My specialty is news and documentary-style photography. My photos tell stories. C I began my career as a staff photographer for the Middlesex (now MetroWest) Daily News in the Boston suburbs through the 1970’s. I’m now back in business as a photographer.
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Having gone untouched for countless years, rgetter.com (a.k.a. ric@large – I’m not even sure if I’m going to keep that name, what do you think?) is finally becoming active again. I was afraid my stories were going to be lost in the crowd on SubStack, so I figured this may be a better place for them.
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The house was small and cheap, and, like an idiot, he didn’t pay attention to much else about it. He found it, bought it, and moved in early that summer. There were thick willows lining his back fence, so he didn’t notice what was hidden behind them. The rest of the neighborhood seemed quiet, being a dead-end street without much traffic. He didn’t own all that much furniture, or anything else for that matter, so he was settled in quickly. He didn’t discover the problem until the Monday after Labor Day.
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Thought I’ve never considered myself a portrait photographer, I love photographing people. Fortunately, the times I’ve been asked to do something like a portrait, I’ve had the freedom to keep out of a studio and capture folks where they belong and feel like themselves.
Still, my favorite way to get people pictures is by lurking in the background and capturing candid images. Candid, according to the Oxford Dictionary means “truthful and straightforward; frank” and I try to stay true to that. It can take a long time to get to know someone, but that first impression you get from an initial glance can stay with you.
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Traveling has always been one of my favorite things to do and the same goes for the photography I do when I’m doing it. Everyplace has stories to tell. Sometimes they reveal something truly unique to a place and its culture. Sometimes it shows us how much we have in common as members of the human race.
With all due respect to filmmakers and videographers, I think photographers have a certain advantage here. Those tiny slices of time we capture can tell as much and sometimes more than a longer shot or scene. These brief images can be what we remember most about a place or event there. I love finding and capturing those little slices.
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In terms of approach and equipment, sports photography is its own ballgame (so to speak). For the major city dailies, sports has its own photo staff. For the papers I worked on, we had to do it all. Along with spot news (fire truck chasing), it became my favorite thing to do. Though I’ve done some pro sports, I find school sports to be a lot more exciting in a lot of ways. There is a certain kind of energy in the air that I just don’t feel at the pro events.
But like a lot of other photography, there are stories there to tell, moments of victory and heartbreak, as well as little dramas and sometimes comedies on the sidelines. Personally, I can’t get enough of it and I am so happy being back into it.
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When I was in college (about 1969), I needed to find a way to pay for film for my camera and chemicals for my darkroom. On a whim, I walked into the office of the local weekly paper a week after one of their regular photographers left and they let me try out. A year or so later, I was freelancing for the regional daily and wound up with a regular weekend and summer gig when I was in school and was hired full time after I graduated. Now I’m back, doing schoolboy sports (see my Sports Portfolio) and a few other things for a chain of local weeklies here in Oregon.
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Covering events is far more than lining up folks for the requisite group shots, podium photos of speakers and showing (or making it look like) how well attended the event was. Like everywhere else, there are stories at events and I try to find them. Even speaker photos and groups can show the mood of the event if you do them right. I cover these as I did in my news photography days and always have my eye out for the telling image.
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One of my favorite places to take pictures (and just hang out). Most of these are from the Big Island. Others are from Waikiki, Maui, and Kauai.
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They were both in the science club and the band, neither of them was popular nor had access to any of the popular cliques. But they were the kind that didn’t care too much about that as long as they kept clear of the school bullies.
Ron still had problems with them at times because being of just less than average height, thin and unathletic, wearing glasses that were a little too thick, and perhaps a few steps too far from their aggressive male stereotype. He made a good target. Alicia didn’t seem to mind the teasing she faced, however. She had a pleasant face, dark blond hair that curled naturally but just a little too much to manage and was what a polite adult would call “heavy set.”
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“441B North to X-ray,” Mr. McKee called out, hanging up the phone and turning to us who were sitting around, a bit cramped in the office/mailroom that was our base. It was a slow morning so most of us were there. Mr. McKee was great, a career Army noncom, retired after decades serving. Among ourselves, we called him Sarge. He was infallibly fair, almost unflappable, and when he did get frustrated, he was careful not to direct it at anyone (in the room, anyway) and came up with some creative, colorful, expressions to express his displeasure that were always acceptable in mixed company.
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