Joe McNally - The Real Deal: Field Notes from the Life of a Working Photographer

Whenever your life intersects with a good teacher, a pathfinder, its a momentous and powerful occasion. For me, Professor Fred Demarest of the Newhouse School photography program was that intersection. He was calm, wise, and lucid, and possessed a bubbling chuckle that still reverberates in my memory. He was not charismatic or dashingrather, the opposite. He was a bit on the fuddy-duddy side of things, leading him to be called Uncle Fred amongst us students. But it was that very avuncular, considerate demeanor which was perfect to channel the unknowing, hubristic, inexperienced, raging id of one certain graduate student in his program, back long ago.

I was a writing major, thus not allowed by rule to take any of the upper-level photo classes. Fred made exceptions and created a path that, were it up to others, would have been denied me. He admitted me to the graduate level program when there was no real photographic evidence that such an admission would ultimately prove fruitful.

He channeled and redirected disorganized student-level ideas and impulses so effectively that I would leave his office with new direction and purpose, and pat myself on the back. Glad I thought of that!

He was direct and calm in his criticism. He understood the creation of bad work was necessary to find the way to good work, and he would weed wack through the thickets of my ineptitude to find evidence of potential that he could nurture and encourage. He didnt tear you down. He reassured. He would tell you it would be okay.

That was Fred. When I visited him in hospice, we had a good talk. He told me, Joe, Im not afraid. Ill be okay, until Im not okay. His words.

I made this picture of him as he neared the end of his life. It was an infinitely small way to thank him. He taught me about f-stops and shutter speeds, but he also taught me much about being calm and kind and patient. (It took many years for those lessons to really take root.) I miss him. He was my teacher. He was my friend. His forbearance is the reason this book exists.

Fred (I suspect quite happily) passed me, and ultimately the entire photo program, onto Tony Golden, another fine teacher, in Freds mold. Like Fred, he tolerated, channeled, inquired, and informed. He went on to run the department for many years, and it thrived under his guidance. We became family, and his boundless passion for photography and teaching stays with me to this day.

All of my schooling, youthful angst, and fiery misdirection landed me in New York City, camera in hand, eager eyes at the ready. A lifetime of mentors awaited. Too many to mention all told, but significantly, blessedly, I bumped up against formidable talents, so assured and confident of their own skills they were open and easy about sharing.

Danny Farrell. Thousand at 11, kid!

Jay Maisel. Light, gesture, color. Pretty much covers it.

So many others! Carl Mydans, Gordon Parks, Eddie Adams, Mary Ellen Mark, Paul Fusco, Dave Burnett, Maggie Steber, Wally McNamee, John White, Bill Eppridge, Mark Kettenhofen, Ari Espay, Neil Leifer, Hank Morgan, Carol Guzy, Matthew Jordan Smith, Dennis McDonald, Ami Vitale, Brian Lanker, Deanne Fitzmaurice, Bill Frakes, Bob Martin, Yunghi Kim, Heinz Kluetmeier all possessed astonishing skills and a willingness to share them.

Picture editors. Theirs is the often unnoticed and thankless task of giving you the right job at the right moment, and then shepherding the resulting pictures into the public eye. Guiding, critiquing, pushing, demanding, and, hopefully only occasionally, being clear about the nature of their disappointment. Dispassion is a requisite for a good picture editor. You might have gone through hell and back for a photo, but their job is to put your travails aside and bear down on the essential question of whether you infused that photo with emotion, impact, information, and graphical order. In other words, yes, you went through a lot in the field to bring this back, but does it work?

Editors who were excellent at isolating that crucial issue and asking that question have been formative for me. Larry DeSantis, Eliane Laffont, John Loengard, Mel Scott, Bobbi Burrows, Gen Umei, and Tom Kennedy were extraordinary at pushing a photographer to the next level and finding the unexpected eloquence of a take. They not only opened doors, but they also turned on the lights in the hallway of your next passage.

Jimmy Colton especially. Uncle Jimmy to many a beleaguered photog, he is never forgetful of the drafty, isolating, unforgiving nature of freelancing, and has always been there for the photographer in the field. He was the editor on one of my first big international assignments for