In my formative years, much of my photographic training came in the area of photojournalism. The art seems to fit my personality nearly perfectly, for in addition to my passion for photography, I’ve also always been passionate about stories - stories of people, stories of places, stories, just in general, that bring to light little pieces of our environment of which we otherwise may have been unaware. Stories teach us to listen, they teach us to learn, they are what we are. Truly, the essence of existence must be stories, for they are what we remember and subsequently base our lives around. Many people I’ve talked to say that when they die, what they hope for is to have a story by which they can be remembered. It is the lingering nature of our stories that ultimately make us immortal.
As a photojournalist, I am privileged to have the responsibility of capturing (and thus immortalizing) these stories. Such a privilege is grand and heavy, yet my personality embraces the opportunity unfailingly.
I’ve recently re-entered the photojournalism realm. My now good friend, Ken Ketchie, owner of the High Country Press based in Boone, NC has allowed me to do some freelance work for High Country Magazine the semi-anual magazine published by his company. High Country Magazine focuses its content on people and places in and around the Boone area - known to locals as the “high country”. I’m glad to share with you some examples of the stories I’ve captured over the past couple of weeks:
Next to his bus, artist Chris Smart shows off one of his favorite carvings. Smart says he particularly enjoys creating human likenesses such as this one. Dozens of his sculptures can be found at his roadside venue on highway 321 between Boone and Blowing Rock, North Carolina.
Banjoist Floyd Gragg shows off his banjo at his roadside stand on highway 221 near Grandfather Mountain. Made in the 1920’s and one of only six of its kind, Gragg says, this style of banjo also belongs to musical legend Ralph Stanley.
Golfers enjoy a round in the morning at Linville Golf Club located in Western North Carolina. In the distance, Grandfather Mountain stands elegantly as a reminder of the pristine surroundings.
It felt somewhat familiar to me, this jovial and sentimental gathering of friends. Family and seldom-seen acquaintances alike would trade handshakes and hugs, for this night was about nothing other than recalling that which made them similar. It was a warm August evening in LInville, North Carolina, sun setting brilliantly beneath the mountain. I watched and listened to these people, rich in wealth and humor, feeling as though I had begun to completely understand.
I wanted, however to be invisible. For, in cases like these, that is the way I see my job. In order to gather the absolute best images, I must be perfectly there, yet perfectly invisible. I am essentially a benevolent voyeur, silently watching the goings on around me with the intent on capturing and keeping them. If I’m too close, I will ruin the moment. If I’m too far, I will miss the moment. This kind of job is about balance. Too many photographers, I believe, do not recognize the importance of this concept. Ultimately, it is the unforeseen and unplanned moments that turn out to be the most important, these moments being the ones I hope to capture.
The Fancy Dress Ball in Linville was a perfect exercise in this process - an understanding invisibility.
I am looking forward to working with my friends from Eseeola Lodge on more exciting and rewarding projects.
Several weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to be asked to do a portrait of Jonathan and Hannah Carr, a couple of old friends from my former church. We took our operation to Duke Gardens in Durham, NC, which unfailingly provides beautiful and serene backdrops for portraits like these. As is the case for most July days in North Carolina, the weather on this particular day was…HOT. When we were finished, I was literally soaked from head to toe in sweat. However, interestingly, I was somewhat pleased with this feeling of exhaustion. Somehow, it indicated to me that I’d completed a grand task, for no man should sweat this much unless his work is hard and meaningful. I think my mind goes back to my days as a defensive tackle for the Wakefield Wolverines, when after toiling through a vigorous 2 hour football practice, I’d find myself sitting in the locker room soaked in sweat, smiling to myself. I knew in these moments that I’d done something wonderful, that I’d pushed myself far, far beyond comfort, and that I was better for it. Granted, the portrait we did was not nearly as physically demanding, but I believe it did yield some satisfying results.