Sometimes I notice it. The fact that I am not doing it anymore. Shooting. Like I did before. I attended my fifteen year high school reunion last night and when catching up with people, I found it strange to tell them I was a photographer. I don't feel I can use the term "photojournalist" anymore. I am not shooting journalism. I set my own schedule. I am my own boss. That's nice. I make clients happy by capturing moments in their life and people in those lives. I teach. But not being able to say that I am a newspaper photojournalist made me feel less accomplished last night, even though I have many years of (successful) newspaper shooting behind me, as well as some recognitions for those photographs taken.
Today, I was watching a video on The Post's website. A story featuring a family in need. HERE. About half-way through, I heard it. That sound. The heavy, important clunk of a journalist's still camera. It is the same camera I use, but it is capturing something different than what I capture now. It's clunking in an effort to help someone in need. To help others learn the story of another. And I must confess, not having the heavier click coming from my camera somehow makes me feel less. I have the click but I miss the clunk.
1 comment:
Wow. Powerful, well-written post.
As you've adapted to your environment you've taken with you your qualities that make you such an excellent Photojournalist, who is currently documenting the essence of people's lives, for their personal joy and that of those with whom you share your photographs. You're keeping your skills sharp and building new ones, like self-marketing and knowing the monetary value of your work, and, shown through this blog, your writing.
Someday, I'll bet you'll find another re-mix to bring the journalism for the public/social good back to the fore!
In the meantime, I empathize about something missing. Ow.
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