Reflections from the Atlanta Photojournalism Seminar

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The Atlanta Photojournalism Seminar wrapped up today, and I’m heading home with a full heart and renewed passion for visual storytelling. I only caught two of the keynote presentations this year because I was helping at the NPPA table, but the two I heard—Doug Mills and Carol Guzy—left a lasting impression.


Carol Guzy: Bearing Witness So No One Disappears

We closed the seminar with Carol Guzy, whose name has become synonymous with compassionate, world-shaping journalism. Carol is one of the most honored photojournalists alive today—she’s the first to receive four Pulitzer Prizes, recognized for her work in Haiti, Colombia, Kosovo, and other regions marked by conflict and loss.

She shared her recent coverage of ICE operations inside the New York City courthouse, documenting immigrants being taken away from their families. The images were heartbreaking, but necessary. Carol spoke about her previous year in Syria, where families were searching through rubble for the bones of loved ones who disappeared. That connection was chilling.

Here at home, if not for journalists, some stories might fade the same way—unseen, unheard, unacknowledged. Carol reminded us that the camera can be a lifeline to truth.


Doug Mills: Forty Years Inside the Rooms Where History Happens

On the first day, I heard Doug Mills of The New York Times, who has photographed every U.S. president since Ronald Reagan. His career has taken him from campaign trails to 16 Olympic Games, and much of his work has become part of the nation’s visual memory.

Doug shared how he got his start, including a couple of challenging early encounters when editors made it clear he needed to improve. Those challenges shaped him into the journalist he is today—one entrusted with moments most of us only read about.

He spoke about photographing President George W. Bush on 9/11 as he learned the second plane had hit the Twin Towers. And, more recently, the unforgettable frame of a bullet streaking past former President Trump. Humor, humility, and resolve all wove through his stories. It was a reminder that history isn’t just documented—it’s stewarded.


Why These Stories Matter

Both Carol and Doug have spent their lives giving voice to people and moments we cannot afford to ignore. And yet, it has become increasingly complex for audiences to access this kind of reporting. With shrinking newsrooms and the rise of paywalls, fewer people encounter journalism that could change how we think, vote, act, and care for one another.

We need these stories. We need journalists who help us hold leaders accountable and remind us of our responsibility to one another, whether across the world or across the street.


Gary Fong is speaking with photojournalist Kathleen Greeson, accompanied by Keven Vandivier, Leslie Schanen Vandivier, and Ron London, at the Christians in Photojournalism table in the Vendor room during the Atlanta Photojournalism Seminar.

A Community That Encourages and Lifts Up

This year also brought the joy of seeing friends from Christians in Photojournalism hosting a table in the vendor room. Gary Fong, Ron Londen, Kevin Vandivier, Sam Cranston, and Tom Mills spent time in conversations, offering encouragement and prayer. In a profession often marked by emotional weight, that ministry matters.

Patrick Murphy-Racey [PMR], Gary Fong, and Ron Londen at the Atlanta Photojournalism Seminar 2025

I loved meeting students who are preparing to tell their own stories and catching up with colleagues—some still active in the field, while others have retired but remain deeply connected to the work and the friendships that formed around it. Photojournalism isn’t just a profession; it’s a community and, for many of us, a calling.


Leaving Inspired

These events always reignite something in me. I leave reminded of why I pick up my camera and why I continue teaching and consulting on storytelling. I wish I could attend more of these gatherings each year, as they refill my creative well and remind me of the power and necessity of visual storytelling.

Here’s to truth.
Here’s to compassion.
Here’s to the storytellers who help the world see what it might otherwise miss.

Until the next story,
Stanley