Memorials and funerals
Memorials and funerals we attend are always emotional
events, always painful to photograph in some shape or form. Like last
Friday before Grandview High School’s homecoming football game when a
memorial to fallen soldier Matt Emerson reminded everyone that sometimes
people don’t come home from wars.
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
Lucky
Fall is on its way, and I feel so lucky that sometimes my job is just to go out and appreciate the beauty around us.
–Sara Gettys
The inevitable
I was left with a bloody stump for an arm after Sunday’s street luge assignment. “Look out” were the last words I heard before bales of hay were airborne and my arm was wedged between the pavement and one of these modified skateboard contraptions.
OK, so maybe the “bloody stump” is a huge exaggeration. Nonetheless, while lying on my stomach to make photos of kids speeding down 96th Avenue through an obstacle course, I was suddenly struck by an out of control youngster participating in the USA Luge Slider Search tour put on by members of the USA Luge National Team.
After the impact, I stood with a gash in my wrist and bloody elbows and knees. I fumed. I was about to yell at the kid who ran me over but, after inhaling deeply, I realized no one was to blame for our painful introduction. I was positioned off the course and in what I thought at the time was a safe area, and the young man was certainly not intentionally trying to grind my hand away from my arm. It was a simple accident.
As photographers, we understand that there are some risks associated with our profession. It is our job to get the best photo possible and sometimes that means we get hit, bitten and bruised (if not worse) in the process. It’s not the first time I’ve come back to the newsroom a little bloody, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
–Kris Holland
Size isn’t everything
This is an illustration to disprove the sentiments I (and my fellow photographers) have heard many times about how having a long lens must make for great pictures. It does — as long as you’re in place before the action, have a nice, clean background, and (at least in my case) a fairly quick and accurate autofocus.
Where a long lens sings is stopping action with a minimal depth of field, making a subject “pop” in focus against a background that’s intentionally left out of focus. We want to see the jubilation of victory or the sweat of exertion on the athlete’s face, not the spectator eating a hot dog behind her. What goes into making that great picture is knowing what’s going to happen before it does — where the play is headed, which player is likely to react when she scores a point, who’s in position to dive for the ball. A moment too late means the ball is out of the frame and the picture is unusable. A moment too late and that foot of focus is misplaced, caught on the net or a player’s arm that’s swung into the frame, or the crowd behind the player.
In this case, the camera first focused on the high contrast of the advertising behind the player and was slowly moving to the players when the peak action, the moment I was hoping for, happened. Two frames later, I have a nice sharp frame of these two young women, watching as the ball sails toward the net.
A long lens is definitely a great tool for shooting sports, but equally important, I’ve found, is practice. It’s knowing the game well enough to know where to point and focus that lens before the action happens. It’s knowing the limits and strengths of the tools you work with and how to use them to capture the moments that are meaningful, no matter the setting. It’s not making great pictures because of the tool, it’s making great pictures with the tool.
–Sara Gettys
