out group gets off the freeway and into old town, parking at the base of the hill next to the old one-room firehouse and the gigantic stone goldpanner statue.
From behind this statue, a couple familiar figures emerge. One of which is Paul Bates, local videographer/musician who I ran around with in Sacramento last time. Joining him is dancer Kristen Rulifson, a friend and colleague of Paul's who was going to be the subject of video and photos tonight.
I take the view in a bit at the corner of Commercial Street, and get a strange split vision. On the left, the empty streets of old town, featuring the California Club's neon sign, the aforementioned firehouse, and the restaurant Crudo, complete with flickering lights behind the tall 'U'. On my right, is the on/off ramp back to 1-80, drowned under the psychosis-inducing drone of deisel engines, which is punctuated by the occasional bleat of a horn. Beyond that is the slowing trickle of freeway traffic, and looming behind the construction is the railway bridge. Right as it came into my view, a train arrives on said bridge, contributing to the cacophony filling these empty Auburn streets.
Back to the corner, all the camera operators are gathering and the gear has been spread out. Two-handed camera rigs, half a dozen lights, bags of lenses, tripods, and some stuff I wasn't able to figure out quite yet have emerged and are strewn about. There was one item that I was intrigued by, however, and Jameson was sitting on it. His camera bag was a wheeled set up, kind of like rolling luggage, but it came with a hard top at the base of the handle that served as a perfect seat.
According to Jameson, it was definitely a practical decision.
Jameson tells me about working on Dimension Fear, a paranormal investigation show on the Travel Channel, where he works the camera in all sorts of god awful situations. Every location is freezing cold or steaming hot, filled with pests, smothered in garbage, and full of crumbling paint/furniture everywhere. After marching through all that with a camera rig on your face, I would also want a seat available at a moments notice.
While Jameson and I rambled on, and the other cameramen set up their equipment, Risa and Kristen took off across the street to one of the many shopfronts that line the slope. They both get to work, Risa snapping photos with guided precision, while Kristen poses with unique flexibility and charisma only dancers can achieve.
Eventually, the camera crew works their way over to the same slope, setting up lighting and the like while Risa and Kristen continue to snap pictures. I soon notice a few regulars trickling (read: staggering) out of the California Club, so I head on over myself while everyone gets set up here. The beer list was good, so I sat down for one, and was soon joined by Andrew. After shout-talking to each other over our Lagunitas, we shuffle past the packed bar and back out into the night, just in time to see Jayson and Jameson marching up Lincoln Way. Enthusiastically pointing and talking as they march to the end of the street, I chalk it up to a scouting mission of some sort. Right as that thought leaves my head, Paul sidles up next to me and sets down a camera dolly. For those who don't want to Google it, it looks like twin rails set on the ground, then the camera goes on top and starts inching along as Paul observes.
I am definitely intrigued, but that's nothing compared to a man who walks out of the dark, with a hearty 'WHOA!' Igor, who tells me he drives trucks and loves taking pictures, engages me in a very lively conversation on the prices of cameras and the evolution of camera technology. I felt like I could keep up, but somewhere in there, Paul disappeared on me. Eventually, the whole heehaw gang emerged down the street to get shots in a doorway under different lighting, providing a gentle out for me.
Igor didn't seem to mind. Nice guy.
Once some shots were taken of Kristen in said doorway, the location that was scouted earlier became the next focus. Next to the darkened windows of The Annex on Lincoln Way is a little side park area, draped in hanging lights amongst the trees, and lined with plenty of exposed brick. I notice a small plaque next to one of the benches that reads “Herschel Young Park”, but soon I'm distracted by what everyone else is nerding out about. At the very end of the park, was a brick wall with an archway carved out, and eroding on the left side. The ivy that covered the wall reflected the lighting around it, but it was a welcome flash of green amidst all the earth tones of brick and wood.
Immediately, Jayson and Devon set up lights, Jameson and Paul start calibrating their cameras, Kristen takes up her spot in the archway, and Risa begins taking some test shots. Blue, purple, and other alternating lights pour through the arch as everybody takes up a camera and starts filming/shooting. Kristen posts up a few poses, but soon shows off her prowess with handstands amongst all the flashbulbs.
The colors soon go away, and the natural lower light becomes the focal point. Someone found a lightswitch that killed the harsher lights in the trees, and gave them the amber hues of the streetlights to play with. Risa's camera starts firing off faster, taking every opportunity to shoot Kristen, who begins dancing and shuffling in and out of the archway. From the dark, into the light, the cameras all are on her, displaying more of her practiced motion.
Excitement is overflowing as everyone starts looking at the shots they got, and it is infectious, that's for sure. I have to take my leave at this point, unfortunately, but I had so much fun following them around. It was yet another very special insight into the practice and development that goes into these folk's art. It was such an uplifting experience, I didn't even notice the screeching road noise and tasty fumes off the exit ramp. Once on the road, the journey is much less congested, thankfully. I always look forward to the drive home, because once you get past Newcastle, at the crest of a hill, the view is spectacular.
Even at midnight, the entire freeway is filled with sprinkling streams of headlights and taillights, stretching before you all the way to Sacramento. At this distance and height, the lights of the suburbs meld into the city, making it gleam like a beacon in space. Once it disappears from view, a familiar feeling of satisfaction settles in for my long drive back home.
All's well that ends well, and all that jazz.
