Muse

How Quickly We Forget

A year... A whole year I lived on Caddo Lake. No phone, no tv, no internet, no anything. Just me and a small boat and some local buddies. We spent countless hours on that lake, explored all of it's wonderful backwater channels and swamps. Hunted it's skies and fished it's waters. But in just a few short years I had really forgotten how incredibly amazing it is as a place and an experience. It took going with someone who had never seen it to really remember what it was like. Yesterday we went out and floated around a bit between storms, got stuck on a swamp island barely big enough for two, got soaked, got muddy, got happy.

Oh The Things You'll See!

Was out and about yesterday morning and hit up a strange little rummage sale. First off it was private. You had to be on a mailing list to know it was happening. I am not that cool, but as it turns out some of the people I hang with are, so off we went. First thing we saw when we walked in the door was this.



Turns out there was a complete set with all the mayoral candidates at one time. But shortly after his election the Cedric edition was stolen.

I mean... who doesn't need a pair of Liz Swaine whitey tightys?

Le Brutale

The half-naked ring girl sits ringside, her back to the fighters, and smiles nervously. The raucous music plays at an unholy level. The hammer strikes the bell with a ring that cuts through the thick sweating air. The fight begins.

Even in the most basic, brutal playings of a amateur martial arts fight night there is beauty. It's really strange to find it at the end of the day, when you least expect it.

The Misadventures of Chesley Roberts

I have had more than one intern bail on a tough assignment. So when I offered our current intern the opportunity to help me out with a Preview cover shoot, I wondered if the desire the learn or the snooze button would win the fight.



But sure enough Chesley Roberts, a student at Western Kentucky and a Shreveport native, showed up right on time at 6:45 a.m. in the Willis-Knighton parking lot. It's always good to have an extra set of [dry] hands when you are shooting the cover of the weekly entertainment magazine... underwater.



After making sure I had what I needed, I got out of the pool, handed the camera and underwater housing to Chesley and told her to get in and shoot. After laughing at me for trying to stay on the bottom with no weight belt earlier, she got her own opportunity to give it a try and found out it wasn't so easy. But after a bit she got it down and made a couple nice images.

Although we haven't finished shooting... here are some of my photos of local Triathlete Joe Hinton.





And a couple by Chesley as well.

Sadness in the Wind

The small plane stands out in the vastness of the blue West Texas sky. As the scream of the turbines dies, a somber silence blankets the air, only the uncontrollable sobbing cries of a grieving mother can be heard over the constant wind, buffeting through the bunched groups of family and friends.

An eternity passes before the door opens with a crack and six soldiers carried a seventh across the blazing white tarmac. The family touches the flag-draped casket as it glides into the hearse.



Along the open highway roughnecks, ranchers and oil men all stop. Some get out of their trucks, hold their hats against their chest and stand at attention as the procession rolls past. Later, in town, eight thousand people stand along the road in total silence as the war-battered body of a young man passes into the city limits for the last time. School children are bussed to the short route to stand with flags and learn what it means to be a patriot.

As a father grieves quietly, the body of Cpl. Ray Michael Bevel makes it's final sojourn.

Cpl. Ray Michael Bevel

For those who have not heard, my cousin Ray was killed by an IED in Iraq over the last weekend. This weekend my family is all headed to West Texas for his funeral services. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

Ray was a sweet kid with a big heart and big ears. He was quiet and polite and I don't recall him ever saying a cross word to anyone.

When all the other cousins had gotten to cool to hug... Ray was always the one to get in there and grab you around the waist and squeeze his goodbyes out of you. I will miss his shining face.

Too Much

OK. Sorry guys... I went as long as I could... but the kid is just too damn cute NOT to be on my blog. I introduce to you my nephew...



I doubt this is the last time you will see him.

Empathy

I have written before about the difficulty of covering funerals, it's hard to explain what it's like. Most of the time for us it's just another day at work. But on occasion it can be emotionally taxing. Military funerals are especially hard for me. I have a relative overseas in the war and it's always hard to lock that out.



Yesterday I shot Coach Eddie Robinson's funeral. I wrote earlier in the week about spending a day with him and his wife. So having seen the way they were together I knew the funeral might be difficult. For the most part it was a happy occasion, a celebration by thousands of people who had gathered together to celebrate his life.

But during the first song, Doris Robinson broke down and wept. The strength and composure she had shown all week left her in an instant. For just three minutes in a nearly four hour funeral we saw the grief and sorrow that strikes someone who has lost the one thing they love the most.



Watching through thousands of dollars of glass and mirrors, you can't look away and the camera is no longer a barrier. You are involved. You watch and you shoot and you are truly attached. For a moment you feel just a fraction of what that person feels and there is nothing to be done about it. All we can do is our jobs and try to understand what true empathy feels like.

Industrial Art

I love shooting heavy industry. I don't know why, but it always seems to have a certain grit about it. There is very little color so when color does show up its always vibrant. Here are a few examples, one from a construction site and the other from the Port of Shreveport.