Firefighting Photography at Its Finest

Laura Yanes uses the Tamron SP 17-50mm VC lens to showcase America’s bravest men and women in uniform.

Article by Jenn Gidman

Images by Laura Yanes

Laura, who started photographing in the firefighting industry with the FDNY in 2001 ("they're the grandest definition of firefighting - that was the experience that defined firefighting for me"), has since journeyed to San Francisco; San Antonio and El Paso in Texas; Albuquerque; Knoxville, Tennessee; and a variety of other destinations to capture the finest in the service. "If I had become an architectural photographer, I would be an expert at working with the angles and lines of the buildings, the reflections off of glass and chrome," she says. "Instead, what I really understand is the personality of a firefighter: the passion, the drive, the nobility, and the dignity. I'm able to get them comfortable in a matter of moments, because I've built up that level of trust over 12 years of experience."

Laura, who previously used the Tamron AF 24-135mm lens for her firefighter imagery, is now tapping into the SP 17-50mm VC lens to showcase these special men and women. "This is a great lens because it offers so much flexibility, especially given the environment I'm in," she says. "Sometimes I have no room to move, and the 17-50 lets me shoot in those tight spaces. I might also have to do a group shot, then go back to doing a portrait. That lens allows me to do that quickly without having to change equipment. Any second the alarms in the firehouse can go off - everyone's going to disperse, and I'll have to get out of the way, then be ready to shoot again. I can do that with the 17-50."

Using all natural light became Laura's M.O. early on. "The gear and the rigs all have reflective material on them so they can be seen in the dark," she explains. "If I'm photographing a firefighter in his gear, he's got reflective yellow or orange bands around his legs, waist, helmet - if you shine any light on those, they're going to have this unattractive glow. You'll see this effect in many of photos taken by the firefighters themselves or by their wives or kids with their pocket cameras when they turn the flash on."

Keeping herself (and her gear) out of the picture is also important to Laura. "It happens occasionally, and I don't like it when it does," she says. "I hate to see myself in the picture: either my reflection in the chrome or in a side-view mirror, or a bit of me in someone's glasses. I work very hard to make sure that doesn't happen."

Laura makes sure that she's unintrusive as possible when she sets up to do her work in a firehouse. "That's another reason I don't want elaborate lighting or other gear in these situations," she says. "I won't work with tons of wires and electrical cords lying around. If there's suddenly a call, I don't want firefighters tripping over my equipment. I even measure where to put my tripod, so that if a guy makes a sharp left turn while running through a doorway to jump on a rig, he doesn't stumble into my tripod and injure himself or cause any kind of delay."

Respect and Trust

Even though Laura works hard to come up with compelling images, technical bells and whistles aren't the most important part of taking a firefighters' pictures: treating them with respect and gaining their trust is. "I try to portray them with great dignity, without fanfare," she says. "I'm not trying to dress up a picture and make it dramatic. I want it to be pure and simple. It's an intimate moment between the firefighter, me, and his or her family. I'm so happy when I get a letter or email from someone who says, 'We find it difficult to communicate how we feel about our work, but you've done it for us.'"

Getting a firefighter comfortable and letting him or her take the lead during their session together is an instinct Laura has learned to follow over the years. "I took two photographs once of the same man," she says. "In the first photograph, he was very uncomfortable. You could see the fear, anxiety, and stress in his face. I stopped taking pictures, sat with him on the bumper of his rig, and asked, 'Who's this picture for?' He answered, 'My mother. She's always wanted a picture of me in my gear.' I said, 'OK. Imagine she's going to frame this picture, put it on her desk, and brag to every one of her friends about her son the fireman.' The guy smiled at me, and I said, 'What expression do you want her to see? What's the message you want her to have?'" The very next picture turned out so amazing. It looked like he was saying, 'Thanks for all your help, Mom. Thanks for making this possible. I'm living out my dream.'"

In another case, Laura noticed a firefighter watching her for three hours before he approached her. "He circled me while I was working, checked out my portfolio, came back, did it all over again," she says. "I knew from my experience not to interfere. He finally came up to me and said, 'I'm ready to have my picture taken. But I'm the only one who survived 9/11 from this company, and I want all of them in the picture with me.' And he pointed to a wall behind him with all of his former colleagues' plaques and memorials. I got it immediately. We did the photos, and I let him tell me how he wanted to do it. Months later, the guy's wife called me and said, 'Thank you for giving me back my husband. He's been suffering from survivor's guilt for years, and the act of saying he was ready to get his picture taken finally released him.' I thought that was an amazing moment."

Dealing with the interaction among the firefighters is also part of Laura's photographic routine. "I might be trying to take a picture of a firefighter while 10 other guys are on the sidelines teasing him," she says. "I'll be ready to take a shot of one guy and someone else will say, 'Wait!' and rush into the shot to adjust the guy's collar or straighten his helmet. That's part of the story. They care about each other and have each other's backs."

One of Laura's favorite pictures (a spontaneous one that she often gets calls for to try and duplicate) took place at a San Diego firehouse. "The firefighters were out on a call, so I was alone in the firehouse eating lunch when a woman and beautiful little girl who was about 5 years old came in," she recalls. "The little girl started looking through my portfolio and said, 'I don't see my daddy.' I told her we'd take his picture when he came back, on the one condition she took the picture with him (her mother warned me that she didn't like having her picture taken)."

When the father came back to the firehouse, Laura started framing the shot. "I stepped behind the camera, looked through the eyepiece to frame the shot, the girl walked into the frame, looking up at her father with so much love and respect," she says. "The mother reached in to get her and I put my arm up quickly so she'd back off. I just started snapping. It's such a priceless photo. She's glowing with so much affection looking up at her father, and he doesn't even know she's there."

The respect Laura has for her subjects carries over to how she decides when and to whom to release her images. "I'm actually selecting images to be archived in the Smithsonian now, which is really exciting," she says. "But first I went to each firefighter and asked for his or her permission. A couple of them declined, because their images were so private for them, which I absolutely understand. I never want to put someone in the position of feeling uncomfortable of how their image is being used. Companies have contacted me to use some of my firefighter photos and sponsor me in exchange for my database or to help 'promote' me. I always say no if the request would compromise the trust and security of a firefighter. It's not worth it to me. Maybe I'm too cautious, but I'd rather err on the side of caution than have any firefighters upset with me and lose their trust."

No matter which part of the country Laura ends up in, she always remembers her roots with the FDNY. "I just came back from helping a Brooklyn firehouse get ready for their centennial celebration," she says. "They wanted all of their members to be photographed, as well as every element of the firehouse (even the dog!) and parts of Brooklyn that had special significance to the firehouse for a book they're publishing to commemorate the occasion. We went to where Ebbets Field used to be, the spot where an old hat factory famously burned down in 1860, and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, where there's a tree planted as a memorial for the firefighters who died on 9/11. It was amazing to go back to New York with a house full of guys who made me want to start to do this in the first place."

Laura now also knows that she's got friends in every corner of the country. "It's been so rewarding," she says. "One firefighter once told me, 'You've always got a bathroom and a cup of coffee wherever you go,' and that's proven to be true. It changes your perspective on the whole profession. There's something so heartwarming knowing that I'm not a stranger in their world."