It's Just Hair

So on Friday the Virginia Tech baseball team held a "Shave for the Brave" event, where team members had their heads shaved in solidarity with pediatric cancer victims ... and ideally to raise money for the St. Baldrick's Foundation.

When Tara Wheeler, one of the anchors on the Fox 21/27 Morning News where I work, got the call to take part, I hear them ask her on the phone: "We know you shaved your head a few years ago for St. Baldrick's, so we won't ask you to do it, but maybe you could challenge someone on your show."  I'm standing there right in front of her, and her eyes raise up as she says, "Hey, Bruce, you wanna' get your head shaved?"

"Uh, sure."

Jennifer, my wife, posted an after picture of me on Facebook, and the "Likes" and supportive comments rolled in -- things like "very brave move" and "way to go."  That was pleasant and rewarding, but after a while I began to think: It's not like I really did anything.  I mean, it does open the conversation about contributing towards finding a cure for pediatric cancer, but that requires no particular sacrifice from me, and I'm very happy to say I have no particular experience the cause.  It's not like I'm actually working on a cure, or suffering in some way.  In the end, I just cut my hair.

So join with the baseball players at Virginia Tech (for whom losing their hair was I bet more jarring that it is for me) and give.  I'll take your admiration and comments on other stuff.

Meanwhile, in America...

I hope, before 2011 is out, to have a couple of new projects on public display. I have been purposely laying traps for myself, so that I can't escape working on them.

One is Camera Aperta, the book project on the history of photojournalism that I really, really want to get serious about doing. Another is an attempt to document the folk and traditional music scene here in Rockbridge County. To that end, I've been telling others -- mainly those connected to the music scene -- about my ideas. It not only serves to get me more into the circle of knowledge and social scene associated with it, but forces me to get to work. Eventually, all these people are going to look at me and wonder when I'm going to get at it...

But, finally, I hope to start bringing "Meanwhile, in America..." into reality. This doesn't require much in terms of practical application -- just the continued effort to photograph life as I see it while out there -- but it does require me to get my act together in terms of learning web site design. I think this is a project that should be a web site, but one that brings the viewer a book-like experience, reminiscent of Frank's The Americans. This is in contrast to, say, the Rockbridge Music idea, which I think needs a web site that exploits all the aspects of the internet: sound, sight, video, text, look, etc., etc., etc.

And then there's the question of blogging the creation of these things and others, like the continuing efforts to edit the films on the VMI cadets who marched to New Market in May 2009 and Phil Welch's artwork...

Anyway, in the meantime, here's a couple more Meanwhile, in America ... pictures:

This is a search dog waiting for his turn ... after all the bloodhounds. They were doing weekend training in a park in downtown Roanoke, and we filmed a story on it. It nearly killed me. Running after dogs on a scent on a cold, windy, winter's day while carrying (and trying to get a decent shot with) a broadcast TV camera is a lot of work. I was wheezing like a bad accordion at the end of it.

Here we see Virginia Tech's football team during an indoor practice in anticipation of their forthcoming bowl game. Significantly more comfortable, especially as, at this moment, the sports reporter had taken hold of the camera, leaving me to shoot my own personal stills...

And here, the infamous Viking helmet. Bob Grebe was handed two of them while covering a "Viking Festival" in Roanoke years ago, and put them on his desk when he got back to the newsroom. One disappeared sometime in the last year, but this one remains as an odd sort of test. Bob waits, wondering how long it will remain there, on his desk, until it also disappears ... or he is told to get rid of it. If you watch News 7, you can often see it in the background.

As for the book, it is a recent arrival. We receive many books form the authors, hoping to arrange interviews, etc., as part of their promotion tours and so on. Makes for an interesting juxtaposition with the helmet, though...

The pictures were shot on a Leica M4-2 (a recent acquisition, and a story unto itself) with the now omnipresent (in my world) Kodak BW400CN film, using a 21mm Zeiss f2.8 lens.

Amusingly (perhaps to me only), I've put the Leitz 50mm f2.0 on the M4-2 lately, as people around the station have begun noticing me more as I make their picture. It's getting harder to sneak up on folks. However, I now understand why Cartier-Bresson preferred the 50mm, while (given the choice) I'd rather use the 21mm. You don't get the sweeping, dramatic lines and distortion the ultra-wide-angle lens provides, but you get a bit of distance that makes you a little less intrusive and noticeable.

Welcome to my world...

Haven't I seen you before?

Around the station, it's called "Fat Running Cop." What they are talking about is a piece of footage from the Virginia Tech shootings in 2007, made by Lynn Eller, a photographer at WDBJ. The station is the nearest CBS affiliate, and we regularly cover Tech and the town of Blacksburg, so when the newsroom heard of problems there, they sent Lynn to get some footage and see what was going on.

As he approached, Lynn remembered later when telling me about his experience, he was passed by State troopers driving at that high speed that only cops headed to an emergency can do. He called the station immediately, recommending they send everyone they had as well as the satellite truck.

On arrival, Lynn found a community in chaos. Cops were everywhere, and as one approached, Lynn thought, "This is it. He's throwing me out." Instead, the cop warned him to be careful. "We don't know where he is yet." Lynn spent the entire day taping the events around the shooting, much of it being the police reacting to the massacre. One of those police was an overweight cop, weapon in hand, rushing down the sidewalk. The "Fat Running Cop."

Poor guy. Lynn says now he almost regrets even shooting the footage. You see, you saw the Fat Running Cop everywhere that day, and in the weeks after. Frankly, I'm surprised that, when the anniversary passed last month, we didn't see him again.

I thought of the Fat Running Cop (geez, I'm sorry for calling you that over and over, but I don't know who you are) recently because of the United-Continental airlines merger. There's a leap, you might think, and you'd be right without seeing it from my perspective.

I edit the B-Roll -- that's the footage that they show while the anchor reads the story -- for the morning news show on Mondays. This past Monday, United and Continental announced they were going to merge. That, like most economics stories, doesn't really lend itself to visuals, so what I edited was pictures of planes and terminals. United-marked jets took off and Continental-marked jets landed, passengers waited at a United counter and luggage handlers sent bags up into a Continental airplane, and the anchor explained that it was a billion-dollar deal while we watched that. The one only marginally has anything to do with the other, but you use what you can get. This ain't radio.

Here's the sad part: That evening, after eight hours of continuously editing news footage, I watch the evening news. I am that much of a news junkie. And what appears on Fox (unrelated to WDBJ, as far as I know, in any way)? The exact same footage of United jets taking off and Continental jets landing and passenger sullenly moving through terminals.

Now this is understandable. The footage was probably some stock that had been given out by the airlines in good times, and laid around in various archives for just such an eventuality. But it was not just some part of a larger collection, it was precisely the same stuff.

And this brings me to my point: A CBS affiliate in Roanoke, Virginia, and an international cable news network are using, of all the thousands -- millions! -- of hours of footage of stuff related to United and Continental and airports, the same few seconds, probably because some guy at a network once said, "This'll probably come up; I'll save about a minute of it."

And then I thought of the hyper twenty-something that had been interviewed earlier about the attempted Times Square bombing, telling in breathless tones how everyone had rushed from the area. He was on all the networks too, probably because he was the effusive and cooperative one still on the scene when the cameras arrived. And this is a problem.

We spend a lot of time talking about journalism in crisis: Newspapers closing, one-man-band coverage (instead of a cameraman-reporter team), bureaus closing ... Bureaus closing. That's what this is a symptom of. Fewer and fewer journalists (and I'm enough of an elitist to differentiate -- there is such a thing as a real, professional journalist) covering more and more, often by not bothering to go to the place and ask real questions. Rather, too many stories are covered by getting footage or information sent in to some roughly nearby bureau (like London is nearby Afghanistan) and adding a voice track to the TV story, or just passing on whatever has been said, like a giant game of Telegraph with all the accompanying miscommunications.

One of the few times this didn't happen was after the Haiti earthquake, which was a story big enough to focus everyone's attention yet close enough to make covering it directly affordable. And yet, complaints were common that there were too many journalists (and especially photographers) there. Too Many? You'd rather get the whole tale of that monumental catastrophe from the Haitian version of the panicky twenty-something in Times Square? What's the Kreyol for: "And then we all ran, 'cause we didn't know what was going on?"

Noooo. This is a bad thing. It's something we need to think about. Because I'd like to be able to edit new and interesting pictures on Monday morning, or better yet, get sent to make those pictures.

Welcome to my world of concerns...

Newton, Irony and Me...

So my standing joke today has been about how I cheated death while covering Virginia Tech football yesterday.

I was sent to film (or rather, video, but I find that as a verb ... unpleasant) the final Tech scrimmage. It actually was the first time I'd been sent to cover the football team, and so my first problem on arrival was figuring out where to park, followed by where to go into the stadium and where to stand and shoot. I finally settled down by the sidelines, which has the advantage of providing more dramatic pictures, but the dual disadvantage of requiring one to hand hold the camera and be right next to the action ... which occasionally spills over onto the sidelines.

I give the sports anchor credit: He used the footage well, even to telling a little joke as it happens, but from my point of view at the time, it was one of those classic photographer's moments -- one in which the mind goes from "This looks pretty good" to "Hey, it's headed right my way, great" to "Oh, crap, I'm gonna' die" in a matter of seconds. You see, the quarterback took the ball and faded back to throw, but the rush was too strong and he broke out of the pocket and ... well, he ran right at me.

In that moment when I went from shooting to running for my life (a delicate instant, as the heavy TV camera makes you really top-heavy, and thus off balance from the start), I put out my left hand in a reflexive stiff-arm, to push him away. In retrospect, it was an absurd gesture, like the baseball trying to push the bat away. (Or perhaps a ping pong ball pushing a bat away, to make the proportions of speed and size more accurate, but I had better stop before my metaphors become too tangled.) I'm just glad no one else was filming out there, to get the comedic scene of me, too slow off the mark, rebounding off the armored giant as he plowed through.

Sore from the day's shooting (I am too old for football, I think; three hours of a camera on the shoulder is too long), I drove home to the girls' dance recital: some three hours of mostly small girls (and a few older ones) showing what they've learned through the years in a grand gala.

One can't be too critical of 3 or 7 year-olds, so it's not like I expected the Ballet Russes. Much of the performance of the school-age kids consisted of "What move is next," while the littlest ones engage in what I call "Choreography by committee." In those, the tots do their first move, then pause. There's a moment of consultation among the young dancers, and consensus is reached, and they move on to the next step or two. Often at this point, their teacher has built in a moment of free dance, which can involve just about anything from standing with a puzzled look to gleeful posing to running around in circles. Then there's the sudden recognition of a musical theme by the dancers, calling the committee once again to order. Consensus is again quickly reached, and the dance goes on like so...

As they age, as I said, the steps are more easily memorized, and order of a sort comes from chaos, even if it is an order of Step-two-three, Turn-turn, Pose-two-three. Rigid smiles (on the better performers) mask a fearful concentration to remember what comes next. The lesser performers have looks of fearful concentration. The main break in this comes when it is time for a leap. Then suddenly all fear sloughs away, and girls who went timidly from motion to motion suddenly charge out like eager fullbacks with the goal line in sight, flinging themselves into the air at center stage and careening to a halt just short of crashing into the wings.

I'll have to remember not to film that from the wings, for though the girls may carry less weight than Tech's quarterback, they surely have the speed and all the enthusiasm. I'm not sure who will fend off who there either.

Welcome to my world...