Category Blog

The Funny Farm: Fighting for What Matters

Stories are everywhere—real, human stories about people fighting to find a home, keep one, live their lives, and take care of their families.

I love working with clients who make a real difference. Few organizations have helped change lives the way Pine Tree Legal Assistance (PTLA) has. Founded by Seward “Pat” Brewster in 1966, their nonprofit lawyers—working out of six offices across Maine—provide legal advice and represent low-income Mainers. They work with vulnerable populations, renters, Maine tribes, migrant workers, and many others who need a voice.

Each one of PTLA’s clients have stories.

I’m fortunate to be sharing the story of the Funny Farm—a ragtag group of individuals—including addicts, a former convict and an aging Merry Prankster. They’ve built a family by choice, creating a life together in a threadbare collection of buildings on a rural property in Lowell, Maine. Their story is powerful, as profound as the impact that Pine Tree Legal Assistance has had on their sober living community. If you ask the PTLA lawyers, they’ll shrug and say, “It’s what we do”. To the people who get to keep their homes, it’s everything.

I’m honored to tell this story and highlight the important work PTLA is doing in Maine.

 

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Coal Miners, Coding and Coffee in the Age of AI

Blue Collar Worker
Hardhat and ladybug © Brian Fitzgerald

I met with the marketing director of a non-profit for coffee this week to discuss a pending project. Face-to-face meetings like this rarer now, even more than a year after the WHO pronounced the Covid-19 Pandemic officially over. He mentioned he’s noticed that the way people interact has changed—not always for the better.

Aspects of his job, like mine, can’t be done remotely and must be done in person. Eventually we talked about AI tools. When he started—in the mid 2010s—he was told how critical Excel skills were, yet much of that can be easily done with AI. “Remember when they talked about retraining coal miners to code? Now ChatGPT 4.0 can code better than most coders,” he said.

That gave me pause. In my photography and video world, AI has made retouching and editing easier. For planning and pre-production, it’s an indispensable tool. But I don’t worry about it replacing what I do. While AI can create credible portraits of non-existent humans, it can’t replace the process of connecting with a person on a human level. With AI there’s no exchanging of stories. AI is all about results, not the journey.

Storytelling and moment-driven portraits are the outcome of an in-person process. Visual storytelling is about the dance between the camera, photographer, and subject. An AI prompt requires you to know exactly what you want, but a good portrait or documentary requires sensitivity, a willingness to listen, and the ability to ask questions you don’t yet know the answers to.

AI is a tool, not the main event. Connecting over coffee, walking in nature, or capturing a true moment—that’s the good stuff. I’m not willing to trade that experience for expediency. The antidote to AI efficiency is to do what it can’t—be more real, more authentic, more connected, and more human.

 

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The Messy Art of Connection

Photo studio
Before the storm © Brian Fitzgerald

 

Yesterday afternoon, I found myself randomly picking up photographic gear—a power cord here, a light meter there, a reflector, stowing a canvas backdrop—and I realized I was way too tired to finish.

I’d spent the last three hours photographing and interviewing a man I barely knew, diving into one of the most traumatic events of his life: his diagnosis and treatment for kidney cancer. It left him with a body carved by deep scars and other, less visible wounds. Every detail of his experience so firmly etched into his mind that he’ll never forget them—down to the type and order of food he had each time he was in the hospital. “It kind of feels like PTSD,” he said, with what could have been a smile—or maybe a wince. “That’s exactly what it is,” I replied.

Later as I packed up my gear, my studio looked like a camera shop after a direct hit by a tornado. I reflected on how fortunate I am each time I’m allowed, with my microphone and lens, into someone’s most private inner world. It’s a trust that’s both shocking and deeply humbling. Once you hear someone’s story, you become the keeper of a sacred trust. It’s now part of your story, and what you choose to do with it matters. When you connect with someone in this way, you’re left a bit raw and exposed. It’s messy, just like the chaos of my studio, filled with reminders of the session that just was. When you connect in this way—exchanging stories of truth—you’re both fully involved in creating a new story, a new understanding. I’m grateful to be connected in this way, both through the camera and in spite of it. What emerges, whatever else, is a truth.

This discipline, this art, this field is unlike any other. That’s why I still do it, day after day, decades after buying my first camera–a Pentax K1000, at K-Mart. The tools change, but the parts that matter still matter. 

Understanding Photographer and Videographer Rates

Industrial workers
© Brian Fitzgerald

When hiring a photographer or videographer, rates can be confusing. Some photographers don’t provide day rates, while videographers often do. Sometimes you might encounter work-for-hire contracts; other times, you hire someone to create a defined product, such as a 1-2 minute video business profile, priced by the deliverable rather than the time it takes.

To clear up the confusion, here’s a breakdown of some key terms that can help you navigate the hiring process more effectively next time you have a visual project.

Work For Hire (Paying To Own)

What It Is: In a Work For Hire (WFH) arrangement, the client owns the full rights to the visuals from the moment they are created. This is typical when the work is performed by an employee of the company but can apply to independent contractors.

Why It’s Important: The creator relinquishes all ownership and cannot use the work for their portfolio or other purposes without permission. This is crucial for clients who need complete control and ownership of the content, particularly when proprietary or trademarked processes and products are shown. Note that specific legal definitions determine what constitutes WFH, and a contract specifying WFH may not be legally binding if those conditions aren’t met.

Project Rates (Paying For Value)

What It Is: Project rates are a fixed fee agreed upon for the entire scope of work, typically covering pre-production, production, and post-production phases. This is often my preferred pricing method because the focus is on results, not time.

Why It’s Important: This approach ensures a well-defined project scope and clear expectations for both parties. It often leads to more thorough planning and better final results, as the photographer or videographer can focus on specific deliverables. Project rates focus the creative professional on creating the best outcome rather than counting minutes or hours. An experienced photographer may produce the same amount of work as a less-experienced one but in less time. Using a project rate, pricing is based on the end product and rewards the experienced photographer for their efficiency. For my clients, efficiency and minimal disruption to their operations is invaluable.

Product Pricing (Paying For Specific Deliverables)

What It Is: Product pricing refers to a model where the cost is based on the final deliverables rather than the time spent creating them. Examples include a formal business headshot or a 90-second explainer video for a local business.

Why It’s Important: This pricing structure is straightforward and focuses on the value of the end product. Clients pay for the specific images or videos they receive, making it easier to budget and justify.

Day Rates (Paying For Time)

What It Is: Day rates are fees charged by the day (typically 8, 10, or 12 hours), covering the professional’s time on a daily basis regardless of the setups, sessions, or work performed.

Why It’s Important: Day rates might make sense if you value flexibility and budget predictablity, but they encourage scope creep, which can lead to quantity over quality and time over efficiency.

There’s no single “right” way to structure rates. Each type has its advantages and disadvantages. Knowing the difference between them will help you budget and ensure a smooth, successful project. Your visual professional should also be able to explain these terms and why they recommend a particular rate structure so you can make the best possible decision for you and your project.

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Want to discuss an upcoming visual project or want help telling your visual story?  Let us know!

Lessons from the Trail: Iceland’s Laugavegur Trail

Laugavegur Trail Iceland
Overlooking Aftlavtn Lake, Laugavegur Trail, Iceland. © Brian Fitzgerald

This week, I returned from hiking the Laugavegur Trail in Iceland. The 34-mile (55 km) trail winds from Landmannalaugar through the Fjallabak Nature Preserve to Thorsmork (Þórsmörk).

The landscape is otherworldly: high-altitude snowfields, boiling geothermal vents, emerald-green mossy slopes, and a miles-long highland desert coated in black ash and volcanic rock. After two years of planning with my friends—two from Washington State, one from Southern Maine—I thought I knew what to expect.

Yet, Iceland blew my mind. The trail was more demanding than I’d imagined, and the scenery more beautiful and extreme. I took a single camera and lens to document the journey. Though I’m no landscape photographer, Iceland made me feel like I could be.

We spent four days hiking, fording rivers, crossing snowfields, and scaling over 5,500 feet of elevation. We met Icelandic folks, hikers from around the world, and stayed in a hut with a group calling themselves Viking Women.

Trail to Hrafntinnusker. © Brian Fitzgerald

Three takeaways from this trip—my first significant international adventure in 20 years:

The Value of Attempting Hard Things
Hiking 5-8 hours for four days straight was a challenge, and it felt great to finish. Just getting there—lining up transportation, reserving huts a year in advance, packing and repacking—was also a challenge. In the end, the effort made for a truly satisfying experience, unlike any other I’ve ever had.

The Importance of Maintaining Relationships 
Many men I know have strong family ties but have let longstanding male friendships go. For over ten years, I’ve gathered annually with a small group of friends from both coasts. Some of this group went together to Iceland. Long-distance relationships can be maintained via text or Facebook, but getting together in person keeps them growing. Spend four days backpacking with someone, and you get to really know who they are.  I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.

Preparation Is Everything
A year ago, I was physically unprepared for a hike like the Laugavegur. It had been decades since my last multi-day backpacking trip. In my 20s, I would have winged it. Now, I wanted to enjoy the trip. I started walking daily over a year ago, racking up more than 2,400 miles in 2023, often with a 20-lb pack. I joined a Facebook group for trail hikers, researched, and asked my Icelandic neighbor for advice. Preparation made the trip smooth and enjoyable instead of painful and anxiety-filled.

So I’ve gotten my feet wet, and I plan to keep it up.  Not just with big, multi-day hikes in exotic places but also hikes here in Maine and New England.  Being outside is medicine for my soul.  To me there’s no more apt advice than this, attributed to Pythagoras: “Leave the roads; take the trails.” 

 

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Laugavegur Trail, Iceland. © Brian Fitzgerald

 

Laugavegur Trail Iceland
Laugavegur Trail, Iceland. © Brian Fitzgerald

 

Laugavegur Trail, Iceland
Ash Desert, Laugavegur Trail, Iceland. © Brian Fitzgerald

 

Laugavegur Trail Iceland
Markarfljótsgljúfur Canyon, near Emstrur, Laugavegur Trail, Iceland. © Brian Fitzgerald

 

Laugavegur Trail, Iceland
Rhyolite ridges, Hrafntinnusker, Laugavegur Trail, Iceland. © Brian Fitzgerald

 

 

Laugavegur Trail, Iceland
Greg Rec navigates along the Slyppugilshryggur Ridge, high above the Krossa River in Thorsmork. © Brian Fitzgerald

 

 

 

 

On the Campaign Trail with Senator Angus King

Maine Senator Angus King

It’s election year, which last month led to the opportunity to photograph Independent Maine Senator Angus King for his reelection campaign.

I’m used to hauling gear to handle any lighting situation. This time, though, I was just carrying a couple of cameras and a small off-camera flash. It felt like being a newspaper photojournalist again.

King, an avid photographer himself, wanted candid shots. No assistants, no extra gear. Just natural moments as he met with constituents in Brunswick and Skowhegan.  The mission was to travel fast and light, capturing real life as he made multiple stops along the way.

At one point, King left for an emergency dental appointment—reappearing 45 minutes later, ready to go. Soon he was throwing a football with Bowdoin College students at a local park (King was a high school football quarterback).  In my book, toughness is scheduling a dental appointment and a photo shoot on the same day.

Eight hours and five locations later, King was still going strong at an event in Skowhegan. It was fun and an honor to spend the day with him and his campaign.

Maine Senator Angus King
© Brian Fitzgerald
Maine Senator Angus King
© Brian Fitzgerald
Maine Senator Angus King
© Brian Fitzgerald

 

Maine Senator Angus King
© Brian Fitzgerald

 

Maine Senator Angus King
© Brian Fitzgerald

 

Maine Senator Angus King
© Brian Fitzgerald
Maine Senator Angus King
© Brian Fitzgerald

Behind the scenes at Sappi’s Somerset Mill

 

Somerset Mill in Skowhegan, ME for Sappi Global.  © Brian Fitzgerald

 

Last fall, I collaborated with the marketing team at Sappi North America on Project Elevate—a $418 million upgrade at Maine’s Somerset Mill. They’re overhauling Paper Machine No. 2, expanding its capabilities, all while the mill’s day-to-day operations churn on. Having struggled myself to simultaneously construct my child’s Ikea desk and binge watch TV, I couldn’t help but be deeply impressed by this achievement.

 

My task was to capture elements of this

Somerset Mill in Skowhegan, ME for Sappi Global. © Brian Fitzgerald

massive project over the course of one day. This involved shadowing Sappi N.A.’s president and CEO, Michael Haws, as he toured the bustling construction site. I created environmental portraits of Haws and his team, and photographed him with Sappi workers.

I love creating images in industrial environments like these–while challenging, the opportunities for amazing and dramatic visuals are worth the effort.

 

Paper Mill
Somerset Mill in Skowhegan, ME for Sappi Global. © Brian Fitzgerald

 

Somerset Mill in Skowhegan, ME for Sappi Global. © Brian Fitzgerald

Photographing AI leader Amanda Stent at Colby

Female Scientist
Amanda Stent, inaugural Director of the Colby College Davis Institute for Artificial Intelligence.  ©Brian Fitzgerald

I’m excited to share one of the assignments I did for Colby College recently. This was to photograph Amanda Stent, the inaugural Director of the Davis Institute for Artificial Intelligence at Colby—the first such cross-disciplinary institute at a liberal arts college.

Professor and student discussion
©Brian Fitzgerald

Stent, a renowned expert in Natural Language Processing (NLP), transitioned from her role as NLP architect at Bloomberg L.P., where she led their AI team. She has authored or co-authored more than 100 papers and is co-inventor on more than 30 patents in NLP. In short, Stent is a big deal in the world of AI, and her leadership of the Davis Institute will allow Colby to fulfill its goal of integrating AI and machine learning into a liberal arts framework.

Luckily, the Colby Campus provided a number of interesting environments for portraits and for interactions with students. It was important to try to give a sense of the academic environment as well as the innovative work being done there at Colby.

Female Scientist
Amanda Stent, inaugural Director of the Colby College Davis Institute for Artificial Intelligence.  ©Brian Fitzgerald

 

 

 

Dylan Metrano: Crafting Tiny Marvels in a Cozy Space

 

Dylan Metrano
© Brian Fitzgerald

Dylan Metrano perches atop an adjustable office chair that—along with his drafting table—dominates his top-floor home studio. Glow-in-the-dark stars cling to the ceiling, remnants of a bygone nursery. A bookcase and artwork adorn the walls of its 8×10-foot interior.

“I’m in the space that I need, because I don’t work particularly big. My cutting mat is only 12′ x 12′ so I don’t really go much bigger than that,” says Metrano, a paper cutting artist based in Bath, Maine. “I wish I had more wall space to hang more art up in, but in general I’ve got everything I need in here, he says. “I can’t imagine working without it.”

In this cramped space, Metrano meticulously crafts paper designs, melding shapes and colors for cards, logos, T-shirts, posters, album covers, calendars and more. “My tools for paper cutting are basically an X-Acto knife, a glue stick and a ruler,” he explains. His sole extravagance, the rolling chair, came from an advance for illustrating a children’s book years ago. “I have to have a nice surface and a nice seat,” he explains.

Bending over his table, knife in hand, Metrano swiftly carves a black piece of paper with a stenciled design. The paper measures perhaps six inches square. It’s an animal—a bird.

Dylan Metrano
© Brian Fitzgerald

“Birds are definitely one of my favorites. There’s so many varieties and they’re so colorful and interesting. The feathers are really fun to create,” he says.

Metrano grew up in Massachusetts but frequented the coast of Maine as a child. He later worked on Monhegan Island, where he met his future wife, Mandy. They eventually married, settling down and starting a chocolate-making business called La Nef Chocolate. Throughout it all, Metrano continued crafting paper art, even when lacking a dedicated space. “When I first moved to Monhegan (Island) I was doing paper cutting in the cafe there, but it’s distracting with people coming and going.”

Metrano pauses, glancing up at his MacBook. The screen reveals a reference image of the subject that is gradually taking shape, cut by cut, on his board. It’s a Killdeer, a small shorebird. Metrano adds bits of colored paper—red for the eyes, brown for the head and feathers, white for the breast. Almost done.

Birds are easier to create with than people, Metrano observes. “You don’t have to be so specific with birds or animals because they’re not recognizable as an individual. If I try to do a Prince portrait and the nose is not quite right, it’s not going to look like him. That’s where it gets more difficult. Those are harder to do ultimately, but they’re really gratifying when they come out well,” he says.

When creating purely for personal enjoyment, Metrano—a lifelong musician as well as an artist–prefers to create musician portraits. “That’s what I do just for myself,” he remarks, displaying a few past creations: Deep Purple. Prince, of course. The Beatles, and others—both famous and obscure.

Beatles Portraits
© Brian Fitzgerald


Despite its limited size, Metrano’s studio is a sanctuary. When he enters, he disengages from the world outside. “It’s more like switching off,” Metrano chuckles. “It’s a meditative exercise for me. Once I’ve got my pencil marks down on paper and I start cutting, I don’t really think about it. A couple of hours goes by and I’ve got a piece done.”

Killdeer Bird
© Brian Fitzgerald


With the Killdeer finished, intricate cuts highlighting texture and color, Metrano rises from the table. His workspace is illuminated by a solitary desk lamp in the now-darkened room. It’s late, and his work is done.

“I do it because I enjoy it. If I ever find that I’m not enjoying it, I just won’t do it,” Metrano says, glancing around his close confines. “I’ll just go make more chocolates.”

 

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Dylan Metrano
© Brian Fitzgerald

Creating Spaces is a project that explores the connection between Maine artists and craftsmen and their physical workspaces-—places that are often hallowed grounds of creativity and solitude, far from the public eye or the gallery.

Neon Dave: Shining Bright in Portland’s East Bayside

Neon Dave
Dave Jacobsen, AKA, “Neon Dave” at his East Bayside studio.  © Brian Fitzgerald

Dave Johansen, known as Neon Dave, pauses and surveys his workspace in Portland’s East Bayside neighborhood. Filled with piles of cut glass tubes, a various boxes and hand-drawn designs on paper, the cluttered area is one of three he utilizes in a shared space. “As a self-employed single person, it’s nice to have other people around sometimes,” he says. “Other times, it’s nice to rock out by yourself and get a lot of work done. But having people around makes everything more fun.”

Neon Dave has been a neon artist since 2003. “I was already doing art and painting and was using a lot of reflective, fluorescent colors and metallics,” Johansen explains. “I started thinking about incorporating light into the art, then researched neon, and I just decided to do it.”

© Brian Fitzgerald

He clarifies that while ‘neon’ traditionally refered to the use of neon gas–which produces a distinctive orange light–the name has come to encompass the use of various gasses and chemicals that produce a variety of colors used in glass tube signage and artwork.

Johansen’s studio is divided into sections: administration, assembly and paint, storage, and a glass flash shop, where tubes are heated, shaped, filled with gas, and bombarded with electrons.

Dave likes his studio’s location, amidst other art studios in a now-trendy neighborhood peppered with breweries and coffee shops. “It’s been interesting to have a front-row seat to a changing neighborhood as one of the first wave of artists,” he reflects. “The character has certainly changed. But I like being close to the action. For my local clients, if something goes wrong, like a transformer failure, I can respond quickly without spending the whole day.”

© Brian Fitzgerald

 

 

Creating Spaces is a project that explores the connection between Maine artists and craftsmen and their physical workspaces-—places that are often hallowed grounds of creativity and solitude, far from the public eye or the gallery.