The Images Around the Photograph

Two women holding skimboards watch a breaking wave from the shore in Laguna Beach on a clear morning.

I think one of the differences between simply taking a photograph and having photography become part of who you are is what happens after you take the picture.

It's easy to photograph a flower you like, an event, a friend, or something that catches your attention and then move on.

But photography has been part of my life for years, and I've learned something about going back.

You can pick up one old photograph and immediately remember, Oh yes, it was that time.

But look at the photographs around that photograph.

That's often where the story really begins.

Last Sunday morning, I went to what I still refer to as Aliso Creek Pier, even though the pier washed away years ago and was eventually removed after a storm.

laguna residents gather on the sand near a tall lifeguard chair and blue beach umbrellas at skim competition.

It was early—about eight o'clock—and Laguna Beach was blue.

The ocean was blue. The sky was blue. The shore-break waves were rolling into that steep stretch of sand that makes this such a wonderful place for skimboarding.

A men's and women's skimboarding competition was getting underway.

And when I started looking around—not just at the competition, but around it—that was where the story was.

Look Around the Photograph

There were umbrellas scattered across the beach.

Jeremiah Coffee had provided coffee for everyone, free of charge. Just coffee and paper cups waiting for people who had gotten themselves down to the beach early in the morning.

The lifeguards were there.

There were what looked like grandparents and young kids.

And dogs.

Oh my gosh, the dogs.

So many dogs, lined up rather respectfully with everybody else, waiting for the heats to begin.

And then there were the competitors.

Young men and women skimboarding through these beautiful shore breakers while an entire little community watched from the sand.

When somebody did something spectacular, everyone cheered.

But what stayed with me just as much was what happened when someone missed the wave or when the wave simply didn't cooperate.

People clapped then, too.

There was encouragement everywhere.

Women Encouraging Women

two women standing on shoreline holding skimboards morning watching wave in Laguna Beach .

One of the things I particularly noticed was the women's competition.

The announcer explained that in previous years the women's heats were usually held later in the afternoon, when the wind had come up and the waves were often blown out.

This year the women were incorporated into the competition earlier in the day, with the better conditions.

It was wonderful to watch.

But what interested me even more was watching the women together.

Women helping women. Encouraging each other. Watching each other's runs.

It gave me hope.

There is something refreshing about seeing encouragement happening right in front of you. These women were competing, certainly. The competition was healthy and strong.

And they could still want one another to do well.

Those two things can exist together.

Finding the Flow

I took photographs that morning, but I also made videos.

One of them keeps replaying in my mind.

Two skimboarders ride the same breaking wave toward the shore, moving almost side by side in the Pacific Ocean.

Two young skimboarders take off almost simultaneously.

They hit the water at almost exactly the same moment. They arc into the wave together. For those few seconds they look almost like synchronized swimmers, except they're flying across the water on skimboards.

Then they come out.

They take a few steps and look at each other.

And smile.

Yeah.

They got it.

For those few seconds they were completely in the rhythm and the flow.

I understand that feeling.

Flow is everything as an artist.

It's that wonderful point where you're no longer thinking about every individual movement. You've practiced. You've watched. You've learned. And suddenly the pieces connect.

A photographer can feel it.

A painter can feel it.

A musician can feel it.

Apparently two kids flying into a Laguna Beach shore break can feel it, too.

The Humanity Around the Event

The more I looked at these photographs afterward, the less the story seemed to be simply about a skimboarding competition.

Someone took the time to organize all of this.

Someone set up the heats.

Someone announced them.

Lifeguards watched the water.

A local coffee company brought coffee.

Families got up early.

Grandparents came.

Kids watched the older kids.

Dogs apparently cleared their calendars.

And people encouraged complete strangers from the beach.

Everyone was participating in a slightly different way.

That's the part I keep coming back to.

We are all part of a bigger community in this world.

As a photographer, I get the extraordinary privilege of watching it.

Sometimes the photograph I'm taking is the story.

People along the sunny Laguna Beach shoreline palm trees and red rescue floats on the sand and waves breaking nearby.

And sometimes the photograph simply tells me where to start looking.

Because if I look at what happened just before it, just after it, and all around it, I often discover something much bigger.

On this particular blue Sunday morning in Laguna Beach, what I found around the photographs was humanity.

People showing up.

People trying.

People watching.

People cheering.

People helping.

People finding their flow.

And then, for a few hours on a beautiful stretch of beach, all of those individual lives became a community.