I've been a staff photographer at the Lawrence Journal-World since the summer of 2005. My love for photojournalism was cultivated in college with long hours spent at the University Daily Kansan. Fresh out of school I spent a year as a contract photographer for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch before taking a job as a staffer for the Topeka Capital Journal where I spent the next three years.
Although I primarily work with still photography, my duties at the JW include covering news, features and sports with the use of still images, video and audio clips. A few highlights from the last few years have been covering the 2008 NCAA championship run as well as the Orange Bowl victory.
I feel fortunate to work with such a knowledgeable and hard-working staff.
If you hear the name Lawrence Fight Club, you’re probably picturing a dingy and damp basement in some old building on Mass Street with fluorescent lights flickering from the ceiling. Down below a circle of spectators surrounds two shirtless dudes who are pulverizing each other.
If you’ve kept up with Chad Lawhorn’s Town Talk and you’re anything like me, you’re probably wondering exactly what the cluck is going on with all of these fried chicken joints popping up around town. To further investigate the allure, as every journalist should, I enlisted the help of sports editor Tom Keegan and the fried chicken oracle of Lawrence himself, Chad Lawhorn, to eat at all of them.
If the names Sam and Dan Billen ring a bell, it might be that you heard their music while popping around the Lawrence music scene at The Bottleneck or Jackpot Saloon in the early- to mid-2000s. But you’ve likely heard their music and not known it — and it may even have caused you to grab your wallet.
Give us your wildly unpopular, nonpolitical opinions.
A current exhibit at the Lawrence Arts Center, featuring works by Mike Yoder and Richard Gwin, two photographers with well over a half-century’s worth of combined years at the Lawrence Journal-World, aims to bring forth the hidden process. By presenting prints of contact sheets while on assignment, and photos selected after being pushed through the various channels of editing, “the work” is made visible.
In 90 seconds, most people could probably fry an egg on a preheated pan, fill up an empty tank of gas on a compact car or peel and cut up an apple with fingers fully intact. Most people, however, could not produce a large-scale painting of anything remotely recognizable before an audience while wearing high heels.
It would be pretty difficult to forget meeting a anyone with a name like Gizmo Joe, or Mothman or Pat the Hat from Slab City, California. A pinky-ringed cabbie from Jersey named Al? Fahgettaboudit! For Lawrence artist John Sebelius, the memories of these four and 61 others certainly haven’t faded, as he has recorded them in great, colorful detail for his upcoming show, Cupcakes, which opens at Phoenix Gallery for Final Fridays on Nov. 26.
Most Kansas basketball fans can recall from memory the classic photo of the game’s creator James Naismith standing proudly on the left with the coach Phog Allen to his right. The two figures of basketball royalty are both wearing fedoras and the only thing stopping them from holding hands is a basketball that they hold together. The image portrays the two as allies and collaborators in lock step, cradling the game in its fledgling years. But a new book on Phog Allen suggests reality wasn't nearly as picturesque.
If going downtown to unwind and unplug yourself from the presidential election, the talking heads and hot-button political issues is on your agenda for the upcoming Final Fridays, let this serve as a warning to steer clear of several works of art.
Answers to the cheese quiz.