Friends dressed in Derby attire attend the fourth annual Down & Derby fundraiser benefiting Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta at Crabapple Market Green on Saturday, May 2, 2026, in Alpharetta, Ga. From left are Daniel and Luz Cardamone, Lindsey Liranzo, Laura Hinchee, Mike Liranzo, and Dan Hinchee.
Covering the Down & Derby event was one of those assignments that reminded me why I approach photography the way I do—not just as a photographer, but as a storyteller.
On the surface, it was a lively community event filled with energy, costumes, laughter, and competition. Like many events of this size, there were multiple photographers on site. Two of them were hired specifically to document the day, and they did excellent work. If I had been the client hiring them purely for event coverage, I would have been pleased with the images they delivered. Their job was to capture beautiful moments for the guests, the sponsors, and the immediate needs of the event.
My role, however, was different.
I wasn’t there simply to collect visually pleasing moments. I was there to communicate the story of the event to people who weren’t there—and to do that in a way that answers the five W’s: who, what, when, where, and why. That changes everything about how I work.
I was also responsible for writing a 400-word AP-style story, gathering accurate names, and collecting quotes that would help bring the experience to life for readers. That means I’m not just looking for “a great shot.” I’m looking for the moment that carries meaning, context, and voice. I’m listening while I’m photographing. I’m observing relationships, reactions, and the small details that help someone outside the room feel like they were inside it.
And because of that, I often don’t get the same photos as someone who is only photographing moments.
They can stay fully in the visual flow—anticipating peak action, clean compositions, and expressive faces. I’m still doing that, but I’m also thinking: What does this moment mean? Who is speaking? What will someone who wasn’t here need to understand this?
That dual responsibility shifts what I notice.
After I delivered the story, I received a note from the media contact for the event, who was also one of the organizers. She wrote:
“Can you hear that? The clapping and cheering? That’s me inside my house reading your article. It’s brilliant. Thank you! 😊”
That kind of response is exactly why I approach my work this way. The goal isn’t just to show what happened. It’s to help someone feel what happened, even when they weren’t present.
Over the years, I’ve noticed something interesting. Ever since I started consistently combining strong writing with still images—or video that includes interviews—the quality of both has gone up. Not because I’m working harder in one area, but because I’m thinking more holistically.
When you’re responsible for telling the story through multiple senses, you begin to ask better questions. You listen differently. You anticipate differently. And you see differently.
The images improve because I’m not just chasing visuals—I’m chasing meaning. The writing improves because I’ve actually been present in the event’s emotional and visual rhythm. And the storytelling becomes stronger because everything is working together instead of existing in separate lanes.
Down & Derby was another reminder that storytelling is never just about capturing what happened. It’s about translating experience—so someone who wasn’t there can still understand, connect, and respond.
And when that happens, well, the story doesn’t just inform.
It resonates.
Derby Glamour Meets giving spirit at Alpharetta fundraiser for Children’s Healthcare