Keeping up with the light

First thought: Oh, great, dancing. Second thought: Oh, great, a dark auditorium.

Assigned to shoot practice runs for The Dance Academy’s 17th annual spring dance, suffice it to say I didn’t jump for joy.

I don’t know a thing about dancing and the lighting in the auditorium seemed like it would make picture-taking a nightmare.

Often, and with little warning, the dark theater would be lit by a colorful array of stage lights. I tried to keep up — constantly adjusting camera settings for the changing lighting conditions.

And a flash would have been disruptive and distracting.

But it was great.

Photo opportunities were everywhere. Colorful dresses, excited youngsters, talented dancers.
I often concentrated on what was happening just off stage. The lighting was more predictable and there was a certain air of anticipation and frenzy that lay in contrast to the tightly practiced dance moves on stage.

So, despite my initial reservations, I left the auditorium a fan of dancing.

Anna Meyer and Taylor Eggers watch a practice dance from off stage at the Worthington Auditorium Tuesday, May 7, 2013.

Veasey Conway is the night editor at the Worthington Daily Globe. If you have questions about photography or visual media, or have story ideas, contact him at vconway@dglobe.com or on twitter @veaseyc.

Around six or seven years ago, I went with a friend up to Maine. Our destination was a small island off the coast, and  our invitation came from family friends of my friend. I was tagging along, I suppose.

The Maine coast isn’t exactly Nobles County, Minnesota. The former contains a strange mix of tourist-trap fishing hamlets, large vacation homes, and year-round residents who tolerate both the influx of summer people and winter weather.

Coastal islands might be Maine’s equivalent of Minnesota’s lakes. They are varied, plentiful, and provide recreational opportunities. Some are small and private, some large and developed.

The island we were heading to was called Marsh Island, and it was on the smaller side of the spectrum. One mile long, one dock, one house, a couple of sheds, and zero roads.

My friend’s friends were members of the Pierce-Slive family, and living on the island was the matriarch — Olive Pierce.

Olive was a photographer, grandmother and transplant from the Midwest.

I marveled at how she disregarded her old age. While my friend and I played catch, Olive was out cutting back poison sumac.

On our explorations around the interior and coast of the island, Olive would appear in various places — always tending to various upkeep tasks.

I wondered if she used a network of secret trails to be all over the island.

Equally enthralling to me was her photographic life.

Inside the island house I thumbed through pages of one of her books, looking up every now and then to steal a glance of the author in my presence.

But thinking back now, I should have looked out the window instead, since Olive’s book “Up River” centered on the very bay this island was situated within.

In grainy black-and-white pictures, Olive shows us the families who inhabit one particular section of this bay. If their work takes them onto the ocean in lobster boats, then the familys’ lives happen on land, and Olive chronicles both.

“I am convinced that it is only by reducing the general to the specific that we can make room for change in our own and other people’s hearts,” Olive writes, explaining her study of this gritty fishing community that could easily seem inferior or simple.

And, this, I suppose, is why I purchased “Up River” recently, despite having no plans to live in Muscongus Bay, Maine.

To see some of Olive’s photographs, go to http://library.duke.edu/exhibits/olivepierce/photos/

Veasey Conway is the night editor at the Globe. If you have questions about photography or visual media, or have story ideas, contact him at vconway@dglobe.com or on twitter @veaseyc.

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about oil. It’s a fascination.

Not oil in general, not OPEC, and not Middle East instability. I’m talking domestic oil. North Dakota oil. The Bakken.

You’ve probably heard the story by now, but here are the contours:

Vast oil reserves are now accessible in western North Dakota, attracting job-seekers from around the country.

The North Dakota oil boom story has everything.

It’s your classic American narrative of the rugged land holding vast riches, and of people setting out, trying to strike it rich.

New technology, mind you, has enabled this not-so-new story. Hydraulic fracturing –– “fracking” in common speak –– lets wells extract oil from areas previously inaccessible.

The oil flows, and money, too.

And where the money flows, the people flow, and where the people flow, the photographers flow.

In the airport the other day, I was grabbed by a front-page story of the North Dakota oil boom in Harper’s Magazine. 
The photographs were made by Danny Wilcox Frazier. I recognized the name from a photography project I came across a few years ago. In “Driftless,: Frazier had documented his native Iowa, focusing on how the economic downturn was affecting rural areas.

The pictures he made were personal, in emotion and distance.

Frazier’s more recent photographs from the North Dakota oil boom seem distant. Sure, we see that he was there and got his boots dirty. We see that life is rewarding but harsh out there. But the small set of photographs might not reveal the complexity of the Bakken boom.

You don’t see the people making six figures, yet sleeping out of their car because there isn’t enough housing.

Frazier’s pictures also don’t show that the state of North Dakota is putting away money now, hoping ghost towns don’t turn up at the end of this story.
 This one is different, the state says.

National Geographic Magazine recently ran a story about the Bakken, too, this one shot by Eugene Richards. Before frack drilling was happening, Richards was photographing abandoned homesteader houses that dot the Great Plains.
Richards’ own two stories are worlds apart — one tracing the remnants of a population exodus, the other, a modern day Gold Rush — yet are right next door to each other.

I am not a native of the Midwest, although in the past several years I’ve done my best to get to know the area. My upbringing makes me partial to large bodies of water, which orient my mental compass.

But there is something nevertheless appealing about the Great Plains. We are on the indistinct eastern edge. Travel northwest for long enough and, I’ve been led to believe, you’ll start seeing oil rigs.

There might not be much noticeable difference above ground, but it’s a whole different story below ground, where geologists and economists have conspired to make some places more prized than others.

I don’t mean to romanticize this topic either. The environmental and health effects of fracking are still working themselves out. The technique requires massive amounts of water, and local aquifers aren’t inexhaustible. The debate over these issues is still in its infancy.

But in the meantime, the rigs continue to pump, and job-seekers continue to head to the Bakken.
I’ll be watching out of curiosity as to what comes next.

Do you know someone who is working in the North Dakota oil fields? I’d love to hear their story.

Veasey Conway is the night editor at the Globe. If you have questions about photography or visual media, or have story ideas, contact me at vconway@dglobe.com or on twitter @veaseyc.

Hi, I’m Veasey. I’m new here. New to the Daily Globe and new to Worthington.

I’m your night editor – the one who assembles the pieces of the newspaper – photographs, articles, and everything in between. The nightly goal is to design a newspaper that conveys information, meaning, and context in the best way possible.

I started about a month ago, and I’ve already learned so much about journalism, and Worthington. These are intertwined, after all. The Globe provides a daily dose of the hot topics, whether it’s changes to the local library, the pool, or high school sports results. I cannot think of a better profession to get to know a community.

I often think of my position at the Globe as visual problem solving. Reporters submit articles to me, our photographer Brian Korthals drops off pictures, and Capitol correspondents file stories. It’s up to me to make it all fit on the page. Think Tetris – and you don’t know what size block is coming next.

My weekly column for the Globe will address this general topic from different angles. Visual media make up such a large portion of our lives and culture. We draw meaning, understanding, entertainment, and emotion from visuals. I’ll talk about photojournalism, graphic design, local photographers, or even highlight great photos of the week. And we will peel back the curtain, revealing the story behind great photographs.

My goal is to make the column informative for a local and regional perspective. How I reach that goal depends on what comes across my desk and eyes in any given week.

It’s ironic, perhaps, that this column is being written from the other side of the country. I’m at a photojournalism conference and workshop in New Jersey. Photographers, journalists, and storytellers from a variety of news outlets have descended on this airport hotel for lectures, panels, and seminars.

Lots of information, little sleep. If I’m able to retain even a fraction of the lessons and bring them back to Minnesota, I’ll be a happy camper.
When I return to Worthington next week, I look forward to picking up the several days worth of newspapers that are undoubtedly lying inside my apartment’s entryway.

And if you see me on the street, say hi. But be warned: I might take your picture.

Veasey Conway is the night editor at the Globe. If you have questions about photography or visual media, or have story ideas, contact him at vconway@dglobe.com or on twitter @veaseyc.