Friday, December 4, 2020

Photo Story


 Portrait of a Young Alcoholic

Katarina "Kat" Patterson, 24, moved to the small town of Albany, Oregon from Sacramento, California after the death of her mother at age six. Along with her father and older sister they tried to start fresh in a smaller, quieter city close to family. However, a family still fractured by grief and the generational curse of addiction soon took hold over her remaining parent, and their deterioration subsequently led Kat into a life of substance use, homelessness, abuse, and crime from a young age and for survival. After years of turmoil, Katarina was sick of the chaos and forged a new path. However, alcohol still has found  As she tries to move past her trauma, Katarina is allowing a glimpse into the life of a 24 year old in the grips of alcoholism in a town not known for a lot of success stories. This is her story over the course of multiple days in November of this year. 

Katarina Patterson, 24, chugs a beer in the basement of her boyfriend's house on November 25. Today is her day off from her job as a cashier at a local grocery store. When asked why she still drinks instead of using any other substance, she responded: "It just does the trick. Do I wanna feel? No? Okay then, here's a beer. Do I wanna not have to worry about going to jail? Probably, so I just chill down here and don't drive. Plus it's legal, so I'm not gonna be charged with a possession if I just stay down here. I just work and survive. Just like anyone else pretty much."                                                                                                                                                            
    Also on her days off, Kat studies her GED prep book and gets ready to further her education. She says one beer while she's studying calms her nerves and helps her relax. "I retain information better when I know I've got a beer and don't have to worry about getting the shakes or the restless legs. I really like learning and I don't wanna work in some shithole forever. I got dreams too. Just a problem getting in the way of those dreams," states Kat. Kat continued to maintain a 4.0 average until high school, where her first boyfriend who was 17 at the time introduced her to the partying lifestyle. She says she just got "swept up, and fucked off the rest of my school opportunities. I didn't see the importance at the time."


Patterson takes a snooze while playing an older Playstation 2 video game at her residence around 8:30PM on November 25. Before her slumber, Patterson described how bleak it is for youth affected by addiction: "There's a whole generation of kids being lost to it. I feel lost in it. All these kids are out here hurting and as connected as we are  with the internet we are lonelier than ever. No one knows how to talk anymore. We just shoot a text saying "are you ok?" and hope they just say yes so we can go back to whatever we're doing. It's sick. You can't go to a store or watch a TV show without an ad for a beer telling you how cool you're gonna be if you just drink this. It's never gonna stop." According to the Center for Disease Control's statistics on alcohol consumption in the United States, approximately 95,000 deaths are attributed to alcohol each year. 1 in 10 deaths for 20-64 year old's of any race, socioeconomic status, gender, or sexuality can be traced back to alcohol consumption.


Patterson wakes up after crashing early from a night of drinking on November 26. She sits and stares at the wall for a while trying to "catch her bearings." "It gets a little spinny when I wake up sometimes." She takes a few chugs off a warm, unfinished beer on the night stand. Help for anyone, let alone youth affected by alcoholism (especially during a national pandemic) is scarce. Alcoholic Anonymous meetings run every day in Albany but most treatment is reserved for those caught up in the legal system, and detoxing from alcohol is what many describe as the most difficult first step in getting clean. It is also the deadliest part of getting sober. Alcohol withdrawals can actually be deadly without medical intervention,  and of the approximately 5400 detox beds in the state of Oregon are filled up 85% of the time by people withdrawing from opiates. Detox is first come first serve, and many addicts find it safer to keep drinking and stay well than try and quit on their own. 


Patterson leaving a store after scrounging up enough money to get a couple of beers. She says two "tallboys" as they're called (40 oz. cans) will last her a couple of hours. Most cheap beers sell for about $2.00-$5.00 per can. The walk home was bumpy, quick, and hurried. Signs of withdrawal include runny nose, sore muscles, shakes, restless legs, and depression. "My life seems like one big circle. Or loop. I go to work. Work all day, come home, grab a beer, drink that up, wait for my boyfriend to come home, drink a beer together, study for school, take my tests, drink a beer, find something to do until we fall asleep. Wake up. Repeat. There's more to life, I know there is. There just has to be. I can't keep doing this or I'm gonna die. I know it. People die everyday so why do I get to be so lucky and do this while others are out there starving? I'm sick of the same shit over and over. My mom didn't die for me to be nothing. I know there's more out there," Patterson states on the walk home. 
     The day of a functioning, young, binge drinker/alcoholic is not a rather exciting existence. It is day in and day out of struggling to survive, struggling to stay well, and struggling to stay afloat. For Katarina Patterson, she knows statistics are bleak but she's ready for change. She's had 3 years of sobriety at one point and knows it's attainable again, despite all the bleak statistics for young drinkers in this country. After finishing her GED she plans to attend LBCC (Linn Benton Community College) to become a veterinary technician. She knows she has to quit drinking in order to be the best student she can be. "I wouldn't have made it this far I don't think if there wasn't a light at the end of the tunnel. It's so easy to get trapped in the same mundane way of life that this seems like fun at first. It's all fun and games until it isn't. Then it hits you: You're just like everyone else, you're living on time that's borrowed, and you gotta decide if you want to go through life and remember it or not. It might not be today or tomorrow, but alcohol one day isn't gonna be a constant in my life. I'm gonna break free." 









Book Report

 


        Lynsey Addario's autobiography "It's What I Do," is a harrowing, gripping, somber, powerful, and at times humorous work of non-fiction that has so many twists, turns and events that it almost seems like a work of fiction or screenplay for a movie. Throughout the novel, Addario shared many personal anecdotes that were compelling and made one not just think, but feel exactly how she did while she was experiencing these tense and also sometimes joyous events. My personal favorite anecdote was Addario describing the difficulties of maintaining long distance relationships with not just her significant other, but entire family. It stood out for me because I want to do the same type of work Addario has done. Traveling all over the world, meeting new people, seeing how cultures are in different areas on the globe, and telling stories that need to be told no matter how tragic. All of this does not come without a price though, and although I want to get going on my career and zoom off to lord knows where, family is the most important thing in my life and I know how difficult it's going to be to miss out on birthdays, holidays, and other special life events. Addario helped give me some insight on shortening the gap  in distance at least mentally, and reassurance that I won't be forgotten about by the ones I love and in fact, as much as they might miss me too will be cheering me on from halfway across the world. 

    Addario's photojournalism style and technique is what some might say "unconventional." She is bold and headstrong where she needs to be, as she'll be walked all over in certain situations if not. This could be off-putting or make people not wan to be shot, but most know their creepy actions will not be tolerated and as recompense for their behavior will shut up and let the camera click. She can be soft and delicate with those subjects who need that in order to feel comfortable and uses her gut instincts when entering situations she may not be familiar with. Overall her journalism style is versatile, malleable, and adaptable to whatever situation she needs it to be. As mentioned previously, some might call her style unconventional, but when you're not allowed to speak openly or just walk in like you own the place just because of your birth gender, you have to be quick-witted and on your toes constantly to get the shot. Specifically, her "Woman of the Jihad" series is the most obvious example that comes to mind. The photographs of the women in Burkas at the mosque, or the young mother holding and kissing her young child without her burka or other coverings on in the privacy of her own home are shots that not even all women without the persuasive prowess Adario possesses could be gotten. 

    In regards to her pursuit and sense of duty for the best shot while in warzones, especially her being a female photographer in parts of the world that are less than kind to females in general could easily make people think she has a screw loose. However, when someone is just unquenchably determined to achieve a goal, or in this case document the real story of life that was happening at that time, I can completely relate to that sense of duty despite the danger. I am so passionate about the conservation of both African and Asian elephant species that I would go to either continent and be willing to lose my life or suffer extreme bodily harm in order to document and write about what horrors are happening there if it meant I could initiate some more relief or save some more elephants from a cruel death. So yes, I understand her duty, and also relate to people thinking a screw (or two) is loose from within our heads when it comes to that responsibility. 

There are a few lessons I took from this novel that I could use in my own photojournalism. The first one would be in regards to intense brutality and how to proceed with something so traumatic. Of course there is only so much one can prepare for (especially if you have lived a crazy life like I have so far) when it comes to things that are shocking, but I do think hearing how prevalent death was in certain areas of the world she visited opened my eyes to the possibility I will encounter that same trauma. I hope I never become so desensitized to something like that but now I am more prepared for it, and know it is a very possible reality. I think how I would shoot sensitive images would vary depending on severity of the scene, but now I know what to look for, what to aim at, what would bring dignity to the departed, and what would be too much, not enough, or just right amount of senselessness to open the viewers eyes to the world around them. Also, another lesson that wasn't necessarily learned but reinforced by Addario is the ability to ingratiate oneself into people or groups of people you think you would have nothing in common with in order to get a great shot. Of course no matter where a journalist is sent they should study up on the state, province, county, region, country, etc. they are being sent to with the culture, customs, and language in the forefront of your mind, but also how you talk to the locals is a huge factor. The easier you make them feel, and the more knowledgeable you are without sounding like a know-it-all can create an atmosphere where shooting pictures and documenting the scene won't feel like that to the subject or subjects, and the comfortability in their faces translates to the image well.

Some of my favorite photos come from Chapter 4 (the e-book doesn't have page numbers) which include the American Marines shaving outside of Sadaam Hussein's fallen palace and groups of men swarming around a loudspeaker listening to music in public for the first time in six years since the Taliban had banned it. Another one of my favorites is the first photo in the afterward of the refugees marching through the desert in Syria. These all stand out to me because they all represent different aspects and levels of freedom. The soldiers fighting for the freedom of others, the music playing and freedom being celebrated for all in the open, and lastly the refugees marching towards freedom and a better life hopefully. My favorite photo is the men listening to music for the first time. I can't imagine not being able to listen to music  publicly for 6 years, and I'm sure many more were too scared to listen to it in the privacy of their own home. 


    One quote that resonated the most with me from the author would be from Chapter 13 in which Addario writes: "Conversation only brought my fragility to the surface, and I preferred to keep it tucked away until we were properly released and in private..." It's funny to think that conversation would be what brings her vulnerability to the surface after enduring gropings, being bound, psychological torture and witnessing immense trauma, and even though she admitted to crying before when she was in dire circumstances, the fact that she's being released and getting ready to head home is the moment where she worries about seeming weak. I'm honestly not sure what to make of this, except for once again we see that Addario does not like to worry others or make them worried about her, and tries to stay strong and put on a brave face no matter what. 

    At long last, after finishing this intense, shocking, and emotional book, I would recommend it to others, but others who have a strong stomach. People forget what the state of the world was during that time period, and even though we as Americans were here and thinking about what we had to go through during 9-11, the suffering of civilians, soldiers and journalists alike across the Middle East in the years that followed must never be forgotten either, so the horrors from the government to its people, and from people to people in general must never be repeated.  


Thursday, December 3, 2020

Photographer of the Week Presentation

 Terry Richardson (August 14th, 1965) is an American photographer baseed in New York City but raised in Los Angeles, CA. His father Keith Richardson, was also a famed photographer in his hey day before succumbing to alcoholism which ended his career. He has become a fixture in the NY and LA fashion and art scene with his signature look of aviator sunglasses and handlebar mustache that he sometimes deploys onto his subjects. He is known for his sexually explicit and intimate portraits of celebrities or "normal" people doing things you wouldn't normally think of them doing or expect. 

He has shot covers and spreads for Vogue, GQ, Rolling Stone, and for brands such as Gucci, Fendi, and Tom Ford. He has shot celebrities such as Beyonce, Oprah, Leonardo DiCaprio, President Obama, and many more. 

His claim to fame is his  overtly intimate/sexual portraits of famous persons or ordinary people with a signature white background, flashy effect from camera, and (usually but not always) holding a prop or item and posing in a suggestive, sexual, raunchy, or out of the ordinary way. If not holding a prop the subject will still be usually be doing something out of character or near explicit that contradicts popular opinion/belief about who they are or what they do.  Raw is the word that many people use to describe his work. His photo style is easily recognizable and now replicated commonly. 

Terry has faced controversy and even allegations of sexual misconduct for his lewd photographs. He has been accused of molesting or coercing models into uncomfortable or unwanted sexual acts as a ploy to "get the perfect shot." However, it must be noted that there have been a few notable subjects, famous and not that have come to his defense. Magazines such as Vogue and Harpers Bazaar have stated they will no longer hire Terry Richardson to shoot for them. Richardson has never been arrested or charged regarding any of these allegations, and claims that every shot is completely consensual and not coerced. He is still working today and displaying exhibitions, mostly in New York City and Los Angeles. 











 


Tuesday, December 1, 2020

Week #7: My Hometown

Landmark: The "Big Miner and Burro" is a staple landmark on the west side of Albany, Oregon. Contructed in the early 1970's for a Lebanon, Oregon car dealership that stayed through until the late 1980's,  Steve Miller of Miller Spray Foam took ownership of it around then and sold it to the previous owners of South Pacific Autos (where it stands now) Russ and Brenda Sell. Currently, the statue stands at 30 feet tall, and despite some minor wear and tear and some rennovations in 2013 it has stood the test of time and become one of Albany's most unusual but gratifying landmarks. The current owners of South Pacific Autos, Ryan and Allison Swanson (Allison is also the daughter of the previous owners) say the statue "Isn't going anywhere anytime soon. It's been our main attraction for years and really gets people in here." The landmark has also been referred to as the "Loaner Ranger and Silverado" and is viewed by many in the neighborhood a "local treasure."

Derek Luneil, 23, of Albany, Oregon takes a pull (hit or drag) off of his nicotine vape while on break from work outside of the Heritage Mall, November 14. Soleim discloses he just recently moved here about two months ago and "needed to get away from Portland. It was just starting to get overwhelming. I felt so small and unimportant there." Soleim grew up in an even smaller town than Albany and liked the big city life for a few years, but got tired of the impersonal nature big cities tend to have. "I'm from a town that only has 3,000 people. It's not the most culturally diverse, but I like that I actually know all my neighbors by first name. Even here people call it a small town but it's really not."





Photo Story

  Portrait  of a Young Alcoholic Katarina "Kat" Patterson, 24, moved to the small town of Albany, Oregon from Sacramento, Californ...