2014 started with a bang, rather a swish of a golf club. Hawaii is golf central in January. Everyone from Barack to Vijay come to the Islands to hit our beautiful links. My first two weeks of the year are filled with the smell of grass, the pain of walking 18 holes plus an additional 18 holes, and the sound of…well…nothing as pro golfers are too sensitive to the sound of the camera shutter or the sound of anything else. An NBA player or Premiere League footballer can be screamed at during a free throw/kick…but a golfer? Well, silence is the only way to oppose this noble and elite sport.
My week spent at the Kapalua course for the Tour of Champions in Maui was hell. The hilly greens could easily be a ski resort and hiking is the only way to really describe covering the action on this course. The outstanding views of Molokai are touchable from many of the holes and all considering the current weather pattern on the mainland (Jan 2014) there is no better place to be…just don’t ask my knees, thighs or calves the next day. What a pain! Hoisting 400mm f2.8 up hill is no fun.
My next assignment is the relatively flat Waialae Country Club course for the Sony Open staring Wednesday. Its warmer, not as scenic but there are no hills. However, there are many more golfers to cover and be sensitive about ensuring an errant camera shutter disrupt their concentration.
Mr. Obama, above, started my year on the first at Mid Pacific Country Club. The club is one of the few Mr. Obama can play at where the public can actually catch a glimpse of him. Most of the courses he now plays in Hawaii are secluded and difficult to get to but Mid Pac’s 18th hole sits on a public street across from a popular hiking trail. Obama, hat askew, hit off the fairway onto the green and made a long putt that would make any golfer proud. All considering he’s played about 12 rounds of golf during his 15 day Hawaiian vacation, he should be able to make all his putts!
I won’t start ringing the bells just yet and start selling off the cameras but my professional writing career is taking off. We should take my statements lightly as I’m not sure if my authorship can cut the mustard, let alone pay the mortgage; however, we have liftoff. With the first published article on Nimitz in the Star Advertiser to two major bylines worldwide with the Associated Press, I am off to a good start…a GREAT start and end to 2013. I am soooo grateful to Associated Press news editor who happens to share my last name as he put his trust in me to report on the big news. And that big news was following Obama and lafamila around during their annual Xmas vacation in Oahu. I also have to thank Audrey-san and cuz Jen as they might have been the ones who put my Nimitz article in front of hermano Garcia which convinced him I was the right hombre for the job. Señor Garcia (no relation at all) assigned me to cover POTUS and my reporting seemed to do very well and was sent ’round the world.
My assignment placed me inside the media circus that follows the President around. Permanent staffers from all the major media are assigned to cover the President wherever and whenever he travels or just stay put. The coverage, sometimes affectionately referred to as death watch, needs to ensure every minute of the President is accounted for. It is one of the most taxing assignments any journalist is assigned as you have to be ready to capture that moment. Sadly, you have to sacrifice your life as you live for POTUS. Vigilance through the lens or the pen is crucial to this job as anything can happen at any point in time. A slip in concentration could mean missing the assassin’s bullet or the angry Iraqi’s shoe. No telling when that slip will occur or when the aliens comeback to reclaim their property. The truth is you never know when you’ll have the Zapruder film or classic bloopers from the Bush years.
Sadly Obama strongly disregards the professional media and his administration would rather use social media than independent media to get his message out. He routinely uses hand outs from his personal photographer and fiercely guards his image from the press yet; as he keeps back the pros, regular citizens and paparazzi get much better access. The Obama Administration is one of the most unfriendly administration in history towards the media and clearly lacks the transparency he campaigned on.
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My above video shows the view the media bus gets of Obama and it really never gets any better. Some might argue that the President owes the media nothing; however, the media is needed to ensure the government stays honest. If you allow the government to police itself, there will be very few arrest.
Some of you might recall my so called paparazzi encounter with then Presidential candidate Barack Obama in August of 2008 when I parked myself on Kailua Beach waiting for the future POTUS to make an exit and walk down the shore. For three straight days, Obama stayed away and I figured his security detail just kept him informed of my existence. So I took a gamble and left the beach and snuck around to a different beach access point opposite his hoping he’d think I abandoned my assignment. Sure enough, as I walked from the opposite direction, Senator Obama and his two kids left the house and strolled down the beach, hand in hand, with nary a though to where I stood.
Obamarama
I took some of the most intimate pictures of the Senator with his daughters which I feel defined him as a father and made him human. So many times, candidates fake their photo ops and try to pretend they are just like us. They roll up their flannel shirts and help wash dishes, serve food at a homeless shelter, eat at McDonalds like the rest of us. I’ve NEVER believed these people really were who they are. It was fake. Always fake…Romney and Kerry with their millions, Bush with his dynasty. Obama, on the other hand, was caught off guard, and it shows. I caught him being human.
When the Senator actually realized he was being photographed, he got pissed. He waved his sandals at me and yelled at me to leave. Sorry, Senator, its a public beach and you’re a public figure. Secret Service said nothing. I stood next to them and showed everyone respect and dignity. The future President might have been really upset but he signed up for the whole public image thing. In my view, a politician is owned by the public. We demand to see him. His kids are off limits but whenever the parents are out and about, they are fair game.
As far as the writing assignment went, it was beyond boring. It was a tedious exercise in hours of playing Candy Crush, being pestered and pestering others on the media bus, not to mention snacking on really bad vanilla creme cookies and other terribly unhealthy things Michelle surely wouldn’t approve. Obama kept the media completely away, as in many ways, he should as his vacation is somewhat private but we are not there to paparazzi him but to ensure we cover his every move in the inevitable…well lets leave it at that.
I’m extremely thrilled to have more writing under my belt. I’m aiming to continue to add more bylines and stories to my every growing career.
My first professional written article was published in the Star Advertiser Sunday, Nov. 24th. On a trip to Texas last year, it dawned on me how Hawaii and Fredericksburg, Texas, a small town just west of Austin, north of San Antonio, are directly connected by a man who helped win the Pacific War against the Japanese. So I wrote a travel piece on visiting this small town in Texas and the significance of one of the town’s greatest sons has in the history of Hawaii.
Chester Nimitz was born to a German pioneer’s family who help settled parts of Texas. Nimitz rose to be the US Navy Admiral in charge of the Pacific Fleet after the attack on Pearl Harbor. His role in the defeat of the Japanese is slightly overshadowed by the US Army’s Gen. Douglas MacArthur; but in Hawaii, Nimitz’s legacy is not forgotten. Nimitz’s name lends itself to one of Oahu’s most important thoroughfares, Nimitz Highway, along with a nearby elementary school several businesses including a yoga studio and a BBQ joint, although those might be named for their proximity to the road, not the Admiral. At the end of the war, upon returning to Hawaii, he was given a hero’s welcome and led a parade from the battlegrounds of Pearl Harbor to the Kingdom of Hawaii’s historic Iolani Palace. The Admiral was named “Alii aimoku,” or supreme chief, by all the Hawaiian Orders in Hawaii – a rare feat for a haole from Fredericksburg, TX. A war museum was established in his family’s old Fredricksburg hotel and the collection of WWII artifacts rivals Pearl Harbor’s historic museum. The Nimitz Museum actually has the Japanese midget submarine that washed ashore on the beaches of Oahu after the Dec. 7, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor. Quite a collection, indeed!
Please take a moment to read my first travel piece written as a professional “writer.” I’ve never thought of myself as a writer yet I’ve written most of my adult life. Here’s my first chance to prove I can.
After living in Hawaii for sometime, its easy to forget about the beauty that surrounds us. The blue-green sea, the white (eroding) sandy beaches, the food, the weather, the mountains…I can go on and on describing wonderful Hawaii. So its always a challenge when clients ask for something slightly different for as an opening shot.
At any moment, somewhere somehow is snapping a picture, whether it is a family shot or professional shot, around Waikiki. It is one of the most photographed pieces of real estate in the world. There are thousands of professional pictures available on line and clients can easily pick a beautiful stock shot for pennies over a custom shot (uhhhh….for pennies—I digress!) Why hire when there is so much available? Because a custom shot gets you a unique, dare I say signature, vision from a professional photographer that no other client will have.
The Los Angeles Times asked me to shoot a full page image of Waikiki for their travel story illustrating a budget friendly vacation in Honolulu. The editor sent along few images taken by the writer and wanted me to capture a similar feel. My only parameters were to shoot from above, keep it vertical, and ensure I had a killer image at the end of the day. Jobs like this really get me fired up because no amount of money really accounts for all the time and effort it takes in finding a shot as such. But the outcome is completely worth the input. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else as the challenge of my craft is not work, it is just an extension of my life.
The pictures taken by the writer were photographed from one of the better hotel balconies on the beach. All the elements lined up and and made a pretty different view of Waikiki. Oddly enough it seemed the picture wasn’t from one of the budget hotels in the story so my challenge was not to present my image as such. The art direction was to capture Waikiki, not illustrate the story.
Fabulous views command big money and hotels rates are based on the amount of ocean and beach seen from the room. I could easily have called up one of the beach front hotels and asked to shoot from a room but hotels tend not to help you unless the story relates directly to them. I don’t have the budget to shoot from a rented hotel room and a helicopter view was not the perspective the client was after.
After living here for some time, I learned it is possible to enjoy Hawaii without blowing too much diñero and having a great time along with tourist who are taping out their credit cards. I also know how to find the big dollar views without having to shell out big money for hotel rooms or fancy restaurants. Sometimes just wandering around a big hotel looking like a tourist can help you gain access to views you might not be able to if you wandered in full camera regalia and reeked of the decisive moment. Looking like a clueless tourist with a Best Buy camera bag will keep housekeepers and bell hops off your tail.
So without revealing too many tricks of my clandestine trade, I got into a hotel, shot down at the beach and made a marvellous shot. I won’t reveal my location but a Waikiki sleuth might be able to pick it out based on what is in front of them. Needless to say, the Times editor Tears for Fears (I’m feeling overly cheeky tonight!) over the images as she had a large variety to choose. In an email after the article published, she stated “everyone LOVED the photos.”
That kind of praise makes the hours and time put in completely worth it. Again, it doesn’t take much to sea…err…see things from a different perspective. I just awaken my paradise slumber and look around.
In the early 1990’s, I took a design class with a professor whose name escapes me. He taught 2D Design during my freshman year at UT Austin and I found myself painting, drawing, designing and generally having a wonderful time exploring mediums I had never worked with. The class he taught focused on basic art fundamentals; the mild mannered professor knew his stuff. He once claimed he had famed actress Farrah Fawcett in his class back in the 60s. She was from Texas, you know.
My classmates rebelled against conformity, reality, sexuality, and just about anything to rebel against. Some thought they’d be the next Schnabel, Basquiat, or Haring. Mostly they just wanted to get high. I had a hard time relating as I grew up in conservative San Antonio with a Sergeant father, a Bible-beating mom, and a brother who was a cop. I clearly had no intentions of turning out to be a sculptor, performance artists, or general anarchist. I knew I would be a photographer but drifted in and out of majors my first few months drawing towards the art department for a few classes.
In class, no one really told us we were wrong; but kept encouraging us to create and explore what we might not know. I quickly learned that everything in art is subjective but the fundamentals were the bedrock. In this 2D class, the professor had us do an exercise on a white sheet of paper with ink. As I recall, he gave us no real instructions other than to draw lines on the paper. I took my ink pens and ruler and began to doodle.
I had no formal art education at school or in my household. I drew and colored lots as a child but made nothing extraordinary. We’d go to the McNay and the Whitte Museums often and I was always enamored with the old masters and the shapes of the sculptures and figures on display. I guess I had some informal understanding but nothing that an art professor would notice.
At the end of our exercise, the prof came over and critiqued my piece. I remember so clearly he pointing out my sense of balance, negative and positive space, and weight of design. I just saw them as straight lines. I didn’t understand his words until later when I became a professional photographer and began my own career.
I’ll often wander Waikiki in the late afternoon as the tourists begin heading back to their hotels. As they roam around the sand seemingly astounded by the spectacular sunsets, most drop their guard and I’ll capture some interesting moments. As I made my way around a group of people, I noticed this woman wrapped in a damp sarong standing on a pier. I saw her in my peripheral and pushed my way towards her to capture the moment. I wasn’t sure why I was drawn to her other than I found her attractive and secluded from the hoards of people crowding the area to watch the sunset. I began talking out loud to myself noting the monotone colors, her curves, the horizon, and the bend of her arm as she brushed her wet hair from her shoulder. I fired off maybe six frames before the composition was disturbed by people walking through. It was only when I chimped the image on the back of my Leica did the professor’s words echo in my ears. I saw the “balance, space, negative and positive, and weight of my lines.”
Once I got home, I searched for that ink drawing that I’ve kept with me all these years. I was astounded to see how my experienced camera eye had now been able to see, almost naturally, what I drew so long ago, but couldn’t quite comprehend.
I’ve never professed to be an artist. I’ve often said I xerox what’s in front of me. Nothing more…just pressing the copy button instead of the shutter button. Yet I’m happy to hear the professor’s words echo in my head when I do push it. Those words make me realize I might be more of an artist than I think.
