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Cover story

Pictures of the Year 2005

Images, taken in moments, aim to capture meaning

Photo Gallery
2005 Pictures of the year

THOMAS JAMES HURST / THE SEATTLE TIMES

In Puthian, Hafeeza Zaheen, 25, at center front, keeps a cooking fire burning in her livestock stable, where family members gather throughout the day for warmth and community. Her 9-year-old son, Basit, second from left in green, has tuberculosis.


Editor's Note: Soldiers returning from Iraq; revelers making art in the Nevada desert. Wrestlers and warriors, firefighters and flying machines. All that and more are celebrated today in our annual Pictures of the Year retrospective, brought to you by The Seattle Times news photographers. We asked our photographers to share with you not only their images but their thoughts about making such images — the challenges and frustrations, the achievements and satisfactions. So take a look, read on, and have a happy New Year.

I don't know what makes us think that a two-dimensional image can reliably communicate what it's like to witness firsthand a slice of the real world, in all four dimensions. And yet, that's what inspires photojournalists: the hope of sharing what we experience.

What happens between that actual experience and your experience of viewing our representation of it?

We make decisions about what to show, what not to show. How to aesthetically present what we see. How to remain objective and at the same time choose what we think is important to say. How to achieve our goal ethically. Above all, we attempt to show reality. But that requires creativity.

An act of good photojournalism obliges us to filter out preconceptions — of our own, of editors and reporters, of viewers. It requires that we achieve a state of openness that lets us see what is really there, of heightened sensitivity that helps us discover the meaning, of alertness that helps us anticipate the best moment to make a photograph that will accomplish something close to this ideal.

In the great middle between experience and viewing, other human beings get to pass judgment on our images. They rely on their own feelings and on assumptions about how others will feel. They know there are some images that some people do not want to see, and some images that need to be seen. Their time to make decisions is limited, and so is the space. All the other photographs gathered on a particular day become competition, forming a temporal yardstick by which our image is measured, and its fate determined.

And there, at the receiving end, are you — the reader. Are you thinking about the image, or is your subconscious processing it? How many images have you absorbed today? How do you filter them to make sense of what you see?

Those who study human communication believe that 65 percent of the process is nonverbal, that our brains rely heavily on images to comprehend our lives. Intuitively, we all know this. How much do we "read" in someone's facial expression or body language? How much do we value the snapshots in our own photo albums, treasuring their ability to record and shape our memories?

Photojournalists realize it is an absurd notion: That we can occupy a unique place and time, make something while we're there to represent what we experienced, and come away feeling like you might understand what we were trying to say. But we think it's worth the effort.

— Tom Reese

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A baseball pitcher pumps his fists as he strikes out the last batter to win a game; a sailor is surrounded by his family as he steps off the USS Abraham Lincoln; a homeless woman says her last goodbye to her baby before he's taken away for adoption; a young man wipes away a tear as he cries in front of a judge while pleading guilty to murder. These are moments. Moments in time that I try to capture each day on the job. Moments that tell a story that helps the reader understand. It can be the simplest image or a complex one. As a photojournalist, it's what I look for to help tell a story.

— Mike Siegel

What makes a great photograph? A great image is less technical excellence and composition than emotion that moves the viewer. Good subject matter helps. In my home, the kitchen wall is littered with newspaper clippings of animals doing dumb animal stuff that provokes laughter, or sometimes sadness, but also a bit of wonder. Beautiful scenics, hurricane disasters and talking-head mug shots get recycled. But a squirrel doing anything gets space on the wall. I've seen my family pass over my serious front-page attempts at photojournalism for a photograph of a deer, a fish or a cat. It's laughable, but late at night over bowls of cereal, I often check out the wall with a chuckle, getting that warm good-news feeling before bed.

— Steve Ringman

While I was in school studying photojournalism, my teachers offered me many words of advice: Go to assignments early (and stay late), get close to your subject, always look for a unique perspective. Now as a professional, I use these lessons in my daily work. But the best words of wisdom about photography came from my favorite teacher, Mr. Kenney, on the elements of a good image. He said, "You may not always have the best light, and you may not always have the best moment. But you will always have composition." Whenever I find myself in a situation that isn't very visual, I'll remind myself of these words and know I'll always have control of at least one element of what makes a good image. It's a comforting thought for those of us in a profession where so much is out of our control.

— John Lok

The philosophy that's steered me through a newspaper career for more than 20 years is very simple: Always let the subject shoot itself. Meaning, the people and things in my pictures, captured in a straightforward way, will always convey more information and emotion to the reader than I possibly can through clever photographic ability. Stand back and let them tell their own story. It's about them, not me. And although photography can be creative, I see myself as witness, not artist.

My job is three-fold. First: Establish access to a subject, which is not always as easy as it sounds. Second: Give the reader context. Capture the key, often fleeting, visual moments and recognize any physical traits that may help tell the story. Lastly: Teach people that a photograph is never more important than what's in it.

— Ken Lambert

Photojournalism isn't easy to define, but I think I know it when I see it. Storytelling photographs capture moments of real life and allow them to be shared. They can't be created and certainly cannot be re-created.

Anticipation, preparation and perspiration can all increase a photographer's odds of producing an image that communicates. But the real key is opportunity: the chance to be in a certain place at a certain time.

Many images from newspapers and television are not photojournalism. Advertising tries to look real, movies go beyond real and Photoshop can disguise what is real.

Dorthea Lange had this quotation by Francis Bacon tacked to her darkroom door from 1923 until her death in 1965:

"The contemplation of things as they are

Without error or confusion

Without substitute or imposture

Is in itself a nobler thing

Than a whole harvest of invention."

We do a lot of photojournalism at The Seattle Times. I think you know it when you see it.

— Mark Harrison

I have spent more than half my life at The Times. My first newspaper job was at the Daily Olympian in Olympia at age 16.

Every day is different. When I get up in the morning, I listen to the local radio for what's happening. My car has a scanner that is on from the moment I get going.

The best part of the job is when we help out people. Poor people. People who have lost their jobs. People who have lost everything in a fire.

My life in photography has been very rewarding. I have met some really fascinating people. Scientists, actors, singers and just the guy on the street. I thank all of them for allowing me to photograph them.

I am lucky to go to places the reader will never see personally. I want to show them something amazing and unique.

I plan to spend many more years in photography. They will probably have to carry my cold body out the door.

— Greg Gilbert

Through my photography, I try to show readers what they may not be able to see. Being a photojournalist gives me a window to the world. Because of it, I have seen, shared and experienced so much more in my lifetime than I ever would have been able to had I not been a photographer. Every day I see something new, learn something I hadn't known, and live briefly through someone else's eyes, learn their stories, feel their joys, share their sorrows. I'm still such a kid, curious about everything, full of questions. Photography gives me an avenue to get answers to all out there that I can still learn about, still see, still share.

— Ellen M. Banner

The first photograph I ever took was of two children killed by a sniper in Bosnia in 1992. I was not in Bosnia to become a photojournalist, but at that moment I knew I would become one. In an instant, my life was given purpose. I would document the horrors of war and share them with the world, which in turn would put an end to such violence. As a young man I did not realize that this is not how the world functions. More often than not, we turn a blind eye to war. But every so often a powerful image is made which turns the tide or makes a lasting difference, and that is what I strive for.

My love for photography is rooted in the power a picture can possess. I dream of righting a wrong, helping those in need or telling a story that brings honor, glory and hope to the subject and those who would see it. Social injustice, poverty, war and a greater need for kindness are issues that inspire my work.

— Thomas James Hurst

In recent years, the technology around our profession of photojournalism has made great advances. It is possible for us to capture the news and transmit pictures to our paper more quickly than I could ever imagine earlier in my career. But with so many changes, our trade is still the same. We make storytelling pictures that capture the moments or convey the beauty of the world of light all around us.

When I first started making pictures for a living, I was often asked how I liked being a photographer. I would say, if I had all the money in the world, I would still spend my time making pictures. I still feel that way. There are many rewards for what we do, but the best is when I enter somebody's home and see one of my photos clipped out and hanging on a refrigerator door.

— Jim Bates

Photography is my ticket to the world. It concentrates seeing, sharpens it.

And working for the newspaper increases the responsibility.

What makes a photograph special is when light, moment, composition and storytelling elements all come together.

— Alan Berner

My most successful images result from getting close to the subject. I don't define "closeness" as "proximity." It's like this: I begin by thinking about what I know about the person or situation I'm photographing. I ask myself if my knowledge is based on fact or assumption. Releasing my assumptions results in more questions, bringing me closer to my subject as the unknown comes into focus. I hope my photographs provide visual answers or serve as a catalyst for the reader.

Sometimes the news is horrific, and my responsibility to see clearly is heightened, though holistically my role is the same. As a photojournalist, I have an obligation not to turn away from the truth, but to gain an understanding and to make purposeful photographs. It's both my duty and my privilege.

— Betty Udesen

I'm not a fisherman, but I think I have a good idea of why those who are enjoy the sport. I find the process of hooking a good photograph enjoyable for the same reasons; it's between me and my prey, it's outdoors (mostly), and it feeds my spirit. In fact, when a few days go by without shooting I get a little itchy. Over the years, going to and from the San Juan Islands, I've driven past the oil refineries near Anacortes but never stopped. When given the assignment to illustrate a story on the town, this was my chance to "fish" for the ultimate location, the right weather and best light to make this photograph. This "big one" did not get away.

— Benjamin Benschneider

Sports photography is so different than it was even 10 years ago. The advent of autofocus has greatly leveled the playing field for most photographers. Pretty much anyone with the right equipment can make a decent action picture. Also, many sports fans who pick up the paper the next day have seen the highlights on television numerous times. The challenge for me is to take it beyond a simple action photo — to take that 1/1,000th of a second and capture the story of the day, a slice of human emotion, and present it in a way that is unique and memorable.

Sports, like most things we photograph for the newspaper, is a human endeavor. Played by athletes, who despite their enormous physical gifts and sometimes enormous contracts, are still thrilled to win and pained to lose. The emotion of sports for the athletes, coaches and fans is real and palpable, despite how sanitized it sometimes seems on TV. Capturing the humanity of sports is an ongoing pursuit of mine. I have the best seat in the house.

After all these years there's still a thrill to seeing one's work on Page One. Then again, there's nothing more down-to-earth than stepping into the men's room and seeing your precious photograph hanging above the urinal.

— Rod Mar