Growing up photojournalist

Like most teenagers in high school I became fixated on finding my place in the world. I took to playing sports, but I lacked the aggression. I became a book worm, but have terrible reading comprehension. I even tried cooking, but I'm just not that kind of girl.

I felt useless. What on earth was I put here for? Definitely not to cook.

As the years went on, I got into punk music, feminism, started dying my hair ( awesome... ) colors, and picked up the camera my dad gave to me as a graduation present. I started with a lot of excitement, until I realized how difficult and smelly the job of a photographer was. Who the hell wants to stand in a poorly ventilated room that smells like rotting eggs, and OH NO! I spilled fixer on my favorite sleater-kinney hoodie, dammit.

So I brought my camera to everything... everything. I started taking photos for my friends bands, documenting my mothers cancer treatments, my first relationship, my changing life; whatever I felt excited, nervous or scared of, I photographed it. I got into experimental lighting, wide angle lens, and tried to emulate the photography style I saw everyday in our newspaper.

Then I landed a photo internship with said newspaper. I wanted to learn everything I could from these photographers - whose work I had followed religiously everyday in the paper. I became a sponge. I listened. I hardly ever spoke. These were the masters, the award winning, professional photojournalists who allowed me to refill the printer paper tray and recharge their flash batteries. I even got to shoot certain assignments, and received photo critiques from these pros. I was in all my glory. The amount of knowledge I walked away with from that internship was more than anything I could've asked for.

After that, I became a freelancer for as many places in the area that would hire me. I sacrificed relationships, I worked hard, I was a photographer.

2 years later I landed my first staff photo job at a small daily newspaper in central NY where I have worked for 3 years, recently winning my first Associated Press award. Now I am looking to take the next step in my career and move forward with self-training (and self-funded) multimedia work, going back to school or continue sharking jobs.

Documentary work is far from glamourous, and hardly pays the bills, but at the end of the day, I love my job. I know too many photographers who have lost their passion for photography and forgot why they got into this business in the first place.

The industry has changed, newspapers are closing, and staffers are being cut. Guessing what a job description will read for a staff photojournalist 40 years from now is just as exciting as it is pointless. Who knows, maybe we'll be taking photos with laser beams attached to our retinas, that will then FTP them to our newsrooms stationed on the twelfth planet in our solar system. or maybe not. I don't know. But regardless, I better be ahead of that curve.

Here is the journey from the start of my career as a professional photojournalist and onward. For your sake, lets hope I don't end up as a cook.