No Still Photography Allowed

No Still Photography Allowed

If that were only the truth!

I just finished my nine day odyssey at the 2012 Sony Open in Hawaii.  I’ve had my complete fill of sun, pollen, sunburn, Old Spice, pesticides, idiot volunteers, and sensitive golfers.  Oh how we marched and humped the flat yet hot course out at the Waialae Country Club chasing Ryo-kun and any golfer who dared to stray into first place for those few 100 yards or so.

I’ve shot the Sony Open in Honolulu for the last several years and it never seems to get any easier with all the running around and struggles of the course and not to mention the hours of being out in the sun.  Every year at the end of the tourney, I get what I call a sun cold…better yet, a golf cold.  I have my face down in the grass for multiple days inhaling all the pollen and pesticides I could ever want in a long drawn out week.  Come wednesday, I get sneezy, congested, and irritable.  The irritability just might be my irascible personality run afoul by the incomprehensible logic of volunteer marshals, the errant golf balls from the Pro Amers, and a weighty 400mm F2.8 lens digging into my neck muscles.

 Golf is one of those sports that just begs to ask why anyone would pursue such a unreasonable game where a putt depends on whether the grains of the grass are facing towards or away from you, or whether your ball will slice or hook on the based on how your hands grip the driver.  How ironic that basketball players get booed and screamed at when doing free throws from the line but golfers can’t take even a bright shirt if its in their eye sight.  A gentleman’s sport, indeed!  Especially when you hear certain golfers swearing like sailors when a ball goes off course or a putt doesn’t fall just like they envisioned.

Regardless of my own prejudice of the game (note…I’ve been know to roam the cloudy cool hills of the Pali golf course so I’ve no real complaints) I truly enjoy shooting the sport.  The anticipation, the surprises, the reactions are all so great.  Its completely boring most of the time as so many of the players possess that calmness the sport demands which doesn’t allow them to showboat or hoot and holler when sinking an eagle.  Sure you get the fist pump but you’ll never get the true “jube” shots you’ll find in other sports.

Whether its pure madness to follow the Japanese sensation Ryo Ishikawa, who I truly think looks like an real life anime character, I’ll never truly understand.  I think its the pack mentality of rushing around with a dozen or so photographers from the US and Japan, all struggling to capture that unique image of the golfer in pure rapture or total disbelief in his ability to make a two inch ball land in just the right spot.  Even though you can’t communicate with each other due to a language barrier or a sensitive golf caddie, we share the same sweat, pain, sunburns, and struggle.  One big unified mass chasing a bunch of dopes chasing a little white ball.

I do have a favorite shot of the week and its of this guy David Hearn hitting out of the bunker on the ninth green.  I just found his expression of fear, worry, hope, and more fear more appealing than most of the stuff I shot that day.  He fizzled at the end of the tournament allowing moustached Johnson Wagner to win all the marbles.  Do I dare say Mr. Wagner’s prowlness is due to his hairy lip?  We’ll never know.

 

 

UP! UP! AND AWAY!

UP! UP! AND AWAY!

Look!  Up in the sky!  Its a bird!  Its a plane!  Its…uh…wait a minute…its…its…its just a guy in a helicopter with a camera.

I wasn’t superman for the day but it sure felt like it!  September proved to be pretty exciting as I was commissioned to shoot for Hemispheres Magazine, United Airlines In-flight magazine,  and cover the Big Island for their Three Perfect Days section.  In three days, I drove (and flew) across the Big Island shooting the lushness of Hilo, the cold stars of Mauna Kea, the blackness of Kilauea, and the resorts of the Kohala Coast…all the while fighting rain, clouds, chill, and vog.  What a mess those three perfect days!

Perhaps the most exciting bit had me floating over lava and sea in a chartered helicopter.  How exciting to ride up in a the sky with no doors and only a buckle and God to keep me from becoming part of the aina!

We took off from the Hilo airport with little introduction to what lay ahead.  We walked straight out onto the runway, buckled in, and away we went.  Jersey Rob of Paradise Helicopters said fuggitaboutit as it was routine and I had nuthin to worry about.  I’ve flown several times in military Blackhawks for work here and there but this was one of those small four seaters that doesn’t offer any imagination to what lies just beyond the seatbelts.  As we levitated off the ground and shot across the green lush areas around Hilo, you immediately sense the uniqueness of being in a small bubble, no bigger than a Hyndai’s car cabin, spinning through the cotton.  Yet just outside that doorless portal gushed propeller wash and streaming jets of air.  I stuck my head and arms out a bit too far and found the wind nearly tearing me and my cameras out into the abyss.

Our first hover was directly over Honolii surf spot just north of Hilo.  A group of early morning surfers, who were not to keen to having a helicopter disturbing their morning sets, awaited their anticipated breaks and I perfectly captured the lone girl and the rocks below.  If you look close enough, you can actually see tropical fish swimming around her.  Unbelievable!

After a quick hover over the beach and surf spots, we zoomed back over Hilo and flew to the volcanic rift zone.  Green gave away to the mesmerizing black volcanic landscape.  Black lava rock.  Endless.  As if life first started.  It all appears like death but its actually life giving as the eruptions create new land.  Since 1983, the lava flows from Kilauea produced hundreds of acres of new land but has also destroyed entire communities and covered many once beautiful beaches and landscapes.  My pictures and words can’t describe what is out in Volcano, HI.  Every time I go out there, I stare and get lost in what once was…endless lava fields of blackness and life.

The pilot few us over Kilauea and directly over Pu’u Oo cone, where the lava is currently flowing.  Now this is the exciting part. Magma…as Dr. Evil would say.  Loads of magma flowing like a river.  Lava poured and bubbled all over making for a SPECTACULAR show.  National Geographic ain’t got nothing on what’s out there.  A river of lava oozed down the ridge like glowing hot toothpaste gurgling from the depths.  We probably hovered no more than 30 or more stories above the lava but it felt as if a portal to the underworld lay below.

Just mesmerizing!  Lava.  Magma.  Darkness.  Red. Black.  A little grey.  Amazing.

If you can’t fly the month of December on United, please download the spread from here.  Its a small pdf file which should easily download.

A big thank you to the guys at Paradise Helicopter in Hawaii for helping me get the shot.  Thanks Rob.  Another big mahalo to the BIBV for providing so much to make this impossible trip happen.  Thanks Jessica.

But no thanks to the crappy weather.  No thanks to the grey clouds and the congestive vog.  Couldn’t make perfect this time but you just wait.

A day that will live in infamy…

A day that will live in infamy...

I’ve written plenty about my Pearl Harbor project so there’s not much to blog about other than the Smithsonian is featuring my work for the 70th anniversary of the surprise Japanese attack.

You can see the link here or go to www.smithsonian.com.

Nothing comes without hard work.

Thank you Erica and Jamm.  Without you, this project wouldn’t have gone anywhere.

 

 

 

 

Another Photo EtC

Another Photo EtC

The APEC Summit has come and gone.  To me, and to probably loads of other photographers, APEC was just Another Photo, EtC…

What a pain!  3AM call times so Secret Service could sweep you and your gear, the suspicious stares from foreign security guards, the endless traffic congestion due to heighten security and dignitaries’ motorcades, the endless waiting for someone to make an appearance.  It just goes on and on.

Yet, I’ve gotten to photograph the three most powerful men in the world…Medvedev, Obama, and Hu Jintao.  No to mention Hillary Clinton, just about every APEC nation’s leaders landing at the airport.  I was no further than a very short stone’s throw from two of the most powerful men whose mere presence can shake the course of history.  Do I exaggerate?  Anyone who holds the US debt plus possibly the EU’s?  No.  I don’t exaggerate.

Yet, its all just Another Photo, EtC.  Really.  Images to catalog, to burn on a disc, and to file away. After its all over, all you have left is the lingering rush and adrenaline still pumping from the job.

The Associated Press was happy as I got a “Thanks for the good work” email from Tom Stathis…and that means a lot.  I got to be a part of something important although I was just on the outside.

Here are a few of the selects from the APEC hell week.

Above you see Mr. Obama through the bullet proof glass of his pimped out Caddy.  As he drove up to the tarmac and I spotted him in the rear seat, I couldn’t help to be struck by the fact that he’s the US President.

The toughest part of the week was being stuck on arrival duty and having to be cleared to enter Joint Base Pearl Harbor/Hickam at 4am on Friday and 3am on Saturday.  Those days were tough yet I got to see the smiling Dimitry Medvedev exiting his crappy Russian state plane.  The Sultan of Brunei had the BIG PIMPIN’ 747 ride that was just as big as Air Force One, or so it seems.  Hu Jintao was rumored to hit Honolulu’s Chinatown but since I live a few blocks away, I would have probably been alerted to the super security that would have surrounded the Chinese presidents’ present, no?  He, Medvedev and and Obama had full on security detail meaning they could shut down the city when they rolled.  I saw no such action in Ctown the week they were here.

One rumor I read was the Russian delegation demanded the bars at the Modern Waikiki (hotel) remain open 24 hours a day.  Stoli on the rocks at any time, no?

The Hu Jintao photo op was mired in constant “meiyou meiyou” and suspicious glares.  The Chinese security forces around the President clearly were doing their job but seemed awfully unorganized and never believed anything the American handlers would tell them.  Constant badgering, criticism, and attitude.  Constant confrontation and getting into people’s faces.  Not aggressive like Westerners but like Chinese…a mildly aggressive badgering.  Bad haircuts and bad suits.  At the end, we were hosed by the State Run media which got the better pictures and we got sidelined for cheaper and faster images.  And when I say State Run, I refer to China, not our government media complex.

Speaking of bad suits,  we had a run in with Russian security.  As we were waiting in media line to enter Hickam for the arrivals on Friday, three guys in cheap suits got in line with us and tried to enter the base.  They drove a black US sedan (which you knew stunk of Russian cigarettes and vodka and probably had a dissident tied and bloodied in the trunk) and got out of the car eyeing all of us suspiciously while sauntering over to the military police to get onto base. Medvedev was arriving and they had a job to do.  They were young and didn’t look all the menacing but you knew if you screwed with them, you’d end up in the trunk with that dissident.  I looked for bloody knuckles and blood smears on their jackets to no avail.  The Cold War lives on.

Security was insane…but who can blame them.  Imagine the fool who could get close enough to knock off a world leader.  Their names would line the history books!  I remember when I worked as an assistant and being left alone in a studio with Bill Gates for like 15 minutes.  Boy did my mind drift to those c stands in the corner and how I could use it as a bat. We all know who assassinated Lincoln, Lennon, Kennedy, and Reagan, no?*  Gates?  Well, it didn’t happen.  Your kid won’t learn about me in the history books and they’ll still have to deal with Windows crashing.

*Booth, Chapman, Oswald, Hinckley.

And for my last image, all I have to say is the 60’s live on.  Most of those protesters, God bless ’em, who demonstrated in anti-APEC protests across town and in the country do have a point.  Banks, politicians, media, etc…are in need for reform.  I myself can’t help but to wonder how members of Congress are able to dance around insider trading laws, how millionaires like Michael Fat Boy Moore and P Diddy can hob nob with the protesters, and how the Democrats claim to support the peoples when they are the 1%.  Obama didn’t fund raise at Disney’s Aluani with the homeless out living on the Waianae Coast.  He charged $1000 per head and pix with the Commander in Chief were $5000.  I wish AP paid me what those donors paid for a simple snap with Barack.  I’d be big pimpin’ with da Sultan in no time.

Again, back to the pits…the harry hippies of yesteryear haven’t disappeared.  Their indelible stain on society protrudes on our lovely siren holding a most important bed sheet while splashing around Waikiki’s warm waters.  Yet might it be the marketing and the romance of the hippie culture which sells the image of revolution?  No doubt the younger generations have copycatted the protest movements, clothing, music and chants of those stinking masses of yesteryear.  The chants of “Hey Hey Ho Ho (add your chic cause here) has got to go!” are no different than those chanted by those who spit on my uniformed father when he returned from ‘Nam.  The attraction of free love and free living along with being free of all society’s constraints is just too great.   And to think those sandal wearing pot smokers went on to sell their wares in the capitalists markets.  Now you can find hippie attire and culture all neatly packaged at Urban Outfitters or other such chain stores.  And lets not skimp on the irony that its made by our comrades in China.

The scarfed, tent dwelling, cardboard waving  sandalnista is no more than a carbon copy of old grainy film stock images of 60’s hippies.  Except they use the the 1%ers Twitter, Facebook and web devices to carry on the message.

The message is correct to some degree but 1969 has come and gone.  Vote them out I say.  We elected the hope and change and got nothing.  Vote them out.  That vote weighs more than some scrawled message on an old cardboard box.  But if we are not careful, we might not even have a vote.  Then we’re gonna need to do something much more than occupying a city park and smoking dope.