The Reality of Getting that Perfect Battlefield Shot

Between the cars and the people, it's hard to get that perfect shot
at Gettysburg National Military Park in Pennsylvania.

I cannot tell you the number of times when, on a battlefield, I have found myself twisting, standing on my tip-toes, climbing up the back of a truck, laying down on the ground…modesty goes out the window in order to get that perfect shot! So, what’s the deal with all this moving around, changing positions, and pretending to be a “Stretch Armstrong”? Nine times out of ten, I am trying to avoid taking pictures of tourists who are taking vacation pictures. It NEVER fails…the moment I get a shot lined up, some inconsiderate, pompous person steps right in the line of my shot. Sometimes, the infiltrator is so far away, they are unaware. I’ve found that those who do that sort of thing close up typically do it on purpose. They are determined to be the next Mathew Brady of modern photography, and since you look like a professional, they stand in front of you to try to see what you are looking at…drives me nuts.

Of course, then comes the fun part. We’ve all seen them… the pages and pages of vacation photos on Flickr or Facebook. We are bombarded with them by friends and family members. They are random shots of just about anything – crooked landscapes, white-out skies, dark-faced monuments that have no recognizable features, family members standing on a cannon or a monument. Those of us that appreciate these places and spend a great deal of time trying to share their story through photography cringe at the sight of some kid riding a cannon like it was a horse!

Then one day, we get that dreaded question…you know, the one that makes you wish you had never picked up a camera…you know it’s coming when you start to hear the bragging…and then you hear this: “What do you think? Are they good?” Those of you who know me can imagine my response. I tend to be incredibly honest. However, until recently, I have not been able to tell someone that there images were horrible. Rather, I would say that I think their photos are exactly what they were intended to be: vacation photos taken to catalog memories. I would normally provide anyone who asked me that question with the same answer: “Oh, those are lovely! I’m sure your family will love them!” When giving that answer, I felt safe. Sure, their family probably would love the memories those images would conjure up. Furthermore, I did think it was lovely that they cherished their visit to a battlefield so much that they would take photos to remember their trip.

It seems to me that, as I have grown with my camera and my abilities to use it have developed, I have started to break away from giving people a false impression. If someone thought enough of me to ask my opinion, they expected the truth in my response. I am not a professional photographer. There are still functions on my Nikon DSLR that I have no clue how to use. I have no formal training, and don’t pretend to know everything about photographing anything. My approach to good photography is very simple: give me a photo that would sell on a postcard, and I will show you a great image.

I also believe that, as a Civil War battlefield photographer, I see these hallowed grounds with a different set of eyes than the casual visitor. I want the image to convey a story without words, just as I see it in that moment when the shutter snaps. Even the best author cannot replicate the raw emotion invoked by a photograph -- a landscape so beautiful, yet once such a field of carnage, that it makes the heart ache with pain for those who witnessed it.

I hope that every person who views my battlefield photography will find themselves left with a curiosity and desire to see these places. Once you have experienced a place like Little Round Top or the Crater, you will never be the same again.

Just as I have “grown up” with my camera, so too has my attitude shifted towards those pesky tourists. So now when someone asks me to evaluate their photography, I tell them the truth. I find positives about their work, encourage their creativity, and tell them to keep on visiting more and more battlefields. When someone steps in front of me, I stop and introduce myself, share my love for history, and make a new friend. I’ve learned that all the images that I have sold over the years doesn’t compare to the value of the kindness and consideration I can give away gratis. I’ve sold more images sharing my business card rather than my frustration.

Sure, I still get frustrated, but I have found ways to work around the people who have made the decision to visit these hallowed grounds. I always find myself hoping that the little boy climbing the cannon or the little girl standing on the monument will one day find a photograph that her dad or mom took of them long ago, and that the memories they made that day will encourage them to make another visit with their kids. Most importantly, those fond memories will lead to an appreciation of that battlefield, which will, in turn, bring about awareness. Hopefully, that awareness will cultivate a desire to help protect these special places.

After all, in the end, it is the desire to protect these hallowed grounds that put a camera in my hand in the first place!