Photojournalist - James Keivom - Behind the Viewfinder

August 4: Learning to let go

I've learned to let go. Back in July 1997, I had a chance to cover the 500 year flood in Fort Collins, CO. I would have been one of two photographers down there had I taken a chance but fear held me back.

I was scared. I thought my car would be washed away by the raging waters and that I would be the news.

I couldn't forgive myself for missing photos that could have bought me a ticket to the big league. My four-month internship in Greeley, CO, was especially difficult because it was on the same road to Fort Collins. I spent much of the hour-long trips thinking about what I could have done and how my life could be different had I taken the chance. I must have carried that regret for 4,000+ miles.

But now, I realize I may have lost some photos, but I appreciate what I have learned in the last year anyway. I have let go. As Dan Quayle said, "We don't want to go back to tomorrow, we want to go forward."

And if that approach fails, I can always take refuge in the Brazilian idiom "Tudo Acaba em Pizza"(translated from Brazilian: everything ends in pizza) which dictates that all efforts to solve earthly problems only end up with someone ordering a pizza.

August 6: Why Not I?

I just saw "Good Will Hunting" and it made me think of how many people waste their talents and the opportunities that are thrust in front of them. I don't want to waste the next 30 years and wake upone day like Al Bundy, asking myself: "Have the neighborhood kids been right all along? Am I truly nothing?"

To avoid that fate I have formed a new motto spurred from tales of ordinary people who took chances and worked hard. When I think of all these successful photographers, writers, musicians and even the millionaire who invented the Koosh Ball, I think "Why Not I?"

Why not?

Anything is possible and we can be our own Make a Wish Foundation.

I think it's harder to justify failure than to explain the simple factors that contribute to eventual success: hard work, creativity, luck and passion. I think these attributes, plus a belief in yourself, are more important than any God-given talent. As Henri Cartier-Bresson put it: I wasn't born with talent, so I had to work.

As I near the quarter century mark, I panic as I read a passage from "The True Story of Ah Q" by Lu Xun:

When I was young I, too, had many dreams. Most of them I later forgot, but I see nothing in this to regret. For although recalling the past may bring happiness, at times it cannot but bring loneliness, and what is the point of clinging in spirit to lonely bygone days?

To steal from Bryan Grigsby: "Indeed."

August 8: Wow!!

I had been burnt out from shooting until I saw a couple of people playing beach volleyball in the setting sun. The players were kicking up dust that cast interesting shadows in the golden light. This was the first time I said "Wow" in months.

I spent a lot of time studying the light, trying to get a better angle that wouldn't introduce flare into the picture. I think these are one of the moments when a camera cannot capture what is in your heart.

Also wanted to share a cool poem with you. It's called "Wild Irises" by Maura O'Halloran:

creaking to the post office
on my rusty bike
i saw one purple iris
wild in the wet green
of the rice field.
i wanted to send it to you
i can only tell you it was there

August 10:

66 days and counting till "Chucky Gets Lucky" and three till Danny Bonaduce's birthday. Nothing new today except a quote from (I think) Bruce Springsteen:

"A musician, if he's a messenger, is like a child who hasn't been handled too many times by man, hasn't had too many fingerprints across his eyebrow. That's why music is so much heavier than anything I've ever felt."

I'd like to be like a photographer in that sense.

August 22: The OTHER Streak

I need a vacation. Not the "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" type, just a couple of days sleeping late, eating dessert before meals,...just enough time to put THE OTHER STREAK to rest.

It all started back in 1994, almost 1750 days ago, when I picked up a Minolta and joined the ranks of those who loved their jobs and, consequently, got stiffed on the paycheck part.

I've carried this metal albatross around my neck since that January day when I first walked into the college yearbook office and simultaneously fell in love with the treasurer and the Nikkor 400/2.8. I didn't walk away with either, but I was left with a passion to carry my camera everywhere and even endure the ridiculous stings of being called "camera man" by drunken college slobs.

I decided the streak had to end TODAY. I've been thinking, breathing and feeling photography every frigging day. No wonder I'm getting a little burnt out. Wouldn't you get sick of Cindy Crawford after 1750 consecutive days?

An old journalism school buddy was back in town on vacation from the Farmington(NM) Daily Times and I decided getting out of Boulder would be, like, cool, dude.

Before leaving, I was reminded THERE IS A GOD. I was saved once again by an alert oil-changing mechanic who discovered both the axles on my car were rusted out and that he didn't feel comfortable driving the car again, even to get it out of the garage.

I had originally planned on squeezing a paltry 900 more miles from my '81 Honda Accord but settled for just another 60 miles, "please God", after spotting five cars stranded on the highway to Denver.

I told Brett about the problems and he immediately put things into perspective: "We're leaving your car in Boulder." The car was ditched under a shady spot, my pager was put in storage and we were off, ready, like Vanilla Ice, to "take an un-cool world, and chill it to the bone!"

Leaving Boulder for another town was like falling in love with a new woman: refreshing. The ride south came at the perfect time, a time in which the images of Montana in "The Horse Whisperer" were still fresh in the brainstem.

Those amazing visuals(including the closing shot) flipped a switch and suddenly made me in awe of everything about nature. Everyday images like clouds hanging over the horizon at dusk or a woman picking flowers in the rain touch me. This awareness of the beauty in nature led to a sensitivity for the beauty of ordinary human moments. In short, I now sense quiet moments which I may have passed before.

I started off Eugene Richards' "Below the Line" documentary on the poor in America. I thoroughly recommend it.

I learned a lot of stuff not related to photography such as soybeans rank #1 in flatulence level, raw pork back fat has 841 cal/100 grams, Newton died a virgin, that the Karma Sutra terms "jade stem" and "pearl on the jade step" referred to jewels of a different kind. Found out I shared the same shoe size as Sinatra(size 11) and that Joe Dimaggio delivered fresh flowers to Marilyn Monroe's grave three times week after her death. I learned the tongue twister:

the skunk sat on a stump; the skunk thunk the stump stunk, but the stump thunk the skunk stunk.

        A couple of wrong turns led to a late arrival in Farmington. The town was pretty small, judging from the thickness of the Yellow Pages on the gas station counter. The billboards we passed revealed a strange sense of southern humor:
         "Ready for eternity? Do you prefer smoking or non smoking?" at a Christian church.
         "Come see a bad paint job by Mark" at an auto dealership.
         "Burger King, a great place to be."

A mid-day tour of the town revealed a barren landscape in desperate need of the following PhotoShop recipe: add some green, clone in some trees, erase the pock-like shrubbery and burn in the harsh sun. Almost acceptable.

The heat was unbearable. It would be too easy to make a habit of shooting from the comfort of the air-conditioned company car.

A feature-stop in nearby Aztec provided an excuse to cool down. Unfortunately, I picked a water fight with the wrong crew. Can you say "Custer"?

(Photos: Brett Knewtson/Farmington Daily Times)

I didn't do much that week. The banana cake in the fridge showed me the power of addiction, I lifted weights, saw a $65,000 Ansel Adams print in Santa Fe, sampled Colt 45 malt liquor and improved my Ms. Pacman scores at the Laundromat.

I feel oh, so fresh.

One of the first things I saw on a day trip to Santa Fe.

August 31: Telluride

Aerial view of Telluride from the gondola.

Something amazing happened on the rock climbing trip to Telluride. My appreciation of nature was heightened by wide-open spaces that made my wide-angle feel like a telephoto.

        By the end of the Day One, I realized climbing is a religion which requires complete faith in one person: yourself.
        I never thought I could pull my own weight up a mountain.
        I did.
        I never thought I would be able to conquer my fear of heights.
        I did.

I pushed myself to the limit, and then some. I'm not a particular lean guy, my belt has been getting longer and longer these last few years, but I found a deep reserve of energy and determination as I raised the Titanic up the fu*********** mountain. Things that seemed impossible at one moment weren't the next. I would be stuck at a particular rock face that seemed impossible to scale. And then....out of nowhere, I'd find a nook that allowed me to wiggle a little higher.

I learned that the fear of falling is like the fear of failure and the solution to both problems is to keep climbing, don't worry about falling and don't look down. What a sensible approach to life.

I made the mistake of eating a bag WOW chips and realized why Bill Maher of Politically Incorrect joked about Olestra's ability to cause "anal leakage." My experience made me think that OWW would be a better moniker and reminded me of the you thought PADS were better than WINGS until you had to leave a party with a sweater around your waist" ad.

After the climb, we checked out some of the pubs. I learned that making friends with the alpha-males grants you a lot of freedom to shoot without getting your ass kicked. I also realized I was comfortable in the company of strangers and that a sense of humor is a gift that can open the biggest doors.

We returned shortly after midnight and I slept under the stars for the first time. The huge rock face we had climbed earlier that morning looked so beautiful in silhouette. I felt safe.

I left my camera pointing straight up at the stars and rescued the exposure right before dawn.

I'm now refreshed enough to start the next streak and feel like Cal when he said, "I want to be remembered as an ironman, a player who went out there and put it on the line every day. I want people to say they couldn't keep him out of the lineup."