The Family Story

This time of year we all try to spend more time with our families and loved ones. It’s also a time when we reflect on the people who are no longer with us. For the most part we rely on our memories and some scattered photographs or home movies.

Mooney family dressed up for Easter. I'm the child smiling.

Some of the fondest memories I have of my mother, father and grandparents are of us sitting around the dinner table, long after the meal was over and listening to the family stories. Of course each person would tell the same story in an entirely different way – the way they remembered it.

Every family has stories – mine certainly does and I have started to collect information, photographs and even recordings of family members while they are still around to tell them. It’s such an easy thing to do with all the tools that technology has provided in the way of cameras and audio recorders.

I often think that as photographers and filmmakers we are not only the keepers of our own family stories but we are documenting the stories for other families through our images, recordings and videos. Here’s a recording of my Uncle Dorlen talking about fishing in Northern Michigan in the winter.

Family gathering at my Uncle "Frenchy's" memorial.

Essentially, we are creating an archive of our loved ones and the memories. And that is the most precious gift that I can give someone through the talents of my craft.

I was recently looking at someone’s vacation snapshots and it occurred to me just how precious those images are, certainly for the people in them and the people they know. I have always taken the family snapshots and have recently started video recording my relatives telling their stories through their own voices, preserving them for future generations.

So think about that – even if you just take out your iPhone or Flip this holiday season, start capturing life’s moments. You’ll be glad you did.

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Reconnecting with The Ancient Ones

What started out as a mileage run to the West Coast on Friday, turned out to be a day of interesting connections.  My plan was to fly out to San Francisco on Friday morning and return the next morning.  I needed one more flight – the cost of a cheap ticket – to reach the next level of my airline elite status. I have a pretty full travel schedule next year and the upgrade in status will be beneficial.

Since I had the time, I decided reconnect with an old college friend whom I hadn’t seen in over 25 years.  He picked me up at the airport and from the moment I got into the car until we parted company later that afternoon, it was like we hadn’t missed a beat.  Both older, yet fundamentally the same people we were back in college.  There was a comfortable feeling being with each other even though so many years had gone by.

Later that evening I had drinks with a colleague whom I had met a few years back at SATW’s (Society of American Travel Writers) conference in England. During the evening I mentioned a personal project I was embarking on “People Making a Difference” and queried him about story ideas and people he may know. That conversation led us to talking about the travels we’ve each had over the years.  We quickly discovered that we had made similar backpacking odysseys back in the early 70’s. We began to retrace the paths we had each taken – I spoke of traveling from Cairo to Beirut, then on to Damascus and through Iraq to Kuwait. He followed with a nearly identical itinerary and picked up the journey from Kuwait by boat to Abadon, Iran and overland to Afghanistan.  We soon realized that we had been to the same places during the same period of time.

We both commented on the fact that we never come across people in our lives that have had that kind of parallel experience.  He then told me a funny story. He had traveled back to India with his grown son when a young traveler came up to him asking for money so he could get something to eat.  My friend told the traveler about his own journeys when he was his age. The young traveler responded by saying “Whoa – you’re one of the Ancient Ones”.  My friend relayed this story to me and pointed out that traveler’s comment had been spoken in a manner of respect, the same manner of respect with which native indigenous peoples refer to their elders or “ancient ones”.

It was an unusual day where I set out to take a trip for the sake of miles and ended up reconnecting with my past on a couple of different levels.  I tend to look forward in my life rather than at the past but sometimes reconnecting with your past connects circles and reminds of us who we really are. I kind of like being an Ancient One.

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If the Idea Just Won’t Quit Ya – Take Notice

If anyone’s been paying attention to my last few posts you would have noticed that I’ve been very introspective of late.  That’s usually what happens to me when I’m about to make a change or embark on a personal project. '60's psychedelic VW vanI have found that when unexpected and random events happen in my life and I take notice and then question why – I’m ready for my next chapter.

I have a friend who is a freelance writer and lives nearby. We frequently take long walks through the miles of preserved natural open land that lie within our community.  We are both creatives and we’ve discovered that it’s a wonderful environment for conversation and bouncing ideas off of one another.  On a recent walk I was talking about an idea that just won’t leave my head and another thought that’s just starting to morph into a more concrete plan.

At one point she questioned that perhaps I should segway the ideas into assignments from magazines or online publishers – like that would somehow legitimize my effort.  I told her that if I have an idea that I feel so strongly about that I’m ready to proceed on my own  – then I didn’t feel the need to get validation from someone else. That my passion for the subject matter usually carried me through and was all the validation I needed.

I’ve worked on a quite few personal projects over the years, both still photography and video as well as combinations of both.  There hasn’t been one project that hasn’t been rewarding on many levels. Of course there’s the personal satisfaction and growth that I initially receive.  And there’s the incredible feeling I get from knowing my work has touched someone or had an impact on them.  And there are always the residual rewards that lead to new connections and future projects or jobs.

Someone once told me “pay attention to those thoughts in your head that just won’t quit ya”. So I think I will.

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The Power to Move and Influence

How often are we really moved in our lives by something we see or hear?  Whether it be a printed photograph, a film, a song or a book, I’m sure there are times we all recall seeing or hearing something that has really moved us.  Sometimes we’ve been moved to take action on something that’s been stirring inside us because those lyrics or visuals just won’t leave our heads.

These days we are so bombarded by “content” from every direction we turn that it’s hard to let anything sink in.  The message gets lost amongst the clutter of mediocrity. We get blinded by all the packaging and fizz and just don’t see or hear what people are trying to say – if they are saying anything at all. The human connections don’t seem to be made.

Last night I went to see Jackson Browne in concert.  I knew it would be an intimate experience because it was just Jackson playing an acoustic set  – no band  – just Jackson and the audience.  As I took my seat in the theater I saw the simple set on stage – one chair – one small table with a cup of tea on it – one amplifier, a keyboard and his guitars.  Granted there were 16 guitars for Jackson to choose from throughout the night – but ultimately it was about as simple and as basic as it gets.

I have been following Jackson Browne since his early days when I was living in California. I grew up with his music and lyrics over the years as it changed with the times and his own life’s experiences. I fell in love with his music and to his music.  I’ve been amazed and inspired by his incredible gift to connect with people on a very intimate and personal level.

As I looked around at the faces in the theater last night as he played in such a pure and simple way, I could see that I wasn’t the only one that had been taken to another place.  The women in the audience were in love with him and the men were in awe. We were with him the entire evening listening to every word and note.

As his music lingers in my head today, I can’t help but think about all the stories that are in my head that are dying to get out. I remind myself to pay attention to those stirrings because in my heart I know that those are the very thoughts that I need to listen to. The one thing that I’ve learned over the years is that the ideas that are closest to my heart are the very ones I need to act on because ultimately they will rise above the clutter and resonate with others.

Thanks Jackson for your inspiration.

“You’re Only 25 And You’re Already Making Compromises?”

There’s a story that I love to tell because it explains why I followed the path I did – in my career and my life.

It was 1976 and I had just graduated from Brooks Institute in Santa Barbara, California.  I had my technically perfect portfolio and I was ready to set the world on fire.  British schoolboy, Bath, EnglandMy plan was to move back East, and pursue my dream of becoming a photojournalist.  That was where my heart was – “telling the story” through my images and I wanted to share those images through the pages of magazines. But even back then photo essays and the magazines that printed them were threatened by a bad economy and changing times. Look had just folded and Life was seeing its demise – the first time around.

Back then everyone told me that to make a living in photography you needed to get a studio and shoot commercially.  I bought into that, geared my first portfolio toward that and got a job assisting a commercial still life photographer.  But it didn’t feel right -it  wasn’t the right fit for me.  I had wanted to become a photographer to capture people and their cultures and what was going on in the world – not to shoot static objects in a New York City studio.

I had admired Jay Maisel’s work at the time, his eye for the detail and the streets of New York.  I decided to give him a call and ask if he had time to look at my portfolio and maybe give me a critique or some advice.  He agreed so we set up a time at his studio down in the Bowery. The late ’70’s was not a great time for NYC – economically speaking it was broke and Mayor Beame had just been turned down by the Feds for a bailout.  Just taking the trek down to that part of Manhattan at that time,  was an adventure in itself. Jay was a true pioneer in buying that old bank building back then. I’ll never forget the contrast between the graffiti covered exterior and amazing space inside.

Jay looked at every perfectly mounted print of technically perfect photographs and tossed them aside.  He looked at me and asked me if this was what I really wanted to do.  I started to go into a lengthy explanation of how I really wanted to be a photojournalist and proceeded to tell him all the reasons that I had given myself when I talked myself out of pursuing that dream.  And then I took out some snapshots of things I had shot on my travels before I even went to Brooks.  He looked at the images and told me that he could tell that this was what I should be doing.  And then he asked me how old I was.  I replied that I was 25.  He looked me straight in the eye and said “You’re 25 years old and you’re already making compromises?”.

It was a turning point in my life.  Every time I’m tempted to go off course, I remind myself of Jay’s words and I get back on track.

Life on the Road and My Favorite Place

When I was a little girl my mom used to take my sister and I to Walgreens to get an ice cream sundae.  Back then, like other drug stores and five and dimes, you could get a bite to eat at the counter.  I had a game that I’d play every time we’d go.  I’d sit on the stool and spin myself around. I would assign exotic destinations to various landing spots that the stool would stop spinning – and determine that those were the places that I would travel to in my life.  I somehow knew back then that “the road” would become a huge part of my life.

Over the years people have asked me “Where is your favorite place that you’ve ever been?”. To be honest, I hated that question because I never had an answer.  There were too many places, all different in their own way that attracted me to them.Iom peel boat And then about 10 years ago I had an assignment for Islands Magazine to cover the Isle of Man.

The island pulled me in from the start. I felt a strange sense of belonging, a connection that I couldn’t explain.  The air was cool and pure with a constant wind that blew across the island from one sea to the other.  It’s a small island located in the Irish Sea somewhere between Ireland and Scotland.  An island that’s reminiscent of Ireland 50 years ago –port erin an island where time seems to have stopped.

Because the island is small, I didn’t feel the usual rapid pace that I have felt on previous assignments where I was given too much to cover and too little time.  I could linger and catch the moods of the island and the vibe of the people.  It was a magical place with open, cinematic vistas of aiom scenic patchwork of every shade of green you can imagine, stretching from the barren upland’s to the blue of the sea.  The sea was always present.

There were secret glens with waterfallwaterfalls and I thought that fairies must surely live there, somewhere beneath the ferns.  The island was enchanting on every level.  One day I came upon a crowd of people in a field.  I asked someone what was going on and they replied that it was a turnip weeding contest.  How wonderful I thought, a contest to weed a field.  I spent the morning caught up in the event, taking a few images, but mostly just talking with peoplemen iom and storing those conversations in my head.

And then like every other time I’ve taken to the road – my journey came to an end and it was time for me to leave.  There’s a legend on the island that every time the Queen of England comes to the Isle of Man (the island is an independent nation), the great god Mananan covers the island in a mist, so that she won’t find her way there and take the isle back.  The night before I left, a dense fog enveloped the isle and I thought the gods didn’t want me to leave – and I didn’t want to leave.  But the fog lifted and it was my time to go, but I knew that I finally had an answer to the question “Where is your favorite place you’ve been?”

Robert Frank, “The Americans” and The Road

I went to see Robert Frank’s “The Americans” this past week at the Met in New York City. I have always been a fan of Frank, not so much for his fashion photography but his photographic observations of “us”robertfrank_10.T – us Americans, our culture at that time in our history.  He was an observer of “all” people not just the beautiful ones captured on the pages of Harper’s Bazaar, and he captured those observations for generations to come.

As I took my time looking at the prints and contact sheets displayed, I was able to get a glimpse of how he shot – what his camera lingered on and where he went from there.  I could see his thought process in how he made his selections, looking at the frames circled with his red grease pencil. I read his letters to his colleague Walker Evans, another favorite of mine and I got a much better sense of him as a person and photographer.  I watched an early video that he filmed and was amazed by how he pushed his own photographic boundaries into another medium.  The exhibition provided a wealth of insight and information on Frank, his project “The Americans” and a time in our country’s history – and I was captivated.

His images linger in my head and remind me of my beginnings in photography and “why” I became a photographer.  Like Frank, I’m an observer of all people, of cultures and use my camera as a means to capture my observations and share them with others.  My passion is rooted in my own personal road trips; I have taken over the years with my camera. It has triggered in me the desire to explore, to embark on another journey with my camera and see where it takes me.

I’ve spent a career and a lifetime “on the road”, always the traveler, observing and capturing the daily lives of others – not the famous, but the common man.  Not the horrific, the outrageous, the exotic for those reasons  – but because they’re part of the world I live in.  My hope is that I the images I leave behind, will provide others a glimpse of that time, that space, those lives that I stumbled upon during a lifetime spent on the road.

Finding Your Passion

How does one find their passion?  How does one even define the word – passion?  The dictionary gives a few definitions. I’ll cite two:
– “intense or overpowering emotion such as love, joy, hatred, or anger.”
– “the object of somebody’s intense interest or enthusiasm”

Passion isn’t something you can teach someone – you just have to have it inside of yourself.  If you’re passionate about something – you just know.  I’m a photographer and a filmmaker .  But my passion is “telling the story” and I use my craft as a means to that end.  I’m interested in the human story and the cultural context that gives birth to those stories.

My insatiable desire to seek out and explore the human story has led me down many wonderful paths in my life. One of those paths led me to shoot a personal multimedia project on The Delta Blues Musicians.  My goal was to shoot environmental still portraits– as well as shoot video interviews of them .  I met my goal – at least in terms of creating an exhibition of still images and a short documentary – but I’ve never thought of this project as really being finished.  And that’s because I’m so passionate about the subject – “the blues”.

This past Friday, I headed down to Mississippi for Pinetop Perkins homecoming.  PinetopPinetop Perkins is a legendary boogie woogie piano player in the blues world.  He’s 96 years old and still going strong.  He is living proof of a man who is “living his passion.  I’ve become friends with Pinetop’s manager over the years and yesterday we got together over lunch to catch up on what was going on in our lives. I hadn’t been to the Delta for a few years and she was giving me the latest news on some of the musicians that I had interviewed for my film.  Four have since died – Little Milton, Robert Lockwood Jr., Ike Turner and most recently Sam Carr.

Pinetop’s manager is a very interesting woman who used to be an Anthropology professor at University of California at Berkeley.  She taught interview techniques as part of her ethnology classes.  When I had originally called her up to request an interview with Pinetop – she turned me down.  But not being one to take my first no – I asked her to check out my website and I also sent her a portrait I had taken of Sam Carr.  When she saw the photo I had taken of Sam – she changed her mind – she gave me my time with Pinetop.  She said that after she saw the portrait I took of Sam – she knew that  I understood “cultural context”

Yesterday at lunch she paid me another high compliment.  She told me that while she couldn’t quite dissect my “interview technique” (and she kind of rolled her eyes as she said it – because at times my techniques are quite comical) – she said that people just seem to be comfortable with me and  because of that they wanted to talk.  She also told me that I’ve been the only one to get a smile out of Robert Lockwood Jr. in an interview – but that’s another story.  Those comments were rewards in themselves for the efforts I’ve made on this project over the years – but there have been so many more.  Many rewards – all because of my passion for “the blues”.

Later that evening I got a chance to see Pinetop perform again.  I was backstage at the main festival stage – it was unusually chilly and I had a blanket with me.  Pinetop was sitting in the wings and I gave him my blanket as he waited for his cue.  He seemed so small and fragile.  When he got up to walk on stage and take his place at his keyboard before the crowd – he came alive.  And when he played his first note – I caught “it” in his eyes – a passion for his music and more than that – a passion to play for “his people”.  He didn’t want to leave last night – he played another song for “his people” and raised his arms in joy as the crowd embraced him.  It was a moment I’ll never forget.

Convergence – Defining Yourself By Your Vision – Not Your Tool

It’s 4AM as I write this entry.  I can’t sleep.  That often happens when my mind is in overdrive as it has been all week – over stimulated by the process of editing video. I’ve also spent a lot of time this past week speaking with quite a few photographers who are working in both the still photography and video mediums.  Some shooters I spoke with got into video because the entry level became cheaper when hybrid cameras that shoot both stills and video came on the market.  Other people I talked to weren’t “camera operators” at all – they were DP’s or Directors of Photography on high-end commercial broadcast productions.

One question I asked these shooters was “What do you call yourself these days?” Personally I’m struggling with that question myself.  Am I a  photographer?, a videographer? (I hate that term), a DP?, a media producer?  Who am I ?  What do I call myself? I have yet to answer that question for myself, but the answers that I got from everyone I spoke with, ran the gamut, encompassing all the titles above.  As I replayed these conversations in my head, I realized that for me the problem was I was trying to define myself by my tool.  And that just doesn’t work.

The problem is if we define ours by our tools – then we are diminishing the value of our creativity or our visionboy_viewer in the process.  We aren’t placing the value on what is unique in all of us – our vision. At the same time we’re placing too much value on the tool – in this case the camera.  As technology accelerates the production of more sophisticated cameras that are cheaper and easier to use – and we’ve placed our value on being the technician – we’re in big trouble.  Because ultimately anyone with a vision who has the “ability” to realize that vision, can put together a crew of technicians to facilitate their vision or idea – and do it cheaper these days because of technology.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Professional photographers get defensive when a potential client places no value on what is unique about them (their vision) and approaches them with the attitude that if you won’t work for the prices they dictate – they will just find another photographer.  But what they are really saying is that they feel that they can “just” find another camera operator. The problem is that these photographers haven’t presented their vision and because of that they are perceived as being interchangeable. That’s not a good place to be and never will be.  And for that reason when a professional still photographer comes to me and says that they are interested in getting into video and asks the question “What video camera should I buy?” I gently tell them – well sometimes not so gently tell them – it’s not about the camera.

How does one define what they are?  Great question that has a lot of answers, as it should.  Technology is amazing – but it’s the human part of the process that excites me because we’re all so different in how we see.

Sam Carr (1926-2009) Legendary Blues Drummer

I received some bad news today that Sam Carr died.  Sam was a legendary blues drummer – he was also one of the sweetest people that I came to know.  I interviewed and photographed Sam in 2001 at his home in Lula, Mississippi – the heart of the Mississippi Delta.

I was working on my first really ambitious documentary after getting into video the year before.  It was a personal Sam Carr, Lula, MSproject that had I tried to get funding for but then 9/11 happened and money dried up over night.  But for me this was a story that I needed to tell and now because these musicians were in their 70’s and 80’s.  I wanted to tell the story of these musicians apart from their music.  I was interested in their cultural stories – about the area they grew up in. the Delta and how that gave birth to their music – the blues.

My first trip to Mississippi was on a shoestring budget with my heart in the right place and open to whatever I may find.  My husband, my 14 year old daughter and I hit to road for the Mississippi Delta the summer of 2001. To be honest I didn’t have much in the way of a planned itinerary.  I had tried to line up interviews with some of the musicians but the cultural divide between us made it difficult to pin down a schedule.  So I was open to letting serendipity happen and it did.

I had spoken with Sam Carr and his wife Doris who had been with Sam since she was 13 years old until she passed away last year.  Sam was very cordial and kind and was quite willing to be interviewed.  I had pinned him down with a date in a vague sort of way and we all – my husband, my daughter and I – showed up at the proper time.  It was a typical August day in the South – hot and humid.  So we sat on a bunch of mismatched chairs underneath a big old shade tree.  Sam literally talked for hours and I was drawn into his stories about his childhood, his father, Robert Nighthawk a legendary guitarist who didn’t raise Sam, his music, his regrets and his life now during his older years. At times it was difficult to understand him because of his dialect but I listened carefully and his words made permanent marks on my soul.  We talked until evening and it will be an afternoon that I will never forget.

Sam’s words became a big part of my film.  That first interview also convinced me that these stories needed to be told – and by the musicians themselves.  I went on to photograph and interview – Little Milton and Robert Lockwood Jr. – who have also left this earth since my interviews.  We still have Pinetop Perkins – 96 years old, Big Jack Johnson, who played with Sam in the band Jelly Roll Kings, Willie “Big Eyes” Smith and Magic Slim. The outcome of my efforts was  a 26 minute film and a still photographic essay about The Delta Blues Musicians that has become a traveling multimedia exhibition.  View the trailor.

I heard this sad news from Pinetop’s manager who I’ve become friends with over the years.  She told me that Sam died quietly with his family and friends around.  She also told me that his family was grateful that I had captured Sam and his stories that day.  And she told me that his epitaph may be “I lived a rich man’s life in a poor man’s shoes” – the last thing that Sam told me that glorious August day.