The year was 1980, and I was at Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana. OK, so by that time I should have graduated college, but I took a few years first to work in my field. Long story.

So one day I get a call from a picture editor from The New York Times. They were doing a story on Muncie and needed a photo. The picture editor asked if I was interested and could go out to shoot something, anything, to illustrate the story and, of course, meet their deadline. Yes, I could!

The newspaper's deadline was in a few hours. I needed to shoot, process, print and get the image transmitted to New York fast. So I hit the streets looking for something usable. The editor suggested kids playing because part of the story was about how Muncie is a great little town to raise a family. Luck shined in my favor, and I found a group of neighborhood kids skipping rope. I made a series of images with a long lens to stay unnoticed then moved in closer, using a variety of lenses and angles. When I felt I exhausted the situation I asked the kids to line up for a group picture. It was the easiest way to get their identification. Later I could just match names and faces to write a caption.

I finished the job, and the editor liked the pictures. He said he would keep my name in his Rollidex for future work. As promised he would call anytime there was a need in that part of the state. When I moved, I would update my information with the editor, and more work would follow.

When I relocated to Pittsburgh in 1990, I called the editor, who by now had become a good friend, and said, "Lonnie, I just moved to Pittsburgh, and I'm freelance! Anything you can throw my way would be great." After he stopped laughing at me for moving here, he asked the most significant question of my life at that time, "How much work do you want?" I responded, "Eight days a week!"

For just more than ten years, Lonnie sent me assignments to keep me hustling three, four or five days a week. I covered West Virginia, Ohio and Pennsylvania as far east as Williamsport. I shot for the National Desk and almost every department of the paper thanks to Lonnie advocating on my behalf. It was a great time.

Recently I have been editing my archive files, where I found the negatives from my first NYT assignment. However, one thing I noticed that was quite fascinating. I now think the most interesting pictures from that shoot, were those of that group of kids I did for ID purposes. It's a 'Spanky and our Gang' kind of picture, maybe not right for the assignment in 1980, but today there's a timeless quality to the image. It could have been 1880 as naturally as it was 1980.

Make it pop!

This photograph is an example of visualization executed with exact precision. Created for an annual report, the art director allowed me total creative freedom. That's what happens when you work with someone for many years and establish a history of good work. 

I always request at least 60-90 minutes before the shoot to scout the location, visualize the image in my mind's eye and execute the technical - lighting and propping. On this job, I was fortunate to have an assistant. I try to have an assistant on any job that requires extra illumination. Additional hands are always helpful, and sometimes necessary. 

Once we established a location and the prop our subject would hold it was my job to visualize the lighting. The art director wanted something that would pop off the page so to me, that meant to go for the drama. To that end, the primary light was the first to be set. I wanted it hard and directional to cast a shadow. One Dynalite head with a 20º grid did the trick. After that, it was filling out the puzzle. I needed a rim light (camera left) on the subject and illumination in the background directly behind the subject. I wanted the computer lit from behind as well as from 45º. Light also needed to come up from behind the computer, so the corner didn't go completely black. That's five lights. Some were Dynalite heads with 10º grids; others were Nikon Speedlights with warming gels and 20º grids. 

By turning off the room lights over the subject, I didn't have to worry about color bleed from the yellow-green fluorescent lights. The only fixtures we could not extinguish were the emergency lights. To reduce the visual impact of that, I selected a shutter speed of 1/50 second – just long enough to capture one full cycle of the fluorescent tube but not enough to bleed color.

When the subject arrived, he hit his mark we placed on the floor as we were lighting, held up the molecule model to cast a sharp shadow on his face and we started working. We tweaked the lighting slightly as we shot (one of the benefits of digital, instant feedback). He moved the model around a bit to cast different shadows. It took us almost 90 minutes to light, and we completed the job in ten.

There are days when the well runs dry. Maybe it's cold, rainy or just one of those blue days when nothing goes right. Don't give up. Take a break. Go for a walk. Breathe deep and recharge. Keep your eyes open and look around you for the little things.

Go back to the basics. It's time for some visual shadow boxing. I don't mean shadow literally, but it could be. Just look about you and open your mind, heart, and soul to the world. Laugh out loud, chuckle to yourself and smile. Find the joy within. Remember what it was like the first time you saw a picture, be it in the darkroom, or on the LCD screen.

I love to create layers in my photographs. Foreground, middle ground and background all working together. Bits of information, different sides of the story, one playing off the other or complimenting those that come before.

It's a compositional and storytelling tool going back hundreds of years. Spend time in an art museum, and you'll see Renaissance painters using the same technique. Many photographers are famous for their multilayered images. Pick almost any Magnum photographer and study their work. Cartier-Bressan, Constantine Manos, Alex Webb, and David Allen Harvey are a few masters at the technique.

It's not always easy to construct successful layered images. It takes practice. It takes patience. It necessitates seeing at a very high level. You need to look at an almost Zen-like level. When you can feel the image, you have learned the technique.