uncommons

Payson Park, Martin County, Florida, January 2005, Photo by Erik M. Lunsford/The Stuart News

Every so often I take a stroll through the archives, combing for images that help me remember who I am as a photojournalist. It’s like taking a walk through your own garden. You are captivated by the specimens that have grown with you. Some are prized, others aren’t. All speak in their own language of beauty because they each have a unique characteristic that led you to plant them in the first place. Occasionally, either through ourselves, or others, we sometimes lose sight of that beauty. These days we’re constantly pressed for time and production, and the language of newspaper photojournalism– or better said, the natural order of newspaper photojournalism — has evolved into somewhat of a numbers game. If we do x amount of pictures then we can translate that into y amount of hits. Or if we do x amount of posts, then we’ll get y amount of  following. Are we really serving readers that way, or are we hoping to maximize revenue? Clearly the bottom line is, well, the bottom line, and it has to be a sustainable business model. That’s understandable, and if we need to do a lot more to maintain revenue, then count me in. I want the ship to sail, not to sink.  The issue I see, however, is what happened to the language of composition, lens choice, use of light and color, or mood? When was the last time you looked at your edit and said to yourself — damn, I should have moved a little to the left or a little to the right, or how did I miss that light that was right in front of me? I sense a chilling grip of “good enough” these days, and that’s absolutely unacceptable. It doesn’t matter the medium of which images are communicated through, but rather the intrinsic value of the photograph and the art itself. Newsprint may well evolve into tablet e-readers or mobile applications — it doesn’t matter, we all move forward with technology. I have no doubt that photojournalism — and photography as a whole — will stand the test of time. Video has its place, but photography has the power to visually arrest.  The recent tragedy in Haiti has unequivocally proved this. But has it become by and large a commodity of which only a few players — the elite photojournalists — are prized anymore, other than contests, for their specific style and work?