JB's 2 CENTS

Three years ago, armed with a new Nikon and a vague notion of becoming a photographer, I headed out to Daytona for the filming of BET’s first “Spring Bling.” Cameras were not allowed, so I was instructed to stay in the back of the filming area. Snoop was performing, and I could barely see him on stage through my small lens. During a break, I approached a photographer near the stage and asked how he got a pass. He was with the Orlando Sentinel. “Hey! We shot the last Orlando Magic game together. Remember me?” he asked. I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. “That’s the guy you need to talk to,” he told me, pointing, “That’s Rob.” I told Rob I was trying to get a job at a magazine and I needed pictures for my portfolio. He didn’t say much, just, “Follow me.” Soon, I was backstage with free reign. Snoop stepped off stage and was greeted by the Mayor of Daytona. Nelly walked past, gold tooth gleaming, and stopped to pose for a few shots. Missy Elliot walked by. Genuine was standing next to me, sucking on a lollipop and talking to AJ from 106th & Park. Then, there was free food and drinks all day. It was great - I was hooked.

A year later, I had a legitimate reason to cover Spring Bling. I sent copies of my magazine to Rob faithfully every month, and when Daytona rolled around, I emailed him asking for a pass. For most of the weekend, it was just me and a handful of other photographers in the “pit,” the small area separating the crowd from the stage. We had (very literally) up-close and personal access. Ashanti waited nervously backstage with her mother before her performance. Treach gave me a hug. I walked back to the dressing room area with Irv Gotti, who frequently pumped his fist enthusiastically, shouting “I love my job!” to no one in particular.

Now, Rob is “no longer with the company,” and BET Spring Bling is no longer fun. It’s regulated, controlled, and boring. It’s not even filmed at the beach anymore. It’s a lot more practical because traffic is not as heavy in this location, and I don’t have to fight through crowds of crazed, groping men (if you think I’m exaggerating, you have never been to BCR) to get there. But it’s just not like it used to be. The celebrity lineup of performers might be great for viewers, but for the past two years, the media treatment has been terrible. They’ve gotten too big. At large concerts or festivals, “media” or “VIP” sections are almost always a cruel joke. They trick you into thinking you’re getting something special, but it’s more like jury duty. You’re basically just being sequestered so they can control you. They’ll always blame it on security, but that’s bullshit. This year, after picking up my media credentials, my two (heavy) camera bags set the metal detector off. The security guard shrugged. “Go ahead.” Next, I was informed that I needed to go to the “media tent,” and if I was “caught” in any other area without a “BET escort,” my credential would be confiscated and I would be asked to leave (poor Gregory... hahaha). So it’s cool if I use my camera bag to smuggle in weapons, as long as I don’t sneak off to the restroom alone? Great “security.”

The media tent is not exactly a place you’d want to spend three days. It’s hot, there is no fan, no food (except a few bags of potato chips), and no drinks. Artists that visit the media area are dragged back and forth between TV interviews and radio drops. Then, a million “photographers” fight for position while the artist stands in front of a BET sign looking bored. Next to the “media tent” is the tease: the “green room” tent, complete with long leather couches, food and drinks, a large screen TV, and celebrities. We are conveniently close enough to see the “green room,” but expressly forbidden from entering.

I could go on forever at the risk of sounding like an ungrateful bitch, but overall, I still had fun, and who needs a media pass when artists email you their own pics (shouts to Lil Jon)? Shoutouts to all the good people at BET who tolerated my complaints. We’re all just doing our jobs, right? Next year, food and drinks would be nice. And remember, photographers are special.

Too claustrophobic for “media tents.” -
Julia Beverly, jb@ozonemag.com