Sunrise Outreach members lay their hands on and pray for Gideon Merchant Thursday, April 9, 2009, during their morning stop at Naches and Chestnut Avenues in Yakima, Wash.. From left are Jeff Brooks, Jackie Archibald, Frank (who asked his last name not be used) and Debra Harrington. Merchant said he has been looking for a job and "in desperate need of spiritual healing" when he by chance walked up upon the group and asked for them to pray for him. "This photo is a powerful, genuine and meaningful moment that I was lucky enough to witness and then be able to share." --Andy Sawyer

In each caption the photographer has written a comment about the photograph. Look, read and enjoy.

–Gordon King

Â

Long ago I saw photo by photographer William Davis that has stuck with me ever since. It’s in the book, “If Mountains Die: A New Mexico Memoir,” by John Nichols and Davis. It’s a simple photograph of a magpie’s imprint in the snow.

For me, it’s something that’s difficult to wrap words around. With the imprint, the magpie gives itself away, marks its existence for the moment; but that bird’s legacy is only a fading memory at its discovery. In a matter of days, hours, minutes, that frozen moment will be gone.

But the photograph captures it, keeps the moment for us to see, and in doing so allows us to see more than that moment: we can see the time before it was there, the moment it happened and the time after it was gone. So I always look for footprints in the snow. I do my best to appreciate every one. These were in my back yard.

–Andy Sawyer

.

–Andy Sawyer

Anyway, the page also had some photos of the Superstition Mountains in Arizona … mountains that used to be in my “back yard” so to speak. So I did a search of some of my old photos and — among others — this one stood out. I remember it well … these leathery prospectors gathered around a campfire, roasting a pork loin and drinking … what else … whiskey.

I was there to photograph the unlikely gathering of loners in the foothills of the Superstition Mountains while they swapped lies and told stories from their frequent travels into the mountains and quests for gold.

It’s a nice memory, them around the campfire, the smell of dinner cooking and the bottle being passed around. And all that because I was thinking about asking for the Northern Exposure series on DVD for Christmas. I think photo and memory this were a gift enough.

Also, some technical info: I shot this during a time when I lit almost every photo. This was shot on film — probably Fuji 800. I used two strobes, one blasted over the background to make the dark figures stand out, then a second light on their backs to give them an edge in the shadows.

–Andy Sawyer

A lot of people ask me what my favorite subject is to photograph. Through my years as a photographer, this answer has changed: nature, sports, social documentary. Today, I’ve decided to come clean. I’m one of those guys who always talks about his children … well, child, in this case (at least until early July!!). This is Lucy, my daughter, who is 20 months old.

Only 20 months, yet, I can’t even remember a time when she wasn’t in my life. She looks a lot like her Mom, thankfully, and also has a lot of her Mom’s personality, thankfully. Eating apples off the ground she gets from me … OK, that apple she’s eating didn’t really come from off the ground.

She does have my blue eyes. I can’t tell you how many photos we have of her, and yet, it never seems to be enough. She’s hands-down my favorite subject. I know that’s not what a lot of photographers would think of as provocative, sexy, daring, adventurous, cutting edge or what have you, but that’s where I am in life, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I honestly believe that all the other work I do as a photographer has become better as a result.

–Andy Sawyer

I guess what struck me the most about this assignment was that it took me away from my family for three nights, but some of my subjects wouldn’t see their families for months on end. Three days was hard enough for me … I can’t imagine what it must be like for those who come here to work and leave their families behind. I’m not sure I could do that, but then, I’m not faced with same circumstances they are.

ANDY SAWYER/Yakima Herald-Republic A passenger says a final good-bye as bus doors close and the trip north begins.

All in all, it was a great assignment. It was a challenge for sure, since the photo opportunities were limited, and editing was even tougher because the story became one that is both impressionistic and literal, and cutting photos out was easy to a point, but then the story line took over, and I found myself keeping photos that I normally would have thrown out early.

I think we ran more photos than a story like this would usually require, but given the linear element, I really believe what we ran was what it took to give readers the full story of the bus ride. I mean, it’s a long ride, and my knees ached by the middle and onto the end … I need to try to convey that ache, too, even if it’s just that a reader is sick of looking at my pictures.

–Andy Sawyer

– Miller High Life advertisement

Before I started working in journalism, I never expected to hear the National Anthem or say the Pledge of Allegiance as many times as I have, but we go to a lot of public events that begin that way, and that’s just how it is. I also never dreamed that I would eat as many hot dogs as I have, and the two often tend to go hand-in-hand since both happen before high school sporting events, and I’ve been to a lot of high school sporting events.

The hot dog thing started when I was working in Twin Falls, Idaho. I mentioned to my friend and fellow photographer, Andy Arenz, that I was going to grab a hot dog from the concession stand before shooting a Detrich High School basketball game. Andy sort of looked surprised. “Wow, I don’t

know if I would do that,” He said, or something to that effect. When I asked him why, he answered, “I don’t know, really, it just seems like it would be bad luck.” He suggested that I instead get something for the drive to the game. “Maybe Burger King,” he suggested. But not a Whopper or anything like that, but rather a cheeseburger, since they stick together well and wouldn’t fall apart as I ate and drove. Photographers aren’t really known for their healthy diets. So Burger King it was.

Now, some photographers would have chalked up my failure to get a good photo at that Detrich game to: dungeon-like lighting, zero places from which to shoot, a short time to shoot due to a late-starting game on a dark snowy night with a tight deadline. But I wasn’t about to start making excuses like that. The blame fell squarely on my Burger King dinner. When I saw Andy next and he saw my sub-par photo, all I could do was shake my head and say to him with disdain, “Burger King.” We had a good laugh. But before my next game, I had a hot dog from the concession and got a good photo. Since then — and much to my doctor’s dismay, I’m sure — I always have a hot dog before a game (I try hard not to think about how many I’ve eaten). It got to the point last year that the Ike boosters saw me coming and had the hot dog waiting on the counter for me. Sad, isn’t it?

But it seems to work, so I’m not about to risk messing it up. I think the reason it works is simple: I’m giving some support to the school — however small the purchase of a hot dog might be — before I shoot.

–Andy Sawyer

Emerson died in the service of his
country, and his family, friends and community members honored his
memory on the field where only a few years before he had played

football.

It’s always difficult to remain emotionally detached in these
situations, but that’s what we have to do. We have to do our jobs and
create photos that document the event and tell our readers the story.
We have to point our cameras on people who might not be too
enthusiastic about being photographed at that moment, and take our
photos. We have to walk up to them afterward and ask them their
names. It really stinks. It’s especially bad when the person being
honored seemed to me to be the kind of person I wish I had known, his
family the type of people I would like as neighbors. But I didn’t let
myself get caught up in the moment, even when my gut turned as the
announcer called out Emerson’s number and name, but instead of him
running onto the field, cheerleaders released balloons that I watched
float up, out, then beyond the stadium lights.

Afterward, as I walked back to the car, a woman thanked me for being
at the event. I told her, “You’re very welcome,” when really I felt
like it was I who should be thanking her and all the people there for
letting me attend. I put my gear in the back seat, turned and waved
back at her and I could feel it welling up. When I climbed in and
closed the door I realized what I already knew: I can only hold it
together for so long. It was a long ride back to the office.

-Andy Sawyer