Rodeo
Sunday afternoon, July, 1995
The Crystal Springs Ranch Rodeo, near Clear Lake South Dakota
Photo by Tim Schoon

With a seriousness like death row before an execution, cowboys pray in preparation for their turn in the ring during the bull-riding competition. If they can stay on for eight seconds, their score puts them in the running for prize money. If they are thrown, they go home empty handed.

I have always been struck by the faces of the cowboys before and after the bull ride. Before the ride, they are worried, maybe even scared; when the ride is done they are all swagger and bravado.

I spent the summers of 1994 and 1995 working as a photographer for the South Dakota Department of Tourism. I shot mostly rodeo action to fill their needs, but this picture has always stuck in my mind. To me, it's a look at the other side of the swaggering cowboy -- a side that is seldom seen...
photo and text © 1996 Tim Schoon



Swimming at Serebryany Bor
February 1996, Moscow
Photo by Amy Kunhardt

It was about 15 degrees out this Sunday afternoon when I had a chance to see a group of swimmers take to the icy waters. A winter dunk in the river "is good for the organism," one woman explained as she climbed out of the pool carved in the ice. Her pale flesh had turned red. She stood still, then raised her arms to the sky in a stoic salute to the sun. Minutes later she returned to the water.
photo and text © 1996 Amy Kunhardt





Vietnam Veterans Memorial,
Washington, D.C.
photograph by Larry Powell

"Kissing the Hurt" is from my book Hunger of the Heart.

Karen Rudel was seventeen months old in 1965 when her father was killed in Vietnam. Twenty-five years after his death she would come to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial with her two daughters, Abby and Ally, and her husband, Scott, to see her father's name etched on this massive monument. For me, the power of this photograph comes from the reversal of roles, wherein the child becomes the healer and the mother the healed.

This is a pivotal photograph in my slide presentation/video tape "Touching Memories," a seven-minute photo essay on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. Through my eyes, I hope to provide the viewer with a sense of the emotional release people experience during a visit to this monument. This photograph is also integral to another of my projects, "Women They Left Behind." This project incorporates music and photography with the oral histories of women survivors of the Vietnam War. As a photojournalist, I use the Vietnam Veterans Memorial as a unifying motif to draw together the disparate stories of women who share similar experiences, but who have never met. These women are mothers, wives, daughters and sisters of men killed in Vietnam. Through my images and the women's poignant words, this photo essay attempts to provide the viewer with a better understanding not only of the trauma felt by these women, but the trauma felt by anyone who loses a loved one.

You can see more of Larry's Vietnam Veterans Memorial work at: http://www.mindspring.com/~atlphoto/Wall.html or:
http://www.evansville.net/~randyman/larry.html
photo and text © 1996 Larry Powell
To contact Larry, send an e-mail to:





January at the Round Pond
Kensington Palace Gardens, London
photograph by David Rees

A youthful Queen Victoria dignifies the west end of the park. Peter Pan trumpets the east.

In between are walkways and open fields. A swell place for frolicking dogs (who get along).

The cold chill of blowing wet is England on a winter's day. The sky lightens, so does the heart of my wife, who is equally English and American and who has made a pilgrimage to this spot. The Round Pond's name describes its shape. Ducks and geese abandon their queue at the approach of human strangers, wildly insistent. It does no good. The swans will receive her favor and bread crumbs.

photo and text © 1996 David Rees





Hope, Kansas
June, 1989, 1:42 p.m.
photograph by Keith Mays

Eleonor Walker ran Hope's oldest gas station by herself until her husband retired from his mail route to help her out.

This is a photo from back in my newspaper days, when my wife Nancy and I spent six months visiting Hope, a small farm town in danger of disappearing.

I empathize with Eleonor, who was obviously a little shy about having her photograph taken. I think part of the reason I am no longer a professional photojournalist is because I empathized a little too much with my subjects.


photo and text © 1996 Keith Mays

 

 

 

 

 

 



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