I’ve recently finished putting together a book about my recent mission trip to Guatemala called The People of Petén. You can see a preview of it on blurb.com. Just click on the link below. Hope you enjoy it.
I’ve recently returned home from Guatemala. My wife and and I were part of a medical mission trip that included two medical doctors, a dentist, and a pharmacist (that would be my wife, Jennie). She was voted MVP of the trip because of all the work and preparation she did to help make the trip a success. I’m proud of her. As for me, well officially I was supposed to be the pharmacy technician and do everything my wife told me to do (I have lots of practice). As it turned out, my aptitude for all things medical falls in the lowest 5 percentile. I have difficulty telling the difference between an antacid and a suppository. Don’t come to me for help.
Therefore, for the most part I was set free to roam among the people and take pictures. That worked out pretty well, huh? I took over 2100 photos. Over the next few weeks (and probably months) I’ll be posting a few of them. Surely, in all those photos I can find a few worth sharing. I’ll also be working on at least one more photo book (and probably more) that I’ll publish through blurb.com. If you haven’t seen my other photo books you can check them out here.
Just to whet your appetite, here’s a couple of previews of what I saw and experienced.
Why am I so attracted to photography? Of what use is it? Or better, what use do I want it to have for me or others? These are just a few of the questions with which I’ve been grappling? The impetus for these questions has come from Tony Luna’s book, How to Grow as a Photographer. The book is really for career photographers who are in the process of examining their career and reinventing themselves. Since I’m not a professional photographer the book doesn’t apply specifically to me. However, Luna has a lot of great things to say about what it takes to be a photographer and what might become of one’s photographic abilities. In fact, much of the book has spoken to me.
I’m obviously drawn to photography and find a great deal of joy in it. Luna encourages photographers to go further, to discover (or rediscover) their passion, to articulate a clear vision and mission. So I’m asking myself, “What do I want my photography to do?” “How do I want it to affect others?” “What is my underlying passion and how can I use this to make a difference with the camera lens?” I’m working on these.
Is my greatest interest landscapes, churches, people, missions, or something else? Do I want my art to bring people joy, make them pay attention to life in new ways, or motivate them to do something like care for the marginalized in our world? Sometimes I feel like my photographic art is all over the place. You’ll notice that I post a lot of different kinds of pictures on this site. Eventually, I hope to narrow my focus–discover how I really want my photography to matter. Feedback from others will be an important part of that. So, let me know which of my photographs touch you most and why. I would love to hear from you.
I bought my first camera in 1976. I think it cost me about $179 ( a great deal of money for a 20-year-old college student 33 years ago). It was a Vivitar SLR and had a couple of lenses with screw on mounts. This meant that every time I wanted to use the telephoto I had to laboriously unscrew one lens and screw on the other. By then I had missed whatever shot I had in mind.
I bought the camera because I was going to Maryland’s Eastern Shore for the summer and wanted to record my memories. My task for the summer was to work with migrant farm workers living in the area. The workers lived in sub-standard housing erected in camps on the individual farms. They worked in the fields from sun-up to sun-down for pennies a bushel. They had no transportation except that provided them by the landowner. They had no medical care and few basic necessities. It was my first introduction to real poverty.
Although I can no longer put my hands on those pictures from three decades ago, I still remember quite vividly the snapshots of the faces–a teenage mother holding her baby on her hip, an old woman sweeping the dirt in front of the cook house in her camp, young muscled men lifting bushels of vegetables on their shoulders, an old man sitting in a torn overstuffed chair discarded from a flea market. Taking those pictures not only captured a moment in time, it allowed the memory to become part of me.
I thought about this first camera and my experiences in Maryland today because I was listening to a CD book by Octavia Butler entitled Kindred. This 1979 classic is a wonderful story about the oppression of slaves in early 19th century Maryland. Most of the story actually takes place just a few miles from Easton, MD where I spent my summer. Butler vividly describes the brutal treatment of slaves that was an accepted part of the culture of that day. She paints word pictures of beatings, inhumane conditions, rape, hard labor in the fields, and the cost of running away (among many other atrocities).
It occurred to me that 150 years after the slavery conditions on the Eastern Shore there were still Blacks, shirtless in the hot sun, who spent their days in back-breaking work. They picked crops for landowners, bending over a 1000 times a day to snatch a tomato or cucumber. Although some may argue that the Blacks I met in 1976 were free and could leave at anytime. The reality was that they had no money, no transportation, and no where to go.
What I saw in 1976 was poverty. I was less aware of the oppression and even slave-like conditions. I haven’t been back to Maryland’s Eastern Shore since 1976, so I can’t comment on the work conditions of the farm labor now. But whether I’m in 1976 Maryland or 2009 Oklahoma, I want to see the injustice that has been part of the human experience since the beginning of time. God forgive me for my blindness. Help me to see.
I’ve been taking pictures of my church recently for a project I’m working on. Last week I spent a morning in the church sanctuary alone snapping shots. I love these kinds of shoots because I can take my time and be as creative as I want. If the picture doesn’t come out as I’ve envisioned, it’s no big deal. I can take a hundred pictures to get one good one. When I show the one good one, everyone thinks I’m a genious.
The other, more important, reason I enjoyed this morning is because it gave me time to feel and experience the wonder of this room. I found myself thinking about the thousands of people who have walked through those doors in the last 100 years. I stood behind the pulpit and thought about the majestic prayers and powerful sermons that have been offered up. I stood at the end of the long aisle and remembered how difficult it was for me as a child to step out of the pew and walk the never ending aisle to profess to the people in my home church my belief in Jesus Christ.
Down this aisle hundreds of people have walked to do the same thing–to let a community of people know that they also believe–to share their desire to join these like-minded people in their pursuit of faith and service–to seek the support and prayers of this faith family for their personal struggles. The aisle in the Baptist tradition is a holy place, for it represents steps of commitment, courage of faith, and seeking of community.
At the singing of our commitment hymn toward the end of each service, those who attend are invited to walk the aisle to share their decision. When they do, their decision is owned by the community. It becomes ours. I often find myself teary-eyed when people step into the aisle and make their way forward for I know it is not done lightly. It is done with trepidation, thought, and hope. I am filled with joy that these people have allowed me to share in the personal faith moments of their lives.
Check out more of my flickr photos on my Flickr page.
