Life Starts Outside the Frame

By Caroline Bittenbender

My story team and I were tasked with focusing our project on the terrestrial ecosystems of San Cristóbal Island.

Although we had spent all semester researching, it was not until we arrived in the highlands of San Cristóbal that I quickly realized the intricacies of life there. I saw so many breathtaking scenes I had only once dreamed of seeing, from hidden waterfalls to wild white horses, to swimming face to face with a sea lion.

In my role as a photographer, I was inclined to take as many photos as I could. How could I not? Everything I saw left me awestruck by its natural beauty. I was also incredibly determined to have all of the “right” photos that I needed for my story, as well as photos to complement the written and video components of the project. I wanted to be absolutely sure that my team and I had everything we needed, and there were so many beautiful aspects of life there that were important and could be used for the website. I spent as much time as I could in the highlands shooting, sporting long pants, a raincoat, and huge rain boots in 80° weather. I would end each day coated in dirt and sweat, and I finished the week covered head-to-toe in bruises and mosquito bites.

I did learn a tremendous deal about life in the Galápagos Islands through my time spent documenting every detail of the ecosystems. Every person we spoke to about the topic had an immense amount of knowledge to share. More importantly, however, I learned how to discern the right time to document life vs. when to put the damn camera away and just live.

Our frantic search for story partners brought us to some of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. One place I can’t quite get over was the house of two farmers we were considering for our story. The house was buried in a garden of tropical flowers. Vibrant purples, yellows, turquoises, and pinks popped against a sea of green. I could have easily gotten some incredible photos there. But I and my teammates made the conscious decision to put our cameras away. We sat there, in perhaps one of the most magnificent places I have ever been, and just listened. We used the time to connect with the married couple face to face through a language barrier, and we listened to them tell us their story about who they are and what they do. At that moment, I could tell that we all felt at peace.

While many will see the end result, not everyone will understand the journey this entire team endured and the pressure we all felt to make an amazing final product. Yes, I will keep my photos in my portfolio. I don’t think I have ever been more proud of my work in my life. But no amount of photos could ever sustain me in the same way as the blood, sweat, mosquito bites, and the patience that went into these stories. 

The truth is, there is so much that lies behind one photo or video or story or graphic. 

As much as I love journalism, this semester I realized that nothing tangible, not even a really great website, can prove the lived experiences of everyone involved over that one week spent on a tiny island off the coast of Ecuador. Our work may disappear to the bottom of the internet one day, and that’s okay. Because I will never forget the stories that were not captured on camera. And that unfortunately includes sleeping under a bug net on a farm in the highlands to avoid being eaten by a giant spider in the middle of the night.

I will carry the incredible things I saw, the people I met, the laughs shared, and that work ethic with me for a lifetime and it will forever shape who I am as a person. And that’s a more true and pure representation of life than any amount of photos could do justice.

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