www.jimurquhart.com or www.straylighteffect.com

Moving to a new site ... My Own! Blogger you were a friend, but it is time to say goodbye.

Trent Nelson was so awesome in setting me up with my own spankin’ new website. My site can be found atwww.jimurquhart.com orwww.straylighteffect.com I am still building it, cleaning up formatting problems and adding content. Most of the content on it is about one and half to two years old. I am working from the past to present. And the cool part, the front page will change as I add more content and there is even more content beyond what is in thumbnail form. Just look under the catagories. Stop by daily if you want to see what is being added. Trent, thank you once again!

www.jimurquhart.com or www.straylighteffect.com

Moving to a new site ... My Own! Blogger you were a friend, but it is time to say goodbye.

Trent Nelson was so awesome in setting me up with my own spankin’ new website. My site can be found at www.jimurquhart.com or www.straylighteffect.com I am still building it, cleaning up formatting problems and adding content. Most of the content on it is about one and half to two years old. I am working from the past to present. And the cool part, the front page will change as I add more content and there is even more content beyond what is in thumbnail form. Just look under the catagories. Stop by daily if you want to see what is being added. Trent, thank you once again!

PS. It has a blog.

Firestorm

Last Thursday I was enjoying a day off but I was also keeping an eye on the weather. The forecast was for a very windy and hot day. Humidity levels had dropped to almost nothing and I knew there was a real possibility wildfires could make a run that day. But I was off, so I wasn't too worried. As I check out the news in the morning I learned several small fire had started up over night that were sparked by dry-lightning strikes. But once again I was off so I went about my day.

I went to visit a friend and check out his remodel after a fire gutted a portion of his home. As I looked out across the valley from Carl's home I could see smoke rising from the mountains near the west desert.

But I left to run some errands and head home for a bit. I was getting ready to go see my mom and to close with Dayna the next day on the purchase of our home. We also had plans to relax that night and maybe see a movie or go do a little drinking. Nothing major. But for some reason I went to go check that all my wildfire protection gear (Nomex flame retardant suit, hard hat, leather boots, hard hat, leather gloves and survival fire shelter) was in my car.

Just as I finished my editor called.

He noted he knew I was off, but said he needed my help and that a whole series of wildfires had broken out in the west desert in the Skull Valley area and there were sketchy reports that a ranch had been over run by flames.

Within a couple minutes I was out the door fully suited up and working the phones. I was tracking down who my reporter was and also talking to other reporters about how to get out of town. Earlier in the day, a Utah Highway patrolman shot and killed a fleeing suspect on Interstate 80 near the Salt Lake and Tooele county line and the interstate was closed in the direction I was going and road construction was impacting another route. With the help of two reporters I found a way west.

I was told to meet up with Bureau of Land Management folk at mile marker 77 where the exit to skull valley is and begin working there. As I raced across the interstate the day turned to night at mile marker 88 as a column of smoke and ash engulfed the interstate. My Subaru was being buffeted about by winds blowing about 50 MPH from the south and I knew this was going to get interesting.

Once at mile marker 77 I was greeted by two highway patrol vehicles blocking highway 196 into Skull Valley. Shit! Shit! Shit!

The road been closed because visibility had dropped to about nothing as a thick layer of smoke was being blown right at us from the fire that had grown from 10 acres a couple hours ago to more than 22,000 acres and run about 15 miles north to where I was.

It was so frustrating, you knew the fire was right there, but you couldn't see it or anything because of the driving winds and the road block. This route was about the only road into the desert valley. Once I stepped out of my car, I was sandblasted by blowing pebbles and ash.

After sitting there frustrated for about an hour while trying to figure out how my reporter and I were going to cover this a BLM employee offered to try to get us past the road block and closer to the fire. However, we were quickly turned around when it was deemed too dangerous. The wind and smoke made seeing anything impossible.

However, later this same BLM employee made it possible to get to the northeast portion of the Stansbury mountains to get some pics of the leading edge of the fire.

Once there, I was able to get a few frames of firefighters getting ready to work that area as deadline was approaching. I made my photographs and edited and transmitted from on site and the pics made the front page.

Not bad for a day off.

The next day the winds were calmer and I was able go out and make a few more pictures, but nothing of much consequence.

We closed on our house and now I am beginning about seven weeks of desk duty. I am filling in for our deputy director of photography as he takes paternity. Just as fire season makes it late start for the year, I am tied to a desk. I guess it could be much worse though.

Finally taking a moment

Waves crash over sea lions at Sea Lion Cave in Oregon
Hiking with Dayna through the forest on the Oregon Coast
So it's been a couple weeks since Dayna and I returned from our epic road trip. We covered 3,413 miles and seven states ... and I now am just able to sit down and take a look at what I have shot. It was an awesome trip. I have never taken a two week vacation before, nor have I really had the desire to. But then Dayna comes into my life and shows me there is so much more to life than just meeting deadlines. And our trip was just that, an experience in just letting go. There were only three goals on the trip. Survive the family reunion in Wyoming, mail off Dayna's thesis paper to complete her third master's degree and make it to the Oregon Coast. The lack of an agenda was really the vehicle by which we had the greatest time.

We survived the reunion with the help of my sister Nicole and her partner Leslie. We mailed the thesis paper off. Dayna aced it and now has a third master's degree. And not only did we make it the Oregon Coast, we camped, we hiked, we biked, we drank, we played like little kids, we visited seven states, we went whale watching ( I puked off the side of a boat) we had a riot in San Francisco and I could go on forever. Now our goal is to get through the next few weeks. We need to get ready for a season on the mountain this winter (thank something that the evil that is summer will soon be coming to an end), finish our wedding planning and get ready for the honeymoon in Maui, Hawaii.
The ocean and Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach, Oregon
Shop keeper selling some fish type thing in Chinatown in San Francisco

Street Scene in Chinatown in San Franciso

An update from the road ... after nearly 3,000 miles

Golden Gate Bridge in the fog ... we had to trespass into a construction site to get this view. It was well worth it.
Dayna at the Sea Lion Caves in Oregon
A wave sneaks up on Dayna. The water is freezing!
Gray whale we sighted on a whale watching trip off the coast of Newport, Oregon.
Pedro the Mule (Subaru Baja) with our kick ass teardrop trailer at the cabin in Wyoming.
So it is late Sunday night and Dayna and I have found ourselves in San Francisco.

We hit the road almost two weeks ago and have seen so many beautiful places since we departed the Utah Wasatch Front. We have been traveling with our tear-drop trailer for nearly 3,000 miles so far and camping where ever suits us. In the last two weeks we have been to a family reunion at the family cabin in Wyoming, made record time across Idaho, made a quick stop in Washington state, camped, biked, whale watched and hiked on the Oregon coast and now we are in California getting rested up for an invasion of San Francisco. I have shot nearly five gigs of pics on this trip and I will be updating with a ton of pics when we return to Utah.

Got nailed - golf tee shot gone bad

Last week I was assigned to go out of town with three sports reporters for an overnight trip about golf. I really really really hate golf! So when I was told we were going to spend the the night in Montpelier, Idaho and spend the next day following the trio as they golfed four courses in four different states ( Idaho, Wyoming, Utah and Nevada) in one day ... I wasn't exactly impressed. But I have a job, what more can I ask for. I got this little gem of video as we were golfing at Purple Sage golf course in Evanston, Wyoming. I looked up just in time and was able to move just a bit to avoid a direct hit. I still took a fair shot to my calf.

The light was beautiful and she said yes.

So it is late Monday night and I have found myself online looking for venues for my upcoming wedding. Yes, that is right, I am now engaged and in the process of getting ready to get married.

Last Thursday, May 21, 2009, Dayna, the love of my life and my best friend said, "Yes!"

Dayna and I had been talking about marriage for awhile. It came naturally. She really is the best experience that has ever happened to me. Since she came into my life I have found what it is really like to experience true happiness. She has accepted me for who I am with all my faults and I have never been so inspired to explore the world and all it's love as I am now that she is here. When I catch a glimpse of her beautiful blue eyes I see beauty and hope reflected in the morning sunrise.

In my life I have missed the opportunity she has now presented me with. But there was always a reason deep inside that kept me from taking the step off the edge before. Then she comes into my life and shows me the possibility of true love and in my heart I know she is the one. She is why I have been struggling and pushing on. It was to find her and her love. So with that said, I had no other option but to be loved and to love.

I had originally planned to ask for her hand while we were on vacation in July on our tour of the west. But after she took care of me when I was so sick a couple weeks ago I realized I needed to do this now.

We had originally planned to have a portrait shot by my co-worker and friend Scott Sommerdorf in the weeks leading up to mother's day as a gift to the moms but I was so sick and covered in hives from the allergic prescription drug reaction (see this post) the morning of the shoot we had to cancel it.

So with that in mind I spoke to Scott and we scheduled another shoot for last Thursday. I later called Scott and upped the importance of the shoot and explained he was going to witness a proposal. He was in. This was going to provide the cover story.

I purchased the ring on Monday night and picked it up Wednesday morning and immediately went to her dad's house and then her mom's house to ask for permission to marry their only daughter. They both said yes and told me that Dayna had told them she was pretty sure I was going to propose on our vacation in July. This meant she had not caught on to what the portrait shoot the next day was really about.

My friend Jim "Shorty" Patrick wanted in on the action and I needed him there. I wanted the event video taped for her to have forever. So with that, he was going to join us on the trail to Ensign Peak overlooking the valley with the story he was coming along to help pack extra flashes for Scott to light the shoot with. Luckily Dayna had no clue what was really in the pack Shorty was carrying. In it I had placed a bottle of Champagne on ice, a video camera and the ring. I placed the ring in there so she wouldn't detect the box on me while we were hiking up.

We met Scott and Shorty near the state capitol before the shoot and then they followed Dayna and I up to the trail head. When we met, I handed Shorty the bag and said, "here are the flashes," and Shorty sold it by complaining about having to pack them up the trail.

On the way up to the trail Scott pocketed the ring knowing he is going to be in the best position during the photo shoot to hand it off to me without her knowing.

We begin hiking the trail and find a good view to shoot the photos at and all begins as planned. Scott begins shooting portraits of us and we have a great view to enjoy. After a few minutes he approaches us and repositions us for the next set of shots. At this point, he places the ring right behind Dayna where she can't see it and I grab it without her knowing.

We change positions again to an area where she can be standing and I can kneel when the moment is right. At his point I begin talking about my dog Gizmo and how much he would have enjoyed the trail and how he should be in the photos and how we should have brought him along. However, "Gizmo" was the code word that Shorty, Scott and I discussed would be the cue that I was about to propose and to be ready for it. I talk about my awesome dog Gizmo all the time and there was no way no one would have known what we were really talking about.

The moment was right, the light was perfect and there she was. She was there to be with me in that moment and she loves me and I love her.

My nerves are so wound up I began to shake almost uncontrollably. She is watching me and ask, "are you ok?" She can see I am really nervous about something and is worried about me. At that moment I took her hands and knelt on one knee. I speak of how much I love her and explain to her that she is the most beautiful light in this life I have ever witnessed.

In the end I ask her to marry me and without hesitation she said yes. At that moment I became the luckiest and most successful man in the world. I had found the love of my life. She is the most beautiful, most intelligent, most loving and caring woman in the world and she loves me with all her heart.

We linger and enjoy the view for awhile. Then the four of us enjoy the whole bottle of champagne and I get to enjoy the love of my life in the light of the setting sun.

I found the love my life. She loves me and she said yes.

Utah Grand Prix American Le Mans

The start of the Utah Grand Prix American Le Mans series race

Yesterday I covered the Utah Grand Prix American Le Mans series race at Miller Motorsports Park in Tooele, Utah. It was fun and very challenging. This was the second time I have covered the event and was it was just as fun as the first.

This is a completely different style of racing than most Americans may be accustomed to.

Where most racing here is based on covering a certain distance in the shortest amount of time like the Daytona 500; 500 laps with no time restrictions, an American Le Mans race is about covering the most distance in a set time period; X laps covered in 2 hours and 45 minutes. Plus there are a lot of left AND right hand turns, go figure.

Also, there are four different classes of cars on the track at the same time which makes for some interesting situations during the race.

But one of the biggest differences is the types of cars. Porches, Acuras, Ferraris and the like. As it was explained to me by Jeff Holms of Gil de Ferran Motorsports (Gil de Ferran is a legendary former Indy car racer who won the Indy 500 and is now an owner/driver in the Le Mans series) there is huge difference in technology in the cars. He explained that a Nascar race car is typically valued at $200,000, and an Indy car is valued at about $500,000 but a top class Le Mans car is valued at well over $1 million.

Even the types of sponsorships are different. In Nascar you may see teams sponsored by WalMart or Budweiser beer where in the Le Mans you see Nordstroms and Patron.

Robertson Racing LLC's Ford GT MK 7 rounds a corner

Lowe's Fernandez Racing's Acura ARX-01b
de Ferran Motorsports' Simon Pagenaud, left, celebrates with driver and team-owner Gil de Ferran after winning the Utah Grand Prix American Le Mans race Sunday, May 17, 2009 at Miller Motorsports Park in Tooele, Utah.
To those considering covering the event next year I would highly recommend getting there early. Even if it is to get table space to work at in the photographers work room. The local press like myself make up a very small portion of the race photographers on the day of the event. Many are seasoned professionals who travel the world covering motor sports and really know what they are doing. Many be a little salty to the local press. Lets face it, these guys make their living traveling the circuit and we local guys just come out only so often. But if you can engage in a conversation with one, listen carefully to everything they are saying. They really understand the sport inside and out and know how to create story telling images.

Also, although it is uncomfortable and sweaty as hell, get there early enough to get a fire suit. You can shoot the outer perimeter of the track without a suit, but if you want to get into the pits and really get in close to the action, taking the time to get there early enough to get a suit and its associated uncomfortableness is worth it. Plus, there are only so many shots of cars screaming past you can shoot on the track. And the chances of you being in position for the one wreck on a winding 3 mile course is about slim to none. You can do what I did and throw the suit in your pack while hiking the track and get it on when you get to the pits. At least in the pits you have a chance to add a little variety to your photo report.
The crew Robertson Racing LLC races to service their Ford GT MK 7 during a pit stop.

Corsa Motorsports' Ginetta-Zytek 09HS driven by Johnny Mowlem races out of the pits
Also be ready to do some hiking around the three mile course. There were two photographer shuttles running with a goal of being able to pick you up every 20 minutes. But on race day it is more like 40 minutes. I think that has to do with all the photographers and the fact the shuttles have to traverse through the paddock where there are a ton of spectators milling about.

I ended up walking about 2/3 of the course with a camera and 400mm f2.8 lens over one shoulder, a hip pack with water and assorted gear and a camera with a 70-200 on the other shoulder.

I am still recovering from a allergic reaction to prescription drugs ( see prior entry here) and went into the day at about 70 percent of my normal strength. Well, after covering the race Sunday and state track and MLS soccer the Saturday night before the race, I am beat up and have grape fruit swollen knees and my shoulders have swollen up like they have oranges stuffed under the skin. I am taking the day off today to recover (Naproxen, the anti-inflammatory of the gods) but over all I am getting healthier and stronger and imagine I will be up to full speed in a day. It was just a tough physical weekend.
Deseret News photographer and friend Jeff Allred, left, and myself hanging out on the turn one photo stand prior to the start of the race.
My girlfriend Dayna getting a moderate sunburn with her dad while making their way through the paddock looking at cars.

Also, water and sun-screen. Pretty self explanatory. However my girlfriend came out to watch the races with her dad and forgot the sun-screen. When I got home I found her battling a moderate sunburn and a mild case of heat stroke.

Over all I really like covering this style of racing and look forward to more of it in the future.

Art or Environmental Vandalism

The view from the north shore of Great Salt Lake
Recently I spent two days working a story about Utah's west desert. It was a great trip where travel writer Tom Wharton and myself traveled over 500 miles on dirt roads from Tooele, Utah, west across the Pony Express trail skirting the southern end of the Dugway Proving grounds to West Wendover, Nevada, then driving north along the western shore of the Great Salt Lake and cutting across the barren north shore of lake via the old Trans-continental railway back to Wasatch Front. I produced a multimedia project on the trip that can be found HERE.

Clouds reflected in the Spiral Jetty
The Spiral Jetty
But once out there and exploring I came to question the value of some of the "art" that has been installed in the desert.

The Tree of Utah along Interstate 80 is a mammoth nearly 90-foot-tall installation created by Swedish artist Karl Momen in the 1980's. It is said that Momen was inspired to create the piece in the west desert by "Vastness and relative emptiness" of the surrounding environment.

Then there are the Sun Tunnels near the ghost town of Lucin, Utah, created by Massachusetts artist Nancy Holt. The tunnels consist of four concrete pipes that are 18-feet-long and nine-feet in diameter arranged in a 86-foot wide X. The tunnels and the holes cut in their sides mark the sun's solstices, equinoxes and interact with the stars in the night sky.

And there's the Spiral Jetty near Rozel Point on north shore of the Great Salt Lake. Created in 1970 it is considered to be the anchor piece of New York artist Robert Smithson. The basalt rock 1,500 foot long spiral jetty is 15 feet wide and juts out into the lake to create what many call "the circle of life."

Each of the installations are located in regions of the desert that are overshadowed by stark vast openness.

But this is where I take issue. I am not an artist, nor do I pretend to ever be one, I am a photojournalist. And maybe it's that perspective that causes me to take issue with what I call environmental vandalism.

Yes, they were motivated in creating an interaction with the environment that most people may not consider in these quiet places. And their mere creation has drawn more, like myself, to venture into the environment that would otherwise be overlooked. Sure these things are fine and good on their own, but what troubles me is that in all of these pieces the artist was inspired/compelled by the sheer vastness and emptiness of the land to place their stamp and their finger print right in the middle of beautiful emptiness.

The Sun Tunnels

Maybe it is just a question of perspective. When working in Beloit, Wisconsin, which is effectively just a suburb of Chicago, Illinois, I had an editor that didn't like open spaces. He was raised in Illinois, but worked for several years Arizona. He told me several times he didn't like the west because in his experience he could drive for 60 miles before reaching the next town and civilization. And to me, this is precisely why I left the Midwest. I revel in the vast openness of nature and the reality I am of little significance in an untouched land.

Traveling through these desolate regions is a treat in itself. In the two days on these dirt road we came in contact with no more than a dozen people. That by itself is a reward for venturing out into these stark lands.

The area is full of wildlife and natural formations like beautiful seldom seen snow-capped mountain ranges and free flowing springs that bring life to land that many fear would rather take their life.

To me, in each of the these case, where the artist felt inspired to place their vision on the land, I feel they spray painted a big pink X in the focal point of nature's beauty.

Yes, I am environmentalist but I don't hug every tree that drops a leaf. However to me these pieces of art seem extremely out of place where the lack of man's touch should be cherished.

Recently, a Canadian company has applied to drill for natural resources on the north shore of the Great Salt Lake within view of the Spiral Jetty. Many have come out in opposition of the drilling. I am opposed to the drilling and the potential destruction of the natural landscape. However, others have hit the ground in the drilling's opposition sighting that drilling rigs would disrupt the view of Spiral Jetty and it's interaction with the beautiful lake shore.

I take issue with this argument. Yes, I agree in trying to halt the drilling efforts. But the Spiral Jetty is already a blight on the land and is environmental vandalism. It doesn't belong and is no better than a drilling rig. What happened to protecting our wide open beautiful spaces because they are just that, wide open and beautiful and have resisted the touch and vandalism of man?

Star Trek ... Yeah! Kick Ass!

Watching previews. My feet, left, Dayna's feet on right
So last night Dayna (the significantly better 98 percent of my life) and I actually did it and darkened the door of a movie theater. Hell, we actually did the whole dinner and movie date thing we had so prided ourselves in avoiding.

We bought our tickets early in the evening but purchased tickets for a much later show than planned. I think we were both a bit nervous about participating in such a date and were trying to delay the event. We lingered at dinner as long as possible.

But it was kick ass! We had a great time and the movie kicked ass.

Having being born in the late 70's I grew up with the original Star Trek on syndication during day time TV. My dad had all the movies and we watched them over and over. Then my awesome sister, who was a treky (sic?) and I would watch all the Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes and related movies like prescribed medication.

It was fun and Dayna, who was never a treky, understood all the cliches and all the characters and their rolls.

(Spoiler Alert)

And the old tired true script of being a new person on landing party meant that character was going to die held true once again. At least this time it was a white guy that was offed. In the old days, if you saw a new face in the background of a landing party you could count the minutes until they were killed to make the story and adventures of the Captain Kirk or Piccard that much more compelling.

So in the end, Star Trek was cool and we survived date night.

However, as fun as it was, we are not going to make dinner and a movie a stable of our date nights. We have opted to save it for rare occasions when there is a film we really want to see and to rather keep our time together active and exploring the world.

PS. I go back to work today! Soon there will be post related to assignments and photo-j observations.

Being a passenger and Star Trek

Dayna driving us to Park City for some shopping
Since being leveled by own body waging war with the evil that is lamisil (see earlier post My Pain and My Savior) I have not been driving much. And those that know me, know this is odd. I love to drive, hell my 2006 Suby has nearly 80,000 miles on it and I bought it new. Much of that can be attributed to my work. But while I am still recovering driving has been a chore. I am still weak and have a lot of pain in my joints and driving a stick shift can be taxing right now. And once behind the wheel, my joints and muscles stiffen up but I have been perfecting the roll and crawl out of the car maneuver. Dayna has stepped in whenever possible and this has been a new experience to be a passenger. I kinda dig actually looking out the window and seeing the world rush by from a new perspective where I can actually enjoy the view.

I know it sounds lame, but when you drive so much you have no idea how much you miss until you are in the right hand seat.

With that in mind, Dayna and I are going to attempt something tonight we have never done in our relationship.
Gizmo enjoy the ride ... wish I could do that
We are going to go and actually sit down and see a movie tonight. We are going to check out the new Star Trek movie in IMAX. ... I know, kinda anti-climatic. But we have taken pride in the fact that we have never been that couple in the movie theater not interacting with one and another, rather, every night when I get off work or we have nights or days off together we have always been doing something and being active. No Taco Bell nights, but pushing each other to try new food from different cultures and new experiences. She is a kick ass go-cart driver but I rule on the Foosball table! Ha!

This will truly be our first dinner and movie night ... we have been talking about it like it is the 900 pound warted and pink gorilla in the room. We even discussed this could put an ugly curse on our relationship, but we know we are strong enough to not allow 120 minutes of a boring date activity to destroy us! HA!

No, this decision did not come easily. Tonight's plan was originally for a night of clubbing and drinking, but with my current state of health and really being on the mend and road to recovery we opted to tackle the date night activity we swore off and has continued to stalk us ever since.

Wish us luck.

"Number One, you have the Helm."

PS. I get back to photojournalism this weekend. Sunday I am shooting the American Le Mans Utah Grand Prix. Woohoo!

The Pain and My Savior

Dayna, Fire, Cabin and Moon Rise

Dayna and I have begun taking on adventures. Any chance we get I am taking time off work and we have been getting in our fair share of trouble. We even purchased a tear-drop trailer for camping this summer and are getting ready for our great tour of the American West. We took it on a test run camping trip and towed it to southern Utah for my birthday. It was cold as hell, but it is just big enough to sleep both of us and the ever faithful Gizmo, the wonder dog. With that in mind, I decided it was a good time to finally take care of some minor health issues. My feet have plagued me for years. I have the flattest stumps that serve as feet. I was fitted for orthopedics and they have been great. Hopefully no more shin splints on the flat sections of hikes. But I have also had several nails plagued by toe fungus for several years. This has been a constant source of embarrassment and those that know me know I never take my socks off in front of people. However, this summer I plan to be on the beach a lot and I figured it was time to get a handle on the situation. About a month ago I began taking prescription Lamisil pills (generic; Terbinafine HCL 250 mg) to fight off the infection, little did I know that an attempt to fix my toe nails was about to turn into one of the most painful and humbling experiences in my life. My dad making fire
About three weeks into the regimen of pills and cream I began waking in the middle of the night for no reason and I began to feel pain and pressure in my ears. My ear canals swelled up to the point they became shut. I couldn't put head phones on and it sounded as if I was under water all the time. Dayna urged me to see a doctor early on, but I shrugged it off as just probably an ear infection. We irrigate my ears and put medicated drops in. My issues resolve quickly, but little did I know this was the first salvo my body had fired at me in an attempt to warn me of the impending pain and demise that was marching it's way through my flesh. I went out of town for a couple days on cool assignment about the western Utah desert. No problems. On Friday May 1st (11 days ago) I find myself with an unexpected day off. We had planned to meet one my fellow tribune photographers and friends that morning. We were to have our portrait done as part of Mother's Day gift for Dayna's mom. I wake and notice a couple spots on my skin on my arms. I figured I must have been bit by a spider. However, by the time I get out of the shower hives are covering my neck, my arms, my chest and the palms of my hands. At that moment I had a few choice words. I had heard hives were a known side-effect of the lamisil, but it was rare and usually not serious. I call my podiatrist and he confirms it is a side-effect of the pills and tells me to stop taking the drug and it should resolve itself with some benedryl. By the time I am off the phone, the hives have begun to spring up on my face and around my eyes. We race off to Walgreen's and I purchase all the benedryl pills and creams I can grab. Dayna is a trooper, she is a former a soldier, and orders me to take off my shirt right there in the Walgreen's parking lot where she is slathering me with benedryl cream. All the people at the adjacent McDonald's are getting more than they expected with their morning mcmuffin. We have a day off together and we are not about to waste it with a case of hives. We go to a party that night at the house of friend of mine from my former life as a ski and snowboard photographer. No issues, just cool patterns on my skin. Saturday I work my shift with mild discomfort but by evening I am beginning to feel pain. A burning sensation. Sunday May 3rd I wake and I am covered from head to toe. There will be no work for me. We race off to University of Utah Urgent care. Once there I am in pain, covered in hives and swelling. The doctor confirms it is the lamisil which I have already stopped taking but explains the drug takes weeks to build up in my skin and toe nails where it fights off the original infection. With that in mind he explains just how toxic of a substance it is and informs us it may take weeks to get out of my system because it is embedded in my skin. A simple detox is not going to work. With the extent of the hives he orders complete blood work including a liver function test. The doctor jokes I may be having this reaction due to stress and hints that upcoming nuptials maybe the cause. We both blush and laugh if off. I walk out with a shit-load of prescriptions for antihistamines and the steroid prednizone. I begin taking my drugs at once and head home for the night. The hives have really taken hold and as the doctor explained, I am just as broken out on the inside of my body as I am on the outside. I am having some difficulties moving around and can't get comfortable but Dayna is there to help me. She somehow splits her attention between me and her studies. She is preparing for her finals for what will be her THIRD masters degree. Here I am, a community college drop out that has a beautiful girlfriend that is younger than me and is willing to take care of me and somehow manages to excel at her career and tackle three master's degrees. On Monday I work most of my shift in the office but leave a couple hours early to get some rest. Tuesday morning rolls around and I meet travel writer Tom Wharton in the morning for a simple assignment. We are going to spend a couple hours on the north shore of the Great Salt Lake for a story then travel to Brigham City for lunch and a quick feature. We finish the first of our day with no problems. I was feeling great. But just as we are to drive to Brigham City I notice a knot in my throat I can feel when I swallow. I figure its a hive and take a couple benedryl. But by the time we get into town with another stop along the way my feet are swelling. I slather my feet with benedryl. I am hobbling a bit and hurt but I am ok and we have lunch. However, by the time we finish lunch and I pick up my camera to shoot a feature at the place we just ate it is obvious to everyone that something is not right. I shoot my photos and limp back to the car. I have gone from a healthy active 32-year-old to hobbling hunched over like a 99-year-old depression era survivor in the matter of an hour. We get back to Salt Lake where we go our different ways. I am once again en route to seek medical attention. I call Dayna to inform her of what is going on but she is a couple hours away with her work but is getting to me as fast as possible. I call my dad and he is en route to meet me. I am really scared. It hurts to touch the steering while. When I get to the parking lot I crawl out of my car. The pain has sapped all my strength. I very slowly limp in the front door. I am not kidding, an old woman with a walker passes me. I am so screwed. Once in I am rushed back to an examine room. My dad arrives and is pretty shocked by what he sees. The doctor informs me the "latent drug reaction" has really taken hold of my body and I am basically screwed. My earlier liver test results are in and it shows I have elevated liver enzyme levels meaning my body has been waging a war for awhile. The damage is not suspected to be permanent, but I will need further testing to ensure they do come down. In a later phone discussion I am informed it is lucky I quit the drug when I did, otherwise it could have been fatal. I walk out with a prescription for triple the dose of Prednizone steroids. The idea is that the steroid will suppress my immune system and keep my body from fighting off the lamisil so hard. That way the toxic drug can exit my system without my body going all suicide-bomber on itself. That is at least the idea. And if I can avoid a micro conquest or jihad taking place with my own flesh and blood ... well, sign me up. My dad carefully helps me into the car and he make sure I take my first super massive dose of roids. Dayna is on the other side when I get home and all 110 pounds of her carries me into the house and deposits me in bed where I will stay for two nights and a day. I am a bawling mess, I don't have the strength to lift myself up. I am scared and angry... she takes care of me. I am a blubbering mess ... she takes care of me. I try to fight my way to an upright position ... she takes care of me. I become a total angry asshole about the whole situation .... she goes and studies. On Thursday I have gained a ton of strength back. The doctor had given me the ok to travel. I have the weekend off for vacation so we opt to hit the road and join my family at our cabin near Pinedale, Wyoming. But after a nice day of traveling and enjoying what seems to be my health returning we are nailed by the effects of the mega-dose of prednizone. My whole body begins to swell again. I am swelling so bad I can't bend my fingers. My face swells all weird and my fingers are turning blue because all the circulation is being cut off. My joints are filled with so much fluid I can't bend any of them. I have been in serious car accidents and have been partially ejected in the past. The only way I can equate what is going is to describe it as like being in a rollover car accident and ejected out the windshield straight into a meat grinder. It is literally as if any time I try to move my muscles are being torn apart for the inside. My dad
So here we are, trying to enjoy a nice weekend away, and I can't even get out of bed once we are there. I literally have to have her lift me out of bed in the middle of the night just to get to the bathroom. But she does it and never complains. She helps me in and out of the car. At one point I don't have the strength of a baby and I can't even lift a can of soda to take a sip. But Dayna is there and she monitors my every move and is always one step ahead of me to ensure I can still try to have a nice weekend. By Friday we determine it is my best interest to get off the Prednizone. It's one of those situation where it is as if we are using an atomic bomb to repaint a bedroom. The hives will return, but at least I can still go to the bathroom on my own with hives. We manage to still have a nice weekend and even venture to Jackson Hole for a day of some shopping and being tourist. It is now 11 days since the original hives set in. I am going to try to work tomorrow, I am gain some strength back. I have had about 6 hours of decent health and normal walking ability in each of the last couple days. Over all I feel as if I am on the mend, but i definitely feel as if I have been seriously aged by the whole process. But I am thankful for several things. My family has been so supportive through this whole ordeal and has done all they can to make sure I am getting back to health. My employers have cleared me off the schedule when needed. And then there has been Dayna. She has given so much to be there for me. When I have scratched at a hive I can feel the daggers shoot from her eyes telling me stop, and if I still don't stop, a quick slap swiftly dealt by her usually does the trick. At times I have hated the world for putting me through this and she has been there to fight back my punches in the wind. When I had fallen or found myself without the strength to sit up right or stand, she has been there to wipe away the tears and help me stand. Dayna, Gizmo and Cabin
It may take several more weeks before I am back up to 100 percent but I am sure I will get there. With my family and Dayna there to pick me up and wipe away the tears, I cannot fail. They make that impossible.

Finally ... a cool cheerleader!

So I was shooting a Jazz game recently and I remembered a prior conversation with a friend where they commented that one of the perks of shooting Jazz games is that the dancers (cheerleaders) sit next to the photographers on the baselines. I retorted that this was not a perk because the smell from all the gallons perfume and layers of hairspray is enough to make you ill.
Sorry, it is just not my gig.
But this sparked a memory of a totally kick ass cheerleader I had shot during the girls high school basketball championships. Alexis Armstrong is a special needs student at Wasatch High School where she is also a member of the cheer squad. I was fortunate to meet her prior to her team's game in the championship.
I was getting set up to shoot when I noticed her in her wheelchair trying to get up onto the court that had been laid at the E Center in West Valley. Her cheer squad teammates were already in position and none of them had helped her onto the court so I went over and introduced myself to her and wheeled her on the court where she could cheer.
She was behind me much of the time at first while I was shooting but when I changed positions to the other side of the court for a quarter I could see why she was member of the squad.
Alexis seemed to be the only cheerleader in the arena really cheering with all her heart. She was really going for it with everything she had. Maybe it was the disability that freed her from the scripted routines that seem to be really heavy in passion-lacking yells of words of encouragement, painful ear to ear smiles and the manicured look of cliche.
No matter what it was, she really cheered for her team in a genuine manner that stood her apart from the rest.
I have never understood the concept of cheerleaders and probably never will. But watching Alexis gave me hope that not all cheerleaders are as annoying as I imagine them to be.
Her team went onto win the championship.
PS. Why is there always a couple cheerleaders that run onto the court during timeouts tumbling as far as they can? Why do they do this and what purpose does it serve?

Rooting for the little guy

A couple weeks ago I was assigned to cover a college basketball game between Weber State University and Idaho State University.  My assignment basically told me to get some action shots of the game at the beginning but I was to primarily focus on stand-out Weber State guard Kellen McCoy.

I don't follow sports that much so I really didn't know much about him when I got there, but it became obvious what made him unique when I saw him hit the floor.

On the roster it list him as 5'6" which I knew wasn't right. I stand 5'5 1/2" ... maybe 5'6" on a good day and when McCoy walked past me he was shorter than me. 

But it wasn't our common lack of height that made him stand out on the court. The dude played hard and kicked ass. 

It was amazing to watch this guy lead the offense, rebound, defend and drive to the hoop. Other players that neared the seven-foot mark had a hard time defending against him when they were bent over so dramatically. It was hard to follow him when he would drive to the lane because once he entered the key he would disappear behind several taller players. I would get my shots when he exited the crowd near the baseline. 

Hell, at my height there are junior high kids that tower over me. But here he is, making a name for himself in a sport that is dominated by junior giants.

Damn! McCoy gave me hope. Maybe someday someone like me that is only 5'5 1/2" could grow up to be President.

    

Relieved when the candle went out

-Enga Valasi, right, an aunt of JoJo Lee Brandstatt, mourns and calls out with her sister-in-law Elena Faauli, left, during a candle light vigil for JoJo Lee Brandstatt Saturday, February 7, 2009 at the West Ridge golf course in West Valley. JoJo Lee Brandstatt, 18, was found dead on the West Ridge golf course early Friday morning. Jim Urquhart/The Salt Lake Tribune; 2/07/09-

It's been a long time since I updated, but I have decided to get back in the saddle as it were and begin posting again. 

Last weekend I was assigned to cover a candle light vigil for a young man that was killed in a bizarre case that involved two kidnappings, three armed robberies. 

According to law enforcement JoJo was lured into being kidnapped by an acquaintance that had also been kidnapped. Jojo was gunned down on the green of a local golf course and his acquaintance was then forced to hold-up three convenience stores. 

The vigil was held at the spot on the golf course where Jojo was murdered. About 50 friends and family members had shown up, many wearing shirts with Jojo's name on them and most were wearing red in remembrance of him.

My reporter and I made our way through the crowd talking to people that knew him. It was very dark but I didn't want to intrude with a camera flash so I opted to shoot at very slow shutter speeds and rely strictly on the candles to light the scene. 

Most everyone was crying, at times there was a sense of anger and several of the young men spoke about taking out some sort of revenge on those that they felt were responsible for Jojo's death. I made many frames of crying and angry people but it was the above frame that stood out to me.  

Near the end of the vigil everyone gathered tightly in a circle and a prayer was offered to Jojo. I was on the outside of the circle and made several frames with the camera held over my head looking over the group. Then a bouquet of red balloons was released and at that moment I began to hear a distinct set of cries and sobs taking place right in front of me. 

It was Jojo's aunt Enga whom he was very close to. She was calling out to balloons as they lifted skyward. She was standing right in front of me. I knew this was going to the moment that was going to tell the story of grief and loss. 

This was taking place right in front of me and I only had room to take one step back to create some some room between her and me. 

All her emotions of sorrow and loss were directed to the balloons floating away as if she was watching Jojo. She cried out over and over and I just did everything I could to keep the camera glued to my face focused on the emotions pouring out in front of me. 

Although it will never compare to what Enga was going through, as I was shooting I could feel a deep sense of sorrow for her and the pain she was going through. 

I kept shooting very deliberately keeping in mind I was shooting at such a slow shutter speed because of the darkness that many of frames may be blurry from the movement of Enga, those around her and my shaking. 

It only lasted for just under a minute but the cries and the calls out seemed to last forever. But I knew I had to keep following the scene to tell the story. 

But finally Enga became silent and her candle went out and I could not see her anymore.

I knew I had the frame and at that moment I was so relieved when her candle went out and I knew I didn't need to keep watching the scene through the lens.  

    

Moab Wildfire

Last week I covered a late season wildfire in Moab. It wasn't a big one, about 450 acres, but it temporarily forced the evacuation of several homes and a hotel. I got the call late on it but I was able to drive the four hours quick enough to get in on some of the action. My reporter and I showed up in our full fire gear including shelters and were allowed great access. 

Many times the officials in charge try to keep us as far away as possible, but after this crew saw we had all our safety gear it was a lot harder for them to say no. 

Once in, it was fairly easy to get good images. The fire crews had no problem with me being right with them. They would just yell "hey cameraman" if I was getting in the way. 

It was late afternoon and the light was awesome. That and the smoke and the actions of the firefighters made for some nice images. I really tried hard to play off the smoke and the action. I hope you like the selects. Feed back is always welcome.  

Wilderness Therapy

So it's been awhile since I have posted. I have been a bit distracted as of late. 

I figured I would pull out an assignment I completed awhile back. 

I was assigned to cover a wilderness therapy program for troubled teens on a trip in Coyote Gulch in the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area in southern Utah near Lake Powell (it's not really a lake, it's a reservoir, there is a huge difference on this one). 

I ended up doing a 10 mile hike to get in with the group and get out that night. It was brutal. Very hot, ran out of water, drank water from the Escalante River that I later found a dead bat in. Had to climb slick rock walls and sand traps for 1,000 vertical feet to exit the gulch and came within milliseconds and inches from being bitten by a rattle snake in the night on the way out.

My reporter got skinned alive after repeatedly falling down a slick rock wall but she survived with cool battle wounds. At one point in the trip I had to lay in a creek for about 20 minutes to get my body temperature down. It was actually a bit frightening to feel your body begin to shut down and not just because of simple of exhaustion. We both agreed that getting in and out loaded with gear and battling the heat and dehydration was one of the most physically challenging things each one of us has ever done. 

Above are some selects from the trip and a multimedia package I produced with a lot more photos and audio and voices from the trip can be found here.

Enjoy, any feedback is welcome.

My Dad. The King of Dads!

This is my dad, Don Allen Urquhart, and me on a fishing trip off the western coast of Mexico a couple years ago. To me it's the best photo of us together ever taken. We had just spent a couple days fishing for tuna on a charter trip. It was a business related trip that my dad called me up at the last minute for and invited me to come along. It was one of our first times he and I traveled just us on a trip. Despite both of us fighting off sea sickness for most of the trip we had a riot. Our boat caught nearly 160 tuna in just the first few hours of the first day. We had to slow down a bit because we were quickly running into our quota the permit allowed on the boat for the trip.  (there is nothing like eating freshly seared tuna while you have a rod in your hand catching more.)

It was so much fun watching my dad reel in fish after fish. I didn't fish near as much as he did. I was having more fun watching him. This 40 pound tuna I am holding was actually caught by him. But he wanted me to be the one to hold it for the photo. 

But that's how my dad is. He has always loved me with all his heart and has always wanted me to succeed. 

I shot some video on the trip and for awhile when I was fishing he took the camera and shot me fishing. I don't know if he knows it, I guess he will soon, but at one point while he is shooting the video of me he is also talking to business associate and the conversation is very clear. As I am pulling in a small tuna he is talking to another man about me and said, "I am a proud father."  

In my heart I will always thank him for that. 

He has always meant the world to me. To me he has always been the strongest yet gentlest man to walk the earth. He has always been there to love me unconditionally with all his heart. 

I put him through hell and back when I was young. I came very close to death once and cant imagine what fear and sorrow he must of felt. But he was there and he believed in me and never doubted I could be whole again. 

Sometimes we have joked that I am his negative -- meaning he is taller, blonde hair, fair complected and blue eyed-- and I am short, brown, darker and brown. 

But although we have different coloring, we have the same build, same walk, same mannerism and the same hands with stubby fingers. 

I also have his name, I am proud to be named Don James Urquhart. I take pride and I am honored knowing my father wanted me to carry his name. 

My dad sacrificed so much to watch me succeed and I only hope that I can be half the man and half the father he has been.  His one major goal in life relating to me is for him to see me happy. For me, it is I always want to make him proud of the son I am and the man I am becoming. 

Loss

(above, the Thibeault family grieves at a memorial to fallen soldiers. Jordan Thibeault died last week while serving in Iraq)

Loss, sorrow and grief have been common theme as of late.

On Thursday I was assigned to cover a memorial service of the seventh anniversary of the September 11th attacks.  I was not expecting the image that took place in front of me. 

I got to the assignment early and began working with my reporter and shooting images of people making their way through a field of flags that had been set up to mark the lives of those lost in the attacks. I also shot photos of elected officials talking about the attacks and the war on terrorism.  

I had been told this assignment was being considered for our front page centerpiece. For most of the shoot I was feeling it was OK but there wasn't anything that had really stood out.

It was also becoming evident this event was also a memorial to those that have lost their lives serving in the military. 

To concluded the ceremony, a wreath was to be placed by Navy Reservist and US Army soldiers were going to conduct a ceremony in the memory of fallen soldiers. 

The sun had begun to set and the light was really becoming dramatic when this began.

I had positioned myself to the right of where the ceremonies were to take place.

At this time Gold Star Mothers were being honored for theirs and their children's sacrifice. I began shooting groups of families placing dog-tags on a rifle that had a helmet resting on top of it and was placed next to pair a boots, all of which was symbolic of a fallen soldier.

It was a very sincere ceremony and I stayed with a telephoto lens as not to intrude on the grief taking place in front of me. 

The last family to make their way to the memorial was the Thibeault family who had lost their son Jordan Thibeault last week while he was serving in Iraq. 

As they approached I watched through the lens as waves of grief and emotion came over them.  The setting sun was striking their faces as they wept and I began to tremble. I told myself to stay in the camera and keep watching the scene. 

As hard as it is to witness such events, it is my job to focus and record these moments in history. As painful as they are, they are needed to tell the story of our lives. 

I made images zoomed-in tight on their faces but realizing I had enough images of grief zoomed tightly I began to back out of the situation and show more of the surroundings.

I moved just once to a position behind a set of flags that at times were being blown by the wind. The wind calmed for a moment and just then a soldier knelt down in front of the memorial and there in front of me was the story of loss. During this time, an Army officer began a roll call with the names of soldiers and when he came to Jordan Thibeault there was no reply. His name was repeatedly called out with a bit more anguish in the voice each time. And every time there was no response. 

I could hear the sobs taking place around me and I could the see sadness and grieving sorrow on the faces of the Thibeaults. The light was only illuminating them as if this moment in time was only for their grief.

I kept the camera glued to my face as to not show that I also had began to weep. This moment in time was theirs and theirs only.

I have been scared at times about having to endure loss. I just hope none of those in my life have to endure what the Thibeaults are going through.

 I thank the Thibeaults for allowing me to tell this story and I am so sorry for your loss.

Jordan Thibeault was just 22 when he died. He was only 15 when the September 11th attacks took place.

The Long Bus Ride Home

On Friday night I drove to Kamas, Utah to cover a high school football game between South Summit and Grand County High School from Moab. I wasn't really covering the game on this one though. This assignment was about how the Moab football team was taking on one of the longest road trips in the state for a regular season game. These guys had to ride in a bus for 239 miles to get to the game, play, then jump back on the bus and ride for five hours back to Moab. 

I produced a multimedia (audio slideshow) piece that can be found here.

I tried to look for story telling images on the sidelines during the game and was able to get into the locker room before the game, half time and after. 

But the key part of the assignment was that I left my car in Kamas and rode the bus with the players back to Moab. 

The mood was very subdued. They had just lost 20 to 0. It wasn't long before everyone passed out. It was a very long trip. Imagine being packed in a bus with about 50 teenage young men that had just played a football game. It was hot and smelly. But it was fun.

It was interesting to watch the guys interact and watch the hierarchy system that was in place. Seniors and varsity players had the back of the bus. JV players and the younger players up front. 

I was up front for most of the trip. At one point I tried to venture to the back, but found I couldn't go anywhere. It was complete blackness and there were sleeping people everywhere,

The isle was stuffed with kids sleeping on the floor. I couldn't step anywhere without actually stepping on someone. I tried to photograph this scene, but I couldn't use a flash because it was distracting to the driver at night and when you're traveling across the desert to Moab, there are no lights from a city. 

I made due though and did most of my shooting when we were passing by some kind of light source like businesses or oncoming big rigs. 

We finally arrived in Moab after 3AM. I did a quick preliminary edit before I went to sleep at the motel. Slept for about three hours, then was back on the road with reporter. She had to ride both ways on the bus and was now driving me back to Kamas to get my vehicle before either one of us could head home.

It was an interesting assignment, but I would not recommend riding in a school bus for five hours to anyone. 

Winning $1 Million - Deal or No Deal

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to win a million dollars? I was given the opportunity to cover Utahn Jessica Robinson winning the top prize, $1,000,000, on NBC's "Deal or No Deal."
I was sent to cover a party held where her friends and family watched the broadcast where she won. The episode was taped on July 9, 2008 but she had to keep it a secret that she won for almost two months.
In fact, a lot of her family were kept in the dark and most of party goers did not know she won. It was amazing to watch Jessica and her friends and family react as the episode progressed. It was a riot to watch Jessica watch the show and relive the adventure and emotions as the show continued and come completely unglued when she watched herself win. I bet it was also a relief she no longer had to keep such a huge secret.

It Snowed!!!!

It snowed on Monday morning(Labor Day) in the high elevations of the Wasatch mountain range. WOOOOHOOOOOO!
--"Take that mean cruel Summer! How do you feel now Mr. I will make you uncomfortably hot?
It's cold isn't it! Your days are numbered. Mr. Bright Sunny and Sweltering Hot, put your hands up and reach for the sky!
Punk."--
If you can't tell, I am super excited about the fact there is fresh snow in the mountains, even if it is just a couple inches above 8,000 feet.
It's weird. Summer really is a bummer for me. When most people are enjoying the sun and getting out, I am more prone to trying to sleep in super late, I put on weight and not really motivated compared to the zest I feel in the cold months. In the winter I am much happier, shed weight and in general 10 times more active. Maybe there is a medical term, something like "reverse seasonal polarized affective disorder" -I just made that term up. ;-)
Well, we had to cover the development for the paper, so I drove to Snowbird in Little Cottonwood Canyon and bought a tram pass to get to where the snow hadn't melted off from at 11,000 feet. I shot the above images while riding to the top in the tram and while hanging out at the summit of Hidden Peak for awhile. While on the tram I met a couple families that were heading up with their kids to check out the freshly fallen snow. I introduced myself to them and they were super cool about letting me shoot frames of them enjoying the new development.
Unfortunately I couldn't stick around on top too long. As much as I wanted to keep hanging out enjoying the view and cold air I had to get back to the valley to watch a woman in Sandy win $1,000,000 (more on that later).
While commuting I left a couple vulgarity riddled messages for my ski buddy Jim P. on his cell phone about the fact it snowed and that it was just that much closer to ski season. He just responded to me with a text message to the effect that he was hung over. Fine. He can have his headache. I made a snowball.
I guess this means I better get serious about getting ready for the season. More time in the gym working on core strength (argh), more time on my bike and watching ski movies.

Wet dogs

If you know me, you know I love dogs. For the majority of my life I have had a dog in my home and love their companionship. 

Last week I had been assigned to go to the West Valley Family Fitness Center where the pool was opened to dogs before it was a closed for a couple weeks for it's annual tune-up. 

It was a fun assignment to shoot and the fact my subjects were truly in it for the fun and not reacting to the camera made it better. 

I had asked about wadding in the pool to get a different really up-close prospective of the dogs having fun but was informed that I would not be allowed to because the county health department deemed it unsafe. 

Go figure.

Above are a couple of the shots I liked from the take.

Smoking in the corner.

A couple weeks ago I was assigned to cover the last night of Club Manhattan here in Salt Lake off of Main Street and 400 So. before it closed for several weeks for a complete remodel. The club has been mainly known for it's hip-hop scene recently and it was fitting that was the night it closed on.

The owner of the club, which has been open since World War II, wants to try to re-capture some it's past luster.

I turned in a decent shoot that I felt OK about, but it was these two frames that were not included in that edit that I really liked. 

In both cases the frames were omitted because I knew there was no-way our presses could make a four color separation of these colors. (CMYK (cyan, magenta, yellow and black) presses hate rich reds and certain blues). 

The basement club was very dark with rich red walls and tungsten yellow lights on the walls. It was the type of place you go to enjoy the music and social scene but not be seen. 

I knew I needed images that could reproduce so I shot with a fill flash for most of the assignment. But I saw the girl above sitting with a group of her friends in the corner. 

She was smoking and each time she inhaled off the cigarette the bright cherry illuminated her face. 

To me it was a simple shot that stood out for it's uncomplicated nature and told the story of the place.  

Being a former smoker, I understood the sense of satisfaction of the drink with friends and a pack of smokes for the conversation.

She was smoking KOOLs.

Burlesque anyone ... anyone?

A week ago I was assigned to shoot local burlesque troupe The Slippery Kittens. I swear this was an assignment. I had to wait on posting it here because the story had not run until yesterday. The group has been gaining quite a following here locally and this was their last local performance before departing for L.A. to compete in the semifinals of NBC's "Americas Got Talent." That was the whole crutch of the story. 

It was actually a tough assignment.

I had been told before that the club/bar they were performing at had really bad light on it's stage ... that was an understatement. With black painted walls and ceilings the handful of colored lights on stage made making a meaningful image almost impossible. 

However, knowing the light situation may be bad, I arrived early to meet with the performers and ask about getting backstage and try to come up with a decent image before they went on stage. 

I was invited right in. 

But to be sure everyone was at ease I announced to the whole group that if anyone was uncomfortable with me being in there, just let me know and I can leave now. I was basically greeted with a --'if you(me) are uncomfortable, it's your(my)problem'-- 

I was just being cautious.

Backstage at a burlesque show ... well, the situation was almost as difficult as the stage. Their dressing room consisted of a plywood room with black painted ceiling and walls except for one brick wall. The room, which was about 12 feet deep and about eight feet wide, held more than a dozen performers and had only one 70 watt tungsten bulb hung about five feet off the floor against the far wall right above the mirror.

I figured if I got my back to that wall I might be able to expose for a nice image. But the room was so cramped. One of the women suggested I stand on a beat-up table by the mirror ... so I did. 

I just hung out there as the performers would check their outfits and make-up before going on stage. 

It paid off. Just before they went on stage the three women above all came together for last minute checks and I had the image I was looking for.

We ended using the above image as our centerpiece for the package and used the performing images as secondary shots.

This will go down as one of the most unique assignments I have ever had.

Shooting Faith

To me, shooting photos of people practicing their faith has always been an enlightening experience. I have never been one of professed faith but it has always been something I have been aware of. 

Growing up my parents allowed me great freedoms to explore if a faith in a god was something I wanted in my life. I experimented with several belief systems but never found one that seemed to fit. I have always had too many questions that to me were not answered. But at the same time, I have been drawn to the experience of signing over one's heart to something I could not fully explain. 

The mechanics of faith has always been something I have wanted to understand. Is practicing faith a matter of opening your heart to something that may not be tangible? Is faith achieved by acts and deeds? Is faith a sense of having a purpose outside of career and personal achievements? Is faith a quiet moment by yourself?

Recently, I have found myself at times being a bit jealous when watching others experience their faith. It's almost as if I am asking myself over and over again what are they experiencing that I don't have. 

It's weird, sometimes I feel like I may be the odd man out. I grew up in a LDS community and many of my friends are LDS. But still yet, many of friends are born-again Christian, others are Jewish, some are Muslim, Buddhist, Seventh Day Adventist, Jehovah's Witness, Catholic and so on. Then me ... one that hasn't ruled out faith in my life but has not found a system that I can open my heart to.  

I admire those that practice their faith with their heart. I have a friend that is preparing to be sealed in the LDS Temple with his wife, another recently traveled to Jerusalem to practice her faith and then there is Jim. Jim is a born-again christian that lives his faith everyday and is always willing to serve as a sounding board to the various questions I have about religion in general.

About a month ago I was assigned to shoot the youth conference and rally for members of the Evangelical Free Church of America (see above photos). I had good access to the rally goers and the shoot went well. I shot a "Prayer Army" where about 2,000 people got together and prayed. They just prayed to their god about what ever was in their heart. I was able to shoot pics of these kids in their space and was also able to listen in on their prayers. It was interesting, most of the kids prayed for the well being of their families and friends as well as expressing a hope for a better world. Then they prayed some more.

Then I attended a rally for the 5,000 participants. 

It was a scene filled with loud pumping music, MTV style graphics and lights mixed in with praise for god, supported by a concert system fit for a touring band. Most of the youth seemed to be profoundly moved by the experience. I was grateful for the access and the openness I was greeted with. 

When I left the event I knew I had a good set of images but once again I had a whole new series of questions.

Bikes and sweet light

Last night I was assigned to cover the criterium phase of the Tour of Utah bike race. The race started at 7pm so the light was sweet and the paper only wanted a couple pics from the event that lasted approximately 90 minutes ... so I had some time to play and try to come up with something cool. Some of these pics are a success, others ... not so much. Feedback is always welcome. 

A Mother's Pain

                                                                                         

                                                                   Saturday afternoon (08/09/08) I witnessed and photographed the pain no mother should ever have to endure. I was sent to the Glendale neighborhood on the west side of Salt Lake City where Magdalena Rodriguez's lost her 13-year-old son Kevin Carrillo.  Kevin was killed while riding on the back of a scooter that was driven past a stop sign into traffic. 

Kevin died within one block of his home. His body fell within sight of his front porch.

I hate to cover these scenes. When I put the car into gear I know I am about to race off to go witness some one's worst tragedy. Regrettably, it's seems to be a theme replaying over and over again this summer. 

When I arrived, I pulled up to the standard issue road block, flashed my credentials to the officer manning the post who waved me past to continue a block down what once was a busy artery but was now where reporters stood in the road at the edge of a yellow tape line. 

It was that late afternoon yellow light I first noticed and it seemed the temperature was very comfortable. The recent heat seemed to be waning. It would have been a beautiful day to get out and enjoy the weather. 

However, in the middle of the road was a smashed scooter that had been first hit by an compact car then a full-size crew van.

 I began with the standard scene setter shots of the investigation which showed the road, officers investigating the accident and a group of onlookers. 

I had the scene covered so I began looking for the emotional impact this accident had caused. I wadded into the group watching the roadway. Once there I met up with my reporter and we began interviewing teenagers and adults who knew the victims and many had witnessed the accident. The shots from that situation helped tell the story and reinforce the fact a real person was killed. Someone that was known and loved.

After spending about an hour at the scene the reporter and I decided to try to find Kevin's family. 

We quickly found his whole family grieving on his front porch one block to the west where a memorial with his picture and candles had already been erected. As we approached I could hear his mother's sobs from behind a group of family members. 

I couldn't see her but I kept my cameras down and waited as the reporter started talking to family members. I sure as hell wasn't going to race up onto her porch and jam a camera in her face. She has been through so much in the last hour and I am there to tell a story, not cause more pain and suffering.

After some discussions with my reporter and family members who could speak both Spanish and English I was allowed by Magdalena onto her porch to shoot photos of the photos of Kevin. I think that after showing the family I wasn't there to cause any harm and being respectful of them while I was on the porch they allowed me to stay. 

Nothing was ever said, but nothing had to be. 

Magdalena began telling us about Kevin and the accident. I am purposely omitting the graphic details but what this family witnessed I hope that none of my loved ones ever have to endure.  

She and her whole family allowed me to listen to the story of Kevin and allowed me to photograph her pain. For a few minutes they allowed themselves to trust a complete stranger and I am very grateful for it. 

The photo of Magdalena on the porch with her sorrow and memories of Kevin ran as a centerpiece on the local section front Sunday morning. 

These stories are always hard to cover and not something I ever look foreword to. I just hope that it sparked a few discussions on Sunday morning. Maybe just an extra hug and kiss before loved ones parted ways for the day.

Summer please end soon

So I am off today and completely wiped out after working seven days straight. With the olympics going on I was drafted to pick up a couple night editing shifts which can be taxing when there is a lot going on. I shouldn't complain too much, Chris Detrick, a friend and fellow SL Tribune photographer has been in China working non-stop covering the games pulling 20 hour days. But during this last week I was in Huntington on the year anniversary of the Crandall Canyon mine disaster, on Thursday I found myself trying to get access to a very un-mudslidish mudslide, Friday I covered a horrible murder scene, Saturday I covered a fatal scooter accident that resulted in a 13-year-old being killed before he got a chance to really enjoy life and now ... I am just tired of summer and praying for snow. 

Actually, the more I watch the summer games, the more I really miss winter. I have never been a fan of summer since I can remember. To me summer has always been associated with being uncomfortably hot and sweaty while being weighed down by a sense of tension. 

But winter has meant crispness and a sense of calm in even the most unruly of storms. The sting of wind driven snow crystals on my face and the bite of a nasal freezing blast of cold dry air is what I dream about. 

In my protest of summer today I decided to look through my archive of images I shot this year and I came across the image of a hiker in the snow I shot late in the afternoon of May 1, 2008 at the top of Big Cottonwood Canyon near Brighton Ski Resort.

 I was sent out to cover a late season storm that dumped more than a foot in a couple hours. I really liked this scene because of how simple it is. A man hiking through freshly fallen snow to get some late season turns in before the onset of a dreaded summer. It's funny, since I got a late start on this story I spent hours looking for people still out in the mountains when I knew I missed most of them in the morning. I shot this frame early, but didn't realize it worked until much later after several hours in vain of searching for the story telling image. But I already had it. We ended up running it big on the front page and I felt good about it in the end. 

You can have your summer of flip flops, BBQs, bikinis, concerts and social events. I want deep snow, my snowboard, cobalt blue skies and stillness.   

1st post ... and a safe rainbow

So this is my first post. Welcome to my blog. I hope you will find it worth your while as it develops.
I am a photojournalist for The Salt Lake Tribune in Salt Lake City, Utah, and I have started this blog to share some of the sights and sounds that come with that experience.
I am also planning to include more than what I witness in the course of my job. Maybe this will get me off my ass to actually start shooting for myself again. Something I have rarely done in years.
A rainbow - something I pass by all the time without even thinking twice about. They happen all the time, right?
Recently I was traveling back to Salt Lake City through Utah County after covering a mudslide that closed Highway 6 near Price. As I exited Spanish Fork Canyon I caught a bright hue out of the corner of my eye to north. At first I didn't thing much of it but the more I drove closer to getting onto the interstate I thought about the scene taking place next to me. Still hesitant, I kept looking out the window trying to find a major flaw in the design of the bow that would give me an excuse not to pull over and shoot it. The more I looked and drifted in and out of my lane, I couldn't come up with a reason not to shoot it. So just before I was about to merge onto the interstate I flipped a U-turn in afternoon traffic and raced to find a good angle to shoot it from.
All of sudden I was racing through side streets towards Springville looking for a clean background and a view without power lines.
Something I was so ready to pass up had just become a purpose.
I finally found myself walking through a horse pasture that was surrounded by homes. I shot a few frames, enjoyed the sight and walked away having shot something for myself. Yeah, a rainbow. It's a start.