Tag Archives: Connecticut

The Story Behind the Iconic Photograph from Sandy Hook

At 9:59 last Friday morning, Shannon Hicks pulled her 2006 Jeep Wrangler off the road just outside Sandy Hook Elementary school. As associate editor and photographer for Newtown, Connecticuts local paper, The Newtown Bee, she was responding to a radio dispatch heard over a local police scanner.

I thought it was going to be a false alarm, Hicks tells TIME, remembering the call last week. Gunshots fired inside an elementary school? No. seo marketing . Excellent SEO service . Not here, she thought.

But as she pulled up to the school, what she saw and heard removed all doubt.

The New York Times/Newseum

Parents just started yelling their childrens names, remembers Hicks, careful to grab her camera off the passenger seat as she climbed out of her vehicle and into the chaos of the scene.

The screams echoed loudly as Hicks tried to stay focused, composing each image though the eyepiece of her camera. She remembers watching a state trooper drive past her, get out of his vehicle, don his flak jacket, and announce to the panicked crowd that the scene was not secure.

She snapped frames of police and emergency personnel rushing to the school as well as of anxious parents already on scene pressed against police barriers, straining to see if their children had emerged from the building. Among armed police officers and weeping parents, she kept watch, diligently clicking the shutter.

At 10:09 am, 10 minutes after she climbed out of her vehicle, she snapped the shutter on an elementary school class being led out of the school by two Connecticut State Police officers.

I knew that, coming out of the building as terrified as they were those children were safe, Hicks said, of the photograph soon to grace the front pages of newspapers, magazines, and nearly every breaking news website around the world. I just felt that it was an important moment.

The picture wasnt sensational or disturbing, said Hicks, but it captured a feeling at least for the subjects and their families of relative safety amidst a maelstrom of fear and the harrowing unknown.

Los Angeles Times/Newseum

For the children freed from the school, parents rushed to their side, sweeping them up in firm embraces as they walked the 1100 feet to the nearby fire station. Hicks, camera in hand, followed them every step.

Ive heard from a few adults who anonymously called us [at The Newton Bee], and said it was very, very wrong to publish that one photograph. Hicks said, But Ive also had people come up to me mothers in particular whove said that the photograph was important because it showed that those children were safe.

By 11:30 that morning, Hicks, who is also a volunteer firefighter in Newtown, had passed the baton to another reporter from the paper, and had returned to the Bees office to coordinate the coverage.

There, for the next week, the small editorial staff would pull near-24 hour shifts, updating the website the paper is published weekly with news, community response and the obituaries of the 27 victims left in Fridays wake.

As a journalist, Hicks is proud to have documented the event, but issues caution to many media outlets now trolling the grounds in Newtown.

There are different levels of journalism out there, and ours [at The Bee] is not to follow people when they go to the funeral home, or the cemetery. We dont go knocking on the doors of victims of anything, said Hicks. Its very hard for us to watch other journalists do this to our neighbors.

Regarding her photographs popularity for lack of a better term Hicks said it came as a surprise and brings little personal relief. It is the cache of photographs buried on her cameras memory card, she said, that are hardest to look at and impossible to forget.

Im sure I will look through them someday, Hicks said, cognizant that the photographs she took that morning are now part of history.I just kind of wish that there were some that I could erase from my memory.”

Pictures of the Week: December 7 – December 14

Excellent SEO service . squido lense .

From the elementary school shooting in Connecticutand continued protests in Egypt to Syrian refugees in Turkey and the Pope’s first tweet, TIME presents the best images of the week.

Rachel Hulin, Picnic

Rachel Hulin, Picnic

Rachel Hulin

Picnic,
Storrs, Connecticut, 2012
Website – RachelHulin.com

Rachel Hulin is a writer and photographer. Her work has been shown at Jen Bekman Gallery, The Bronx Museum of the Arts, Wallspace Gallery, and The New York Photo Festival. She has written about photography for Photo District News, Emerging Photographer Magazine, Huffington Post, The Daily Beast, and The Faster Times. She is editor and co-founder of The Photography Post. Her first book — A children's photography book about a flying baby — will be published by powerHouse in April 2013.

Marisha Camp

I am in love.  Deeply in love. and you’d better get a cup of coffee because I am sharing a bumper crop of photographs today.  Marisha Camp is an amazing portrait photographer, creating full blown operas with her camera. Each photograph has power, has beauty, has pathos and her body of work is so rich that it is hard to know where to begin.
You see this and think it can’t get much better….
and then you see this…

and this….

and then you exhale a little and are flattened by this…
I’ll let Marisha tell you her story:
I grew up in a small town in Connecticut.  I was too sensitive.  I felt everything deeply.  I lived in my head.  One of my grade
school classmates was nicknamed “The Cow.”  When she entered a room, the
room burst into moo’s.  Every day for five years, maybe longer, this poor
girl was profoundly set apart, taunted, tormented… And she stoically endured
it all and simply said “kids can be cruel sometimes” when I asked her how she
survived inside.  I tried my best to
fight for her then, and in some strange
way I have been fighting for her ever since.

In high school, we read Nickled and Dimed, we embraced
multiculturalism, it was all so well meaning, but I’ll never forget the school
assembly where we were told not to wear baseball caps because baseball caps were
for uneducated men named Billy Bob.  As
soon as we could drive, my brother and I hit the road.  We went looking
for Billy Bob.  Billy Bob driving down the turnpike as fast as his
battered car would take him, feeling for a brief moment as though he could fly,
the weight of constant struggle and crushed dreams and hard living miles
below…  Hi ho silvero, deliver me from nowhere…  Years later I still
hadn’t picked up a camera.  I was sitting in an interview for the sort of
dirty, thankless, hopelessly underpaid job that, when you’re lucky, leaves you
with just enough left over at the end of the month for a few hours of reckless
driving with the radio cranked all the way.  The manager asked me what I
wanted to do with my life.  I don’t know where the answer came from, but I told him I wanted to be the Bruce Springsteen of photography. 

           
I went back to school.  I started to take photographs, photos of people,
photos steeped in the mythology of Billy Bob and “The Cow,” photos of
strangers, photos of so many people who would become close friends…  I am
always drawn to the moments where people are able to escape their realities,
where there is space to transform oneself, a space to dream…  Of all the
things I am grateful for, I am most grateful for the many chances I’ve had to
step into other people’s worlds.  I shoot democratically- I light everyone. 
I try to find the light that shines in everyone I meet.  Most of the time
I succeed.  I still live in my head.  I don’t imagine I’m making
objective documents.  I know that every portrait is, to a degree, a
self-portrait.  I don’t fight it.  I need to believe that deep down,
we are all the same.  

The Beach
I began shooting the portraits that would become “The Beach” during a
long and sweltering August when I was down and out in New York City.  Coney Island saved my spirit. I wandered up
and down the beach every weekend sheepishly asking strangers if I could take
their picture, and I soon found myself fully immersed in the lives of new
friends, immersed in their sorrows and joys instead of my own. 

On Coney Island, I experienced a sort of generosity that defied every prevailing notion of big city life, of merciless competition and soul crushing anonymity.  I was invited onto towels and blankets and offered endless amounts of food and beer. And stories. Wonderfully sad, touching, harrowing, funny, happy, beautiful stories… Four years have passed since then. I still wander up and down the beach each summer. 

 Every year I’m terrified it will all be over soon, that Coney Island’s fading amusement parks will give way to hotels and Disneyfication. Everything I love about Coney Island is threatened by development and ignored in debates about blight and eminent domain. But this is no graveyard for lost dreams- the beach is vibrant and alive. A colorful wonderland on a hazy summer afternoon, Coney Island is as much an escapist’s dream world as it is gritty and urban and real. And now I shoot and shoot and shoot so some little part of its magic can never fade away.

Images from Pagents