My Bittersweet Blue Period

This past couple of weeks has been like riding a roller coaster from hell.

It all began with planning meetings for The Globe and Mail's recent project on the North, and the excitement of being involved with something so large, and with so many resources being poured into it.

(Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

Smoke from oil stoves heating temporary housing tents for workers at the Baffinland Iron Ore mine site at Mary River, Baffin Island, Nunavut. 

Then the proverbial shit hit the fan, and news came that three of the four staff photographers in Toronto would be getting layoff notices on Feb. 5th. Fawk!

There was no math to be done. No bumping. No uncomfortable union shit. Myself and two talented colleagues had essentially been shown the door. Another friend who has been working as a part-time photo editor is sadly gone as well, along with about 30 others. It was a sad, sad day.

Its a hard pill to swallow on the best of days, but to say it wasn't somehow expected would be a lie. I simply didn't think it would happen quite the way it did, and I didn't expect our department to be hit so hard. There will remain only two staff photographers for Canada's National Newspaper; one in Toronto and one in Vancouver.

"Oh well!" necessarily became my motto for the rest of the week.  There were only a few days left until publication of what would essentially be my last hurrah as a staffer at The Globe and Mail. I have been determined to accept the layoff for what it is and to maintain a positive outlook on the future. Thoughts beyond the coming days needed to be kept in the back of my mind, and if they did creep forward I didn't want them to compromise the work I still needed to do with a great team to make The North project as good as we possibly could.

(Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

Walrus hunter Nuna Parr's footwear is made from sealskin, which when sewn with traditional methods is waterproof.

I spent 25 days in November and December north of The Arctic Circle with Ian Brown. (Ian is @BrownoftheGlobe on Twitter) This was my second trip to document life in Canada's North and it was a spectacular professional and personal experience. [I wrote about my first northern assignment here.] Not only is Ian one of Canada's best writers, but he's a funny, thoughtful, and gregarious travel partner. We had a blast! [We last paired up while working on The Boy in the Moon]

Everyone who touched this work gave a fantastic effort, and it will forever stand out in my memory as one of those assignments that was done right from its inception through to publication. In the office I spent a huge amount of time with our web team and our newspaper layout designers. The new web publishing tool rolled out for  The Magnetic North on the web is brilliant thanks to them, and the paper was no less so impressive. If you haven't opened this link on a computer with a large screen I suggest you do so. It is a model we are all very proud of.

We also elected to return to larger photography galleries for this series and two from my work were published in similar formats. A Kaleidoscopic Portrait of the North and Twilight in Canada's North are the two titles of these galleries. I've been joking that this has been the "blue period" of my career. The incredibly unique, and very cool blue light in the north is half of that equation. The rest you can figure out I'm sure.

(Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

A young boy hides from the biting cold while his mother walks backward to protect her own face in Igloolik, Nunavut. 

In addition to the galleries there are also a number of videos that can be found here. These include a small compilation of the my first ever attempts at time-lapse photography. Feedback on the entire series has been extremely positive, and through it all I have received an incredible amount of moral support from friends and colleagues in Toronto, across Canada and throughout the globe. (That's the big blue ball in space I'm referring to, not the newspaper) For this experience I am forever grateful, and humbled by the generosity shown me in so many ways.

I doubt this will be the last of my work published in The Globe and Mail, but my career is about to take a dramatic turn. I am excited about the possibilities that lay before me and while I am determined to continue working on stories that matter to me, and to continue to work as a photojournalist, I will also be seeking out new challenges with photography, video and multimedia.

Journalism has always been my first love, and the reason I became a photojournalist. This will never change. But our evolving world has provided people in our profession with a wealth of opportunities in many, many areas and I would be a fool not to be excited about new challenges, new adventures, new techniques, and a new and varied group of people to work with.

Beginning in April I will be making images for which I will be the first copyright holder for the first time in my career. That is very exciting to me.

And so, I was laid off one week and published insanely well the next. Bittersweet indeed! But the sky is the limit from here on. Bring on the next 25 years!

Lac-Mégantic, Que

On July 8, 2013 I drove 875km from my home to join Globe and Mail staffer Moe Doiron and a small team of reporters in Lac-Mégantic, Quebec. Until Saturday I had not heard of this picturesque tourist destination on the edge of Quebec's Eastern Townships. But now, for me, and for countless others, this otherwise quiet town of about 6000 residents, will forever have a permanent place in our psyche.

In the early hours of Saturday morning a run-away train hauling 72 tankers filled with light crude brought hell-on-earth to the town's historic downtown. Media from across the country flooded to the small town to cover this story. The track configuration will certainly be a consideration in the investigation, as are the events that lead the rolling time-bomb to begin rolling down the steady grade from where it was parked in Nantes, about 20km away. The momentum alone of this mass of steel derailing in an urban centre is frightening enough, but the explosions, inferno, and a flowing river of fire toward the lake meant that people nearby never stood a chance. Officials estimate that as many as 50 people may have lost their lives, but the recovery process will be painstaking and lengthy. Many more residents were displaced for several days as the fire was brought under control, and the "crime scene" secured. Most were able to return to their homes by the end of the week, but many, still in temporary housing, will likely not return to their homes, if they are still standing, for weeks, or months.

A house still stands adjacent to the destruction in downtown Lac-Mégantic, PQ on July 11, 2013.(Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

For those whose homes are inside the screened steel fencing erected by the authorities it will be some time before they experience the emotional return to home and re-uniting with neighbours that we witnessed on the 11th. For many their homes are tantalizingly close but unreachable; peeking almost mockingly at them over the menacing black fencing.

This lengthy barrier, purported by authorities to be "protecting a crime scene," has screening that denies passers-by a view to the carnage beyond. On the sides where public, and media access, is denied, there is no black screening. But the Lac-Mégantic's residents are curious, as are the media, and now, there are throngs of tourists who have been flocking to the small town to catch a glimpse of their own of this disaster. For the media, who have had limited access to the site, the curious onlookers have themselves become a story.

Someone has elected to decorate the screened fencing in Lac-Mégantic, PQ on July 13, 2013.(Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

What hasn't become a story, and should at some point, is the fact that authorities in Lac-Mégantic have repeatedly done everything they can to inhibit the media, and the public, from witnessing the work being done beyond the fencing under the guise of "protecting the evidence." Photographers especially have been told repeatedly that "it is illegal to photograph a crime scene." Nonsense. Or, "it is illegal to photograph a body." Nonsense. It even became ridiculous to the point that photographers were denied the ability to approach residents to ask to use their balconies to secure a view.

The scope of this disaster is yet to be fully understood and absorbed by everyone who has been touched by it. The pain felt in Lac-Mégantic, and the healing that will take place over many years is certainly what is most important. In its scope and its impact, this disaster is unprecedented in Canada.

A small hand-made cross placed by local Helene Drapers sits at the front of St. Agnes Church in Lac-Mégantic, PQ on on July 13, 2013.(Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

What is not unprecedented is the methods used by authorities to stymie the efforts of a free media, in a democratic country, to gather information. Authorities in Lac-Mégantic have chosen to police morality rather than the law. They have taken it upon themselves to decide what images are gathered from the scene, and are attempting to decide for the media what we can or cannot publish in good conscience. This is simply wrong, and outside of their mandate.

Their concerns, that some media will publish something that is hurtful, or insensitive to the community are not without precedent either. But in my experience most media organizations historically err on the side of caution especially when it comes to image use. The instances where an organization consciously or inadvertently publicizes disturbing material are few, and is not the responsibility of the emergency services to control.

At one point, we the media were even asked, by a PR official, not to take images of people working on the site. What a ridiculous request to make.

What is almost as upsetting is the way every media outlet allowed this to continue without any real challenge. I know of only one photographer, perhaps a little motivated by a late arrival and the need to generate some fresh images, who challenged the top PR man, their policy, and their lack of authority to enforce it. Without the support of the mass of media present, which should have existed, this attempt was doomed to fail, as it did.

Police and forensic team members take a break in the shade of a home inside the red zone in Lac-Mégantic, PQ on July 14, 2013.(Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

It has not been lost on the media that much of the work being done inside the perimeter borders on the heroic. Many workers have fallen ill on the site. Long hours and exhaustion in the extreme heat have been a constant concern. Over time the horrible job many workers must endure is sure to take an emotional toll. But this is indeed part of the story, and should be told, in words, and in images. Asking residents to keep us off of their roofs, or suggesting that their insurance wouldn't cover an injury to a media person is, again, untrue, and beyond the mandate of authorities.

In a community that is coming together for strength, two women smile and clasp arms following a moment of silence at noon in Lac-Mégantic, PQ on July 13, 2013.(Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

Lac-Mégantic has felt this tragedy at its core. Many of us have witnessed the community coming together and showing great strength, and support. Compassionate acts of condolence have filled the memorial inside Sainte Agnes Church from near and far. I know that I have been touched by the kindness of the people I met on this assignment, and the strength this community showed despite such a great loss.

-30-

For more images from Lac-Mégantic, go to my personal website or The Globe and Mail.

Birth of a Notion

First off, kudos to the headline writer for this headline, "Amid the poverty of West Africa, the birth of a notion."

These words lead off a Folio centre spread in The Globe and Mail about a new program of free healthcare for expecting mothers and mothers of young children. Geoffrey York, our African Bureau Chief wrote the piece and the images are mine. Designer extraordinaire David Pratt did the layout.

So much of our work in the media involves bringing light to problems and difficulties around the globe. It's critical that we continue to draw attention to areas that need it, but it felt great to be able to help tell a positive story, especially out of Africa, and specifically Sierra Leone, a country that has seen more than its share of suffering.

While there is much to be done in Sierra Leone there is no denying that this dramatic step is a very important one. The program in itself is not without problems, and the long-term sustainability of it in such a poor country will be a question for some time.

In Somalia last September Geoff  and I witnessed a lot of death and suffering. I photographed a 7-year old boy who had just died, and his grieving family. Those are images that I feel need to be made, and stories that need to be told.

But I have to say that being allowed to photograph a woman giving birth to a healthy baby boy, and coming through it herself without issue at Princess Christian Maternity Hospital in Freetown was a real privilege, and one that I will never forget.

Ruby Williams, Matron, Princess Christian Maternity Hospital

Likewise I won't ever forget the smile and the generosity of Ruby Williams, the Matron of the Hospital, who took a lot of time during her hectic day to shepherd me around her hospital and patiently waited while I made images. Thank you Ruby.

Geoffrey York's story and links to a photo gallery and audio slideshow can be found at globeandmail.com.

Monrovia: Charles Taylor Found Guilty

Only minutes after the special court at the Hague announced it’s verdict in the five-year trial of former Liberian President Charles Taylor on April 26, 2012 a halo appeared around the sun as it hung almost directly above the crowds gathered in downtown Monrovia to listen and watch the news. Immediately people here began to speculate on the meaning of this strange, and rare, atmospheric phenomenon. If people were supportive or not of the former warlord seemed to determine whether they thought God was happy or unhappy with the court’s guilty verdict in the eleven counts against Mr. Taylor for crimes against humanity.

The day before the verdict the inside back page of The Globe and Mail – a coveted glossy paper space usually reserved for international news – featured an advance story by our African bureau chief, Geoffrey York, and two of my photographs. Yesterday we ran a double page spread of stories and images from the streets here as Liberians waited and reacted to the news.

Geoff’s thoughtful planning ensured we were here in Liberia’s capital for the moment that the Charles Taylor’s verdict would be read at the Hague. The piece in yesterday’s paper provided some background to Globe and Mail readers and spoke of the level of support the warlord still has here. There are many here who support Taylor. There are many here who do not.

I sent ten images for my photo editors and editors to choose from for Wednesday’s story, and in the end they chose as their main an image of a young man named Peter Tarr. When he was eleven years old Tarr was captured by Taylor’s forces and was soon carrying a weapon and fighting battles. His story is similar to other child soldiers during that bloody time in that he was later captured by opposing forces and then forced to fight against Taylor. Somehow he survived the war and became a member of President Taylor’s Liberian Army. It was during this time, while fighting some of Taylor’s opponents that he was injured twice; first by a bullet through his upper thigh, and later a gunshot wound to his right arm that required an amputation from just below the shoulder.

Tarr’s story is heartbreaking, but sadly, not uncommon in Liberia. Unemployed and disfigured, Tarr now spends his days, like many of this country’s child soldiers begging on Monrovia’s streets.

Remarkably Tarr has few angry words. He is unhappy that Taylor brought war to an otherwise peaceful nation, and that the years of war affected him, and so many others in such a negative way. And yet he seemed confident that justice would prevail. He was confident that if Taylor was guilty of war crimes he would be found guilty. If he was not, he would be found innocent.

In a country where many people seem to be judging Taylor based on the price of rice during his presidency (it was far cheaper then), this indifference by a grievously damaged young man like Tarr amazes me. Perhaps he is resigned after his ten-year struggle on Monrovia’s dirty streets and knows that neither decision in Taylor's case will change his fate.

Perhaps he is right.  Any damage that Charles Taylor, and men like him, could ever inflict upon Peter Tarr, and thousands like him, was done a long time ago.

But as several people expressed on Thursday, regardless of the verdict, Liberians may now finally be able to put this dark chapter in their lives behind them and move forward. 

[The complete articles and a gallery of images can be found on globeandmail.com]

A Delicate Balance of Respect and Boundaries

(This entry was originally published at globeandmail.com on March 17, 2012. It accompanied stories by Globe and Mail writer Lisa Priest about hospice care in Ontario). The original piece can be found here with links to two image galleries.

The Globe and Mail was granted access to Kensington Hospice to observe care provided to those who come to die and to see how people live out their final days.

Why hospices? End of life care is an important health issue, one that given the aging population, will grow in importance. About 70 per cent of people die in hospital, even though most say they want to die at home. Hospices offer something between those two worlds: they provide a residential, home-like feel with doctors and nurses for those who can't die at home, but for whom a costly hospital bed isn't appropriate, either.

Mostly, they come to accept what we all must: death. Their willingness to allow journalists to document that journey is a gift.

– Lisa Priest

Basia Hoffman hugs Kensington Hospice Social Worker Maxxine Rattner during a visit with her mother, Andree Hoffman, a few short hours before she passed away on Feb. 9, 2012.

There are few phrases more painful than “It is with a heavy heart.”

After the death of a loved one, these words most often mark the earliest stage in the grieving process – an intimate and emotional moment when family and friends are coming to grips with their loss.

For journalists, even though many have heard these words repeated several times throughout their careers, the emotional charge never seems to fade.

These emotions – pain, sadness, confusion, loss – make covering death and dying one of the most challenging assignments for writers and photographers.

The best way for a photojournalist to approach this kind of assignment is to draw on personal experience – to put yourself as much as you can in your subjects' shoes. This means trying to remember what it feels like to touch a loved one for the last time, to have them look upon you for the last time, and to desperately want more. To realize there is no way to fully prepare for that final moment.

For a recent story about hospice care, I found myself drawing on this personal experience, as well as the many stories I've covered in my career, where strangers have granted me the privilege of witnessing some of life's most intimate moments.

These experiences help when trying to approach people and families in the most unobtrusive manner possible.

And this is the point. You cannot, and must not, endeavour to work on stories about one of the most challenging times in anyone's life if your presence will in any way make those moments more difficult.

Before I introduce a camera into any sensitive situation I always try to introduce myself first. Meeting people in person allows me to better understand their situation, but it serves the more important purpose of helping them to understand who I am, my goals and my methods. These meetings might be brief, or may take hours, days or months depending on the subject, but for everyone involved they are critical.

At Kensington Hospice in Toronto my involvement started with a meeting. My goal was to build on the trust earned by my colleague, reporter Lisa Priest, to gain permission to come and go as the story required, and to establish rules so I could work in a manner that fell within their guidelines, and with constant consideration for all of its residents, not just those I was documenting. Lisa had already laid much of the groundwork for me, and so this meeting was very straightforward. The next step was meeting the families involved.

You never simply ask if you can take photographs of someone. To do so is risking immediate refusal. Photographers understand that visual storytelling requires a more sophisticated approach and I have yet to speak to an individual who does not appreciate the difference.

I have never worked on a story of this nature without believing that I can do justice to the story, and that I can do so honestly while preserving the dignity of everyone involved. This is what I try to convey in trying to secure someone's trust to participate in a story.

This is what I concentrated on during my initial conversations with members of two families with loved ones at the hospice. While I would always prefer not to rush into any story, time did not allow a leisurely approach to this one. While Marianne Kupina and her husband, Andrew McCarthy, weren't quite sure what to expect from me, they readily accepted what I proposed in terms of photography. There would be no posed portraits, but only real moments as they arose. Andrew, a handsome man, who, at 55 was dying of cancer, seemed all too aware that time was of the essence. After only a short conversation he simply looked at me, smiled, and said, “Well. Go get your cameras.”

Marianne Kupina spends time with her husband, Andrew McCarthy, at Kensington Hospice in Toronto on Feb. 7, 2012. Mr. McCarthy passed away on Feb. 20, 2012.

This rapid progression from introduction to working is certainly not the norm, and yet it did repeat itself the following day. Basia Hoffman, who had travelled from California to be with her mother, Andrée Hoffman, during her final moments, did not hesitate to allow me to be present in their lives. I think she was pleased that I hoped to find beauty in some of the moments that would be so sad. Where there is sadness in death, there is also love and tenderness.

While both families agreed to the presence of me and Lisa, it was still critical to have a frank and honest conversation. Not every acceptance comes so readily, but regardless, the initial conversations are when you lay it all on the line. This is when you try to understand the comfort level of each individual, improve it if you can, or at least determine how their comfort level might change over time. I try to establish a starting point with an understanding that the rules might evolve.

I would never photograph, or use images from a moment, that in anyway betrays the trust that people grant me. Only by being present, aware, flexible and sensitive, are you able to make photographs of those tender moments that will enhance the readers' understanding of your subjects' true experience. It is this trust that you hope for, and this trust that will allow you to be present when it really matters.

But you also need to know when to draw the line. You need to know when to back off, when to get close, and when to stop shooting. There may be moments when you are unsure of how to proceed. Anticipate this and discuss the possibilities openly before they arise. I simply let people know that if ever they find a situation where my presence is too much they only need give me a “look,” and I'll understand. They need to trust that they are in control, that they are making the rules, and that their comfort level and their lives are most important. And you need to understand that it is not your story that is paramount, but their lives.

You need to judge which moments are needed to tell the story and when an image is perhaps not worth the discomfort it might cause. This is a constant challenge, but one of which to be keenly aware. It will challenge your sensitivity as a human being and your skills as a visual storyteller.

This method has never failed me. I have certainly missed some moments over the years, but I have never walked away from a story feeling that I did more harm than good.

Stories of this nature can be emotionally draining, but it helps, at least for me, if you can take away some of the positive from the experience.

Mrs. Hoffman passed away during the night, with her daughters, Basia and Tatiana at her side, only hours after I had the pleasure of first meeting them. During the evening I was able to photograph some beautiful moments and before I left for the night I whispered a few words to her in her native French that included goodnight and thank you.

Andrew McCarthy, who had been a resident at Kensington Hospice for nearly six months, passed away on the afternoon of Feb. 20, 2012 with Marianne at his side. He was only 55 years old. Theirs was a love story, and one that I was privileged to see. On a Sunday, a week before he died, Marianne poured Andrew and I each a wee dram of Irish whisky. I was the last to have a drink with him and feel honoured to have done so.

Hugs for Free!

I've never been a huge fan of Valentines Day.

That's not to say I'm not a fan of love, and romance, a nice meal, flowers, soft music. Kathleen and I are on the same page when it comes to allowing this extremely commercial day to come and go without much fanfare at all.

I stood in the rain on Valentines Day, while taking a break from another story I'm working on, to get a photo of a young woman and man giving away free hugs. I thought it was very refreshing to see this, and was pleased to learn that there were absolutely no strings attached. It was just a nice gesture by two people trying to pass along a kind act.

Stephanie Mulhall, 23, right, and Fernando Brava, 22, behind, braved the cold rain to stand on the corner of Yonge and Dundas Streets in Toronto to offer free hugs and valentines to passers-by on Feb. 14, 2012.(Photo by Peter Power/The Globe and Mail)

While I'm happy not to participate in the mad dash for flowers and chocolates, I have to admit that I am still of two minds about the whole thing.

I don't think we need a special day to tell those most dear to us how we feel about them, or to do something romantic. However, as a society that seems to be getting busier and busier, with each passing day, if it is necessary to have a special day to kick-start some lazy lovers then I guess that can't be all bad.

"Maybe Next Year!" and mean it!

Every year I say, "Maybe next year," and this year is no different.

Today the results of the World Press Photo contest were released and I have to say that the winning images are seriously impressive. Congratulations to the winners!

While we don't, or shouldn't, work as photojournalists to win awards, it is nice to have your work recognized. WPP is the worlds largest photo contest and a prize in it isn't exactly bad news to wake up to.

But as I've said in the past, a person can't sit on any single contest prize and hope to be successful on bragging rights alone. Photographers who are successful over time, and some time and time again, repeatedly use their skill, their motivation, their creativity, and their opportunities to make images like many that are included as winners in this year's WPP.

Success at anything is about continuing to work hard to improve yourself and your craft. It's about not being happy with the status quo, and about thinking outside of the box. It's about never giving up and finding inspiration in the work of others around you.

Finding the proper and most efficient ways to do this is more than half the battle.

What strikes me often about many winning images I look at from contests, beyond the memorable images of course, is the access that photographers were able to secure, for one reason or another. Access takes forethought. It takes planning. It takes organization. And it takes vision. It takes patience. And it takes persistence.

There will always be award winning images that come from a photographer "just being there," but in my opinion these are the exception.

Beyond the stellar images produced this past year - and not just those that placed - I want to congratulate those photographers and photo editors that see the value of time spent planning, envisioning, and working to create those rare situations where compelling photographs are made.

The starting point for great photojournalism is foresight and fortitude.

I think we all have the potential to make stunning images, and to tell compelling stories, but you have to be there, and getting there is where the difference is made.

So, again this year, I'm doing my best with the opportunities I have, and trying to reach beyond what's immediately obvious, or available. We should all do this. And in doing so we can hope for great images and stories to develop from it.

And then we can say, with conviction, and not hollow words, "Maybe next year!"

Photography's Dark(room) Days

I just read an interesting article by Peter Turnley about a printer to the greats in Paris named Voja Mitrovic and while it was enjoyable it also made me think about how our industry has changed through technology.

The art of print making may be slowly disappearing but we are also losing the great art of photo editing. Every photographer can benefit from the critical eye of a talented photo editor. Today's photographers rarely ever have another eye looking over their work, finding the frame within the frame, or the elusive moment missed by the first edit.

While I personally do miss spending time in the darkroom, like many I'm sure, I don't yearn for those days.

New technologies have helped the process of making images by photojournalists, and I guess specifically by those of us working for newspapers, but we are paying the price for speed and immediacy in other ways; good editing being the greatest of these IMHO.

While we are now able to shoot and deliver our images more quickly, our ability to do so means that editors want to see more, sooner, and more often; for the blog, the tweet, the web, the gallery, ....and of course to appease the query, "do you have any other good ones you could send?" We all need to be reminded that quality, not quantity should be our goal.

It's rush, rush, rush now for many of us, especially if you want to capture a few jerky seconds of video as well, and throw it together quickly back at the office, so it can be posted, clicked on, and clicked off just as quickly. We are in a reckless rush toward mediocrity that needs to be examined more critically.

While we are all expected to do more, in less time, staffing issues, expanded use of photos, and a broader field to search for photos in, means that most photo editors have much more demands on their time as well. It would be nice to say that we should all have a photo editor oversee our work more often, but could you imagine how many of them would react to a small staff of people sending them hard drives full of images to edit? This would sadly be an overwhelming situation in most cases, if possible to do at all.

The path our industry has taken through changes in technology has been an interesting one to say the least. There have been  many positives, but also many negatives - the loss of the negative certainly being one.

I don't wish for a moment to go back in time. I love what I do, and I love the immediacy of it now. But I also love that I have had many years to experience the process of developing negatives, and producing prints in the darkroom. There is a certain Zen quality to time spent working on a print that all photographers would enjoy I'm sure.

If you haven't yet had the darkroom printing experience I would encourage you to seek out the opportunity. Shooting on film, editing from a strip or a selection of square negatives, and painstakingly producing a print in a darkroom will give you an enriched appreciation for the art of what we do, and the value of the single, solitary, perfect moment that we all seek.

Photographing Death and Hope in Somalia

Note: This blog entry was originally published here on globeandmail.com 

Stepping off the aircraft in Mogadishu, Somalia, I recognized the wall of oppressive heat that I’d first felt there in 2006. This time I was there to work with The Globe and Mail’s Africa correspondent Geoffrey York, and the situation would be dramatically different from each of our own previous experiences there.

Every assignment I’ve ever accepted that involves some level of risk has always been accompanied by a series of emotions. Packing and waiting to get on with the job is an anxious time. I find foreign assignments to be more difficult as my children grow older. Now teenagers, their understanding of the world and the places I am sometimes asked to work in adds to their own anxiety. As hard as it used to be to leave behind two small children, I found it more difficult knowing how worried they were while I was away this time. Unfolding events in Mogadishu didn’t make this any easier to deal with.

As I passed through security at Pearson airport, I received sad news from Geoff that a Malaysian cameraman had just been killed in Mogadishu. At the time details were sketchy, but it was still a very blunt reminder of the place I was about to visit and the need for constant vigilance. I hoped my teenagers wouldn’t see that report in the news.

Words of Cartier-Bresson

I just had to post this before heading out on the road today. I found it through Duckrabbit on Twitter. As he says, "Listen and Learn." This video - the voice and images of one of the great masters of photography - "Henri Cartier-Bresson - Life is Once Forever" by bt645 on Vimeo is well worth your time.

While Mr. Bresson denies he is a photojournalist, there is no doubt he set the  bar as far as composition and timing are concerned. He insists that facts are boring, and facts without interpretation are meaningless.

As photojournalists we are presented with the "facts" on a daily basis, and I submit that while we all attempt to portray events accurately, our personal interpretations of the events, and how we elect to capture them in images, is indeed photojournalism. Try as we might, we cannot escape our own vision.

POYi Award of Excellence

I was please to place in this year's POYi competition with an Award of Excellence in the Issues Reporting Picture Story category.

The twelve-image entry was part of a larger project shot in November 2010.

A "Classic" non-assignment

It's rare for our photo staff at The Globe and Mail to shoot sports action.  The exception was the Winter Olympics in Vancouver which we had four staff photographers assigned to.

Although this wasn't an assignment, I did spend some time recently shooting hockey. The story and photographs appeared over two pages in The Globe and Mail on Monday, Jan. 17, 2011, as well as on the website.

I've been interested in photographing Mennonites for many years, but I've been waiting for a reason to do so. A short time ago, while watching the NHL's Winter Classic I got to thinking that other than the game being outside there really wasn't much "classic" about the game.

So where do you find hockey played in a true classic fashion, the way it might have been played in it's genesis? The answer, I discovered, is among people who choose to live a simpler life - the Mennonites.

I was able to get an "in" to meet with some members of the community in north Waterloo region, but I was fearful that my efforts to make images would be fruitless. The group I was sent to meet are some of the most strict of the Old Order - the David Martin Mennonites. My instructions from my Mennonite friend were to introduce myself, explain why I was there (the story I wanted to tell), and ask questions as I would anyone else I'd just met. But NEVER could I ask to photograph them. Due to their faith they are obligated to say no to photographs, and that would have been the end of that. Despite this they have, on occasion, been photographed in the past, so I was optimistic that I could work within their comfort level.

My hope was that they would allow me to spend time with them, and gradually I would begin to make photographs. The approach worked like a charm, although I felt as if every image I made would be my last of them. It became a game of sorts, with the boys tolerating my presence, my questions, and seemingly my camera, as long as I remained subtle. It wasn't easy to make photographs because it was difficult to bring the viewfinder up too long to study the subject and wait for moments. I only had one young man give me a sideways look while I pointed the lens at him, but I stopped and he carries on as if nothing had happened.

It was great shooting these boys playing a game I have always loved. The experience of being around them playing a game simply for the pleasure of it is one I'll not soon forget. Just before the game ended, I was sitting on one of the chairs, at the end of the "bench" so to speak, when one of the boys leaned out and spoke in my direction. "Did you get any good shots," he asked, with a smile on his face. I could only smile as I answered with a nod, and the words "I think so," which was as honest as I could possibly be.

The images have also been posted in a gallery at peterpower.ca.

Looking Back at 2010

It has been quite a year 2010. There were plenty of stories that have touched us all in different ways, images that we'll never forget, and likely personal moments that test or reward us.

I cherish my time with  my family, especially around Christmas. It's a time to reconnect, especially with my two teenagers, and recharge the batteries so to speak for the challenges that the New Year will bring.

As far as work is concerned it has been relatively busy, at least for a daily newspaper photographer working in Canada. Below is a collection of twelve images - one, unpublished photograph from each month of the year - a year that had me on the road for about 60 days working on the Haitian earthquake, the Olympics, the Dementia Series, and one other that will be published in February.

There are also more images posted on my website as a 2010 Year in Review slideshow.

A young girl heads home from her father's funeral in Port-au-Prince, Haiti.

Meeting the "DOCTOR"

Last night I had the pleasure of attending a LowePro sponsored event in Toronto where the guest speaker was Dr. Ted Grant, who is widely know as The Father of Canadian Photojournalism.