Bad News

“I’m not like other guys,” he says with desire in his eye.
“I know.” She smiles back at him. “That’s what I love about you.”
Of course, two minutes later, he’s a were cat, whatever that is. And she ends up suing for unpaid royalties. Seriously.

I guess it turns out those words were more prophetic than anyone could ever imagine. 750 million records sold, 13 Grammy Awards, 13 number one singles in his solo career, a Pepsi commercial gone awry, at least four nose jobs, a child molestation acquittal, and a heart attack later, the “King of Pop” is dead.

It seems appropriate that Michael Jackson ended up dying amid controversy and mystery at the young age of 50? Jessie Jackson is calling for answers. The live in doctor is dodging blame. And Jackson’s mother just got custody of three kids.

I remember the night quite well. It was a cold December evening. I was in the eighth grade and was trying to find my place in the high school band, an organization I could belong to and participate in even during my last year of elementary school. There was a party at Gwen Fordham’s house. Mark Hall, who played the clarinet, was totally obsessed with Michael Jackson. And MTV, an upstart cable network, was airing a new video—Thriller.

Jackson played only a small role in my musical life. Our marching band played “Beat It” on the field my 9th grade year. Occasionally, The Grapevine will break into a chorus or two of “Billy Jean”. And while 80’s tunes make up the largest playlist on my iPod, there’s not a single track from Jackson to be found.
Not that his reputation needed much embellishment, but Jackson supposedly often leaked inaccurate or sensational rumors to promote an upcoming project. The moniker of “Whacko Jacko” was earned. Unfortunately, his career and significance as a musician waned as his oddities and episodes of just plain weirdness piled up.

So on the same day that saw the loss of Johnny Carson’s sidekick and the Six Million Dollar Man’s former wife, Michael Jackson leaves this planet, perhaps for the one he came from. Only time will tell if history remembers him for those thirteen number one songs or for one white glove, a baby held over a railing, or endless jokes about boy’s pants at K-Mart.

Hot Shots

Just two weeks ago, I was shooting in the area around Duluth, Minnesota. And it was cold. Forty-five degrees. For a high. In June. Today, I shot a Little League All-Star baseball game and girl’s softball game in Warner Robins, Georgia. And it was hot. Very hot. My car said it was 102 when I pulled out of the parking lot.

I must admit, I had never shot much sports action before—kayaking, soccer, and some church league softball. So when a friend asked me to shoot their all-star softball team, I made time. Even better, the umpires at both games said, “do what you want, just don’t get on the playing field during the game.”

This was also my first chance to try out my 70-200mm f2.8 in action shots. At f2.8, I was able to really isolate the players against the background. This lens just has incredible bokeh, and in full sunlight—it’s not like they let me pick the game times to accommodate lighting—I was shooting at 1/1000 to 1/2000 most of the day. It’s not great for saturation, but it does an amazing job of freezing a bat and pitched ball in mid-swing.

Chances are, Sports Illustrated will not be calling any time soon. But I had a good time, learned a few things, and with any luck, I might actually sell a print or two. You can check out a few of the images here. I'll upload more as I get them processed.

A Grim, Inspiring Preoccupation

It seems quite strange that themes and issues seem to repeat themselves in my life. Coincidence or not, I often find myself drawn to a topic that fascinates me. That happened over the last few weeks with Judaism, Nazi-Anti-Semitism, and the Holocaust. Certainly not a subject for light reading, I found myself fascinated by several aspects of events in Poland and Germany during World War II and a few cinematic efforts to capture these dark moments from history.

It started with The Reader. I was traveling out of town to a conference and wanted a “book on CD” to help me pass the trip while driving alone. While perusing the offerings on iTunes, I ran across Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader. I knew that Kate Winslet had recently won an Oscar for best actress in the 2008 film adaptation, but otherwise knew nothing else. Something compelled me to purchase and download the book.

Wrapped around a captivating and uncomfortably erotic story of a fifteen-year-old boy and his mysterious older lover, The Reader examines how the generations of Germans after the Third Reich have attempted to come to terms with Nazi crimes. At one point, the narrator and protagonist Michael, later in life after the end of the affair, meets a former Nazi officer while hitchhiking to a concentration camp site. Of the Jewish murders, he says, “An executioner is not under orders. He's doing his work, he doesn't hate the people he executes, he's not taking revenge on them, he's not killing them because they're in his way or threatening or attacking them. They're a matter of such indifference to him that he can kill them as easily as not.”

Last week, while traveling to Minnesota, I picked up a copy of Defiance. Written in 1993 by Nechama Tec, it is the story of a group of armed Jewish partisans, led by Tuvia Bielski, who escape the Polish ghettos to hide in the forest, resisting the German occupiers while attempting to save other Jews from certain death at the hands of the Nazis. Not tempted by revenge, Bielski instead does whatever it takes to save as many Jews as possible. While other partisan groups, particularly the Russians, shun women, children, and the elderly, Tuvia’s group takes in any Jew seeking refuge. When the group is liberated by the Soviet Red Army in 1945, 1,200 Jewish partisans follow Beilski out of the forest. Although I shunned it in the theatre, I can’t wait to see the film now.

Strangely, while sitting in the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport reading Defiance, I heard on CNN that a lone gunman, James von Brunn, had entered the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. and killed a guard with a .22 caliber rifle. An apparent white supremicist, Mr. von Brunn was 88. In his car, illegally parked on the curb, was a note that included the comment, “The Holocaust is a lie.”

So what were the odds that Schindler’s List would air on HBO in the last week? Oddly, I had never seen this award-winning movie. But even at over three hours in length, I had to watch it. Probably like everyone, I was struck by the sheer disregard of the Jews as human beings by the Germans. And I was also struck by the similarities of Schindler and Beikski in their attitude of saving one more Jew. The ring made by the Schindlerjuden factory workers for Oskar bore the Talmudic quote, “Whoever saves one life saves the world entire.”

It’s so easy to look back at the Jewish Holocaust and the horrific cruelties of the Final Solution and see these events as unique and isolated incidents from a distant past. But as a good friend and retired military officer reminded me recently, atrocities continue around the world. Since 2003, over 400,000 have died in the genocide in Sudan. Saddam Hussein executed countless thousands of Kurds in Iraq. Muslims are killing each other over differences seemingly less significant that Baptist versus Methodist theology.

The potential for humans to commit horrific acts continues. If for no other reason beyond Kate Winslet's wardrobe for much of the first third of the movie, The Reader is captivating because it examines the feelings of Germans after WWII. How could so many German citizens not know what was happening in Poland. Is there something in all of us that makes us susceptable to climbing on such a horrific bandwagon draped in patriotism. Having had an opportunity to visit the Holocaust Museum in Washington, I think a visit there should be mandatory for every U.S. citizen. The larger than life efforts of Bielski and Schindler saved over 2,000 Polish Jews. But over 3,500,000 perished, brutally murdered by the Nazis. Can knowledge, understanding, and courage find defiance in each of us?

Rainmaker

I may have a career in the future as a Rainmaker. I’ve discovered that I have a real talent for creating bad weather. In the last two years, I have been able to visit a few dream locations for me as a photographer. In virtually every instance, rain, clouds, bad weather, and closure for renovations seemed to arrive on the same flight.

In May of 2008, I had the chance to visit Portland, Oregon for a conference. Naturally, I wanted to see Mt. Hood and Cannon Beach. I researched the best locations to photograph these areas from, printed out maps, and packed the right gear for the types of shots I wanted to take. What I didn’t consider was the weather. It was raining and overcast on the only morning I had to go to Mt. Hood. Concerned, but determined, I pressed on. As I neared Mt. Hood, it was completely obscured in dense clouds and rain. And when I reached the dirt road leading to the lake where I wanted to shoot the reflection of the mountain, an iron gate and closed sign blocked my way. On the other side, the roadway was filled with ten feet of snow. Two days later, I visited Cannon Beach. Naturally, it was blanketed in fog.

Right now, I’m in Duluth, Minnesota. It’s an amazing town dominated by Lake Superior, an amazing body of water, and the shipping industry it brings. We’re only a hundred or so miles from Canada. And for someone born and raised in the South, it might as well be Mars. Most of last week, the high temperatures in Georgia were in the upper eighties. Since getting to Minnesota, the highest temperature has been about 53 degrees. Pretty cold, eh?

Sunday, I drove up the coast toward Canada. My goal was Split Rock Lighthouse, a magnificent and historic viewpoint perched on a cliff high above Lake Superior. I arrived to see overcast skies, very flat lighting, and scaffolding. Not only were conditions lousy for great photos, but the lighthouse was wrapped top to bottom in scaffolding as the exterior was being restored. I did what any photographer would do. I tried to be creative and shoot around the challenges—and cursed my bad luck.

On Monday, the weather worsened. In fact, the temperature never climbed above 45 degrees and the 30 knot winds drove the continuous rain and the eight foot waves in amazing fashion. Again, undeterred, I lugged the Nikon out into the elements and tried to capture the beauty of the lake and the passing ships along with the fury of the weather. At first glance, it looks like I got a few really interesting, noisy shots of fog, windblown waves, wet breakwaters, and blurry lighthouses through the mist and fogged lens.

It’s Tuesday now, and the weather has cleared some. The sun popped out a couple of times this morning and Lake Superior is relatively flat. I’ve got one final day here to hopefully capture a great sunset. I might even work in some long exposures tonight if weather permits.I don’t know when the next trip will be to another great photography location. Perhaps, instead of waiting for something to come along, I should research where the worst droughts are occurring. I can bring rain. And I have the photos to prove it.