"The war between old and new is a false construct. Nothing goes away."

… I lose patience with pundits who prophesy and lobby for the demise of all traditional media in favor of newer forms. - David Granger, Esquire Editor-in-Chief 

I covered the Georgia Literary Fair today at Georgia Southern University. The focus was on books. Real, honest-to-goodness printed books, their authors, and people who love to read them. I photographed a woman who loves to read books. She loves the feel of them and how they smell. And I spoke to some student volunteers who also said they loved books but, ironically, were fiddling with their smart phones while on break.

 Then I ran across a quote from which the title of this blog comes from.

I often think about the future of my profession. What will it look like? Will photographs be viewed only on tablets and smart phones? Will photojournalism be a viable career choice in an environment where everyone expects information to be free and where news organizations troll for free material from amateurs and hobbyists as the lion's share of their content? Will photojournalism as a full-time job be reserved for only a select, super-talented, ultra-committed few?

Sometimes, that's the picture being painted. (That's a quaint saying, isn't it?) Many appear to be advocating for the complete abandonment of printed communication, or "Legacy Media," as they say with a snarl. Maybe I am becoming a dinosaur, but I can't help but feel that some stories are more appropriately and most powerfully communicated in print.

Fact is, today's digital viewing devices simply can't adequately display the images modern digital cameras are capable of producing. The iPhone 4 touts itself as the highest resolution smart phone ever made at 960 by 640 pixels. Sounds impressive, but all those pixels are packed into a 3 1/2 inch screen. So, no matter how far you zoom in, you are still viewing a 3 1/2 inch image.

We go ga ga over gigantic High Definition televisions. No matter how big the screen, however, the resolution remains the same: 1920 by 1080 pixels. Professional level digital cameras are capable of producing TEN times that resolution – or more. In other words, an HD TV is capable of displaying only 10% of the detail captured by a pro digital camera.

Newspaper reproduction is limited, too, but it still requires an image roughly twice the resolution, or more, than that of HD TV to print adequately. Ever consider what you might be missing?

That's just technical mumbo jumbo, however. What photographs communicate, and how they do it, is more important. And I firmly believe that print is still often the best way to present still photography. On digital devices, photography is too often presented as video - in a linear fashion. An on-line slide show simply doesn't produce the same experience as a two-page spread in a broad sheet newspaper. And size does count. Does anyone believe those pictures of the World Trade Center on 9/11 would have been nearly as impactful on smart phone screens instead of on the front pages of our newspapers?

I love technology, though. The Digital Age offers opportunities to tell stories in more different ways than ever. We can appeal to a much broader audience. We would be fools not only to resist, but not to embrace the opportunities. But that doesn't make more traditional means of communication any less rich or valid.

Anyway, I'm glad someone like Esquire’s David Granger is better able to articulate how I feel.

For the full quote, click here: Words of Wisdom from Esquire’s David Granger - Mr. Magazine.

Saturday, October 23, 2010 | posted in commentary, personal | 0 comments [ More ]

Knowing when to say when ...

ECI running back Darion Moody, center, leaves Poral defenders
flailing on a 64-yard touchdown run on 4-and-2 when the
Bulldogs were trying to run out the clock just before halftime Friday.

There's a certain amount of guilt that goes along with being a one-man photo department at a small newspaper.

You can never adequately cover your community. The news is 24/7. It never stops. You end up having to make choices and sometimes compromise your journalistic ideals. Sometimes you're the one putting in the 14 hour work days, and sometimes it's your co-workers, and you feel guilty when it's not you. And you're constantly juggling that sense of professionalism and commitment with family and activities outside of work. It's a hard, if not impossible, balance to achieve.

Today, I spent most of the day with my sick 3-year-old. I didn't get in to the office until most folks were just kicking off for the day. I knew I was okay, because the only thing I had to shoot was Friday night high school football. Still, most of my co-workers had already been working at least half-a-day, and several would be working past 11:00 p.m., either web-casting the game, writing game stories, or putting together the newspaper for the next day. So, when I decided to bug out of the ball game at halftime, there was a twinge of guilt.

Some folks don't understand shooting sports. "Can't you get one good shot and then leave, since it's likely only one shot will be published in the paper?" they say. But it's not about getting a shot. It's about getting the shot. About telling the story of that game. Or at least a small group of photos that capture its essence.

I hate to leave a game early because of that. You just can't count out some kind of crazy turn of events that results in a monumental comeback. It's rare, but I've seen it happen, and I feel it would be professionally remiss to skip out on a game early just because I have a couple of good action shots. My worst nightmare is to leave a game early, have something unlikely happen, and not be there to capture the real story.

Tonight was not one of those times. The score was 42-0 at halftime. So, with both my wife and I facing long work days on Saturday – on our wedding anniversary, no less – and a feverish toddler, I left at halftime tonight.

So, with sincere apologies to Portal High School, my co-workers, and Statesboro Herald readers ...

WHEN!

Portal's Deontre Williams is slow to get up off the field after having his punt blocked by ECI's Wezley Ealey in the second quarter Friday.

Friday, October 8, 2010 | posted in behind the lens, daily work, personal, sports photography | 0 comments [ More ]

1980s madness ...

Okay, I feel really old.

 After the Statesboro High School marching band performed their '80s Madness routine at halftime Friday night, Tyler Smith, 17, told me I was one of the few people who recognized he was portraying Slash of Guns-n-Roses.

"People were coming up to me and saying 'Hey Ozzie!'"

Madness, indeed!

Friday, September 3, 2010 | posted in behind the lens, daily work, just for fun, personal | 0 comments [ More ]

Access is music to my ears

B.B. King in Savannah, 2002.

"I can look at a fine art photograph and sometimes I can hear music."

– Ansel Adams

I'm a music lover. And I have to admit that music moves me more emotionally than the finest photograph. If I could scratch out a living making music, I'd do it. But alas, that takes a certain amount of talent which I just don't possess. I believe I've been blessed with a discerning ear, but the sounds that come out of my mouth and my guitar don't qualify as something that, well, someone with a discerning ear would be particularly pleased with. I think your mind has to be wired a certain way to be a good musician. My mind is wired for something else.

Instead, when I have the opportunity, I try to combine something I'm good at (photography) with something else I love (live musical performances). While music is primarily an aural experience, there is a strong visual element to musicians plying their craft. Great music, like great photographs, is something you can feel. And you can actually see when musicians pour their heart and soul into their performances. The challenge is to make a visual document that somehow communicates what you hear and feel.

    Virtuoso violinist Isaac Stern rehearses with the Savannah Symphony.

What does any of this have to do with access? Well, over the years, I've come to prefer photographing lesser known and local musicians in small venues such as clubs or bars instead of famous acts in huge venues like arenas and stadiums. Why? At one time, I wanted to be like iconic photographer Jim Marshall. His images documented rock and roll in its heyday – in the 1960s and early '70s. Images that were wrought with the same attitude as the music. Raw. Edgy. Primal. Not always flattering, but real. And memorable. His photographs were historic, visual records of revolutionary musicians. Photos that depicted human beings who were often as tragic and flawed as they were brilliant. And it was all possible because he got access.

Jazz musician Doug Carn on break at his club Adagio.

Marshall persuaded famous people to let him into their lives and photograph whatever he wanted. Not a one of them complained after the pictures were published, either. Can you imagine that in today's entertainment climate? Today, it's all business. It's all about control of image and merchandise. On one hand, I can't blame the artists. Piracy and misappropriation run rampant in a society where many view the internet as a free-for-all. On the other hand, it's frustrating as a photojournalist who's interested in making honest, revealing pictures of the people behind the public image.

By photographing lesser known musicians in smaller venues, it's easy to get the kind of access that creates more interesting, revealing pictures. The in-your-face action. The behind-the-scenes stuff. You don't get herded like cattle into roped-off areas and get forced to shoot the same stuff twenty other photographers are shooting.

Statesboro's own Chris Mitchell in 1999.

Recently, country music star (and now actor!) Tim McGraw came to town and played the football stadium at Georgia Southern University. There was a buzz because big name artists rarely stray from their big-city, big-venue tours and make a stop in Statesboro.

View from the soundboard

I get progressively more jaded every time I have to shoot a big concert. Acts get more restrictive all the time. Typically, you get to shoot during the first three songs, then you get escorted out of the venue. That's it. And it usually take more than three songs for the atmosphere to warm up. Musicians get in a groove. They connect more and more with the audience as they go along.  If the artist doesn't perform a signature song in the first three, you're out of luck.

As close as I could get

A group of local news media arrived at the stadium and we were led in by university staff. They laid down all the rules and then apologized for the strictness, saying those were the rules from McGraw's management. Usually, there is a roped-off area between the stage and the audience where photographers and videographers shoot from. This time, instead, we were led to an area just in front of the sound board – a good 30 or 40 yards from the stage!

"You must be kidding!" we all griped. There weren't even any risers for a sightline above the hundreds of fans between us and the stage. My longest telephoto lens could barely reach the action. The opening act came on, and I made a few frames of the musicians on stage - images that were probably inferior to those made by fans' phone cameras next to the stage. I was disgusted and couldn't wait for the event to be over. I spent most of the opening act making pictures of fans in the audience, which were much more interesting that the ones I made of teeny tiny figures on stage.

Tim McGraw fans Greg and Carolyn Taylor

After the opening act was over, someone came to the area that was part of McGraw's immediate management. There seemed to be some confusion and she was herding us together again. I couldn't hear exactly what she was saying at first, but it seems that we were not shooting from an "approved" area. She was concerned about us interfering with the sound crew and special guests. Great. So now we were going to be moved further away?

Well, I griped too hastily. Apparently, we were supposed to be up next to the stage, but someone forgot to make accommodations. Eventually, we were given the option of staying where we were, or we could be escorted through the crowd to the stage. "Lead the way," I said. Event staff led some of us through the crowd. I got slimed with sweat, hollered at by drunk fans, and pinched in the derrière, but I found my way to the T-shaped runway extending from the stage. I quickly made friends with a couple of very excited fans and a security worker, who very much looked the part but was quite friendly. I was one with the crowd when McGraw hit the stage, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Lisa Peavy, left, and Rachel Jackson in the front row.

My photos weren't anything terribly special. But they were infinitely better than if I had continued shooting from the sound board. I still couldn't name a single Tim McGraw song if you pointed a gun to my head. But I think was able to give Herald readers just a little sense of the excitement. To know what it was like to be in the front row.

Fans next to the stage reach out to country music star Tim McGraw at Paulson Stadium in Statesboro.

Amazing what just a little access can do for my psyche.

It's like music to my ears.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010 | posted in behind the lens, commentary, personal | 2 comments [ More ]

Luck and life ...

Trixie Lee and daughter Sunni

Sometimes I have to remind myself how lucky I am.

Part of working at a small newspaper is covering events that recur year after year. I'm going into my fourth year at the Statesboro Herald, and often I find myself struggling to find new ways to record annual happenings. One of those is the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life. A campaign that lasts several months culminates in teams made up of local businesses and organizations taking turns walking all night long around a makeshift track at the Kiwanis Ogeechee Fairgrounds.

It's mostly a joyful event, celebrating life and resolve with cancer survivors taking the first lap to rousing applause to kick off the evening. There is a somber element to the event, however, with the track being lined by candles memorializing those who have died of cancer. Mostly joyful, though. Families and friends and co-workers laughing, playing, selling and eating food. Survivors hug and make conversation after waving and slapping high-fives with spectators while making their victory lap.

And my pictures from past years have mostly reflected this. This year, I worried about making all the same pictures I've made in the past. However, at the very end of the Survivors Lap, I noticed two women holding hands as they stepped off the track and continued across the field. I followed them and noticed the their t-shirts, especially the younger woman's message: "I wear pink for my mommy." I caught up with them to get their names and they shared their story. The mom had been diagnosed with cancer in 2004, had licked it, but had recently suffered a recurrence. She has undergone treatment and is awaiting final word on remission. She traveled from from out of town to join her daughter, a Georgia Southern student, who was volunteering for Relay with her sorority. We were all choked up a little, and I thanked them for allowing me to share their moment together. "She's my life," mom said of daughter.

At that point, I was pleased that I had captured something showing a different aspect of the event than I had previously photographed, but I continued to shoot features to post on our web site. The evening light cast a glow and long shadows across the scene, so I decided to take advantage. I positioned myself on the ground beside the track, shooting up at walkers as they strolled in and out of the gorgeous light. In the foreground, in the bottom of my viewfinder, were the still-unlit candles in bags anchored with sand. I was going strictly for graphic effect. I could hear people chuckling at me as I lay prone on the ground. Didn't bother me. Happens all the time. Probably a hundred peopled sauntered past, and I was just about ready to move on when I saw her. And elderly woman, walking slowly, by herself, reading the names on the bags. I kept shooting. She was practically on top of me when she paused.

Betty Hood remembers her husband at Relay for Life

I knew she was looking at the names, so I asked her about it. She told me she was looking for her husband, who had died of cancer almost three years ago. She had stopped because she found his memorial – right in front of where I had set up to shoot pictures. I was going for visual interest. I lucked into something much more poignant. She was sad, but also grateful for the Relay and gushed about how great it was. She intended to stay the night with volunteers and walkers, and would later be joined by her sister from Savannah. Choked up again, I thanked her, too, for allowing me to share her moment and her story.

Like I said, sometimes I have to remind myself. I'm much luckier than I usually think I am. I'm lucky that life, sometimes surprisingly, keeps presenting itself to me and my camera in ways that I can share. In ways many people can learn from and reflect on. I'm lucky that I can bear witness to the human spirit.

And I'm lucky to have my own health and a family I can go home to and cherish every moment with.

I guess I'm just lucky.

Friday, April 16, 2010 | posted in behind the lens, commentary, daily work, personal | 2 comments [ More ]

"What's that snow doing?" and the personal cost of covering news ...

"What's that snow doing?"

That was my two-year-old son's words when he saw snow for the first time, Friday. Or so I'm told.

At the time, I was driving around 30 miles per hour on U.S. Highway 80 (speed limit 55 mph) between Portal and Statesboro, Ga., trying desperately to discern between lane markers and new-fallen snow.

Someone had called the Herald with the first signs of snow in Bulloch County from Portal. So I dutifully trekked out that way in hopes of capturing the historic moment while there was still daylight. It doesn't snow very frequently in South Georgia, so it's history when it does.

I didn't get home until after midnight, and I knew I would have to get up early the next morning to beat the inevitable melt. There were many more photographs that needed to be made.

The experience made me contemplate my role as a photojournalist, it's value to society, and it's personal cost.

I've left this profession twice. Once, when I was freshly out of college, wondering if I was suited to a profession that demands so much of a singular commitment. I took a job in a commercial photography lab to bide my time while I hashed out my course in life. It took a year-and-a-half before my first newspaper job beckoned me.

It was another 16 years before I left once again. After reaching a stage of disillusionment and disconnect with what I was doing, this time I abandoned my career for an entirely unrelated field and business culture. It was a mere 5 months before I found myself back in the newspaper business, making visual chronicles of the community in which I lived, with a renewed sense of purpose and commitment.

What is that sense of purpose and commitment? My old boss from a previous newspaper job e-mailed me when he found out that I had returned - he told me I was doing something I was born to do.

Photojournalist Joe McNally recently blogged "We just can't help it ..."

"We’re strange, right? We can’t stop. We run when others walk. We work when others relax. We have no sense of weekends, holidays, time off, time on, or time in general, except as it relates to sunrise or set."

Joe was specifically talking about photographers, but in a way, it reflects the life of most journalists, no matter what medium they specialize in.

I spent about an hour with my wife and son Saturday morning before embarking, once again, on my quest to document our community. I was emotionally conflicted, wanting to spend every moment with my family, sharing a rare event in our area. All the while, I could sense the melt all around, knowing that the window to do my job was closing fast. I left, reluctantly, so I could make images of other families and friends sharing experiences in our fleeting winter wonderland.

Sometimes you can't help but wonder about how much you miss by trying not to miss anything.

So, what's the cost of covering the news -- information that helps chronicle every day, records history, and assists people in making informed choices in their lives, both big and small?

What's it worth to YOU?

Just askin'. I can't help myself, regardless of your answer.

And, what was that snow doing?

Monday, February 15, 2010 | posted in behind the lens, personal, photojournalism | 1 comments [ More ]

At home ...

What does an overworked news photographer do in his/her sporadic off-hours? This one tends to put the camera down, most of the time.

That might surprise some. Don't we live and breath photography? Yes, and no. After lugging around one's equipment for 40+ hours a week, you like to get a breather. It keeps you fresh, and a fresh eye is vital. You're always looking at light and imagining what everything might look like through the viewfinder, but sometimes you simply need a rest.

Of course, that doesn't stop family and friends from designating you as the "official" photographer for events and get-togethers. And you try to oblige. I try to leave my work gear at home. Tossing a point-and-shoot camera in the pocket is more handy.

Some photographers really do live and breath with their cameras everywhere they go. They have personal projects. Favorite subjects not covered typically on the job. Maybe I'm different. I'm not a particularly good landscape photographer. I used to enjoy photographing musicians performing, but the late hours cut into family time. Not surprisingly, the subject of most of my off-hours photography is my son. I try to imagine what the world must look like through the eyes of a two-year-old. It's a pretty good approach for a photographer, when back on the job.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009 | posted in general photography, personal | 0 comments [ More ]