Waiving flags, kissing babies, and shaking hands...

Welcome to the 2008 Presidential Campaign Trail....

Just spent my first week on the 2008 Presidential Campaign Trail, I can't believe I'm saying that and its only February of 2007... This trail is looking more like a marathon course. With 11 months to go until primaries the outcome could favor anyone. Every editor I have spoken with this week has shared the same sentiment. Along the road I've had the chance to meet a lot of shooters... seeing old friends and meeting new ones. It has been a great journey so far, I've had a great time getting to know the candidates, their families, campaign staffers, and more importantly the voters. Everyone I have worked with has been extremely professional, helpful, and on many occasions have gone above and beyond the call of duty to help me get great access. To top off this crazy week, I was called to go on assignment for Newsweek, with former Massachusetts Governor, and Presidential hopeful, Mitt Romney, and I had a really nice frame published from it. Ahhhh... this is the life.

Cheers!
Flashnick

Just pretty pictures, nothing more, nothing less...

I've spent five out of the past seven days on the road, and put more than 1200 miles of highway behind me, while traveling up and down the South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida coastline.I have a had a lot of time to think about things and make some pretty pictures even though I was going through technology withdrawal from time to time, due to the lack of internet, and cell. But after I returned and the emails starting pouring in, and the phone kept ringing off the hook I realized that I had taken for granted the time I had to just enjoy making photographs. I became a photographer because I love meeting people, seeing new places, and having the ability to share those experiences with others. However, recently I have let life get in the way. Sure you need to be concerned with making a living to put food on the table, a roof over your head, an gas in your car, but there are much easier and more lucrative ways to do that, aside from being a photographer. People are photographers because they love it, and I lost sight of that. What reminded me of my passion was something so simple. While sitting on the deck of a beach house I was staying at (aka sleeping on the couch) I saw seagulls swooping down to grab pieces of bread tossed into the air by some kids walking down the beach, the first thing that came to my mind was "How can I setup a remote camera to get in the middle of that?" and just like that I put the beer down and went to work, no distracting cell phones, no email, just the challenge of figuring out how to make an image that was in my head. When it was all said and done, all I needed to get my passion back was a monopod, a camera and a cable release... who know it would be so simple.... So where ever the road may take you in the future, remember to have fun doing what ever it is that you love, and stay safe.
Peace
Flashnick

A “visionary Luddite pixilator”

There are certain parts of any job that you love, and others that you dread. I always have a pit in my stomach when I have to photograph funeral proceedings for someone that was taken from loved ones all too soon. Its a delicate balance between telling a story about what this person meant, and being respectful towards a grieving family, and sometimes that line is hard to find.

On Wednesday I photographed the funeral of Helen Hill, a documentary film maker from New Orleans, La., who was murdered in her home just six days earlier. What most people know by now is that Hill, a talented film maker, who has become an example of the escalating violence in "The Big Easy," was one of six people murdered in a 24-hour period in hurricane ravaged city, which she loved. But what has been left out of the network news reports, and what I learned throughout the day, is that she was a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, and a friend to almost anyone she met.

As the Hill's casket was carried into St. Paul's Lutheran Church, I caught a glimpse of her 2-year-old son Francis Pop, in the arms of his father and Hill's husband, Dr. Paul Gailiunas, who was also shot in the same incident in which Helen was killed. As they walked past me, I had to put the camera to my eye in order to avoid making eye contact. However as they passed where I was standing to enter the church, Francis' eyes locked with my lens, and I couldn't look away. There was something so innocent about his gaze in my direction, which wasn't the typical stare of disgust that I am used to receiving as I photograph a funeral. As he continued to stare, I framed the image, of him looking over his fathers shoulder, and took a picture. His father turned to kiss him on the head, another picture, and another, and another, and so on. The few moments the two were standing on the steps of the church seemed to last an eternity.

As I walked up the stairs to enter the balcony of the church my mind jumped back in time, to three hours earlier, where a crowd gathered outside of a small independent theatre, before the funeral. Friends and family lined the block as they waited to enter the dark screening room for a viewing of Hill's short films, as the governor of South Carolina was being sworn in across the street. As the the services began Hill's brother, Jacob D. Hill IV spoke to a the crowd now gathered inside of St. Paul's Lutheran Church on Bull St., saying “I think she’s laughing seeing all her pacifist, left-leaning activist friends gathering across the street from where a Republican governor is being sworn in with F16s flying overhead.” More stories from friends, and family followed, all describing the same compassionate, fun loving, artistic person, that I began to wish I had the chance to meet.

As the service ended, Hill's friends and family spilled onto the street, still wiping tears from their eyes, comforting each other, but all seemed to be overcome with athe spirit of compassion, in the memory of someone they loved dearly. As the crowd began to break up for the procession to the cemetery, Christine Gump, a friend of Helen's, who flew to Columbia, from Los Angeles, removed the jacket, that was covering her left arm where a brightly "chicken embryo" tattoo had been freshly inked into her skin. "Eight of us went and got these on Sunday... We wanted to do it to remember her," Gump said.

As I walked back to my car, physically and emotionally drained, I couldn't help but feel happiness, because even though I never had the chance to meet Helen, her spirit, which lives on in her friends and family gave me a brief, and fleeting glimpse into how wonderful of a person she really was. Even posthumously, Helen touched my life.

Helen Hill Memorial Website
b.rox:Life in the Flood Zone
Videos of Helen Hill on You Tube
NPR Commentary by David Koen

Thanks for the Funk!

On Saturday afternoon in Augusta, Ga., the world said goodbye to a true legend. James Brown, the "Godfather of Soul" was sent off with four hour long "Home Going" memorial service presided over by Rev. Al Sharpton, and Rev. Jessie Jackson, in the soul singer's hometown. Seeing the number of people who showed up at the James Brown Arena in Augusta, was a sight to behold. It was amazing to see how many people Mr. Brown's music and message touched. Throughout the day tens of thousands of mourners passed by the casket of this amazing human being, each paying their final respect to the "Godfather" in their own way. Some passed by with a look, others wept and could not even face the sight of their hero lying helpless in his 24 karat gold casket. From time to time, the line would be stopped, and a celebrity friend of Mr. Brown would be escorted to the front of the room for their own private moment.

By 11:45 the arena had reached its 8500+ person capacity, and the doors were shut, yet hundreds still gathered outside, behind orange barricades, to listen to the service to loudspeakers wired into the arena's public address system. The following hours are still a blur to me. Remarks were made by Brown's family, and close friend Michael Jackson. M.C. Hammer, was so moved during a performance of "Like a Sex Machine," by Bobby Byrd that he broke into dance on stage, to the cheers of thousands, however by the time Rev. Al Sharpton proclaimed the famous words "Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust" those in attendance made their somber exit of the building, having paid tribute to a legend.

As I drove home I couldn't stop humming the hits of the "Godfather" myself. This will definitely be a story to tell the kids one day. May you rest in piece Mr. Brown, and as one mourner put it "Thanks for the Funk!"

Change of Pace...

For the past three weeks I have been following home school families associated with the Forest Acres Christian Educators association, as they prepare for their first annual Fall Heritage Ball. To the students this was more than just a regular fall dance. Since they are home schooled this is the closest that many of them would get to attending a formal dance that resembled a prom. For the parents the evening marked one more victory in their quest to provide an education for their children... on their terms.

After months of planning, shopping, and rehearsing the formal dances like the Virginia Reel, Postie's Jig, and several Waltzes, the night finally arrived. However unlike most proms the was no blaring hip-hop music, no gyrating bodies, and no skimpy dresses that left little to the imagination. As one parent stated, "if its not for sale, don't advertise it. As the sounds of a traditional waltz made their way out of the stereo, fathers danced with daughters, brothers danced with sisters, and friends danced with each other.

This story has been a nice change of pace for me, and its also been a fun opportunity to learn more about a part of the community that I didn't know much about. Even though I'm sure we have a lot of differences in ideals, morals, and religion, these families were absolutely wonderful to me. They allowed me complete access to anything I wanted, and thanked me for being there every time I showed up. It is stories and experiences like this, that recharge my batteries for photojournalism, if only I could do more of them.

high school sports... its a love-hate relationship

High school sports... bad light, coaches who could care less, officials that give you a hard time, and parents who seem to do nothing but complain, for all the difficulties... every now and then a nice fram slips through the shutter.

The art of Hurry up... and Wait...

Seven and a half hours of waiting, for six seconds of excitement... That is what Saturday boiled down to. It was the classic scenario of "hurry up and wait... and wait... and wait," where all I was told was that "We know this is going to happen some time today, but we're not sure when," but when didn't really matter it was the what and why that made this a fun hunt.

The movie "Death Sentence" is being filmed in Columbia, and on Saturday they were going to drop a car off of the top floor of a parking garage in the middle of Main St. In LosAngeles, the fact that they were doing a movie stunt wouldn't have even gotten a blip on the radar, but in Columbia, S.C. its big news, so I had to do something big with it. I talked my way into the South Carolina Health and Human Services building, which sits adjacent to the parking garage, and picked my location, the 9th floor mens restroom. As the crew was setting the car and cameras below me, I began placing remote cameras in the windows, covering the lenses with gaffers tape to cut down on glare, and making sure everything was set. Its one of those shots that you don't get a second chance with, so no screwing up.

Reggie, the head of security who had let me into the building, poked his head in the door around 2pm and said "They just called the 30 minute warning." After seven-hours of standing around on the street corner, the parking lot across the street, and in the mens restroom, every movement on the parking garage below got my coplete attention. Through the tinted windows I could hear the director call "Stand By" and a few seconds later "Action". As the car began to roll I fired both cameras simultaneously, and didn't stop until I heard the car crash on the asphalt below. See the Sequence I guess there is something about dropping stuff off of high places that excites us as people, not to mention the fact that when the movie comes out, I can say "hey I saw that happen" and I have the pictures to prove it.

Peace

Sometimes the pictures you don't take seriously are the ones you need to be taking...

Lately I've been taking my job a little to seriously, and it is becoming something I do to have an income, instead of something I love to do. But then again lately I've been taking life a little to seriously. I suppose that is the curse of making something that you love to do your career. In some ways its inevitable to just take something lightly as you get older, because you begin to realize that you need to be able to make a car payment, rent, insurance, food, etc... But when you worry about all of that stuff you tend to forget why you really started doing this in the first place. Perhaps its just time to stop taking everything so seriously, and start having fun again. Maybe then things will just fall into place. Who knows how everything will work out in the long run, and if we did know that... what would be the fun in living life. Its time to get up off of the couch and go explore the world, have some fun, and see what happens. Its time to take the point and shoot out, like I did at the beach the other day, because its more about the journey than the resullts. In that moment when I wasn't thinking about shutter speeds, f-stops, and iso, so I get to remember the sunrise, instead of how I photographed the sunrise. I think the line from the movie is "Don't take life to seriously, you'll never get out alive."

Peace

Its a small world after all....

Last night I got to shoot an event that I never thought I would see, my alma mater (WKU) taking on the University of South Carolina in the first round of the NIT. It was a completely surreal experience. I don't think I can count the number of times I've covered WKU at Diddle Arena in Bowling Green, Ky. as a student, and USC at the Carolina Coliseum or their new home the Colonial Center, as a freelancer.

On one hand I have spent my entire life growing up around the Gamecocks, and on the other I have spent the last four years of my life, eating, sleeping (or lack thereof) and breathing the photojournalism program at WKU. So needless to say both schools are very near and dear to me.

The first two things I saw when walking on to the court made me do a double take, first the all too familiar red towel, and second a very good friend of mine from WKU, Tyler Pelan, whom I hadn't seen in over a year.

It was nights like last night that make me thankful that I am able to be a photographer, because of the relationships we have with each other, the love we all share for making photos, and the ability to be in the situation where you don't have to pick a team you are pulling for because you have to stay "neutral" to document the assignment.

Aside from all of of the business stuff I am finally shooting again. Enclosed are two of my favorite shots from the game.

The Front Page Trifecta

Ok, so the financial pay out isn't as high as it would be at the horse track, but the feeling of accomplishment is even better.

When I woke up this morning and checked the paper as I usually do, I saw something that I haven't seen in quite a while, if not ever. My images adorning the dominant location on the front pages of the three major sections (Front Page/A1, Metro/B1, and Sports/C1). What makes this even better is that when I woke up on Monday morning I had no idea that I would even shoot an assignment. But all of this didn't come together without some planning and extra work.

At about 2pm, two minutes after I left the news room from turning in photos from an assignment I shot over the weekend I got a call on my cell phone from the director of photography at The State, "Before you get too far away turn around and come pickup the reporter," were the first words out of his mouth. Arriving back at the paper a few minutes later, I found out that the Metro centerpiece had fallen through and we had to go on a feature hunt to try and fill it.

This is when having the idea book that I always carry with me, really saved our butts. The assignment was to find what high school kids do after school on the first really nice day of spring, and the first place we tried turned up no kids. I guess these days kids just go home to play video games, check email, IM with friends, or participate in after school activities, because after 30 minutes of driving around we couldn't find any kids out and about. So referring to my little black book I found that I had jotted down the words "Owens Field Skate Park?," and we headed in that direction. Thankfully we founds some really awesome kids that we hung out with and shot photos of for about 45 minutes, which turned into a nice spring day slice of life.

After that was turned in, I overheard that University of South Carolina head coach Steve Spurier had called the first day of spring football practice a day early, so I headed over to the practice field to just shoot some photos for myself, or stock of what was going on. Having also overheard that access was really tight and the staff photographer who was already out there hadn't gotten much, I planned on just shooting some nice fan features. But when practice ended the gates were opened and a media frenzy ensued.

Seeing the rush of media, encircling the key players after they completed practice, like vultures circling a dying animal I decided to hang back and see how the players reacted to this, and that moment of pause paid dividends in the moments that I got. After leaving the practice field, knowing in the back of my mind that the staff photographer hadn't gotten good shots of the players faces, and really thinking that the media circus was actually the real visual story, I called the director of photography at the state again, and let him know what I had. After some quick, and tense moments of editing and captioning on deadline I walked out knowing that I had something that they were looking for, I walked out of the news room for the third and final time on Monday night.

Even if I didn't get the sections fronts, I knew that I had put in the extra effort and it had paid off in my personal satisfaction with a job well done, but now is no time to get over confident, and rest on my laurels, because my small victory today, will most certainly be forgotten or on the bottom of the bird cage by tomorrow. So I'm off to make calls and find out what else is going on so I can hopefully have another victory to add to my tally in this battle I have going with photography.

*note* this post is a few days behind schedule do to some issues I was having with the blogger interface on my computer. All is taken care of now, and more posts are soon to follow