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I started photographing the rock several years ago, usually
when my children were younger and more playful in parks. Then
there were the grandchildren. The photos were informal, really
nothing more than family photos.
However, this past winter, in the middle of a snowfall, on a
crisp afternoon, I began to study the rock in a new way. The
result is rockatinniswood.com.
I began a career as a photojournalist almost 35 years ago. I've
photographed kings, queens, presidents, the Pope, firefighters,
dead police officers, cancer survivors, prisoners, mothers of
children killed by madmen, drug arrests, drug deaths, fashion
shows, bikini contests, KKK rallies, anti-war protests, plane
crashes and crash survivors, stock car races, hot rod races,
Sebring, elementary, middle school, high school college and
professional sports, tornadoes, blizzards and hurricanes, Cuba,
POWs returning from Vietnam, Vietnam war protests and even been
told by a state trooper that I had to move because the piece
of plywood I was standing on covered body parts from an airplane
crash.
The experience took me to places that few will ever see, meet
people that both fascinated and angered me and let me see parts
of the human experience that would only be seen by most people
on the two-dimensional page of the newspapers and magazines
that printed my work.
All those assignments, all those years, all those days looking
through polished lenses, compressing day-long events into a
1/500th of a second to share moments only seen from that point
in space that I was given to occupy, takes a toll. The business
is competitive, "a deadline every minute" the catchphrase
requiring precision and deliberation.
Part of the pleasure of the work of a photojournalist is not
knowing what will happen next. Not an 8-to-5 job. No regular
hours. When there's a hurricane, tornado, flood, death and destruction,
and everyone wants to stay home, cocooned for safety, photographers
are chasing the story.
My son once greeted me in tears afraid that I had met some terrible
fate after I forced him, my family and all our relatives into
a North Dakota basement and then drove off to photograph the
tornado that he had seen just before the warning sirens began.
I've spent Christmas day photographing a house fire that killed
a family, Thanksgiving day standing at a chemical tank storage
explosion and fire, numerous anniversaries and birthdays away
from home and missed my son's first bicycle ride while working
at a national political convention.
Of course, there were the good times. A private dinner with
President Jimmy Carter, sitting next to Rosalynn, on his last
trip to Plains before leaving office. Standing at the top of
the Georgia Capitol dome held only by a rope around my waist
to photograph gilders replacing gold leaf. Watching alligators
hatch in the Florida Everglades. Uncounted children at play.
Babies being born. Open heart surgery saving a man's life. Flying
by helicopter to the HMS Ark Royal aircraft carrier. Watching
a nude man try to hitchhike.
I stood quietly early one morning photographing the removal
of a statue at the statehouse. The grounds were being renovated,
the statue being moved across the street. I struck up a conversation
with a politician, the chief of staff for the governor and some
say more powerful than the governor himself. He looked at me
with great admiration and respect and told me how much he wished
he could be doing what I was doing. When men of power admire
and covet our work, we've succeeded in communicating the passion
we bring to it.
The Rock at Inniswood is the continuing expression of a photographer's
passion and my escape from stress. With limitations.
I've restricted myself to a small section of the park, that
area within line-of-sight of the Rock at Inniswood. That forces
me to become a better observer, to watch for small wonders,
subtleties of change and viewpoint. The result is what you see
here. It's not photojournalism, at least not in the way most
people expect. Some of the photos have touches of photographic
reportage but most are just nice photographs taken at the Rock
at Inniswood.
Please enjoy them. |
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