Photojournalist - Lara Hartley - Behind the Viewfinder

February 3, 1998

There are few things that are more frightening than dating. Especially if one is out of practice.

But from experience I can say that being a photojournalist or freelance stock shooter is hard on Relationships. I found that not many men want to take a back seat to the "work". Not the job, but the work itself.

I first define myself as a photographer; not wife, nor mom, nor girlfriend, nor woman, but shooter.

There is so little energy left after working 45-60 hours a week, that I didn't want anyone around demanding more of what I don't have to give.

When I was married I was really only happy when shooting, or on the road to go shooting. I knew what made me feel good and that was the adrenaline rush of work.

My ex-husband was pretty understanding about the need to shoot, would always backup the car when I wanted him too, but family and money pressures forced me into a series of part-time jobs in addition to freelancing and I always felt thwarted in my efforts to just learn more and do more shooting.

Long story short - - - I got divorced, went back to school for my degree in broadcasting, kept freelancing. Met a new fellow, lived together almost 5 years, planned on getting married again.

Only the Significant Other couldn't understand why I didn't want him telling me how to set up a shot ( stock, scenics and studio stuff) and just wouldn't understand why I didn't need him to tell me where to put the bloody tripod!

Said he had an aesthetic eye also.

"Ok, so here is a camera for you to use so exercise your own aesthetic eye and leave mine alone," says I.

'Nother example of why I didn't take men along to shoot.

"Stop the car I want to shoot." says Lara

"Why?" say EX-Significant Other, still driving.

"Because I need too" says L as we get farther away from most excellent moment.

"But I need to get back to the loft to do my workout." says muscle-bound SO.

"F*ck*! screams L.

"Ok...shall I back up...at least a mile or so?" says pouting SO.

"No, that's ok. It's too long gone." says L "So...what's for dinner?" says SO.

AND..

"Are you getting up to hike into that site with me this dark early a.m. like you said you would to carry the heavy stupid studio tripod because you won't let me buy a lightweight travel one?" says I.

"Not this morning, I have a headache."

Right. "When have we heard *that* before.......dear."

AND

"What do you mean you want to wait here for that train that you hear WAY off in the distance so you can take a picture? It is hot out here in the Mojave." says SO.

"Because you idiot, that picture is going to sell well and be the lead art in an article I am going to write to help support myself after you leave me for a younger woman who is also into body-buffying-up and has a voice so high that it hurts your ears and that you deserve to wake up to listening to that for the rest of your life; telling me all this three weeks after we find out my mother is dying, you ass!"

So...

...there I was single and enjoying it mostly. I could move when I wanted, didn't have to share my living space with anyone (read NO housecleaning when I didn't want to) and I didn't have to cook.

The only problem was that every once in a while I wished I had had someone with me, eating burritos and sitting under that big trestle waiting for the train that I heard. Someone that would go "WOW! what a cool train" with me...

Lara Hartley

"The first night alone is always the hardest." lh

February 3, 1998

Iowa rails The Boone & Scenic Valley Railroad "Wolf Train" crosses a high bridge near the Des Moines river.