How Ernest Brooks II Touched My life
Yesterday the world became a darker, smaller place with the passing of Ernie Brooks II. He was a hero and inspiration that changed my life forever in the short time I spent with him. This year has already been a nightmare, and I am trying to process this while typing through tears. The only way I can think to honor him is to share how he inspired me.
I first met Ernie Brookes back in 1989 when I was a junior in High School. My advanced photography class took a field trip with a few students to tour the Brooks Institute in Santa Barbara. Hearing him speak to my class about the experiences of attending Brooks first hand inspired me to return a couple of years later as a student. Attending Brooks wasn't like any other art school; the goal was always about creating exceptional photographers over revenue. This was obvious by how hard it was to graduate with a degree from Brooks Institute of Photography. Unlike most Art Schools that are focused on a profit today, Brooks was easy to flunk out of. When I attended Brooks, a 'C' in any class was a failing grade that meant you had to retake the course. If you got two C's, game over, you didn't come back. I could go through an entire article on how ethical the approach to higher education was, but that is just the beginning. His love and dedication to photography while creating generations of exceptional artisans is only a part of his legacy.
Ernest Brooks's passion was undersea photography. My highlight of Brooks was completing the Undersea program. It required living on the research vessel 'Just Love' while making diving trips to the Chanel Islands for the first trimester*, and for the second trimester, we did an expedition to Monterey. During that time, my days consisted of 3-4 dives a day while having some of the most memorable experiences of my life. From free diving with whales in the middle of the ocean to photographing Sea Lions off Anacapa Island as they played like puppies with my camera gear. Diving with Ernest Brooks II was a memory I will always treasure. He was constantly in awe of the sea. Emerging from every dive, even when the conditions had been crappy and visibility low, he would have the wonder of a young child in his eyes.
It would be a disservice to write about Ernie Brooks without sharing what an incredible photographer he was. During the trip to the expedition to Monterey, I was experimenting with infrared film underwater. This film was challenging in numerous ways that made shooting complex. The infrared light waves drop off as you descend below a certain depth, and it required an almost opaque red filter over the lens. Before one dive, Ernie asked if he could use my camera and give it a try. With one roll of film on a single dive, he created more incredible images than I did in the entire semester. That is why his work has been featured at the Smithsonian Institute, displayed in galleries worldwide, and published in his book Silver Seas. Ernie was the GOAT (greatest of all time) of undersea photography.
His love of the ocean galvanized my passion for nature and preservation. Just a few weeks ago, my youngest son asked, "Daddy, why do you always cut the plastic circles from the six-pack holder from my Gatorade?" I shared how when I was diving with Ernie; we saw a Sea Lion that had plastic wrapped around his neck as a pup that had cut his neck as he grew; it was brutally painful and would eventually kill the sea lion. My sons even understand how balloons and other plastic make it from sewers to streams and eventually the ocean, so after another kid's birthday party in a park, we will make sure the popped balloons end up in the trash instead of a whale's stomach. Two decades later, Ernie is still touching young lives and inspiring them to take better care of Mother Earth through those of us lucky enough to have heard his stories first hand.
2020 has been a brutal year. It started with the loss of another hero of mine in a helicopter crash. As much as that hurt, this pain is 10,000x worse because Ernie Brooks personally touched my life in a way that helped shape the man I am today. To be honest, every few years, I would Google him to see if he had passed without my knowledge. Ernie was old when I dove with him in 1995. He would joke with Captain Mike about how even when he couldn't make it up the ladder out of the sea, how they would build a crane to lower him in and out of the ocean so he could dive until the end.
Over the years, I often returned to Santa Barbara and always made the trip out to see Just Love in the harbor to look at the deck I spent so many nights sleeping under the stars out at sea. Each trip visiting the Montecito campus by driving through the gates at 801 Alston Road before winding my way to the Jefferson Campus to take a nostalgic walk through the studios remembering projects like the mirrored cube on black glass. After awards walking upstairs to look at the current student's work on display. That tradition sadly ended a few years ago when the school changed hands.
Times have changed so much since my days at Brooks. What we would spend days trying to create in the darkroom with dodging, burning, and retouching to make a single finished print can be now be done instantly with filters on smartphones without any understanding of the process. I am grateful to have been one of the generations that shot on film that we processed ourselves. To have been had the old school skills passed down from true masters. When photography first stole my heart, it wasn't capturing images on film that made me fall in love; it was the enchantment of watching a piece of paper magically reveal a photograph as it slowly appeared in the developer.
How much did time with Ernie Brooks II impact me? In my will, when I die, my ashes are going to be spread in the channel off Santa Barbara, if possible from the boat Just love. That has been my wish since I graduated from Brooks Institute and left SB over 25 years ago. I can't remember who said, "the time we spend on Just Love is not deducted from our lives." It might have been Ralph Clevenger or Captain Mike, but I had hoped somehow that Ernie had spent enough time on that boat to live forever. RIP Enrie, I love you.
*Brooks Institute operated on trimesters vs. semesters. We didn't get summer break and went year-round, completing a Bachelor of Arts in 3 years instead of 4.
