red, rainy, rainbow, north st. louis, missouri.

Clearing space before towing away the wrecked remains, Bellefontaine Neighbors, Missouri

“One woman was sleeping in an easy chair; the other was napping in a bedroom. The cousins were resting up for a busy night, the wedding celebration for one of the women’s grandsons, when the home shook with a tremendous explosion….one of the women missed getting hit by three feet.”

Pipe Show, St. Charles, Missouri.

Washington Park, Illinois. Photo by Erik M. Lunsford

Cherokee Street, St. Louis, Missouri. Photo by Erik M. Lunsford

There just happens to be the side of a house demolished with a single chandelier exposed to the world on Cherokee street. When I stopped for a photograph, these birds flew the coop (get it?)

It almost feels as if the birds are memories leaving the house that once sheltered the lives of sons, daughters, parents, and grandparents. Now the sad and defaced  room that brought families together at the dining table is but an airy window for all the world to see.

Checking the level of the kettle, St. Charles, Missouri, photo by Erik Lunsford

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.

Official Deadline Clock, St. Louis Post-Dispatch newsroom, St. Louis, Missouri. Photograph copyright Erik M. Lunsford

The NY Times published a bleak article on the state of photojournalism, and you would think the walls were crashing down after finishing page 2 of the online article. Take for example this quote:

“Newspapers and magazines are cutting back sharply on picture budgets or going out of business altogether, and television stations have cut back on news coverage in favor of less-costly fare. Pictures and video snapped by amateurs on cellphones are posted to Web sites minutes after events have occurred. Photographers trying to make a living from shooting the news call it a crisis.”

A crisis? Yes, a crisis! Layoffs for staff photographers, shrinking print space and budget (and time!), an apathetic attitude for quality and accuracy, and a horrible economic climate all contribute to the perfect storm of a struggling field. We’re pretty much at the brink of do-or-die, and the view down below is the quintessential dark abyss.

“The problem is that news photography is finished,” Ms. Riant said. “Gamma wants to go back to magazines and newsmagazines. We will stop covering daily news events to more deeply cover issues.”

That’s a mixed bag. It’s obvious that news organizations either produce the daily news content or distribute it to someone else. If the industry goes to an online pay model, then moving to cover deeper issues with intelligent storytelling gives readers a reason to pay for access. Think about this NYT article I’m writing about. It applies to me, interests me, and with that my willingness to pay. We are used to paying for a print subscription, and we’re used to free online access. Why should we receive free online access for the same information in the paid printed material? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?  Moreover, I can get the daily news anywhere (think AP), but it’s the in-depth, local, and specialized information that matters to me. That I will pay for because it helps me as a citizen and a consumer make better choices and stay informed.

“The business model is not working today,” she said. “So without some changes, it won’t work tomorrow.”

See above.

“Photographers are producing plenty of great stuff, but now the media seem interested only in celebrities,” he said. When Michael Jackson died, it wasn’t part of the news, it was the news. How many photographs of his funeral did we really need?”

Give that man a Blue Moon beer for getting it right. Moreover, I know even my colleagues in the industry feel the same. It’s one thing to cover the event properly, it’s another thing to squeeze the last bit of blood from the turnips.  The question remains — how many newspaper web clicks or television rating increases were directly tied to the MJ news? The inherent double-edged sword lies in the fact that those web clicks do equate into real dollars that pay real salaries — so how does that balance? Rob wrote on Aphotoeditor about the tyranny of click-counting via an article by Andrew Sullivan. Here’s a direct quote:

“It’s possible to post stories that make people who come to a web site more likely to click, yet may make them less likely to come back to the site, and certainly less likely to pay for it.”

And then as if a homage to the daily news content argument above, Andrew adds:

“For much of the weekend the top story on the Journal’s site was that a helicopter and a plane had collided over the Hudson River. No kidding! Why would I pay for a home page that crams that story down my throat when every other news site is doing the cramming for free? There’s a lesson here about the tyranny of click-counting. “

Yep, give me a slow website that requires ten clicks for every piece of information that you find everywhere else and you’ll dial in a lot of clicks. However, you may also dial in many visitors who won’t return because the site practically begs them to leave and never come back. It’s unfortunate, but those clicks are crucial. Maybe it’s about creating sites that are easy to navigate and applauds design rather than shoving clicks and ads down peoples’ throats. In addition, that specialized content that you can’t get anywhere else? That’s the Golden Goose, right?

Some more from the NYT:

“Ten years ago, Dirck Halstead, who spent 29 years as a White House photographer for Time magazine, wrote in Digital Journalist: “When I speak of photojournalism as being dead, I am talking only about the concept of capturing a single image on a nitrate film plane, for publication in mass media.” Visual storytelling has itself been around since the Stone Age, he noted, and “will only be enhanced” by the changes now taking place.

Revisiting that column last month, Mr. Halstead wrote that, if anything, conditions today were worse than he had predicted. To be a photojournalist today, he wrote, “You have to be crazy.”

Think about the markets for a moment. Fear and greed drives markets. Often we lose hope and cash out in the market when our dollars drop faster than a Six Flags ride. It’s the opposite on the way up — everyone wants in long after the real money has been made. I have a rule-of-thumb that I’ve learned the hard way over the years. When all hope is completely lost, the bottom has passed and things head north.  Have you noticed your portfolio a few months after the financial breaking point? It is most likely higher now. In my opinion, the same rule-of-thumb applies for our profession. When you cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel due to a hopeless myopia, then it’s a possible push for the turning point in how we do business. The ones that invest now will reap their rewards later. It’s easy to jump off the same cliff that everyone else is doing, but it’s a lot more difficult (and far more rewarding) to stay on the positive track. We have to do something different, and maybe this is the catalyst for change.

How about this thought? Think less about layoffs, budgets, and space crunches. As the article said, we have zillions of web pages in need of filling. The opportunity to present work in new ways is richer than ever before. Sure, we’re going to have to one-man-band it at times, and we may not like that idea one bit. Try shooting a video, writing a story, shooting photos, and creating a gallery all from one assignment. Sounds horrible, right? Surprisingly, it’s richly satisfying, because you’re in control of the content. You don’t have to dump b-roll and go and see how it turns out in the video player later. You can be in charge of that. Hate that one editor’s editing choices? Fughetaboutit! Here is your chance to drive the presentation. You are the only limitation and obstacle standing in the way, and once you realize how truly gifted we are as visual journalists and storytellers, then it could be the bottom of something heading wonderfully up.

Pantherettes and Golden Girls, Oakville, Missouri. Photo by Erik M. Lunsford

The early morning shift at the paper comes at a cost; notably my sleeping pattern and state of mental readiness. Although, on the plus side it does offer up some of the greatest opportunities for great morning light and in this case the absence of it as a thick fog coated the landscape.  There were three options on the table when I left the house in the morning — a murder scene from the night before in a neighborhood where even the bad guys won’t get out of their car, a fog feature to help out the online crew, or a handful of car crashes on side roads. The choice was easy, except with fog it’s like a race to find something before the weather clears. The number one lesson learned over the years when dealing with a fast changing weather feature is to map out a small radius (think neighborhoods or a part of town) and search within those boundaries. Generally it takes two or three different locations before striking feature gold, but the first attempt was happily the last attempt as I stumbled on these dance squads practicing for an upcoming performance.

The fifty-yard line was the perfect stage for a photograph because the lines of the track run perpendicular to it and the light poles are symmetrical. It took several minutes of waiting but the action eventually came my way. The temptation, and I think every photographer who shoots like this would know, is the desire to move quickly, following the action and trying to nail a moment. That’s especially true when we’re on a time schedule and pressed with a queue of other daily responsibilities. Of course it’s a mistake well, most of the time because often the action happens at the spot you originally planned on, and by then you’re far away chasing something out of nothing. It’s too often I jet from a scene hoping to find something better, only to be disappointed. It’s one of those hard photographic lessons that I never can (or will) fully master.