Tag Archives: Constant Struggle

Notes From the Campaign Trail with Paul Ryan

Photographer Peter Bohler reflects on his first time out on the campaign trail with Republican Vice Presidential Candidate Paul Ryan.

Photographing a candidate is a constant struggle for access, between the Secret Service and the Campaign Press Office, there were a myriad of unspoken rules that I was constantly trying to understand and follow. article writing submission . Often, I would set up for a great shot, only to be pulled away just as Congressman Ryan got close enough to photograph. Rarely would I be given a straight answer, or told what to expect.

Once I was ‘in the bubble’ as part of the traveling press, life on the road was seamless. We were shepherded swiftly from bus to tarmac to airplane and back again, with meals provided at every juncture. The photography would have been straightforward, had I been content to settle for the situations and angles that the press office arranged for us. Ryan’s speeches became routine, and his words would echo in my ears just before he said them. I learned to anticipate the resolute pursing of his lips and the humble look downward that would precede an impassioned defense of his American ideals.

On the last day of the shoot, the Campaign Press Contact grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away from the media pack and onto the Campaign bus. I hadn’t been told when I might get access to the bus, but I knew that if it happened it would happen suddenly, and I was ready. On the bus I was in a different world it was the calm in the eye of the storm.Though we were in the center of the motorcade, it was easy to forget about the scores of police cars, the Secret Service, and the swarm of media that surrounded us.

The Ryan’s were surrounded by their family and friends, and laughed and talked easily. 7-year-old Sam crawled up and down the aisle of the bus his favorite pass time. Soon Paul Ryan and I were talking about climbing mountains in Colorado. He was friendly, warm, curious and accommodating.No matter what you think of his politics, he possesses a compelling magnetism.

Peter Bohler is a Los Angeles-based documentary photographer and a recent contributor to TIME.

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