Meet "isolated"

I tried to make a picture of my mood. Do you think it is successful?

Meet an award-winning multimedia...ist(?)

I learned today (via Twitter, actually) that my LBC Gospel Choir project won first place in the Student Society for News Design (SSND) competition this year.

Announcement here:

http://ssnd.wordpress.com/2009/04/21/multimedia-winners-announced/

Analysis from one of the judges here:

http://www.innovativeinteractivity.com/2009/04/21/analysis-on-2009-ssnd-multimedia-entries-and-winners/

Hooray!

Nostalgia Friday: Beisbol Island

The summer of 2005 was the first summer I spent away from home and I spent it living in Boston. Well, technically, we were in Allston (Rock City!), which is squished right up against Boston and the only reason you can really tell the difference is that you're surrounded by crappy student-infested apartments, rather than Boston University buildings and facilites.

When I wasn't working part-time at a retail photo store or part-time at BU's Office of Photo Services, I was hanging out with the hooligans I knew and had grown to love through our time together at The Daily Free Press ("The independent student newspaper at Boston University," as well you know). A small herd of these gentleman decided to rent a whole house at 20 Wadsworth, which was just down an alley and across a couple streets from the basement apartment I shared with my friend John Tozzi.

As the summer drew on, their place became known to many as T'Wads a magical land of grilling and poker and hookah (pictured; just fruit-flavored tobaccos, I assure you) and the natural disasters party and who could forget the epic 5:30 a.m. spontaneous bike ride in the wide-open streets of downtown Boston. We were young and carefree and full of ourselves and determined to make every night one for the ages. My absolute favorite parts of that revered summer, however, were the lazy afternoons with Nils Reid, fellow DFP photographer:

[ shot on 3200 in a room lit by one wimpy little bare bulb. Hooray, grain. ]

For the bulk of the summer, we stuck to a fairly basic schedule: We'd work in the morning (Nils was a bike messenger...for most of the summer, at least) and return to Allston Rock City in the afternoon. I'd change and walk over to T'Wads, where Nils and I would turn on the Red Sox games (and possibly the air conditioning), set up the hookah and settle into our assigned seats (he had the arm chair, I had the love seat), maybe crack open some beers and definitely watch some baseball.

Some days, we'd talk about work or about the future or laugh about the past. Some days, we'd just sit there in silence thinking about how cool it was that the Sox finally won the series so the whole city of Boston could just relax already. One day, Nils and I got off on a random--albeit creative--tangent and created a world we called "Beisbol Island," which was further defined with the help of our friend Bob Henne. I couldn't possibly explain the intricacies of this creation in one blog post, if ever, but I can tell you that Beisbol Island has its own special form of sign language and if you're one of the few people in this world who knows what I'm talking about, you're probably giggling (Bob, this means you). I only wish I had a photo that truly captured the essence of Beisbol Island.

Anyway, Nils and I hung out most of that summer, being terrifically lazy bums. Yet everyday around the sixth or seventh inning, it would happen, without fail. We'd both be in our respective vegetative states, lounging and staring, and the faint but discernible chimes of the neighborhood ice cream truck would suddenly ring out across the neighborhood. Nils and I would always look at each other wide-eyed, like kids, knowing that if we didn't act fast enough, the guy wouldn't stop at our corner. So we'd bolt up off the couches and go from zero to 60 looking for cash and sprinting out the door, down the block to get our ice cream cones. We'd then walk back, grinning like we found gold, settle back in our spots for the rest of the game and talk about what an awesome summer it was, here and on Beisbol Island.

Meet Lucy, Mizzou's Piano Technician

Here is my video for the job profile assignment in Picture Story. As a long-time piano player myself, I really enjoyed working on this and was surprised by how much I learned. I thought Lucy had so many wonderful quotes; it was truly a challenge to get it down to this length. This is my first truly public attempt at video shooting and editing and my second overall. Enjoy:


Perfect Pitch from Phoebe Sexton on Vimeo.

Meet the rally cap

With Boston University trailing Miami (Ohio) 3-1 in the third period of the 2009 NCAA National Championship hockey game (easily the greatest game of hockey I (or anyone) have ever seen), there were certain things that had to be done. Jack Parker called a timeout. He then pulled the goalie with four whole minutes still to play. So I did what I could to help by donning the rally cap. Primarily a baseball practice, the rally cap does not easily translate into other sporting venues (I attempted to rock one during a Mizzou football game and it failed miserably on all fronts), but I think that Boston is a city that allows the rally cap whenever necessary, bet it a 2004 Red Sox playoff game or a slow Friday afternoon at work. Or a run at a national championship.

I spent the next three minutes with my fingers wrapped up in the band of my rally cap until BU scored a goal with 59.5 seconds remaining. I retrieved the cap from across the room and dug in again. With 17.4 seconds left in the game, BU erased a 2-goal deficit to send the game into overtime. After calming myself down from one of the greatest comebacks I'd ever witnessed, I anxiously tugged at the cap for the next 11 minutes of play, until Colby Cohen deflected the puck off a Miami player and into the net. Again, I flung my hat across the room while jumping up and down, yelling things and frightening the neighbors. What a fantastic ending to a fantastic game.

While a part of me wishes that I were posting photos from the game and the on-ice celebration, since I photographed the team for so many years (seven), I am also happy that I had a chance to watch the games of the tournament as a fan, wearing team colors, cheering and cursing when needed, and, most of all, that I could celebrate as fervently as my friends and the players did when we clinched the title. I didn't have to concentrate on snapping the soon-to-be-iconic jubilation shots or jostling (without falling) on the ice or meeting a filing deadline. For once, I just got to watch and yell and scream...and yes...cry.

Go BU.

Nostalgia Friday: Boston University Hockey

"Though you only get four years as a student,
you get a lifetime as a Terrier."
[ Joe Rouse ]

How exciting that my 100th blog post is about my beloved Boston University Terriers. I earned my undergraduate degree (BS (ha) in Photojournalism) from Boston University and spent a significant portion of my time photographing the men's hockey hockey team. I was able to photograph a lot of great players and a lot of great men out on the ice, got to see the transition to a new arena and my own transition to digital photography.

Some of my greatest friends, greatest moments and greatest memories are deeply rooted in the Boston University hockey tradition, and in honor of their appearance in tomorrow's NCAA National Championship game, I am posting images from my first full season covering the team as a sophomore and photographer with The Daily Free Press ("the independent student newspaper at Boston University").

These photos come from back when I shot with two rolls of 36-exposure film (ISO 1600) for an entire 60 minutes of hockey using a Canon Rebel (with absolutely no hint of a motor drive) and a 70-300 3.5-5.6 zoom lens (think about that for a minute). These are from the days of Walter Brown Arena and Section 8, of Faro and Mags and Fieldsy. That season was a crucial part of my college experience for so many reasons and, even though it was far from being a year for the record books, I loved every second of it. When it was finally over, I was so moved by my time in the rink that I wrote an overly-schmaltzy editorial for the Freep (and when a college photographer voluntarily writes an article, that's really saying something).

So anyway, here are some of my favorite shots, scanned from the original negatives (which were mailed to me by a kind editor who noted that with the vast digital archive they now had, they never looked at the film archives, which is sad, because there are so many wonderful images hidden away in those neg sleeves). I've included captions and some of these captions contain jokes that are only funny to those who were there for them and I hope you can indulge me in not explaining them all just this once.

These images are a record of where I, as a photographer, truly began.

BU's David Van der Gulik nets a goal in over-time at the University of New Hampshire that gives BU a spot in the Hockey East Playoffs.

Whenever I think of my first season of BU hockey, this is the image that flashes in my mind.

Happy that the season isn't over yet.

Goaltender Sean Fields flashes his glove save at the University of Minnesota's Mariucci Arena in Minneapolis.

Steve: "Hey, my parents had a layover here once."

Goaltender Sean Fields denies a shot from a BC Eagle at Conte Forum. (Remember the home & home against UNH at WBA when he let in 8 and shut them out the next night for the first time in several seasons?

...That was pretty awesome. (well, the second part))

UNH fans know their Hockey East history and come prepared to taunt Ryan Whitney and the Terriers about the 2003 quarterfinal mishap.

(I don't have the heart to recount that; just Google it.)

Freshman Eric Thomassian battles with a UNH player at Walter Brown Arena.

Captain Mark Mullen battles with a University of Toronto player as David Van der Gulik looks for the puck during an exhibition game in Walter Brown Arena to kick off the 2003-2004 season.

And let us not forget: BC sucks.

Meet a family

This photo is also in the previous post, but I think it is slightly buried and I wanted to highlight it because it's probably my favorite image from my time photographing Payton and his family.



Payton and his sister (who is wearing her Snow White dress) were ecstatic to see their dad when he came home from work that day and were climbing all over him (Payton is literally wrapped around his father's feet), asking him to dance and lift them up, swing them around. I enjoyed witnessing the interactions of this family.

Meet Payton

Here are some images from a story I did about Payton, a six-year-old who chose to be baptized (in his faith, the individual has to consciously decide, unlike other denominations that automatically baptize or christen babies). The loose thesis of the story was "the religious life of a 6-year-old"/"raising a Christian child." In addition to the baptism, I went back to photograph the family at home, Payton's Sparks meeting (it's kind of like the Boy Scouts, but centered on Christianity, learning Bible verses, etc.) and a few hours of his home schooling.

I enjoyed shooting this - I think there are a lot of parts of this story to which people, regardless of their current religious life, can relate. And I have to say that Payton was one of the coolest, nicest kids I've ever met.