Dancing with the (local) Stars

Fundraisers aren't always photo friendly: You can only get so many pictures out of people eating and writing bids on gift baskets for silent auctions. Lucky for me, this Hospice fundraiser had something a little more interesting than a buffet.

Along with ticket sales, general donations, silent and live auction proceeds, each couple on stage had a box for the attendees to cast their votes. Each vote cost a dollar, and there was no limit on voting. The winner wasn't dependent on talent or even popularity, but how deep the pockets of the voters were. That's not to demean the event, that's just how it worked. Besides, the real winner was Hospice, not anyone on stage.

So, for the story and photos, go here. For a few outtakes, just look below.

But first, a note about one that made the cut: One of the photos obviously shows a flash, but it wasn't from my gear. There's something fun about utilizing borrowed flash when it happens and actually looks good.

This one's a favorite because of the way her hair is frozen in the frame. It wasn't sprayed up that way, she just came up from a dip. I'm not much of a dancer, but neither was this guy. Ironically enough, his song was "Bad" by Michael Jackson.

This time, I caught the dip instead of the moment after. I'm so used to getting as close in as I can, I thought I'd take a chance by experimenting with a little negative space. As it turns out, I liked it.

I considered adding a third photo to this post, but the only other ones I liked as much as these caused me to ask an ethical question involving underwear. I took the advice of my mentors and colleagues, Ron Allman and Bryan Moss, and nixed the photo. As much as I wanted to, I think erring on the side of caution is the smart thing to do.

More to come soon, honest. I've had several assignments in the last couple of weeks because the photographer of The Tribune has been on vacation. I just hope this week has bolstered my reputation, even if this influx of work is only temporary.

Arpaio visits Corydon

It's been too long since I last posted. Work is still remaining reasonably steady, but the last assignment I got really excited about was my first gig for the Louisville Eccentric Observer.

Don't pretend you're confused, it's LEO. You know, first reference and all that stuff.

Anyway, Sheriff Joe Arpaio was in Corydon, Indiana a couple of weeks ago. If the name doesn't ring a bell, he's the sheriff of Maricopa County in Arizona who makes his inmates wear pink jumpsuits, pink underwear, stay in arid conditions in old military style tents, and has plenty to say about immigration reform. He's 78 years old and mean as ever, but not like your grandpa. He was speaking at a fundraiser for the Harrison County Republicans. Cary Stemle, the writer of the story and the former editor of LEO asked me to tag along for the photos. I'd never worked for LEO before, and was excited about the opportunity to be published in the magazine.

After listening to a Bob Dylan CD I haven't yet returned to a friend, leaving the lights on in my car waiting for Cary, and getting a jump from a friendly local, Cary took me to the house Arpaio's reception was to be held. Cary made his way to friend's house in town for an interview and to catch up with her, and I tried to find my way into the reception hall. He told me about how he'd had difficulty getting access to Arpaio's speech at all, and how he had to purchase a ticket instead of being issued press credentials. Apparently, the Courier-Journal had issues getting their people in as well. It looked like I might have a tough time getting in as well.

I asked the woman at the front door of the reception hall to talk to whoever was handling press credentials, since I didn't have any yet. She dug out the man who appeared to be the press handler, and he initially said I wasn't allowed to come in. I explained to him if I don't go in to take the photos for the story, I've driven about 50 miles out of my way to do some work, requested the night off from my regular job and lose money in the process. Cary got on the phone with him and explained he'd been trying to inform the gentleman for days about me tagging along, but he hadn't answered or returned his phone calls. We finally worked out an agreement to allow me to photograph without having to resort to tactics reserved for paparazzi.

The press actually got something of a private session with Arpaio after his reception, which caught all of us off guard. Arpaio asked each of us who we were with. The Corydon Democrat's reporter got the same treatment I did:

He asked with his signature scowl, "What paper?"

In my case, "I'm Jerod Clapp with LEO, it's a weekly out of Louisville."

"Oh, that's not a real paper. Who's here with the real paper?"

He was either joking or just didn't care if he left a bad taste in someone's mouth. Either case is entirely possible.

The reporters didn't really have any questions prepared for such an event and winged it as best as possible, while the photogs kind of floated around snapping as much as we could. Here's some of what I came up with.

Part of me wanted to send in a photo of him that isn't something everyone else has already seen: He always looks grim and ready for a fight. His frown accompanies almost every headline he makes, but you can't help but think there has to be another side to him.

On the other side, though, I decided to send in photos reflecting what has earned his celebrity as America's Toughest Sheriff.

His tie tack stood out, though. Rather than a jewel or American Flag or something relatively neutral in nature, he wears a gold Glock pistol when he's not in uniform.

All of it kind of ties in with the persona he exudes when he's in front of a crowd. His hard-nosed facade may not be a facade at all, but there's always the risk of turning one's self into a caricature with his kind of approach.

Then, there's always the photos we take for ourselves. I'd like to share mine.

I still need to send in my W-9 for LEO. I hope this ends up being a long-lasting relationship with them, and I look forward to more work in Louisville's favorite alt-weekly publication.