Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: Make The Photo

F LoBuono

It had been a long day. Work called me first thing in the morning to extend my shift from 4p-12a to 4p-4a. There had been breaking news concerning the terrible school shooting in Florida. So it was All Hands On Deck. Plus, we had a mixed snow/ice/rain storm in the evening that would make the driving from my work in NYC to my apartment in South Nyack, NY (about 25 miles) hazardous at best.

By the time I finished my shift, negotiated the slick roads, and made my way home, it must have been near 5 in the morning. One would think that I would be pretty exhausted by then. After all, it had been a hectic 12 hours at work and another 2 commuting. So, I was indeed tired. But, in order to maintain such a challenging schedule, one of the things that I do is mentally pump myself up with adrenaline.  I've trained myself over the years to be able to cope in the hectic, maddening world of TV News. Besides, it is not in my best interest to fall asleep on my drive home. So, now I'm hyped up and will NEVER fall asleep as soon as I get home. It usually takes me an hour or two with equal measures of bourbon to eventually even consider heading for my bed.

So, it was the case last night.

On my way home, I noticed that because the snow was so wet and heavy it was clinging to the trees lining the roadways. And, in the reflected street lights, it was incredibly beautiful. The next day was supposed to warm and, therefore, I knew that the scene wouldn't last. So, a few blocks from my house, I decided to make some photos of my neighborhood. Taking advantage of the contrast between the brightness of the still pure white snow and the dark shapes it covered, I decided to create the photos in Black and White. I was pleased with the results. After about 10 minutes, I finally entered my apartment where I quickly fell into my usual routine; a little TV, a snifter or two of bourbon, and, perhaps, a bite to eat.

After about an hour, I finally started to feel groggy. I got my clothes off, put on my nice, warm fleece bathrobe and a pair of slippers and prepared to hit the sack. But, then I noticed that the sun was beginning to rise, producing the most faint but glorious light. In combination with the freshly fallen snow it made everything appear a delicate shade of pale blue/green.

It was a scene that I simply could not resist.

In my bathrobe and slippers, cell phone camera in hand, I went back outside to make more photos! And, I'm damned glad that I did. I only made about a dozen photos but of which I really liked 4 or 5. I was grateful that it was early on a Sunday morning and, therefore, was  hoping that no one would catch me running around on a 30 degree morning, in the snow, in slippers and bathrobe. But, I'm sure that even if someone did see me, it would have been no big deal - my neighbors have given up trying to make sense of me a long time ago!

But, for me, this IS the creative process. It is rarely planned but, rather, organic in nature. If I see something, I make something. I am compelled to do so. It doesn't matter what time it is or what day it is. It is inconsequential what I may be wearing or what else I may be doing. If there is a photo to be made, I'm going to make it.

Many years ago, I didn't make a shot that, in hindsight, I sure should have. It is the one that got away. I was producing a documentary in China with another gentleman who happened to be an Orthodox Jew. One evening, as the sun was setting in the hotel room we shared in Beijing, my partner started his traditional prayers in front of the window. In the background, the sun was a blazing red disc framing the legendary Forbidden City while in the foreground my friend bowed and chanted. The juxtaposition between these 2 ancient cultures struck me both immediately and viscerally. However, because it was a private, even sacred moment, I felt that the noise of my camera's shutter would have been disrespectful to my partner. So, I never made the photograph. And, I've regretted it ever since.

Well, I swore that would never happen again. And, it hasn't.

See the photo.

Make the photo.

Always.