In my intense struggle to find a visual footing in my new neighborhood, Chattanooga, Tennessee, with it’s hazy light, muted skies, and murky water, I took a stab at photojournalism, which I thought might provide a beat, and an excuse to roam, chat with strangers, learn something, and run across art shots along the way. Here’s my photo essay about the Chickamauga Dam and one of its consequences, the Chickamauga Lake.

But, according to my mentor, a true photojournalist would visit his/her subject area every day for a month, get inside one of those boats, and follow one of those human subjects to wherever they decided to go next, maybe a party. Was he kidding? LOL_at Chickamauga Dam and Lake, Chattanooga, Tennessee.