Catching Up ... from January

The thing with shooting film is that it takes a while to get it processed, edited, run through Photoshop and then uploaded. As I finish this, which has awaited my uploading it as I took a new day job, five more rolls of film await the Photoshop treatment.

Why Photoshop? The simple answer is that it's quicker and requires less space than chemically printing and then scanning the prints. The more complicated answer is that almost no picture is ready for viewing straight out of the camera. Ansel Adams, it is said, thought of the negative as sheet music, and printing as the performance. I run all my pictures through a process, ensuring the color is correct, the contrast is what I want. There's the electronic equivalent of burning and dodging, and removing dust spots.

I won't do anything -- at least I don't like to do anything -- that I couldn't have done in a darkroom, and wouldn't have done as a matter of course as a photojournalist. Ironically, some of those techniques -- techniques I consider photojournalistic -- have come under controversy lately, like in this piece about contest winners: http://blog.photoshelter.com/2012/03/should-photo-contests-require-original-image-files/. Personally, my apporoach is like Potter Stewart's to pornography: I'll know I've passed the limit when I see it.

At any rate, the picture above needed very little processing. We were in Lexington Antiques, selling some things to the store's owner, when I noticed the sunlight spilling in through the front window. What photographer could resist that light and texture?

God, with his infinitely ironic sense of humor, gave us the birthdays of Robert E. Lee, "Stonewall" Jackson and Martin Luther King, Jr., all within days of each other in mid-January. In Lexington, where both Jackson and Lee are buried, the Confederate generals' birthdays have been celebrated in past years with greater and larger amounts of pomp and ceremony, depending on the amount of government involvment and history enthusiasts ... uh, enthusiasm.

This past year, however, there was more attention as the local Sons of Confederate Veterans engaged in their second year of lobbying to hang Confederate flags from lightposts throughout the weekend ... including the Monday holiday for King. The city responded with an ordinance limiting flags on city property to the US and Virginia state flags. The SCV promptly sued.

When no progress had been made by the day in question, SCV members responded by calling on supporters to stand by the lightposts, holding their flags.

Each lightpost was conveniently labeled with a tag, so the various SCV chapters could find their place.

Bob and I did a live shot at the Roanoke Civic Center for the annual Guns & Hoses Hockey Game, a fundraiser for the Muscual Ystrophy Association. Here, a policeman texts the Roanoke Police Chief to find out when he'll arrive to be interviewed.

The sign amused me.

Downtown Lynchburg in the predawn darkness. We were at Amazement Center, which is just out of frame to the right.

I convinced Bob, towards the end of January and about a week before we both left channel 7, that we had to do something on Djangoary and Gypsy swing music. A local band was performing that weekend; I had grand visions of an artful piece. It all ended with a simple taped interview, some B-Roll of the band practicing ... and us locked out of the venue in the foggy predawn darkness.

It's ironic, I think, that I shot these pictures in that predawn, reminiscent, if I dare make the comparison, of the work of early street photographers in Paris in the time when Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli were creating that very form of jazz.

11-26-11

The scene of the killing.

Each morning, the Assistant Producer calls around to the local police and fire departments to see if anything is going on. In addition, when a major crime or arrest has occurred, the police will send out a news release. In the past, they faxed it, but now they just send an email. One weekend morning, we got an email from Christiansburg.

A three-year-old was dead; a man was under arrest for the killing. Typically, there weren't many more details than that. Reporter Holly Pietrzak and I drove down there all the same; sadly, this sort of thing is the very definition of "news." This is the address the police gave. There was no one at home. A child seat rested in the back of the car parked in front, as if waiting to take its tiny passenger on the next errand in just a moment. A big wheel sat abandoned out back.

The neighbors knew nothing of the death, and had little to offer about the people who lived there.

This seemed to me typical of our experience of this sort of story. We get the email and hurry down, gather what facts that we can, then drive on. Our view is nothing more than a brief glimpse from the inside of a news car...

Election day, 2011. Poll workers straighten out the paperwork and setup the electronic voting machines before things begin.

Reporter Joe Dashiell listens while a community group discusses the drawbacks of uranium mining in Virginia. We had been invited to listen in on the gathering at an apartment in Roanoke.

Assistant Producer Molly Binion digs into ice cream we brought back from the Homestead Creamery, while anchor Kimberly McBroom waits her turn.

Just inside the entrance to the Virginia Museum of Transportation, early on a day after I had shot some B-Roll of one of the train engines on display there. I couldn't resist the light spilling in from the front door...

The setup for a women's luncheon at the Taubman Museum of Art in downtown Roanoke. I really like the scrambled patterns of light and shadow, chair and table...

Every time they play at Virginia Tech's Lane Stadium, the field must be painted. Lines and number, hash marks and logos, and perhaps most importantly: the words "Virginia Tech" in the end zones. Before one particularly big game, a game that induced our News Director to bring the whole show out in the field for the day under the banner "Hokie Hoopla," Bob did a "Do My Job" painting the letters. He did the R. It looked pretty good, really. This is the guy who normally does the job, continuing to work after we finished filming.

A presentation on a new theater at Center in the Square...

Just as the 11-o'clock news starts on Saturday. The anchors sit in their places, the lights up, the cameras in place. In the foreground, the network's program winds through the final credits ...

11-7-11 Addenda

Inside the Homestead Dairy. As I shot it while filming a "Do My Job, Bob," I guess this could have gone with the earlier post, but it seemed more appropriate here. The bottles (real glass, just like the old days) are loaded into the crates by hand. In a neighboring room, ice cream is still hand-packed into the containers. Really a heartwarming place to see at work.

Outside dance class, on nice days, they have this little table, and in the late afternoon the setting sun shines between the buildings across the street, casting artful shadows.

Inside dance class, we all remove our shoes before going in. The scattered little shapes had a sort of Jackson Pollock aspect for me, as well as telling a little story.

Halloween at the International House of Washington & Lee University...

Before the political rally at Roanoke Airport. I was told I was to cover the governor arriving -- a quick hello, maybe a sound bite, then into the car and off to a day of campaigning. We just needed something for the noon news. But the posters started going up, and the politicians started arriving, and the crowd gathered, and it began to become clear this was something more than advertised. As things prepared to kick off, a texted a photo back to the newsroom showing a lineup of a dozen or so politicos lined up, as if waiting for ice cream, behind the lectern -- the governor, lieutenant governor, state attorney general, congressmen, state senators, etc., etc. "This could take a while," I wrote ... and it did.

But I did enjoy this classic scene of American politics: two volunteers making sure their candidate's poster was up behind the speakers' platform.

And here the crowd listens to the speakers. I felt foolish later to learn that the woman at far right is Octavia Johnson, Roanoke's sheriff. I had no idea at the time...

11-7-11 Scenes from work

Martinsville Speedway at dawn, the day before racing. This is one of the few times I have to admit that color would be preferable; the light -- blue and pink as the sun rose behind the clouds -- was remarkable.

Bob did a feature story working with the guys who paint the signs around the track. You don't much think about it, but every time the racers scrape the wall, let alone run into it, they take off the paint ... and those companies pay big money.

After the live shot, there was a nearby country diner our satellite truck operator, Sam Doyle (right) knew about. Classic. They had an egg and pork tenderloin that was all that is good about Southern breakfast cooking.

For Halloween, downtown Roanoke has special promotions, which we previewed that morning. That is why Bob is standing in the chill, predawn darkness, inputting material onto the station website ... while dressed as an Angry Bird. The things we will do for television. To his credit, the promoter dressed as King Pig.

On the set, chief meteorologist Robin Reed, off duty in his jeans, chats with Brent Watts ...

The production crew talks with anchor Chris Hurst (far right, of course -- he's the only one in a suit) before the show.

Another "Do My Job, Bob," was at a local country music station, 94.9 Star Country, where the co-anchor of the morning show was out sick.

DJ Brett Sharp Laughs at a joke from Bob while monitoring the board.

The news from Hollywood.

"Boomer" occasionally steps in during the show to add to the hilarity, but spends much of the time off to the side like this. An unassuming figure when you first see him, he has a wicked (in both the figurative and literal sense) of humor, at one point prodding Bob and Brett into a series of increasingly obscene double entendres while supposedly discussing how to put together a TV newscast.

Shot with the 35mm f2 Summicron on an M3 using Kodak's BW400CN film.

10-25-11

Occupy ... Blacksburg. It wasn't a large protest, but big enough for the normally quiet college town, and as orderly and reasoned as one might expect.



The director of Opera Roanoke reviews his music backstage at the Jefferson Center in between live interview segments for the morning show. He would actually at moments start to gesture as if conducting the orchestra right there.


Also backstage, in a way, this is the floor of the Roanoke Civic Center as they set up the ring for the Ringling Bros and Barnum & Bailey Circus. We did a morning show segment after filming one of the "Do My Job, Bob" stories. In the foreground, the hard hat they handed Bob when we did some of the early, heavy lifting parts. He didn't need it so much when he had to shovel elephant poop.


The circus is actually a great live segment, and their PR realizes the value of local TV in promotion. They -- as personified by Jillian Collett, seen here -- couldn't have made things easier. Behind, we see the competition, Channel 13, also set up for their morning show.


When clowns get bored...


I-Hsiung Ju, master brush painter and my art professor in college. As with many things in college, I didn't properly exploit the opportunity he presented. For one thing, I never took a course in traditional Chinese brush painting from him, something I have tried to rectify in adulthood as time and money have permitted.

He sits here in the Staniar Art Gallery at Washington and Lee University, behind him a monumental series of scrolls.


Following the show, we gathered at the home of one of his other former -- and in many ways still current, though himself a master brush painter -- students.

Mr. Ju or Professor Ju, as he is fixed in my mind despite retiring years ago, is a truly Great Man, a witness to, participant in and (sometimes just barely) survivor of history. He studied traditional Chinese art from childhood -- his was a family of artists -- was drawn into the war with Japan, was wounded, then escaped to the Philippines as the Communist Revolution drew to a close. His stories are always a delight, though his still thick accent slowly sinks into my mind along with them, until I find myself speaking in broken English by the end of the evening.

10-8-11

Sometimes, after the nightmare that is a live shot in the predawn darkness in a farm field, the morning light brings on something quite lovely...

We were doing a preview of the Smith Mountain Lake Wine Festival. The morning became a recipe for disaster: To start with, it was essentially at night and in a big field. The autumn weather brought out a thick fog in the cool air. And to top it all off, it was one of the rare days Bob Grebe -- the correspondent who was to conduct the interview -- called in sick.

On the positive side, they had already set up the tents for the vendors, so I had something to light in the background, and the Chamber of Commerce spokesman was an old hand at interviews, able to interact easily with our anchor back in the studio.

But after, as we tore down and I shot some B-Roll for the short story recapping the festival preview, to be shown at noon, the fog made the tents and field and interesting place of mystery, like something out of Ray Bradbury or Dr. Lao.

This is an horticultural center at the Virginia Western Community College in Roanoke, a resource we're often able to call on for Bob's garden segments every Wednesday. I just thought the interaction of the texture, light and structure was interesting.

Bob talks with Clark Becraft of VWCC in preparation for filming a story.

Lately, we've been working on a popular weekly segment called "Do My Job, Bob," in which Grebe tries to take on others' jobs ... usually with only moderate success. The first we shot was making doughnuts at a local place called Blue Collar Joe's. We did the live shot at his downtown Roanoke location, Uptown Joe's.

Here we see Bob, as usual, trying to upload information to the web between live hits in the show...

I like this picture, even though it came in the middle of a very hectic and frustrating day, but I find it quite poignant in its way.

This is the setup for a military funeral, after the family has left the burial site. The Army, long experienced in these things, arranged a small packet of tissues in every family member's seat. However, the soldier buried that day went missing during the Korean War. Lost and captured by the North Koreans, he starved to death as a POW. His remains were finally returned with a number of others in a mass repatriation. After identification by the military lab in the US, he was finally returned to the family, which had him buried with full honors in Pulaski, Virginia, on a cool autumn day under a light drizzle. It was some 60 years after his loss. A young man when he died, the soldier had neither a wife nor children. None of the tissue packs was used.

On another "Do My Job, Bob," he learned how to do glass blowing, a task that seemed to particularly delight Bob. I was terrified throughout the shoot, as I spent most of my time between the table and bench in the foreground, where they were maneuvering molten glass on the end of a long tube, and the furnaces in the background, averaging about 2000 degrees.

It was a tight fit as it was, but the TV camera makes you blind to the right side and behind you, making it easy to back into something ... something very hot. Somehow, we made it through the shoot without incident.

H&J Tire in Lexington, one of my favorite businesses these days. That's my car in the background, and that's one of those pathetic not-really-a-tire spares on the front right. I popped the tire (yep, popped it -- ran into a big hole in the road) on the way home for work, but needed to be back at work before dawn the following morning. They had me changed out with a new tire, without warning, in an hour.

I love living in a small town.

Back at Smith Mountain Lake, another morning fog makes for another lovely landscape. I think I'm beginning to understand why people pay a lot of money for homes there...

This amused me. These are Northside high school students on the roof of their school building. We had all gone up there to make pictures of the student body on the playing fields below, standing in the shape of a giant pink ribbon. Climbing up the twelve-foot ladder through the hatch to get to the roof was easy enough for them, I guess. (It was somewhat more difficult for me with the tripod you see in the background and my twenty-something-pound camera -- I've had problems with that before.)

But the getting down apparently presented more of a problem. Here they look into the tiny abyss with horror.

In the end, the greatest problem was ensuring no males were beneath as they clambered down in their tiny miniskirts...