WHEN TO HIRE A FIXER: A BASIC GUIDE – BY DANIEL GAREE & JESSICA RUTHERFORD

 

The world of documentary filmmaking (and photography) is a fast-paced environment that, more often than not, requires a good bit of travel. And more times than not I’m traveling to places where not only do I rarely know the streets but also the language. This is when hiring a local fixer makes all of the difference. Continue reading “WHEN TO HIRE A FIXER: A BASIC GUIDE – BY DANIEL GAREE & JESSICA RUTHERFORD”

THE MATHENY RD SHRINE

(Photo, Jef Price)

On a small grass mound between two roads on the edge of a small town, sits a small shrine featuring details in construction from the years past railroad industry. Continue reading “THE MATHENY RD SHRINE”

RUS RUS

(Photo, Andrew Tonn)

RUS RUS, La Miskitia, Honduras—On my first trip to Honduras, more than 12 years ago, we were on another plane full of missionaries and Hondurans returning home. As the jet banked to descend into San Pedro Sula there were thatched huts and fields of palms and a river dark with red silt curving over the flat plain. Some missionary kid a row or two behind me began whistling the theme to Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark and I thought, “This is how it ought to begin.” Continue reading “RUS RUS”

LOCKED AWAY: THE ROSEVILLE PRISON

(Photo, Jef Price)

 

Recently I was given unprecedented access to the Roseville Prison. The prison is now privately owned and is closed off to the public, photographers, documenters, urban explorers, journalists or anyone else who wants to see this historical and supposedly haunted location up close.

Stories of people being chased away, arrested or shot at are the norm with a location such as this, but in the case of Roseville prison… The stories are true. Continue reading “LOCKED AWAY: THE ROSEVILLE PRISON”

VARANASI: IT IS THE BLACK HOURS BEFORE DAWN

(Photo, Andrew Tonn)

It is the black hours before dawn. The boat pushes out into the slow current. The ghats and towers of the ancient city are outlined with dim electric bulbs and small fires. Their glow creates a half circle of light over the river that fades into the black of the sky and the uninhabited sand-dunes of the other bank. It is quiet and I whisper to myself, “You are floating down the Ganges by the banks of Varanasi. You are here.” Continue reading “VARANASI: IT IS THE BLACK HOURS BEFORE DAWN”