We photographers -- particularly those of us whose path is photojournalism -- tend to be here today, someplace else tomorrow. For 30 years, the editors at the various newspapers where I worked sent me off to this place and that to cover politics, sports, social events, and all the other mind-numbingly weird and amazing ways we human beings spend our time on this planet.
The only constant in my workdays as a newspaper photojournalist was that my days were rarely routine. It was my job to enter the worlds of liberals and conservatives, rich and poor, the successful and the hapless. I remember one Christmas season when, in one day, I had an assignment to photograph a well-to-do, retired gentleman who traveled the world in search of crystal Christmas ornaments for his immaculate holiday tree; an hour later I was taking pictures for a story about folks who were destitute and living in a shelter for the homeless.
In my present-day photographic life I still seem to have the heart and soul of a visual documentarian. Last week, after an earthquake rocked Tibet and killed an estimated two thousand people and injured many thousands more, my friends from the Seattle-area Tibetan community held two candle-lighting and prayer services. Leah and I were there with our friends on one occasion to lend support and comfort; at the second event I made photographs that I gave my friends for their community web site.
Earlier in my career, I took my cameras where editors assigned me to go.
Now I follow my heart.
