A 1,000 Words...

Picture this (and I use that term very loosely).

Mike Schreiber -- with his first visit to and exhibit in the A-Town -- makes major use of Hagedorn Foundation Gallery’s second floor multi-walled whitespace to create a remarkable “anthropological mixtape” of his own.

Known amongst peers as the “gritty black and white guy,” Schreiber photographs strictly in analogue -- a series of clean yet raw and gritty black and white portraits composed of digital C and silica gelatin prints. His philosophy: “If you’re an artist, you’re safe in my hands.” C-Murder’s dogs and tattoos, B.G. under a cloud of smoke, Juelz Santana in front of a Keith Haring mural, Voletta Wallace with a photo of a young Biggie, Jim Jones, Dwele on a subway, David Banner mean muggin’, M.I.A. postin’ up on a master blaster (one of my favorite shots), Jeezy lookin’ as if he’s ‘bout to slap somebody, Lil' Wayne during his Hot Boys days in down jacket, a silhouette of Erykah Badu, the late Pimp C., Nas, a close-up of the late Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Biz Markie with some dogtags, Eminem (in color) not being able to keep a straight face, Jermaine Dupri, Raekwon the Chef behind a door, M.I.A. again with her Mother Teresa swag (and in a series of poses with uncropped frames) and a captivating headshot of Mos Def – Schreiber’s first portrait ever -- with a hoodie on are among a few of the cameo appearances.

This particular Sat., Jul. 9, 2011, Schreiber is engaging in a nice roundtable discourse with hip hop scholar Dr. Joycelyn Wilson, visual artist Fahamu Pecou and Creative Loafing music editor Rodney Carmichael: discussing everything from their first memories of hip hop and regional hip hop culture to political consciousness. Now Schreiber’s no hip hop expert or historian, but he knows he's contributed something significant to the culture -- something he says is the most important cultural thing that's happened to the world in the past 30 years. "You can't overlook it, and photography documents it," he says. "Kids in Japan know what Nas is wearing because of pictures, and they're emulating it. It's a magical thing where you can stop time. It's the only thing you can do that with. Even with the moving image, it's still moving."

A first impression of Schreiber may throw some folks for a curve ball; he’s a comedian with quite a sarcastic aura about him. The day following his exhibit opening, I got a whiff of his dry sense of humor in the exact same brown leather seats as the panel. Some might think his low stabs are shallow and arrogant (even I was kinda confused), but it's genuine. He doesn't consider himself a hip hop artist or a hip hop photographer. If you ask him, he'll tell you he's a documentary photographer lucky enough to shoot portraits of hip hop. He’s doesn’t create a grand production or use any lighting. He just takes pictures and connects with people plain and simple – minus shenanigans, egos and a negative attitude. "I've never been in the industry, and I'm not big on networking. We are all just people. Some are more well-known than others. At the end of the day, we all have the same bodily functions: same needs and wants. We were all born the same way. Culture is culture. Hip hop invented its own language, which is spread throughout the world. I like to get down to the humanity of people."

Armed with his choice weapons – the Contax 645; Leica R5 or the Pentax K-1000 – and Sebastiao Salgado as his muse, Schreiber’s shots are now an interesting bind, True Hip Hop, in which he graciously consolidates his visual works into great stories with a few insights inside of his subjects and his craftsmanship. Since he came onto the scene in 1998, his images have been featured in Rolling Stone, XXL, Esquire, The Source, Vibe, Spin, Slam, ARISE, TRACE and New York Magazine. Though he’s shot rappers; producers and such, Schreiber believes hip hop is not just about music. "It's an opportunity. You don't have to have talent. Just be true to yourself and what you're doing, and you can be successful. I just try to stay true to what's in front of me."

The Long Island, NY native -- who grew up in a Jewish and Italian community -- was always inquisitive. The University of Connecticut alumnus, who majored in anthropology, is a self-taught photographer: making up fake assignments just to go to hip hop shows and to be on the scene. Set on creating his own destiny so that he wouldn't have to work a regular nine-to-five gig, he still put his studies to extraordinary use. "It showed me how to look at things critically: to go past the surface because there's so much going on other than whatever single is out or what somebody is wearing, which is what most people tend to focus on because that's what brings in the money. Some people like things that are familiar to them; I like things that aren't familiar to me. It was always fascinating."

Sure, it's no secret that the egos and griminess are both a part of hip hop. It's a tough business! Just don’t count on Schreiber to carry a grudge or to hold any hard feelings. Before he was able to capture the essence of kids in Cuba; The Dog Park or prisoners in Angola, LA, there was a lot of apprehension from editors and art directors to give him a shot. He was persistent and maintained his thick skin: calling multiple times daily and even just showing up on his beat with his camera. He has his own nonconventional style and method to his madness -- black and white shots uncropped (you can even see the ridges around his prints in the frames). During one particular shoot with the Jungle Brothers during the Great Day in Hip Hop in Harlem, he managed to get a candid shot of Lauryn Hill inside of her car. She never got out, but Schreiber was the only one to get the shot of her rolling down the window. From that point forward, he started to get assignments from various publications.

Never one to get discouraged, Schreiber knows his niche quite well. He says he's never really had a bad experience in relation to people giving him acclaim for his work. "You can't get every job. My style isn't conducive to shooting everybody. People always like my work even if they don't like me. I definitely thought I could do things better than other people. That's an important thing people coming up need to understand. Sometimes, your style is not right for that artist -- maybe they're not feeling it or whatever reason."

Schreiber has come full circle; in some cases, it's deja vu. He remembers his junior high school years when he used to draw pictures of Mick Jagger and other musicians in Rolling Stone. During a recent visit to his Tumblr page, he found that someone had drawn one of his M.I.A. photographs. It still comes as a shock to Schreiber (i.e. his book, his first exhibit in Atlanta and doing a candid interview with me surrounded by all of his photographs), but he's taking it one day at a time.

"You have to just do it. You can't wait for somebody else to give you permission or ask you to do it. There are lots of great photographers in New York, but I knew to make the most of the experience. There's been a lot of great people who has shot hip hop over the years in very interesting ways. There are different kinds of artists, but there are different types of photographers. The goal is to do something iconic. I love the hustle. I wanted to go to shows. All of this stuff is just extra. Even to this day, it's hard to get a phone call returned. That's just what it is. If I took it personal, I wouldn't survive. It would be very egotistical of me to say I gotta shoot everything. It just doesn't work like that. That's the other cool thing about it -- in 20 or 30 years from now, it will really be in focus."

* Photo Credits: Gundun Stone and John Ramspott