RANGEFINDER
Volume 76 - Issue IV
RANGEFINDER
Volume 76 - Issue IV
Photo by Fuxuan Xin | MPW.76 | Kennett, 2024
Eleazar Yisrael
“Before I take a portrait, cause, you know, frame rate or whatever, I say, ‘Hey, close your eyes.’ I say, ‘I want you to imagine whatever said situation is,’ ‘I want you to imagine what this means to you and how important it is. On the count of three I want you to open your eyes, stare at the camera and tell me what it means through your eyes.’ One. Two. Three. Click. Click. Click.”
“I remember… just talking about Kennett, Mo., I mean, two different scenarios. You know, I’m doing a football story. I did it on the football coach, and, you know, I literally just met him, and we went over to, like, a little shed area, and I was taking a portrait of him. And he was like, ‘I didn’t expect this; I didn’t expect this.’ I did the exercise with him, and he just seemed so much more calmer. He seemed like he really, really thought about it, and he really got some insight from it. He seemed clear. Then, also, with a player, it was a really up close photograph with a player, and I could just see — it was right before a game — I could just see emotion in his eyes. And they won the game after [that]. It was the first win of the season.”
Matilda Hay
“In Kennett, when I’ve been approaching someone, I’ve been saying — well, it depends on the situation — ‘How long have you worked here? How long have you lived in Kennett?’ If there’s something that — if they haven’t grown up here — it’s like, ‘What brought you to Kennett?’ Or, ‘What inspired you to do this job?’ Like, I always want to know people’s origin stories, I guess. If you ask them a question about how they got to now, then you normally get a good bit of backstory, and then that gives you loads of avenues to branch off to.”
“I had a really personal project I worked on about women freezing their eggs, and I had a huge bonding with my main character in that just because I think we were a similar age, going through a similar situation. And so I think it was kind of asking her about her experiences and then saying, ‘Yes, that’s what I’ve [been] feeling,’ and really connecting because we had this kind of shared experience.”
“Sometimes the best question isn’t a question. It’s just a, ‘Tell me more.’ You don’t always have to have a question. Sometimes just even just kind of saying, ‘Oh, really?’ Like, you don’t need to ask. You’re just inviting them to tell you more and showing that you're listening so they feel confident to continue.”
Olivia Falcigno
I think that when we know each other more we can connect more. And, I think speaking to them like you know them and like they’re your friends already makes them feel comfortable enough to open up to you. And, I just really like everyone. I really believe that everyone could be a good friend of mine. I speak to them like they are my best friend because I think we know each other very well. I think we have a lot more in common than not in common.
“I was photographing a story for USA Today in New York City about the gentrification of Bed-Stuy. My editor said to me — the writer had said, ‘I interviewed the subject, but he’s not open to being photographed.’ He had this watermelon stand for the last 50 years. He has been cutting this delicious yellow watermelon, which I had never had before, and [my editor] basically said to me, ‘If anyone can crack him it’s you.’ And, that ego stroke was enough for me to try and go over there and try to loosen him up. So, I started by kind of like having the lens cap on my camera, and he explained to me again he wasn’t interested in being photographed. And then I just started asking him about his life and his kids. And, you know, a beautiful girl walked down the street, and so I asked him, ‘What kind of women do you like?’ And we started getting into it, and then he asked if I was married and had kids, and I said ‘Absolutely not.’ Eventually, I took one picture of him, and I showed it to him, and I said, ‘Oh, you look so handsome.’ And then he got kind of into it, and he was an older Black man, and I feel like those are just some really tough characters to crack sometimes, to crack, like, old Brooklyn men. Eventually, he took a liking to me, and after an hour, hour and a half of sitting with him and talking, he said, ‘Go into the dash of my car and pull out some sunglasses.’ And then he started posing for me.
Micah McIntyre
“My go to is kind of like a — it’s pretty similar to asking somebody else, ‘When you’re not at work, where will you be first?’ A lot of the time, the first question we ask in our culture is ‘Where do you work?’ And you talk about work more. And so as soon as you don't ask a question about work, or if that’s [not] your first question, it kind of opens people up, or if it doesn’t throw them off. It’ll intrigue them a little bit."
“I was doing a story on a Syrian refugee family near where I was living. It was about — he was dyslexic, and I wanted to do a story about learning disabilities and cross-cultural communication. His name was Hasan, and I went to his house and had a pot of tea. And, what really surprised me about our connection was our love of philosophy and philosophers. I was fresh out of philosophy of art class, so talking about, like, Nietzsche and all of these different people, and he’s like, OK.’ He got really fired up about the fact that we don’t know any Eastern philosophers, and so as soon as we got started talking about philosophy and different people in philosophy, he totally opened up on other things that he loved. I just happened upon the one thing he was really passionate about. I don’t know if that was the most light bulby connection ever, but after four pots of tea and three plates of dates… I was meeting his wife and his six kids. And, he paused me in the middle. He was like — three hours in, and he was like — ‘Can I call my friends over?’ And I was like, ‘Absolutely. Bring Abdul. Bring Rakhman.’ We talked for hours. I eventually closed my computer and turned the camera off, and we just chatted...It was surprising how that one, really niche connection just totally opened the floodgates.”
By Bailey Stover
CNN Digital’s Politics Photo Editor, Rebecca Wright, was shocked to learn her manager had selected her to attend this year’s Missouri Photo Workshop as a photographer.
“[My] initial feeling was, ‘Are you sure that you want me to do this? That’s ,like, 50 days out from the election,” Wright said. “I feel kind of guilty for being here, but I know that, obviously, I’m doing important work here, too, so that is worth it.”
Once Brett Roegiers, the associate director of photography at CNN Digital, assured her the publication could handle her absence — even with the United States presidential election less than six weeks away — Wright said she felt honored and thankful to have this opportunity.
During the 81st Pictures of the Year International competition, CNN Digital received the Angus McDougall Excellence in Editing Award. The award description reads as follows: “The spirit of this category is to recognize the best in visual editing by a media organization across all platforms.” Because the winner of this award — this year, CNN Digital — receives tuition to the workshop, Wright is representing the organization as a MPW.76 photographer.
Although she is currently a photo editor, Wright previously worked as a freelance photographer. She said she knows the effort required to generate her own ideas, cultivate relationships with her sources and perfect her pitch, all in the hope of finding the right home for her stories
“I’ve re-learned that this is what I really enjoy doing, which is a really nice feeling, even though it’s hard and frustrating and gaining access [can be difficult],” Wright said.
So far at the workshop, Wright said she has enjoyed feeling connected to the same community on which she is reporting. For Wright, being able to talk with experienced faculty members about her pitches — particularly discussing potential photographic “pressure points” and pitfalls — has been a boon. She said she appreciates being able to work the “muscle” of making photos in the field again since producing her own visuals normally falls outside of her current role’s daily purview.
“I hope to be able to tell a really meaningful story that I feel like I wouldn’t be able to do at my desk job as a photo editor,” Wright said. “And, it really has been a nice change of pace to just be out in the field talking to people. That really is the thing that I miss the most.”
Despite being only a few days into MPW.76, Wright said she finds the work fulfilling. Wright’s faculty advisors, David Barreda and Kim Chapin, approved her story yesterday. Wright said her dream jobs would either be leading a crew of photographers as their assigning editor or working as a photographer out in the field herself. When she returns to CNN at the end of the week, Wright said she hopes to “move the needle” at her publication with the goal of holistically telling more local stories at the national level using a framing that makes sense for her news organization.
“The team that I work on is incredible,” Wright said. “We really want and encourage people to pitch to us because, when we can do something, I feel like we do it really well, which I think is indicative of why the team won the award. And so, I’m really thankful to everyone who has pitched to us and the stories that we’ve been able to tell on our platform because there are so many eyes on us, and we are able to get that national attention and elevate stories when we have the opportunity.”
By Olivia Maillet
In the shadow of a passing cloud, a lady wearing neon green propels herself down the road with an electric wheelchair, her two tiny, leashed dogs leading her like Rudolph and Blitzen. Her mechanized chariot will pale in comparison to the streamers, banners and balloons littering the Delta Fair Royalty float. But, before the float passes by, the police cars guiding the parade must cross the intersection. Dunklin County Sheriff Bob Holder leads the cop cruiser crusade. Toward the middle of the pack, an overweight Smokey the Bear rides in the bed of a pickup truck. Two gleaming fire trucks trail Mayor Crafton’s golf cart. The intention behind putting a candy-apple-red golf cart in front of the ostentatious firetrucks is questionable. Instead of exuding supreme social status, the mayor’s golf cart merely looks dinky. Nipping at the firetrucks’ tires is the Delta Fair Royalty float, and one mustn't forget Tiny Mr. Delta Fair who gets to ride in a car by himself like a big boy.
Story and Photos by Olivia Myska
The Missouri Photo Workshop’s documentary team, alongside the photographers and crew, are an essential part of preserving the workshop’s history. Each workshop, the documentarians take it upon themselves to create a snapshot of Missouri towns, utilizing the fundamentals of journalism and embracing the opportunities for professional growth.
The documentary team is a seven-person crew, diving into the daily life of Kennett, Mo., residents. Together, the team collaborates on creating short documentaries for workshop participants to watch each evening. By the end of the week, the team aims to have produced one short documentary daily as well as a long documentary that encapsulates the workshop in its entirety.
Every morning, documentary team members arrive at MPW.76 headquarters, the First Baptist Church Family Life Center. They discuss their plan for the day and split into two groups: one that works on the long documentary and one that works on the day-turn short documentary. This year’s MPW documentary producer, Nevin Dubinski, said the two forms of documentary film making often have some overlap.
“Sometimes, the short doc we’re shooting has to do with the long doc,” Dubinski said. “But, we’re basically working toward those two goals each day, which can be kind of an interesting balancing act and an interesting production challenge on such a tight deadline.”
Dubinski said one of his goals for the week is for each team member to have learned at least a little more about the documentary production process by collaborating with one another to make the 10-15 minute documentary. The team will showcase this long documentary at the end of the workshop. Dubinski said he hopes his team members can be proud of what they make in the span of a week. He said what he and his team do can, at times, be a “meta aspect” of the workshop experience.
“We’re documenting the documenters because the workshop itself is an interesting part of this town’s history that’s gonna be taking place over this next week,” Dubinski said. “I think there’s a really interesting dynamic there, and it’s really important that we’re here to document what the actual workshop is gonna look like for future workshops.”
But what does a “day-in-the-life” actually look like for the MPW.76 documentary team?
The Delta Fair officially opened its gates to the public yesterday evening. To commemorate the beginning of the fair each year, the Delta Fair Board holds a parade that travels through the heart of town. The MPW.76 documentary members made it their mission to film this display.
The city of Kennett granted MPW crew members Sam Brusven and Jacob Luebbert access to the courthouse roof downtown. From their elevated perspective, the videographer and photographer documented the parade. Meanwhile, back at MPW headquarters, Dubinski helped produce the evening’s short documentary and edited the first two minutes of the long documentary.
As the documentary team continues to record special moments in both MPW.76 and Kennett history this week, its stories bridge the gap between the documenters and the documented. When MPW.76 comes to a close and crew members clean the last pieces of gaff tape off the floor, the historical record this year’s documentary team creates will still remain.
By Olivia Maillet
It is late afternoon, and from the southwest corner of the Dunklin County Courthouse roof, one has a perfect view of the parade moving through downtown Kennett, Mo. A Delta Fair-branded golf cart motors in a lazy zig-zag through the street, publicizing tickets at $4, $1 less than normal price. Children chase plastic bags that dance in the street, the same petroleum-based packages that used to hold grocery store essentials. In half an hour, those same empty bags will bulge like a beached whale filled with pounds of candy. The early autumn air smells like the aftermath of a Fourth of July fireworks show. To the northwest, a smoky cloud billows over the treetops. Who will find out what is happening? The view from the roof is not without burden.
By Olivia Maillet
On Torsten Kjellstrand’s first night finding subjects for what would one day become his 28-year-long project “Black Soil,” he found himself preparing to sleep in a room tucked away in the back of a Black church in Hayti Heights, Mo. As he tried to rest, doubts raced through his head. Were farmers in Hayti going to talk to him? Was he going to do something embarrassing or unintentionally offensive? What would happen if he couldn’t articulate the point of his story?
In 1993, Kjellstrand was a graduate student at the University of Missouri in Columbia, Mo. Despite his early fears that he would fail to find sources for his capstone project, Kjellstrand ended up photographing three families: Peats, the Richardsons and the Pullens.
“The first time I knocked on the door of the Richardson family, Joe Richardson, who was roughly my age, opened the door,” Kjellstrand said. “ He looked straight at me and said, ‘I have been waiting for you.’”
Kjellstrand’s “Black Soil” photo series is an exploration of the fragility of Black land ownership in the Missouri Bootheel and an intimate look at the hard-working people who live there.
Idris Solomon, during his Missouri Photo Workshop talk this year, said everyone will have the experience of being a minority in life at least once. As a Swedish immigrant, Kjellstrand said he knows he is a minority any time he’s not in his home county. When he walks down the street nearly anywhere in the United States, Kjellstrand said no one questions where he is from. So, being a minority as a white person in the predominantly Black community of Hayti Heights, Mo., was a new feeling for him.
“The people I was photographing knew more about me in my world than I knew about them in their world,” Kjellstrand said. “I scrambled to educate myself on the history of the area and how farm finance worked.”
Kjellstrand’s parents decided to move to the United States when he was just a young boy, settling in St. Paul, Mn. This city felt large to Kjellstrand, who spent the better part of his childhood on a farm in Bingsjo, Sweden. Bingsjo is a small valley village nestled near a forest. Kjellstrand’s grandmother grew up and farmed in Bingsjo, and Kjellstrand said her farm had “a bit of everything.” Sheep and geese grazed in the same field where potatoes and fruit trees took root.
Photo by Torseten Kjellstrad | Black Soil | 1978
Monique Richardson wants to go into the town closest to the family farm in the Bootheel region of southeast Missouri. Joe and Monique are two of the three generations who worked and lived on their farm until the late 1990s near New Madrid, MO. Monique is now a nurse working in St. Louis. Joe has passed.
By Olivia Myska
When first scouting out Kennett, Mo., as a potential Missouri Photo Workshop location, MPW Director Brian Kratzer wanted to use the local high school — specifically the Kennett Career & Technology Center attached to the school — to print the MPW.76 Rangefinder. With strict deadlines, the workshop’s daily paper reports on MPW’s inner workings. This year’s Rangefinder team is made up of three writers and one designer.
Regina Lee is Kennett Career & Technology Center’s graphic communications instructor and a member of the Delta Fair Board. Even though she had minimal knowledge of MPW or its mission to document life in towns across the state and prior to meeting the Rangefinder crew, she was “pleased to be asked” in assisting with the Rangefinder’s printing. Upon seeing the Rangefinder print, Lee said she was impressed by both the scale of the workshop and its participants’ dedication to documenting her home.
“I’m just amazed because I didn’t realize it was so big and there would be so many [people involved],” Lee said. “I’m amazed by what’s going on, and it’s sad that I didn’t realize it was there before. And, seeing it all in action, I’m just totally impressed.”
With more than 40 years of experience in graphics, photography and journalism, Lee is no stranger to the pressure of meeting a deadline. So, when the Rangefinder’s editor and designer raced into Lee’s classroom Monday afternoon after parking on the wrong side of the school, she didn’t hesitate to help. Thanks to Lee’s printer, this year’s Rangefinders are automatically folded and stapled, making distribution at MPW headquarters easier than ever.
Before becoming an educator, Lee had a previous career working for newspapers and expressed her love of the print medium as well as her worries about print transitioning out of journalism.
“I’ve worried through the years that we’re losing a little bit of graphics as far as newspapers because everything is online now,” Lee said.
Despite an industry-wide shift toward online-first coverage, Lee said the Rangefinder has restored her faith in news media — perhaps even serving as a reminder for herself and her students that print is not dead yet.
Kennett Career & Technology Center not only educates students in niche skills like graphic design, printmaking and screen printing, but it also offers its printmaking services to the local community. For example, she said people from all over town will ask her students to create wooden replicas of old family recipes. Lee said she hopes her class’ collaboration with MPW — particularly the Rangefinder team — will increase Kennett residents’ awareness of the high school’s graphic design capabilities and open her students’ eyes to future career possibilities.
“I’m glad y’all chose us so we can get our school out there ’cause so many people in our community don’t realize that we do things for the public,” Lee said. “Anything in here that is made, we can do it for the public.”
Photo by Masrat Zahra
By Olivia Maillet
Dunklin County may seem small fry compared to New York City or Bogotá, Colombia, at least until it comes to marching bands. Kennett Middle School’s marching band kicked off the parade, and Kennett High School’s brought up the rear. The town certainly knows the importance of good first and final impressions. Three majorettes decked out in bedazzled leotards, twirling tiny batons like airplane propellers, led the marching band. The squad was roughly four by nine tweens, some occasionally falling out of formation. It is a feat to concentrate on marching in a straight line playing a patriotic fanfare while trying to find loved ones in a crowd. Their heads seemed owl-like, swiveling frantically back and forth to search for friends and family. With walks like that, no law enforcement officer would pass them if they were to take a field sobriety test. Thankfully, these middle schoolers can’t drive — at least not legally. Dozens of Dunklin County marching bands follow, but none can live up these hometown pee-wee performers’ promenade.
Photo by John Stember | MPW.76 | Kennett, 2024