PHOTOGRAPHIC ARCHAEOLOGY

View fullsize

Poor naïve, little photojournalist Ben. First official Press pass working at the Cd’A Press.

Although for the most part, I’m less happy to be shooting and covering news less often than I used to, it does provide me an interesting distance from which I can look. Looking back that is.

Recently, I’ve been able to sit down and dig through my digital photo archives. Aside from just ensuring that everything is backed up appropriately, I’ve been able to look through my photos with a more experienced eye. Whether through my own self-selection at the time or at an editor’s call, there are always a number of images that “don’t make the cut.” But…for one reason or another, I’m drawn to them now.

Here is one of those such images. Way back in 2010 —*cue time machine whooshing noises* — I had effectively just begun my photography career interning at the Coeur d’Alene Press, alongside Jerome Pollos and Shawn Gust.

About halfway through the summer, I was assigned to cover the Steve Omi Memorial Swim on Lake Coeur d’Alene. And although it wasn’t quite the perfect photo to illustrate the event in the paper, I’ve come back to enjoy this shot of a tender moment before the event began:

Marcos Donolo of Pullman reaches out to hold his daughter Kiara on Sanders Beach just before the Steve Omi Memorial Swim in Coeur d’Alene on July 18, 2009.
 

I’ll be showing off a number of these images over the coming months here on Photo Forward. Hope you all enjoy digging up these older images as much as I do!

A STROLL THROUGH "LITTLE NORWAY"

The placard outside the property reads: “Where the Past is our Present to You.”

Kitschy? I suppose, a little bit. Isolated? You bet. But…majestic?

View fullsize

BLUE MOUNDS—November 7, 2014: Rear-facing side of “Little Norway”.

I can’t say I was prepared for that one myself either. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t really enjoy the opportunity last week to photograph “Little Norway” in Blue Mounds, WI — about a half-hour drive from downtown Madison — for the “What You Get” section of the New York Times. This particular installment displayed real estate currently selling for $1.9M, featuring two other houses — one in Miami Beach, and another along the Maine coast.

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

Once I was able to get used to the stark (yet ‘museum-ey’) restored Norwegian homestead buildings (eight, in total) that dot the landscape of the property, I really started to enjoy “Little Norway” even more. Walking around the property inside and out with the owner, Scott Winner, I was able to feel the character of “Little Norway.” The house itself: gorgeous hardwood everywhere. The grounds: perfectly serene on this chilly Fall afternoon. And perhaps most important of all: There be dragons… 

BLUE MOUNDS—November 7, 2014: The view of the Norway Building, with dragon-adorned roof and modeled after a 12th Century Norwegian Church or “stavkirke” at “Little Norway”.

I’d take this property over the other two listed in the article any day of the week. Not that I’ll be buying any multi-million dollar properties anytime soon, however…

All in all, I had a wonderful time being able to use my (albeit limited) real estate photography skills (big shout-out and thanks to Aaron Schumm for giving me a chance to practice that a lot last summer!) Hard to believe I’m now being a five-time contributor to the New York Times. Craziness. Here’s hoping the work keeps heating up as the temps keep dropping.

A PEEK INSIDE

It’s probably the most common question I get asked when out on assignment. The one that most photographers dread.

“So…what gear are you using?”, generally followed up with an “Oh, I shoot with BRAND X too!”, and capped off with an “Now, I’ve got the [INSERT LENS HERE], how do you like your [LENS ON CAMERA]?”

Tools of the trade — all fitting into one small Domke bag.

I know. It sounds snobby and cynical the way that comes across. But I promise that it’s really not.

You wouldn’t ask a writer which brand of pen he prefers, a painter which brush he just purchased, or what kind of cordless drill your carpenter is using. In a strange way, taking photos are some strange amalgamation of all three — the pen, the brush, and the power tool.

Whenever I have the time, I put away the “big guns” and go back to basics and shoot a few rolls of B/W with this little beauty:

1960’s-Era Nikon S2 Rangefinder — Madison, WI

One 50mm lens. No meter. Hell, not even a battery (spring loaded shutter is always a winner). Take away the fluff of digital photography and focus on what matters — Composition, tone, balance, story, and emotion.

And that’s where the frustration I mentioned earlier really comes from. People are fascinated with technological “stuff” and forget what I’m really trying to do while I’m out there — tell stories through photographic art.

This isn’t meant to be a rant against photo-gearheads or hating on digital photography. (I’m just as guilty of “lens envy” from time to time myself) Just a thought to remember the next time you pick up your photo bag:

“Never let your camera get in the way of good photography.”

"THROUGH THE GROUND GLASS"

For quite a long time, I’ve been incredibly interested in getting into medium and large format photography. The unreal level of detail that this format can provide has always piqued my interest. Also, the sheer challenge of only getting one frame to get the shot perfect is really unlike anything I currently shoot.

Unfortunately for me right now, the cost to get into it is rather prohibitive (at least compared to my current situation shooting almost exclusively digital).

Thankfully there are awesome videos like this one (about large format landscape photographer Joe Freeman) to keep me occupied until my bank account can match my photography desires—Check it out:

Through the Ground Glass from Taylor Hawkins on Vimeo.

Here’s hoping I’ve got a long-lost relative somewhere with some large format gear for me to break into… but for now, I guess I’ll be taking the “large format state of mind” into my shooting—taking my time and making as few exposures as necessary to make the perfect image.