Why Now?

Behind the Scenes #1: The rationale behind creating a photo book on COVID-19

This is the first in a series of short “behind the scenes” essays about the creation of my first photo book — “Keep Your Distance: Walking through the first year of COVID.” The 64-page hardback book, which has 70 images taken in four cities, is available for $40 plus $5.95 shipping (pre-order here).

Why publish a book about a year many of us would rather forget?

It’s a question I wrestled with for almost four years before pushing Keep Your Distance through to the finish line. Coming up with the answer proved frustratingly elusive, an emotion many of us felt during the period covered — the first 12 months of COVID.

Starting in March 2020, I walked almost 4,000 miles in a year, taking photos of anything that caught my eye. The photos, accompanying narratives, and occasional longer essays became a “Social Distancing Diary” that I shared in real time — pre-Substack — on social media.

In early 2021, as the diary began to wind down, I started thinking about doing something with the 2,000 images and 15,000 words of narrative that had been generated since the world stopped.

I knew I had an up-close, artistic perspective on a unique time in history, one that would stir emotions — contemplation, recognition, laughter, melancholy, sadness, anger, perhaps even nostalgia — about an experience we all shared. I also knew that seeing part of yourself or your experience in art — written, aural, or visual — is a powerful thing.

At that time, it was too much (literally) and too soon (emotionally/psychologically) to do anything with. So I put the project aside and left it to gather pixel dust in an online archive.

One photo that didn’t make the cut: Inside a house in Old Town Alexandria, Va., during lockdown — May 2020

Taking Some Time Away

From 2021 through much of 2023, I focused on rebuilding my freelance writing and photography business, which had been devastated by the events I spent a year chronicling. (If that’s not lowercase meta, I don’t know what is.)

2023 was particularly challenging. After 40 years as a journalist, I was rebuilding my professional life for the second time in a decade. Ten years after starting a freelance career, the pandemic-induced financial free fall left me feeling truly lost and unmoored.

When 2024 began, I moved out of my basement office and into a co-working space, determined to work on long-term projects that were half-finished or had been shelved. One project was this book.

The idea had stuck with me, even though I recognized — then and now — that its commercial prospects were dicey at best. COVID and that time are tough subjects for some to revisit, and many want to leave it behind for good.

At the same time, a visual and visceral reminder of that historic time is a worthwhile subject. The momentum of the 2020 protests receded as suddenly as they occurred, yet the backlash is still being felt today. Our country remains divided politically, and an argument can be made that we have forgotten many of the lessons COVID taught us about the importance of family and community, especially during lockdown.

Another outtake: An empty Lincoln Tunnel entering New York City — March 2020

Finding Clarity

Last January, I cut the photos from 2,000 to 400 and brought in a group of photographers, writers, and friends to cull them further. The first attempt had 120 photos and an edited narrative, but it didn’t work. It was too much, too muddled.

The project was shelved until December when I finally found clarity. Ironically, it was while I was in the hospital, dealing with pneumonia and sepsis and praying I would not have to be put on a ventilator.

But it was during that time of illness that I finally “saw” the book — a short prologue, followed by photos only, and then a brief acknowledgment and epilogue. The story I wanted to tell had come into focus.

I’m confident in my ability as a writer, having done this for more than 40 years. By comparison, using only photos to tell a story is unfamiliar territory. But my photography friends were right; the visuals were buried by my words.

I’m realistic. I don’t have delusions that this will be a best seller, no matter how compelling it is.

But one can always hope, and I’ve learned to never say never.

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