When I look back to the early times of learning photography and working for the newspaper, I am always amazed by the opportunities that were presented to me. Some of those opportunities were the result of the amazing people I was meeting, some from events that challenged me while shaped my thinking. I am very thankful for these early influences to this day.

The Covington Ohio Pumpkin Festival Queen

I sat on the curb waiting. I knew what the newspaper wanted, a single picture of the new Covington Pumpkin Festival Queen and her court. But I would have to wait through the singers, pianists, dancers and baton twirlers before I could get my picture.

It was the time when I had transitioned from shooting just sports, to picking up general assignments. Typically the assignments I was given were the less “glamorous” assignments that the staff photographers gladly passed on. The harvest festival was one of my first general assignments.

In time, the performances concluded and the Queen was announced and it was time for pictures. Though I was inexperienced, I knew that you never get between a proud parent and their kid when there were pictures to be taken. So for my own safety I volunteered to arrange the Queen and her court with the understanding that the parents could get their pictures first and then it would be my turn. When my time came, I took an extra moment to make sure everyone in place and ready. In at that moment I caught the eye of the newly crowned queen. I was not sure what I was expecting, but look of uncanny calmness was not it. The girls in court were understandably a bit giddy and it showed, but the Queen was almost stoice. After long moment I brought my camera to my eye and took the picture.

After packed up my gear I walked to my car and began my drive home. The quiet backroads gave me time to mull over what had happened and why I got lost in that moment.

The first realization was that I actually recognized the Pumpkin Queen from shooting football. She was a cheerleader and I suspected she was also this town’s raining “most popular girl.” But why no pridefulness or vanity in her eyes. Obviously I was still missing something. And then it hit me. What I saw in her eyes was acceptance of the traditions and values of her small town. She was the one everyone would expected to do well in any contest she entered. so it was no surprise she was the Queen.

What had caught me off guard was the grace she exhibited while playing out her her generational role and small town traditions. A stark contrast compared to my wordly teenage view which was that living in small farming communities was akin to being in a witness protection program.

At about this time I got a hard earned clue. While the Queen accepted her role with grace, I was clueless to my own role. I was a young photographer who needed small town events like the Pumpkin Festival to move ahead in my career. Without them I would be sitting at home watching television. Having had the tables flipped on me, all I could do was laugh all the way home. I was just grateful that no cops were around to see me,

From that night forward I let the newspaper know I wanted the rural assignments. As fate would have it, meeting Becher Berry and his wife drove the point home.

The Berries

Mr. Berry was a retired science teacher who lived in the town of Pleasant Hill Ohio. He took pictures of birds that were published in several national magazine.

When I arrived at the Berry’s home I was a bit apprehensive. I was a teenager and my history with teachers, retired or otherwise, was not always stellar. I couldn’t have been more mistaken. In short order I was sitting at the Berry’s kitchen table drinking ice tea and talking photography. To my amazement he had steered the conversation away from his work and onto mine.

Eventually we got back on topic and talked about his work. He shot pictures out his kitchen window of the birds that visited his feeder. He had a modest collection of camera equipment that he made the most of with his photography. He explained how he used his wife’s old purses as camera bags. What? It was at this point that I subtlety pushed the two “just in case” bags full of camera equipment under the table and out of sight.

In the hour I was in the Berry’s home I spent about five minutes of actual taking pictures. But in the decades since, my memory of that time with the Berrys. as one of my favorite experiences that set the stage on how I could establish honest, productive relationships with my subjects.. The Berrys taught me humility (though I’m still not ready to use purses as camera bags) and peaked my interest in small towns culture. The Berry’s unknowingly challenged my silly preconception. It was a gift I have treasured to this day.

“I Just Can’t Take Good Pictures”

Shortly after I began working for the newspaper I was offered a job in a camera store on Saturday mornings passing out the customers processing. Not at all demanding but in time I found I had plenty to learn.

For starters, when customer picked up their processing they generally would take a moment to look at their pictures to see how they turned out. It was the moment of truth that could not wait till they got home.

The evaluation of the pictures would lead to the creation of two piles of prints. One pile was for the “keeper” and the other was for the “rejects”. The size of the two piles would often reflect how well the pictures had turning out. While a small reject pile was good, a small keeper pile could be quite disappointing. It was then I would hear: “I just can’t take good pictures.” The first few time I heard this assertion I found it jagging. It seemed to attribute bad pictures to a lack of the special creative predisposition that was needed for taking good pictures. Causes could range from a critical missing gene to fluoridated water.

Though I seriously doubted these theories, there were several aspects of the two pile review system that I questioned. On one hand I saw a rush to judgement based on a quick scan of the pictures. The reject pictures were so disturbing that many customer had me throw them away while still in the store. And seldom are pictures one hundred percent good or one hundred percent bad. Both piles offered opportunities for learning with a closer inspection. Not taking Missing a learning opportunity leads to repeating the same mistakes over and over which in film days meant wasting lots of money.

The final piece of the puzzle took time for me to realize and when I did it had more to do with golf than picture taking.

I always had a love-hate relationship with golf which I played for quite some time. I was an average golfer if graded on a curve. But if I was going to be good or better golfer I would have to put in a great deal of time and effort. And according to the equipment manufactures, I also needed the latest super clubs to really play golf at a high level. But I realized that enjoying golf while enjoying the company of friends was really my goal. The key is balancing goals with expectations.

The person that thinks they can’t take good pictures is right if their expectations are unrealistically high for their present skill level. So the question is really whether the picture taker wants to spend and time and effort to improve their photography to sink with their expectations. Though I have no way of knowing, I suspect the “I can’t take good pictures” person just might a decisioned that has already ben made. And that is fine.