Darius Vick: Denim & Chrome

here are two types of people in this world: those that do and those that, well, you know the rest. Independent photographer Darius Vick is one that through trial and error, found himself behind the lens of a camera, decided to stay permanently and make a livelihood from it. During an early Saturday morning, Vick and I met on Lewis Ave. in Bed-Stuy at coffee and cake shop Bread Stuy to discuss how he’s successfully positioned himself during the freshman stages of his career to find a segment of culture that no one has touched and document it for the world to see.

The youngest of seven siblings, Vick entered the world of photography with a naivety that was abruptly stalled with a dose of reality when he looked at his own images after helping his cousin shoot a wedding. After realizing photography was something he wanted to pursue further than any other investment he’d made, he started on the road to honing this craft. “I took a two-week photography course and the rest was just really me teaching myself. I started getting gigs doing head shots and look books for small fashion lines. I quit my full-time job two years ago to pursue photography full-time.”

Everything happens for a reason, and although Vick had quit his occupation at a PR firm, he couldn’t have worked for a better company because it would be those contacts that would land him campaigns during his initial push into the business. “I’m pretty lucky in that I was already a part of a branding company and they have a large network of people in music, fashion, video etc. So I was pounding the streets and I had my network telling people ‘You need to work with Darius.’” He continues, “As a photographer, you can never have enough people saying, ‘He’s a photographer, call him.’”

Vick’s positive progression would come after a (non-paid), look book he shot for a small brand. An avalanche of prospects followed. Vick does not take his success for granted, “I realize how lucky I am to have come so far in such a short period of time. I hear stories of people saying they’ve been studying photography for four to six years and can’t even get hired taking a photo of themselves, so I’m extremely lucky.” With his rapid and rampant success, it may surprise you to hear what his blueprint is. When asked how many hours a day he spends behind a camera, Vick took it a step further breaking down the entire formula. “Photography is 95% marketing and 5% photography because the reality is if no one knows you’re a photographer, no one is going to hire you.” He adds, “So the days I’m not shooting, I spend 10 to 12 hours networking on the computer, at events, workshops, on Facebook, Twitter, etc.”

With all that said, Vick’s greatest achievement is the fact that he located a pocket in motorcycle culture that has yet to be captured, analyzed, and portrayed in a light that juxtaposes bikes and masculinity. “If you think you’re going to be the next David LaChapelle or whomever, it’s not going to happen. I found out early that you have to create something that’s not there and hope that people gravitate toward it. I’ve learned I have to create my own opportunities and that’s what I’ve done with this project.”

I want to make history 50 to 100 years from now.

The project Vick is referring to is his coffee table Denim & Chrome book, which will highlight urban motorcycling and the style and culture behind it. Vick, who’s been a rider as long as he’s been a photographer, figured it was time to mesh the two. “It was natural that I put a spotlight on these guys. The response has been so overwhelming that people want to see more and more.” Aside from the fact that motorcycles were and still are a hobby, Vick points out that he also wanted to dispel certain stereotypes that usually get connected to men and motorcycle clubs. “I wanted to put a spotlight on these guys because I wanted to demystify what people think of when they think of a rider and a biker. People think traditional, Harley (Davidson), old, crazy leather outfits, cruisers, big wheels, etc.”

Along with redefining the image of the biker and rider, Vick wanted to prove that biking wasn’t what these enthusiasts did every day, all day. “I think the perception is the guys that ride bikes don’t have jobs and they get the money however they get it. The reality is they need to put gas in these bikes, they need to maintain these bikes, so they need income.” He adds, “They are professionals across the board, sanitation workers, photographers, office clerks, and entrepreneurs.”

From a historical context, the motorcycle club started during World War II, as Vick states, “Officers in the military that were black rode motorcycles when they got home from the military; it was a way for them to keep the community going. They started clubs and often wore their military uniforms while they were riding the bikes so it was an extension of what they were already doing; they just incorporated it into their civilian wear.”

With 10,000 images edited down to 150, Vick has been vigorously working on the layout of this book, making sure everything is not only visually stimulating but publishing an accurate account of a sect, always seen, but potentially misunderstood. “I want to make history 50 to 100 years from now. When a kid has to do a project on black bikers I would like my work to be sourced. I want people to see the beauty in what we do.”