Access

Without access there’d be no story, and with personal projects you’re the one who’s got to find a way in. The hurdle of access is a spectrum - If you’re working on a piece about, for example hiking in Appalachia, access will be fairly easy. The pastime is not a secret, it’s not illegal, there’s no villain, and no one will feel betrayed by your presence. But, if you’re trying to document a right-wing hate group, things will be harder. They’ll be protective of their identity, skeptical of your political leanings, and worried about backlash.

I used to tip-toe around popping the question, “can I come and hang with your group?”

I’m naturally pretty shy, and hugely introverted, and would be nervous of an awkward reaction from my potential subject. I’d procrastinate and delay, finding other things in the project that I could do instead - planning equipment or edit strategies. But in the end, nothing else could move forward without access. I was just wasting time - no access, no story.

Good practice is to find many access points to your chosen issue, build yourself multiple inroads, so that if one fails you can approach from another direction. Think of it as a spider-diagram with the overall topic in the center, then branching out are all the people and organizations involved. Stack the deck in your favor by researching as many contacts at each of these avenues. You can even turn each branch into its own chapter under a general theme and publish each individually. Over time you build up a “long-term” body of work that is eligible for large grants and exhibitions.

A few years ago, I made a piece about Ukrainian military drone pilots. As Russian troops pushed further into Ukraine, the Ukrainian army would adapt civilian drones to fly over Russian tanks and direct their artillery to the right place. Access was so tight. There were military secrets being guarded on both sides, so we researched all the angles of approach. There were scientists customizing drones in Kyiv warehouses, soldiers on the frontline flying the drones, soldiers manning the artillery in the dirt trenches close to Russian tanks, politicians making decisions about ceasefire agreements, battalions training troops to use the drone equipment, and medics treating soldier injured by Russian shrapnel. Where soldiers were worried about identity, we agreed to film them wearing ski-masks. We spent time with every group, making a separate piece for each, later editing all chapters into one longer story.

With a solid list of contacts at each branch of your story you start emailing, in much the same way that you’d pitch your final piece - with an intro on yourself, what you’re trying to do, why you’re doing it, and where you’re trying to place the final project. If you like you can include links to some previous work.

You’ll receive very few responses in the first week. But after seven days begin to work down your email list phoning. Depending on your topic this can get awkward. Lean in. It will always be awkward, it’s not your fault, most people aren’t used to someone saying “hey, I love what you’re up to, can I come and photograph you for three days.” When was the last time someone said that to you? 

But stick with the conversation, take deep breaths, answer questions confidently but slowly, and most people will end up flattered. Try not to put the phone down without arranging a date to visit and photograph. Get verbal confirmation here if you can. You don’t want your subject to second-guess their decision to let you visit.

A lot of access negotiation boils down to trust. Your subject might question who you work for, where the work will be published, or your political affiliations. Be very honest with yourself and your subject about your intentions. For me it’s usually to shine a spotlight on something troubling, document something historical, or to build empathy around an issue. Don’t promise a particular outcome, like fixing their problem through publication of a story.

The easiest path is to find subjects who's values align with your own. If you agree with their cause, let them know you’re a friend, and perhaps show them some previous work that’s similar. You might need to give something before you can begin working. Normally this just means time. Perhaps it’s showing up without a camera just to talk. Make jokes, eat food together, keep the mood light. If your subject lets you in, never betray that trust.

There will be people who just won’t let you in, and that’s fine. Step away and find someone else. Or other times there’ll be people who drag you into their world and won’t let you go. I find this in scenarios where extreme conflict is playing out in the moment - people just want you to document what’s happening to them, the injustice.

When someone asks, “where will this be shown?” If I don’t have an outlet committed to the project, or if it’s a personal project, I’ll tell them that, but then I’ll list the types of places that I publish other work, or the types of places that I’ll be pitching the project. What they’re really asking is… “Is this going to land with Fox News or CNN?” “Which side of the fence are you?”

Once I made a piece about migration on the Texas border. I spent time with a group of ranchers who’d evolved into a loose paramilitary organization. They’d spend every night dressed in camouflage and night vision wandering the desert in search of migrants who walked north from Mexico. We all knew that our voting preferences were opposite, but after a few phone calls they allowed me to visit. When I arrived everyone was frosty, I wasn’t immediately liked. Slowly we built conversational bridges together, shared jokes, and found middle ground - for example we all grew up in rural areas, had spent time in military scenarios, and I could make everyone coffee while they were working. They began to teach me their perspective on migration. 

These are times that are most valuable for me - when I spend time with a group who I think I disagree with, where I have negative preconceptions toward their activity. I love to connect with people in this way, to listen to their story, and find out why they think the way that they do. For me these are the most important stories to tell. Often at the end of our time together I still don’t agree with their ideals, but I understand their motivations. In the end I often like them socially, I learn to see the aim behind their actions with a fresh perspective, and can relay these findings to my audiences.

Building and translating empathy between groups (my subjects and my audience), I realize that everyone is human and that we’re all flawed. We’re all doing the best we can with the tools that we have.