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Joel Carillet is a master of street photography. His captures are a glimpse at places and faces most will never see. In 2003, he embarked on a year-long overland journey starting in China, and finishing in Turkey. His images from this epic trip are nothing short of stellar. Packed with emotion and insight, his images capture people from around the world in candid moments, transporting the reader to another place. Joel has recently published a book, 30 Reasons to Travel: Photographs and Reflections from Southeast Asia, available Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.

AR: Joel, Tell me some basic information about yourself: ie. age, location, education, etc.

Joel Carillet: Here’s a rough sketch of who I am…or at least where I’ve done my “growin’ up”: I spent the first half of my childhood in Atlanta, GA, where my dad pastored a church in the suburbs. When I was 12 my family moved to Papua New Guinea, where dad directed a Bible translation organization, which meant I spent my teenage years in a very small — and astoundingly beautiful — coastal town in the developing world. I returned to the U.S. for my final year of high school and, after two years of college in Atlanta, transferred to a wonderful school in the mountains of Tennessee. In 1996 I graduated Milligan College with a degree in political science and sociology. Tempted to go to Georgetown to study international affairs, in the end I decided to stay in Tennessee to attend seminary, graduating in ‘99 later with a masters in Church History. (But I still found a way to study international things: my thesis was entitled “The Palestinian Church: an Ancient Body and its Modern Challenge”).

Since graduating, I’ve taught at a college in Ukraine, worked on the staff of a study abroad program in Egypt, answered telephones at the Smithsonian and Washington DC, and volunteered with an organization in the West Bank doing peace and advocacy work.

I’m 33 years old.

Sikh boy in the Golden Temple (Amritsar, India).

AR: What first sparked your interest in photography?
Joel Carillet: My dad enjoyed photography as a hobby and took good photos, and we always had a National Geographic in our house, which as a kid I would marvel at. As a teenager I began consciously taking photos to “preserve memories.”

AR: How did you learn your trade?
Joel Carillet: Practice, I guess; I never took a class.

AR: Tell me about your world travels? You did a Middle-east to Asia tour a few years ago, and a recent trip to Israel and Palestine?

Joel Carillet: Right. In October 2003 I set off from Beijing on a 14-month overland journey through 17 Asian countries, ending in Istanbul in December 2004. (For those who are curious about costs, I spent just under 10,000 on the trip; less than what some of my friends in D.C. paid in rent during the same period.) Since returning to the U.S. I have been working on a book about the journey, the theme of which is something like, “Traveling, when done well, is about learning to love.”

I’ve been to the Middle East several times in the past decade, but in December I returned from a seven-week trip to Israel and the West Bank, where I was working on a photo essay about Palestinian Christian communities (plus some other minor projects). After three years of using a camcorder with a still capability of 1.5 megapixels, I finally invested in a good camera — a Nikon D80 — in October 2006. The trip to Palestine was my first experiment with it, and I love the upgrade. I hope to do a photo exhibit in Tennessee later this winter.

Boy in monastery - Tachilek, Myanmar

AR: Have you ever found yourself in hot water during one of your trips?
Joel Carillet: Several times, though it is the more positive experiences I tend to remember.

Muggists and mosquitoes and have landed me in the hospital on a couple occasions. In Istanbul five years ago I accepted a cookie from a stranger I had been talking with for 45 minutes. Immediately I began to feel sleepy, and the next thing I know I’m waking up in a hospital 18 hours later with blood on my clothes and an IV in my arm. He was after my passport, which, according to the U.S. consulate at the time, could catch $4,000 on the black market.

As for the mosquito, I think that happened in Cambodia – though I didn’t get the effect until a week later in Bangkok. It was the night before my flight back to the US and, out of the blue, I went from feeling great to shaking and nauseous within an hour. I actually collapsed on the way to the hotel but managed to make it back. I’ve had malaria before, but this was malaria x10. By the time my plane landed in Atlanta two days later, I was taken straight to the hospital, where I spent the next five days recovering from an acute case of Dengue Fever.

There are several “got attacked by dogs” or “was in a bus that just missed plunging into a gorge” sort of stories, but the two incidents above were the worst.

An Israeli border policeman keeps a photographer back as others demolish a Palestinian's home on the Mount of Olives.

AR: What do think about when setting up a scene? What thoughts go into the composition, lighting, scene, etc.
Joel Carillet: Now you’re asking the hard questions, Steve. I don’t usually articulate these thoughts to myself, but I guess I can say I am a lover of late afternoon light, eyes, and skin texture.

AR: You do a lot of street photography, do you ever encounter hostility from your subjects?
Joel Carillet: Sometimes, but rarely. A recent experience: I took a picture of the hands of an illegal money changer in the West Bank town of Ramallah last month. I had tried to get his attention to ask permission first, but he was occupied. So from ten feet away I just took it. I got caught and he got angry. He yelled at me right there in the city’s main square, and I sincerely apologized, agreeing that I should have asked first. I showed him the picture on my screen and prepared to delete it in front of him. But then he stopped. “No, it’s a good picture,” he said. Then he apologized for yelling and offered to buy me a cup of tea. The next day, when i returned to the square for more pictures, he was biggest supporter, chasing away a mentally unstable fellow who began yelling at me for photographing the square.

AR: What’s your favorite photograph (that you have taken) and why?
Joel Carillet: In April 2002, I spent one week in the Palestinian refugee camp of Jenin. Arriving n the camp, you could still smell rotting bodies under the rubble of houses (the Israeli military had just withdrawn after an intense battle with armed Palestinians, leveling scores of houses as communal punishment for the camp’s resistance before departing). Entering the camp, all five senses were inundated with the aftermath of death and destruction. I had never been to the camp before and had no place to stay, but after only two minutes in the camp an older Palestinian man, squatting on the rubble of his home, asked if I needed a place to stay. I said yes, and he invited me to stay with his family in the one room they still had standing. It was an extraordinary display of hospitality on more levels than I can explain here, and the next day I captured a candid shot of this man and his wife amidst their rubble. The composition was excellent, but the sentimental meaning for me was just as important.In general, my favorite photos are ones that somehow, in some small way, capture truth. Or at least that begin to capture the reality of a situation, rather than reality be beautiful or horror-filled.

AR: What keeps you inspired and your captures fresh?
Joel Carillet: My friends will tell you that on many days I can be too much caught up in my own thoughts and a bit depressed. Inspiration does not come easily at all, especially now that three years of writing and pictures has so far netted me what most of my friends earn in a week, which has in turn led to considerable financial stress. Sometimes — often, actually — I want to throw both pen and camera into a box and be done with it. But if something keeps me inspired it is this: the human being and our world in general is a beautiful mystery to me. Both can be completely ugly sometimes too, but each of us is capable of great beauty. And sometimes cameras can not only capture that, but sometimes they can even help bring it out of a person.

AR: What kind of gear are you using?
Joel Carillet: It was, until October, a Sony camcorder with a still function built into it. Now it is a Nikon D80. I can only afford one lens at the moment, and that is a Nikkor 18-135mm.

AR: What are your tips for up-and-coming photographers?
Joel Carillet: The same tip I would give just about anybody: love people, and love life. Of course, read up a bit on how to take a decent picture, but I’m not sure what photographing is for — or anything else for that matter — if love is not somehow involved. There is a quote in Dostoevsky’s The Brother’s Karamazov that has stuck with me since I first came across it four years ago. If I may, I’d like to close with it: “Love man in his sin too, for such love resembles God’s love, the highest possible form of love on earth. Love God’s creation, love every atom of it separately, and love it also as a whole…”

Abu Rajah and his wife, one week after the Israeli army demolished all but one room of their house to make way for tanks in their crowded refugee camp. When I visited Jenin Refugee Camp in 2002 and had no place to stay, Abu Rajah invited me, a complete stranger, to stay with his family in the one room still standing. Two of his sons had already been killed by the Israeli Defense Force (one died of an asthma attack brought on by tear gas, forbidden by the soldiers to leave their house to go to a nearby hospital for treatment). During my stay, Abu Rajah and his wife asked that I make time to talk with their third son, a 17-year old who hoped to be a suicide bomber. Their hope: that an outsider would have more influence than parents in discouraging a child from committing such a terrible act.

Visit Joel’s site at www.joelcarillet.com and see his work at imagekind.

I watched the first half of an Olympic football match (soccer to you North Americans) last night. Brazil, the yellow-jerseyed powerhouse, squared off against home team China. Everyone knew it was hopeless, China had as much of a chance as winning as George W. Bush has of joining Mensa.  (update: Brazil won, 3-0)

I’ve never been a fan of soccer, or any team sports for that matter. American football? Hockey? Baseball? Looking down my nose at most sports, from a high-and-mighty intellectual vantage point, they seem ridiculous.

Prospective Player: What do I do?
Veteran Player: You strap these big knives on your feet, then slide around on that ice. Wait, you also have to hack at a little piece of rubber with a long, curved stick.
PP: Anything else?
VP: If you get bored, hit somebody. People only watch for the fights.

Okay, I digress.

I watched my first Olympic soccer match. Not watching the Olympics is not an option I have. Of the 50 channels provided by my cable company, I think 62 of them feature Olympic coverage. (Check my math, it’s correct).

Watching soccer Olympic football, as someone with no knowledge of the game, its rich history, lineage, and culture, I made the following observations:

• Soccer is boring. Now I know why British men watch in a pub: You need alcohol to add excitement and/or kill the pain of sitting through the match.
• Commercials are often better than the event you are watching.
• Why do Europeans riot over soccer matches? Boredom can be the only explanation.
• The Brazilian footballers had the worst haircuts of any professional sports athletes, alive or dead.  Boys: I know you’re athletes, but the youth of the world, billions of young people, are watching. Try to set an example. Arsenio Hall with a high-top fade would be better example than the coifs you presented to the world.

More 2008 Olympics observations to follow….

images : xinhuanet.com, tv.com

Christine was a management cog in the corporate machine before she fled the Fortune 500 company that employed her and started life as a free-wheeling travel writer. Almostfearless.com documents her transition from one life to another. From her about page:

I always wanted to travel the world. Who doesn’t? But somehow I ended up trading in my 20’s for a job I didn’t love, money I didn’t need (but happily spent on things I didn’t need), and a burgeoning sleeping problem. One night after I ran out of valerian root and melatonin, I stayed up all night looking through job listings in my field. I realized something—I didn’t want to do any of them. None. I could change my job, change my environment, but the work itself had become excruciating.

It was time to take the leap and start over. I would finally pick up that writing career I had been tinkering with for several years. I would get serious about my photography. My husband and I would sell everything and move abroad with our two dogs (Molly and Jack). What’s the worst that can happen?

As The Stevo is a good bloglleague, he’s contributed a little something to almostfearless.com. Christine has been busy these past two weeks, moving to Spain. Take a boo at my article on How to Breeze Through Customs.

Give Christine some love, she’s a brave one.

Can you decipher the following?

Canon EF 70-300 f/4-5.6 IS USM
Canon EF-S 17-55 f/2.8 IS USM
Canon EF 50 f/1.4 USM
Canon EF 24-105 f/4L IS USM

You’re taking great shots with your new Canon DSLR. Landscapes, buildings, portraits of your family and friends: The camera rarely leaves your eye. But, you’re feeling a little limited, hemmed in with the kit lens that came with the camera body. After a quick look at the camera lenses online you find yourself lost in bizarre nomenclature.

What? What does that mean? I’m not a professional, only a studious shutterbug. What’s EF and EF-S? What is IS and USM? Fear not, Canon lens nomenclature is not as hard as it seems. Let’s break it down. See the rest of the article at Associated Content.

Dith Pran, the real-life photographer on which the story is based, has died. It must have been some sort of strange fate that I picked up a copy of The Killing Fields last week. I have always had an interest in Cambodia and the Khmer Rouge-led genocide of the 1970s. The movie is now part of my collection. A week later the man that inspired the film is dead.

Dith Pran, New York Times photojournalist and killing fields survivor died March 30. A Cambodian interpreter and photographer, Pran worked with journalist Sydney Schanberg as he covered the Cambodian conflict for The New York Times in the early 1970s . When Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital, fell to the Khmer Rouge, a group of communist rebels, in 1975, Schanberg was forced from the south-east Asian nation. Pran, who had previously sent his family to America, stayed behind. And endured four years of an unimaginable hell.

The Khmer Rouge forced an agricultural revolution on the nation, moving the populations of entire cities to the country-side to labor in the fields. In what became known as the killing fields, an estimated 2 million Cambodians were murdered by Khmer Rouge cadres, one third of the nation’s population.

Vietnam invaded Cambodia in 1979, toppling the neighboring communist regime. Dith Pran survived, while most of his family were killed. He escaped to Thailand in 1980 and was reunited with his family and Schanberg in America.

Pran worked as photojournalist with The New York Times and headed an organization founded to educate people about the Cambodian Genocide. He hoped to see Khmer Rouge officials tried for their roles in the destruction of a nation, and was elated when trials began to take place.

Schanberg’s book, The Death and Life of Dith Pran, was made into the 1984 film, The Killing Fields. Dith Pran was portrayed by Dr. Haing S. Ngor, who won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for the role.

Pran’s photographs are an eerie peek into a very dark time. More disturbing is that his images were a portent of Cambodia’s future. While no images of war are pleasant, knowing what followed makes them almost heartbreaking to view. His later images are playful, the work of an imaginative and skilled photographer.

I don’t know what draws me to Cambodia or its troubled past. I remember my mother saying something when I was young about Cambodia and it’s people being sent to the fields. Maybe that was the genesis of my interest, a comment in passing.

Farewell, Dith Pran, journalist, documenter of darkness, survivor. You left a lasting impression on me, and those that know of your struggles and successes. You not only told a story, you lived and survived it.

More photos and the full obituary at The New York Times.