Category Editorial

Arrested: Stories Behind the Badge

Arrested: Stories Behind the Badge
Maine Game Warden Pete Herring, photographed on the shore of Lake Arrowhead near Waterboro, ME.

For the first time, I’m publishing a few images from a project on Maine’s Peace Officers that I’ve been working on for over a year with the working title, Arrested:  Stories Behind the Badge.

Arrested’ is a series of portraits of law enforcement officers from across the state of Maine, photographed at the actual locations where they experienced a life-altering incident on the job.

The diversity of situations the officers I’ve interviewed have been incredible: some have been shot; others have had to use their weapons. Some have been injured, some have saved lives. All have had to react in situations that required skill, judgement and humanity.

Nationally, the idea that cops are dangerous and out of control, and are to be feared–this is an additional burden on officers in Maine, many of whom police the same communities they and their families live in. When a difficult incident occurs, they are reminded of it every time they pass the spot where it occurred.

Arrested: Stories Behind the Badge
Photographing at the scene of a house fire rescue, Old Orchard Beach, ME.

This project is an attempt to convey the reality of the difficult work officers do every day. I’m thankful to the officers who have participated. I’d like to say that it’s been a good experience for them to share their stories, but I also know it’s not been easy for people who tend to avoid the spotlight.

It’s been an incredible experience for me as well and I hope to share the complete project, as well as the many stories, soon.

Arrested: Stories Behind the Badge
York County Sheriff’s Deputy, Sgt. Steven Thistlewood.

Make them love you. Hint: it’s in the details.

 

Storytellilng detail images from an assignment about a local water district.
Storytelling detail images from an assignment about a local water district.

 

No photographer is an island. We own our creativity but everything else—our technology, our access, our assignments—are enabled by others.  Even our creativity is enhanced by our collaboration with the art producers, editors and designers with whom we work most closely.  These are the folks that take the work we create and publish it, display it, print it and turn it into amazing displays, stories and campaigns.

Without them, we’re just shooting cool photos and sharing them on Facebook.

I try to approach each assignment as if I were back at the newspaper. Even if the assignment was to make a single simple portrait, I went into each job thinking about what else I might photograph. Back then, I challenged myself to come back with a three-picture package that told the story and might give the page designers more options. I always looked for storytelling details to include, too.  That approach gave the designers the ability to use images as teasers on the front page, for example. Sometimes designers used none of it.  Months down the road, looking for a timeless detail image to illustrate a different story, they’d see my image and  find it a perfect fit. This storytelling approach challenged me creatively, led to better visual play and better designer/editor kharma that I’m hoping will benefit me in my next life. It’s something I still do today, reflexively.

The editorial assignment photographer needs to always look for telling details. Sometimes these visual metaphors are more compelling, more storytelling than the ‘main’ image itself. In commercial photography, these types of details are just as important. In an era when companies have greater ability to publish content on their sites, there’s an even greater need for storytelling details that can be used as evergreen content, on company blogs and in ad campaigns.

Details also come in handy for designers who need a key visual element, or require ‘filler’ content, etc. These details solve a lot of visual problems. Having a photographer who actively looks for them is a big win because it gives the designer options.

The thinking photographer who goes the extra mile for their editor or designer will be the go-to photographer for those people. Realize that the assignment isn’t just about the image being requested, just as your job is not solely about you.

 

–30–

 

Native Sons

nativesons-1

 

Back in the early part of the 2000s, I was chief photographer of the Yakima (Wash.) Herald-Republic, a Seattle Times Company newspaper centrally located in the part of Washington State Seattlites refer to as “the Dry Side”, among other things.

Yakima derived its name from its nearest neighbor—the sprawling reservation of the Confederated Tribes and Bands of the Yakama Nation.    Comprised of 14 separate Columbia River tribes, the Yakamas now occupy a 2,185-square-mile sized territory that includes a portion of nearby Pahto (12,281-foot-tall Mt. Adams).

Growing up in Northern Arizona, I’ve always lived around and interacted with Native Americans.  My first reporting job out of college was to cover the Yavapai-Apache in Arizona’s Verde Valley.   When I moved to Yakima, years later, I was eager to explore the Yakamas.   A proud people, the Yakamas still live on a portion of the ancestral lands and practice their hunting, gathering and fishing traditions as best they can.   They fought the US Army in the 1800s until a federal treaty recognizing their rights was signed.  They fought many battles in federal court since, with precent-setting law the result.

For much of five years I met with interviewed and photographed many Yakama tribal members, and met many new friends along the way.  One of the results was a project with writer Phil Ferolito, published as a special newspaper section, called “Native Sons:  The Men of the Yakama Nation”.    As best we could, we attempted to show the unique struggles, challenges and triumphs of different generations of Yakama men and their families.    I’m proud of what we were able to do, but so much more could have been done to promote understanding and appreciation of Yakama, and native, culture and life realities.  See the pages of the published project below.

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Just Published: Pop Photo + Roller Derby Dolls

This is pretty fun—this month’s issue of Popular Photography Magazine features a two-page spread of my image of a Portland, Maine roller derby team in their regular “How * Lighting” feature. It’s a simple lighting setup that is extremely effective in creating a sense of drama. In a word, perfect for a subject like the roller derby dolls.

PopPhoto_RollerDerby_WEB

Limit yourself—and become a better photographer

I suspected things might end badly when Garin’s pickup ran over a Gila Monster.   Then again, I always figured that my week-long trip photographing a ‘tough-love’ camp for teens was going to contain some ups and downs.   We were reporting on one of those organizations that parents bundle their troubled teens off to, figuring that six weeks spent sleeping and hiking in the middle of a southwest desert can reach them in ways they haven’t been able to.  They aren’t usually wrong.

I pitched the story and a writer,  Garin, was assigned.   We would be backpacking and living with the kids for almost a week, at least 50 miles from the nearest town in the middle of Arizona’s Tonto National Forest.    We had to pack in water, and weight was an issue.  Due to the lack of ability to recharge my digital cameras, I shot with a reduced kit:   two Nikon film bodies, three lenses and a flash.   A couple of hours into our hike towards the first night’s camp, I forded a river, slipped on a rock and went down hard.  I emerged from the waters with my primary camera body soaked, the electronics fried.  My 80-200 mm lens dripped water, the front element smashed on the same slippery rock.

There I was, miles from anything, down to one film body (a Nikon FM2) and two lenses—a 24 mm f2 and a 35-70 f2.8.     I had approximately 5.5 days of our six-day trek left.    And I was sweating.

That trip was when I learned a fundamental truth:  that limitations can be a great thing.    Freed of the need to switch camera bodies, and forced to use a wide-angle and a medium telephoto lens, I adapted.  I spent time with each lens and worked them.  I got in close when before I might have stayed at a distance.  I didn’t worry about the shots I couldn’t get and focused on the types of shots I could.    In the end, I left at the end of the week with a set of images I was very happy with, and the sense that I had learned something important.

Why is this pertinent?   Because today it’s all about choice.    As a photographer, I’m always tempted to buy the newest gear or learn the latest technique, but I know that sometimes imposing limitations on myself makes me a stronger shooter.   Instead of taking all of my lenses to an assignment, I might force myself to shoot with just my 50mm lens.   I might forego the larger studio lights I typically use and instead shoot with speedlights or just a large window and a silver reflector.   It’s very, very easy to get distracted from the actual story that you’re trying to tell.   Too many gear choices, and too many possible locations tend to muddy the waters, sapping your energy and leaving you with weak images.   Better to commit to a couple of visual situations, and to a limited selection of gear, and then spend your time actually thinking while you photograph.

 

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It’s the story, stupid

Telling Stories: Jim Twombly

You’ve heard of the acronym, ‘KISS’, right?  It stands for ‘Keep it Simple, Stupid.’   It’s mantra that software engineers, among others, use to keep them on track during development to guard against product bloat.  I keep a similar line in my head when I’m approaching an assignment:  It’s the Story, Stupid.

Now, maybe you’re one of those rare photographers who can always stay focused and zeroed in on your work, but me—I get distracted.  I’ve been known to set up a bunch of lights in a daisy-chain, lighting up God Knows What just because I could. This is a photographer version of tunnel vision, and it makes you a slave to a concept rather than what you should be:  flexible, in the driver’s seat,  and  asking yourself the kinds of questions that lead to images that truly tell the story you’re trying to show.

On an assignment, lots of things are going on:  you’re interacting with clients or subjects, fiddling with your gear (why won’t that PocketWizard remote fire??), keeping an eye on the clock and the shot list, managing your assistant or team.  It doesn’t matter.  You always have to be aware of why you’re there and what story you’re there to tell.

It’s that awareness that leads you from the image you (by necessity) planned for to the one that Serendipity bestowed upon you that works much better.

Recently I photographed Jim Twombly, a retired Portland police officer, at his home for a story featuring patients of a large medical practice group.   Jim was diagnosed a couple of years ago with diabetes and was facing a slew of health issues.  He worked with his doctor to completely change his lifestyle.   As a result of eating healthy and exercising regularly, Jim dropped more than 50 pounds and is stronger and healthier than he’s been in years.     I was there to photograph Jim as he did his morning routine—exercise followed by an oatmeal breakfast.   During my earlier scouting visit, we had decided to move his starionary bike to the more visual solarium he had built onto his home.   Early in the morning, as the sun was coming up, it would make a great visual.

Telling Stories:  Jim Twombly

And it was.  The only problem is that, devoid of the usual clutter, it made the solarium look a little bit sterile.   After photographing Jim in his home, I asked to go photograph him in the workshop above his barn.   Once we stepped into the sawdust-infused atmosphere, stacked with woodworking tools, Jim seemed to relax.   This was his element, clearly.   I set up a couple of lights but wanted to keep the portrait low-key, focused on Jim in his world.    We chatted a little, Jim settled into a comfortable position, and the image at the top of this post was made.   Once I took it, I knew it was my favorite image because it told more of a story about who Jim really is–a hard-working guy, a Mainer, a craftsman.  A guy who is tough enough to stick to a complete revamp of his lifelong eating habits because it just needed to be done.

Good on you, Jim. For more about Jim’s story, check out his feature on InterMed’s website.