Another life claimed by silence

Three young children became motherless this weekend. 

Their mother, only 29 years old, died Saturday morning in a fire that destroyed the East Manhattan Ave. home. It was reported in the Toledo Blade that Misty McClung's death was accidental. However, it might have been preventable.

According to the article, the home did not have a working smoke detector. Were there detectors at all? If so, were the batteries dead or missing? I posted an earlier blog about this very subject June 22. The odds of surviving a house fire when there are no working smoke detectors is tragically low. 

Those poor children are now homeless and motherless. Misty didn't have a chance against the smoke because it first puts you into a deeper sleep, then suffocates you. It's the smoke that kills sleeping occupants, not the fire. 

I've covered enough fires to make me extremely paranoid. I want you to be paranoid, too, especially if you have children, pets, roommates, whatever. Please check your house or apartment for working smoke detectors. Read my earlier blog for more fire safety tips.  

If you don't have smoke detectors, buy a couple. They're cheap compared to your life. 

Processing film the old fashioned way

Black and white film. Unfortunately, it's a dying art form in our digital society, but not at Owens! More than 100 students are shooting, processing and printing black and white film this semester, proving the demand is still high. 

My 14 students processed their 1st roll of film Monday, and it was thrilling to see the excitement in their eyes when they witnessed the magic of Sprint, stop bath and fixer chemicals. 

B&W 1 is my favorite class to teach because students are taught to think and see for themselves. Therefore, shooting manually is a requirement. There's no better way than to learn ISOs, shutter speeds and f-stops. They learn to depend on their camera meters, rather than the back of their digital camera screens.

Next week: evaluating light. 

(Photos: Students processing their first roll of film in the Owens darkroom.)

Welcome Home!

Hello my sisters (and brothers)! 

Yes, I'm recovering from culture shock. I'm not the only one, though. About 3,000 other womyn are suffering a similar fate of adjusting to societal normalcy again. If you've ever been to The Land at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival in Hart, Mich., then you know what I'm talking about. 

Here are some of the numbers: 34 years in existence. 7 days long. 650-acre wooded land, owned by Lisa Vogel, who started the fest when she was 19. 3,000 womyn and children. Dozens of musical and comedic performers. 3 stages. Countless memories. Mich Fest = priceless. 

Mich Fest happens every August. Womyn from all over the world arrive to the Land to enjoy live music, freedom and each other. Upon arrival,  we're greeted at the entrance gate with "Welcome Home!" Tents and RVs are temporary living quarters. Free vegetarian meals are served 3 times a day. Every womyn is expected to work 2 4-hour work shifts to keep the fest going. This year I worked garbage and recycling. Other duties to choose from include childcare, kitchen, traffic, medical tent, stage set-up, etc. In other words, it's very organized.

The biggest draw, of course, is live music. 

Once you're on the land, you're free to dress or undress however you like. There's a sign at the exit gate that reminds you to put your clothes back on when you leave. And so the culture shock begins... 

Goodbye, Mich Fest. See you next year!

Photos and Perverts

The other day a neighbor came to my house to solicit a signature for another neighbor who was running for the Toledo School Board. After a brief conversation, she realized who I was and exclaimed, "Oh, you're the photographer who put my daughter in the Blade!"

She then went on to explain how that photo of her teen daughter soaking up the sun in her backyard had gotten the attention of a prisoner in jail. He had seen the girl's picture, looked up her last name and street in the phone book and called her at home. Fortunately, the mother answered the phone both times, preventing her daughter from speaking or even knowing about this undesireable stranger. I don't blame the mom for being annoyed and frightened with that photo, because it prompted a man to call her daughter from prison! 

The photo, taken years ago, was innocent enough: She was sunbathing in her bathing suit and, because it was hot, and I mean HOT, she had brought out a typical household fan to keep her cool. I happened to drive by and saw this. In my defense, I don't think a single photographer seeking features for a paper would pass that up. I also admit I'm a bit naive when it comes to the mind of perverts. It never entered my mind that this young girl could be harassed by prisoners or stalked by predators.

To make a long story short, my fortune of finding an interesting feature turned into someone else's perverted fantasy. 

The pictures photojournalists take for newspapers wind up in all kinds of places: refrigerator doors, scrap books, wall frames, and in the hands of prisoners. It was just an eye-opener for me. Should we include street names with these kinds of feature photos? Maybe not. 

Yes, we are responsible for filling news pages.  But are we responsible to our subjects  once our photos are published? I don't think so. We just need to be mindful of who we're putting in the paper, and who our readers are...

The international language of winning and losing

The Jamie Farr Owens Corning Classic at Highland Meadows has come and gone, but the thrill of it still lingers. 

I posted a Facebook message before the final round last weekend wondering what the odds were that a South Korean would win the Farr: 3 to 1. I would have taken that bet, considering Se Ri Pak alone won 5 times! This year Eugjung Yi, 21, will have her own street in Sylvania. Not bad, since she's only been competing in the LPGA for two years. That's incredible, considering South Korea is the size of Indiana. 

The huge Morgan Pressel crowd was disappointed, of course. And so was Paula Creamer, the defending champion who had to pull out due to a thumb injury. But the competition was exciting, no matter who won. Quick recap: Yi takes big early lead Round 3, and keeps that lead until the last few holes. Pressel caught up with her on Hole 17 and forced a replay on Hole 18. 

This kind of drama is exactly why I like shooting sports. Yi desperately wanted that ball to go into the hole, and I needed to capture her reaction when it did, or didn't.  That's what sports photography is all about.  The photos say it all: Yi's ball did plop into the hole, and Pressel's didn't.

Let's hope we have a tournament to talk about next year...

The Art of Storytelling

Storytelling. It's not a new concept. In fact, storytelling is one of the reasons photojournalism was born; back in the late 1800s when photos began to appear in newspapers because editors realized photos sold papers.

 Henry R. Luce’s Life Magazine was one of the first national publications that used large photos to tell stories. It was first published in 1936.

I remember sifting through those huge pages and thinking how great it would be to be published in Life. I came close once. I shot a story for the Associated Press on Mexican farm workers who would take their children to the fields with them. I spent days in the Northwest Ohio fields documenting babies and toddlers confined in playpens surrounded by wheat and corn. The story went national, but in newspapers, not Life.

Remember when you first learned Life was going to stop the presses? Sadly, it was just the beginning of the continuing steady demise of magazines and newspapers.

After relentlessly documenting the job losses of other people, like autoworkers and mortgage brokers, we are now tragically covering ourselves. I use the word tragically, because photojournalists are the eyes of the world. Our world needs photos to continue documenting job losses, discrimination, health crisis, war, poverty and political corruption.

It’s our job to bring these atrocities to light, because the average citizen doesn’t have the power or the stage to do it. How would we know about hunger in Ethiopia or the existence of the KKK without photos to prove these things exist?

Storytelling can be done with just one photo (think firefighter carrying the baby during the Oklahoma bombing) or a whole series of photos. These captured stories can be printed in newspapers/magazines or on-line. Either way, it’s an art form that should absolutely never die.

In another posting, I'll highlight a few schools and organizations that are raising the bar on the art of storytelling.

 

 

 

Warning: Protect Thyselves

I covered a fire safety meeting tonight for the Blade. I actually couldn't wait to attend because I'm a freak about fire safety, and seat belt safety, and water safety, stranger danger, etc. I'm convinced that anyone who does this job for a long time eventually suffers from post traumatic stress disorder. 

Photojournalists are up close and personal to so many disasters that we understand trauma and accidents can happen to anyone, anytime. I fear because I drive my children crazy with my hovering when they're riding bikes, swimming or playing on the jungle gym, they won't take me seriously when the danger is quite high, like when we walked the rim of the Grand Canyon last month. I was a maniac. "Watch your step!" "Don't walk too fast!" "Stay close to the left side!" I even got tired of hearing myself.

Despite my paranoia, I wouldn't change a thing, because I need to be able to sleep at night, knowing I did my best to protect them as much as you can prevent accidents, and that multiple smoke alarms strategically placed throughout my house are functional.

So I say this with motherly intuition: Make sure you have smoke alarms with fresh batteries in every bedroom and hallway; at least one fire ladder on the 2nd floor; and an escape plan that's well rehearsed. 

And please, take me seriously just this one time.