In late November of 2009 I travelled to a sprawling suburb west of Toronto to photograph the subject of a Running Times feature in the March issue of the magazine, which is now on the newsstands. Runners profiled in the magazine all have something special about them, but this one just may take the cake. The subject was 78-year-old Ed Whitlock, a legend in the world of running whose many accomplishments include a 5:41 mile in the second half of his eighth decade and a 2:54 marathon at age 73, both age-group world records. Amazing, right? But there’s more. Whitlock trains ONLY on a short (no more than 5-minute) loop in a graveyard two blocks from his home. He runs round and round in circles day after day, not varying his speed, just plodding along for an allotted time, which can be anywhere from 20 minutes if his arthritis is bothering him to 3 hours when he is healthy and preparing for a marathon.

You should read the full story to get a really good sense of Whitlock’s attitude and approach. The writer, who happens to be my husband, does a marvelous job of capturing his spirit. Better yet, pick up a copy of the magazine to get the full effect of the photos, which ran large with lots of room to breathe. (Above is an image of the opening spread.) Moxie Sozo did a great job with the layout. It reflects what Whitlock is all about: austerity and simplicity. I think this story is an excellent example of writing, photography and design working in concert. Too often in publications one of those three elements is lacking and it takes away from the impact of a story. For a photographer, there are few things worse than taking photos that you are happy with and then seeing them severely cropped or run postage-stamp size or covered with too much type in the layout. On the occasions when everything works well together, I get all warm and tingly and feel so glad and proud to be able to call myself a photographer.

The image at left didn’t end up being the opening photo because a horizontal worked better, but it’s still my favorite shot of the trip. This was one of those wonderful times when I had a clear vision of what I wanted to do and it worked out exactly as I wanted. Driving around the vast open farmland where Boaz runs multiple miles every day by himself, it occurred to me a portrait of him amidst the corn could be powerful. We headed out to do a portrait session just before his second run of the day as the blue gray clouds of dusk were forming ribbons in the sky. There wasn’t much time before it would be too dark. I pulled over where there were ample dried cornstalks and tall honey-colored wheat, set up a flash unit on a lightstand, added a small umbrella, set it slightly off to the side and within the first few shots could tell my vision had been fulfilled. Boaz, by this point, was comfortable in front of the camera and seemed to know exactly what stance and expression to take without me saying a word. It could be that he is a natural, but I like to think that we’d spent enough time together at this point that he was comfortable with me. I never take photos upon first meeting my subject. I like to get to know them first without that barrier between us and believe it makes for better photos in the long run (no pun intended). Boaz is running the Houston Marathon on January 17th. I will be rooting for him. He has not only put in long, lonely hours on the road, but he’s also an awfully nice guy—one that this country will be honored to call their own.

Sunset, Dec. 31, 2009

The sun seemed to be wishing 2009 a fond farewell last Thursday. The snow that had been lightly falling throughout the day stopped just in time for the brilliant pinky orange orb in the sky to shine brightly as it descended below the powder-coated trees. In the hopes that the sky would be clear enough to capture the blue moon rising, I dashed from field to shore. A blanket of snow covered the rocky shoreline, but the sky was filled with milky blue clouds. Still, it was a breathtaking scene. By the following morning the blue moon’s high tide had washed much of the sugary topping away. It was a reminder to me to seize more opportunities to make images. Wait a few hours, vowing to capture it later, and the whole scene may be different. So get out there you (yes, I mean you!), and carpe that diem!

2009 | 2010

]]> http://blog.staceycramp.com/2010/01/04/a-new-year/feed/ 0 scramp maxwells 2009 | 2010 http://blog.staceycramp.com/2009/12/30/got-cheese/ http://blog.staceycramp.com/2009/12/30/got-cheese/#comments Wed, 30 Dec 2009 18:22:22 +0000 scramp http://blog.staceycramp.com/?p=846 ]]> ‘Tis the season! For what, I don’t know, but that’s what everyone is saying. In this country it seems like it’s the season of excess. Even in this recession, people are out of control with buying inane stuff. I’m all about getting and giving useful, particularly perishable, gifts. This year I made organic Maine blueberry jam and rosemary and cracked pepper goat cheese. It’s incredibly easy to make both of these things. You can find instructions for any type of jam in a box of pectin. My favorite is Pamona’s Universal Pectin because it is activated by calcium instead of sugar, which means you don’t end up with sickeningly sweet jam. Basically, you heat the fruit, add a sweetener of your choice (honey and maple syrup are good non-sugar alternatives) and pectin, cook for a short while, put it in a canning jar and then boil the jar until it’s sealed. Simple as can be. (Sorry, no photos!)

The cheese takes longer, but is just as easy. Ever since Barbara Kingsolver’s book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle came out—detailing the ease with which one can make cheese—DIY cheesemakers have sprung up all over the place. I got the few necessary items needed for soft cheese making (hard cheese is indeed more complex and time consuming and I haven’t ventured into that territory yet) for my birthday and have enjoyed several batches of fresh soft cheese since then. The supplies are easily obtained through New England Cheesemaking Supply. Essentially, you heat milk, add some rennet, let it sit overnight and then drain it during the next day in butter muslin (fine cheesecloth). It’s that easy! It’s a great feeling to be able to serve and eat cheese you made yourself.  And if you can find a local source of fresh milk, all the better. I am lucky enough to know some local goat farmers that can supply me with fresh goat’s milk on demand! (This time around 2 gallons of the milk made 7 of these approximately 3-inch-in-diameter rounds.)

Making soft cheese in Maine in the winter is a bit challenging because it’s supposed to be over 70° when you’re letting the curds form and drain. On the day I made my holiday chèvre it was 11°. So I rigged up these little draining devices and put them on a radiator in the bathroom with the door closed. It worked quite well. The curds seemed to be the right consistency after about 8 hours. I extracted them from the cloth, mixed in some fine Maine sea salt, shaped the cheese into rounds and patted in festively colored fresh rosemary and cracked multi-colored pepper. Voilà, a perfect holiday gift!

]]> http://blog.staceycramp.com/2009/12/30/got-cheese/feed/ 0 scramp goat cheese finished goat cheese draining http://blog.staceycramp.com/2009/11/12/favorite-fall-film-photos/ http://blog.staceycramp.com/2009/11/12/favorite-fall-film-photos/#comments Thu, 12 Nov 2009 15:32:06 +0000 scramp http://blog.staceycramp.com/?p=791 ]]> Fall is my favorite season. I don’t think it was always that way. I wasn’t thrilled to go back to school or to rake the piles upon piles of leaves the maple trees strew across my family’s lawn when I was growing up. But as an adult, it’s ideal. The tourists are largely gone. It’s easy to find a place to be alone with nothing but the sound of rustling leaves underfoot. The light is golden yet subdued. The dark browns, deep reds and glowing yellows send me into color-driven creative frenzies. Something about spent vegetation is very appealing to me; it has more character, like a well-used pie tin. Here are some of my favorite shots from the past two months. Enjoy!

The crowd at the base of the Queensboro Bridge tries to catch a glimpse of the lead men's pack as it flies down First Avenue.

I shot the New York City Marathon last weekend for the combined Runner’s World/Running Times coverage of the race and the events surrounding it. Much like I did for the Boston Marathon, I shot and compiled several online slideshows. And much like Boston, it was a rewarding, but exhausting weekend. Okay, maybe a little more trying than Boston, given some ludicrous circumstances that I won’t bore you with, but that involve a certain hotel with a lousy Internet connection and lung-searing fresh paint fumes!

ANYWAY…back to the race. I started out at 58th Street and First Avenue where the runners first come off the Queensboro Bridge and enter Manhattan at mile 16 of the race. I’ve been at this spot in the past and even as a person who shies away from noise and crowds (such a natural choice I am for covering a 40,000-person race in the fourth-most-populated city in the world!), I never tire of the roar that erupts at this spot as runners come off that bridge. Almost makes me want to run the race. ALMOST, I said. How cool is it that all these strangers are cheering for you? You must feel like the biggest hero in the world when you hear that crowd.

The swarm of people that boisterously welcomed runners coming into Manhattan.

One of several Maasai runners in the race added even more color to an already dazzling foliage display.

Next I jumped on the subway and headed uptown to the east side of Central Park. It was actually much easier to get around than I thought it would be based on past experience. The crowds were thin between miles 24 and 25 of the course (a great place to watch if you don’t want to fight your way through mobs of people, but still want to be relatively close to the finish).

The two most important tools for friends and families of marathoners: a phone and a camera.

Then it was on to the finish, well, with a slight detour. I meant to head toward the finish but actually wound up near Columbus Circle, which is the half-mile-to-go point. (One of these years I’ll know where all those windy paths in Central Park go!) The crowds at Columbus Circle have been difficult to navigate in the past, but again, it was surprisingly sparse here so I took some shots before heading on to the finish area. This is where I met the inspirational “pan man” from Yankee stadium. Freddy, you rule.

Runners in the final half mile of the marathon cruise toward the finish in Central Park.

Eight or so blocks past the actual finish, where the runners file out of the park to meet their loved ones, I was meeting a fellow journalist who was going to help take down some information about the runners I was photographing for the Faces at the Finish slideshow. I calculated I had a half hour or so to take some shots in the immediate finish area before I was so late that he would hate me. It was a great spot to capture people in a range of post-marathon emotions…euphoria, exhaustion, misery and most frequently, relief.

The marathon can reduce even grown men into weeping babes, as demonstrated by Desmond Henderson of Ireland who sunk tearfully into a loved one's arms post-finish.

I’ve never seen so many spent looking people in one place, both physically and emotionally. It really drove home how hard running that far is (at least if you are doing it at a decently fast pace). Not that I would know.  A lot of people ask me when I am photographing events like this if I’m a runner. Many say “you look like a runner.” (And let me tell you, that is not a compliment. They might as well say “you have a flat chest, cavernous eye sockets, dangerously sharp cheekbones and a hard gaze.”) But I’m not a runner. Not really anyway. I often say “I used to be” because to me being a runner means competing in running events, which I did in high school and my first year of college and then sporadically afterwards until I took up cycling, which is now my sport of choice. My fragile frame has a hard time enduring the toll pounding the pavement takes. But I still know the euphoric feeling running can bring. And its pain and disappointments as well. Photographing this range of emotions is a way for me to live vicariously through people who are able to run 26.2 miles. And for that I am grateful.

LATE AUGUST: We visited my sister in Connecticut, where there were wildflowers, fog….

a bathtub in the woods…

farm-fresh fingerlings and a delectable stew…

LATE SEPTEMBER: I went to the Common Ground Fair (for the first time I’m ashamed to say). There were proud farmers….

and lovely food specimens…

I biked up to Bar Harbor from South Portland (yes, that IS 162 miles) with two wonderful friends over two lovely fall days. We spent the second night on Little Cranberry Island where my friend Kelly grew up. Her mother, Anna, whose picture should be next to the word hospitality in the dictionary, still lives there, as do some of her siblings, some of whom are lobstermen. They provided us with a dinner of the freshest, most succulent lobster ever…

The next day I had a couple hours to explore the island in all its golden fall glory….

EARLY OCTOBER: I traveled to Michigan for a Running Times shoot. There was a world-class runner, a crazy chapati-eating dog (photos of these curiosities to come in the Jan/Feb issue of the magazine) and corn, lots of it…

MID OCTOBER: Fall in Maine isn’t complete without a visit to an orchard. We chose Dole’s in Limington where there was a cat on a mission…

and a surfeit of the round red things….

Stay tuned for more adventures!

I spent two days with the reporter, Julia Moskin, visiting restaurants, markets and shops. We had a jam-packed schedule that usually allowed for about 30 minutes in each locale. This was an excellent test of my ability to get high-quality images in a short time period while working with available props and light. I sent in dozens of images and while the Times managed to run a large number (15 in the online slideshow, another 5 embedded in the online story, and 12 in the print version), there are, of course, some other images I really like that weren’t included. I thought I’d share some of those with you here. Hope you enjoy them!

(Full disclosure: the preponderance of Scratch Baking Co. images is because a) I had a lot of time there with unfettered access (the owners are my friends as I live a block away and worked there for a spell) and b) because I’m addicted to their bread and bagels!)

Selecting a bunch of turnips from Freedom Farm's stand at the Portland Farmers' Market.

Wild Maine blueberries from Beth's Farm Market for sale by Wealden Farm in the parking lot of Rosemont Bakery & Market.

Brian Pramick working in the bread baking area at Micucci Grocery.

Allison Reid, co-owner and baker at Scratch Baking Company, sprinkling flour on dough that will be shaped into baguettes.

Bagels at Scratch ready for the oven (foreground) and to be boiled (background).

Lou Slingerland puts seeds on Scratch's highly sought after bagels.

The Ring Ding a Ling, Scratch's creative alternative to the traditional Maine whoopie pie.

Erik Desjarlais, chef and owner of Evangeline.

Krista Kern Desjarlais, the owner of and chef at Bresca, with sous chef Courtney Loreg (watch out, she wields a mean knife!).

Last but certainly not least, Raleigh, very possibly the best dog ever (sorry, Clara), at Rabelais, a cookbook store devoted to new, used and rare books on food, beverages and gardening.

]]> http://blog.staceycramp.com/2009/09/17/nyt-outtakes/feed/ 4 scramp portland farmers' market Rosemont Micucci Scratch Scratch2 Scratch3 Scratch4 Evangeline Bresca Rabelais http://blog.staceycramp.com/2009/09/09/more-pretty-food/ http://blog.staceycramp.com/2009/09/09/more-pretty-food/#comments Wed, 09 Sep 2009 18:40:32 +0000 scramp http://blog.staceycramp.com/?p=643 ]]>

Even in this year of torrents, blight, pests and pestilence, the farmers’ markets are currently replete with late summer and early fall delectables. I think I saw husk cherries for the first time last year at the Thirty Acre Farm stand. This year others have them as well.

Randomly, we discovered one husk cherry plant growing in our garden recently. No idea where it came from other than possibly a stray seed that took root in the compost. What a nice surprise when we discovered what it was though! Husk cherries (also called ground cherries) are in the same family as tomatillos and Chinese lanterns. In fact, when I first saw the plant in our garden, I thought it was a Chinese lantern. But inside the green husks, which eventually turn papery and golden, are firm, marble-sized, yellow globes that are both tart and fruity. People often describe them as having a pineapple flavor. To eat them you just squeeze the stem end of the husk and pop out the fruit. I’ve only put them directly into my mouth as a refreshing treat, but apparently they are very good in salads and dipped in chocolate as well! There’s a good description of them here.

I’m experimenting with a new camera so did variations ad nauseam with these lovely things. Let me know which one you like the best!