A pondering Greg Lovett (left) and Mark Edelson (right) along with one unnamed intern in the back. One of the last frames I made on my film Leica M6, West Palm Beach, 2007

I know, I have been gone for quite some time from this blog. I have just been extraordinarily busy and unable to prioritize my time. For the greater glory of God my work has been exceptionally busy and rewarding. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet to many of my friends, but in addition to my full-time editorial newspaper and wedding work, I have joined the faculty of my alma mater, Saint Louis University, as adjunct professor of photography. I will be teaching photojournalism to bright eyed photography students who are eager to learn the craft.

Although, I’m going to digress for just a moment, because I’m procrastinating on a shoot and staring at my dusty Leica M6 next to my iMac. It’s sad, really, it doesn’t even have a strap on it. I yanked it for one of my strapless Nikons a few years ago.

Let’s go back in time. I bought this camera at the height of my photographic youth — I was freelancing almost full time in school, money was good and I was living in the dorm off debt that loomed only after graduation. I knew photojournalism was my path, knew it without a doubt. I wanted the true reportage camera, a Leica M. Post-Dispatch staffers had ‘em, one even used his on assignment, which I thought was pretty hardcore. Much like other photographers, I pictured myself using an M on my daily work– obviously these were the days before corporate took over in papers and you didn’t mind using your own gear because you knew they’d find the cash to fix it if you broke it.

A few months later after stashing some cash, I walked into the now-defunct Jefferson Camera in St. Louis — the only Leica dealer in town, if I remember — plopped down a stack of bills, $2750 if I remember right for the M6, and 795$ (!) for the Summicron 35mm. I was thrilled, until I realized that I hated the .72 viewfinder because of my glasses. The next day I swapped it for the .58 and since then photographed happily ever after.

I shot a story with the little camera about a struggling catholic girls school. It was a wonderful adventure using nothing but the little rangefinder. I traveled through Europe with it, got my first scratch on the lens exterior while running to make a train. I loved it. The images burned onto Fuji Velvia just sang. It was, in essence, a precursor to my love of color.

Slowly, the red dot faded away (no, not literally) and digital made its permanent foray into my shooting. For a long time I shot the Nikon D1 for my freelance work, which was replaced by a D2h, then D200s, and now D700s. The Leica lost its PC cap, lost its strap, grew furry dust and lived in a domke bag that I took only when I traveled.

The Nikon D700 is a fabulous camera — it really is, don’t get me wrong –a full-frame chip, gorgeous color, unbelievable dynamic range and extraordinary ISO. My Nikkor lenses, notably the 24-70 2.8 and 105mm 2.8 macro are just stunning…unbelievably sharp to a fault, and contrast so yummy you can scoop it with a spoon. It’s pretty much everything I want in a digital camera. It replaces film — no, wait — it exceeds film a hundred times. When was the last time we pushed film to iso 6400?

Meanwhile, the Leica sits — I removed the battery years ago so it wouldn’t corrode.

Remember when Leica almost lost its shirt a few years back? The M8 was a disaster (what’s up with that shutter click?) and the product line pretty much stalled at the M7. I assumed all I had left was a collectible.

But now that tide has changed — Leica is lurching forward with the M9 and S2 cameras. They have introduced new lenses and reached out in social media. Suddenly, Leica is back in the black, thankfully, mercifully.

Here’s my dilemma — I feel like I’m done somewhat with digital. I know, I know…why? It’s just that — it’s perfect, instantaneous, beautiful, expressive…but it lacks something — something inherent, tangible, a delayed sense of gratification, perhaps? Digital wasn’t a descendant of my time in the darkroom and early photographic years, it lives in its own parallel universe. I don’t hold prints in my hands anymore, haven’t tacked one up on the wall with a thumbtack, haven’t left a fingerprint on the finish.  I control digital traffic nowadays, in the ‘cloud,’ on external drives, in folders, moving and directing and blowing my digital traffic whistle. It’s not the art, not the feeling, it’s the flow of digital content.

McCurry has it right. Are we going to look at hard drives forty years later? I can’t keep a hard drive around more than five years without it clicking to death. I constantly move pictures around, like snow in a snow shovel, but it just keeps piling up. Can you believe I have only two bins of negatives down in our cedar closet in the basement? They have our wedding negatives, negatives of my parents, grandparents, future wife-to-be. They glow when you look at them in the light, and they are the memories that I forgot existed (except the wedding, ahem…)

I miss film, really. But here’s the problem —  have you seen the prices for Leica gear these days? My same 35 F2 is $3000 (!!!) and the M7 body is $4600. SERIOUSLY?! I’ll never be able to replace that, come on. I have college debt, a house in Florida left over from the housing boom, and these pesky little gnats called bills. I’m married, we have aspirations — a D700 at $2500 for the business we can handle, because that’s used for business purposes, but an M9 for $7000…no way, no, can’t happen.

What to do? I want to shoot some film, process it and share the prints around the family table.  But why carry my favorite M when I know I can’t replace it if it breaks? A little point and shoot I can eat in the wallet if my nephew spills soda on it.

I guess that’s the curse of this little film camera. I can’t really use it, but I really want to use it. Why risk it, even though I never plan to sell it. It’s going to be one of those things my future kids might fight over when I’m dead, or maybe they’ll just sell it to the lowest bidder and the legacy of my own photographic life — or at least what has become my cherished photographic possession, will fade into the hands of another. Or heck, will there even be film then? Because when it comes down to life’s moments — a baby is born, for example, which am I going to turn to — the contemporary digital camera, or the old film Leica? Your heart says the Leica — I know it does, but really, we know it’s going to be the digital camera because it’s easy and it’s far superior to film — right? So has my M turned in to a paperweight, waiting quietly for an emulsion revolution? I think it has, because I sadly can’t afford the price of that luxury anymore. That’s the curse of this little film Leica. Maybe it would have been better always wanting it, but never actually having it.

Portrait of Pat Jordan, photo copyright John Loomis Photography & used with permission.

“Mr. Jordan like most journalists (discounting of course broadcast “journalists” who haven’t qualified for that distinctive title for, oh, well, 30 years) does not like to have his picture made, even though the dude is in ridiculously good shape. It’s an ego thing, a mistrust of how things end up feeling once they leave the careful control of scribblers and shooters into the morass of editors and account reps along 6th Ave.”

New York and South Florida photographer John Loomis wrote a nice piece about his recent portrait of journalist Pat Jordan for Men’s Journal magazine. What I appreciate so much about John’s post is the before-and-after comparisons between images used for publication and those (like above) that missed that edit. As a photographer, it’s easy to grumble when publications don’t see it your way through the final product. You have a really great image, and you ponder the edit while waiting for the run date, and when it shows up not like you imagined you get bummed out. For newspaper photographers, that’s practically a daily occurrence anymore. Last week I spent an entire day covering a prominent housefire, and after filing a dozen images, a story and video, nothing shows up in the paper and they forgot the byline credit on the story. Ho hum. So, like John said, “that’s life” because sometimes you really have to just focus on getting the photograph you want and letting others satisfy their needs and knowing you delivered a quality image, first choice or not. But like most photographers, it doesn’t end there. John wants to pursue it more.  That’s a characteristic of a motivated photographer –moving beyond the paying client and the assignment.

“There was something at stake for me and I didn’t get what I wanted, i.e. something iconic of this complicated and experienced subject. I’d like to go back again and again until I nailed it, but I’m not sure Pat would be up for it… but I’ll give him a chance on my own time and dime, and maybe next year we’ll get it.”

I love this portrait of Mr. Jordan. The shrubbery makes the perfect set, and the cigar and smoke adds the perfect touch. The subdued lighting lets the subject’s personality come through, and the wood chair adds an Americana feel. I Love it love it.

Quito from the bus window, photo by Elie Gardner.

I almost fell out of my chair when I read the following words. The unconcealed message is extraordinarily inspiring:

“As a journalist, I’m a post processor. I don’t cry while I photograph funerals. I don’t clap when I hear a message I like. I react days, weeks later. It’s a professional necessity that has become a personal defense mechanism. Ecuador broke it down. The páramo’s spirit caught me off guard. On horseback, I closed my eyes only when the wind blew up the dust so bad it hurt my eyes. With my eyes closed, the sound of the horses’ hooves and the whipping of the wind kept the scenery alive in my mind. In Galápagos I jumped into the Pacific and within minutes a sea turtle swam to my left, a sea lion to my right. I could be no where but that moment. It’s all right now.”

Then I actually fell out of my chair when I picked up this meditative link on NY Times via Shannon O’Brien.

“But primarily, fundamentally, to live is to embrace each moment as if it were the first, last, and all moments of time. Whether you like this moment or not is not the point: in fact liking it or not liking it, being willing or unwilling to accept it, depending on whether or not you like it, is to sit on the fence of your life, waiting to decide whether or not to live, and so never actually living. I find it impressive how thoroughly normal it is be so tentative about the time of our lives, or so asleep within it, that we miss it entirely. Most of us don’t know what it actually feels like to be alive. We know about our problems, our desires, our goals and accomplishments, but we don’t know much about our lives.”

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)

Red, White & You, photography by Melissa Lyttle. Used with permission.

I absolutely love Melissa Lyttle’s “Red, White & You” patriotic portrait series shot on her iPhone, and it’s not because I just bought a new iPhone and I’m biased towards it okay I really am. What’s lovely about this little pet project is the spontaneity of the piece coupled with the varied looks and expressions. Usually these little acts of photo goodness used to require the camera kit, the download and laptop time, not to mention the film if you were shooting this on the real Holga.

You know I’ve been searching for an image (or in this case a series of images) over this last weekend that really hits the perfect tone for the Fourth of July. This absolutely makes it for me. Keep this portrait series bookmarked for future inspiration.

Silver Spring Kitchen, Silver Spring, Maryland. Photograph by Scott Strazzante

Scott, I. Love. This. Photograph. You. Rock.

The wallpaper, the screen image, the low composition, the mood from the lighting — beautiful, just beautiful. It strikes a serious visual chord in me. You just made my month. See more of Scott here, here (love this one too), and here. Go forth, enjoy.

Political Loafers, Lambert Airport, St. Louis, Missouri. Photograph by Elie Gardner

p.s. no smug intended.

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?

I’m upset.

I’m angry.

I’m saddened.

I lost one of my favorite champions of photography. He is a friend, a mentor; was a coworker. He is one I sought to work with even before working here.

Last Thursday, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch eliminated 18 jobs, several of those in the newsroom, and one being Sid Hastings, our former Assistant Director of Photography.

It came as a shock. I arrived back from a video assignment and looked to Sid for a video edit. He wasn’t there. His desk seemed oddly vacant.

Fellow staffer Rick Mach told me. Sid had been laid off. It was a punch to the chest. I couldn’t breathe.

I’m not angry with anyone and it’s not our editors’ fault. The dreadful economy that continues to table our personal plans caused it. It’s business. It’s about money, and maybe a few false expectations of growth. That’s what I’m angry about. Whatever the monster, it forced out my friend.

It’s actually part of a larger sadness. I’m tired of our industry’s layoffs. I’m tired of the buyouts. I’m tired of not knowing what we all as newspaper photojournalists might be doing a year, two years, and five years from now. I’m tired of trying to predict it, and I’m tired of being tired about it. It’s time to move on.

Its time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
Its time to move on, it s time to get going.

–Tom Petty

How hard should this all be? I want to make pictures and tell good stories. I want to go out everyday and make quiet, colorful, and truly memorable photographs. I want good journalism. I want to talk photography — heck that’s why I work with other photographers! I want the passion that is the craft. We have it. We just need to look because it’s here somewhere. We just have to fish it out of this dismal ocean. The first thing is to never stop caring. Quantity over quality should be a punchline, not a memo via email.

Did you know that I dreamed of working at the Post-Dispatch when I was young? When I was 9 or 10 I saw a beautiful essay on Eastern Europe by (former staffer) Jerry Naunheim. It moved me to be a photojournalist. I wanted to travel, to get away and document the world from my own perspective. This isn’t about immortalizing oneself; it’s about practicing the beautiful craft of pure documentary photography.

Nevertheless, Sid is still here — in St. Louis, in his home, looking for options. He hasn’t moved (yet) or even lost touch. But in the photography department he’s sorely missed. He sees my vision, watches my style flourish. I especially knew that when he edited my take because we talked on the same level. We talked photography and waited for the perfect light to head out on a late afternoon “photo safari” [our term for street photography right after company hours were over.] We never got the chance to go. We were too busy.

Sid put three hundred percent into his job. He worked on his vacation days; he came in and looked at pictures no matter what. He lived a picture editor’s life. He’s going to be fine. I know it.

So here’s how it’s going to happen. I’m heading back tomorrow, fresh off a video shift with an open mind, and with still camera in hand, I’m going to try and keep up the three hundred percent that Sid put in here everyday at the Post. This isn’t for satisfying the needs of others. Whatever happens with this business is going to happen. This is shooting for us, not them. Good things may come to an end, but it won’t be a dead end, just a bump in the road.  No worries, no turning back. Get out, make some beautiful pictures, and please send me a few for inspiration. I would love to post them here with your permission.

Live the photographic life.

Matthew Rataczjak, Alex Boerner, Deborah Silver, Sarah Grile and Sam Wolfe are cleaning up for my first newspaper, Scripps Treasure Coast Newspapers. See them here.

Palm Beach Poster Amanda Voisard seems to be a one-person-show on the Treasure Coast after the recent buyouts claimed two of my favorite photographers, David Spencer and Paul Milette. Fellow Poster Meghan McCarthy clipped off some good photographs of the remnants of Fay through Wellington. Check out #88 on the slideshow. That is my hands-down favorite detail of the storm.

Keep up the good work friends.

From Soaked, by Matthew Ratajczak, at his blog Eat the Darkness.