Right off the bat, it is clear that Joe knows much more than just how to photograph. He’s a narrative writer, plain and simple, with masterful stories about photography to tell. He starts with an interpersonal revelation of the camera manual and how he (and many others) neglects to open it.

I use aperture priority often, but still find use for manual. It’s nice having the ability to control everything for max creativity, it’s important to me that I can be creative on the fly and make every photograph inherently my own. Aperture priority has its uses though. For outdoor sports it’s almost a must – anytime there’s an unruly cloud in the sky, it seems as though it will hover over you at the most inopportune moment, then multiply to take a once-clear sky and punch it full of holes. Aperture priority is like the safety net of the camera. It helps you stick every shot in almost any light. 

The histogram is a useful tool, as Joe would corroborate, and it’s useful for me once in a week or so, when I forget to change my settings before hastily jumping on-scene at an assignment. There are times when I go from shooting the stars at 100k ISO to being flashbanged by my digital viewfinder at a gorgeously sunny baseball park. I’ll use my histogram before looking through the viewfinder just to remind me what I was shooting the night before, but not much else. The best tool on a camera are the hands controlling it.

“Think like the camera,” says Joe McNally. “Veer into close orbit with Ice Planet 255, where there is no sustainable pixel life.” I love messing with exposure compensation. On my R5, I can change EV on my lens as I focus on what I choose to, and the camera will adjust accordingly. This is an insanely useful tool, as I have the ability to set my camera on AV, drop the EVs to -2 and get deep, dark, mystery, or the opposite at +2 for a shiny, white, aesthetic veneer. And all of that in the blink of an eye, the turn of a wheel on a lens with an AI focus on a subject that I can see focused on by way of little green boxes in the viewfinder, and all the while seeing the environment of light change before me in what can only be considered a miracle of technology.

“Apologies to right-eyed shooters. You’re screwed.” I love that line. Ben Suddendorf is left-eyed. When I asked him how he managed, his answer was likely much the same as what Joe McNally’s would be. He just does it. Sure, you might have to change up your grip a bit sometimes, but that’s just the reality of shooting left-eyed. I just thought that tidbit was interesting. When Joe describes his shoot in “The Swamp” for a commercial shoot, I am proud to say that I understand everything that he said. A couple years ago I would’ve likely pretended that I knew so as to emulate a strong photographer, but I know that emulating strength is actually the inverse of the reality.

Adam Wood of the Mt. Pleasant branch of USPS reflects on his job, the challenges that this past year have imposed and how he is doing his part to help his community overcome. Music courtesy of bensound.com

10. Clarkston freshman Abbey Tolmie tracks down a deep fly ball against Ball State, Apr. 2.

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St. Patrick’s Day daily assignment

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Scenes from St. Patrick’s day at The Bird Bar and Grill as well as O’Kelly’s Bar and Grill as patrons celebrate what has become a national drinking holiday.

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A trumpeter swan as pictured through a mirror in ARK’s nursery, Mar. 21.

This video highlights my passions, my goals, and my work. As an avid outdoorsman and nature photographer, I wish to bring light to the natural world before it falls apart around us. We live on a beautiful planet – it is my goal that no human being will be able to take that for granted after viewing any of my images, or any that I am yet to take.

Music: cover of Galapagos by the Smashing Pumpkins

JRN.422 COVID story

As an educator, Jay Gross is the head of the Teachers’ Union and the Head of English. He’s spoken around the country on a variety of topics including technology in education and the importance of relationship-building as an educator. He has nine dogs – all rescues – and three kids – whom he and his wife adopted.

Jay has been an educator at Shepherd High school for over 21 years, teaching kids everything from English to public speaking in a variety of classes. But after all of his years of dedication, with the entrance of COVID-19 and the departure of face-to-face learning, the medium of which Jay thrives, Jay admits that he quickly realized he couldn’t do it anymore; “It’s the kids that make it worthwhile – seeing the realization on their faces as they come to understand Frankenstein’s monster or Hamlet… with my kids, I can put up with anything.”

The stresses of online school led him to officially retire Wednesday, Nov. 18. “It’s just so impersonal… I can’t do it, dude,” Jay revealed to me after teaching what would be one of his last class sessions Saturday, Nov. 14.

He spends what time he can at home, back in the woods with his loved ones; “This is my safe space – I mean look around. I love it out here.”

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This project was easy enough – finding a subject who has been effected by COVID is an easy task, but finding someone who has a meaningful story because of it was more challenging. Or perhaps I’m just picky. The only real challenge that I faced during this project was coming home to my dog after spending a day with nine new dogs, my boy seemed to get rather upset at me after he was able to discern all the new smells. And if that’s the only problem you face while shooting, that means it went pretty smoothly.

After the Midland project was finalized, I had less than two weeks to find a subject and get the story done – I hadn’t even given the COVID story much thought because the Midland project had my full attention for so long. So, needless to say, this was a welcome break from tradition, a healthy change-of-pace.

I only got to go out a handful of times – Jay is a very busy man, especially now – and then he retired the day after I went out last; being my favorite teacher I’ve ever had, it hurt me to see him suffering while doing what he loved.

JRN.422 daily assignment

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As one of the key rural areas surrounding Lansing, Howell has been a battleground between the colors of Red and Blue. This rally, doubling as a “Back the Blue” counter-protest, began slowly as the cars rolled into the nearly vacant parking lot. The supporters of the cause began to circulate, purchasing memorabilia such as flags, signs, shirts, and even books. Shortly thereafter, the music began to rumble, vibrating off of the car windows in deafening assent.

Passers by honking their assent seemingly in time with the beat bolstered the morale of the protestors as the air seemed to hum with anticipation for the upcoming speeches. In the distance, a blanket drapes over the side of a merchant tent, President Trump’s visage poorly realized, improved upon with bulging muscles and a distinct lack of wrinkles, a body that would make Arnold Schwarzenegger even a bit jealous. In his hands, a heavy machine gun with a rocket propelled grenade stuck in the end for cinematic effect, or, more accurately, comedic.

Following the insults hurled in the general direction of Joe Biden and “Fake News,” the speakers would always end with that classic hint of propaganda to keep the blood flowing.

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This particular project was not fun. I am very much not a fan of large groups of people, especially now, as this particular group was entirely naked upon the face – mask-less. I stayed a good distance segregated from others and furthermore, my camera seemed to part the crowds as it was. So aside from my apprehensions regarding crowds, it was alright. I moved rather fluidly through the crowds to capture different images from different angles as well as compositions.

This project was easier than the others as it was just the one-day feature project. I think the hardest part of capturing this story was driving to the event – my gas tank took a major hit – but I believe I learned a good amount about how to photograph these types of events.

A snapshot of the hard land and the harder people that live on it.

The sun lazily climbs the distant hills, painting its pastel oranges and yellows across the rugged brown cliffs and scrub brush that dot the landscape. The air is crisp and the wind biting, a sharp frost crunches beneath my feet as I make my way to the downed fence that Monty Carson has already been working on for two hours now. Where the Carson ranch is located, there aren’t many fences. All of the cattle are branded with their flying-C logo just to make sure that what is theirs stays theirs.

Raising the fencepost driver above his bleached straw hat, he pounds it into the wooden pole repeatedly, driving it down into the hard rocky earth. The ranch sits on 4,000 acres of owned land and a few thousand more leased from the U.S. government. “There are no farmers here,” says Monty “the badlands make it tough to do just about anything.”

The Carsons have been ranching in the Beicegel Creek valley since 1950 and the now Co-owners, Ron and Monty, their whole lives. They raise cattle that they pasture on their massive expanse of land, and they use their steer calves for rodeo events. They also own a rodeo production company, Carson Productions, that they use to put on around a dozen events per season.

“It’s honest livin’, ranching like we do. Or so I’ve been told. Don’t know much else,” Monty said, looking toward the sunrise.

The ranchers in North Dakota have a culture to them: they are a hard, resilient, and distant in terms of relationships and actual distance from other people. To get in with them, I first had to find someone in the city who had family on a ranch. My ranch family was very kind, though COVID kept us distant as well. Aside from hiking their property and remembering to pick my jaw up off the floor, I spent my time watching them ride, feed cattle, and just talk about good ‘ole country livin’.