ONE SHOT

During my Minneapolis years, a fellow freelancer struggled, as many of us did, awaiting the next job. But Phil had a business savvy dad who randomly dispersed large profits to his children. That would send Phil off for a month to fully explore Hong Kong, Rome or Paris. He would bring an arsenal of photo gear: a Sinar 4x5 view camera, a Hasselblad with various lenses, a Leica with a fast lens for dark street scenes.

This all led him to shoot a little of everything. As a former architecture student, he loved shooting buildings with his 4x5. Scenics brought out the Hasselblad. The Leica was perfect for documentary shooting.

Returning from the trips, he often lamented his collection of photos, realizing they were without theme or direction. Once he shared that if only he had one striking photo from each of his many trips, all the travel would have been more worthwhile. That comment struck me like the perfect shutter click of a rangefinder Leica.

My own travel photography concentrated on covering a country, like one would for a magazine article or adding to a stock photo library. Those approaches changed as stock photography became less profitable. Thinking about Phil’s comment yearning for one striking photo, I began to realize which photos stayed with me from any given trip. Usually there was one, taken without an extreme telephoto or a super wide-angle lens. There had been no stalking a sun angle to catch a giant orb behind a wind mill or light streaming into the windows of a giant cathedral but rather a simple normal perspective of a scene or person.

For me, the best and most enjoyable approach is a single lens choice on one camera. I use it to visually journal as an artist would use a sketch book to record interesting things seen. I am always searching for a special photo but often the photo comes to me. A morning can go by with nothing exceptional, and it is disappointing. Other times a walk down a new street feels like images jump out at me.

Awaiting an island ferry for Casco Bay in Maine, Evan was sitting on a bench across the room. He was gently cradling a small geranium pot with red blossoms. The Gods of Kodak ordained him to wear a red shirt (thank you!). His gaze felt open, and I asked if I could take his picture. He openly shared about his life on a car (and care?) free island where the flowers would adorn his home of 56 years.

I knew before the shot it was my one shot.

A Geranium For Home