The Kaleidoscopic Vision of Photographer Brian Nice

This is the story about Brian Nice, a phoenix who refuses to let what most would consider a severe disability impede his indefatigable spirit. A documentary about Brian’s life and art, entitled 45 Degrees by filmmaker Julia Barrett Mitchell, recently screened at the Woodstock Film Festival and is available on Hudsy.tv. The film reveals the complexity of a life lived fully against all odds. Nice is a true inspiration, always responding to challenges with grace and great humor. In the film, Nice says, “I don’t think of myself as being disabled; I just think of it as a blessing in disguise to see things differently.”

Hudsy.tv describes Nice this way “With the patience of a Buddhist monk and the humor of a teenage boy, Brian’s unwavering will to create art cannot be stopped; not even by a brain injury.”

Indeed.

Once a successful fashion photographer and a globe trotter, Nice continues to capture beauty in his unique way despite limitations and the doctors who claimed he would never move again. Now, the beauty he celebrates is more authentic: nature and intimate human moments in his rural world in the Hudson Valley. “I’ve done so much in my life–this is just another challenge, that’s all,” Brian explains. With resilience, creativity and determination, he is fueled ever forward, and he continues to create prolifically.

His positivity and resourcefulness have rendered him an endearing hero who sees art as his gateway to healing and purpose despite the losses. As writer Jenny Wonderling states in the trailer of the film and Nice’s journey, “This is an important reminder of the true healing alchemy of art, humor and true support.”

Nice has adapted a new photographic style so that it reflects his unique way of seeing. “One eye is parallel and the other sees at 45 Degrees,” he explained. “I thought, ‘Wow, this is cool.’ I found a way to duplicate it without using photoshop. I take double exposures in the camera, one horizontal and one at 45 degrees.”

INSIDE+OUT’s writer Michael Cobb caught up with Brian by phone from his home in Garrison, New York, to hear his incredible life journey, all told with a remarkable sense of humor and optimism.

INSIDE+OUT: Can you tell me about your upbringing?

Brian Nice: My mom was a model in the 1950s, and my dad was a painter. We lived in New York. My father grew up in the world of pop art. My mom quit modeling to become a teacher. So, I grew up in an artistic environment. There were always artists around the studio. It was definitely a bohemian lifestyle. 

We lived in SOHO before it was trendy. It was scary; you couldn’t go out at night. The movie After Hours gives you a taste of what it was like. It was a big adventure. 

Can you tell me about traveling with your family as a kid? 

We took a boat to England, lived there, then France, Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Iran, India, New Guinea, Australia, New Zealand, and then back home to New York. 

What inspired these global travels?

My dad had his work in Australia. They were going to tax any of his paintings brought there from the USA. So he thought, I’ll live and work in the country so they won’t have to tax me. We came home a few years later. This was back in the 70s. I was eleven or twelve. My sister was six or seven. It was wild. We went to Hong Kong before it became part of China. 

I went there with my family in the 1970s, then went back in the 80s when I was first married. I knew Australia well because my grandfather would mine for opals, sell them in Hong Kong, and buy land in Australia. He invented Elmer’s Glue but never saw the royalties. 

All of that is probably why I became the way I am, following my dreams. I remember being in Australia thinking I’d love to live in Europe, which I did later for three years. It was great to go from Australia to France and see different cultures. 

Where did you go to college? 

Up in Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT). I got a Bachelor of Fine Arts and a degree in science, focusing on psychology. I married two women. The first time, I was too young; the second time, we just grew apart. 

As a photographer who made his mark in the 80s and continued to work into the 2000s, you saw great changes in camera technology. And your hemorrhage has affected your vision. Can you talk about that? 

I’ve held on to my film cameras. They’re back in fashion now. But all of my fine arts stuff is film. I don’t use Photoshop at all. I shoot film and then scan it and then print from the scans. I like doing the processing aspect within the camera, i.e., double or even triple exposure. That’s all I know. The way I see things is so far out that it looks like a kaleidoscope or a Picasso cubist painting. It’s really fragmented. I have to close my eyes a lot to give my brain a break. 

If I open up both eyes, my left eye goes down 45 degrees, and they both move erratically right now. So, I have to shut my eyes to rest. By the end of the day, I’m fried. I’ve only used one eye for 30 years. I automatically shut one eye. It’s almost like photography prepared me for what I’m going through now. Working as a photographer taught me patience. 

When I was in a coma, I could feel everything. It was like being dropped in your own body, so I had to learn to be patient. Running also got me trained for that. I was a National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) runner. My specialty was the half-mile or 100-meter run. I also ran across the USA and was in the Guiness Book World of Records in 1979. I was 18 and a freshman in college. 

You began working as a photographer’s assistant in New York City right out of college. What was that like? 

I was on the road most of that time. I worked for a world-renowned fashion guy, Mike Reinhartt, and we went all around the world during the 80s. 

About a trip to Italy, you’re quoted as saying, “Never bring cocaine on a plane!” What is the story behind that? 

That didn’t happen to me. But we’d been partying in Paris. A friend took a bag of cocaine and got on the plane with it. When he got to Italy, he got busted, and we couldn’t find him for two weeks. They considered him to be trafficking. He got a good lawyer, and everything worked out, but he was never allowed in Italy again. It was a close call. 

I imagine that was a big part of the scene in the 80s, no?  

Yeah, everyone was doing it. It was crazy. Same as the music scene. I ran into Mick Jagger all the time. Music and fashion photography would overlap each other. He’d look at me like we were pals. 

When you worked for Vogue, you had a glamorous career with great financial success, including a custom-built house in the Hamptons. How did you achieve that level of success and what advice would you give to younger photographers today? 

Back then, in the 80s, you had to go away and produce a large body of work. I’d go to Australia because I had a lot of work there. I shot on the beach and went to Europe with that book. The beach and blue skies were so different from what they’d seen. I worked a lot on and under the water. It’s so different now. I don’t know what advice I’d give except to explore, broaden your horizons, and see different cultures. 

What kind of compromises did you have to make along the way?

Relationships were hard to have, being on the road all the time. That’s tough. But it was an adventure every month. You didn’t know what was around the corner. I liked living like that, not knowing what was coming up next. Living on the edge and not knowing was very exciting. 

Your condition affected your mobility, some of which you’ve regained. You attribute healing to years of being a long-distance runner. Have there been unexpected gifts during this challenging experience? 

I consider what happened to me a blessing in disguise because, on the creative level, I’d never think of recreating this. The way I see it is so far out. It’s like a gift in a way. It sucks for my social life, but the way I see it is so cool. It was a slow bleed. My whole head was filled with blood. Luckily, that happened on a job in New York City. If that was in Mexico or the Bahamas, I would’ve been done. I barely made it to the hospital. 

Did they attribute it to anything in particular? 

I’m sure my lifestyle of drinking, partying, and flying every week didn’t help. My body gave out. The fashion world is a young man’s game. 

I know that changed the way you live and the way you shoot. Can you talk about that? 

My work was all about dealing with people and traveling. I can’t do that anymore. So, I hang out in my garden, down by the river, and photograph what’s around me, landscapes and flowers. Actually, it’s pretty cool. I’m basically a captive observer. I stay in one place and am forced to observe what’s around me. I’ve slowed down instead of running around like a maniac. Now I just sit in one place. It’s made me appreciate things we’d normally overlook. 

There’s poetry that comes through your work now and a deep connection to nature. Did you always consider those things important to you? 

I’ve always had a connection to nature because my family has always been involved in environmental protection. This has just made me appreciate nature more because I sit there and take it all in. 

Are there things that you didn’t notice before?

Sure. Normally, you walk or run past things, but I can’t walk or run. And so, yeah, you just observe things more. I hear things more and pay more attention to light. 

Is your printed work close to what you see?

There’s no way to reproduce it exactly, but it’s pretty close. I guess if you look through a kaleidoscope, you’d get a feel for what I see. It’s always changing. It used to be really far out, but now, if you close one eye, it starts to get normal. But it’s still a moving image. 

Can you tell me about working with Julia Mitchell on 45 Degrees? 

I’ve been involved in fashion and photography for 30 years. Every once in a while, you come across someone who’s gifted and talented. She is that, for sure. That’s why I wanted to pursue working with her. She’s got the whole package. She’s a true artist. 

In Julia’s press release, she says, “Brian’s outlook on life is optimistic, humorous, and he possesses an almost zen-like acceptance of his state of being.” Where do you draw inner strength in the face of big life challenges? 

Well, you’ve got to have a sense of humor. You’ve got to laugh. It’s totally depressing otherwise. It can be crazy trying to feed yourself, and food goes everywhere. It’s kind of funny. The way I am, you have to be as Zen as you can because I take everything in. If I go in a crowd of people like in Times Square, it’d be sensory overload for me. I’d get nauseous, and it’d put me into a seizure. The most ideal thing is to be at the beach where there’s not too much stimulus. 

I’ve got a joke for you. The Dalai Lama went to Times Square and saw a hotdog cart. He saw the yellow and red color of the hotdogs, looked around at Times Square, and said to the vendor, “Make me one with everything.” 

When I worked with models, I never looked through the camera. I’d look to the side, tell a joke like that, and then click. That was the shot; that’s how I’d work. Those are the most natural pictures. So I continue like that. 

That’s interesting. It’s usually a challenge getting subjects to relax. What else would you like people to know about you and your work? 

Oh, I don’t really care. As they say, art is in the eye of the beholder. It’s true. If you get pleasure out of it, that’s cool. If you can get pleasure from a kid’s drawing, that’s art, and that’s cool. I never criticize. If people love something, they love it. 

Do you have your work archived? 

I used to shoot with a 35mm Leica and always shot black and white film. I’ve got it all in a box for my daughter. If she wants it, it’s there. My dad said, “You can’t hide a good image. Someone will find it.” 

Do you have any desire to exhibit? 

Not really. It’s exhausting. But if someone wants something and can pay the cost, they can have it. 

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Story written by Michael Cobb and Jenny Wonderling
Photos Courtesy of Brian Nice. All photos of Brian are from prior to his injury.

Follow Brian Nice via Website 

To see the full 45 Degrees documentary, go to: Hudsy.tv