John R. Shup , Jeannie Young is currently} photographer at WSC. Her work hash displayed at several locations in Lake City, and at the Kimball Art Ca in Park City. She produced the bodl which received the MacEachern Awati 1979 for a special purpose publicatil 4 - Before coming to WSC she filled a teach assistantship at University of Ui ss iD and was photographer/research assistant! eS Jeannie EV ound catches a shot of her Sancaial ees teacher, John R. shone. John credunted from WSC in 1966 with a major in Sociology and minors in Psychology and Photography. He has worked as a photographer for the college, KSL TV, Associated Press, Salt Lake Tribune and Ogden Standard Examiner. He has also done a great deal of free-lance photography for local businesses. John has received several national and international awards the American West Center at U df B.A. Journalism, Weber State Colk M. Ed. University of Ut for his professional work in photography. by Jeannie I knew I hadn’t heard right and figured I must be wishing pretty hard for something to happen, so I just stood there looking at him. Young We never make it alone. We never become something by ourselves. And usually it takes a whole lot of people to shape and influence just one life. I can think of many people who gave me a fish and extended my survival for a time. But those “T said, I have a camera you can borrow for this quarter, if you want,’’ he repeated emphatically. “T don’t think I can do that,” I said. ‘I’d be afraid to use it! I might break it. . . What if I break it?”’ ““You’re going to take pictures with it, not play I had been in this same spot one other time wit this same man, and was doing the same thing crying and saying ‘“‘Thank you, John.” But after the final grade of the final photo class the college had to offer I knew it really was time to give the camera back to John, even though by this time! considered that camera a part of me. It was a way to capture time. It was an extention of my thoughts when words were not who taught me how to fish gave me independence. basketball,”’ he grinned. One such person is photographer John Shupe. Yeah, that’s right, that’s right. Oh, I’d be so careful with it, I promise I would take really good graceful enough. It was a sight reserved for seer and I had learned to see. This time, even before I went, I knew I would WSC. He was a lab instructor and photographer. I had enrolled in the Photo 101 class and was attending my first lab session. We were to expose pictures with it. And never let anybody else use it. cry because I had learned so much a roll of black and white film and develop it. It’s in my locker.” Tears were choking me as John casually handed I met John when I was an undergraduate at I followed all the steps of the processing very carefully and was surprised to find bluish grey film for all my work. Upon inspection John merely You won’t be sorrv. ‘‘Come on,” said John. “‘Let’s get you a camera. me a 120 Mamaya twin lens reflex and told me how it worked. I couldn’t say a thing, so I just — from Joh — from his camera — and from myself. And ho would I tell him how important all that was tot I could only hope my photographs had said som of it. ‘‘Well, John, I’ve come to return your camera) and to really tell you thank you. I mean that, sincerely. I can’t give you any film because yotl have too much already, so here!” There was silence. A rather loud silence. I som expected him to say, ‘Hey, that’s O.K. You're said ‘““‘Hmmmmmm.” John doesn’t say ‘“Hmmmmmm” just once. He says it about three times. I don’t know if it really means he’s thinking, or if he does it for effect. Whatever, it is attention getting — and he had mine. “Well,” I said, “what do you think?’’ “T was wondering what your pictures were.”’ Grabbing at the film, I said ‘There are some of listened. When he finished his instruction I was couple of rolls of film as a ‘‘thank you.” I handed smiled, “‘I think you better keep this one. Youll my house, and this first one is . . .“‘Nothing!”’. them over to him. need it to be a photographer.” .‘Where are my pictures?’ That quarter I knocked myself out doing the very pictures I was capable of because I knew my ‘“‘John-Shupe-loaned camera” had no limits. When the quarter was over I carefully cleaned the camera, inside and out, and even bought a First he refused the film, saying I would need it The situation was clear — as was the film. Something in my camera didn’t work. My able to whisper, ““Thank you, John.” iather’s prized Argus C3 had failed! I had waited three quarters to get into this class, and now, here I was enrolled, but with no camera and no pictures. now that I was a ‘‘photographer,’’ and he had too much film already. Then he said ‘“‘What do you plan to use for a camera next quarter?” I said I didn’t know, but that maybe I could talk my family into buying me one. Completely absorbed in my situation I barely heard John say ‘I have lots of cameras. You can box into mine as he told me I’d better hang on to borrow one of mine.” it until they came through. Page 4 John’s hands once again placed the small black welcome.’ But he didn’t. “Hmmmmmm,”’ he said, followed by two mor short ones. He pushed the camera back to mea I could only stare in total disbelief. But I did keep it. And I did — become a photographer. When I began my career as a freelancer it wast only camera I had. It has been in the repair sho many times, and now is retired, but it holds at honored space of exhibit with the other tre of my three decades. John Shupe and his camera were a point of beginning for me. Each picture I take, even no wonder if John would like how I see the world: