Tonight I shot two graduations.

Both began at 7 p.m. I didn’t know that; all I knew was that I was to go to one school at 7 and the other at 8ish.

The problem with covering two events that occur at the same time but on opposite sides of town is that I can’t do very well at either of them. But that said, I think I still did a decent job.

I was at the second school’s graduation, and I heard some of the kids call my name. It was strange to hear them say “Hey, Jason Whong!” because normally, I’m doing my thing, and people are mostly concerned about either staying out of the way of my lens, or mugging for it, or they just don’t notice I’m there.

I don’t do anything crazy, I think. I mean, I don’t do any tactical tumbling or combat rolls or whatever, but I suppose that my stance when I am trying not to block anyone’s view looks a bit like a commando. I walk like those people in the opening credits from M*A*S*H, keeping my head very low, taking a knee to stop and aim, then click a few shots and move again. The kids that had called my name were commenting on my style. “That’s awesome!” they said. My khakis are ripped at the knee, but I am not sure whether they were already that way before tonight. I do a lot of ducking.

Allen Barton or Alan Barton was the one that asked me to blog about him. I made a voice memo to myself, but left the graduation program in the office, so I don’t know how to properly spell his name. But I think it is one or the other. Allen or Alan, congratulations on graduating, and good luck in the future.

I’ve been consumed recently by an issue that I learned about through Metafilter: a wedding photographer in a very conservative town in Colorado said he was in a quandary over whether, if the question came up, he would shoot a gay wedding and risk offending potential straight clients, or refuse to shoot the gay wedding and risk offending gay clients, and possibly risking a discrimination complaint.

The photographer mentioned a recent case heard before the New Mexico Human Rights Commission in which a lesbian couple complained that a photographer refused to shoot their commitment ceremony, and while they did not demand punitive damages, they won reimbursement of more than $6,000 in legal fees, effectively penalizing the photographer for their decision not to offer their services. The Commission also found that the wedding photographer was discriminatory against same-sex couples.

I don’t like bigotry. I prefer to be kind to everyone. And frankly, I don’t let my religious views decide who I will be friends with, talk to, or conduct commerce with. So, if I were to become a wedding photographer, I would shoot a gay wedding. Because I would approach it from a photojournalist perspective, it would be clear that my presence at the event was neutral, just as it would be for a straight wedding. And if any of my future clients have some sort of “have you shot a gay wedding before?” litmus test, they are probably too dumb to be my client anyway.

But the more I thought about it, the more I came to think that there are two issues at play: the right of equal access versus the right of an artist to define the scope of their work. Specifically, I believe that the freedom of the press mentioned in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution includes the freedom to create works of authorship, as well as the freedom not to create works of authorship. I do not think it is constitutional for a law to compel any person to create original works of authorship (photos, poems, videos, plays, etc.) that express an idea that person doesn’t want to express.

So if a photographer doesn’t want to express support for gay marriage, what about a caterer? Do they also get to refuse service at a gay wedding, on the basis that they don’t do gay weddings? I would argue no, because the caterer provides a service that is not considered a “work of authorship fixed in a tangible form of expression” under U.S. copyright law. As creative as a chef is, and while the food may be called a work of art by some, it is not considered a work under the law. Images, on the other hand, are necessarily considered works of authorship under the law. My argument is very specifically about the rights of artists to determine what works they will and won’t create, and what ideas they will and won’t express.

It sets a bad precedent when a law compels the reluctant creation and publication of any work of authorship, no matter how well-intentioned that law may be. Just because a person takes money for their work doesn’t mean they should lose the right to reject a job because of the ideas they would be asked to express (which is entirely different than rejecting the job on the basis of a client’s skin color, gender, race, religion, etc.) If there is a photographer that only wants to create images of Catholic weddings, because they think all non-Catholic congregations to be heretical, and that creating images of them expresses ideas legitimizing the beliefs of the heretics, they should have that right. It’s discriminatory, but so what? There are probably wedding photographers who think that Catholicism is really paganism, and won’t create images of Catholic weddings. That’s fine by me, too, but it is probably illegal in New Mexico. And if it is your wedding, do you really want a photographer that is only there because you approached him or her and the law compels his or her presence? Or do you want a photographer that is eager to please you?

Federal law considers photographers to be similar to poets, writers, graphic artists, sculptors, musicians in that they are all people that express ideas as original works of authorship in a tangible form of expression. So if a wedding photographer can be compelled to shoot a wedding they don’t want to, it creates a precedent in which a person can be forced, by law, to communicate ideas they don’t want to. What’s to stop a later law from compelling a pacifist poet to write an ode to glorious war? What’s to stop a conservative commentator from being forced to write articles in support of liberal causes? Can a photographer or painter of the future be forced to create nude images against their will? Can a vegetarian musician be forced to do an ad campaign for the beef industry? Maybe a newspaper can be forced by law to report on something that’s not an issue they want to cover. Maybe an R&B artist can be forced to record classic rock?

If you read through the aforementioned Vanessa Willock vs. Elane Photography LLC decision by the New Mexico Human Rights Commission, you may notice the 27th paragraph under “Findings of Law”, which reads:

To the extent that Elane Photography’s arguments in this proceeding sought to raise questions as to the constitutionality of the NMHRA or questions as to an automatic preemption of of the NMHRA by the United States Constitution, the New Mexico Constitution or the New Mexico Religious Freedom Restoration Act, those questions are not before the New Mexico Human Rights Commission for determination in this proceeding, and, accordingly, are not addressed here.

Based on my non-lawyerly reading of this, I think it is possible that some part of the law that ended up penalizing the photography studio may be found unconstitutional by a court of law, if it is challenged. If it happens, perhaps you read it here first: the right to a free press includes the right not to be forced or penalized by law to create works of expression that you don’t agree with.

Technorati Tags: gay marriage, Willock v. Elane Photography, first amendment, civil rights

DVIDS, which is a U.S. military publicity unit, has a narrated video of an unmanned aerial drone engaging “Anti-Afghan Forces” in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

Part of why they released the video is because Pakistan says the U.S. killed 11 Pakistanis at a checkpoint during the bombing. The U.S. military released the footage so they could say that none of their bombs fell near structures of any kind.

I don’t know who is right, but I feel like I need to say something to the people at DVIDS.

Learn to use post production software, and have some common sense. If I am going to look at 5 minutes of video that has maybe two minutes of accompanying narration, spaced out, I don’t want to hear your respiratory system in between. Just because you are in the military doesn’t mean you can’t also have some respect for the medium you’re trying to use. It’s not like you’re working under enemy fire, and you have some excuse for not paying attention to your work. You’re in a postproduction room or an office.

This is not 1954. Video is not a new and mysterious medium. When you are trying to persuade people that you are right, you should do so from a position of strength. For people who make powerpoint presentations, it means to proofread the slides. For people who make video, it means fading the mic in between the voiceover sections so I don’t have to hear you breathe. Or better yet, learn to breathe silently. It’s not that hard if you aren’t a smoker.

Technorati Tags: DVIDS, U.S. Military, video production

The Washington Post has a nice 7-photo gallery of a naturalization ceremony held at Arlington Cemetery.

Can you feel the emotion of people becoming Americans? It’s pretty intense.

Once again, I covered the LPGA Corning Classic for the Star-Gazette, and I did it almost exclusively with the Canon EF 300mm f/2.8 lens attached to an EOS 30D. I brought along my personal camera, but only used it for a few shots with a wider angle lens during the tournament.

I keep saying that golf is more and more interesting each time I cover the tournament, and I think this year definitely threw us a curve. The night before the final round, there were something like 20 golfers that had a chance at winning, so despite having four photographers, we were really stressed, running around all over the place, eyeing leaderboards, and noting which names we’d not heard all weekend that were now only a few strokes off of the lead.

In the end it was Leta Lindley who won the game, beating Jeong Jang in a sudden death playoff on hole 18. It was my second playoff. If you want the nitty-gritty on how Lindley won, check out Joe Mink’s retelling of the playoff. Or if you want to read a heartwarming story, try Steve Jensen’s story about watching the end of the tournament with the winner’s children.

And now, onto my fave photos from this year. First, from the finish:

Leta Lindley reacts after sinking the game-winning birdie putt.

Mommy wins! Mommy wins!

The taste of victory is running down her visor.

Some generally pretty shots:

I like Anna Rawson’s caddie’s white beard, which shows up even when he’s far away from the plane of focus.

Jimin Kang lifts a boundary rope. This is the first time I have shot a golfer doing something other than reacting or watching a ball or swinging or taking a club or walking or smiling. It’s just an act of courtesy that most people don’t get to see.

Meena Lee gave me my favorite sand shot of the tournament.

Sometimes the light works out just perfectly. Katherine Hull hits from the rough.

Ji Young Oh tees off under a blue sky. It was the first time a blue sky showed up in the tournament, so I needed to record it. Luckily for me, the ball was in front of the shade.

My favorite tee shot of the tournament: Taylor Leon on 13.

At one point, I noticed that our paper had three photographers on Erica Blasberg, so I took this shot and went back to send it to the office. Since she was winning round one, that’s the one that made it up online. I think she was smiling because her caddie made a joke about all the photographers following her.

Paula Creamer in profile. There’s tape on her finger. I don’t know why golfers tape fingers.

Some people look for rainbows when the sun shines as rain falls. I looked for golfers, and found Hee-Won Han.

And of course, some random reactions:

Giulia Sergas; Mi Hyun Kim; Jeanne Cho-Hunicke; Rosie Jones; Paula Creamer; Paula Creamer again; Laura Diaz; Erica Blasberg Joe Fazzary (from the Pro-Am); a baby bird; a baby raccoon.

Technorati Tags: LPGA Corning Classic, LPGA, Leta Lindley, Jimin Kang, Hee-Won Han, Taylor Leon, Meena Lee, Anna Rawson, Katherine Hull, Giulia Sergas, Mi Hyun Kim, Jeanne Cho-Hunicke, Rosie Jones, Paula Creamer, Laura Diaz, Ji Young Oh, baby bird, baby raccoon, Corning, Elmira

I have met a gentleman around town named Caglar Singletary. He is a friendly fellow. I think I first met him at Grace Episcopal Church on the northside; after that I just began seeing him at many events.

Caglar is somewhat famous in some circles on the Internets for some songs he wrote back in the day. He was one of the subjects of a documentary called “Off the Charts,” which was about people who paid to have their poetry turned into music.

I have become fond of the songs that were in the documentary, so I was quite surprised to find the songs available on iTunes.

Clicking the button above will launch iTunes and take you to Caglar’s songs on the iTunes store. I have to wonder whether he gets many royalties from this.

Technorati Tags: music, angelaria, outsider art, novelty songs

Because I am going to insulate the walls of my house this year, I wanted to see if I could get a copy of the blueprints, or at least find out for sure which year the house was built. I also wanted to find out if my house was a home constructed from a kit purchased from Sears, Roebuck & Co. They sold house kits from 1904 to 1939. Mine most closely resembles a Fullerton in size and layout.

So, today I did a lot of walking in circles. It was pretty fun.

I started at the County Clerk’s office. Someone helped me look up the property in the County’s records, and she said the house was built in 1900, which would not make the house a Sears home. I asked if the record was actual or approximate, and she said that I should ask the City tax office because that’s where they got the record from.

I walked a few blocks to city hall. In the city tax office, they confirmed for me that the construction date often says 1900 when assessors and property owners don’t know the date of construction at the date of the last assessment. I asked if they had any building permits on file, and they sent me to the Code Enforcement office.

At the Code Enforcement office (which I drove to, because it was on second street), I learned that they only have records going back to about the 1990s, and any records from before 1973 were lost in the flood. So there would be no official way to learn of the construction date through them.

They suggested that I go to the tax office, who suggested that i go to another tax office, which was closed from noon to 1 p.m., and I arrived at the door at noon exactly. So I went back to the County Clerk’s office, this time to ask about mortgages. I wanted to know if the builders of the house had recorded any mortgages on the property, and if so, whether Sears was the Mortgagee. I found nothing there, but I did decide to look up the original deed written for the Harpers when they took possesson of the property, after it had been subdivided from Miller’s farm, from back in 1889 in the Liber of Deeds:

Neat, huh? Unfortunately, I was still no closer to knowing when the house had been built.

So I made one more stop, this time at the Chemung Valley History Museum.

We looked at a bunch of photographs of houses belonging to people whose last names began with H. It would have been neat to see an older photograph of my house, but since my house is tiny, nobody thought to take a picture of it and give it to the historical society.

We also looked at the city directory, which was a bit like a phone book, except it was written for a time when nobody had phones. It was a hardcover book, and listed names and occupations by residence. It also listed residences in order, based on if you were traveling down the road away from the city center, so you would know what the cross streets were.

It turns out that the nomenclature of our street has been somewhat controversial over the past hundred years. When we moved in, it was Collins Street. Then the city replaced all the street signs with one that said “Collin Street”. Apparently, 90 years ago, it was also known as Collin Street. I didn’t bother to check how long it was before the street became Collins Street.

On a hunch, I found the house in the 1936 directory. The librarian suggested I go by fives until I found a time when it was not in the directory, so I went all the way back to 1916 before i found that there was no 603 Collins between Baty and South. Then I moved forward until I learned that the first time my house showed up was in the 1920 directory, which the curator said was published in Spring of 1920. Given what I can guess about lead times for publication, and how snow is not good for construction, it leads me to believe that the house was actually built in 1919.

Unfortunately, I can not vouch for the provenance of whether this is indeed a Sears home just yet, because I have not read enough about the subject. I am planning to pick up a book about it, so I can read more. For now, I have a decent idea of when the house was built, which is not that far off from what the structural inspector said. And while it was built within the time frame of the Sears Modern Homes catalog’s publication, as well as being really close to the rails needed to deliver such a kit, I have a feeling I actually live in a knockoff of a Fullerton.

The Washington Post has a great article about how making ethanol from corn is bad for the environment and drives up food prices.

I have a friend who is a corn farmer and rather than being happy about the higher prices he gets for corn, he’s upset at the bigger picture.

I took some photos of firefighters carrying water up a hill to fight a brushfire the other day.

The funny thing is, these photos were supposed to illustrate a planned story about how brushfire season is starting. You can’t schedule this sort of photo op, so instead we were scheduled to go to a firehouse to take a picture of brushfire fighting gear. Then the call came in, and we high-tailed it to the location of the fire, which was up a steep hill.

I came home from this assignment smelling of smoke.

(on another note - I finally added the TidBITS superlative badge that I was awarded in 2000. It only took me eight years. It’s on the right, beneath the Mac OS X badges.