The Square Life

The last thing I expected Bryan Niven to do was make me a sandwich during our interview.

But surprisingly, his sandwich turned out to be a lot like his artwork – a variation of something familiar, with a combination of illogical things that somehow fit together.

In this case, his project was a mishmash of white bread, avocado, sliced pickles, and Mrs. Dash Chipotle seasoning on a red plastic plate.

“Did you want me to cut yours in half?” he says with a laugh, but I think he could have been serious.

To look at Niven’s art, painstakingly polished and glittering, you would think anyone who can create such glamour would be working out of a Manhattan skyscraper, snapping his fingers while his assistants scurry to bring him lunch. But Niven looks just as happy here, in his two-bedroom Orem apartment, with all of his equipment just around the corner next to his bed.

Sure, there are Niven’s glossy photographs – the kind that would go on a Times Square billboard if they were bigger – on the wall, but there are also baby pictures and children’s toys scattered around. It’s an ideal studio – at least, it is for Niven.

For one thing, paying for a separate studio would be a waste of overhead expenses, Niven says. He keeps a tight budget, since most of his photo shoots cost less than $100 to complete.

Second, most of Niven’s shots are put together piece by piece – a shot of wallpaper here, a bowl there, a park somewhere else – then put together later in Photoshop. He doesn’t need a special room with a stool and a light box just for people to visit.

Third, Niven has a professional rule that if his work isn’t wholesome enough for his family to see, then it isn’t worth doing.

“The way I look at is, if I can’t show my [art] to my wife or my kids or my mom and be proud of it, then I shouldn’t be doing it anyway,” Niven says. “Who else are you going to show? That’s the fun of it - I’m like a big kid. I like to show people when I’m done and say do you like it?”

To that end, Niven recently turned down a $10,000 contract to shoot an ad for a wine company. The money would have been nice, but setting a precedent was better.

“I’m trying to make a good stand up front, so I don’t get stuck later,” he says. “I know I’ll have to pass up a lot of work, but my stuff’s not geared to that. There are so many options other than that, and there will always be someone who wants the other stuff.”

It wouldn’t take many people who want the ‘other’ stuff for Niven to make a living. On average, commercial photographers like Niven will shoot a handful of projects a year and make hundreds of thousands of dollars each time.

Right now, he’s waiting to hear back from Sony and Quizno’s, but after four months with a New York rep who promotes him all over the country, Niven says that’s pretty good.

Niven was discovered at a photo convention in Salt Lake City, when he commandeered an Apple booth and displayed his photos on the computer screens. The Apple representatives were so impressed they invited Niven to come to one of the company’s original stores in Manhattan and give a presentation on his photography finishing techniques.

From there, he’s been swept along, living the dream. He’s been living his dreams for awhile, as a sponsored skateboarder, a skateboard designer and a full-time artist.

“I’ve lived my dream so many times,” Niven said. “I’ve lived multiple dreams and accomplished them, so I consider myself lucky to have [had] that chance.”

The scabby gash down Niven’s left shin belies that he’s been lucky in other ways, too.

There was a time that the 28-year-old was a little more reckless, breaking bones and getting scrapes and bumps, but nothing compares to the time he tore open his spleen after a snowboarding jump went wrong. He almost died.

That was six months into his marriage. Then, about a year ago, Niven found out he had thyroid cancer. He had gone to a doctor complaining of a sore throat, but after a massive lump was removed from his neck, his wife told him the bad news.

The cancer has since gone into remission, but Niven doesn’t like to talk about the ordeal all that much.

“I don’t like the sob story,” Niven says. “I get really sick of it. … I went to the children’s cancer ward and I saw kids who probably won’t live past 10 years old and that was all it took for me to think, ‘I am a lucky boy.’ ”

In the next breath, Niven looks down at the cheese-flavored Pringles next to my sandwich and changes the subject by saying, “those are bright chips – the kind that people would think are fake in Photoshop.”

It takes me a moment to see the potential of my potato chips, but when I do, I can imagine them in one of Niven’s pictures. Somewhere small in a bizarre setting, seen only by examining the photograph up close, there would be a flash of orange. If the picture made its onlooker stop and stare, Niven would think of it as a success.

“Beautiful to me is what beautiful is to other people – landscapes and lakes,” Niven says. “Those [pictures] are beautiful to me, but they’re just snapshots. My stuff isn’t about beauty, it’s about creativity. … My passion is having people look at stuff and just go, ‘Oh my gosh, that’s the coolest picture I’ve ever seen.’ That’s what I want.”

SHOW & TELL
Bryan shares the stories behind some of his favorite pieces.

CANDY STORE
This has become one of my more “classic” shots, as it seems to speak to all different kinds of people. This was an early shot, where I realised I was begining to really pull experiences from my head, and create something everyone could look at and say, “oh, yeah, been there”.

TRESPASSING
This was also a fun shot showing a brother and sister doing what they know best how to do... argue. Something funny about this photo is that everyone always says they love what I did with their faces, and then I always have to tell them, that those are their real faces... no photoshop needed.

MUSIC SCHOOL
For those that have been in Utah County for the last while and took any of the American Fork exits, this picture should be familiar to you. These four kids spent about six months sitting on this couch smiling down at us as we drove by The Music School billboard. It was one of the first times a company embraced my vision.

RANCID DINNER
This shot was taken in downtown Provo last Winter. The hardest part about the shoot was keeping everyone warm, as it was 40 for a high that day! It was the first time I had ever purchased or cooked a lobster, and I didn’t even get to eat it, as it ended up sitting out all day.

EIGHTIES MAGIC
Eighties Magic was the most fun yet, by far. Hopefully this is a photo people will be able to relate to...especially for those that experienced even the tail end of that era. This photo is scheduled to appear in a full spread this January in The Black Book in New York.