My First (Wildcard) National Geographic Assignment & World Photography Day
How 750 bearded men and one sweaty reindeer taught me to stop doubting and trust the process.
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For August 19, World Photography Day, National Geographic asked me to write a blurb about my favorite assignment for the magazine. After seven years of working with the magazine and traveling from Taipei to Kyiv to Hanoi, my most beloved shoot is still the first assignment that took me to Branson, Missouri, to photograph a professional Santa Claus convention. Incidentally, it was also my first In the Flash newsletter post.
The question that I get asked most often is how I started working with National Geographic. When I started In the Flash in the summer of 2020, answering it seemed like a good place to start. The newsletter was a writing experiment that I didn’t expect anyone to read, nor did I think it would last past a few entries. Two years later, In the Flash has over 14K subscribers, and writing has become an indelible part of my life.
For World Photography Day, I want to share this first post that started it all. I also want to thank everyone who is reading the newsletter and participating in the conversation about photography. Photography can be a very lonely endeavor, from traveling on shoots alone for weeks to sitting at the computer for hours editing photos. The newsletter brought to my life a vital sense of community, an opportunity for dialogue, and an exchange of ideas. I love getting comments and questions, whether agreeing or pushing back.
In the next few posts, I will be sharing my Part 2 of the The Somewhat Serious Guide to Photography’s Do’s and Don’ts, going deeper into why B&W photography ended up in the Don’ts and further exploring the controversy of AI. Stay tuned!
In June 2016, I got my first email from National Geographic. It was brief and enigmatic, “We have an assignment for you. When can we talk?”
Just a couple of years earlier, I had my work reviewed by an editor at Nat Geo who told me, straightforwardly, that while she loved what she saw, I wasn't a good fit for the magazine. A series I had just finished, Meatpacking, explored the courtship rituals of New York City’s infamous nocturnal playground. Before that, I had spent two years photographing the ritual of bachelorette parties in all their decadent glory. I considered myself then — and still do today —a photographer of the frivolous, peering into the recesses of our collective social experience. Probably not National Geographic material. Vice, maybe.
After reading the email many times over, making sure it was addressed to me, I did a happy dance, opened a bottle of wine, and considered all the exciting possibilities of what the shoot could be. Was I finally going to be a SERIOUS photographer, shooting somewhere on the edge of the world, shedding light on a pertinent and tremendously important cultural issue? Would the assignment be dangerous? By the third glass, I was seeing myself in a heroic light. A Pulitzer was just a shot away.
It was a sweltering 90 degrees when I landed in Branson, an anachronistic town in the Ozarks full of country music venues and oddball attractions like the Dolly Parton's Stampede. It was an appropriately bizarre setting for an event billed as the World's Largest Santa Convention, consisting of 750 Santa Claus impersonators, their wives and one real Reindeer. These were not your average shopping mall Santas. These guys were professionals. They had long, carefully groomed, real beards. Fake beards were for posers.
The highlight of the five-day bonanza was the Parade of the Red Suits. All the Santas were dressed in full holiday gear, and they were overheating. Brownie the Reindeer had to be cooled down with a portable fan as he made his way through the city's streets.
I had one major rule when photographing the convention: Don't get seduced by the easy allure of the suit, making it the focus of the images. I aimed to present my subjects as individuals — not just professional Santas. I searched for interesting interactions, off-beat moments. One of my favorite images is of Santa Steven as he lounges by the pool, having finally discarded his heavy winter coat. His luxurious beard, red trunks and regal stature are the only signifiers of his profession.
The question that I got asked the most during my jolly few days at the convention was, "Why would National Geographic be interested in us?" Everyone was amazed, and a little incredulous, to be in the magazine. In this respect, the Santas and I were exactly in the same boat - literally, since we spent the last day of the convention floating around Branson on the Showboat Branson Belle.
In the end, I found out more about the fascinating business of being a professional Santa than a Jewish girl ever dreamed of. And I came back bearing gifts: Photographs that documented both the lighthearted and soulful side of these full-time Saint Nicks. One of the great things about being a photographer is realizing that the real world is often far stranger and more interesting than we imagine. Santa does exist, even in the summertime. And it turns out there’s room in a "serious" magazine for a dedicated chronicler of frivolity like me.
Christmas in July, Inside a Santa Summer Camp. National Geographic.
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Great article. Insightful - both on the Santa and your approach to the project. The images just sing.
Magnifique article et des photos à la fois drôles et émouvantes. J'aime quand la photographie reste humaniste tout en étant très décalée et cela est inspirant. Je me pose la question sur la photographie très classique que tout le monde "like" (pause parfaite, netteté à tous les niveaux y compris la noir et blanc), la photographie décalée qu'un certain public aime également. Les deux peuvent devenir très ennuyeuses (à mes yeux du moins ou alors à la limite du vulgaire. Et soudains, certains photographes ont l'art de mettre quelque chose de probablement très personnel qui me fait tilt et qui n'est jamais ennuyeux ni vulgaires (et vous faites partie de ces photographes) Est-ce lié à la personnalité, la vision du monde...le type de cerveau, la maîtrise de la technique?! C'est à la fois une remarque qui ne demande pas forcément une réponse.
Merci en tout cas pour vos réflexions et vos photos!