Many people have known me as a photographer. Some still do.
But as time passes, people pass or move away, thus the remembrance for my skilled photography also fades.
That fading memory translates into being asked to do less, or nothing at all.
To that end, my photography has evolved from the “gathering” into the “manifestation” stage. Translated: instead of photographing more images, I devote time to writing and incorporating my images into published books.
The latest example is Final Elegance, co-authored with MVAAC Poet Laureate Amelia Kibbie.
Since 1976, when I became a purposeful photographer, I have taken well over a million images. I quit counting years ago. In my prime two decades I was shooting at a 50,000 image annual click. Lots of photojournalism, utilitarian images. That’s given way to the slower volume of fine art photography.
Purposeful photography was born in 1974 when I bicycled up Old Fall River Road in Rocky Mountain National Park with my friend Patrick Wilder. As an Air Force photographer during the Vietnam war, Pat knew something about cameras.
Pat’s images of that uphill trek were sharp, clear, properly lit and composed. His Nikon did the trick. My Kodak Instamatic took memorable photos, but my lack of focus and proper lighting proved humbling by comparison to Pat’s images.
Being a cheapskate and consumed by my work as Director of Muscatine’s Housing Authority, it took two years to finally purchase the right camera: a Nikkormat!
My voracious passion to learn photography proved to be a life-changing event.
In 1978 I moved to Mount Vernon and was hired to be associate editor of the SUN. In that capacity I honed my photojournalistic skills.
In 1980 I began the first of 43 years of being a freelance photographer, educator, writer and book publisher.
My artistic camera was a Hasselblad medium format which I purchased in 1981. I also bought a 4×5 view camera.
The love of artistic photography was manifested in black and white film. That said, color print photography paid the bills via weddings and portraits.
Black and white film and prints have an estimated archival life of 2,000 years. Color might last 100 years. A true fine art afficionado knows the value of black and white prints.
With having taken over a million negatives, slides, and digital images, I am at this point: what to do with this collection of history, event, people, and artistry.
Certain images and negatives will be divided among family. Others will go to the History Center in Cedar Rapids, the State Historical Society in Iowa City, and Mount Vernon Historic Preservation.
I will keep printing my favorite black and white fine art images.
But there’s more to consider.
Locally I have photographed many weddings, over 200. I have safely kept those negatives. They were rescued from the Great Flood of 2008 by my friends Roger Johanson and Mary Bryan. I was in Colorado when flood waters rose to reach our family home in Cedar Rapids. Water was 4’deep in the basement from which my negatives were lifted.
My intention is to return negatives to my subjects.
The quantity is massive. I will need help.
Subjects will be asked to personally retrieve negatives from me, or to cover shipping costs. I can be reached at my email address: [email protected].
If the images are of no interest or value to the subject, please advise me. I won’t throw them away. I am exploring alternative storage for some future generations to discover and value.
Bob Campagna is a local photographer and writer. His email is [email protected].
In the Beginning…and Nearing the End
Forty years ago, on October 27, 1983, I (and my friend Doug Hanson) climbed Mount Vernon’s old water tower. We younger guys traversed in the pre-dawn, 28F darkness. That tower was soon slated for demolition to make way for the current Memorial Park tower. Fall colors were ablaze, enveloping the Cornell campus. High winds, predicted for that afternoon, would strip bare the trees of their colorful foliage. Carrying 25 lbs. of equipment, 140’ up we climbed. The tower’s steel ladder had no OSHA backed cage for safeguard. Such photographs of Cornell had never been taken from this angle, and certainly not at this time of fall brilliance. It was a serendipitous, magical moment, the last chance for such images. My Hasselblad took almost 2 dozen medium format transparencies with the rich, delicious red tones of sunrise striking the golden trees, College and Law Halls, and King Chapel. A “problem” evolved. Police Chief Guy Kuehl stopped below and told us to “come on down.” Being on city council, I knew Guy. Identifying myself, I told him we were taking photos, and would be down when done. He left. However, four hours later while I participated in a mid-day council meeting, Chief Kuehl arrested me for “criminal trespass,” a misdemeanor. The arrest was given at the directive of former Mayor Earl Wolvers. A couple of months later the magistrate judge threw out the charges, saying that since I was on the council’s Sewer and Water subcommittee, I had every right to inspect facilities. Case closed. Statewide publicity hovered for decades. I never again had to advertise myself as a photographer. The above photograph has never previously been published in the SUN. It has been occasionally used by Cornell College and other concerns. The story of the water tower climb will be featured at the History Center in Cedar Rapids in a 2024 exhibition.