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?

DWI traffic stop with St. Louis County Police Officer Fred Yaakub, Canon 5D Mark II, ISO 5000,  1/100 @ F2.8, photograph by Erik M. Lunsford

There is a new saying out there — 2500 is the new 400.

Okay, I made that up, but it’s mentally cementing quickly.

Let me take you back nine years when I was interning, first at the Post-Dispatch, second at the (Springfield, ill.) State Journal-Register, and finally at the (Peoria, ill.) Journal-Star. I learned by shooting film — primarily Fuji Press 200,400,800 — for two of those three papers. The Nikon F5 and F100 cameras still sit in a bag now, bubble-wrapped like some fragile ancient fossil awaiting exhibition in a museum. Only the lenses from that kit — a 17-35, 80-200, and 35 F2 Nikkor still are in the starting lineup with my current Nikon digitals. See back then, pushing 800 press film to 1600 was like dire need only, because it was grainy and you had to plug in the increased developing time on the old Noritsu developing machine. Generally, you shot either 200 outside, 400 in so-so, and 800 for inside stuff, and grain was a part of life. Then, just a short while after, I eagerly embraced digital from money saved while interning. I bought a Nikon D1, learned the ins-and-outs from Rob Galbraith, and started shooting assignments other freelancers couldn’t take because I had the ability to transmit on site. Noise in essentially ALL of the ISOs was a big problem, but color correcting became a completely new art in of itself having to coerce a Zen-like balance between green and magenta skin tones and cyan colored skies.

Years later, the D2h staff kits evolved into Canon 1D kits followed by personal Nikon D200s and company Canon 1D Mark II series cameras. Noise is controlled up until about 800, when things get dicey on both systems. All those years my mind slowly absorbed shooting technique, knowing how to expose the cameras without even thinking about it — an automatic reflex if you will — that just somehow works. People ask all the time — what exposure works best in this light or that light, this condition or that condition? Expecting an academic answer, I always say the same thing…oh, you know, whatever feels right. I don’t even know anymore — my mind and fingers work together automatically just like our respiratory system. It’s working, but you don’t even notice it. When I head back to edit in Photo Mechanic, I see what my automatic system was thinking. 1/250th, 6.3, under exposed a stop and metered on the highlights, or overexposed 1/2 stop, 1/125th 3.5 to bring out skin tones.

One of my editors keeps coming to me with the same saying — “Erik, your images are always too dark.” I keep saying, my mind and fingers meter the highlights — it’s automatic and it can’t be controlled. It’s ingrained from the early days of digital. Vincent Laforet does the same thing — he meters for the highlights to eek out the color and contrast. Just check his freakishly killer stuff.

Now, factor in the equation of new cameras like the new Nikon D3s or Canon 5D Mark II (and certainly whatever 1D successor is in the works) with high ISO noise control never seen before in the history of photography. ISO 6400 (!) 12,800 (!!), 102,400 (!!!) Un-friggin-believable, given that just a few years ago we were given digital cameras that completely eliminated the need for film in a newspaper workflow.

So, here’s the dilemma. All of these years in low-light situations we’ve learned to stand up straight, prop yourself against a stable surface, breathe in and gently exhale while releasing the shutter, motoring off a dozen frames at 1/8 @ F2.8 in the attempt to nab a sharp frame — or a frame that’s newspaper sharp (read, barely sharp). Now, that whole paradigm has changed. Years that we’ve feared to raise the ISO dial beyond 1600 due to ghastly noise are no longer an issue, and that has my mind in a tailspin general protection fault reading abort, retry, fail(?).

[Your shooting reflex] has encountered a problem and needs to close. We are sorry for the inconvenience.

As an example, using a 5D Mark II on loan from Canon in high-ISO territory made me pause on a recent DWI story assignment (see above). How do I meter @ ISO 5000 in a midnight street scene lit only by ambient streetlights. The mind has actually never encountered that scenario before — trust the meter? Is that even correct? Meter highlights here or better to average it out? It’s a mentally paralyzing feeling. 1/100 @ 2.8 in the dark. Who would have guessed? Check the LCD. It’s a vulnerable feeling having to rely on the camera.

Thankfully, photographers generally adapt. It’s only a matter of time, really. When the paper hopefully cross my fingers upgrades equipment, I’ll be shooting full time with this new high-ISO equipment and pushing the ISO to 6400 and such will become commonplace. Now the only question to ask myself then will be: ” how did I ever live without this?” which is ironically the same question asked after moving to digital, and after Fuji Press came out, and after autofocus came out, and autoexposure, etc, etc, etc.

“The paradigm for photographers today is that you just can’t be, you have to be sort of a jack of all trades, you can’t just specialize anymore,” said VII Photo Network photographer Benjamin Lowy, featured by Kristen Joy Watts this morning on the NY Times Lens photoblog.

Lowy strikes the perfect chord, and from a newspaper perspective, it’s easy to agree with him. One day you’re shooting a story on industrial pollution,  the next day you’re shooting fashion at the Ritz-Carlton, the following day you’re shooting video and filling a request to fix a 400mm Canon lens (well, that may be an extreme, but it’s plausible as you can see).

Specialization of personal style has its place, but I also believe now — contrary to thoughts in my early years of photojournalism– that you sometimes have to “tailor” your style or look to a particular assignment, or better yet as Lowy explains it:

“I tailor how I see, and I let each situation I’m in impact my eye and the way I work.”

People I meet on assignment always ask me the same question. “What kind of pictures do you take? Sports? News?” I have the same answer every time — everything, and anything, or if not still pictures, then video or audio gathering. Call it a one man band like one of those poor broadcast saps who do standups on their own sticks, but that’s the direction this industry has taken, for better or for worse. Either way it’s a win-win for the photographers. We’re more versatile, creative, and attractive to potential clients.

“The time has passed where, you know, the photographers of the last generation were able to really get into a niche, and I think today we need to be able to do a little bit of everything, and that doensn’t water down the preciousness of your work, it doesn’t water down your vision.”

Via Click and the NY Times Lens photoblog.

Twins, St. Louis, Missouri. Photo by Erik M. Lunsford

Heaven sent, there are so many great comments on photography and life these last few days. As I juggle multiple personal commitments at the moment, please enjoy.

Alex Majoli at The F Blog.

“I say: “take some pictures.” And they reply: “of what? why?” So I’m taking a picture of it and they like it and say: “No! but you’re a good photographer!”. My answer is: “No I’m not! I’m just taking pictures, while you don’t!” It’s always like that! They need to have a big story, they need to go to Iraq to take a pictures. C’mon take a picture here!”

and more Alex:

“We should think of a photographer as a Samurai who makes rituals, moves and gestures in order to develop his techniques and his instinct.”

Matt Slaby on Luceo’s blog.

“I’m writing this as I’m about to step outside to do my gardening.  Which is turning into an interesting Holga project, slides of all the plants I’ve been growing in my yard over the past few years.  The thing about all this technology that kills me is that you gotta draw a line between your real life and reporting on your real life.  This stuff makes for an interesting lens on our lives but, all things said and done, I’m doing my best to keep it balanced.”

Alec Soth at NYTimes.

“I’m famous for sweating when I photograph people, which doesn’t seem to happen when I’m photographing landscapes,” he added. “My own awkwardness comforts people, I think. It’s part of the exchange.”

Carl Kiilsgaard on Facebook

“Fuck a digital SLR…my p/s now owns my world.”

(I agree, I love keeping a Canon G10 around my neck)
Michael McNamara on Sportsshooter

“Nobody got into photojournalism for the money…it’s something we do because we love storytelling and photography. But like any relationship, that love is not unconditional, and when you don’t feel it coming back, it gets harder and harder to put forth the same effort you once did.”

Jörg Colberg on his Tumblr page.

“A book publisher telling me they’re now charging for formerly free review copies. Should I write back and tell them I’m now charging for formerly free reviews?”

David Carson at Pictures:

“My job is better than yours….most days.” (note inflection)

Max Bittle on Whimsical Whatnots:

“confusion is fun, but at the same time drives one insanely mad.

what makes someone good?

is it the quality of work? maybe

their attitude? maybe

their friends? maybe

their awards? maybe

their looks? maybe

so so so confused……….

i don’t get the system, like at all.”

and the best of all, the JLP bible, courtesy of Aphotoaday.

“If you are not having fun then what is the point. Surround yourself with good people, work hard, and keep things personal.” (many more where that came from)

Flower portraits from the book Intimacy by Joyce Tenneson, used with permission.

Portrait photographer Joyce Tenneson lectured recently in St. Louis. At the risk of sounding selfish, she spoke at the perfect time. Staying visually motivated on assignment had become increasingly painful. I critically needed to hear the language of photography, to soak in the liquid inspiration. I needed a calming presence. I needed reassurance that photography is and will continue to be a tangible form of beauty that communicates to use on a visceral level.

At Joyce’s presentation, she spoke softly, charismatically, warmly. Her voice summoned tranquility. She weaved in personal and commercial work, each carving their own lyrical themes. Near the end, she presented photographs from her book Intimacy: the sensual essence of flowers, featuring beautiful and trance-inducing portraits of common and exotic flowers. It was arresting, graceful, and seductively serene. At the end of her lecture, I bought a copy of Intimacy. She wrote my name and “Blessings” on the inside cover. Thank you.

Several days later, I carried a heavy burden of frustration home from the paper. It had been especially hard persuading editors on several visual ideas. I remembered what Joyce said about compromise when photographing pieces that pay the bills. I lamented for my personal work. Late before bed, I opened Intimacy again and paddled along the pages like a canoe on a silent lake. Around me, the world hushed. I dived into each photograph and studied every detail. It was a truly hypnotic experience. I immediately felt visually refreshed. The pages lapped up frustration. I sensed that calm, confident, and assertive self. Visually the flame of passion grew.

It seemed so surreal. How could a simple subject such as flowers be so entrancing, so magnetic? Energy flowed from the crisp pages. Remarkable, I said aloud.

So simple, so perfect.

If you have had the opportunity to review Intimacy, I would love for you to share your thoughts. If you have not yet, I strongly recommend picking up a copy. It is a small and unobtrusive book that is certainly well worth a part in your collection.

There’s a reason I won’t wait outside of stores at 4 a.m. or stand in line at the checkout on Black Friday. First, I’m parsimonious. Second, I’m easily agitated at busy stores. Although, there’s a dirty little secret that’s hard to hide. I would quickly throw my miserly means out the door and stand in line for hours if a retailer slashed the price on a nice piece of Nikon equipment that I really wanted. Maybe the road goes both ways. Below are large screen televisions waiting new homes at Sam’s Club on Black Friday in Chesterfield, Missouri, and long lines at the Target checkout in Kirkwood, Missouri.

An American Diner, West Palm Beach, Florida

As photographers our visual “blades” becomes dull and edgeless over time. Compositions become lazy and we justify average photographs.  In the field we’re not focused as precisely on elevating the style. We’re either stretched in multiple ways to develop new content with new mediums and deliver it at breathtaking speed or we’re distracted by a variety of challenges, obstacles, and requests by editors and clients. It’s remarkably easy to lose concentration behind the lens.

Sometimes that knife needs honing. Attend a workshop, register for an online tutorial (NewsU is good), practice a non-photographic hobby, or set aside time to study the photography of fellow photographers.

Yesterday several coworkers and I went to a dark conference room at the paper and judged the VNPA monthly clip contest. We judged photography from large and small circulation newspapers in separate categories. We discussed images for hours, pouring over the subtle details and making discussion points back and forth on the various merits. I might as well have spent four hours sharpening my knife on a stone bench. Mental frustration and tension slipped away. For those precious minutes I breathed the pure air of inspiration, and oh was it sweet.

While there was an equal mix of good and bad photography, each image emoted a unique quality upon itself — that of the photographer’s vision and storytelling quality.  It was hard to assign winners because each photographer’s creativity and vision illuminated the selects. Some images lost only because they were categorized incorrectly. Others were a technical failure. Most were bread-and-butter newspaper work. The main theme stressed was the need to push these images further. A small crop, a slight move to the right — little things that we need to be actively processing on assignment — can turn the work from average to outstanding. Nevertheless, the judging further strengthened my belief that the power of the still photograph has a lasting and tangible beauty that can hardly be equaled. Congratulations to those that lost. It’s time to reanalyze that image and take that wisdom to the next assignment.

His recent post, “Wear Good Shoes: Advice to young photographers” is outstanding. And it’s outstanding because Alec collaborated with his colleagues to produce the article and because it’s in a convenient PDF download to print out and keep in your pocket for easy reading during that next story budget meeting.

So, which photographer’s advice plucks your strings? I like Thomas Hoepker’s advice for young photographers the most because I followed — heedless at the time — a similar path. Thinking back, earning a non-photography degree was the best decision I made, not because I think photography schools twist your mind, but because I developed my own sense of style and vision by finding great photographers and great artists to study on my own terms.

Avoid all photo schools and courses. Most will give you lofty ideas and twist your mind in one direction. Find your own way to photography, nobody will ask you later if you have a diploma. Visit as many museums as you possibly can. The images you see (painted, drawn, etched or photographed) will stay with you for the rest of your life. They will help you to discover good pictures in real life. Suppress any silly ambitions of becoming a great artist. Being a good photographer is difficult enough. -Thomas Hoepker

Now, the responses for wearing good shoes can’t be emphasized enough. Every six months I wear out two pairs of shoes — one pair of New Balance tennis shoes and one pair of Doc Martens. My feet hurt and the soles are thin by the time I walk in the shoe store. It tells me I’m working hard. It would be better if I wore them out in three months. That would say I’m working even harder.

But in the minds of many print photojournalists, TV’s justifications for setting up shots represent a slippery slope – one that starts with the relatively innocent staging for editing purposes, but can eventually descend into changing the nature of the story.

Melissa Lyttle and Heather S. Hughes weigh in:

“Who let them (video) into our clubhouse without making them play by our rules… namely, having some ethics?” – Melissa Lyttle.

Well said. As we are constantly asked to produce more and more visual content in the medium of video storytelling, it is crucial we do not let ourselves ethically slide. We’ll have to work even harder and focus our priorities to manage all these new tasks; but we cannot — and I stress cannot –  take even the slightest shortcut for saving time or making the process easier. I’m curious to know if any print newsrooms are ethically eroding as they mature with video.

i’ve been trying to use my days off to actually relax for a change. it’s been a hard thing to do. after the first four hours, i get bored and anxious that my story is suffering and wish i was at work. if i work though, i feel burned out and wish i could just stare at a wall for four hours. a frustrating place to be. i’ll figure out the balance eventually.

Yes, it’s easy to get bored when you’re off — you think about pictures and what you’re missing and the sense of urgency to get back in the field. However, it’s crucial that you take plenty of time to slow down and relax. Plus, make sure to sleep enough. The combination of sleep deprivation from activities like late-night blogging (uh, wait, that’s what I’m doing right now) and the constant “on” attitude can really get us into trouble when shooting during the day. In more extreme cases, try to shut out anything photo for awhile and find a new topic to munch on when you’re keeping the couch held down to the floor. It works surprisingly well for me and I generally head back to work feeling refreshed and excited for the day’s activities. What are some other ways in which we all find that perfect balance?