Dave White Photographer

We were in Washington, DC for the day on an editorial assignment for a college magazine. The challenge: hit four locations around the capital and shoot a pile of alumni portraits. We were taking public transportation - the Metro - and taxi’s here and there. No assistant. Just the editor and myself. Carting a bunch of lighting equipment around was not an option.

We met some interesting and fun folks. From professors to politicians. Not much time with each person and no scouting prior to arriving on the locations. It was fun. I pretty much had to show up, give it the old “Hey, how you doin?” and pick a spot for a picture. You could call it pre-visualization on the fly.

I had a camera system in a backpack and a small battery strobe for lighting in a messenger bag. It was a task of finding suitable locations where I could blend available light for the general scene and pop the strobe to shape the light on faces.

I used a small softbox for a few shots and even bounced the strobe off the granite walls of the Russell Senate office building. And, oh yeah, kinda got yelled at by a severe looking Capital Police officer for simply standing in one spot and giving the appearance of being willing to point my camera in the wrong direction. Truth is, I was trying to work out an idea in my head and was drawing one of those “um, dah” mental blanks. Life is all about timing. Even bad timing. But we had a laugh and got on with our whirlwind day.

I am always inspired when I see someone take a great idea and make it work. Of course, these things are always best when done with style, good taste and strong individual indentity. Such is the work of my friend Evon, and her company cleverscene. With her deft touch, she cleverly upcycles mens suit jackets into ladies handbags. Blue jeans become messenger bags. Very cool. Very clever. Nice work, Evon.

Cleverscene Power Suit bag

Fun with guns. Yup, it has been a theme with me for a long time. Not quite like this, though.

We needed a dramatic shot for a trade show and poster. The subject, Max Michel, is a world champion shooter, Army training officer and star member of the US Army shooting team. I’ll be honest and admit, I was expecting some hard ass ego maniac. Of course, I was wrong. Max was an absolute gentleman. Polite, engaging, humble and professional. And man, this guy can shoot.

We kept Max in constant motion across the range. He would fire two shots on each target, never stopping his travel. Obviously, I was positioned in front of Max and he was firing over the camera. I wanted to see his face and the muzzle of the gun. Kind of a trust-the-guy situation. The guy just kept putting bullets into the same hole on each target. Told ya’ he was good.

For the second shot Max took a factory gun right out of the box and loaded up. He suggested we try to get a photo of the empty brass flying out of the gun while he was shooting. The plan was for him to fire a burst of five rounds at a time. So I thought I would delay a moment and then trip the shutter as he got started. Um, well, that didn’t work. Max squeezed off the first five rounds faster than I would have thought anyone could fire two!

Max :”I didn’t see the strobes fire.”

Me: “That’s ’cause I just stood here like an idiot and didn’t take a picture. Can we try that again.”

We ended up with this shot. That orange glow of powder burning in the barrel, you can’t plan that.

Today we all converged once again at Elm St. The epicenter of my family for, well, seems like forever. This is the home where my mother was raised by her grandmother. It’s simply been known as “the house” for a very long time.

The wood stove sat cold and the doors were mostly open. It’s a gray November day with a raw wind blowing. The weather is appropriate for this somber day. We were nearly done moving my parents belongings out. As time claims all, the time has arrived for them to downsize and simplify. The old house and its big barn has become too much of a burden and they have grudgingly, yet wisely decided to downsize.

I suspect their tenure of nearly 60 years has passed in a wink. Four generations were represented this weekend. As usual the tribe was rowdy, bitching, barking, laughing and joking throughout the work. The Old-Timers were just as full of vigor as the grandchildren. Now well into their eighties, they have slowed some. But not really that much. There was work to be done. Everything was handled as just another day.

It’s been a long process of selling and buying. Organizing, sorting, reminiscing and the painful decisions of stuff to keep and what to part with. So many days and weekends of work for the past few months.

I hung out ’til everybody else was gone. Just one photo before we left. I have only pulled the camera out a few times over the last few months at Elm Street. Frankly, I didn’t want to think about it that much. But I wanted to make this photo today. No lights or gimmicks. Nothing fancy. Just mom and dad standing quietly in front of the house. Simple, humble and stoic. It is their photo, not really mine. I just snapped the shutter.

I think it’s easier to photograph alpha CEO’s and prison guards than your own parents. How can you really succeed? Or, for that matter, how can you really fail? So I chose to make a document rather than a statement. Keep it simple. Safe ground. Here’s a few more that I shot earlier in the process.

The era has now passed. On Tuesday the papers will be signed. The house will be empty and we’ll move their stuff into a different, smaller house. Life simplified. Burden reduced. Time has passed on the family legacy of Elm Street.

I was on a shoot at a prison last week. A real deal max security type place. We were there to photograph the warden for a magazine cover. Nice guy. He agreed to a classic looking cell block location. So I ended up lugging strobe cases and all that featherweight photo gear down one flight and then up three more flights of stairs. We wandered across the yard under the stares of all those jump-suited happy-go-lucky residents and into halls of correction.

No doubt, my request had placed the warden in an uncomfortable position. It’s not in his best interest to draw attention to himself and a photoshoot certainly placed him in such a situation. But he was good natured, cordial and very cooperative. The shoot went well.

I was packing up my gear and the corrections officer shown in the photo here was chatting with us while keeping a close eye on the “block”. There were prisoners just down the hall. When I looked up again, he was just standing there in this scene. Had to shoot that. He agreed and I snapped on a favorite lens - 90mm tilt shift - jazzed the ISO a few clicks and came home with a winner.

It’s a hard looking image and he comes across as a hard-ass SOB in the shot. Maybe he is, but he was just a nice friendly guy in my book. Polite, low key and friendly. But not according to the camera.

Man, you gotta be careful with the power of that little digital machine. This is a straight shot. I did not pose him with any intent create an unfair response. I simply asked him to “look at me right through the lens.” It was one of those thank-you moments where I feel like someone gave me a gift - the image is the reward.

About that trip to Montana last month. Well, I kept the wheels moving pretty good. After all, you only get so much time in Play Land. Other than visiting the colony of my Hutterite friends, I scooped up College Boy and we went fishing on the Madison a couple of times and we made a terrific hike up high into a small lake for some more fishing. Pretty typical of a week in Montana for me.

Wouldn’t ya know, College Boy has to write about it in his blog for the college. http://msuadmissions1.blogspot.com/ Well, I guess I showed him.

I was in Montana recently, my old stomping grounds, visiting my son at college in Bozeman. So we headed off one afternoon to visit some old Hutterite friends.

I’ve been visiting and photographing here for a number of years

and some truly wonderful friendships have evolved. Gaining trust and permission to photograph at the colony has been a rewarding privilege.

The children on the colonies are curious, happy and friendly.

We did a lot of laughing. But I really was not sure if they were laughing with me or at me. No matter, we had a lot of fun.

Of course, the kids all wanted to look at the images. When I first began visiting and photographing at the colony I was pulling Polaroids off a Hasselblad. Boy, that was “back in the day.”

The twins. I think they were three the first time I met them. The camera loves them.

This is a test for my first post. Just trying to learn the software.