The Border

If you ever want to see an amazing place, let me recommend the border. I spent the day outside the wire, checking out what Lieutenant Colonial Smith, a New Hampshire soldier, does for work. This is his second deployment to Combat Outpost Shocker (that’s right, Shocker — and yes, that’s where it comes from…) We went to a port of entry, which he had jurisdiction over last deployment, and a border outpost, which he has jurisdiction over now. I shared chai tea with the outpost commander and got to stand six feet outside of Iran. It was a stunning experience, talking with truck drivers and border guards, watching the pilgrims come from Iran. The sound was fantastic as well; I can’t wait to put this one together.

Here are some photos from the day. The audio should be along soon as well. Enjoy!

More Pictures and a Taste of Audio

It’s been hard to get any good shots from the back of the Rhino, and I spent most of yesterday editing audio, but I got a few things here. These are from FOB Shocker, where I am now. Not real exciting, but at least you can see what it’s like here.

Also, I was collecting sound for a piece I’m working on about convoys, and I happened to get this story. I thought it went along with my earlier post (WARNING: Explicit Language).

Leader

It’s amazing the things soldiers see.

Step Two: Ballistics

I spent almost $3,000 today.

Not really, but sort of. I picked up a few items for reporting, and I rented my bulletproof vest. All together it was about $2,600, but a big chunk of that was the security deposit that will hopefully be returned when I get back. And the equipment, while important for this trip, will be part of my tech repertoire for years to come.

I also got some good news today — the New Hampshire Union Leader wants to carry my stories. Now, in addition to the work for NHPR and the Conway Daily Sun, I’ve got a third media outlet on board.

That means I’ll almost make back my investment in this trip. Maybe I’ll even make a few dollars? Doubtful.

I’ve been jokingly telling people “it’s cheaper than grad school” whenever they ask why I’m going to Iraq. The truth is I’m both nervous and excited, and I know the experience will be worth the expense. And as I get closer I feel more and more like I’ve made the right decision. I want to make sure soldiers, whether they are from the Mount Washington Valley, the North Country, New Hampshire or elsewhere, are not forgotten. Iraq is in transition that the administration isn’t calling war, but those soldiers are serving nonetheless. They deserve recognition, and the public needs reminders every once in a while.

I’ll be posting a lot on my way there, I imagine — LPJ will serve as my war logs. When my equipment comes in I’ll make sure to toss up some photos, and I also plan to chronicle as things happen.

I’m all set, I think, other than I still need my visa, but otherwise I should be good to go. Vest, helmet and goggles are all in the mail, and I’ve got a shotgun (microphone) coming too. It’s now past midnight, so I have a week left. I’ll have to try not to hold my breath.

A Bit More…

A quick addendum to that last post: it was this image that got me thinking more about photography lately and really jazzed up about its storytelling power. Look at it for a moment. Click on it, and read the full caption. It comes from a photo essay titled Jim Comes Home, shot by Todd Heisler when he worked for The Rocky Mountain News.

(The Rocky Mountain News shut down in early 2009, when the newspaper industry seemed to be imploding alongside the banking sector. The industry has since revived a bit, but the News was never resurrected.)

This is just one in a series of photographs Heisler shot that took my breath away. Even now, as I write this post, I have to avoid processing the image to keep writing. It makes me cry. That’s what a photograph is supposed to do.

Heisler took second place in the Pictures of the Year International competition in 2006. It’s no wonder why. I look at these photos and I think about the profession I’ve chosen, the task I’ve been entrusted with, every time I try to tell someone’s story. That’s what he did so eloquently, and it shaped people’s views on events a world away. That’s what reporters, photographers, the media are entrusted to do. When they do it well, like Heisler did, it gives all the rest of us something to aspire to.

U-Turns

I heard an illustrative measurement about what it takes to be a great photographer today. U-turns. How many U-turns someones makes will tell you how great a photographer they are. If you’ve ever seen a great shot as you’ve driven past, you’ll understand.

I’ve got a shot I’ve always wanted to take. I’ve seen it twice now, once today, with a camera in the car but not stopped. The first time I saw it was earlier this fall, on the side of Interstate 93. There was a dead moose laying on the side of the road. It was early, and late fall, so the light was pale blue, not warm. After I shot passed on my way south I realized the photo I wanted: from on the ground, laying next to the moose, with his (or her, I didn’t notice) body filling most the frame, but with cars zooming past in the background.

Yesterday, on my way to a meeting, on U.S. Route 3, I saw another moose. I had my Lumix next to me on the seat, but I was running late and in professional clothes that would have shown I had been laying in the dirt. This time I knew what I wanted, and I thought of it first, but again I didn’t stop to make it happen.

I didn’t make the U-turn. Shots don’t wait around for photographers to get them. They disappear. The moose gets cleaned up, the ball flies through the net, the soldier’s body hits the ground. And it is up to the photographer to be there, and to be ready.

The classic phrase is the decisive moment. Ever try to capture that? Ever try to be in the right place at the right time, just when the action happens? I’m not talking about landscapes, which are challenging enough by themselves. I mean action, when people are there and doing something. Those moments are hell to capture, but that’s what a great photographer does.

I’m not a great photographer, but I love the medium. I can produce good shots when I need to, but the real professionals blow me a way.

But that idea — U-turn, turn around, make the shot the priority — that has power. It is enough to turn a mediocre photographer into a good photographer, and maybe a good one into an excellent one. I’m not sure, but it’s something I’m going to try to carry with me as I embark on 14 days of exploration, where my camera should never leave my hand (except when I’ve got a microphone in it).

The photo up top, by the way, I did turn around for, and I can prove it: that’s my wife and her sister walking away on the left side of the frame. It’s not a great photo, but it illustrates my point. A few more U-turns are in order.