Chasing the Summer Vibe: Portraits of Alfred in Miami
The sun beats down on the concrete deck with the kind of unforgiving intensity only Miami can muster in late August. There’s a distinct stillness to the morning air before the tropical humidity fully takes over, broken only by the rhythmic lapping of water against mosaic tile. We aren't here wrapped up in the constraints of heavy commercial production today. It’s just my friend and comedian Alfred Diaz, a vintage lens, and a mutual desire to capture the sheer, unfiltered joy of the season. He floats in the center of the deep end, arms outstretched like a buoyant deity, his legendary auburn beard catching the harsh glare of the Florida sun.
This began as a loosely styled project to document his recent weight loss, but doing anything with Alfred means standard conventions are instantly thrown out the window. Rather than a sterile fitness concept, we wanted to completely subvert the aesthetic. We’re aiming for an unapologetic summer vibe, something soaked in nostalgia, leisure, and absolute irreverence. The cool water wraps around him, refracting the bright overhead light into a thousand jagged diamonds across his shoulders as he leans back into the buoyancy.
Floating horizontally and lounging lazily inside a striped inflatable inner-tube, he projects the ultimate form of localized leisure. There’s a deliberate, distinct tint of humor in every frame—because how could there not be? He’s wearing wild swim trunks emblazoned with an inexplicably chaotic pattern of giant cats and pizza slices. As he kicks and splashes around the shallow end, the water distorts the bizarre fabric into a sort of moving modern art. Look closely at the material under the crashing waves; it's a ridiculous, beautiful collision of visual elements that immediately grounds the absurdity of the morning.
Shooting these vibrant images requires leaning entirely into his specific brand of comedy. We joke between setups about how these shots flip the usual visual tropes on their head. If this were a traditional piece of fitness advertising, we’d be rigidly focused on flexing and sweating through sports drinks. Instead, we’re focused on the undeniable freedom of living authentically in one’s own skin. The true essence of portrait lifestyle photography isn’t about posing; it’s about finding the honest, breathing undercurrent beneath the performance. These are fundamentally fun portraits, brimming with genuine, unpretentious energy and confidence.
Eventually, the midday heat drives us indoors to escape the relentless glare. We trade the shimmering aquamarine reflections of the pool for the polished wood, synthetic hum, and neon atmosphere of a local bowling alley. Out comes a vintage Miami Dolphins jacket—loud, unmistakable teal and orange—layered perfectly over a simple ribbed white tank top. It is an aesthetic deeply rooted in this city's cultural DNA. The gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses hook casually onto his neckline, holding tightly onto the ghost of the morning's brightness.
He stands at the top of the oily lane, gripping a cherry-red bowling ball with the faux-serious intensity of a professional athlete staring down a championship strike. Crafting colorful portraits in this kind of retro, artificially fluorescent environment is all about managing the clash of rich textures: the slick fiberglass of the lanes, the soft crinkling nylon of his windbreaker, the dense thicket of his hair. He commands the wide room effortlessly, filling the wide-angle frame with his raw presence.
We wander over to the arcade section, where the chaotic flashing of cabinet lights bathes his profile in hot pinks and electric blues. He slides into the bucket seat of a heavy arcade racing game, gripping the plastic steering wheel while aggressively shifting his weight through imaginary hairpin turns. The sheer, boisterous laughter that echoes over the synthesized 8-bit crashing sounds reminds me precisely why I wanted to photograph him in the first place. You don't try to rigidly direct Alfred; you just give him a playground and make sure you keep your finger ready on the shutter.
The shoot concludes in the most intimately absurd setting possible: leaning over a brightly lit bathroom vanity, eyes shut tightly in total ecstasy, as he dramatically blow-dries his hair. The hot air whips his long, damp locks into a majestic, chaotic halo that fills the mirror's reflection. It’s hilarious, cinematic, and triumphant all at once. Sometimes the best portraiture is simply holding a mirror up to the soul—especially when that soul is busy executing a flawless rockstar performance with a neon-orange hairdryer.