My friends are getting married. It’s one of those moments in my life that punched me in the back of the head with the realization that I’m getting older.

Luckily, it also meant an opportunity to try out something I’ve always been interested in, but have never had the chance to do: Engagement photos.

Chris and Alicia are both friends of mine who lived in the same dorm hall at Oregon with me all the way back when. It’s been amazing watching their relationship from the start; seeing how they’ve influenced each other as they’ve grown and matured over the last 6 or so years. Both Chris and Alicia have been great friends and an inspiring couple and I’m honored to have captured these images for them as they prepare to take that next big step in life together.

(P.S. You guys rock.)

© jarod opperman | Engagement: Chris and Alicia

Not the awesome or dope or fresh or sweet or hip definition for the word. (Or whatever slang term “the kids” are using for “cool” these days.) The temperature. By the looks of it, I was so concerned with getting my white balance accurate, I disregarded what the scene looked like. Or more importantly, how it felt.

The moment I stepped inside Central–a cocktail bar, opened a little over a year ago on the newly closed section of Ankeny Street in downtown Portland–I knew I’d have to show the warmth to highlight just how cool it is. (Yes, this time I mean “neato.”)

The only real sources of light were the bare, incandescent bulbs that hung down purposefully staggered and the oil candles that helped light each table. Dim is an understatement, but what little orange glow the lights created felt warm and comforting. Though I didn’t sit down to enjoy food or drink, my experience with the staff felt similar.

I wanted to show how Central felt to me. If I sucked out the orange from these photographs, I feel I’d be sucking out the intimacy as well.

–
Read Willamette Week’s review by Matthew Korfhage here.

© jarod opperman | Central for Willamette Week

Wait. Allow me to explain.

Last week I was fired from my job as a lead server at a restaurant in an upscale retirement community. Yes, that’s where I’ve been hiding for the last year and a half.

It was a year and a half of some of the most physically and emotionally exhausting work of my short life. Most nights the only thing I’d be able to do when I got home was sit in silence for about 20 minutes until I mustered up the energy to finally take my dog on a walk.

It completely drained my motivation to do anything. I photographed a few things here and there when I had a little free time, but otherwise I became a recluse.

Luckily for me, a few weeks ago, I was contacted by Willamette Week to shoot some photos for their restaurant guide, including what was to be their “Restaurant of the Year.” In order to meet my deadline, I found myself taking some time off at my day job. The highlight of my week was definitely waking up at 4am to meet Rodney Muirhead, so I could photograph him smoking meats at 5am. The energy I got from doing what I love again was enough to push me through the next few hours at my day job, leave early, and return to Podnah’s Pit that night to photograph the dining room.

Flash forward 3 weeks later. Three weeks of no real photographing. Three weeks of the same daily grind I had become accustomed to over the last year and a half, but was now finally fed up with. “We’re letting you go” was the most invigorating phrase my now ex-boss could have uttered. It was the swift kick in the ass I needed to get back to what I love to do.

Suck it, Russellville Park.

© jarod opperman | Food for Thought

After interning in Kansas, I decided that there was no place I’d rather live than Portland, Ore.

With the help of a friend, I managed to secure a job working as a server at a retirement community to keep myself afloat, which, unfortunately, really cut into the time for my photography.

Luckily, Reed College has sent me to photograph a few cool things this past year.

The first set of photos comes from a student-taught “Dome Building” class outside the student union. The second comes from the Spring “Canyon Day,” where students and community members were removing non-native species and introducing native trees and plants to their orchard.

© jarod opperman | I’m Not Dead Yet

Everything here is something I made during my internship here at The Hutchinson News, which comes to a close today. Tomorrow I will no longer be an intern. Just a photographer.

© jarod opperman | The End

The Abbyville Rodeo a couple weeks back especially really took me out of that level of comfort. Maybe it’s all the western movies my dad showed me as a kid, but I’ve got this glorified view of cowboys. In my head, they’re all the strong, silent type and they are NOT to be spoken to, especially before they do something like hop on the back of a bucking bronco.

But I was feeling especially inspired this particular evening and I had been assigned to make mostly feature shots rather than action shots from the rodeo events. So in an effort to really get a nice behind the scenes kind of look in Abbyville, I approached one of the guys taping up his arms. Turns out, most of these guys are nice as hell. They had no problem explaining their pre-ride rituals, slight apprehensions and favorite ways to wind down post-ride.

Almost compelled me to buy a cowboy hat. Almost.

© jarod opperman | Abbyville Rodeo

Actually, the most peculiar bit happened a little over a year ago, when Linda the cow tried to make a break for it just before being sold and likely slaughtered. Having been chased around Hutchinson and South Hutchinson for a while, she was finally wrangled up. That’s when Danny Brizendine and his wife, Jennifer Randall, stepped in and purchased the rebel cow.

Brizendine and Randall are California natives (like me!). They didn’t have anywhere to keep Linda, so they paid to have her stay with the man who had originally owned her. But the decision buy Linda spurred another decision to start an animal sanctuary for rescued animals. So since the couple acquired their 13-acre property in California and had built the necessary structures, they decided it was time to move Linda out to California. For all you west coasters familiar with the “Happy Cows Come From California” commercials, I’m sure you recognize the hilarity in this as well. For those of you who are unfamiliar, check YouTube for “California Cow Commercials.”

So I was asked to make one last portrait of the Brizendine-Randall family before they all headed to California. Unfortunately for me, I forgot that cows don’t tend to appreciate being in close proximity to humans. So all the brainstorming done on the drive to the farm became pointless as soon as we began inching toward Linda. So before we scared her off completely, I made some photos of her, some photos of Danny and Jennifer and was about to call it quits when I noticed Danny and Jennifer’s hands held together just below my eyesight of Linda. Thinking on how I had originally wanted to make a photograph that showed Danny and Jennifer’s compassion for the animal, I suddenly saw the photo I wanted. Not one that the paper would want, as there would be no faces, but a photo that I thought would better tell the story.

Maybe not a total success (I wish I had been able to exclude all the cows, but Linda), but still a frame that I enjoyed.

© jarod opperman | Happy Cows

So it came as a huge surprise to me when my editor asked me to make a few photographs of Sheila Turner, the woman who’d been driving the sedan at the time of the accident.

I immediately had a good deal of respect for Sheila. She told me as soon as I walked in that she doesn’t like having her picture taken, but that in this instance she hoped it would make the other driver, as well as drivers in general, realize the potential consequences of irresponsible driving habits. For me, this is the side that I typically have to explain to the people I’m photographing. That the photograph is not being made so much for the benefit of the newspaper and its staff, but for the benefit of the community through education and awareness. So it was nice to meet someone not in the journalism field who can understand that.

I just hope that my photographs are strong enough to help build that awareness.

© jarod opperman | Revisiting K96

My single assignment for the day was a “trail ride.” Now, I should admit, I had my preconceived notions about what Kansas was going to be visually. And those preconceived notions turned out to be totally wrong, until Sunday.

As I saw a couple horse trailers turning down the road in front of me, I quickly knew to follow, as they would lead me to the spot the ride was supposed to start. As they came to a stop, I looked around at the visual oasis that was everything I had envisioned when I came to Kansas. The Harry Hendricks Memorial Trail Ride was starting from a dirt road in Haven, KS, lined with foot-high green wheat. The blue sky was dotted with cartoon clouds. If it wasn’t for the horrible 1:00pm light, the scene would have been perfect. Horses, trailers and cowboy hats lined the dirt road, everyone getting their horses saddled for the ride.

I went into the scene like a kid in a candy factory. I tried to embrace the harsh light that cast dark shadows under all the cowboy hats. As the ride began, I snapped away, but they were quickly gone. Chased them down to a spot a few miles ahead, but it wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as where we started. But it was cool to finally see the Kansas that I was beginning to think only existed in my imagination.

© jarod opperman | Sunday Sunday

But see, the problem was that I had envisioned this large, asphalt track with pristine looking cars going around lap after lap for hours. What I was actually in store for was a lot more intimate and much, much dirtier. When I showed up at Speedway 81 in Park City, KS I got excited. The pit, simply the center of the track, was filled with these cars that looked like they had been pieced together at the junkyard and then given a quick coating of paint to try and hide it. And that’s where I was stationed. Right in the middle of it all. Unfortunately, I had a good list of racers I had to keep an eye out for on the track, so I wasn’t able to spend as much time getting some shots of the happenings of the pit itself, but I did snag some photos from my phone, the color ones in this set.

And in case you were wondering, I had completely changed my mind about racing by the end of the day. Sitting right along the edge of the track while sprint cars (the kind of car in the photo above) whiz past at breakneck speeds was quite a rush for me. Yes, I live vicariously though the adrenaline of others.

(And apologies. I’ve been in a bit of a black and white mood lately.)

© jarod opperman | A Dusty Day at the Races