On Wildfires (and what NOT to do)

The wildfire season is here, and there are reports that officials are
already concerned about the severity of 2011 fire season. Some of the
photographers we've featured in the past here on TID are in full swing
of coverage.

The first time I covered a wildfire was a very frantic experience,
one in which I made several mistakes, yet learned an immense
amount from.

In 2009, I learned that there were out-of-control wildfires in
Myrtle Beach, SC. I went down to Myrtle Beach and was denied
at every turn. The authorities had blockaded roads and corralled
media into one main station at the House of Blues, which was doubling
as a Red Cross shelter.

I am a big proponent of going until someone says no – it's often better
as a photojournalist to beg forgiveness, than ask permission for access.
So when the police wouldn’t allow cars to drive into the major subdivision
being affected, I parked my car and began to walk in. I walked about a
half-mile to the main staging area for fire and rescue, where I asked
folks if I could ride along with them. They all referred me to an administrator,
who, unsurprisingly, said he wouldn’t allow media to go out into the field.
So I began walking back roads, past blockades toward the neighborhoods
closest to the fires.

I had never covered wildfires before. Hurricanes, tornadoes, floods,
riots – yes. But wildfires - no. I had read up from resources like sportshooter.com
on how fast, dangerous and hectic fires moved, and I knew I was lacking the
proper gear (I was wearing hiking boots and khakis). From covering many
hurricanes I know some of the subtle (and not so subtle) aspects of storm
chasing – the patterns, the situations, the warnings to watch for – and
understand that kind of knowledge only comes from experience. I have shaken
my head, muttering “Dumbass” under my breath as I watched naive, ignorant or
just plan cocky journalists wander off into dangerous situations after others
warned them not to.

I was not looking to be “That Guy.”

Nonetheless, I felt I had a job to do. I wanted to tell the story. I wanted to
make something. So I kept walking toward the huge plumes of smoke in the
sky. There are no words for both how dumb this was, and I lucky I was not to
get injured.




Packing up to evacuate.



It was very eerie – straight out of The Omega Man –
completely empty neighborhoods; some houses with doors still open, or
sprinklers running – trash cans on the curb, awaiting pickup. A low, thin smoke
hung over everything, like a bad Hollywood special-effect of a sinister fog. After
three empty neighborhoods in the subdivision, I came across a bundle of three
houses that had people still in them. I was met by a very friendly man named
Carl King, his wife Georgiana, and his mother Barbara. They were amazing. I
explained what I was doing and he immediately invited me in, gave me full
access to their hectic attempts at packing everything they could salvage into
a small car. They would not stop trying to feed me.

Here these people, perhaps about to lose everything, were taking time and
effort to make me more comfortable. They were amazing, and I am very grateful
to them for their kindness (and their water).





(They kept looking out of the blinds, watching the smoke and fire come closer)




After about an hour, I felt a bit less stressed – I had some decent images of
people reacting. The safe shots of fire trucks and smoke in the distance were
fine, but I had wanted to get something more. With the self-imposed pressure
lessened, I wasn’t in such a pressured mode – now I was thinking about
making images that shared the human element of the story.

I started the 3-mile walk back to my car, and was lucky enough to flag down
a police car relatively quickly to shorten the journey. It was like a scene from
“The Stand” as we zoomed through deserted, hazy suburbs at well over 80 mph.

Once I had transmitted the subdivision images, I started trying to get dramatic
fire shots. Again I was blocked at every turn. Police were not letting anyone within
miles of the active fire zones, and Public Affairs officers with the various fire and
relief agencies called in for the emergency were not allowing press to ride along.
After hours of driving around, trying to get access, I decided to take a completely
different angle: instead of chasing the fire and reacting to it, I would try to get
into a position where IT would come close to ME. I went to an overpass that
was blocked, walked up and scanned the sky for smoke. I noticed the wind
direction, got in my car and took back roads towards the towers of smoke, ahead
of where I thought the wind would drive the flames.

After about 45 minutes of this, I was on a dead-end dirt road with a very defined
tree-line. Huge walls of smoke were rising far in the background. Another journalist,
a TV guy with the same idea, pulled up and we chatted for a minute, sharing our
frustration over being denied by authorities. I remember he said “They are keeping
us so far away – all I have is smoke. If I could just get some footage of actual flames,
that’s really all I need.”

People in the neighborhood had come out of their homes – mostly trailers this far
back – and were watching the smoke, making videos of it, taking pictures. Children
were playing, trying to catch the falling, drifting black ash, which somehow struck
me as the opposite of snow.





Timestamp from my camera - 12:00:07




I asked some adults if they had a way to leave. They said they did. I asked if
they had enough room in their vehicles for everyone. They said probably. I asked
if they were thinking of leaving soon. Most shrugged. I began mentally figuring
out how many kids I could grab and squeeze into my car. A fire truck slowly
motored down the dirt road. I decided it was time move my car – 1) I didn’t want
to be in the way, and 2) I wanted to be able to get out fast, without having to
do a three-point-turn, reverse, or anything else. I left the keys in the ignition.
I wanted to be able to just jump in and go.





Time- 12:35:05




The smoke was getting closer. Bigger. And it was quickly changing color.

Finally, one woman began to evacuate. Once she left, several other families
took the hint and began to leave. It was obvious the fire was coming this way.
And it was very big. Two men with garden hoses began to spray down their
homes and the areas around them.





Time- 12:38:04




The three firemen with the fire truck started to unravel two hoses. My pulse
began to really quicken. We got our first glimpse of the flames – they were
as high as the 60-70 foot pine trees around us, with massive tongues licking
even higher. People started yelling, running into their homes, grabbing clothes,
photos - anything they could carry, throwing thing into cars and trucks. I
stood there and took photos. I was sweating. Smoke and ash stung my eyes.

Finally two more firemen showed up – without a truck. They leapt into action
and began helping those trying to evacuate last-minute. And I realized I was
being a leech. I had been just thinking about composition and moment. But
those people, they were not just foreground and background elements of an
image. They are PEOPLE. Yes, I had a job to do, but these people were
undermanned and they needed help. Now. I felt very ashamed that I had slipped
into such a state, so I dropped my camera hanging on my neck and began
running into the homes of strangers, taking whatever they threw at me and
running – throwing clothes and keepsakes into the back of vehicles.







In a matter of minutes everyone who planned on leaving was gone. I picked
up my camera again. I was with three men who lived nearby and one fireman.
We were on the western side of the road; I knew there were three or four
firemen on the east.

Suddenly, the light changed – the mid-day, harsh, bright light turned darker,
softer and a warm hue settled over everything. The smoke was pluming
above us, filtering the sun. The difference was very obvious and fairly quick –
looking at the timestamps on my images, a marked difference occurs in just
over a minute.




Time- 12:49:10




Time- 12:50:20



Then there was an amazing sound and I felt the air change – the wind
that had been blowing the fire toward us rapidly shifted the opposite
direction. The noise sounded like a combination of a giant vacuum and
a lion’s roar. Leaves and debris started blowing by me in little whirlpools
of air. I felt a chill as I realized the sound was the fire feeding; literally
inhaling the oxygen all around in order to grow. And then it was there,
right in front of us.




Time- 12:52:44



Again, I knew the change happened quickly, but with my adrenaline
pumping I didn’t know how quickly it really was. Timestamps show how
far the fire traveled in less than three minutes.




Side note - it wasn’t until I got home that I realized I do not have a
photo that shows the top of the flames - that’s how tall they were.



At once the air turned orange and thick – smoke and ash surrounding,
smothering us. The men started yelling. The flames were here, they
needed water. There were not enough firemen, so the local neighbors
manned the hose, taking directions for the firemen working the water
supply at the truck: ”Don’t start too soon! Spray low!” “Lower! You’re
wasting the water!” “It’s breaking through to your right – 3 o’clock!”
“Move, move – we need more hose!”













Again, it got to a point where I truly felt I had to put down the camera.
After making some images, I got on a hose, helping move it. I got on
my knees, straining to get it around stumps and other obstacles. I ran
between the two teams trying to help communicate directions. The heat
was amazing – it felt like it was radiating from everything.

The wind switched again. Suddenly, the fire wasn’t just in front of us –
it was now on both sides as well. We started moving back towards the
truck, and when I looked back at the flames, I saw rabbits running out
of the trees and undergrowth - at us, with us, past us. I was now very
scared and remember ridiculously thinking, “Wow. This just got really real.”

This image is when the fellow next to me realized the fire had moved to
three sides around us:








We got to a safer place and the water from hoses started to stall the
flames. I calmed down a bit, and stood looking at the towering fire. I had
to consciously tell myself not to cry. It wasn’t the fear. The only feeling I
can compare it to is when I was present as a friend gave birth. It was a
feeling that was completely overwhelming. I would call it supernatural,
but it was the exact opposite of that – it was a reaction to seeing something
so purely natural, so primal and powerful, the emotional response for me
was something immense. I’ve been through some scary situations- had a
gun pulled on me in the aftermath of Katrina, been in street brawls, tear
gassed, nearly drowned. This was different.

I would love to know how the other men felt. It would be interesting to see
if they were in a similar state, or if I was just being a drama queen – a novice
who was bowled over by his inability to grasp how huge and quick and powerful
this wildfire-beast was. But I didn’t have time to ask, as the fire had changed
direction again, and started toward the home of a family who had not evacuated.

This was a different experience, as women in the family started crying and
screaming. Family members began uselessly pulling at limp hoses that had
no water supply, and couldn’t reach as far as was needed anyway. There was
a bustle of activity as the firemen struggled to get the truck into a better
position. Again, I looked around at the young children wandering around and
wondered if I should start scooping them up and running with them to my car.
A fireman took control and began to order and physically move everyone out of
the area. I followed the families, terrified at the near certainty that they were
going to lose their homes, when a helicopter appeared, dumping water from a basket.







It was an insane symphony – the sounds of the flames crackling, the winds
howling, people crying, the helo’s rotor blades whipping overhead, men
shouting – all mixed with the sound of rushing water from the hoses and
the basket-drops.








I felt that if I stayed I would be more than a burden – I would be actively in
the way and a distraction to the emergency officials who were working at full
capacity. I followed a family to their car, made sure they could fit everyone
in, took some photos of the exodus, and then got the hell out of there. I
needed to mentally regroup, eat my first real meal of the day, and transmit.
I also wanted to call my dad and tell him I loved him.





Families evacuating.








The rest of the day I very much played by the rules spelled out by authorities.
I headed back to Myrtle Beach and stayed close by the shelter, taking the safe
and contained media opportunities offered by the Public Information offices.
By around 7 pm I got the message that the neighborhoods hit hardest by the
fires would most likely be open to the families around 9 am the next morning.
Just to try, I attempted to drive back into one of the areas I knew was hit hard.
More officials denied my entry, and I decided not to push my luck anymore
that day – I would start again the next, with my new knowledge and experience
a cornerstone of planning.

To summarize few of the lessons I learned from this experience:

1) Fires move insanely quickly and erratically. Rabbits, deer and cars cannot
outrun fire. A person doesn't have a chance. You cannot move faster than a
fire, you can only avoid it. If you do not know or understand how a fire moves,
do as much research as possible and travel with someone who does have
firsthand knowledge of what to look for in its movement and patterns.

Most bystanders do NOT understand how fast a fire can move. If you feel
uncomfortable in a situation, don't let others' staying hold you back. Get
out when (if not before!) you feel the need to get out.

2) DO NOT try to cover something like this on your own or without expert
guidance. Many of my decisions that day were reckless and stupid, and I
was very lucky. Read up, ask questions, work alongside and with those who
have experience. Another pair of eyes to watch your back and give advice on
developments can be invaluable.

3) Covering fires can be a very strenuous activity. Make sure you are eating,
staying hydrated, and at a decent energy level. If you need a break, get out
and recoup. Transmit, check out other images on the wire, look at maps,
etc. There is a LOT that can be done while you physically recharge.

4) Little things can make a big difference. Like my example with the car -
leave keys in the ignition when you get out of your vehicle. Not only do you
want to be able to jump in and go, but you also do not want to block others.

5) Know where you are (i.e. roads and routes), and multiple ways to leave. You
don't want to end up on a dead-end road, stuck behind other vehicles as a fire
approaches. Be aware of all vehicles that could be used in a quick exit.

6) Be safe, be true in purpose to yourself, viewers and subjects. That is so much
more important than an image.

PostScript: Since this story was originally written, Sportsshooter.com has
featured another great article by Rafael Agustin Delgado called
"Into The Fire" about safety in covering wildfires - A highly recommended read.


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Logan has photographed in over a dozen countries for a wide variety of
editorial and advertising clients. His images have been published in books,
magazines and newspapers all over the world, including: TIME, Newsweek,
National Geographic Adventure, WORLD Magazine, People Magazine, USA
Today, Los Angles Times, The Guardian (London), as well as on the front
page of the New York Times, Chicago Tribune, Washington Post and the
International Herald Tribune.

He's been recognized with several national and international honors and
grants, including awards in Pictures of the Year International, NPPA's Best
Of Photojournalism, the Alexia Foundation for World Peace, National Hearst
Competition, the Public’s Best Picture of the Year Award on MSNBC, and
North Carolina Press Photographers Association.

You can view his work at:

http://www.loganmb.com/



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Next week on TID, we'll take a look behind this wonderful image from
Johnny Andrews from a fashion shoot:



As always, if you have a suggestion of someone, or an image you
want to know more about, contact Ross Taylor at: ross_taylor@hotmail.com.

For FAQ about the blog see here:

http://imagedeconstructedfaq.blogspot.com/

Spotlight on David Walter Banks

TID:

Thanks for sharing your thoughts behind this image, David.
For the next couple of weeks we'll take a look at one image,
and where it fits within a larger set of pictures.

A perfect example is this picture, from your series
‘The Fourth Wall."









DAVID:


I used to put so much stress on myself during project brainstorming
that the thought process would become paralyzing. In my mind there
was no reason to start on a project unless it was fully formulated,
unique, and something that really excited me. The result was a lot
of thinking and writing and dwelling on ideas without any substantial
conclusions, and subsequently, no new project work.

After repeating this cycle for a while, I just picked an idea and started
shooting large gatherings of people who shared a common interest. It
didn't feel right, but it was better than siting on my hands. This image
was born from one of these early shoots at the end of a 'zombie walk'
in downtown Atlanta. After the hoard of zombies dispersed, I began
the hike back to my car, where I saw these two bloody-faced kids sitting
in a 50s-style diner and photographed it quickly in passing.

The rest of the images I shot at these various gatherings were all directed
strobe and fairly stylized, yet it was this image that continued to resonate
with me. At first I didn't know why, and so I kept coming back to the
photograph. Finally I realized that it was the human interaction with this
altered reality that interested me so much. After a few more revisions of
the idea and a lot of talk with my colleagues in LUCEO, my essay entitled
'The Fourth Wall' emerged from the ashes of the earlier failed concept.







(An actor playing Jesus stands with his arms outstretched greeting visitors
at the Christian theme park, Holy Land Experience, in Orlando, Florida. The
religious tourist attraction serves as a mix between a place for worship,
historic study, and a large scale three-dimensional stage for the daily live
performances.)




TID:

Lets talk in greater detail about the fourth wall, what it represents,
and how you approach making images for it.

DAVID:

‘The Fourth Wall’ is a theatrical term for the invisible barrier that separates
the audience from the fictional characters on stage. More often, the phrase
is used in reference to breaking that wall down.

As children with wild imaginations, we are taught that the world is separated
into reality and fantasy, fiction and non-fiction. These early teachings are
perhaps what plant the seeds of curiosity in pretending we are in a place or
time that we are not. In the 1950s, Walt Disney fueled this fire when he set
out to create a fantasy world that was designed and marketed not just to
children, but adults as well, paving the way for more like it. The Fourth
Wall explores these altered theatrical realities and our interaction and
fascination with them.

My approach for making these images is actually quite different from how
I normally go about making images. In other projects, and most of my daily
work, I attempt to put as much of myself as possible into the photographs to
the point that every image is almost a self-portrait in a way. I shoot very
objectively and work to create an intimate connection with my subjects,
whether it's a close friend, complete stranger, or even a place or object.

For this project, I'm trying to document these places as more of a sociological
study. I want it to feel as though the perspective is that of someone on the
outside looking in - almost voyeuristic in a way. However, I'm finding this
to be more and more difficult the longer I work on the project, the more
I feel connected to these fantasy worlds and that inner need for escape.







(Guests at the Atlantis Resort on Paradise Island in the Bahamas at one of
the many lagoon-styled pools on the resort's property. Themed for it's
namesake, Atlantis offers a complex with a water-park, aquarium, casino,
spa, six hotels, a fitness center, golf, shopping, a speedway, a night club,
and a plethora of dining options, all linked with an array of fake lagoons,
Atlantis encourages guests to stay on property. In fact, they make it kind of
difficult to leave. At Atlantis, you are literally offered complete immersion into
this surreal play-land for your entire vacation.)


TID:

How has the project shifted from the beginning to where it is now?

DAVID:

As I said above, the work evolved from a project tentatively titled
'Gatherings' in which LUCEO photographer Kendrick Brinson and I
were visiting mass gatherings of folks with common interests. This idea
eventually fizzled out due to lack of focus and direction. The photograph
above, titled unimaginatively as 'Zombie Diner' led me down a new path
of thought. That idea's first incarnation was tentatively titled 'False Identity',
and I began to visit these fake realities. The idea continued to grow but
connotations that came along with the words 'false', and 'fake', seemed so
negative and I didn't want to convey a sense of deceit in my viewpoint.

After a long talk with the LUCEO photographers at one of our bi-annual
meetings in DC, the new title and new direction became clear. It wasn't the
places alone that interested me, but the human interaction with these places.
From there, my purpose and what I was looking for finally became clear. I
say all this to emphasize that our ideas for what, who, and where we shoot
don't always need to be clear from the start. Sometimes we may have a
specific mission that we can understand and articulate before we ever make
the first frame, but other times it needs to be more of a natural evolution. I
also believe that we need to make use of our own photographic community
to better understand ourselves and our work, which can seem so unclear
even when staring us right in the face. It's hard to recognize when we're
wearing blinders.








(A trainer inadvertently mimics the behavior of the large cats inside the
Lion Habitat inside the MGM Grand Hotel & Casino on the infamous Las
Vegas Strip. This was shot during a trip to Vegas shooting exclusively
for this project.)



TID:


What goes through your mind when you approach making images for
the project - talk about the idea of the cracks as we talked about.

DAVID:

I'm looking for the sense of fantasy and the interaction of the 'audience'
in these altered realities. I'm looking to convey these places as trips to
another world, but I also hope to create punctuations throughout the work
focusing on the cracks in the facade.







(Tourists explore The National Wax Museum in Dublin, Ireland where visitors
are invited on a tour through Irish History followed by an odd mix of popular
culture ranging from fairy tales and music to horror films, all depicted by
magnificently crafted wax sculptures.)

TID:

What have you learned from this working on this project that you didn't
know before.

DAVID:

Through this project I've found that my real interest in photography is routed
in sociological exploration as much as it is the image-making. I've also come
to terms with the fact that for me so much of these explorations are to better
understand myself. As self-involved as it may sound, the images and the
projects become a self portrait. It's not that I don't have a profound respect
and interest in my subjects in their own right, because I certainly do. It's more
the opposite outcome, as this self-reflection deepens my interest and curiosity
with what I shoot. In a strange roundabout way, this project helped lead me to
my next piece that will be based on my hometown of Atlanta.


TID:

Since this project is self generated, what advice do you have for 
photographers looking to work on long-term themes where 
at least initially there was no commissioning publication?

DAVID:

You don't need anyone to give you permission to document life and create
art on your own terms.








(One of the mermaid actresses holds a finger to her mouth to hush the
crowd while performing Hans Christian Andersen's 'The Little Mermaid' in
the underwater theatre in Weeki Wachee State Park in Spring Hill, Florida.)


That's my passionate gut reaction on the subject, but it would be a disservice
if I don't also mention the practical side of it all. You can sit around and wait
for a great assignment, or commission, to shoot exactly what you want, but it
probably won't happen. You have to make it happen, and often times this
means to fund and operate on your own at first. From the very beginning,
though, we should be pitching these story ideas to editors and art directors,
and I think a lot of photographers will be surprised with positive results.
There are also a whole plethora of grant and competition funding out there
that should be researched to find the right fit for your project.

TID:

What sort of problems have you run into, and how do you 
problem solve?

DAVID:

I've approached this project from a more street-photography style, and
ended up mostly as an observer. I make no claim however that I'm not being
completely objective in the story I tell by the direction I point my camera and
the instant I shoot the image. This was a moment when one of these fantastical
places broke that barrier of the fourth wall and interacted with me. As I go
forward, I hope to look for more opportunities to directly interject myself when
appropriate.

Funding is definitely an ongoing issue for any photographer looking to
generate their own stories. In my opinion, there's no magic bullet, and it's
more of a cumulative effect of many different efforts. To solve this problem
I apply for grants, pitch the stories to publications in smaller bite-sized pieces,
and work to resell stock from the project. For each project, there's a different
answer and a different means of funding. I also look at assignment work as a
direct means of funding personal work, rather than just a paycheck. We
created the LUCEO Project Fund in which a percentage of each commission
goes into an account that directly pays for project work that lacks funding.
This way our clients know that they are helping pay for the work which
probably spurred them to hire us in the first place.







(This photo came from a beautiful wedding I documented at an old
plantation in Charleston, South Carolina, in a passing instant in time
between two destinations. The moral here being that you never know
when a piece of the puzzle will fall into place right in front of you.)


TID:

I love it when photographers think out of the box, and I think this 
is an excellent example. What advice do you have for photographers
to expand their mind?

DAVID:

I would suggest to look outside photography, or at least outside their realm
of photography. If you're a photojournalist, look at more art photography.
If you're a portrait photographer, look at more documentary photography. Or
look to film, music, poetry, contemporary and historic painting, or even the
social sciences. All this to say that I believe it's important to remind ourselves
that the camera is just a tool we use to express ourselves.








(I had been standing and photographing the statues and surrounding
stairs on two separate trips to the same spot in Vegas. Finally this
scene materialized right in front of me. I'm starting to look for more
specific ideas when I approach these places as I collect a growing pile
of images. For Vegas, one of the obvious ideas to look for was sin,
and the wild sexual behavior of average people.)


I'm looking for a range of different emotions when I approach these
shoots. I feel that it's important not to take ourselves as photographers
too seriously, and I feel the same way with this project, so I want to find
a little quirk. Never in a judgmental or insulting way, but in a lighthearted
shared humor. I believe my better half, Kendrick Brinson, has achieved
a mastery of the shared wink through her images in Sun City.







(This image was shot on my birthday of Kendrick Brinson in front of the 'Walk
Through Time in Georgia' exhibit at Fernbank Natural History Museum in
Atlanta, Georgia. Yes, I'm that much of a photography nerd that I spend my
birthday working on a project.)








SA young boy climbs one of the many painted stone statues at the infamous
South of the Border compound off of Interstate 95 in Dillon, South Carolina.
The massive billboard campaign lures travelers for nearly one hundred miles
of Interstate 95 with quirky messaging and a politically-incorrect stereotyped
caricature of a bandito. The Mexico-themed roadside attraction began when
Alan Schafer started a small beer-stand, conveniently located just across the
border from a dry county in North Carolina.








(An abandoned parking lot at dusk in downtown Helen, Georgia. The small
town presents itself as a re-creation of an alpine village complete with
cobblestone alleys, horse-drawn carriages and old-world towers. I try to
make images that convey a feeling, and this photograph offers me a quiet
exit from this fantasy world.)



For me, photography is an intimate and intricate part of my existence,
and I try to live what Sam Abell terms as 'The Photographic Life'. So I
compulsively document my own life on top of assignment and project work,
which oftentimes yields some of my favorite images and blends together.


A lot of what we talk about as photographers is not the way an image looks,
but how it feels. My ideal world, and what I strive to do, is to convey a
mood, as much as a literal fact.



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David Walter Banks (b. 1982) is an American born photographer living in Atlanta, Georgia. He is a conceptually based documentary and portrait photographer, and a founding member of the photographic cooperative LUCEO Images. His work is aimed at questioning the way in which we view the everyday reality around us. Banks was a finalist for the 2010 Magnum Expression Award, and was a selected artist for the Magenta Foundation Flash Forward 2009 and 2011 Census of Emerging Photographers. His work was exhibited at the 2009 and 2011 LOOK3 Festival of the Photograph, the 2010 LOOKbetween Festival, the Aperture Gallery in New York, the Houston Center for Photography, and most recently at Jennifer Schwartz Gallery in Atlanta and 25CPW in New York City. David’s clients have included The New York Times, Stern Magazine, TIME Magazine, US News & World Report, GQ, Forbes Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, People Magazine, ESPN The Magazine, The FADER Magazine, AARP Bulletin, Golf Digest, Spin Magazine, XXL Magazine, Sporting News, Bloomberg News and Atlanta Magazine among others.

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Next week on TID, we'll take a look behind this image from TID co-editor,
Logan Mock-Bunting, with some valuable words of wisdom on covering
wildfires:




As always, if you have a suggestion of someone, or an image you
want to know more about, contact Ross Taylor at: ross_taylor@hotmail.com.

For FAQ about the blog see here:

http://imagedeconstructedfaq.blogspot.com/

Spotlight on Brandon Tauszik

TID:


Brandon, thanks for offering to be a part of TID.
Please tell us about the image and the larger project
of which it's a part.

BRANDON:

"On May 21st, 2011 a wave of great earthquakes will occur,
like none our planet has ever witnessed. These will begin the
process of the rapture; as the chosen elect are taken up from
the world to meet the Lord in the air and be forever with God.
All who are without salvation will be left behind. Five months
later on October 21st, God will destroy the earth and all of
the remaining people…"

With this message Harold Camping reached millions of people
worldwide. Leader of the Oakland-based organization Family
Radio, Camping's prediction was backed by a global TV & radio
network, thousands of evangelizers, and countless billboards.
The featured image is part of my project Pray for Mercy, which
follows the organization prior to and directly after the failed
May 21st Judgement Day prediction.











Family Radio paid for a mass of billboard spots in most major
U.S. cities, as well as many other locations globally. Like most
people, I did a double take when I first saw one of the billboards
in early March. With a setting sun behind a silhouetted figure
praying, I was deeply fascinated by the endearing presentation
of the message, which boldly proclaimed the eminent destruction
of humanity.

After reading up on what the media was saying about Harold
Camping’s message, I had to do another double take. It was easy
for people to dismiss him as “crazy”, talking about vanishing
Christians and eternal fiery damnation, but 41% of Americans
believe what Camping believes will definitely happen at some
point in time. So where was the lunacy? In the fact that he set a
date? I feel like a large number of Americans began to privately
ask themselves some tough questions, while ridiculing Camping
and his followers.

All of this both confused and enthralled me. I wanted to take a
closer look at the people perpetuating this message and my
camera was the excuse to do so.












TID:

Where does this image fit in with the larger project?

BRANDON:

The featured image is of Scott Noble, a member of Camping's
congregation, standing in the empty Family Radio sanctuary
on Sunday, May 22nd. Approximately 2/3 of the photographs
in Pray for Mercy were made before May 21st, and the remaining
third made after. This image fits into the latter third of the
project and brings the whole story to a rather symbolic end.

In the image below, everyone wanted to know what went wrong,
(when the world didn't end) and small groups were huddled together
discussing dates and numerology while flipping through their Bibles.











TID:


How did you manage to gain access to this story?


BRANDON:

After a little research, I discovered that Family Radio and Harold
Camping himself were based nearby in Oakland. That really was
all the prompting I needed. I called up the Family Radio office
and was told I could attend the Sunday morning service and make
photographs. Camping’s congregation was meeting every Sunday
in a rented building, so I showed up for church one morning,
camera in hand. I shot during the entire service and then met and
spoke with people afterwords. The congregation was pretty
ethnically balanced, mostly normal, middle class, and conservative
in nature. Everyone was pretty amiable towards me, even when
I would get up close for shots. In general, my presence was all
but ignored so I kept showing up every week, as well as obtaining
permission to shoot inside their broadcast center.


TID:

What were some of the difficulties you faced, and how did you
handle them?

BRANDON:

This story (literally) had an expiration date on it the moment I
began shooting; There was this certain movement of people
preparing for this certain date. I wasn’t shooting for a school
project, wire, or publication so during the week it was often tough
to draw the line between work and work. There were aspects of
the story I wanted to capture as it unfolded, but simply couldn’t
make myself available. I would say initiative was the other
difficulty.

After a long night out, waking up early on Sunday to go
hear Harold Camping speak for hours was not the most desirable
option.

In all seriousness though, I don’t really have a close group
of photographer friends, so inspiration and initiative has to come
from within during self-assigned projects like this. The images
ended up gaining a lot of attention closer to May 21st, but for the
majority of the project I was just shooting for personal reasons.









TID:


Now, onto the image. Tell us what lead up to the image and how
you handled gaining access to it, and what was going through your
mind at the time.

BRANDON:

On the morning of Sunday the 22nd, it was pretty clear that the
rapture didn’t occur. I decided to pay a visit to Harold Camping’s
home before heading to the church building. I was the first journalist
to speak with Camping after the failed prediction and managed to
snap the image of him rather bewildered outside his home. He told
me that his congregation knew not to show up for church that day
and that there was no service planned. However after leaving his
home, I drove to the church building and found around a dozen
congregation members waiting outside.

I hung out with them for a while, soaking in the mood. Everyone
wanted to know what went wrong, and small groups were huddled
together discussing dates and numerology while flipping through
their Bibles. One of the congregation members angrily told me to
stop making photos and shed some insight on the situation, “what
do you think?” I didn’t mention that I’d just spoken with Camping
himself and as it became clear that he wasn’t coming to explain
himself to his own congregation, I felt some empathy as their moods
slowly turned defeated.

I noticed one of the congregation members Scott trying to get inside
the building. A door was unlocked and I saw him slip in. As much as
I knew he wanted to be alone, I followed him in about 10 feet behind.
He continued into the empty sanctuary and then stood still near the
front. As soon as he stood there, I saw the image in my head. I had no
idea how much time I had to capture the moment but I remember
wanting to make sure I exposed the image perfectly, instead of just
shooting away and hoping for the best. I exposed, focused, and
managed to make one shot before he turned around and walked away.





TID:

Was there any concern about you taking this picture at the time, and
if so, how did you handle it?

BRANDON:

As I mentioned before, people seemed to either accept or dismiss my
presence throughout the project. I knew Scott was trying to come to
terms with the failed prediction and was having a personal moment
inside the sanctuary, but he didn’t seem to acknowledge me as the two
of us stood there in silence. Throughout the project, I tried to train
myself to have a respectful demeanor, without appearing sheepish.
By the time this moment rolled around, I was confident in that approach.











TID:

You mentioned in a previous conversation that you learned a great deal
from this project. What were the lessons learned professionally, and
how did you grow as a person?

BRANDON:

As one of my first “real” photo stories, I learned a great deal while
shooting this project:


I learned that access can be easier to obtain than you think.

I learned that you must have a great deal of personal initiative
when shooting a project independently or on-spec.
I learned that captions are almost as crucial as the images, but a
powerful image may not need a paragraph of text to explain it.

I learned a lot about how to photograph people you don’t know.
All photographers I’ve asked about this have told me it’s something
you have to learn for yourself and I feel. I have grown significantly
in that respect.

I learned that publications still love photographs but don’t like
paying for them anymore.

Importantly, I learned that if you have confidence in the fact that you are
the photographer in a given situation, people generally won’t question that.
In Camping’s congregation no one gave me that title, but I took it the
moment I showed up with a camera slung over my shoulder.


I also think you have a certain degree of amnesty in your actions
as the photographer. I believe this is why it can sometimes be socially
acceptable to make photographs in situations like hospitals, conflict
zones, or during peculiar events such as this. When your subjects have
nothing to be ashamed of, a photographer is usually not seen as a threat.
Therefore I think Camping and his congregation saw no reasonable need
to be weary of me, as they were certain in their convictions.


TID:


In conclusion, what advice (think mentally) do you have for photographers
to gain access to these type of situations?

BRANDON:

Be persistent while also being respectful. People are busy living their lives,
and photographers are often just an accessory (or annoyance) in the context
of something larger. Stake your ground, be friendly, and feel it out. Also
challenge the perspective you take on the stories you shoot. Really think
about what you want to say about a given issue and capture that. Be
articulate with your images.






+++++



Brandon Tauszik was born (1986) in Chicago but raised in England. He spent his late teens and early twenties wandering through the Balkans, learning how to make photos and get into trouble. For two years Brandon then whiled away his hours in the Art & Film department at Invisible Children, a media based non-profit organization. He recently received an Associates in Arts degree, but has no formal education in journalism or documentary photography. Currently Brandon resides in San Francisco where he creates visual media at Sprinkle Lab while assisting Magnum photographer Jim Goldberg.


You can view more of his work here:

http://www.brandontauszik.com/


+++++


Next week on TID, we'll take a look behind this image from David Walter Banks,
a founding member of Luceo Images from The Fourth Wall series:





As always, if you have a suggestion of someone, or an image you
want to know more about, contact Ross Taylor at: ross_taylor@hotmail.com.

For FAQ about the blog see here:

http://imagedeconstructedfaq.blogspot.com/

Spotlight on Lexey Swall

TID:

Thanks, Lexey, for your time. Can you tell us about the backstory
of this image?









LEXEY:

First, let me thank you for asking me to be a part of your blog. I am
truly honored.

This picture was taken while doing a profile on Rev. Joe Williams. He's
a pillar in the black community in Naples. He is the pastor of Triumph,
the Church and Kingdom of God in Christ, one of three historically black
churches in Naples- it was part of the series I did a year before on the
three churches in honor of the 100th anniversary of the NAACP. The
reporter, Katy Torralbas, and I decided Joe was worth his own story. He
has raised children, grandchildren and, now, his great-grandchildren in
the house he bought in River Park community in 1961. River Park is the
first area of Naples where the black community was able to buy property.

I have covered River Park extensively through various daily and long-term
stories during the past eight and a half years that I've worked at the Naples
Daily News. I had never thought of putting all of these assignments together
in as a cohesive collection, but I realized after doing the story on Joe that a
portrait of the community had emerged in my archive. Since this realization,
I've created a spot on my website about River Park and when shooting there,
I've shifted my thought process to think about the neighborhood as the subject.
It's a work in progress at this point. It's not something I devote all of my time
to, but over time, I want to reflect all aspects of this community.









TID:

How does this image fit in with the River Park story?

LEXEY:

Joe is a main character in River Park. He's one of the few elders left
in the neighborhood who has been there since the beginning. He's kind
of the watchman, the overseer. I think of him as a front porch pastor.
As people walk or drive by they always wave to him, or people randomly
stop by to ask for advice. One day while sitting in his front yard with
him, a group of girls walked by, and turned and stopped to wave him
over to ask him a question.

One of the girls was pregnant and asked Joe if he thought it was ok for
her to have an abortion. He told her no. He said if she didn't want the
child, someone else would want to love it. As far as I know, she didn't go
through with it. He is a voice of reason in the community and a source of love.

TID:


Now, onto the image itself. Tell us how this image was 
made, and what challenges you faced?

LEXEY:

This image is of Joe and two of three of his great-grandchildren who
live in his home. Joe's granddaughter, Shaniqua, was the boys' mom. She
was killed in front of the boys by her friend's ex-boyfriend. The same
day, the boys came to live at Joe's home. Shaniqua also grew up there.








When we decided to do the profile on Joe, I didn't necessarily think
through all the scenarios I could photograph of him. It pretty much
turned in to days and days of shooting one scenario. Him, sitting out
on his porch or in the front yard. That's really the majority of his
life. I kept going back to the office telling my editor that I wasn't
sure what I was getting because every day is the same. Sometimes with a
story, I can plan strategically which days to shoot pictures by finding
out when stuff will be going on in the lives of those I'm covering. It
was impossible to do that with Joe because he didn't really plan
anything but church on Sunday. So, I would just drive by his house when
I had time. It felt a whole lot less like I was doing a story, and more
like I was just hanging out. I would sit with him for hours. Sometimes
in silence. Sometimes talking. I decided that was ok. It was more
important to be comfortable in his space and get to know him, than it
was to make a photo.

That said, when I did shoot pictures, especially on days when he sat on
the porch and not in the yard, I felt pretty confined to the area where
he was. If I went across the street, or too far in to the yard to
shoot, I didn't think the a moment would translate the way I wanted.
So, I would sit and hang out on or around the porch and wait for
something to happen.

That's how it was on the day I shot this photo. Thankfully, with the
boys around, it allowed for some spontaneity. I was looking for
something that showed Joe's character or said something about his life.
Whether it was how gentle he could be with the boys, or something about
him being the watcher of the neighborhood. The boys were in and out of
the house, playing in the yard and hanging with Joe as they waited for
their other brother to come home from school.











This image shows Joe exactly as he is: sitting on his porch, watching the
neighborhood with a phone in his hand in case he gets a call, or needs
to call the police if trouble starts. Also, it shows the boys watching with
him. I love how Eric, at left, is peaking out and Charlie, right, looks like
he's so cool, like he owns the place. I felt like this picture showed Joe's
influence on the boys.

Spending days with Joe reminded me to slow down and just be patient.
But, more importantly, I think it reaffirmed the importance of just
being with the people you're telling stories about. I know so many
things about Joe's life and how he feels about love and family. I'm a
better person for it.


TID:

This picture is part of a larger project, can you talk 
about your approach, in general, to working on this
(and with this - long-term projects in general)

LEXEY:

This picture is part of a larger project now. But, when I shot it, I
didn't realize I would be compiling all of my images from River Park to
create a larger piece. Since then, I've been trying to figure out how
to go back to River Park with an approach that will add to what I
already have. I've photographed marches in the streets, funerals,
church services, features, arrests and other situations — all for daily
assignments or stories over time in River Park — but there are
inevitable gaps when I look at the River Park story as a whole. Even
something as simple as images from various times of day. When shooting
stuff for daily assignments, they are rarely from night time situations.
But, if you're going to do a story about a neighborhood, it's an obvious
question — what does it look like at night? What events take place at
that time? I need to look at the neighborhood as a character, and the
people who live there are the distinguishing qualities of that character.
This is my challenge now.










Photographers who are working at newspapers should try to view their
community or subsections of the community in a longterm way, even if
they're just shooting a daily assignment. Sometimes, without perspective
it's hard to do this. That is the beautiful thing about spending as much
time as I have in Naples. I've been able to gain perspective on the community.
When I first started my job at the paper, my mind wasn't open to a possibility
of telling an overall longterm story about River Park. Who knows, maybe it
wouldn't have worked out if I had known it from the beginning. I have been
able to form bonds with people in River Park that maybe that could only have
happened over time.


TID:


What are some lessons you learned throughout this project,
and what has surprised you?

LEXEY:

Something I've learned is you never know who is going to be the voice
who vouches for you later. I did a photo column once on the ice cream
man who has been driving through that area for years. I rode in the
truck while he was going around the neighborhood and a few years later,
when I was doing the story on Joe, one of the girls I had met through
the window of the ice cream truck recognized me when she came to see
Joe. Because of that chance meeting before, I think she was more at
ease with me. The ice cream man has also happened upon me in the
neighborhood since that time, and because of our positive interactions
and the community's trust of him, it helps them trust me.

Every relationship is important and deserves respect.

Be patient. This should be the mantra of the photojournalist. I knew I
needed patience even before this project, but I'm constantly reminded.
I try to leave myself open to any possibility, so I haven't been surprised
by too many things.








TID:

Have you ever experienced any resistance to working
on this project within the community, and if so, how did
you handle it?

LEXEY:

I always got the impression that people in the community accepted that
Joe was worth a story. He is an important and a positive force in the
neighborhood, so, it was okay that I was there with him. When people
asked what I was doing they nodded like they understood when I told
them. And they all said, "he's a pillar." So, there was no real
resistance with the story about him.

That didn't always translate into letting me photograph the people
surrounding him in his life. His quasi-former-son-in-law lived with
him, as well, at the time. He would play cards or dominoes in the back
of the house, and he never really was okay with me taking his photo.
Never hostile or upset I was there, but seriously camera shy. I always
hoped I could wait him out and eventually, it would be okay. But, that
didn't really happen. There were a lot of people like that. That
doesn't mean I've stopped trying.


TID:

What has surprised you that you didn't realize before by
documenting the community?

LEXEY:

One time, a girl told me that if she ever saw white people drive
through her neighborhood in River Park, she thought they were
there to buy drugs. I don't know if what she is saying is true, but
that was her perception. It made me wonder what people thought
of me every time I drove in to the area.

I suppose this answer kind of goes with your last question, as well.
I've learned that I need to throw preconceived notions about how
people will react to me out the window. I used to think, "man,
they're going to wonder why a little white girl like me wants to
come in and ask all kinds of questions about their community."
I had a preconceived perception about what THEIR perceptions
of me would be. Does that make any sense? The point is, people
were open with me — more so than I thought they would be.
There are people I've talked to in River Park who I never ever
thought would give me the time of day based on the fact that
I'm a journalist and that I'm trying to cross cultural lines. It
sounds silly considering how diverse the country is. But, Naples
is economically segregated in a way that cuts a division between
races. This division made me think maybe people would be
skeptical of me. But they were open and willing to talk. Conversely,
I've covered people in other communities who I thought would be
completely open with me and would allow access, yet they are
seriously paranoid about exposure have been more than happy
to tell me to take a hike. 








One time I was covering a drug bust in the neighborhood and I received
a lot of verbal hostility from people as I photographed those who were
being arrested. It's understandable, but I just continued doing my job
and tried to talk with the people who I recognized. That was years ago,
long before this project was even a twinkle in the eye. If I had to
cover the same thing now, now that I'm more recognizable in the
community, I often wonder how people would react to me.

I think the more time I've spent there, the more people are okay with
me being around when things aren't going well. I've invested the time
during the happy occasions, so I hope many know I'm not just there to
exploit their struggle during the bad.


TID:

What did you learn about yourself in this process?


LEXEY:

I think I learned that I'm pretty shy about shooting. I notice it
more when I'm covering people who are from different cultural
backgrounds than my own. Not that I am MORE shy with people
from different backgrounds, I just NOTICE it more in myself. I
realize that there are still times, even after being in this profession
as long as I have, that I'm timid about raising the camera. I really
hate that about myself. Seriously. But, I've had to really learn to
listen to my gut and watch for visual cues of comfort in people
I'm photographing. I don't know if this sounds rudimentary, but
it's my experience. 







+++++

Lexey Swall is currently a photojournalist at the Naples (Fla.) Daily
News. Prior to that she worked as a photojournalism intern at The Star
Tribune in Minneapolis, Minn., The Star-Ledger in Newark, NJ, The Los
Angeles Daily News and at her hometown newspaper, The Bakersfield
Californian.

Swall graduated from San Jose State University in 2002 where she
received a Bachelor of Science degree in photojournalism with a minor
in women's studies. She also received an Associate of Arts degree in
journalism from Bakersfield College.

Swall has garnered awards from POYi and BOP, including an honorable
mention as Best of Photojournalism 2006 Photographer of the Year (small
markets) and several Florida state journalism competitions. She is an
alumna of the Eddie Adams Workshop (2001) and was a finalist for the
William Randolph Hearst National College Journalism Competition (2001).

You can view her work at:

http://www.lexeyswall.com/



+++++


Next week on TID, we'll take a look behind this image from Brandon Tauszik,
who documented the last days of Harold Camping's followers who believed
the rapture would occur in May:







As always, if you have a suggestion of someone, or an image you
want to know more about, contact Ross Taylor at: ross_taylor@hotmail.com.

For FAQ about the blog see here:

http://imagedeconstructedfaq.blogspot.com/