There are moments when a story is best understood in layers—what you see from a distance, and what you feel when you’re standing inside it.

Today’s “No Kings” rally at the corner of Holcomb Bridge Road and Alpharetta Highway in Roswell, Georgia, was one of those moments.

From the ground, it was a gathering of individuals. From the air, it became something else entirely.

From Above: Scale You Can’t Feel on the Ground

The first thing that stood out from the drone was simply the size of the turnout.

More than 400 people had signed up for the event, but what actually unfolded on the ground was easily double that number. From above, the crowd filled the intersection and surrounding areas in a way that signage and sidewalks alone couldn’t contain.

It wasn’t just density—it was movement. People arriving, gathering, shifting, crossing streets, and forming clusters of conversation and expression. From that height, the message wasn’t in any single sign. It was in the presence.

On the Ground: Faces, Messages, and Moments

At street level, the story became personal.

ROYAL RIEDIMGER was seen making HIS poster, carefully constructing a message that would soon join dozens of others carried into the crowd.

TONY WESTERFIELD, volunteering at the event, moved through the gathering carrying HIS poster, part of the flow of people supporting and participating in the day.

RITA DOWNING stood holding HER “We the People” flag—simple words that carried weight in the context of the gathering around HER.

Friends GRAHAM ANTIN and NIKHIO GULLEY crossed Holcomb Bridge Road together, each carrying THEIR own posters, moving through traffic and into the larger stream of demonstrators.

AGNES RUST and DAVID RUST stood side by side holding a sign that read “We Are All Immigrants,” a message that turned their presence into part of the visual conversation happening across the intersection.

JOAN ROBERSON held a “No Kings Since 1776” sign while, just behind HER, BRETT CHANCE sat in a wheelchair with a “Save Medicare” sign attached—two messages occupying the same frame, each adding another layer to the day’s expression.

From a wider view on the ground, CHRIS BARLEY, GEORGE COPPENHAVER, DARYA ABERBACK, and ROBBIE COPPENHAVER stood together holding THEIR signs, part of the steady rhythm of people arriving, pausing, and joining in.

The View That Connects It All

The drone image pulled everything together again.

What looked like individual statements from the ground became, from above, a collective presence. Not uniform. Not scripted. But shared space is occupied by people choosing to show up and be seen.

That contrast—between aerial scale and human detail—is where the story lives.

From above, it was about volume and turnout.

From the ground, it was about voices.

And somewhere between the two, it became a reminder of what public expression looks like when people step into a shared space and speak in their own way.

Most people only see the final performance.
What they don’t see is the moment where everything either comes together—or falls apart.

I recently photographed a cue rehearsal for the musical She Loves Me at Kennesaw State University’s Robert S. Geer Family College of the Arts, and it reminded me of something every organization needs to understand about storytelling.

A cue rehearsal—often called a cue-to-cue—isn’t about running the full show. It’s where the production jumps from one technical moment to the next: lighting changes, sound cues, scene transitions. Every detail is tested and timed so the story flows seamlessly for the audience.

In many ways, this is exactly what most organizations skip.

Too often, teams jump straight to the “performance”—the final video, the photos, the campaign—without ever working through the cues:

• Who is the story really about?
• What moment carries the emotional weight?
• Where does the audience feel something shift?

Without those cues, the story may exist… but it won’t connect.

What I love about photographing a rehearsal like this is that it reveals the full team behind the story.

You see the stage manager calling cues and holding everything together.
You see lighting and sound designers shaping the emotional tone.
You see crew members moving pieces in near darkness.
You see actors stepping in and out, helping mark the exact moments that trigger everything else.

This is where storytelling becomes synchronized.

And this is why I photograph it.

I’m not just documenting performers—I’m capturing the system that makes storytelling work. Because great storytelling is never just about the person on stage. It’s about everything supporting that moment.

If you want stronger storytelling in your organization, don’t start with the final product.

Start with your cues.

• What is the turning point in the story?
• Who carries the emotional weight?
• What details help the audience feel it?

When those are clear, everything else falls into place.

Watching She Loves Me move from cue rehearsal to performance is a reminder of what happens when every detail is aligned.

If you’re in the area, it’s worth seeing how all of this comes together on stage.

🎟️ Get tickets (April 2–12, 2026):
https://ci.ovationtix.com/35355/dept/2631

One more thing that stood out to me…

If you look closely at the theater world, the people behind the scenes are often the ones who build the most consistent, long-term careers.

Actors are incredibly talented, but their work is often project-based—moving from audition to audition, role to role, with very little security. In fact, many actors work other jobs between performances because steady roles are hard to maintain.

But behind the scenes, it’s different.

Stage managers, lighting designers, sound engineers, and crew members are the ones productions depend on over and over again. These are the people who make the show run—and because of that, they’re often the ones who continue working season after season, sometimes for their entire careers.

A stage manager, for example, isn’t just part of one performance—they carry the show from rehearsal through the entire run, calling every cue and maintaining the production night after night.

And the broader crew—stagehands, technicians, designers—are the skilled professionals who build, operate, and sustain the production itself.

If you love theater, it’s worth remembering this:

Not everyone is meant to stand in the spotlight.

Some of the most meaningful—and lasting—careers in the arts happen just out of view, where the story is quietly being held together.

Most people don’t realize how scattered their photos have become until they go looking for something specific—and can’t find it.

Maybe it’s a family moment buried on an old CD. A trip stored on a thumb drive in a drawer. A hard drive sitting on a shelf. Or images floating in a cloud account you haven’t touched in years.

Over time, photos end up duplicated across multiple formats and locations. That creates confusion, slows down your workflow, and increases the risk of losing access to important memories.

A more intentional system doesn’t just make things easier—it gives you confidence that your images are both preserved and accessible.

Why Organization Matters

Photos are more than files. They represent people, stories, milestones, and history.

Without a clear system:

• You waste time searching across devices
• You risk losing access to older storage formats
• You may forget where your “best” or final versions live
• You end up duplicating effort instead of building on what already exists

The goal isn’t perfection. The goal is findability and preservation.

The Approach I Use

Over time, I’ve built a system that balances accessibility, redundancy, and practicality. It’s not about chasing the newest tool—it’s about using a combination of platforms that serve different roles.

1. Centralizing Select Images in the Cloud

I’ve moved organized photo collections from CDs, DVDs, thumb drives, and older hard drives into an online platform like PhotoShelter.

This becomes a searchable, accessible library for finalized JPEG images—photos that already include embedded metadata such as captions, keywords, and other identifying information.

This step is about making your images easy to find and share, without digging through physical storage.

2. Maintaining a Local Archive on a NAS

At the same time, I keep a Network Attached Storage (NAS) system as my primary archive.

This serves as my long-term, structured storage for:

• RAW files
• Master image files
• Complete photo libraries

A NAS allows for centralized access across devices while also supporting redundancy and backup strategies. It becomes the backbone of your personal or professional archive.

3. Using a Cataloging Tool for Search and Retrieval

To make sense of everything on the NAS, I rely on Photo Mechanic Plus as a cataloging and search tool.

Instead of relying on folder browsing alone, the catalog allows me to:

• Search by metadata
• Locate images quickly across large archives
• Work efficiently without moving files around unnecessarily

Think of it as an index that connects you to your storage, rather than replacing it.

4. Keeping Original Physical Media

Even after migration, I still keep my original CDs, DVDs, SSDs, and hard drives.

They serve as:

• A backup reference
• A safeguard against corruption or accidental loss
• A historical record of how files were originally stored

While I don’t rely on them for daily access, they remain part of the overall safety net.

5. Revisiting Lightroom Archives When Needed

I occasionally return to older Lightroom catalogs to access RAW files or revisit earlier work.

This adds another layer of flexibility—especially for projects where the RAW file or earlier edits may be needed again.

How This Applies to You

Whether you’re organizing family photos, managing a hobby archive, or working professionally, the principles are the same:

• Consolidate what matters most
• Keep a structured master archive
• Use tools that make searching easy
• Maintain backups across multiple formats
• Preserve originals, even if they’re not your daily access point

You don’t need to adopt every tool I use. What matters is building a system that fits your scale and needs while following the same core idea: separate storage from access, and make both intentional.

A Simple Way to Start

If your photos feel overwhelming, begin here:

1. Identify where your images currently live
2. Choose one primary location to centralize your best and most important images
3. Move or copy files into that structure in batches
4. Add or preserve metadata so files remain searchable
5. Set up at least one backup system for redundancy
6. Gradually bring order to older archives instead of trying to fix everything at once

Progress matters more than perfection.

Final Thought

A well-organized photo archive isn’t just about efficiency—it’s about stewardship.

When your images are easy to find, properly stored, and thoughtfully maintained, you’re better equipped to revisit moments, tell stories, and pass them on.

That’s when a collection of files becomes something more meaningful: a living archive of stories that can still be used, shared, and remembered.

One of the biggest differences between someone who gets the shot and someone who misses it has very little to do with creativity—and everything to do with preparation.

Moments don’t wait for you.

If you’re still fiddling with settings when the peak action, emotion, or expression happens… It’s gone. That’s why the most important part of photography often happens before you ever raise the camera to your eye.

Be Ready Before You Walk Out the Door

Before you even leave, take a few minutes to set your camera up for the kind of work you expect to do.

I’m always thinking through scenarios ahead of time because the settings for each situation can be dramatically different. The last thing you want is to walk into a fast-paced environment with your camera still set for studio strobes—or vice versa.

I shoot everything in RAW. That gives me the most flexibility later. But when a client needs something immediately, I use Nikon SnapBridge to send an image straight to my phone. It automatically converts RAW to JPEG, and I can email it on the spot.

That way, I’m covered both for quality and speed.

Always Take Test Shots

Once you’ve dialed in your settings, don’t assume everything is perfect.

Take a few test frames.

Check exposure. Look at your focus. Zoom in on details. Make sure nothing unexpected is happening—like flicker, color shifts, or missed focus.

This simple step has saved me more times than I can count.

My Go-To Camera Setups

Over the years, I’ve developed a few “starting point” setups depending on the situation. These aren’t rigid rules—but they get me ready fast.

One of the features I really appreciate on the Nikon Z9 is the ability to save your setups so you don’t have to rebuild them from scratch. You can store up to four custom shooting banks in the Photo Shooting Menu (A–D) and another four in the Custom Settings Menu (also A–D—the little pencil icon).

What that means in real life is simple: you can have one bank dialed in for everyday storytelling, another for sports, one for studio, and one for tricky lighting situations. Then, instead of digging through menus, you just switch banks, and you’re instantly ready for that environment. It’s one of those small workflow decisions that makes a big difference when the moment is unfolding in front of you.

1) Everyday / General Shooting

This is my default when I’m walking into most environments.

• Auto ISO: 64–25600
• Minimum shutter speed: 1/250
• Focus: AF-C with 3D Tracking or Auto-Area AF
• Motor drive: Single shot

I also programmed a function button so I can quickly switch between 3D Tracking and Auto-Area AF depending on what’s happening in front of me.

2) Sports & Fast Action

When everything is moving fast, your settings have to keep up.

• Auto ISO: 64–25600
• Shutter speed: 1/4000
• Focus: AF-C with 3D Tracking or Wide-Area AF (C1/C2)
• Subject Detection: People or Vehicles
• AF setup: Back-button focus (AF-ON only)
• Blocked Shot AF Response: 3 or 4
• Motor drive: 20 fps

This setup is all about tracking and capturing peak moments without hesitation.

3) Studio Flash

Studio work is controlled—but that means your settings need to be precise.

• Mode: Manual
• ISO: 64 or 100
• Shutter speed: 1/125–1/250 (sync speed)
• Silent Mode: OFF
• “Apply Settings to Live View”: ON
• Motor drive: Single

Here, consistency is everything. You’re building the light, so your camera needs to stay locked in.

4) Fluorescent Lighting (The Problem Child)

Fluorescent lighting can create flicker and color issues if you’re not careful.

• Auto ISO: 64–25600
• Shutter speed: 1/60–1/125
• Enable High-Frequency Flicker Reduction
• Fine-tune shutter speed if needed
• Use custom white balance when necessary

If you’re seeing banding or strange color shifts, this is where you slow down and dial things in.

Why I Rely on Auto ISO

Auto ISO is one of the most powerful tools in modern cameras—and I use it almost all the time.

It lets me lock in the creative decisions (aperture and shutter speed) while the camera adjusts ISO to maintain proper exposure. That means I can stay focused on storytelling instead of chasing exposure.

The only time I typically avoid Auto ISO is in controlled environments—like studio flash—where I want absolute consistency from frame to frame.

Getting Color Right Before You Edit

Today’s cameras do a pretty impressive job with Auto White Balance.

But “pretty close” isn’t the same as accurate—especially when it comes to skin tones.

You might not notice the shift at first, but once you start editing, those small inconsistencies become apparent. Skin can look slightly too warm, too cool, or just a little off—and now you’re spending time fixing something that could have been handled in-camera.

That’s why I still use an ExpoDisc.

By creating a custom white balance using a neutral 18% gray reference, I can get accurate color in the moment. The result?

• Better skin tones
• Consistent color across images
• Less time correcting in post

It’s a simple step that pays off in a big way later.

Preparation Is What Frees You to Be Creative

All of this might sound technical—and it is—but the goal isn’t to get lost in settings.

The goal is to eliminate distractions.

When your camera is ready…
When your exposure is dialed in…
When your focus system is set…

You’re free to do what really matters:

Pay attention.
Watch for emotion.
Anticipate the moment.

Because in the end, great photography isn’t about your settings.

It’s about being ready when the story unfolds—and not missing it.

The little boy holds onto the sheep during a Mutton Busting event at a rodeo, similar to bull or bronc riding, in which children ride or race sheep—the Panaewa Stampede Rodeo at the Equestrian Center Complex, Stainback Highway, Hilo, Hawaii.

There’s an old saying in photojournalism:

“ƒ/8 and be there.”

It sounds almost too simple—especially in a world filled with cutting-edge cameras, endless YouTube tutorials, and debates about dynamic range and autofocus systems.

But this phrase has survived for a reason.

Because at its core, it’s not about camera settings.

It’s about priorities.

What “ƒ/8” Really Means

Back in the days of film, ƒ/8 was a safe, reliable aperture. It gave you enough depth of field to keep your subject sharp without overthinking every frame.

It meant you weren’t chasing perfection.

You were choosing consistency.

Today, we have incredible tools—eye tracking, ISO performance that would’ve seemed impossible decades ago, and lenses sharper than ever.

And yet…

How many moments are missed because someone was:

• adjusting settings
• second-guessing exposure
• or scrolling through menus

The point of “ƒ/8” isn’t the number.

It’s the mindset:

Know your gear well enough that it disappears.

“Be There” Is the Real Assignment

The second half of that phrase is where the power really lives.

Be there.

Not just physically present—but emotionally, mentally, and relationally engaged.

The best storytelling doesn’t happen because of perfect lighting or flawless composition.

It happens because:

• You stayed a little longer
• You built trust
• You paid attention when others didn’t

In my work with nonprofits and missionaries, I’ve seen this over and over again.

The most meaningful images rarely come from the planned moments.

They come from:

• The quiet pause after the interview
• The interaction no one thought to photograph
• The in-between moments that reveal truth

And those moments only show up if you’re there for them.

Why This Matters More Today

We’re living in a time where it’s easy to confuse technical excellence with storytelling effectiveness.

You can have:

• The best camera
• The sharpest lens
• Perfect exposure

…and still miss the story.

Because storytelling isn’t about perfection.

It’s about connection.

And connection requires presence.

What This Looks Like in Practice

For me, “ƒ/8 and be there” shows up in a few simple ways:

• I simplify my gear so I’m not distracted
• I arrive early and stay late
• I focus on people more than equipment
• I watch for moments instead of forcing them

And most importantly…

I remind myself that my job isn’t to impress people with my camera.

It’s to help others feel something real.

The Takeaway

If you’re trying to grow as a storyteller, here’s the truth:

You don’t need more gear.

You don’t need a better camera.

You don’t need another tutorial.

You need to:

• Show up
• Pay attention
• And stay present long enough for the story to unfold

Because in the end, the images that matter most…

aren’t the ones that were technically perfect.

They’re the ones that only happened because you were there.

During week five of the Roswell Fire Citizens’ Academy, we focused on the role of the Public Information Officer. On the surface, it’s about communicating clearly during emergencies. But what struck me most is how the lessons apply far beyond crisis communication—they speak directly to how we all communicate every day.

We started with a simple exercise. We were told a story about five people and asked to rank their characters from best to worst. Everyone made their decisions pretty confidently. Then we were given more information.

And just like that, the rankings changed.

Same people. Same story. More context.

That’s when it hits you—how quickly we form opinions with incomplete information.

Later, Chad Miller, the Roswell Fire PIO, walked us through the classic illustration of blindfolded individuals describing an elephant. One person feels the trunk and says it’s like a snake. Another feels the leg and says it’s like a tree. Someone else touches the ear and describes a fan.

They’re all right… and all wrong at the same time.

Each person is confident in their conclusion because of what they experienced. But none of them has the full picture.

Sound familiar?

We don’t just see this in the media or during major news events. We see it in conversations with our spouses, our kids, our coworkers, and our clients. We hear part of a story, interpret it through our own experiences, and then respond as if we know the whole truth.

And that’s where communication starts to break down.

In the academy, we also looked at how misinformation spreads—often unintentionally. A partial truth gets shared, someone adds their interpretation, and before long, it takes on a life of its own.

Then we stepped into the pressure of it ourselves.

We were divided into groups and given crisis scenarios. Each team had to organize a mock press conference, with participants playing roles such as Public Information Officer, Fire Chief, Police Chief, Transportation Director, and Mayor. The rest of the class acted as the media, asking questions.

The biggest takeaway from everyone?

It’s incredibly hard to communicate clearly when:

• You don’t have all the information
• The situation is evolving
• People are demanding answers right now

And yet—that’s exactly where many of us live in our day-to-day communication.

We feel pressure to respond quickly.
We assume we understand what’s going on.
We fill in gaps without even realizing it.

But good communicators—whether in a crisis or in a conversation—do something different.

They slow down.

They ask better questions.

They recognize what they don’t know.

One of the most valuable tools shared in the class was a list of 77 questions journalists commonly ask during a crisis, along with 64 “bridging statements” to help guide responses. The purpose isn’t to dodge questions—it’s to stay grounded in what is known and avoid speculating beyond that.

That’s a powerful principle for all of us.

Because most communication problems don’t come from bad intentions—they come from incomplete understanding.

After years of working as a photojournalist, in public relations, and now teaching storytelling, I’ve seen this play out again and again. The strongest storytellers aren’t the ones who rush to conclusions. They’re the ones who take the time to see the whole picture—or at least acknowledge when they can’t.

So what does this look like in real life?

It might sound like:

• “I may not have the full story—can you help me understand?”
• “Here’s what I know so far…”
• “Before I respond, I want to make sure I’m seeing this clearly.”

Those small shifts can change everything.

Because when we recognize that our perspective is only part of the story, we become better listeners, clearer communicators, and ultimately, more trustworthy voices.

Whether you’re standing in front of a room during a crisis press conference or having a conversation across the dinner table, the principle is the same:

You probably don’t have the whole story.

And that’s not a weakness.

It’s the starting point for better communication.