Years ago, I wanted to be Don Sturkey when I grew up. For over forty years, Don and his camera lit up the pages of the Charlotte Observer with his images. His ability to cover both hard news stories, and arts and music in a daily newspaper format is something we may never see again. Be it Elvis Presley at the Charlotte Coliseum in 1956, slice of life images from the bustling southern cities, to the dusty roads of rural communities, Don was there. Day in, day out. Consistent, and as good a working photographer as you may ever see.
The first time I met Don was in 2001, when he had an exhibition of his work at the Main Library. Also in attendance was all of the Observer and News photographers that had worked alongside him. Jeep Hunter, Tommy Franklin and so many more. I had been shooting for the Observer at that point for less than a year. The freelancer that the Observer sent to cover the event tried hard to ignore me. Don and his fellow photography vets treated me as an equal, a peer. It was a lesson I've tried hard not to forget.
For all of his accomplishments and accolades, Don was always composed, and quietly confident. I tried hard not to gush to him about what he and his work meant to me, so I instead took photos of him at every chance I was given. Be it exhibits in Charlotte or Shelby, or the party that they threw to close down the Observer building in 2016. I made sure to get photos of Don with Jeep Hunter as they exited the building. For those of us that pick up a camera, a photo can mean so much, and can mean so much more as the days pass by.
Don left this physical place last week for his next assignment. Like Jeep, Tommy and so many others, they and their work are still here, even after their bodies pass on. If you're lucky, what you create lives on after we do. The work flows from us, and beyond us. Sooner or later, that is all we can hope for.
I wanted to be Don Sturkey when I grew up. I still do.
Safe travels, Don. Thank you. Until I photograph you again, in the great gig in the sky.
-Daniel
March 2, 2025
No comments:
Post a Comment