
Once a field photographer, Chris Johns now works out of his office at the headquarters of the National Geographic Society in Washington, DC. (photo by David Alan Harvey)
Not in conversation with us, of course. It’s a conversation with veteran NGM photographer David Alan Harvey, who has known Chris for decades as a colleague and a friend.
When we discovered, several days ago, that David had scheduled this interview, we encouraged him to make the most of his opportunity, especially since there’s so much at stake:
“Please know,” we wrote to David, “that you are, in many ways, representing a whole lot of photographers, writers, editors, researchers, cartographers, designers, and many others who will never be given the chance to interview Chris on the record — but whose livelihoods rely on what happens to the Magazine.”
We also encouraged David to pursue an important issue that a gentleman named Sidney Atkins had posted at David’s website. Sidney wanted Chris to address greenwashing in the pages of National Geographic, and the impact of corporate advertising on the Magazine’s (and the Society’s) credibility.
Sidney also wondered about editorial self-censorship: “[W]hat I am really curious about is how as editor [Chris Johns] balances the pressures that I know must be on him to “go easy” on certain topics, or avoid certain topics….“ Another reader seconded Sidney’s motion: “I share your view completely,” wrote Gerhard. “Your write-up is excellent and to the the point.”
But as you’ll see when you read the “interview” – and we encourage you to read the whole thing — David decided to… well, to take the conversation in a very different direction. Instead of addressing Sidney’s and Gerhard’s questions, or talking about the earthquake rattling the world of professional photojournalists — and all the related challenges for National Geographic — the guys spent most of their time chatting about drive and passion and hunger and spark and being in the zone. Also, much talk about voice. And hunger.
The “interview” goes on for more than 3,100 words. Notably absent are words such as internet, web, digital, team, society, innovation, growth, sustainability, social, community, future, or hope.
Reading the transcript, you’ll find almost nothing that will be new or illuminating to photographers or NGM staffers. There’s nothing to suggest that we’re living, right now, in what might be called “the decisive [journalistic] moment.” Instead, two guys share their feelings and stroke each other. They say things that could have been said in 1990 — and probably were.
Like an old, faded photograph, this “interview” seems anachronistic, frozen in time.
For two photographers who take great professional pride in capturing moments, they seem blissfully unaware of — or consciously uninterested in — the moment we’re all living through right now.
And what poor timing: This week, “the tribe” of NGM photographers has gathered at NGS headquarters for their annual photo seminar and professional meetings. What a wonderful opportunity David had to invite Chris to begin a real conversation with our community about the future. About a Plan for the road ahead. About the next chapter in The National Geographic Story.
Instead, Chris and David — two tribal elders — sat down to chat, exchanged many words, yet shed very little light. Lots of voice… but no vision.
It depresses us to say so, David, but: You missed the shot.
An excerpt from the “interview”:
Chris Johns: … Well people say ” I want your job”…well so what? No I want people who are hungry and are walking the walk. I mean just putting it out there and they really believe in what they do. They care deeply about what they do. And they want to be better. Yet, they’ve got their voice and what they want to do is not be like everybody else, they want to take the voice they have, the experiences of their life, their soul, your life’s experiences, and refine it, and amplify it, and bring it to another level to share. To share what they see, to share what they feel. It’s just this sensational honor. David, you’ve got it. Hunger.
David Alan Harvey: And you do too.
CJ: Absolutely. Yes, hunger.
DAH: All of us. Deep.
CJ: I don’t know why.
DAH: I don’t know why either. I don’t know if we’ve explained anything to anybody but its [sic] true. That hunger is the thing.
CJ: It’s the same thing. It’s this drive. You know, when I became editor of the magazine, the drive didn’t go away, it was channeled in a slightly…
DAH: In a slightly different direction.
CJ: I still work 60 or 70 hours a week.
DAH: Well I didn’t think you took this job to take a vacation.
…
Okay, so you’ve got two books that we can talk about and twenty some magazine articles, and at sixty years old your [sic] thinking its [sic] time to get your act together. Now that is so weird. Nelson Mandela wrote your forward [sic]. Amazing.CJ: I’ve got to do better.
DAH: Yeah, I know the feeling.
CJ: I can’t be slipshod here.
DAH: No but yet at the same time, you value time with your family. I’ve seen you with your family. You value time with your friends. I’ve seen that as well. You have Elizabeth, who you met in Africa and Nichole, Louise, Tim who are just the nicest young people.
CJ: My family is number one.
DAH: So you’re not just a maniac. But it’s a work ethic thing. It’s a work ethic, it’s a passion.
CJ: It’s a deep thing where you know, you talk to a great writer, you talk to a great photographer, and you can’t help yourself. You have to work. You have to take pictures. You have to create. These are things that you are… these are almost obsessions.
DAH: Wait a minute. Say that again, you can’t help yourself?
CJ: You can’t help yourself.
DAH: That’s it. You just can’t help yourself.
CJ: Sure.
DAH: So this whole interview comes down to that?
CJ: Absolutely.
{ end of “interview” }
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Be sure to check out David Alan Harvey’s upcoming story about the place he now calls home — the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Chris Johns has scheduled this story — with photographs and text by David — for publication later this year in National Geographic.








