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MJ: You mentioned that you found yourself making the same “Martin Sundberg” images with the video camera that you would have with a still camera. What do those look like and how do you recognize them as your signature look?
MS: This first foray into video felt like a seamless transition from shooting photography, and a lot of that can be attributed to the Canon 5D Mark II. It was amazing to use the tools I’ve always used, in terms of the feel and function of a still camera, and do this entirely different thing with it. For me, this really facilitated a consistency in my vision. In my still photography, I try to use the elements of the moment, exploiting light and weather whenever possible, to add to the photograph. I also am often trying to capture motion and distill that feeling into a photograph.
When it came time to post some teaser videos on my blog, I went to pull some frame grabs to situate next to the videos, and that was when I realized I had shot the video footage in the same way. This is an intriguing revelation, and I’m excited by the idea of moving between the two mediums for a client, creating both stills and video for a campaign. This also reminded me that the creative process is really a series of choices. Planning sometimes precedes these choices, but very often it’s a matter of simply reacting to what’s in front of the camera at that moment.
I now understand photography and video as having a more synergistic relationship. When I bring elements together that I’m passionate about — light, water, inspiring people, and evocative environments — I tend to act in a way that defines and supports the style that I’ve developed through many, many experiences with the camera at my eye. Being facile with both mediums is just another way to keep exercising, challenging, and honing the process of seeing and creating images.
MJ: What did you learn from this shoot and what advice would you give to photographers going out on their first video shoot?
MS: When the project concluded and we all went back to our respective parts of the country, I realized how much I love the still image. I continue to be excited about the outcome of this project, but I was honestly shocked to discover that I didn’t have a body of still images after all of that effort. Of course, I knew I logically hadn’t been making still pictures, but I did feel a pang of regret for not having a second body of still work. No prints, no stock, no licensing usage for my clients.
A week after the shoot, I was fielding calls from magazines specifically interested in the triathlete project and I have almost nothing to offer them. Typically, after a personal shoot like this, I would be able to field those requests. With that in mind, I’ll definitely try and schedule a couple of days for still photography on my next personal video assignment. And in the meantime, I’ll begin exploring the portals that exist for distributing video pieces in similar ways.
I would advise anyone moving into video to assemble a good team. For me, I like to have the flexibility to be quick and nimble with my team, so for this type of project, I’d make sure to include an assistant, a stylist, a sound person, an editor, and the models. That would be a bare-bones assembly. You don’t need an army, just a few enthusiastic and interested people. I love the collaborative process because when you get a few good people together, each with his or her own expertise, it can be like igniting a haystack of ideas.
The next place this special publishing model I’d developed came into play, and really the place it came into full force, was Bristol Bay in Southwest Alaska. In 1998 there was no mine proposed, no oil proposed, just this huge wild area called Southwest Alaska that is larger than the state of Washington. And it’s the habitat for the richest, most productive salmon fishery in the history of the world, Bristol Bay. And I’m on the board of the Alaska Conservation Foundation (ACF). I’ve been there for seven years. We’re making a big difference. Having a lot of victories. I’m working as a board member, I’m not pushing myself as a photographer, but I’m offering my advice about media.
And the retiring board director says to me, have you ever been out to Southwest Alaska? And I haven’t, so he and his friend, who’s a writer from Wyoming and also an expert fly fisherman, take me out there for a 7-day fly around. And his position as a fisherman is, this is a goldmine for fishermen and conservation, and he thinks I should bring it to ACF, the group I’m on the board of. He is leaving ACF but thinks the Bristol Bay area is going to become an issue in terms of developers wanting it. And I think it sounds like a great idea, and I’m not working on a project, and I’m about to retire from the board.
So I start writing my grants. And I write in the grant that I’ll do a book and it will be about this fishery and its protection, and in funding the grant they can guarantee that 5,000 at-cost copies will be available for the ACF to use in direct mail campaigns to bring more money in. I weave in the grassroots, the foundation strategy, my book strategy, and this advocacy work you can do with direct mail. It was the maturity of all my previous projects coming together. And we went out with that grant, and everyone we showed it to was in. We brought in several smaller family foundations and we brought in one very large foundation, the Turner Foundation. Then, when I was nearly on press with the first book, Rivers of Life, I also noticed I had this extraordinary amount of material specifically about Wood Tikchik Park, which is more than one-third of the water shed. It is the largest state park in Alaska — it’s huge at over a million and a half acres. Just one fishing lodge and everything else wild park.
I talked to one of my friends who was head of department of natural resources for the state, and he said, please do a book on this park and talk about all the inholdings that are at risk. An inholding is an amount of land that was given to a Native American tribal holder as part of his native claims stake when the lands transferred between natives and park. And every person got to extract a certain amount of acreage, I think in 60-acre squares. So they’re all patchworked through these wild lands. And the presumption was the natives would continue to treat them as they had for 3,000 years. But the reality was that parents would be saving them for their kids who would grow up, go to college, and never want to come back to the village, so the traditional values of that land would erode. The parents would look at it and think, well we can sell this to a white guy who wants to build a fishing lodge and we will become millionaires. Among the rest of us there was this feeling of, oh my god, don’t let this happen to these habitats. So with the first book already on press, I began working on a second book with another author, and we wrote the second book directed at these issues of inholdings. So one book was, don’t let this resource be developed by offshore oil and gas or on-shore anything. And the second was, don’t let this land be fragmented by inholdings. Please work with the conservancies and the tribes to see that it all goes into parkland protection.
We took those two books as a set and we did a very substantial mailing and a traveling exhibit. Talk about all these things happening blindly but at the right moment. At the time that we did the mailing, Canada announced plans for Pebble Mine, the largest open-pit gold and copper cyanide-leach mine in the history of the world right in the middle of the biggest part of the fishery. And of course the state leased it. So here’s the two books sitting there and just being mailed and the show’s just going up and they announce the proposal for the Pebble Mine. And then Bush gets Ted Stevens, the Alaska senator now indicted for felony, to pull Bristol Bay off of the no-drill oil moratorium, which it had been on for 18 years, and announced leasing through the Department of the Interior. So immediately the books had more weight.
Among many things that happened because of the momentum the mailing created was a $10 million, three-year grant from the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation flowing to the conservancies in southwest Alaska to purchase and buy into the inholdings when the native villages were willing to strike deals over conservation easements. A 21,000-parcel deal was struck recently with eight or ten very significant tribal elders, which sent out shockwaves in the native community because they don’t really embrace white legal systems. So by those native elders signing on, it has a huge impact at other levels in other tribes. What they did was sell the rights to commercially develop the land. They do not give up their right to own the land. The land is put into an easement that is managed by a conservancy, and the natives can go and use the land any time they want to fish or hunt, but not for commercial development. Even if they sell it, it remains in easement. So it’s a way of putting land into wild status in perpetuity.
This project was where everything came together in its most mature form, with the Bristol Bay and Wood Tikchik books, the show, and the pre-deemed funding to buy out a portion of the run. The picture books themselves were commercially viable; Aperture sold them in the market. But I would say we got rid of just as many of them in the community by doing direct mail and target-specific sales at lectures and exhibitions. The exhibition has triggered a lot … we took it to all the major cities in Alaska. We triggered discussions between the communities and the mining representatives from Pebble Mine. We’ve had the exhibition go to Washington D.C. as a bi-partisan request from Newt Gingrich and Mark Udall.
In my opinion, the reason some of the projects were so much more successful is, first of all, I enjoy the theater of the advocate role. I’ll go to Washington and lobby directly and use personality. This is an age where cult of personality plays well. You know, James Audubon was an American sophisticate. An intellectual, a researcher. But when he went to England with his drawings of the America birds, he had this fabulous fringe leather suit made for himself and he walked around with his musket. So it’s been theater for a long time. And I’m perfectly happy to play the “outdoor adventurer” Robert Ketchum and show up at Barbara Boxer’s office, especially now that she’s head of the Environment Committee, and ask her to please consider being a co-sponsor to John Kerry’s Bristol Bay Marine Reserve Act. And of course she’s seen the book and all that.
I think if I have had an impact in the book market, it has been to find a way to make the book more useful from an advocate point of view. Perhaps that is a corruption of the coffee table tradition, but so be it, it makes for a much more useful and purposeful publication. I feel like, if these concepts were somehow a secret of mine all these years, they shouldn’t have been, and I didn’t intend it that way. I’m happy to have other photographers think about how to use it. Because a lot of them get frustrated. They get nice books published, they get nice conservation groups all lined up. But then they have a subtle subject like, say, a book on grass prairie, and it doesn’t have a national audience, and it doesn’t really get out there. So it sits and languishes on bookshelves and it gets remaindered. That won’t change anything!
I recently attended a presentation by a young photojournalist of her photo story on debutante society. Looking at her images, it was obvious she had established an extraordinary trust relationship with her subjects, resulting in a compelling body of work. About half way through the presentation, a few subtle, chiding remarks about the debutantes began to surface from the audience. Soon after, a quiet solidarity against the culture depicted in the pictures took hold, inevitably influencing the way the photos were viewed.
Now the audience was utilizing the presented images, a window to another world, to pass judgment en masse on the people in the photographs. The presenter became noticeably uncomfortable, undoubtedly because the trust relationship that she earned to get access to the debutante world suddenly seemed exploitative — antithetical to journalists sensibilities. Directly admonishing an audience always seems dangerous, like smoking a cigarette while filling the gas tank of your car. And it feels even riskier when you’re coming up through the ranks trying to build your career. Ultimately the photographer did bravely address the audience’s disdain in her comments — a difficult but admirable decision.
There is no more lonely place in the world than the stage. Audiences are amorphous, intimidating beings that are difficult to predict. When they adopt a mood that is contrary to the perspective you’re trying to present, it’s all too easy to fall into league with the prevailing opinion. DO NOT. Fight the good fight and defend your position. That’s more easily written than practiced, but having publicly hung myself to twist in the wind more than once, I don’t regret a single time that I opposed the people to whom I was speaking.
About six months ago I was asked by the Aperture Foundation to defend my not-so-popular position on piracy. Half the audience in the full auditorium was positively hostile towards me. I could feel myself shrinking in fear as the critical voices got more vociferous and the “yas” and “that’s rights” became more numerous. The only reason I was able to hold my ground during the hail storm of harshness is because I decided what my opinion was way before I took the stage.
It also helps to remember, audiences are incredibly reactive and short sighted. Think of how many movies you’ve seen that you initially thought were crap, only to realize you liked them after pondering them for a few days. A negative reaction from an audience is not a death knell for your career, it’s just a story to tell people after a few months have passed. Understanding who you are and what you believe before you go on stage is imperative. Because there is no worse time to sort out your philosophy than when you’re standing under the spotlight, facing an angry mob.
Carmen Suen: How did you get started in photography?
Harry Benson: That was a long time ago. When I was a teenager, I felt like being a photographer was my only hope. I have always been interested in photography. And, I was never very good at academics. I thought, I could be a professional soccer player, or I could be a professional photographer. I played a few soccer games, and thought I wasn’t that great. When I was 21 or 22, I started doing wedding photography at local churches. It was at that time that I started to get more serious about photography. Eventually, I got a job at the Daily Express.
To me, photography is honest and straightforward. As a photographer, all you need to do is to take good pictures. If you work hard, and take the opportunities in front of you, you will succeed. There are, of course, obstacles. While my friends were going out for a drink, I was working. I seldom got to celebrate Christmas and New Year like most people do. I celebrate these holidays with my family in a different way. I don’t see it as a sacrifice; I see it as a privilege. It’s very lucky to be able to do what makes you happy.
CS: What was your first “big job”?
HB: Well, there was not really any one “big job.” But I think I have some favorite pictures — those I took during my 2-week trip with the Beatles in February 1964. I love those pictures because they are happy pictures.
That was a very special trip for me. I never wanted to be a rock photographer. But then I got this opportunity to travel with one of the most important groups in rock history. Because it was a newspaper assignment, I had to send pictures back to London every day. I had to consistently bring back good photographs. I needed to stay as creative and good as I could be. That was not easy, but I did it.
CS: Do you have any advice for young photographers?
HB: Always go to the smallest denominator, and don’t get carried away. Look for a job in a local newspaper, not a big city paper. Local newspapers pay for your mistakes. If you can take a great picture of a small town mayor, you can take a great picture of a president.
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