Monday, December 3, 2012

Within Eyeshot

At the Newseum last weekend I especially enjoyed watching videos of Pulitzer Prize-winning photographers describe the sequence of events that led to the shooting of their photos.  The first one we selected was the Kent State picture where Mary Vecchio, the young teenager, cries over the body of the gunned-down student Jeffrey Miller in 1970 (click here).  John Filo, the photographer, explains how he thought at first that he had the perfect picture when he captured a student waving a black flag in front of the National Guard.  It was only moments later when he understood that real bullets were being fired and turned unexpectedly to capture the iconic photograph of the student protest movement.

We also watched Sal Veder describe his photograph of returning American POW Robert Stirm whose family, in 1973, rushed to greet him on the tarmac at Travis Air Force Base (click here).  Veder, too, came upon the picture without much thought.  Initially he was taking pictures of the crowd when he saw "a little movement out of the corner of [his] eye," and turned quickly to photograph Stirm's family--an image of joy frozen in time.

Even Joe Rosenthal, who shot the raising of the flag at Iwo Jima, was going for a more posed picture that day in 1945 (click here).  When he came upon a group of Marines planning to replace a small American flag with a larger one that could be seen all over the island, he began calculating his angle and position to get the picture.  He spoke briefly to another photographer when, all of the sudden, the Marines began hoisting the pole.  He clicked and captured what may be the most famous picture of all.

These photographers all thought they were doing one thing when, in fact, they ended up doing something else--something far more significant than they understood at the time.  I wonder if life works like this more often than we realize.  When we spend so much energy focused on our children, or a job, or an illness, or despair, is it possible that something else--something hidden and not fully understood--is happening at the same time?

Maybe we don't need to be as scripted as we think.  We need to show up, of course, and to pay attention, but maybe the high points of our lives aren't the ones we plan.  Maybe they're the ones that form in the corners of our eyes. 

Click.  That photo you took on the fly may turn out better than you expect.

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