(First published 25 years ago)
I can’t really say why I went down to Haiti in the first place. Ron, a priest friend of mine, wrote and suggested I make the journey to see some places and faces that would fill a whole book. As every egocentric photographer knows, that’s all you really need to hear.
It’s good to not know what I’m doing.
My wife texted me on a recent Thursday afternoon, asking if I was into a last-minute cruise.
“Okay, cool!” I wrote back.
Early Friday morning, we hopped into my Prius and drove south out of Detroit and snow squalls toward sunny New Orleans. Read More
I met Zach this past fall down in Kentucky at The Mountain Workshops, a week-long intensive dive into photojournalism. He was one of our students in the Picture Editing sequence that I’ve been lucky enough to help teach each fall for a large part of this millennium.
Zach made us laugh, worked really hard and helped us — with our other students — pull together a 120-page book of photos and stories in less than a week. But I think I bonded with him during our shady drug deal on the streets of a small Kentucky town.
Mid-November, mid-50s, completely unexpected Seattle brilliance. This is the worst month to visit Seattle, or so the internet tells us. So much for all the rain, all the gray, “put your tourism on hold for now” advisements.
I wasn’t allowed to express my opinions.
I’ve photographed some of the best and brightest politicians — Bill Clinton and Al Gore — and some of the least auspicious, like the fun mayor of Concord, New Hampshire, who moonlighted as my Social Work professor, while I was working on my Master’s degree.
When I photographed politicians and political campaigns in the past, I had to be objective and not let my own personal preferences sway my journalistic integrity. Spending so much time traipsing around the Granite State during The New Hampshire Primaries, I did indeed form opinions about the candidates I covered. But I had to keep those opinions to myself.
The email came it at 4:06 pm Wednesday, “Call me as soon as you can. Need to discuss something with you.“
You’d think I would’ve gotten the memo.
Hiking a perilous trail (well, perilous to me) and surviving the journey, would alert some people to the fact that maybe sheer cliff walls and tight rock tunnel passageways might be better left to other, more intrepid national park visitors. Especially since I’ve just miraculously reached the end of that trail before lunchtime.