Relearning Photo Lessons
One of the things I've always enjoyed about making pictures is how it's not really about what kind of camera you use or how many megapixels it has. What I like is the challenge that even after most of the technical aspects of making pictures become second nature, and even when you learn how to really "see" when you make a picture - the most important thing in photography is what's going on inside your head.
Conversely, one of the most frustrating aspects about taking pictures is when you forget all the photographic lessons you've learned. I made that mistake twice (that I know about) in just this past week alone.
On Tuesday, I joined community outreach workers with Volunteers of America conducting a national homeless census as they headed to a tent camp in the woods inside the highway interchange east of downtown Camden. We arrived as the snow was turning to sleet, just after dawn when everything was still dark, and everyone in the camp was inside their tents still asleep. I took just a few photos as the workers began approaching each tent, and then started figuring out a good angle for photos. I introduced myself to the first two people who climbed out of their tent, and I followed them as they were escorted from the woods to the van, parked out on the exit ramp. They were given a sandwich, and in a matter of minutes, the other workers were coming out of the woods with a half dozen other homeless men, including John Palumbo, below.
Because I figured the census would be taking place right there in the woods, I hadn't made many photos of the tent camp. My thought was I'd wait until everyone was awake, outside and being interviewed. I even thought the residents might be clearing snow off the tents, putting on their coats, maybe even brushing their teeth.
I didn't know everything would be moving immediately out to the van, and that after they were done, the workers (along with me and Inquirer reporter Matt Katz) would be taking off for the next stop. We didn't go back into the woods, so my anticipated "better" photo of life in the tents was never shot.
The lesson I learned but forgotten this day? Take pictures when you see them. Don't hold off shooting because you're waiting for something better to come along, but often never does.
I also made the mistake of not finding out exactly how the people in control of the situation would be working.
A lot of the pictures I make on assignments are the result of my anticipation - knowing how people might act in certain situations - and my reacting quickly as a photojournalist. That comes from experience, which can sometimes lead to a case of having just enough knowledge to get yourself in trouble. It never hurts to ask.
Unfortunately, I forgot THAT lesson just the following day.
On Thursday, I was in the office when we heard NJ State Police had found an underground bunker with a cache of semi-automatic rifles in rural Gloucester County. I didn't know until I arrived an hour later this had occurred three days earlier. The police discovered the stockpile that included everything from World War II-era firearms to rifles and modern handguns, a live grenade, gunpowder, and a canister of tear gas while investigating a Salem County burglary.
The 259 guns and nearly a half-million rounds of ammunition had already been seized and removed by the time the news got out. The Police Mobile Command Post and the television trucks were just pulling out as I drove up. With lots of experience arriving at stale news scenes, I tried to add some sense of drama to a straightforward picture of the owner's house by framing the scene with the remaining police vehicles.
Then I noticed officers working in the back end of the property and asked one of the officers about it. "We couldn't move the black powder, so they've got to dispose of it on site," he said. My mistake: not asking how that would be accomplished.
After photographing with my 300mm lens as the bomb squad "disposed" of the powder, Inquirer reporter Allison Steele walked up right behind me. At the very moment I turned around to talk with her, I heard a "pop" and saw her reacting with surprise. I spun back to see a giant fireball and a huge puff of smoke rising. I grabbed my camera, still with the long lens, and was able to make just one frame of what was left of the fireball...
...and then one of the officers stepped back into the scene, but by then, the smoke had mostly cleared.
It could have been a great photo...if only I had been ready for it...if only I had asked the police officer exactly what "dispose of" meant...if only I was standing in the right place, and...if only I had my second camera body with the wide angle lens in my hands when it ignited.
That's part of being a photographer. You get a lot of photos that are "if only..."
