Saturday, January 10, 2009
The first baby of the new year, with parents at the hospital. I look forward to this assignment. It's usually a gentle reminder of exactly what photojournalists do, the basic marking of the passage of time from day to day and year to year, life and death. 2008 had a lot of that for me.
I also like this shot because it reminds me of a renaissance madonna painting, the tones of the clothes and cabinets, the bright blue heart monitor.
There's a great Bodine photograph of a manhole cover in the center of a street, with the double line painted over it. Some workers had clearly removed the cover for some resaon and then replaced it with the lines now running parallel to the rest of the road. It's titled "To Hell With It", and it's an elegant commentary on a certain kind of work ethic. The kind that would, say, make a plastics company dump tons of raw plastic refuse from their factory, for decades, along an abandoned railway next to the Patuxent River. So much plastic that eventually the trees grow around the materiel, like weird neon fruit .
It's also the kind of work ethic that when the county decides to transform the abandoned rail line to a recreation trail, a good idea, somebody decides that nobody needs to actually clean up the area, just to lay the trail directly through the debris field. No need to bother with informing the public about the pollution either, who is going to notice? The hell with it.
When newspapers are gone, these are the kinds of stories that the community will never get.
A double homicide in an apartment complex, middle of the day. No known motive and no arrests yet. Not a great picture, and I'm really trying not to exploit this tragedy. I wanted to say something about the banality of murder, how we live with it all around us, and even though it entertains us every night, our neighbors still die every day.
Friday, January 9, 2009
A State Police Medevac pilot prepares to lift off on an emergency rescue. These guys have had a hard year, with a fatal crash and political investigations of their spending and effectiveness. Listen, I've watched them for almost ten years now, they are performing miracles every day in Maryland. You want to raise my taxes by 20 bucks a week, I'd pay it to keep them flying.
For a story about a the cutting of a medical program that send nurses into the homes of at risk mothers, usually teenagers, and teaching them about prenatal health and infant health, especially about how to avoid SIDS. A program that literally saves babies lives, and it gets eliminated.
On working on this story, the reporter discovered that the mortality rate for African American babies in our area is substantially higher then for white babies. It makes me sick to even think about how this can be. So I proposed to an editor at the paper that this fact seems like a good starting point to do a really in depth series of stories about health and African American children.
The answer was no.
I was told, in a phrase that I won't repeat, that we write about the death of black children often. Too often, in fact, to bring up again or make a big deal out of.
You want to know why the newspaper industry is dieing? Because we deserve it.
In shooting a lot of the same thing, in this case baseball/softball games, you have to amuse yourself. Here is a season long series where I set out to capture the best pitcher shot, using the extreme foreground batter and catcher as the framing elements. One is pretty good, but two is the best. Three is second best, and four I pushed it too far and lost it completely. I got caught too, legendary Governors photographer Tom Darden called me and nailed me on it.
The Chinese religious group Falun Gong stages a demonstration. I'm not sure about the facts about Falun Gong, but I am sure I was discouraged by an editor from covering this event.
"We don't cover demonstrations anymore".
Um, yeah, we do. All the time. A reporter overheard the discussion and got involved, heated emails flew. I've discovered that I'm not so good in these conflicts, so I left and just shot the demonstration. I turned the photos in and they ran, inside, but they ran.
Homeland Security paid for these police cameras overlooking downtown, but not for an officer to monitor them. So they are only good at catching criminals after the fact. And maybe it was worth it, they did catch the man stealing money from the parking meters.
The police installed the cameras without any public announcement, and no civic debate. We found out by accident that they existed. Then they wouldn't tell us where they were. I had to walk the streets and find them myself.
Whether or not we have street cameras is less of a concern to me then that the police thought there was no need to inform the public that they were there. Without newspapers, how will the public hold authorities accountable for what they do ? Bloggers?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The commander of an Army installation at a press conference/luncheon. Basically everyone was asking him, um, lets say "softball" questions, when my reporter slammed them by demanding an explanation as to why the Army had been clearly avoiding cleaning a pollution site. Not this guys fault, he just took over, but the moment was priceless. Again, accountability, thats what newspapers do best, that's the reason they're hated by the powerful. Accountability.
From a story on life and troubles in public housing. This story is very, very hard to shoot. First it's physically difficult, not even counting the potential danger of crime (actually low), in that a lot of people in public housing do not want to be photographed. Who could blame them.
And frankly, it is young black men who should be the center of these stories, and they are the most resistant to the idea. I snuck this shot during a block party.
Any amateur can go into the projects and take arty pictures of poor black kids smiling shyly at the camera. What kind of story does a picture like that say? Are we saying that black people in public housing are essentially children? That's the message that comes across.
The young men, the ones we are most afraid of, that is the story we as an industry fail to tell. We are afraid to even admit we are afraid.
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