Balloons of celebration and balloons of mourning.

Last week I shot lots of balloons - water balloons at a church carnival, and helium balloons released at a memorial park by families who had lost loved ones in the past year.

Carnival shots first.

This is sort of a mini-dunk-tank game, so instead of having a water tank, when the ball hits the target, water balloons pop onto the victim's head.










Then I photographed a balloon release ceremony at Conejo Mountain in Camarillo.








When I photograph mourning families, I always try to be very sensitive to their grief. Sometimes your job as a photojournalist is to get the 'grieving family' shot no matter what. You have to swallow your empathy and intrude on their private moment. But whenever possible, I try to make compassionate photographs and if a family member hides their face, turns away, etc, I prefer to respect their wishes. I'm very sensitive to the wish for privacy at events like this. But occasionally, I come across people who seem not to mind being photographed, but then snarl at me when I ask for their names. This was one of those.

I made a few very sweet frames of this mother and daughter, holding each other, looking at this photo, with their balloons. When I approached to ask their names and reason for attendance, the mother nearly pushed me away and snapped "No. NO! It's different when it's a child."

While I very much sympathize with her grief, I often wish I could explain to people in this situation that as she is attending a public event, I may use the photograph no matter what. If she gives me her name I can publish a beautiful photo with a sensitive caption that explains her reason for grieving, something that she can clip from the paper and keep with her memories of the loved one she lost. Something that might help the process.







This photo ended up running on the front page of the Camarillo Acorn. I only wish I could have spoken to the mother and added a sensitive, empathetic caption rather than just using a generic that talked about the event.

Anyway.

Let's end on a positive note. Here are a pair of shots from the Conejo Valley Days carnival.

The Darkroom

One of the best parts of working in a wet darkoom, watching your image come up under the safe lights, prodding it with the tongs, is the collective that forms. In a place where everyone's images are set one on top of the other and you're looking at your neighbor's photograph as much as your own, you have the opportunity to talk about the process and critique. I love reading photo blogs because I get that same sense of seeing all the images as they come through the print dryer, still a little tacky. But the difference is that there is no conversation. No peering at a friend's negs through the loupe. There's no bulletin board to pin your finished images to, squeezed between everyone else's. You don't get any feedback on the process. You don't have as much discussion. 

Sure, there are comments to read, but it's not the same sort of unrehearsed, colloquial discussion. You can't say, well I like that shot, but this thing in the corner is distracting. It pulls your eye away and well, I just think - let me see that loupe again - yeah, I think this one is a much stronger image. 

So when I go through these blogs, sometimes I get a sense that there is no real community. Or, to be more precise, in this economy I get the sense that the community is also competition. If you can't make a photograph as good as the one on that blog,  you'll never succeed. There is so much more tension. And I feel like now that we're all holding our prints close to our chests, keeping them locked up in LCD screens and terabyte backup drives, you lose the intimacy of the print dryer. And the creative melting pot that comes with it. And the community. 

It can be immensely difficult to make interesting photographs every day without feeling the collective support and creativity of the community around you. That is sometimes the hardest part. 

The Hard Part

The hard part is not winning the awards, although don't get me wrong that is definitely A hard part. The hard part is making an interesting photo every time you lift the camera to your eye.