Character Profile
I had trouble not editing this as I would a multimedia piece–laying image to audio for the best impact. I tried to think of the components individually choosing the strongest of both, but when I would drop in photos, I inevitably tried to make sense of the image/audio pairing.
I have since been reminded of examples of still slide shows with audio (thanks to Advanced Techniques class). There are many projects when the photos drive the story in one direction, while the audio tells a separate part of the story and it all works beautifully. Here’s one: http://mediastorm.com/publication/the-marlboro-marine (then again, at 16 minutes long, one certainly can’t expect image & audio to constantly dovetail as perfectly as Amish furniture). The un-matching works in this piece – I think I’ve worked too hard to match that I’ve forgotten the poetry of what photos and audio alone or together can create.
This piece needs some work – there are times when both audio and image could use a little more time and air. Ultimately I think I needed more shooting time after knowing how the audio would edit down, so that I could work on images that built Larison’s character and captured his essence–focusing less on the process of his role as pastor of both traditional and cowboy churches.
I hope to spend at least one more evening at the Cowboy Church–especially now that the weather is better and the days are longer, and maybe they would leave the garage door open through the service. I’m also keeping my fingers crossed for a baptism, that would be the berries. There was also talk of portraits of the members of the church with a horse. These would be so fun, but when is there time? –hopefully while I still have access to the dynalights. In sum: I hope to work on this more, but I’m not sure if life will allow it.
Jay & Hurn’s “The Picture Essay” and Chapnick’s “The Great Photographic Essays” crystallize the commitment required by both subject and photographer—especially when you are working on a story that focuses on one central character—to do a long-term story justice. As photographers, it’s our responsibility to explain to our subjects the level of commitment required in order to tell their story well.
The photographer must feel passionately that the story is important to tell, must choose subject matter that they want to live in for some time, subject matter that has purpose, and seek the truth—whether it is what they expect or not—and modify the original story as required. The subject must also feel the same passion and understand the importance of their story being heard so that they can be honest and open with the photographer—subjects can’t sign on just to please the photographer, or else it will quickly become a burden and imposition into their life.
Coming out of True/False weekend, I can’t imagine what it would be like to loose a subject that you had spent years following. In a conversation with one of the directors, I learned about how, during filming, she and her crew could sense that one of the main subjects was pulling away.
Because the director was passionate about telling the story and the character’s personal struggle was integral to the story, their unwavering commitment to work together was the only way that the story would be given justice. If the subject had dropped out early, she would have given up her power to tell her story, an important story, to the public. In this case, as in many important photo stories, the ability to share their story was empowering to the subjects.
Hurn & Jay talk discuss how the amount of photos needed to tell a story is often dictated by space allotted and to break a story down by theme helps organize plot points. When space is limited, say in a magazine layout, you can then simplify your themes. They recommend starting out by making “visual impressions” or by simply watching (instead of going in shooting like gang busters) – taking notes on the themes/patterns/feelings neccessary to accurately portray the story. By working out a basic framework of the story from these impressions, you know if you are missing something photographically (and falling prey to the visual cliché) and know when you’ve completed the story – or where your holes are. It seems so simple, how have I never thought of it?
ps/ Assuming you all know – but Life Magazines are online in Google books (awesome).
POYi Feature Multimedia
From two hundred fifty (something) down to seven, back to eighteen, down to three, then finishing at six—the judges exercised thought, discussion, and patience in the feature multimedia judging. The overarching themes of discussion were: character, story and innovation.
Character:
I’m convinced now more than ever that character that drives a story, whether that story is made of pictures, text, audio, video or multimedia. Just as Lamott told us that character drives a narrative and plot, so too does it drive a multimedia story. We need a person to connect to, to care about. This also ties into the idea that a successful story is really a collaboration between the character and the photographer, writer, etc. The character has to allow the multimedia journalist to see their character or else the piece will lack depth.
Judges gravitated to “A Little Girl’s Fight to Live” and “A Thousand More”(among others) based on the strength of the main character. Both of these pieces have a strong story, but the story would be nothing without the strength and likability of the main characters. Both stories feature a child who is living with a syndrome/disease that threatens their life, yet they smile, laugh, and find ways to still be children. It’s the details of Philly’s shoes, wheelchair license plate, or Marisa’s running around in a princess dress with her mom following with her ventilator, that make us connect to them and their stories.
Story:
All judges mentioned good, well-organized, edited story as criteria for being considered for an award. As soon as a piece breaks from a focused storyline, the viewer’s engagement is lost. When you watch 18 multimedia pieces in a row, it is easy to see which pieces maintained a solid story arc and which pieces shattered the illusion.
A few more lessons I took during this exercise: You can’t wait until two minutes in to explain what is going on. Think about pacing, many of these stories felt too slow. Need to complete ideas. Think of the tone of the ending just as you do for a still story. Show and tell: you must have the visuals to back up what you claim. One piece had a doctor describing how “special” a kid was; yet the piece hadn’t been established the kid as anything but sick.
Lynn True, who admitted she expected to be drawn more to the video-heavy pieces, commented that she stopped noticing whether each piece used still or video when a story grabbed her emotionally and intellectually. Nelson Walker echoed this sentiment.
True, a documentary filmmaker familiar to longer forms marveled that such emotion can come from just a minute. So she was really looking for an emotional connection; whether brief or not resolved. She wanted to leave the multimedia piece feeling satisfied, curious, and/or moved.
For True, The Comfort of Acceptance did this. In her words, she liked the piece “from the first sentence,” and commended the producers for not dwelling on the quirkiness of that statement or the otherness of the girl with Aspergers. Instead the piece showed the character’s perspective in a meaningful way. To me, this piece followed a style of storytelling that Kim Komenich has spoken about: the proverbial peeling of the onion. First, we meet Anna, then little by little we learn more about her but also about her story: her adoption, that her mother is older, etc. etc.
Innovation:
Judges also looked for innovation, whether of style, techinique, or story arc.
Judges commended Pole Vaulter for sophisticated video work – use of x-rays & medical scans as well as reverse motion of the pole vaulter’s accident. This one was a surprise for me. While I agree that Kasbe used interesting techniques to tell a story that took place in the past, my problem was that the story happened in the past – there wasn’t much lead into the future. This was, in fact, a similar criticism that Duy Linh Tu made about a piece called “Streets of Japan.” Linh Tu thought the piece, about the man who became homeless & considered suicide, was visually stunning but lacked arc. To him it felt like the beginning of the story, since much of what the story chronicled had taken place in the past, it would be the lead in to the present. We both were waiting for how this lesson from the past had propelled them to some change in the present.
In Home|Front, images taken of an Army doctor stationed in Afghanistan and his pregnant wife and young daughter at home are paired to show how different their lives are. The pairings are incredibly smart. In showing the differences, it also shows that there are still patterns and routines that remain the same. Interviews with husband and wife compliment the piece. The back and forth is beautifully handled, and impressed judges by telling a story they are all familiar with, in a new way.
Picture Story: 1 Day Story
Steve Owens, who served as interim president, watches as newly appointed President Timothy Wolfe fields questions by media after the first Board of Curators meeting during his tenure. With the University System’s current $47 million budget deficit, $30 million caused by cuts to state funding, Wolfe is taking over the four-campus system at a fragile time.
University System President Timothy Wolfe and Steve Owens, General Council for the University of Missouri System, regroup as Wolfe’s first Board of Curators meeting is adjourned. Curators, voted unanimously to raise state tuition by 3 percent and out-of-state tuition by 7.5 percent. While the increase in tuition money will help it is not enough to cover the deficit. Curator Warren Erdman commended Wolfe and his team at the end of the meeting for their quick preparation of the tuition plan, since Wolfe’s Feb. 15th start as president.
Molly Wolfe pins a boutonniere on her husband after arriving at the welcoming ceremony at Memorial Union. President Wolfe, Molly and their twins, Tyler and Madison, greeted faculty, students and Columbia residents at Stotler Lounge on February 20, 2012.
President Wolfe and MU Chancellor Brady Deaton joke with Susan Lowry, Executive Director of Donor Relations for MU, and Jefferson Club Trustee Roger Steinbecker during the welcoming ceremony on Feb. 20, 2012. The Jefferson Club organizes high dollar philanthropic support for the University of Missouri. Membership to the club is granted to those who make a contribution to the school over $25,000.
President Timothy Wolfe flanked by his wife, Molly, and MU Chancellor Brady Deaton greets guests at his welcoming ceremony. For nearly three hours the president met guests one-on-one; planned speeches were cancelled so that the president could welcome each person who attended the ceremony.
SELF CRITIQUE:
This story is incomplete and my plan to do a day-in-the-life style story of the new University System president is not yet realized.
I spent as much, if not more, time constructing and reading emails as I did actually shooting. It’s a fine balance of pleasing those who can allow you access while getting what you need to paint the full picture of a public figure. I thought that I had made progress with those who control access to the President’s comings and going, and that they understood the kinds of opportunities that I was looking for and would make them happen.
While the public relations representatives were great about inviting me to public events, I still feel that I am missing a sense of what the president’s day is like. I was never able to follow him as he transitioned from one engagement to the next, to see him start or end his day, or to even see him where other press was not already invited.
The president’s schedule is more public than private—especially now as he is being introduced & welcomed by different parts of the MU and Columbia community; but I can’t help to think that there are quieter moments that I’m missing. I’m holding out hope that I will be able to photograph the unattended moments of the president’s schedule—and perhaps more importantly, an opportunity to set the MU scene.
I wanted the challenge of trying to see (and photograph) what can be very scripted and controlled press events differently than I would if I were working for a newspaper. I really tried to hone in on the subtle cues of what was unfolding before me. I’m not sure that I succeeded. To me, these images feel too quiet, a little boring, and not incredibly unique. I think as I revisit the story, even if it is a press event, I want to watch even more and shoot even less. Ok enough excuses…time to keep working.
Picture Story: Reading Reflection
One of the missions of photography is finding the universal – those details that make audiences understand, even relate.
In the chapter “School Lunch,” Lamott, once again, gives exercises for breaking the block—whether it is a block of content, words, character or story. Simply enough she advises us to start with what you know – for her the school lunchroom.
Her memory and description of the school lunches hits on those universal messages. We can all remember some version of the boy sitting alone by the fence, though details will change. Although the exact connotations will differ for each person, reader, writer, photographer, we can all relate to how some food items were acceptable while others were not. Some food presentations were acceptable, while others were not. Some kids were socially accepted, while some were not.
As photographers, we can look for the subtle cues in details that connect the viewer to smaller universal truths but also that connote a greater meaning—Lamott’s example of carrot sticks conjuring the family trying to compensate for problems by having perfectly prepared portions.
Perhaps the exercise of remembering symbols of status from our old lunchrooms will help us better recognize symbolic details today, both in our own lives and the lives of our subjects.
The Hurn and Jay “Selecting a Subject” dialogue, reminiscent the dialectic style of Plato/Socrates (I suppose Hurn would be Socrates?), also pushes us to find the subject that hits on the universal. As H&J suggest a photographer must have a sincere interest, an “intense curiosity,” to photograph it well.
I really liked this quote by Jay: “….I could stop the struggle to be a photographer-like-other-photographers. It was such a relief. I began shooting anew, with a simple concentration on the subject which most interested me, with no thought of success, prestige, or reputation, but with a joyous liberation – which continues to this day”
This is a good lesson during POYi season. It’s so easy to see the judging see something you like or something the judges like and want to do it yourself. Hurn & Jay instruct us that finding inspiration at POYi only really works to spark an idea or lead you down a path that is true to you. It’ doesn’t work to mimic shooting style of a winning photographer or aim for subject matter just because it earned attention from judges, it will be derivative and boring. They suggest that style comes by making the subject the most important thing, “when the subject takes precedence, you not only start the journey towards a personal style but also you discover the sheer joy of visually responding to the world. It solves a lot of doubts, clears away all confusion.”
I think we can all agree that it is important to make lists of story or even single photo ideas when they come to us. I’ve had best intentions of doing this for sometime and I do jot things down all the time, I just have not come up with any system that keeps all of those thoughts in one place. I’m constantly finding post-its as bookmarks years after the fact with something, usually not at all related to the book, I was trying to remember the first time I read the book.
Hurn & Jay also warn that photos should not be about our experience, our personal reaction to being there, or about our feelings; but should stay focused on the feelings, experience and story of our subjects. The only occasions that I can imagine the photographer’s feelings should drive the story are those that are autobiographical, when photographer is the subject. That being said, we are part of the images we make, and it is us as photographers reacting that either sees or misses the what the true feelings of the situation are, our reactions should be based on better understanding our subjects, rather than ourselves.
We’re left with the analogy of a mother photographing her child. They advise photographers to have enough love and understanding of our stories so as not to rely on fancy tricks to make pictures; rather the story dictates lens choice, framing, etc of the photo, technique becomes natural. What separates photographer from adoring mom, is our ability to find the universal within the individual.
Picture Story: Editing Exercise
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Pinar and I focused on the father’s ambitions for his daughter and how these were making a thumb-sucking toddler into a little diva, with echoes of both roles throughout. This manifests in body language in the saucer chair, the disheveled princess in the portrait, etc. So as not to give it all away in the first photo but still set the stage, we started with the details of the father painting his daughter’s fingernails.
We wanted the shot of her in the saucer chair second, because we now see her with painted nails and baby blanket sitting in a very adult, almost provocative pose. This also acts as a scene setter to their home, and the dimness of available light gives the feeling of early morning.
Since we had no space for truly transitional shots, we used visual devices to tie the photos together. The blanket repeats from the first hand detail to the floor in our second shot (where we also see the nail polish bottle). Then we set up the detail of the trophies with an empty shelf at the top, presumably saved for the best prize. From here we segue to the pageant. Again, the blanket is beside the tot and she is in the same jean skirt, but we are also introduced to her pageant dress. The dress ties in the runway shot, where we see dress and blanket together.
I found it challenging to complete the design after the picture editing. At first I had planned to do the magazine layout and I think Pinar and I had both edited with 5 magazine pages in mind. While the pacing of 2 spreads would compliment this story, I felt that I was battling too many edges. Where images best fit the context of the story arc didn’t suit direction of compositional elements in the frames in relation to the pages.
Picture Story: Inspiration Response
Ellen’s chose an amazing installment of the One in 8 Million project. I watched first with sound, then without. Without sound, I noticed things that I had missed while watching with the sound.
The story builds by first introducing the family before Mebat. She is introduced in an untraditional portrait. We see her in the house, before we see her in the family. Then we see her with the three biological sons, her new brothers. In the first images, she appears engaged in their actions while they remain focused on other activities. The visual relationship between Mebat and the family members builds as the images mount. Eventually we get to moments of interaction: holding hands with mom while walking down the street, looking at a book on a bed with one of her new brothers, and a sweet moment with dad at the front door.
How lucky is it that she’s so often wearing hearts? This symbol becomes a visual device that holds the images together, and also creates a visual metaphor that suits the story of a newly adopted daughter and the love and compassion a family must show its newest member.
I also really like the Invisible Families story that Kristen found: Jack’s Story by Erika Shultz. Once again I watched it both with and without sound. The images of Jack alone feel like a glimpse into his child psyche—full of color, imagination, fun, innocence. It is only when we see Jack in context of the other people, mainly his mother, that we see the daily struggle that this family faces being homeless. This duality of perspective allows the viewer to begin to understand what their lives feel like.
Picture Story: Reading Reflection
Lamott writes, “One of the gifts of being a writer is that it gives you an excuse to do things, to go places and explore.” I love that photography gives me an excuse to talk to strangers, to learn about them and the things that they do, to have a reason to ask questions and see and feel and hear new things all the time.
She tells us the story of having her first book published and how it was not the magical ending she had expected. That in her career as a published writer she has learned that writing itself is the best part (not the publishing). As journalists, we’ve learned that our Aristotilian-style “duty” is to inform the public, preserve democracy, act as watch-dogs. While absorbing Lamott’s lesson seems counter-intuitive, it’s still an important remember of how lucky we as photographers (journalists) are each time we are invited in, allowed in for those special moments, permitted to use our cameras to record. While we have a duty to get our work seen, we also have a duty to BE in the moment.
Lamott encourages us to write everyday. I took an Islamic Art History course in undergrad with a professor that I loved. Since I hung on just about every word she said, I also hung to an idea that she once shared. She observes one object everyday and writes about it, I mean really observes, like spends 20 minutes just describing a plant, or a coffee mug, or some other cool or banal thing.
Obviously the more we flex the muscles we need to do our jobs, the stronger they will be. It makes perfect sense, but is not always as easy to build into our daily routines. Lamott relates to us and to this struggle, but encourages that routinely working through the internal chatter will help you move past it and routinely (like even the same time each day) devoting time to writing, or for us photographing, will help it all come easier.
On of my favorite comedians, Mitch Hedburg had a joke that went something like….”Sometimes at night, when I think of a joke, I gotta go get a pen to write it down, or if the pen’s too far away I have to convince myself that what I though of ain’t funny.”
I’ve spent far too much time convincing myself that my idea isn’t worth getting out of bed for the pen—rationalizing why I shouldn’t take my camera or take a picture—“I don’t want to risk breaking my camera” or “my camera is heavy and there’s no use taking it if I don’t take all three lenses and I’ll be walking around all day.” Time to end that nonsense.
So beyond writing everyday, shooting everyday, excercising your voice part of your daily routine, Lamott encourages us to write anything, not worrying about it being good. In fact, expecting our first draft, shoot, whatever to be “shitty.” She also offers the idea of the one-inch view approach. For Lamott, this is picking one scene of a story and assigning oneself to only worry about that scene. For photojournalists, this would have to work a little differently. Peter Essick spoke to our class Monday. Essick takes huge complex ideas, global warming for one, and breaks them down into places and moments that will best describe a piece of the puzzle. After research, he must focus on illustrating each piece before he can tell about the whole. To take this approach in our own work helps wrap your head around it.
“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor,” (p.28) I’ve battles this oppressor, as I’m sure many of us have, all of my life. It is paralyzing. Lamott repeatedly talks about quieting our inner voices so that you can produce, words, pictures, what have you. Lamott revisits this idea in so many ways (not that I’m complaining) that it makes me wonder: do all of us have them? By helping us recognize the barriers in our own minds, Lamott pushes us to thinking clearly and freely – it is the free from oneself type stuff that Gross and Shapiro write about.
I tune into this because some of the only times I can truly silence the inner chatter is when I’m in the middle of shooting. I have gotten to the point that the scene in front of my camera is all that matters and is all that I’m reacting to, the camera functions as an extension of me, capturing things as I see them. Though this doesn’t happen often and I’ve never been able to sit still and wait for moments, I shoot them all.
In many ways, neither of these works is really telling us anything new, but telling us things that we forget in ways that we can relate to. Sometimes we need the picture frame as the physical reminder of taking one step at a time. Sometimes we need to rely on the teachings of Tao to stay alert and receptive.
