Eddie Adams (Day 3) transcribed from journal

Aside from getting no sleep last night, i was made to get out of bed at 530 am to get a ride out to a gun club. The girl giving us a ride was late, over 30 minutes. I could have slept a little longer.
So I spent the whole day photographing gun enthusiasts and hunters. I wouldn’t say it was the most exciting, but it was better than Main Street, USA. I first followed a client who was doing circuit skeet shooting. It was explained to me as being like golf for guns. That was a cool experience. I got a lot of good photos. After I was done with that I walked around shooting details. I was so tired and feeling burnt out that it was hard for me to find the shot or subject matter. I started shooting natural light portraits of some of the employees around the club. With that I decided to do no nice portraits of gun enthusiasts. Some worked out well. Others, not so well. I did get to meet and talk with some really nice people. Later in the afternoon I went out into the field to photograph some guys hunting. That was extremely difficult. I don’t think I got very many photos. The light was horrible. I also was very nervous about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, being shot.
Today was our lat day of shooting. It was really hard to get an idea and successfully shoot it in two days. But from what I’ve been hearing from my team leaders, my work looked good. They noticed that I put a lot of hard work into the day, and that it appeared that this was a little more possible than my first assignment.
It was definitely a much better day shooting. The portfolio review though was brutal.
Aside from being blown off by my team leaders, there were a bunch of asshole students who felt they could leave a placeholder inline at a table while they went off to speak with other reviewers. Somehow it was always directed at me when I sat down. I couldn’t believe that they had the audacity to tell someone sitting down that they were holding a place while they met with someone at another table. At one point in the night I had been waiting to speak with a guy from a Colorado newspaper. 30 minutes I waited. One guy rolled up, said he had an appointment and the reviewer told him to sit down and started looking at his book, completely ignoring me. So I broke in and asked, literally, “what the fuck!?” the kid looked at me and said he had an appointment, and the guy looked at me and said, ya, he has an appointment. So replied, what the fuck, he’s late! You snooze you lose. Didn’t anyone ever teach either of you that being late is fucking selfish! It affects everyone. Obviously not. The kid offered to let me go first. Fuck it. Forget it. The guy was telling kid not to worry. I left. Later on that same kid found me and said, hey we’re done and the guy is looking for you. “Oh really?” I went back over to the table. I introduced myself again and he says, “I can’t see you. I have another late appointment.” Ok. That’s it. “Fuck You.” The late comer was a buddy of mine, my team member, who had saw what happened to me earlier and and let me cut in. At this point I was over meeting with this guy. Not to mention that I knew that this guy would rip me a new one, just because. And he did just that.He looked at me and said, “I am in a particularly obnoxious mood tonight so expect the worst. I got just that from him, not to mention I figured he would give me the least amount of his time for calling him out.
He lived up to all my expectations.He ripped my work to shreds, and left nothing to hold in his wake. I thanked the fuckin asshole for his time and left. Honestly, after listening to critique and comparing it to others I had received, I realized that this guy was a tired, jaded photo journalist who was just unhappy and burned out. I was not the only one who made the same observation.
The final person I met with was a woman from the chicago free press. She warned me that it was the end of the night and she was pretty much done with looking at work, and tired. She gave me 5 minutes compared to the 30 minutes she gave the guy before me. Afetr thsi I went back to my room. I was tired frustrated, and fed up. If this was photojournalism, sitting in a small room, jockeying for a space in the right location, then I really don’t like it much, it may not be for me. I don’t have it in me to do that. I made that apparently clear last night. Maybe photojournalism isn’t for me. Or, may be photo journalism isn’t about being in a small room jockeying for the right position. Maybe its about something else. Something far greater. And maybe it is for me.
One thing I really noticed last night was that everyone was taking photos here, cameras out all of the time, taking photos of everything. I just didn’t eel motivated to bring it out and shoot. I was happy with just having the memory of the experience.
How different would it be if I was covering an event? Would I be super pushy, or would I be passive? Maybe I don’t have the necessary qualities. There was a part of me last night that felt hungry, blood thirsty, ready to jump at the moment and attack the throats of the others who got in my way. But, at this point, those are only words, and will remain only words until the next opportunity presents itself.


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