Remy did a story about raw milk for the Tuesday paper, so I went out on assignment to the two dairy barns on the island (got a flat tire on the way; that made for a much more eventful morning than I needed). The two farms are about as different as could be, as evidenced by the photos:
Yesterday I went along with our reporter to photograph David McCullough.
This was at once a fantastic assignment and a crushing one. It was fantastic because I very much admire David McCullough; I think we need more writers like him to make history more accessible to people. But it was crushing because all I wanted to do afterwards was tell my grandfather, who loved history in general and Mr. McCullough’s work in particular (particularly the John Adams book and miniseries) that I got to go on this assignment and see the house and the backyard shed where David McCullough does most of his writing (on a typewriter from the ’40s)…and, of course, I couldn’t.
David McCullough talked about his own grandchildren during the interview; he described being a grandfather as tasting a new food you’d never had before and realizing it’s the best thing in the world. And he also talked about how there is no such thing as the foreseeable future, a thought that I found comforting, even though on the surface those aren’t very reassuring words.
The interview was, needless to say, one of the best and most thought-provoking I’ve had the privilege of sitting in on, which was a good antidote to being completely overwhelmed by emotion during the hour or so we were there. David McCullough’s grandchildren are lucky, just like my cousins and I were (and are).
On a lighter note, I now hope to one day also have a neat little shed in my backyard where I can work on projects.
Or, studies in body language:
Jonathan Grigull collapses on the tennis court of Niantic Park in Oak Bluffs after his team won in triple overtime during the quarterfinals of the Vineyard Streetball Classic, held July 3, 2011.
Nainoa Cooperrider falls to the ground after being tagged out at first for the final out of the Little League Championship Game on June 25, 2011 at Veira Park in Oak Bluffs.
The Fourth of July weekend here is insane. I think it’s the biggest tourist weekend of the season, although the four-day extravagaza of the fair, the August fireworks, and Illumination Night later in the summer might give it a run.
But still, there are a ton of people here soaking up the Americana–and the sun, as the weather was absolutely gorgeous (my friend Erin stopped by for the weekend on her way back to Michigan, and spent most of her time at the beaches because I was running around like a maniac).
The parade in Edgartown, which is the main event of the holiday craziness, is generally kind of nightmarish to shoot because it’s impossible to get the names of anybody on the floats. I tried to work around this this year by shooting a few floats and then running ahead to the elementary school where the parade ends. But of course, by the time I made it back to the school, the floats I needed to have names for had already dispersed. Oh well. I had enough group shots and spectator photos (much easier to get names) to make it work (and we had another photog on duty).
I shot the entire parade with my 70-200mm, which was a change from last year when I was working with a wide-angle. In a way I felt like I was cheating because I wasn’t getting Close to the subjects, but I much prefer the look of these, with their nice separation, to last year’s. Some day I’ll be able to afford a wide-angle that can give me that (dream big!).
Edgartown becomes even more of a mess after the fireworks show, so Erin and I went to State Beach just outside of town to watch it. Then we spent most of the time messing around with long exposures. The photo I liked best was, of course, the first one I took.
I wish I’d come up with that headline, but my editor did. I had to use it, though; it’s perfect.
Boston Bruins president and former player Cam Neely raises the Stanley Cup over his head as he steps onto the tarmac of the Martha’s Vineyard Airport in Edgartown, Mass., on June 26, 2011.
Last year, I photographed the small nine-person graduation at the MV Charter School. This year I was instead assigned to the regional high school ceremony, which is about twenty times the size of the MVPCS one.
As always, a huge thank-you is owed to my cousin Texe, who helped me with names afterwards.
The principal broke out his guitar halfway through his speech and sang “Forever Young” to the graduates. Love it!
I got to go up in the sound booth at the end of the ceremony! This didn’t come out exactly how I wanted it to, but then again, I didn’t have a tripod up there.
Hooray for names being spelled right!
The Boston Bruins won the Stanley Cup last night! I’m very much a hockey bandwagon fan—I made it my New Year’s resolution a year ago to learn more about the sport—but even a newbie like me could appreciate this playoff series.
I got sent out to Oak Bluffs last night to do a scene story on people watching the game. I’m still trying to figure out how to balance writing a story with taking photos for the same story, although scene pieces are so much fun to write that I don’t mind the extra stress.
I took a bunch of reaction shots, one of which will probably be the one that ends up in the paper, but I like this photo, which was taken just before the game ended and Boston officially Won The Cup.
Boston Bruins fans Matt and Robyn Weston of Mashpee, Mass., watch the last seconds of Game Seven of the Stanley Cup Finals while at Seasons Eatery and Pub in Oak Bluffs, Mass., on June 15, 2011. The Westons were visiting Martha’s Vineyard on their honeymoon, and came out to watch the game with over 150 other patron at Seasons.
On Wednesday night, as the puck dropped for the third period of Game Seven in the Stanley Cup Finals, the streets of Oak Bluffs were, for the most part, quiet.
The real roar was inside Seasons on Circuit avenue, where the game was showing on no fewer than nine televisions and the nearing-capacity crowd had started cheering before the period had even begun, when the NBC broadcast flashed up second-period stats.
As the period drew on, the crowd pressed closer to the TVs, making it difficult to figure out exactly where the roar of the televised Vancouver fans left off and that of the in-person Vineyard fans began. The sound wasn’t consistent in nature—it rose in volume when Boston got a power play, and it made intelligible words (“MVP! MVP!”) when Bruins goalie Tim Thomas made yet another brilliant save—but it was always there.
By the time there were forty-four seconds left in the game, the roar was at delirium levels. There was no suspense left for the fans, or, for that matter, the teams; they knew exactly what was going to happen next. Boston had locked up the win three minutes ago with their fourth unanswered goal.
Time ran out, and the sound wave became a tsunami. A bottle of Corona was sprayed a lá champagne. In the back of the restaurant, a homemade Stanley Cup, crafted by Oak Bluffs resident Jack Holmes out of sauna tubes, tinfoil and “my salad bowl” was tossed around.
“Hockey’s just the most exciting sport, to me, “ said viewer Scott Carroll after the game, standing outside Seasons as the remnants of the volume explosion seeped out onto Circuit Avenue. Mr. Carroll had watched the first two periods from the comfort of his home, but came down to Seasons for the third because he “wanted to be in the crowd.”
“It’s just the atmosphere,” he continued.
Mr. Carroll wasn’t alone in wanting to soak up the feel of the evening. The Lombardo family—mom Carla and children Stefania, Giancarlo and Nadia—were visiting the Island for a weekend Chappy wedding, but came out to Seasons to watch history be made (the family made a quick run back home between periods to change into pajamas).
“We’re lifelong Bruins fans,” said Mrs. Lombardo. “To be here with my cubs [she paused midsentence to point out to this reporter her use of the word] is so important to us—you have no idea.”
Giancarlo, described his reaction to the win as “shocked.”
Mr. Carroll was less surprised.
“They worked so hard,” he said, “and the playoffs….”
He trailed off between sentences, searching for the right words, and the sound took over once again.
It’s baby season on the alpaca farm where I work, and as far as I’m concerned, very few things are more cute than an alpaca cria.
Except for piglets. Piglets will always win.
Here is a newborn piglet (it’s probably fifteen minutes old) from the FARM Institute in Katama!
And here is a minute-old piglet getting acquainted with its mom:
For more piggie photos, here’s a post I made last summer about the racing pigs at the fair last summer. They run through obstacle courses and jump into swimming pools!
