Overexposed
Of the many unpleasant places U.S. News sends me to take pictures--Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan--there is one destination I fear above the others. It is a Georgian mansion in the heart of Washington, D.C. The house might not be haunted, but beyond its iron gates lie horrors just the same. Photographically speaking, it is a creative black hole: the uniform lighting, the limited mobility, the lack of access. My fellow photographers and I speak of assignments at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue the way career criminals speak of doing time. "The big house," we call it.
Most of our time covering the White House is spent sitting idly around the briefing room of the West Wing. This is the blue-curtained place made famous by the press secretary's daily briefings, as well as by sci-fi flicks in which the president vows to fight the latest invasion. Hollywood's portrayal is trumpery, of course, that of a large room ignited by ancient, oversize Metz flashes. When I first entered the real thing 10 years ago, still an intern, I felt the sinking realization that the B-movie version was more appealing.
Reality bites. The briefing room is small, dark, and unkempt. Newspapers are scattered over the folding seats, as are plastic cups and wrappers, and soundmen snoring with their feet up. It looks like an adult movie theater after the lights come on. The walls are lined with cameras, as well as stacks of stepladders used to gain a bit of height at East Room events. Television crews are crammed in the rear of the room, the legs of their tripods forming a shiny, silver weave.
Press events at the White House are scheduled with little routine: Some days there are five events; others, none. When a pool call comes over the intercom ("First and only call for photographers covering the Oval Office event"), all the shooters gather at the briefing room doors for an escort. Pushing to the front of the line are the three, self-proclaimed "wire dogs," AP, Reuters, and AFP, who are allowed first entry since their pictures have the widest audience. Unfortunately for the rest of us, these photographers also have the widest girth: Their photo vests bulge with enough accouterments to fill a strip-mall MotoPhoto. For this, the wire photographers receive good-natured guff from the magazine shooters ("Are you going on a five-second photo op or a five-week commando mission?"). We, by carrying too little gear, often err on the opposite side of the spectrum.
Appearances aside, the wire dogs are fast--and thus better suited than I to this hit-and-run environment. Some Oval Office events last 10 seconds. Ten seconds! That gives you five seconds to hustle through its famous doors, three seconds to frame your picture, and two seconds to hold down the shutter. And all the while a dozen other photographers are jostling for your spot, the space no bigger than a closet. I'm often just figuring out the exposure as the event is declared over and the wires are drifting back outside, reviewing their work. Then again, who needs a picture of President Bush locked in a staged handshake with the prime minister of Burkina Faso?
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