How to start? For the past five years, my life has been indulged in a music scene that would become a family. The warmth, respect, and compassion that everyone had for each other lead to the music, which eventually would bleed over into the individual relationships of the musicians and myself.
Beginning of the night in a dark, dingy bar, waitresses swiftly squeezing through the sea of instruments and their musicians. The big empty, but as soon as you feel the darkness taking hold, loss in a sea of crowds, a warm voice comes over the mic, introducing the band and welcoming you to a night of American music. Gilbert Castellanos, trumpeter, musician, friend, and mentor of many, I have had the pleasure of gaining his trust over the year and to allow my camera and I to be part of the night’s band. Have you ever sat in front of a jazz band, trumpet directly in front of you while he hits every note with passion and his own blood, sweat, and tears? The horn is a magical instrument, and it caught my ear from the beginning. Gilbert’s dedication to the trumpet had me thinking, of my own commitment to the camera. To know the camera inside and out, to think through the process. I owe a lot to Gilbert, for all the opportunities he has presented me, but the one thing I cherish the most, our friendship without the camera or music. My time in jazz has taken a hiatus, but my heart is still there, beating with every note, bleeding with every song.