Photojournalist - James Keivom - Behind the Viewfinder

Oct 6: As he lay dying......

I learned "Hey Jude" on the piano and then watched a man die half an hour later.

I was in traffic, humming a Coltrane tune, when something to the left caught my eye. I turned and saw a man and his wheelchair pinned under a dump truck. His face was obscured by the blood that slowly soaked the sidewalk.

I thought he would make it.

I parked, grabbed my camera and got to the scene. I felt sick being there. I felt like I was intruding with my camera and not giving a dying man the privacy of his last few moments.

I saw what could have been a "great" shot of the truck driver crying on the hood of his truck as pedestrians helped the victim. It could have been a clip winner.

But that shot remains in the privacy of my own memory. I couldn't lift my camera. I couldn't just "go into shooting mode" like the other photographer on the scene because of the questions that filled my head:

        "Would I want someone taking a photo if this happened to me?"
        "What purpose does this sh**(showing a man dying) serve?"
         "If I was the driver, would I want my photo splashed all over the papers?"

I thought of younger shooters who brag about covering a "Code Black" car accident or proudly recount how they got "the shot" of a mother crying for her dead son. Call me a weak man, but I'd rather not have this kind of gore in my portfolio or in the paper.

The cops eventually told us to move behind the 30-bart perimeter. I obliged but another photographer gave the "It's my job" speech. Sometimes you got to give and take. We had our close-up shots. The body was not going anywhere. How many shots did she need?

I decided it was better to choose your battles so I crept back to the comfort of the police line. I was well away from the scene and my view of the victim was obscured by the fire truck.

A few moments later, a cop came up and told me to move behind the line. I complied and retrieved my leg the few inches it had strayed beyond the police line.

He looked down at me and said "Thanks."

What a prick.

I stayed long after the Hearse left, trying to get a photo that would tell the story in a dignified manner. I'm glad my editors chose the photo which didn't reveal the driver's face. Which photo would you choose?

Oct. 8: A sense of urgency

I have acquired a fireman's sense of urgency. On a couple of occasions, I have stumbled on moments that I thought would develop into something better. Five alarms would go off in my head, but I would wait, and wait and wait....
I changed this attitude after I saw Mike "Nick" Nichols of National Geographictalk about his shot of Jane Goodall and the chimp grabbing her head. He saw the magic unfold from a distance, and then RAN as he shot. He prayed that he wouldn't miss the crucial moment. He didn't.

Oct. 13: Feature Hunting

The folks at The Denver Post encourage freelancers to send in photos so I've spent the last five days looking for features and spot news. I've driven around town for hours, I've scoured the university campus, I've hung outside the supermarket pumpkin patch, and even smell of tree after climbing one for a better angle.

And what do I have to show for it?

"Jack squat."

A friend told me I was trying too hard. He was right. I gotta relax.

But what I won't do is raise the white flag on this feature hunt. I am like the hopeless gambler, trying again and again until the slots line up. Here are the results of a recent feature hunt:

11.m.: You know it's a slow news day when Page One art is ..... a photo of the school mascot draped in Disco clothes. It would have been nice if the editor had told me members of the alumni association were clothing the mascot at 9 a.m., but **** happens. I spent an hour by the frigging statue and got a couple of shots of people riding by the beast. It was only when I was looking for another photo(below) that I noticed a woman running up to the statue.

1:45 a.m.: This guy was setting up concession stand tents before the University of Colorado-Boulder bartball game.

3 p.m.: I found this cheesy feature on my way back to the office.

Oct 13: Go East Young Man

I'm outta here. The bags are packed, the car's sold, the ticket's booked.

I've finally decided to take up my best friend's offer and move to an apartment that's a tuppence's throw from the action in Greenwich Village.

Friends warn me about the competition in New York City but I realize there are also more opportunities than in this $35/assignment market. I'd rather die in New York City than rot slowly in Boulder. In all honesty, though, I hope I don't end up selling "Rolexes" on the street or be a regular at the Three Card Monte table. Will you pray for me?

I am down to the basics. There's no greater freedom than being able to fit all your belongings into one suitcase and a couple of handbags as long as long as those baggies are filled with a couple of C-brand cameras and lenses.

I hope that the sequel to "The Secret of My Success" is about a photojournalist who went to the Big Apple, took every opportunity that was thrown at him and made it, selling "Rolexes". I'm not afraid because of a something I just read: "Fear is that little darkroom where negatives are developed."

I guess I should have listened to a June 12, 1998 e-mail from my friend: "You're wasting your talent in Boulder. There's so much out there waiting for you."

Thank god for the phrase "It's never too late."

Oct. 16: Gaining Trust

I couldn't close down my photo story on Eben G. Fine Park without documenting the lives of the alcoholics who survive from the residue of other people's picnics.

I met Eugene and his girlfriend Diane this afternoon. It was a bleak day, with traces of winter on my wiper blades and I was frustrated because fall has scared off most people.

I first met Eugene and friends when they were combing through garbage cans looking for a side dish for the trout they caught in the creek. We hung out the rest of the afternoon, and I discovered how resourceful they were when it came to survival.

I feel a strange kinship with these people, perhaps because I see the fine line that separate our lives. I envied the humanity that still survived after years of drinking. They care and look out for each other. Perhaps it is true that there is no greater love than the love between two drunks.

I stopped shooting and Diane asked me if I was going to take more photos. I thought she was disturbed by my camera, but she all she said was: "I get paranoid when people take my picture, but there's something about you that makes me comfortable."

I didn't argue with her.

Oct 17: Schwiiiiiing

It was a welcome challenge to photograph a three-hour fashion show after hanging out with mentally ill people and alcoholics for the last three months. You should have seen me: I was my own cheering section by the catwalk.

Oct. 18: Back to the Park

I went back to Eben G. Fine Park for the 25th time, still sifting through the narrowing possibilities of a tiny park facing the solitude of an approaching winter. I spent seventy minutes combing the park for ANYTHING. I found an interesting display of light and shadow as I was leaving.

I'm glad I'm gaining the mental edge to pursue a story, no matter how difficult or boring it is. I have explored every section of the park. I feel these relentless trips to Eben G. Fine Park are an exercise for future photo stories. I feel like Rocky preparing for the big match.

I've found out my mental strength is increasing. I'm more focused. I'm hustling for photos. Here are a couple of cheesy water shots:

A hot summer's day sent this man to the creek to cool off his head.

Guests at birthday party were systematically dragged and dunked into the creek.

The shot that killed my F4: I spent half an hour getting shots of kids jumping into the creek. I tried getting closer and closer with a 24mm to capture the splash. Next time, I'll borrow a waterproof rig: my Nikon only works intermittently these days.

A mother tries out a different approach during a portrait session with her husband.

Oct. 19: They're Everywhere....

If I had my choice, I would stay in the shower all day. There's no better place to think of how you are going to end your YITL journal.

My carpal tunnel syndrome has progressed to the point where I cannot even type or hold a pen. Not being able to write is like being in a strip-club: so many thoughts and nothing you can do about them.

        And who's to blame?
        Buttons.
        They're evil.
        They're everywhere.

In my piano, pager, computer, TV, VCR, remote, elevator, CD player, stereo, mouse, telephone and let's not forget, my cameras.

I can't avoid these things whose secondary purpose in life seems to be to send jolts of pain through my arms. I'm limping to the YITL finish line with two fingers and a bottle of Ibuprofen.

I now try to avoid buttons like Jack Nicholson tried to avoid the cracks in the sidewalk in "As Good As It Gets".

Help me Jesus?

Oct. 20: Eugene's Birthday

It was Eugene's birthday and I heard he and his friends were having a barbeque at Eben G. Fine Park. I hung out with them the whole day. Great people.

Funny thing I noticed: Boulder is probably the best place to be homeless. I envy residents of a local homeless shelter. During a recent visit, I was treated to the best meal I ever done had(all from local restaurants): lasagnia, meatloaf, potatoes, cookies and heaps of chocolate-cherry pie. I found out the residents had recently gone to an amusement park(which I can't afford), the theatre, a soccer match, a canoe trip.....

I was tempted to hand in my residential application.

Would write more but fingers hurt.

Eugene gets a birthday kiss from his main squeeze. This was good low-light shooting practice: 1 second, f2, 3200ASA. I bracketed the focus.

Oct. 20: Seeing in 11x17

Our paper's habit of printing photos 3" x 1.2" had a negative influence on my shooting, until I started making 11" x 17" laser proofs. My prior problem was shooting too tight so that I could the subject to show up on the small photo. But seeing in 11" x 17" mode makes a total difference in my composition and framing. I'm no longer try to make everything in the photo large enough for a small print. Capiche?

Oct. 22: Don't Look

I finally found what I was looking for by not looking.

I was parking my car when I spotted a child throwing leaves at her father under a beautiful tree. Thanks to David Labelle's advice(always have your cameras ready) and my new sense of urgency, I jumped out of the passenger-side door(the driver-side is jammed) and rushed to the scene. The "action" lasted for only six frames.

I rushed to develop the film and beat The Denver Post's deadline with minutes to spare. I hoped they would print it.

Oct 23: The Payoff

I noticed the red leaves above the fold as I inserted the quarter into the newsstand. Times like these, I wish the Post was a weekly.

I'm glad my feature hunt paid off some of the bills. I've shot some pretty gnarly features this week, a feature of a girl walking back to her dorm with bags full of groceries, comes to mind.

Oct. 26: This is the end......

It's time to put this journal to sleep, award myself a Scooby snack and get jiggy wit it.

It's been a heck of ride. Thank you for reading this far. I hope you enjoyed the last 5,000+ words. I close this journal with some words from Gordon Parks whose thoughts have been inspirational as the Rocky I soundtrack.

OK, enough all ready.

Goodnight John Boy.

Oct. 29: Money for nothing

        I just received an offer from the Boulder Weekly to work on a front-page photo illustration on college students who strip to pay off their tuition.

        They thought I was the perfect man for the job.

        Talk about being typecast.

Editor Richard Fleming said I was an easy choice for the assignment after my risque features on their "Day in the Life of Boulder" issue(September 4 journal). Now they're twisting my arm, getting a sexy model to pose for the shot and actually paying me a three-figure salary for my troubles.

Sheesh. This too shall pass.

Oct. 31: This is the end.......Pt II

He doesn't want me to thank him in this journal, but (his name rhymes with) Schlitz has been an inspiration from the start with his kind words and his devotion to this project. I'm glad I've had the opportunity to participate in this site. Writing is a world of instant replays and multiple camera angles, a place to analyze what transpired in my world of photojournalism. I'm pysched to be here.

National Geographic photographer William Albert Allard said "when you take a picture it's a matter of inches" between a good photo and a great one. I've spent the last ten months trying to shave off those inches. My brain is getting faster, I'm freer with my photos, I'm taking risks. And like Allard, I try not to go anywhere with pictures in my head.

There's a Zen phrase that goes a little something like this:

"If you meet a man who is a master swordsman, show him your sword.
If you meet a man who is not a poet, don't show him your poems."

If you are a photographer or photojournalist, I'd really love some feedback. Please send e-mail to keivom@rtt.colorado.edu. Thanks.

I'd like to thank Neil and Van, who come from the same mold from which perfect friends are cast. Thanks Deanna for lending me your camera. And to my family, I love you from here, half way to eternity and back.(No wretching please).

Ciao baby.

No animals were injured during the production of this journal.

Written on location in Boulder, Colorado.

Soundtrack Available on Hey Dude! Records

This journal is not a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, places or events is purely intentional.