Daughters of the American Revolution, Alton Memorial Day Parade & DQ, Alton, Illinois

Fifteen unclaimed remains of soldiers lost in the wars of the last century were laid to rest in Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery. A two-star general paid respects at the gravesite. A soloist who performs at funerals for homeless soldiers sung “Amazing Grace.” Rain soaked the grounds of white tombstones as taps played on the bugle.

Washington Park Cemetery cleanup, St. Louis, Missouri.

I had always seen this cemetery from the highway, located in the takeoff path from Lambert airport. It was dilapidated, overgrown, infested with mounds of trash, tires, parts of appliances, and broken headstones. At one point there was a police pursuit of a suspect in the cemetery. A tree line advanced over the years, swallowing generations of graves.  A Boy Scout troop and a Catholic parish descended to right the wrongs. It was an attempt to make holy what was a neglected home for those at rest.

Mark Enslin pulls a rotted chair from a grave site.

Scouts pile cut logs together.

Bruce Nicolson picks up and protects a bouquet of headstone flowers as he mows.

Scrap metal yard, (gritty) south St. Louis, Missouri.

There’s an inherent challenge in illustrating a story on scrap metal theft when a majority of scrap yards want absolutely nothing to do with you or your presence. It’s the type of assignment that requires less of a dress code and more wit in dealing with a list of characters that either flee the camera or clam up on request for a brief conversation. The Canon 1D is the size of a SUV, and the click of the shutter sounds like a car backfiring. I’m always grateful to those few who have something to say and are willing to let me join them and make pictures.

Firefighter Tim Hoffman trains for the Ironman 9/11/11 in Wisconsin.

I’m not exactly the connoisseur of the weight room. In fact an uber-buff high school P.E. teacher once called me a <expletive> because I didn’t particularly favor the rigors of heavy pieces of metal clamped to a bar. Ten years later the teacher (who I’m confident is now thankfully out of teaching) would probably at least be proud that I’ve turned face and become a fairly decent friend to the world of Cybex in the efforts of aging with at least a shred of muscular fitness. To the point nevertheless, you have to show some support for firefighter Tim Hoffman, who dropped over a hundred pounds, bulked up, and focused on training for an upcoming Ironman competition.

His goal: to remember and honor the legacy of firefighters who perished on 9/11. Here is an example of his day (if memory serves me somewhat correctly) — up at three a.m., off to swim, then bike, then work, then cardio and weights, then a nap, work, run, cardio and weights, family time, out by nine p.m. I’m sure I’m an activity or an hour off here or there, but that’s quite impressive.

The sad truth about this photograph is the fact that I don’t have the slightest clue what exercise he is performing. But, for all intensive purposes, I’ll admire anyone who can lift themselves up with their bicep (or tricep, or arm??) You can follow Tim’s progress and cheer him on here.

Losing and remembering Tyler Warne, Ellisville, Missouri. Photo by Erik M. Lunsford

Kerrie Warne, along with her husband Kyle, son Austin, 12, and daughter Sydnie, 10, visit the grave of their son Tyler Warne, who died in a car crash due to drowsiness just over a year ago in March. The family visits the grave once a week to reflect and clean the headstone. “This is where I have to see him for the rest of my life,” says Kerrie. Warne started a website, Tyredd.com, to bring awareness to drowsy driving. “I’m fortunate our family has found the strength…it helps us find a place to do something positive with your grief.”

Barista competition, St. Louis, Missouri, Photo by Erik M. Lunsford

The barista competition claimed in the community event listing that the admission and coffee was free. I waited all week to snag an espresso from some pretty talented baristas. It’s a shame that after an hour of shooting and sniffing, they tore down the community espresso machine, leaving me empty handed. Given that it was probably the one time I could get something free on assignment, I was pretty deflated. Not cool, not cool at all. At least Lorenzo Perkins, the snazzy barista pictured here from Austin, Texas, walked away with first place in the brewer’s cup, which recognizes the art of manual coffee preparation. Nice.

Sno-to-go, south st. louis county, missouri.

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.

hacking bananas, south St. Louis, photograph by Erik M. Lunsford

Every fall, proprietor Joseph Waeltermann of the Southside Garden Stop in south St. Louis City chops down his hardy banana trees in anticipation of the winter season. Waeltermann will mulch over the chopped remains and wait until spring, when the trees will grow again.

Having learned gardening and growing in Florida, my return to St. Louis and its seasonal schedule for plants still seems alien, even though I grew up in the Midwest. Who knew that hardy bananas grow to heights of ten to fifteen feet in the summer heat and survive freezing temperatures through the winter doldrums? Equally mind boggling is the fall planting schedule for hosta and hydrangea, two recent entries in my garden at home. Intentionally planting it just to see it die back seems absurd, but I suppose the first buds on branches and sprouting tender leaves from the soil in the spring will carry with it a sense of cyclical normalcy.