Contractors began Tuesday changing the path for the Starbucks on South State Street by removing almost all of the trees, the shrubs, and vegetation at the rear of the property to make way for a new parking lot, drive-through lane, and entrance to the coffee shop.
Let’s continue the exploration of portrait photography with a frame of Fr. Jonathan Wilson standing at the rear of St. Paul the Apostle Catholic Church before saying his first Sunday Mass after assuming duties as the new pastor succeeding Fr. Charles Klinger.
Father Wilson had made several other appearances at Mass previously although this was his first Sunday Mass.
I spend time before the 7:30 a.m. services continuing a project begun a number of years ago. Titled “St. Paul Sunday Morning,” it is a collection of photos taken around and inside the church. Almost all are before the earliest Sunday Mass although sometimes I wait until a later time because of a special occassion or service later in the day.
The rumor mill told me Fr. Wilson would say Mass at the Sunday services so I stationed myself at the rear of the church a few minutes before the start of services. I’d earlier made photos outside the church just in case I wasn’t able to make Fr. Wilson my St. Paul Sunday Morning photo.
He and Deacon Mickey arrived adjacent to the baptismal font where I’d positioned myself for a quick frame.
Shot in portrait mode with my iPhone XsMax using the small cross in the background as both a design element for depth and as a defining element adding to the sacramental aspect of the photo.
Processed in Focos app to adjust the depth of field and slightly alter the highlight shapes. Finished processing in Snapseed using the portrait function to emphasize the face and eyes. Slight crop to eliminate dead space at left and bottom.
Shot five frames only one of which Fr. Wilson’s expression was slightly animated. Must admit I surprised him so he was a little less animated than I’d hoped.
I am hoping for more opportunities to make photos of Fr. Wilson but there is a great historical context in this portrait.
Photographers Terry Gilliam, left, Mark Hall, second from left, and Chris Kasson, right, pose with me for a photo in this undated photo from the darkroom at Muirfield Village Golf Club in Dublin. The only time this darkroom in the lower level of the new clubhouse was used was during Memorial, the Sondheim Cup, and the Ryder Cup. For those of you who are too young to know or your memories have failed, Gilliam is holding a roll of color film, probably one he shot at the tournament.
This darkroom is quite a departure from an earlier space in the old clubhouse where we set up a complete darkroom in the caddy’s toilet area. It isn’t unusual to use a toilet area for a temporary darkroom. It has all the required plumbing, a door that could be closed and sealed to make a dark working space, and it out of the normal flow of people.
Except it was the caddy’s toilet and we were required to give them access and any time, without delay.
About every 15 minutes a caddy who had completed a round and finished walking the course for several hours needed to use the toilet. Most stood at the urinal. Sometimes their need was more urgent and explosive. In the confined and almost hermetically sealed space we now called a darkroom.
Add the smell of darkroom chemicals to the odiferous leavings of our caddy friends and there were times when processing and printing were delayed. It’s hard to explain to a New York AP photo editor that you are going to be slightly delayed because a caddy just used your darkroom as a toilet.
Our move into the new clubhouse gave us a space that included a real darkroom sink, a film processing room that was built to be dark, and no need for a folding card table to hold the photo transmitter.
Eventually we no longer need the printing space when we began to use film scanners. Then we began to use digital cameras and found ourselves in the main press room area sharing space with the international crew of writers that always cover tournaments at Muirfield.
Now it is possible for photographers to never leave the course and upload their photos via wireless to an off-site location where a photo editor can immediately deliver photos to newspapers across the world.
That’s quite a difference from the days when it took several minutes to process film, several more minutes to make a print, type out a caption on sticky paper to attach to the print and then spend 30 minutes sending cyan, magenta, and yellow color separations across leased telephone lines.
I’ll take digital any day.
Julie K. Brown, an investigative journalist for The Miami Herald, expected to spend the week on the same emotionally brutal endeavor she has pursued for more than two years: interviewing women who say that, as girls, they were part of a sex ring run by the wealthy financier Jeffrey Epstein.
In 2017, Brian Brackeen, founder and CEO of facial recognition software Kairos and managing partner of Lighthouse Capital, took to Medium to call out Inc. Magazine. “I was approached by Inc. Magazine for a feature on the life of a successful Black entrepreneur,” Brackeen wrote.
One day near July 4th for the past 15 years there’s a party on Timberbank Lane. It’s main food attraction is barbecued ribs prepared by about 10 chefs each hoping that their choice of ribs, rub, sauce, and preparation will win the title of The Rib King of Timberbank Lane. Other than a congratulatory cheer at the winner’s announcement, the only award is an apron and chef’s hat. Both are supposed to be returned in time to be awarded to next years winner.
The palm-size golden pig trophy didn’t make it back several years ago so it’s down to apron and hat. I imagine the pig’s permanent owner turning away from cable news during a commercial break to see the porcelain porcine prize posing between his softball and bowling trophies and remembering the year his ribs were the best. On Timberbank Lane.
Each year the cookoff gets more serious. Last year a relative of the neighbors who sponsor the culinary cookoff towed a commercial smoker behind his pickup truck arriving the day before the cookoff. He sat with it all night smoking half a hog in addition to the four slabs of ribs required for the competition. This year he brought his more portable Traeger smoker that fit in his truck bed. It was large enough for the four slabs of ribs and a complement of brats for those who wanted a snack before eating ribs.
The brats were great, I’m told.
The recipe for the event is simple. Every chef makes four slabs of ribs. They must be home cooked and prepared with rub and sauce made by the cook. No commercial-cooked ribs and no store-bought sauce. This is a serious contest. If you don’t have the fortitude to be told your ribs are good enough to compete but not good enough to win, then it’s okay to just show up to eat. It never happens that previous year’s losers return with the same combination of rub and sauce.
The ribs are offered in aluminum serving trays, one dedicated to each cook’s entry. The tray is assigned a toothpick with a colored paper flag that disquises the cook’s identity. First, second, and third-place choices are placed in red, white, and blue cups that mark not only the patriotic colors of the celebration but also the matching award ribbons. There are no awards for second and third place. They are required only for the announcement phase so the awardees know early that their ribs are losers and they have failed, and won’t be The Rib King of Timberbank Lane.
Debuting this year was a rib prepared in a style not previously seen by anyone at the cookoff.
One of the cooks finished his rubbed, smoked, and sauced ribs by deep-frying them after they came out of the smoker. Yes, deep-fried barbecue ribs. Slow-cooked, smoked, slathered with home-made barbecue sauce, coated in flour, and fried in a propane-fired turkey fryer. It was a first for the The Rib King of Timberbank Lane Annual Rib Cookoff near the 4th of July.
Each year always has a first of soemthing. Sometimes it’s the return of a neighbor who moved away in the last year. Or a new bride or groom or child, or the latest grandchild. Or it’s someone who decides its easier to contribute by making their best and famous recipe for scalloped corn or a chocolate graham cracker crust cheesecake covered in tart cherries with a whipped cream crown at the center, or spicy meatballs slow-cooked in a marinara sauce. The covered-dish category is a safe place. There are no losers in the covered-dish category.
Don’t want to forget the cornhole tournament that begins as soon as the ribs are gone. Fueled by the smoked meat, scalloped corn, cheesecake, cookies and cupcakes, and fortified with a healthy helping of adult beverages, the tournament goes on until near midnight with little complaint by the neighbors, all of whom have been at the cookoff, have eaten too much, and are now home complaining of the size of their stomachs, or asleep.
Every now and then one of my photos is resurrected to be published in a historical retrospective and this July 4 brings a 1981 photo of President Carter in a parade down Peachtree Street in Atlanta. Within a year I would be working out of the Columbus AP bureau where I would stay until retirement in 2004.
At bottom left is the photo and a portion of the original caption. At right is the AP story marking highlights of other president’s July 4 activities. It’s a fun read.
By CALVIN WOODWARDAssociated Press WASHINGTON (AP) – Through history, the Fourth of July has been a day for some presidents to declare their independence from the public. They’ve made tracks to the beach, the mountains, the golf course, the farm, the ranch. In the middle of the Depression, Franklin Roosevelt was sailing to a Hawaii vacation.
My Final Photo for July 4, 2019, continues the tradition of making a photo of Westerville Reserve Police Officer Ted Bretthauer accompanied by a few kids saluting the Honor Guard as it leads the July 4th parade through Uptown Westerville.
Bretthauer is not always at the same intersection and has some times been so far away that I couldn’t find him Uptown. This year he was at Main and State and ready for his annual action photo.
The photo chosen for My Final Photo is different than any of the other years I’ve made this photo. It is with a wide-angle lens showing Bretthauer and the children at the far right of the frame with the Honor Guard proceeding down the center of State Street as they cross Main. Included the sky, the perspective slanted view of storefronts, and the Main Street sign.
Using a wide angle requires good composition and the selection of storytelling elements that eliminates distractions. This photo is divided into thirds with the left element (Honor Guard) balancing the right element (Brettauer and kids) with the center third an open space that works an an open space indicating movement by the Honor Guard. The traffic signal arm, usually a great distraction, works to balance the open space of the sky and acts as a frame to keep the viewer’s eye from falling out of the photo.
I’ve never attempted, with great expectation, shooting this photo with a wide-angle usually because the background does little to contribute to the story that makes the photograph important enough that it can become a personal marker challenging me to be better next time or as a discovery of a new way to see an ordinary event.
The compositional elements were in alignment, the scene was bright and backlit, and the colors rich. Even caught the Honor Guard with their heels hitting the street in perfect step.
The only thing I’d like to have different is for that golf cart to not have parked behind the kids when the Honor Guard passed. I had to watch my angle to get it obscured as much as possible.
I’ve included a second wide-angle view and a telephoto version (my normal view) for your appraisal and discussion.
Westerville Reserve Officer Ted Bretthauer salutes as he stands with his three young charges as the police department Honor Guard passes at the lead of the 4th of July parade through Uptown Westerville. My Final Photo for July 4, 2019.
From Bosnia to West Africa, she has witnessed tragedy. But the photo of two drowned Salvadoran refugees this week still left Corinne Dufka in shock.
“It’s horrific,” Dufka, an associate director at Human Rights Watch, says of the picture, which shows a father and his 23-month old daughter dead, face down in the Rio Grande. “Photojournalism is full of images which have illuminated the gravity of a situation, made it less possible to ignore it or spurred both ordinary people and policy makers to action.”
In a world of unremitting information and video-driven chaos, the still photograph is an older and perhaps seemingly limited medium. But a solitary, silent shot can make remote news feel urgent and personal.
The deaths of Óscar Alberto Martínez Ramírez and his daughter Valeria, documented in an image made by journalist Julia Le Duc and distributed by The Associated Press this week, became an instant, singular moment in the immigration debate.
Other images not only recorded history, but helped make it. Karen Irvine, curator of Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary Photography, cites pictures of police tear-gassing civil rights protesters. Timothy B. Tyson, author of “The Blood of Emmett Till,” says the grotesque image of the black teenager murdered in 1955 by whites in Mississippi was a crucial part of the civil rights movement.