April 11: Jerry Springer and the Zen of Photojournalism

Who says the Jerry Springer show is only good for those stuck in the comfort of their own trailer? Here's one unpaid testimonial to the benefits of trash TV. One afternoon I turned a recorded episode of the show into an exercise in anticipation and capturing the all-mighty 'decisive moment.' Using the Pause button on the VCR as a shutter-button, I spent a couple of hours freezing the action during fight scenes. A few episodes worth of practice and my trigger finger was on the money. I totally recommend this exercise, although I would recommend the 'Too Hot to Handle' mail-order Springer tape since there's nudity to spice things up.

I spent a lot of time this week feature hunting for a local paper. My boss often asks for three features a day and then ends up running one; I wonder how the writers would react if they were told to pen three stories and only one saw the light of day? Getting features is like going to the bars: most of the time you come home with squat, but sometimes...sometimes, you get lucky and score a fatty. The secret is not to look.

I covered the Holocaust Awareness Week on the Boulder college campus for four years. Usual photo in the local papers: people standing in front of a podium reading the names of Holocaust victims. I spent an hour working the shot but found nothing fresh. I took a breather at the 'Galaga' machine and returned to find a guy standing in front of the podium with his head down. I started to shoot when he started to wipe his eyes even though I thought he might not me want me there.

This incident reminded me that you should shoot and edit later. I have missed shots where people were emotional because I thought they wouldn't want their photo taken. However, I have often found out later they didn't mind at all. I also learned that even the most photo-starved events have some surprises in store and that if we wait with a certainty that something unexpected will happen, we will get the shot faster than being not ready for the moment, missing it and then praying for it to happen again.

I was at a shoot with an intern who was disillusioned with the assignments he was getting. 'Nothing ever happens,' he complained. We were at a construction site for a new mini-golf course. For the first 20 minutes, I sided with his attitude. But as I grew tired, I saw something that looked like it might have made a good shot: a kid flattening the mud in the amusement park threw a spade-full of mud at the fork-lift operator who covered his face.

Just reviewing the 17 names on today's notepad. This is the life: meeting people, joking around, complementing them and making them feel better; a small gift in return for their photos. Now I know why William Albert Allard said that he might be alone, but not lonely.

I also decided that it isn't important to pursue the 'fame and fortune' of the big metro papers. Colorado Daily editor Clint Talbott was a finalist for the Pulitzer prize in literature. Not bad for a guy who works at a black and white campus paper with about 10,000 circulation.

I learned that it doesn't matter where you work, as long as you are producing the goods and the paper has good photo play. I know several papers, the Longmont Times Call for example, which devote TONS of space to photographs. Staff photographer Jeff Haller just got two full pages(with no annoying ads) for a story. Just today(June 2) they devote two pages to a spectacular house fire. Would this happen at a metro paper on a regular basis?

April 12: Earning trust

As a photographer, you know the moment you've gained a subject's trust. At this house, it was when Ruth handed me a green Easter egg.

Ruth is one of eight people who live on the upstairs floor of the Chinook House, a clubhouse for people with mental illnesses. Most of the day is spent socializing and preparing meals for those who seek shelter and friendship. I had visited the clubhouse for two weeks and always joked and listened to the residents pour over the history of their lives.

On Easter Sunday, when everybody had left and we were sitting in the living room, she pulled something out of her bag and handed it to me. 'I only have two, but I want you to have this.' she said, revealing a colorfully decorated Easter Egg. I was very touched by her offer and to this day, the (now) rotten egg is in my fridge.

April 13: Everybody is beautiful

The 'Conference on World Affairs,' a week-long round of discussions on a broad range of topics involving approximately 100 scholars and intellectuals, came to town once again. The discussions were interesting, but sucked as photo opportunities.

One panel in particular caught my eye. Entitled 'Vogue: Everybody is beautiful' it taught me three things:

o Beauty is the ability to be ourselves.

o Everybody is beautiful and we should make it a habit to tell each other.

o Smile. Some physically beautiful people don't know how to smile. A big smile reveals a lot about who you are.

I was burned out by mid-week, but knew that if I kept on looking, I'd get something different from the repetition of talking heads in my negatives. Most of the local coverage included these same head shots. But I found out perseverance pays off: on the last day I got an amusing shot of a heated discussion on technology:

Spent more time at the Chinook Clubhouse. I feel a certain bond with people who have experienced misfortune because I understand that only a little bad luck seperates their fate from mine.

Perhaps what I enjoy most about being a photographer is making people laugh and in a small way, making them feel better about themselves. A woman was telling her art teacher, 'My father was a painter...do you think I inherited his talent?' she asked as she showed off a painting. 'You inherited a fortune,' I joked.

It's weird, the last couple of times I hung out at the place everybody was at their Sunday best. Today was different. It was a crappy day, the sun had left town by noon and the drizzle dampened our spirits and the cigarettes of those who smoked outside. Everybody was feeling down. It was shocking and I suddenly felt so sad for them. Joe, a struggling comic, walked around with his head hanging low, a big difference from when I last saw him rehearsing Steven Wright jokes for a one-man show at the clubhouse. He wouldn't talk and carefully placed his plates in the dishwasher and walked away. I guess his Friday stand-up comedy routine hadn't panned out well.

There was another sad scene played out after dinner. One of the clubmembers was telling an attendant that he wanted her to be a special friend, a friend he could 'just hang out with.' Even after she reassured him that she was already his friend, his insecurities continued the line of questioning. Will you remember me when you leave? Are you just saying you like me only because it's your job? Do you really like me? He clutched her hands and looked at her for a hint of acceptance.

'I feel like a cesspool,' he said. 'I want to kill myself.'

I found out if I can make these people laugh, make them feel better, then that is more important than the photographs I take.

I decided to take photos of the clubmembers with the following theme: everybody is beautiful. I wanted each one of them to select what they think is the most beautiful thing about them, whether it's their smile, their nose, their boob job...

I have decided to take my time with this photo story. I want to get to know them slowly instead of going in with cameras blazing; I guess it's sort of the difference between a love affair and a one night stand. When I heard Dan Habib say he spent three weeks getting to know his subjects I couldn't understand why, until I was blown away by the intimacy in his photos on Teen Sexuality. I learned also that intimacy leads to access which leads to stunning photos.

James Keivom

April, 1998

Behind the Viewfinder - A Year in the Life of Photojournalism
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