November 2006 Archives

Blueeyes Magazine: Content

After a nice long cry - oh, wait, I mean a nice hard slap in the face from the girlfriend (thanks baby, I needed that) - I'm a way more focused today and ready to tackle part 2 of my series about Blueeyes. This episode is going to be all about the photography that the magazine publishes, supports, and sometimes has a very hard time finding and crafting in order to produce each issue.

As weird as it feels to type (weird because shouldn't it be this way at every publication?!), content is the only thing that is important at Blueeyes. The magazine was created, designed, and is solely focused on publishing important documentary projects. It only exists to be a home for good photography, and its only agenda is to try to celebrate really kick ass new work. Period. That being said, content is both our greatest asset and purpose, and also the source of nearly all of our problems.

Content problem #1: Blueeyes is broke.

Well, we aren't actually broke because we never had money, or wanted it really, but the magazine operates without a budget, which means that it doesn't pay its "employees" or contributors anything. Additionally it does not receive any revenue from any source. As anyone who reads this already knows, money is a very powerful motivator and helps do just about anything more quickly and efficiently (and by this I mean the motivation to make money encourages people, especially poor photographers, to get things done and return e-mails). Because the magazine doesn't use or have any money, we depend on the good will and passion for photography of the staff and contributors to keep the magazine moving forward. The lack of money, thank god for this, has never been a huge problem, and we've worked with any number of extremely talented and award-winning photographers from around the world who were excited to be a part of this labor of love.

Content problem #2: Where's the beef?

Even though I put money as numero uno, its not nearly our biggest challenge we overcome to publish Blueeyes. The single largest content problem at the magazine is finding really good and important photography. That's also not surprising... finding good content is the big job of every magazine. Duh. But the thing is that Blueeyes is devoted to publishing a very certain kind of photography... so right off the bat our total content becomes very limited (that's one strike). That certain kind of photography also happens to be, as I've written several dozen times before, extremely difficult to create well (that's two). And as you already know, Blueeyes was created to publish a certain type of extremely difficult photography (documentary project photography, wahoo!) because the editorial space for it has ever been in great decline; which is to say that because there are many fewer publications paying and publishing project work, there are also fewer photographers willing to invest their hearts, meager paychecks, and lives in order to work on projects (strike three, yer out!).

This is really one of the hard things to realize about Blueeyes from the outside. Even though I know you feel like there is really, really great project work everywhere that you see, there really isn't when it comes to the things we are trying to support. That sounds cynical, but believe me I've been looking for almost five years. And when you sometimes notice that there hasn't been a new issue of Blueeyes in longer than the normal 2 months, the lack of content is often the only reason.

Documentary photography projects that won't ever be published in the magazine usually wind up in one of several categories: great idea, but no execution; giant huge life-long project idea (eg. Religion in America), but not nearly enough time invested; decent idea, decent photography, but no where near finished; good idea, ok execution, but no personal vision; none or very bad idea, but great photography (which sometimes we can turn into a portfolio). There are more but you get the point. The limited reagents are almost always either not enough time, not enough passion, or not enough talent.

So why aren't people putting more time into their projects? Well, why should they? I truly hope that they are and will, but I also recognize that there is very little economic incentive in this business for a photographer to go back again and again, which is what it takes to create a story that is special and that can run from 16-60 images (our desired length). Even the big guns of the photography industry that do documentary projects rarely have the ability to return and spend the time to produce long bodies of work. (One of the things that I believe distinguishes some of my favorite photographers is that they are so fucking talented and experienced that they can arrive somewhere and immediately begin to make interesting pictures, covering so much more ground than others can).

The way that time most often shows itself is through projects that have a lot of potential but that just cut off right when things would get complicated. A lot of these projects are from newspaper photographers who have started something really great, but at some point in the process their editors decided it was ready for print, and so, "snip," that's it. The story stops. Again, its economics. If you are going to run 8-16 pictures it makes a lot of sense to stop right there. You've already gotten everything you need and more would just complicate the story. But if you are trying to publish a larger essay, then you are probably only half-way there and need to keep working. Publishing longer essays isn't just something to make Blueeyes a bit different than the hundreds of other photography zines, its also something we really believe in and something that ultimately is very important for documentary photography.

Passion is not nearly as easy to just pick up as time is to give. A really easy way to get disillusioned with this job is to look through some of the several dozen submissions we get (we average about 50 a month) in which a photographer has gone to a third world country to photograph poor or sick people and obviously has nothing to say or zero compassion for the people in the pictures. Why in the fuck are they there? I know why they are there, but it makes me insane seeing it again and again. And as fickle as passion is, the most difficult thing to work with and communicate back to a photographer is that their project and idea was more than their talent could handle. I would never tell someone that they don't have what it takes to be whatever they want to be. What I do, and what everyone on the editorial board tries to do, is to share our honest feedback with each person who submits their work in order to try and make their project and the entire genre of documentary photography better. So many times the personal feedback that I have to share is all about connection between photographer and subject or story and how much better their photographs would be if they dug deeper and asked themselves the simple but tough questions. Why am I here? What is this story about? Who are these people? What do they fear? love? dream about? How can I connect my viewers with their lives?

Content problem #3: Deja vu

A freakishly large percentage of our submitted work is all exactly the same, not only as a body itself (I once had 5 essays on Burlesque sent to me in the same week) but also to lots of other famous work that all of our editors have seen before. This is a slippery slope of course, and I'm not going to get into a discussion of whether there are truly any new ideas left in the world, etc. But seriously, why would a photographer want to spend a very large amount of time rehashing an extremely well trod story once again unless they had something new to say. You should rightfully be thinking that I sound like a prat here, but really I'm just trying to be practical. And to be even more clear, I'm excluding any work that is connected to big news events, because lots and lots of people cover and have things to say about that, as they should. I'm happy to look at another tsunami essay, or dilapidated Katrina homes, for instance, but I'm fucking tired of anything from the Burning Man Festival.

Think about what you are working on and if its not unique then make your approach to it personal to make it say something more than, "I once saw an essay by Gene Richards about this and that won an award, so I thought I should do the same thing." And if you don't shoot like Gene, then don't shoot like Gene. I can't shoot like him, and I've fucking tried my ass off, so I just shoot like myself and try to focus on telling stories, which is already hard enough.

There is more to say about content, and I'll finish with some advice on submitting your work to the magazine, but I'm going to begin wrapping up here. In the coming posts I'll get into some other related aspects to content, such as my delicate position towards multimedia and our upcoming plans for bringing new features into the experience at Blueeyes.

Advice for submitting to Blueeyes Magazine:

Follow the posted guidelines and be professional. Those 2 things should be so obvious that I needn't mention them. Take a look at our recent archives... if we've just published a story on Lebanon, for instance, then we aren't going to publish another one for quite a while. And while you are at the archives try to get a sense of the work we are dedicated to supporting. If you have an art photography project on decapitated roosters, then we probably aren't going to be very responsive. If you aren't sure if your story is ready yet, go ahead and submit it and take advantage of our feedback. However, if you've only shot for 3 nights at the county fair, please don't submit yet... it's not ready. Like any other essay or story your project needs to have a story arch, characters, a quasi-plot, process, details, etc. If you don't know what I'm talking about, consider picking up a book. I've learned as much from the first 2 chapters of All the King's Men about story tellling as I have from any photography class I've ever taken. In a long essay something has to happen... the issue or place or people need to change, or have conflict, or take a long journey, etc. Life is not static, do not try to force it into a little box that way. Incredible photographic talent without passion or an idea is just masturbation. Ah, nice, a great place to end.

I've spent a few thousands words basically dissuading any reasonable person from investing themselves into being a long-term documentary photographer, or at least from submitting to the magazine. But I really believe that the project is the most important and rewarding and effective format for photography. Through it photography finds its greatest power and more sophisticated and enriching tool for transmitting meaning and challenging ideas. I can't imagine doing anything else in photography.

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Out of focus

I can't get out of my head and am feeling fuzzy around the edges the last couple of days. I'm wishing I was a dog.

In this dream I'd be one of those really mindless dogs who only want to run and run and run, zig-zagging from place to place, taking in all of the smells of the world. You'd see me sprinting past and I wouldn't look back. I would stop to consider why I was running or where I was going. I would just run on and it would be beautiful. And like Stephen the very fast dog, for you short story fans out there, I would be perfectly content to just be. A dumb happy mutt. I love that thought.

Thanksgiving was great, and the week before was slow but nice, but this week I feel like a great big fog has crept into the loft and clouded my senses. What I'm doing? What am I supposed to be doing? What do I really want to be doing as a freelance photographer? Even worse, along with the precipitation multiple distractions have rolled in as well: debates on photojournalism I'm peripherally involved in, a colleague having lied, a conversation with a friend about brand identity, and the looming specter of designing my new portfolio. I'm out of focus.

I've turned to my usual sources... music, books, friends, liquor, some down time. I know it'll come back eventually but I'm bothered in considering how long I've been driving down my proverbial freelance path without being awake at the wheel.

I'm about to begin my 5th full year as a freelance photographer and I have no idea where I am. I can measure myself against friends and colleagues, but that doesn't have any meaning. I can reassure myself that I've found clients, a solid income, and representation, but that doesn't really answer the bigger question. I'm not a photographer who got into this career for the "life" - I don't care about the travel, the gear, the name in print. I really just want to try to learn and share what I learn and become a better photographer. It's a very long road and I've always known that I was here to be in it until the end. Sometimes I just wish I knew what mile marker I was at now.

What did I want out of this when I began? Did I know? What do I want out of this now that I'm 5 years in? Do I know?

I want to free my mind from the trap of relative thinking. My opinions about this photographer or that one, and how they shot this story or that one, don't mean a fucking thing and shouldn't be allowed to effect me. I want to reconnect to the content. I never lost understanding that the subject is what is important, not me the photographer, but I want to dig deeper into the issues and try to find better ways of connecting the portrait to the story, when the portrait is all that is left. I want to ask more questions and learn more from those I meet and photograph. I want to learn new skills and refocus old ones to hone my instincts. I've yet to really embrace new media and technology to deepen my ability to tell stories. I want to refocus my attention to my personal projects, and refocus my personal projects on the issues that truly mean the most to me. I want to remember the incredible importance of passion in communicating a message. I want to create more photographs for myself. I want to strip away the industry bullshit and the technical nonsense. I want to think less about money. I obviously didn't choose photography for the money and I do not want to sacrifice work I care about for something more lucrative that I don't. I want to be more honest with shitty photo editors. I want to stop feeling lucky for the hard work I've put in to get this far. I want to take more risks and work harder to push my work further. I want to be a better advocate for important journalism. I want to live up to my potential.

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Home stretch

You can already feel it, right? It's in the air, it's in the pace of everyone's stride at the airport as they try to deftly sidestep yet another jackass who doesn't get the left side=walk/right side=stand international rules on the moving walkways, and its even in my gut. It's getting to be that time of the year.

I already wrote a "oh fuck, oh fuck, look at my to-do list" entry a few posts back... but I wanted to chime in again to celebrate a few steps forward (two steps back). (Am I the only one who misses that animated cat that danced and sung with Paula Abdul in her post-L.A. Lakers breakout album?) Anywho, there has been a lot of stress and a bit of drama these past few days in my world, but things are looking brighter. First and foremost, the girlfriend and I finally found a new place to live, which is very good and something that I was happy to cross off the big list. The new place is not nearly as hip or swanky as our loft, but it has more room and it should work well for us. Also in the personal realm, airline tickets have been purchased and plans made, and the girlfriend and I will spend Turkey Day with my family in Tallahassee. (read: time to cash in my Dad's new passion for collecting wine).

Notorious culture warrior, attorney Jack Thompson at his home in Coral Gables, FL. Thompson wages a one-man crusade against violence in entertainment directed towards children, especially in video games and rap music.

Also now officially crossed off the list, I spent several hours this morning doing some tweaking and re-editing to my portfolio website and there is a little bit of new work to be found. (The image above is one such example - I shot it last month for Rolling Stone. Unfortunately, the clip really isn't worth checking out). As other things are published (thus allowing me to share them with the rest of the world) I'll be adding even more, including a new project in the personal section. Now that the personal website is a bit more tidy, my evening will be spent re-shuffling my Redux portfolio on their website. So fresh, so... (it's like a musical revue this afternoon). And speaking of Redux, I heard back from Marcel this morning that he really likes my first draft of a new promo card (another to-do item), and so I'll get that finalized and off to the printer this week as well.

Blueeyes has been one of my main sources of drama recently, unfortunately, as the magazine has said goodbye to a couple of editorial board members. Drama really isn't the right word; it was more like just what happens when non-profit internet publishing meets extremely busy schedules. This latest bit of strife has put off my writing the 2nd part of my ongoing soap opera, As Blueeyes Magazine Turns... but it should be finished shortly, or as soon as I make some sense of how to explain why its so damn hard for us to find the content we are trying to support. The magazine itself, which is a lot more important than some post about it, is actually in decent shape despite the losses (I've also brought on a new member for the team this week too!) for putting out a new issue at the beginning of next month. We have some killer work waiting to see the light of day; I'm excited!

In the office I've taken advantage of my somewhat lighter editorial work load of the last two weeks to overhaul my digital workflow/storage system (that sounds a lot more complicated than my solution is) and also put some earnest work into building my PhotoShelter archive into an actual resource for my photography. Thus far I've really liked the way PS is set up and haven't had any significant problems. I've rerouted a few of my clients directly through using PhotoShelter to view and download high res files and they all seem to like working with it as well (but several others continue to demand that I FTP digital files directly to them). I guess this ended up being the big year for digital in my young career... not that I will ever be one of those people who say they are "all digital." My office mantra the past couple of weeks has been something like, "4 DVDs a day!, 4 DVDs a day!" which is to say that I've been trying to catch up on archiving my RAW format images on DVD (in duplicate, of course). Thus far I've only managed to barely get my toes wet into the St. Barths job three weeks ago; so that's not quite a done deal yet, as far as my list is concerned either.

And because I'm, well, me, I've left some of the truly HUGE jobs to taunt me until the very end of my list. The best I can say about my progress on the new print portfolio is that I've thought a little about it, which is a tad bit better than the process of converting my books into QuickBooks (I've tried to not think about that in any way). And worse still, I haven't even thought of not thinking about creating a new advertising print portfolio. Hmm, I think I'll keep that status quo right where it is for the time being. I'm now going to go crack open a beer (I'm on London time today), and not think about any of those things some more.

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On fame

Earlier this year I had my first few inclusions in the contributors' pages of some of the magazines I work for on and off. I'd never anticipated being excited about this, um, honor, but I did remember always being somewhat fascinated by the types of people who seemed to create and mold the content in the magazines that I read. So cool, so blasé, so different than me... so it seemed. Each short interview that I gave for the little bio they run, pasted under a thumbnail portrait, lasted about 45 seconds and ended up going in some absurd direction which, though vaguely connected, had almost nothing to do with whatever subject I had photographed for the magazine. In my favorite contributors' page interview thus far, in The Fader, the published version ended up basically misquoting me by saying to the effect that "John Loomis hates famous people." It was inaccurate because I didn't actually say that, but not because I love famous people.

For the record, as I don't have feelings strong enough either way use such terms as hate or love, I really just don't get fame. I don't understand the culture of obsession and false love surrounding some of America's stars. I'm fascinated by it and love to try and document it when I can, but I'm completely baffled by its existence on so many levels. In my experience, which is limited to (the girlfriend and I don't have a TV) whatever clients have been silly enough to hire me to photograph some sort of celebrity, "famous" people are often the most boring people in the room. Rappers are some of the worst offenders in my mind. Holy shit, you guys are boring, for realz, dogs.

I got off track here somewhere... and to tie off that loose end above, dear clients, you would certainly not be silly to trust me to photograph celebrities, just don't expect me to create their celebrity if it doesn't already exist through some sort of dynamic use of photography or lighting. I'm not that guy, which of course you already know. Anyway, yeah, famous people... the exception is of course the incredible and incredibly talented people who also happen to be popular or famous. While writing this I've been listening to Gonzalo Rubalcaba, a Cuban jazz pianist who now lives in South Florida, and who I was lucky enough to meet and photograph recently (though not lucky enough to make an interesting portrait of through a lack of time and his exceptional shyness). Meeting and getting to spend a little bit of time with artists and musicians who are filled with passion is one the best parts of my job. (I'd really, really, really like someone to hire me to spend a week photographing actor/writer/historian/magician Ricky Jay at some point. Huh? Ricky who? I promise, you've seen and heard him, you just don't know how amazing he is).

The Fader intern, from the first paragraph, had actually asked me the generic "what was your favorite assignment?" sort of question, which is what led us down the whole hating celebrity path. I probably answered, "well, I'm not sure, but I really just like meeting real people and learning about their stories." And that's the thing of it. Real people are so much more interesting to me, both because they are usually more interesting often than our beloved celebrities, and that the digging into who they are and what is important to them is often such an exciting and surprising journey that enlarges my view of myself and the world. (I'm reminded of the monologue in Adaptation where Chris Cooper's character is describing the relationship between each orchid and the insect that pollinates it and that their dance in effect teaches us how to live). Because they are "real," and I consider myself in that category, and because they have given me the privilege of entering into their life and sharing of their passion, everyday/normal people (which I'm trying to use in the best way possible) are by far my favorite to photograph. And in photographing them I can give myself the best possibility of sharing something and connecting; something that is already too rare in life.

This is a portrait of Jerry Beam, one of the real and amazing people I've met recently, on my botched assignment in Orlando for Newsweek to photograph the city's new law against feeding its homeless population. Jerry has been living in Orlando for about 9 months since his truck broke down on his trip South from Columbia, SC, with his girl, Cheryl, below middle. They've recently been living under an overpass of US-408 near downtown with several dozen others, but its been getting bad out there with a bunch of young punks trying to hurt some of the older members of the community (they killed an elderly homeless man earlier this year). Jerry has been trying to get work and move Cheryl into one of the shelters for women, but spaces are very tight and the men's side of the shelter is more dangerous than living on the streets themselves. They, and homeless people all over the nation, depend on the efforts and charity of churches and community groups to give them a hot meal and a bit more time to get their lives back.

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Mi familia

Members of the beginning level Panhandle Jazz Band warm up before performing at Stubb's Music Studio's fall recital in Tallahassee, FL.

I went home this last weekend to Tallahassee to see my younger brother perform in a fall concert and it was great both to hear him and see my family. Witnessing Mikey become more interested in music and in creating and engaging in the arts has been a very cool process to follow over the last several years. More recently he's started to get deeper into jazz and improvisation, which is pretty much the raddest thing I can think of for a high school kid to learn about. I only wish that I knew who Charles Mingus was when I was 16. By the way, Mikey played very well both in solo on the piano and in the jazz band. (The above picture is of some of the other members of the jazz band).

This morning I finally had a chance to look through the few frames that I made of Mikey this weekend at the jazz recital, and I began to think about the role that photographing my family and personal life has played in my career. Taking pictures of their friends and family is a very natural thing for any photographer to do, but I came to it in earnest much later during college. And honestly, it was only when I turned the camera on my life, my friends, and my loved ones that I began to develop my sense of style and use of light. Because I had only ever wanted to be a newspaper photographer, it wasn't until I was exposed to work like Sylvia Plachy's, which ignored whatever invisible lines might have existed between personal and professional, that I found the incredible value in trying to make good pictures of my favorite people.

Photographing my family became the way through which I was able to find my own voice in a sense. I was free to shoot things anyway that I liked, and to try new methods and techniques that stuck me in the work of my heroes. And in shooting people that I love I was connected to the deep well of emotion that can reside in a photograph that makes it rise above images made without such care for the subject. That sounds strange but I didn't get that before in such an immediate way. It's so simple though. Pictures made with love result in photographs that have a special power about them. And its held true throughout my career. To this day the best body of work that I've ever created is almost certainly my essay on the end of my grandfather's life (Life After Grammie), which was a project that developed purely out of my need to be with him during that time and try to understand how he could feel finished with living.

Despite my enthusiasm for photographing loved ones I'm actually very bad about including myself in that category. My girlfriend and I really don't have any good pictures of us together and she's often complained of how that's possible considering my profession. So, to my dear girlfriend: I hereby promise to make more pictures of us together before the end of this year! There I've said it. Shit, that could be a dangerous precedent actually. Before you know it she'll have me using the blog to promise to clean the dishes or wash my clothes more often.

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On Assignment: Martin County, FL

If you're rubbing your eyes about now at why something seems a bit different at Drinking with a Dead Man, you can stop. Something is different. And shit, there is even a RSS feed in the house! That's right, the blog has been revamped and moved into the 21st century with some amazing help from an extremely talented friend and Movable Type. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again. You'll now have a much easier time finding old posts in the archive (not sure that's a good thing), and also be more able to join the conversation using the comments (definitely bad).

Well, it was inevitable, someone at The New York Times read my last post. They haven't said anything, but I know they saw it from my site stats (they are regulars). So far there is nothing to report, and I'm pretty sure there will never be any drama. On the one hand my own self righteousness in that evaluation makes me pretty ill, but on the other I really think I was fair and, yep I'll say it, balanced. And thanks for all of the e-mail from those of you who have agreed. And speaking of all things NYT... here is the recap of my election coverage of the Negron/Mahoney race.

Bored after waiting for over 3 hours for Congressional candidate Joe Negron to greet his crowd of supporters on election night in Hutchinson Island, FL, 10-year old Heather Carroll, of Hobe Sound, distracts herself by playing with her cell phone while perched on the front of the stage.

I was already interested in the 16th Congressional district election before I got a call from the Times last week. It's an easy "yes" -- you got a Republican sex scandal which forces a family values line-toer to resign in disgrace, which then forces the national GOP troops to find a new squeaky clean home town guy just 5 weeks before election day to face off against a first-time Democratic candidate, and a week before election day the race is nearly a dead heat. When my editor told me that I'd be heading to Stuart I also had cause to be excited because a good friend of mine from college works for the paper there and I knew that he had already started a project on Joe Negron. What could be better than working on a great story with a good friend?

Unfortunately, all of that excitement started to melt away as soon as I met Joe Negron. Joe is actually less animated than Al Gore. That's right, less. He doesn't make eye contact, he constantly looks away from the people in an uncomfortable way, and he blinks at all the wrong times. This guy is made of wood. He also struck me as a really nice, straight-forward, and honest candidate, but that doesn't translate into my photography, and so for the first half of my day on Tuesday I was in pretty bad shape. OK, so the candidate isn't that media friendly or savvy, no big deal, I thought; it'll just take me a little longer to get some good stuff of him. Ouch, strike two. Negron's official schedule for election day only had 2 events on it... one at 9 a.m., and his trip to the polls with his family at 11 a.m. That's it. His media people assured me that he was spending the rest of the day holed away and was not interested in any media tagging along. Uhhh... and so by lunchtime I was worried about what I was going to be able to provide for my client, especially because press is not allowed to come within 100 feet of a voting center in Martin County.

After lunch I got a break and found out that Negron was actually heading out to each polling station that he could to deliver snacks and bottled water to volunteers. This is one of Joe's traditions, which is great, but I was pretty shocked to hear that he was still doing it in the afternoon. When I left him in mid-morning to file my first set of pictures he was driving around passing out water. And hours later when I caught back up with him at 5 p.m. he was still at it. I'm not sure how I would spend an election day if I was ever insane enough to run for something, but I'm not sure it would be spending 6 hours making sure there wasn't a single thirsty person in all of Martin County. The good part about Joe's tradition was that by the late afternoon everyone else had lost interest in his quest, and as I followed him from voting center to voting center it was just the two of us. No campaign people, no other members of the media. Me, Joe, and hundreds of bottles of water and Nutri Grain bars (in strawberry or blueberry). It was a beautiful rainy afternoon for the two of us, until at one stop when I became so excited that Joe was actually smiling and animated talking with supporters that I didn't notice I was crouching down in a giant ant hill. I still didn't notice until I got in my car to follow Negron to the next stop and tried to not run into other cars while killing the hundred or so ants running into my jeans.

Fast-forward into the evening and the election night party for the Republican candidate at the Hutchinson Island Marriott (posh). I got there 20 minutes early (after stopping to file my pictures for the second of 5 times on the night that the NYT had demanded that I do so) and found the ballroom already humming with journalists and camera crews getting ready. I plopped down my laptop on a table right off the ballroom floor which was so close that I could have easily shot his upcoming speech from my chair if I was another type of photographer. As soon as I booted up my computer the free wireless network came right up, and my buddy Matt arrived just after me to take one of the last laptop spots right next to me. We were in business. Then the waiting started.

Now I haven't covered an election in some time. I'm not even sure how long its been, but I had forgotten how fucking long you have to wait for something, anything to happen. I arrived 90 minutes before the candidate was supposed to arrive (8 p.m.) and greet his supporters, but by 10:30 (well past my last A1 deadline) there was still no sign of Joe Negron. The hours were passed with a lot of bullshitting, flash tests (its been acting up, and I almost never use it anyway), and watching the AP guy accost the head press manager for the campaign every 15 minutes for an update. Working with Matt I thought a lot about how much I do miss the community aspect of shooting for newspapers and getting to know your colleagues over time. I also thought a bit about how incredibly useful zoom lenses are for political events. I did just fine with my primes (I think I shot the whole night with only the 28 and 50), but I was definitely a bit behind everyone else in tight situations.

At long last, and well after most of the crowd had gone home, there was an announcement that Joe was going to take the stage in just a couple of minutes. The happy band of still shooters all made our knot right at the front of the stage (which situated at too high of an angle for us to get a nice clean background from down in front; fucking broadcast journalism), and as I tried to cover yet another yawn (I woke up early to drive the 2.5 hours up to Stuart from Miami) I began to panic. What I mean is that I began to feel light headed right there standing front and center before the press and few hundred Negron fans, and because I knew what feeling light headed was going to mean (I was 30 second away from blacking out) I started to panic. Three times in the last 6 years, due to a combination of stress, lack of sleep, not eating, being dehydrated, and sometimes being in crowds, I've fainted. Once was really good, as I flat out dropped to the floor in the middle of a packed concert, scaring the shit out of my buddy Scott (who wasn't so upset that he didn't leave me for a few minutes, after I had come to and been taken care of with some water, to get the lead singer of Azure Ray's phone number... it was unsuccessful I think).

The panic in this case was 2-fold. On the one hand I didn't want to faint in the middle of the photo pool and crowd, fall down on someone most likely, and snap back up very embarrassed. On the other, and what was making me far more upset, I really didn't want to risk missing Negron's entrance and speech. I really only had one course of action... I turned around, left my prime spot in front, and waded through the crowd towards the back of the room where there was a banquet of refreshments. I grabbed a bottle water, gulped it down in 2 sips and then just about dunked my head in the cold ice water that the bottles were sitting in. After repeating the dunking for bottled water trick twice more I grabbed a big piece of melon, gobbled that up, dried off my face, and concentrated on a few deep breaths (its amazing how we forget to breath sometimes). 45 seconds after I felt very close to fainting I was almost completely fine, and went straight back into the fire. Negron entered 60 seconds after that and I didn't miss a single thing.

So much of shooting politics is the luck of which position that you are assigned or choose for yourself. That night I guessed well enough to catch this little thing that Joe did with his tongue right after announcing that he was conceding the race to his opponent. He then hugged his wife and closed his eyes (my friend Matt was blocked by the podium and got the stinky end of that stick) and I redeemed my boring photography of most of the day with a very strong final take. 2 minutes after the end of Negron's speech I was at my laptop editing through the files. Right before the speech I had the idea of switching to JPEG instead of RAW files so that I wouldn't have any problems with buffer during what I thought would probably be a very short delivery, and that ended up being a really good idea. Not only was I able to shoot very quickly but it cut down my editing time significantly and I had my 5th take off to the NYT more than 45 minutes before my final, final deadline.

The following day I woke up early after very little sleep and one too many bourbons (after election drink with the gang) in my great uncle's beach condo on Hutchinson Island. My plan was to take a quick shower and then meet up ASAP with the winner of the previous night's congressional race, Democrat Tim Mahoney, and document his victory lap also for the Times. I was moving pretty sluggishly and so it took me about 30 seconds of staring at the shower head to figure out what was wrong. There wasn't any water. I traced what I thought was supposed to work with my eyes... lever up, over to hot water, up to shower head... no water. I then went to the bathroom sink. No water. Kitchen, nope. A foggy thought began to emerge that my family turns off the main water supply to the apartment each time they leave. No problem... I'll just turn it back on. 15 minutes later I still had no idea where the water was turned on from. I found breaker boxes and water heaters... but I was stumped. So, because I thought it wise to spare the world "un-washed John" for the remainder of the day, I decided on an alternative, and quickly jumped into my bathing suit and grabbed a bar of soap, and headed for the pool where I was sure I would find an ocean rinse off shower. I was right about the shower, but wrong about the gamble that there wouldn't be anyone else out early in the morning to witness my ridiculous dance. There was.

The rest of today's work was pretty standard and not worth detailing. I eventually met up with Tim at his headquarters in Palm Beach Gardens. He was so exhausted by the campaign and late night that instead of a "victory lap" all he had planned was a few hours in his office taking care of some immediate business (a few hundred phone calls to media and supporters). After 2 hours I had worked the situation in just about every way that I could, none of which made for interesting images, and then got back on I-95 to head home. What a special gift I was for my girlfriend when I arrived: a partially unshowered freelance photographer with a couple dozen ant bites all over his legs and a giant grin on his face after 2 hours of NPR coverage of the Democrat's day in the sun.

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Hi, my name is John and I work for The New York Times.

At first I just did it a little, here and there. Ya know, maybe one weekend every couple of months. No big deal, I told myself, I can handle it. Before long I was hitting the streets every week, sometimes going miles for the Times. I still didn't own up to what was happening even then. All of my friends were doing it, how bad could it really be?! (Mumbling turns into sobbing... clapping from room, as people congratulate me for being brave enough to share).

NYT is not a drug, but sometimes its role in the freelance photography industry seems to play the part of a dealer. Maybe its more like the pimp? As a contributor to the Times for the last few years, I have a lot of mixed feelings about working with the paper on several different levels, some absolute and ideal, and others relative to the industry at large. The sum total of my thoughts about NYT mimic a favorite movie of mine... and so this post may also be named, "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the New York Times."

To begin with absolutism... the New York Times is not a great client and should pretty much be ashamed of itself by the way its anemic national and metro day rates have been allowed to stay so unbearably low for so long (especially after cutting its digital "transmission fee" after the end of the beginning of the digital revolution in photography). For those of you who do not know, the Times pays a $200 day rate for its assignments outside of the city (a couple of sections have special rates, however, including Travel and, of course, the magazines (Sunday, T, Play, etc.). $200 is terrible and as the paper of record in this country, its both deeply insulting and plain pathetic. (NYT is my only newspaper client; 99% of my editorial clients are magazines, and so I won't speak about the poor rates of several other large American newspapers, who should also be ashamed of themselves). Though the paper does pay for expenses (mileage, hotel, etc.), and now with its new online invoicing system pays very fast (relatively), it now has (this summer) all but outlawed paying for meals while on assignment, in addition to a digital fee.

But what strikes me as the real problem with the low rate is the effect I feel that it has (though this hasn't been proven by any scientific study I've heard of) on rates throughout the rest of the industry. If the Times has decided that $200 is a respectable amount to pay its photographers, then why should any other major U.S. daily pay more than that? Why should a newspaper across the world, since the Gray Lady is international recognized as bastion of credibility, pay more? Furthermore, disregarding whatever negative pressure the $200 may exert on other papers or magazines, just think of what the industry could be missing by the lack of a situation where a publishing behemoth like NYT steps up and says to the rest of the industry, "we've allowed this insanely low rate to exist for far too long, and we are going to lead the charge in bringing the photography day rate up to the increasing standard of living in the U.S." The cost of not having the Times do just that, which is both the right thing and its duty, is even higher than negative balances in its' contributors' bank accounts.

Money aside (which doesn't require heavy lifting, folks), working with the Times also has its pitfalls for the freelancer (still speaking within absolute terms). Due to the daily nature of its publication, NYT photo editors often call their contributors so last minute that in order to take the assignment the photographer must literally jump up from whatever they were, or were not, doing and run out the door. Not only are the assignments often last minute, but they are also often put under extremely tight deadlines that hinder any ability to complete the assignment with any sort of creativity or style on the photographer's part. And because the final editing decisions at the newspaper are still run by word editors, even if there were time for being creative and dynamic its still a futile and depressing effort. In the last 3 years I've shot some pretty nice frames for the Times. (I've also shot some really bad ones). But almost nothing of the best photography that I've created for the NYT has ever seen the light of day. (Relative to other magazines this is not surprising or even significant; but relatively to other national newspapers, the photo play and editing in the NYT, though greatly improving, is still not even close to par for the vast majority of its contributors).

OK, so that was a lot of idealistic jabber about why the newspaper sucks. It's all true, but its not the full picture. Some of you reading may be wondering why I haven't yet breached the much-maligned contract NYT contributors must sign. Oh, but don't worry, that's next. However, unlike so many other of my colleagues, I'm going to put the contract in the "relative" category... which I think is one of the big misconceptions about the Times that shouldn't paint it so darkly.

Relatively speaking, and this is where I begin to (in my personal terms) dig the paper from out of the dog house, the New York Times offers its contributors a pretty decent working environment and relationship to documenting what is going on in the world. It's not perfect, but its not terrible either. $200 is really bad, but its not a complete work for hire agreement which means that at the end of the day I own 50% of the copyright of the images that I created for this client, and am free (as is the paper) resell them and make money on top of my assignment rate. (I've been able to do this trick dozens of times). 50%, you exclaim?! What in the fuck? Yes, the NYT contributors agreement specifies that the newspaper owns 50% of the copyright of the images selected and turned in on an assignment. That's not good. But I'm always amazed by freelance photographers who want to hold up this relatively short and partially benign document and exclaim that it is the true evil in all of the land. The NYT contract isn't good, but it isn't evil. It's somewhere in the middle, way to the left of the copyright grabbing insanity of Condé Nast agreements, Rodale 'buyout" clauses, and many, many other full "work for hire" rip-offs. There are dozens of MUCH worse contracts to get all riled up about. (And of course this is another place where the NYT should be duty bound to lead the charge and offer photographers what they deserve). But I've said my peace... the NYT contract is not the problem.

To flesh out the second part of the first sentence in the previous paragraph... the reason why I continue to work for the paper is, quite honestly, that I haven't given up on practicing journalism yet. You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen: LOOMIS BELIEVES IN JOURNALISM, LIFE. STORY 1D. When the NYT calls me up (for those of you who haven't had that "honor," you'll then figure out what the title of this post refers to), most times they want me to work on a story about something that is actually a fucking story. Not every time, sadly, but the percentage is so far ahead of every other client that I have, I don't even want to calculate it. I've already bashed journalism school earlier in my posts, but I did go to one and I did it because I believed in what informing and educating people means for our country and the world we live in. By continuing to work for the NYT (though I don't do it very often anymore), I feel that I'm allowing myself to remain connected to stories that are important to me and to my fellow citizens. This may put me in the minority -- and jesus, I vote every single time for city, state, and national elections as well (talk about idealistic) too -- but the possibility of working on a story with some meat on its bones is enough to make me want to suck up whatever other problems I may have and get my hands dirty.

And to continue that line of thought... I grew up in newspapers. I love newspapers. I love the New York Times. There will always (at least in my lifetime) be printed newspapers to fold and crease and get your fingers dirty by, and that's something that I'm deeply connected to. When I work for the NYT I remember being on my 5 different internships and working my ass off. I remember a time in my life where everything was exciting and where I was learning so much about the world and myself. I remember disgusting coffee stains and decrepit newspaper offices. I remember the begining of my passion for photography and journalism. Personally that is a very powerful reason to believe in what the Times stands for and where it may take us as a country in the future.

So, as often is the case, the relative trumps the absolute in my life and I continue to feed my addiction. In fact I got a call from the NYT's national desk yesterday asking me to work on the Negron/Mahoney congressional race on election day next week (running for the seat that Mark Foley use to occupy) and I was excited to say, "yes, I'm available." The Foley race has been captivating my attention for weeks, and I'll be able to work on its alongside a few friends of mine at other newspapers. And I'll be working on a real story; and honest-to-god piece of journalism. Sweet!

I'd like to end this by disclosing to a few other pieces of this puzzle that I've been lucky to avoid, but that are important parts that should not go unmentioned. Many contributors continue to work for the NYT, and many other newspapers who also have crappy rates or contracts, for reasons that have nothing to do with my own, but simply because they absolutely must in order to pay their rent and continue to even be a photographer by trade. As I've said before, I'm really lucky here. The only reason I can even afford to write an entire post that contains some truth about the Times is that I don't have to work for them anymore. If they get pissed and decide they don't want to call me anymore, that's not going to mean much to my overall business. I have other clients that I have strong problems and feelings about, and I wouldn't dream of laying them all out for one of my editors to read up on.

I'd also like to say that like other problem publications, the Times has some really wonderful editors who are great to work with, and regardless of being a good editor or a bad one, when you are working on breaking news events time crunches are often the name of the game (my critique wasn't directed at the occasions when there is an unavoidable timing issue and therefore the editor needs a photographer to deliver the good quickly). But when working with some of the bad or lazy editors, a very low day rate is especially a problem because the photographer may end up having to actually do two separate jobs, the editing/coordinating and the shooting, and that is not only outrageous, its completely unprofessional and shouldn't happen. My usual MO now with the NYT and other clients who have given me problems in the past is to never say "yes" first. The first question is always "are you free?" and I answer, "maybe, what's the story." If I don't like the story, or think its going to be too much hassle for the money, I politely say that I can't do it. There is some backlash against acting this way, but that's just because of the sorry state of power politics within the industry.

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