The Bridge Story

Until the police showed up, my pursuit of the Talmadge Memorial Bridge in Savannah, Georgia, was going according to plan.

I had driven from Atlanta to visit a friend, with the intention of also photographing a beautiful suspension bridge. As I entered Savannah, everything began falling into place near downtown. The road suddenly rose, removing distracting backgrounds, with an exciting reveal of the bridge. Great, I thought! This is the angle to get a high-impact image.  It got even better as the rise of the overpass apexed. At the exact spot I felt I needed to shoot the bridge against open sky, a 20-foot section of tall safety fencing was missing. I had the opening I needed. Noting the time I knew exactly when to return the next day, ready to shoot. My intention was to enlist my friend's help. "Pull up, I'll hop out, you drive away. Come back in 15 or 20 minutes. It'll be a wrap.”

But the next afternoon I hadn't even opened my tripod when two police cars pulled up. Cops jumped out, and one officer says, 'What are you doing here, sir?' I say, 'I'm taking a picture of the bridge,' and she says, 'I understand you want to shoot the bridge, but you can't be here.’ I said, 'Wait a minute—this is a sidewalk intended for pedestrians, I'm not blocking traffic, why can't I be here?' She says, 'Well, it's not that you want to shoot the bridge, it's that right beneath you, if you look down, is the Port of Savannah, and you can't photograph the Port of Savannah. It’s an anti-terrorism thing.' I was tempted to ask them to just stand there with me—I'd take the shot, and they could clearly see what was on my LCD, but I could feel the authority buzz and knew not to push. At that point, my friend, who'd seen what was going on, drove up, I jumped in the car and away we went. I was disappointed, convinced the spot was the best shot. But my friend had another idea. “I know a place a bit farther along the river with a rooftop bar. Let’s get a drink and you check out the bridge.” To be honest I was skeptical, but at least it was a plan B.

I soon found myself on a rooftop bar on the opposite side of the bridge. It gave a broadside view of the bridge, not what I had imagined, but the overcast sky was getting darker and at this point I'm was going to shoot. From a broadside I wasn't going to get both supporting towers, and minute by minute my options were dwindling. I picked a section of the bridge with one tower, cables coming up one side and down the other, and placed the span off-center, capturing multiple frames for a panorama. I shot it again for insurance, and was done.

But not quite.    

As we sat with drinks and appetizer, a window opened in the overcast sky and sunlight of approaching sunset poured through. My heart was in my throat, the shot literally transformed in seconds. A phenomenol background of light was framed by stormy overcast and bridge. I reshot the composition again but it wasn't until I saw the images on the computer that I comprehended the ‘WOW.’ Post-production was a b*#ch. Shooting multiple frames, each with a minutely different rotational perspective meant the cable lines appeared broken when assembled in software for a panorama. I had to manually align and repair the cables over exhausting hours, but each time I zoomed out of the detailed view where I worked, the impact of the full image refreshed my spirit, the excitement building.  

Years before in a seminar, I’d been impressed watching famous photographer Joe McNally discuss his workflow, crafting carefully planned shots with complex artificial lighting. Beyond the lighting, the take home message I saw in his work was persistence. As you strive to realize a vision, the first draft doesn’t always work. You go to plan B, C, D… whatever it takes until you see the finish line. Often you discover the best shot wasn’t the one you started out to make.

It turned out the Savannah police officer was right: I shouldn't have been at the first spot. A magnificent image was waiting for me on a rooftop, with a woman and a cool drink.