Faceless Portraits

One area of photography that I have been trying to explore in more depth is portrait photography. Not so much the studio style, but more the location kind. Our local club will from time to time sponsor a location portrait shoot which allows the members to get some experience and offer prospective models a chance to build upon their portfolio. They can be quite fun to do as the young ladies are very delightful to work with and to learn from someone with a lot of experience can be quite rewarding. But, there are other kinds of portraits that can be just as rewarding and possibly more revealing...I call them Faceless Portraits.

Over the past three or four years my wife Kris and I along with some other friends have worked with homeless individuals in our community primarily through her Blankets for the Homeless ministry. It has been quite a journey opening our eyes to another world most of us never realize even exists the way it does. As part of this ministry, opportunities to photograph these people have presented itself, but that can be a sensitive subject. Many of them, probably even most of them, do not want their photo taken for various reasons, and we've learned to honor that . . . always asking permission to do so. In some cases they don't want their faces photographed but are open to have their hands or feet . . . or maybe a tattoo photographed.

This kind of portrait can be extremely powerful if done correctly and with some sensitive thought. One of the more interesting homeless people we befriended was a woman named Melonnie. Always friendly, always willing to talk with us, but never allowed us to photograph her face. One of the most powerful images I've ever taken of homelessness is her hand portrait.

What makes it so powerful is the story behind the photo. You see, all of her fingers had been broken by her father when she was younger, and over the years of abuse and living off the streets, her hands had suffered greatly. The day I took this photo was a cold and wet winter day, and she was huddled under a bridge with tarps draped around to create an enclosure of sort to keep the wind out. Inside that confined enclosure was a small fire she kept burning for warmth. Her hands, and face were covered in soot, and her clothes were dirty and grungy. Even so, she invited us into her . . . home, offered to share what little food she had, even started to pour us a cup of coffee from the coffee pot we had given to her a few months before.

It was dark inside that enclosure with very little light except a small amount of ambient light from the flames of the fire and a little filtering in through a small opening near the top of the enclosing tarp. As she sat stirring the fire, I noticed her weathered and worn hands and asked if I could take a photo of them. She seemed somewhat amazed why I would want to do such a thing, they were after all rather dirty and her nails were broken and cracked. I said that would do just fine, so she sat the fire stir stick down and crossed them into an area where just a small amount of light reflected off the back.

The low light required a long exposure value and I had no tripod . . . there was no room for one anyway. So I bumped the ISO as high as I could realizing that there would be a lot of grain to the image, but that is what I wanted.  I held the camera as firmly as I could and fired off several shots. This one was the best.


Faceless Portraits can tell a deeper story than an ordinary portrait. They are faceless only in the sense that they do not capture the features of a person's expression, but, in this case, the face of homelessness could not have been more dramatically exposed.

Well-Dreamt...A Thru the Lens look at life...

Mike McMillan
Spotfire Images

I read something the other day that really made me think hard about a lot of things. It was written by a woman a few years ago when she was in her 60's about her dad who died of a stroke having never fully realized all the things he dreamed of doing. She summed up his life with these words: Well-dreamt...but actively unfulfilled. It was a moment that spurred her even at 60 years old to begin to realize some of the dreams she had always wanted to do, but seemed to never find the time to let them happen.

Well-dreamt...actively unfulfilled...the power of those words carry way beyond the simplicity of their individual meanings. In many ways those words could sum up a large part of my life. Certainly, I do understand that the events of life are more complicated than simply dreaming about doing something hoping they might come true...circumstances often interfere with or circumvent those dreams.

One of my earliest desires as a young lad was to become a smoke jumper (sometimes spelled smokejumper)...you know...those U.S. Forest Service guys who parachute into the backcountry to fight forest fires. It all stemmed from watching a great classic 1950's movie called 'Red Skies of Montana' starring Richard Widmark and Jeffery Hunter among others. It was a great movie...still is...one of my top 5 favorites of all time. For many years while I was growing up, I dreamed of adventures fighting forest fires with a Hotshot crew and becoming one of the elite as a smoke jumper.

As college grew closer those dreams still influenced my initial attempts at jump starting a college career...In the fall of 1970, I enrolled at Eastern Oklahoma State College with a major in Forestry with the intent to finish the four year degree at Oklahoma State University...and just possibly some time in the future after some experience on one of the Hotshot crews out west, being able to get into the smoke jumper program.

Scene from Red Skies of Montana

Our class consisted of a few more than a dozen kids...mostly guys but there were a couple of young ladies in the program. On the first day of class our adviser and Intro to Forestry instructor said this to us.

"There are about dozen or so of you starting this major. Only about half of you will finish the first two years...and probably only 2 of the 6 or so remaining in the program will finish the 4 year degree...of those two...maybe...maybe...one will actually get a job in the forestry field."

Mike McMillan
Spotfire Images

The demeanor of the class changed dramatically after that...by the next class several had already dropped out. I stuck it out for the first semester then, realizing the odds of successfully fulfilling that desire to become a smoke jumper were rather slim, I changed my major to something...well...how else can I say it...less exciting for sure...but safer in the long run....my life long dream having been dashed by discouraging words and circumstances of the times. I never made another attempt at following that path...never spent one day on a Hotshot firefighter crew...

Our adviser must have thought he was doing all of us a favor, apparently there just were not enough jobs with the Forest Service back then to go around . When I think back on it...what really happened was to see my first well-dreamt idea dissolve into my first actively unfulfilled reality. Back then I just didn't have enough information, insight, nor understanding about what all the possible options were (the internet did not exist back then)...nor did I really know what questions to ask to find out. If I ever carry one regret through my life it is that I allowed that circumstantial situation to change the direction of my life.

Over time the disappointment that stemmed from that introduction soften and life events changed and presented other opportunities...some of them proved rather adventurous...most of them rather mundane and pedestrian...none of them fulfilling the desires of my youthful exuberance. Although the events of the last 40 odd years have included a lot of ups and downs...over all I would have to say things worked out pretty well...just rather ordinary in most respects...but even today...when I make time to watch that old movie again those dreams from so long ago tend to resurface and I can only wonder...what if?

Internet photo - Mike McMillan
Spotfire Images

Well-dreamt...actively unfulfilled...I guess those words caused me to think more about all the old dreams that surfaced over the years but never did find an outlet...there are a lot of them actually...In most cases, the fault for them never being fulfilled lies only with myself. Those windows of opportunity stay open for only so long before time, age, finances, in short, life...causes them to close. Even so, it doesn't mean we have to accept defeat...new dreams...new opportunities open up all the time...its only when we dwell too long in the past and never look forward do we allow time and circumstance to catch up with us...and too often pass us by. The idea then, is to keep dreaming...and keep looking for open windows.

If we stop looking for new opportunities and we're not careful, before long, we might discover that we've dreamed away too many years...but never did anything to make them come true...and that is  truly sad. Even so, I still would have rather dreamed of grand adventures than never to have dreamed of them at all. Never taking time to do such things...well...just how actively unfulfilled could a life without those dreams really be?

Still dreaming...

Keith

Great Smokejumper website by Mike McMillan:  http://spotfireimages.net/index.html


Smokejumper Tribute video

Getting Away From it All..

Mid November in south central Kentucky can be one of the best times of year for exploring the outdoors. Although most of the fall colors have come and gone, there is usually some color that lingers well into the month. Because the trees have lost most of their leaves by this time, it opens up the woods making it much easier to see and the low angle of the sun casts long shadows across the landscape.  The temperatures can also be quite pleasant often hovering in mid 60’s and even into the low 70’s at times.

I recently purchased a new pair of hiking boots that required some breaking in so one lovely Sunday afternoon I made the short drive up to Shanty Hollow and made the hike up to the falls area. It is a great place to break in a pair of new boots as the trail provides a wide range of obstacles and terrain types that force the new boots to bend and flex. On such a wonderful day as it was, I expected to see others on the trail and that proved true as I crossed paths with probably the most number of people I’ve ever seen on this trail at one time.

You can always tell those comfortable with the outdoors from those who are not. The way they dress, the way they walk… tentative or overly aggressive…, are they carrying electronic gadgets or not, how loud or quiet they are. I found it interesting just how many different kinds of people I met that day on the trail. 

A group of  about a dozen or so college kids I heard coming long before I ever saw them.  Seems they don’t know how to enjoy the quiet…they must always be surrounded with noise and distraction…overly loud laughing…not nearly enough just enjoying the solitude. 

One of the group was wearing a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts and a tank top and untied sneakers with no socks…hardly proper attire for hiking...I figured he would quickly regret that combination after the sun dropped below the ridge and it began to cool off. Two of them were walking and texting at the same time…one was actually talking on her phone…and one was listening to some kind of music thru a set of earbuds plugged into his Ipod effectively cutting him off from the outside world…the others were laughing and hollering at every insignificant instance breaking the silence along the trial. The earbuds were at least an improvement over the boom box days when it was not uncommon for someone to think they had to serenade and impress everyone around with his or her taste in music.  

A bit further down the trail I ran across a family of four who were out enjoying the day. That was nice to see…except the nine or ten year old boy spent most of his time imitating an owl with a constantly loud hoot hoot hoot punctuated with an even louder whoooooooooooot at the end. Another group was being lectured by what appeared to be a rather loud self appointed tour guide who tried to impress everyone with his knowledge of the woods…after a brief discussion with him, I discovered he had never even been into that area before.

In past years I remember helping out with the Boy Scout troop camp outs that more often than not turned into a fire drill routine emptying a trailer full of noise making gear, chaos, more noise…complaints…a few yells…a few cries for help.  An hour or so later with camp finally setup a dozen or more young boys are let loose to inflict more noise upon the environment while the scout master and helpers sit back in a comfy chair and eat something. Well…I suppose boys are meant to be loud and scout masters are inclined to eat something…I wonder if the Boy Scouts ever thought about offering a merit badge on how to be quiet?

Seems to me some people just don’t get it.  First of all I’ll never begrudge someone who actually spends time outdoors for whatever reason…at least they are there and not locked up in some dark room playing video games somewhere. Yet, it seems too many people just don’t know how to leave all the noise behind. Instead, they want to bring along the chaos. Nature is so full of wonderful experiences why spoil it with Ipod music, why not enjoy the natural sounds and symphony of the outdoors, or why not look around and enjoying the scenery, instead of plastering your gaze onto your phone sending and receiving text messages.

I suppose I’ve never fully understood the noise thing…it could be an age thing or a maturity…or lack of it…thing…or it could be simply a lack of understanding and experience. I guess we all tend to fall back onto what is most comfortable for us when confronted with something outside our normal everyday existence.  Maybe that is why I tend to venture into the backwoods by myself…away from all the chaos…to find some time alone with my thoughts and the song of nature. 


When I encounter those with other agenda’s for their outing…well, I nod politely and move on to another location away from their self inflicted noise pollution. I can’t remember when I last camped in a public campground. You can probably understand why. We’ve probably all have experienced the late night arrivals who drive around and around several times shining headlights into every camping location looking for a place to setup…then when they finally do park go through an hour long series of slamming doors and loud vocal articulations about where and how to set up the tent…and the Coleman Lantern cranked up to full luminosity that floods seven other campsites with harsh light…or where is the beer…or any number and volumes of banging and clanging…then inevitably the boom box gets released …turned up…and blared outward for all to hear.

No…that’s not for me…not anymore...never was really. Give me the sweet sound of a little motion induced stream…the wind…the birds…the howl of the coyote, and the crackling of a campfire away from it all. I find great pleasure listening to the sounds of the woods…or prairie, to feel the sun and breathe the air unencumbered by the chaos of society. I must spend way too much time as it is absorbed by its influences…I certainly do not want to bring it along with me when I do find time to get away from it.