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With its spectacular graphics and photography, and its beautifully written narrative, âSnow Fall: The Avalanche at Tunnel Creekâ was a compelling project, even for those who might not have been particularly interested in the topic.
The effort, which appeared last week, received around 2.9 million visits, and the visitors shared some qualities that are much desired by The Times. First, many of them â" maybe as many as one-third - were new visitors to The Times. Second, they spent a lot of time with the project, about 12 minutes, which amounts to eons for a single digital story.
In an e-mail to the newsroom, Jill Abramson, the executive editor, called it a âwildly new reading experience.â She summed it up by noting that ârarely have we been able to create a compelling destination outside the home page that was so engaging in such a short period of time on the Web.â
Clearly, this is something The Times hopes to do more of, and others will undoubtedly do it, as well. The Web site PaidContent wrote about it at length in a piece this week on a major media trend of 2012, âThe Rise of the E-Single.â
Not every Times reader was happy with every aspect of the project, though. John Ray of Fairfield, Conn., objected to its being treated as a âbreaking news alert,â which was one of the ways The Times let its readers know of its existence. He wrote that wording of the alert, âThe Avalance at Tunnel Creek,â created anxiety:
Considering what we in our region, especially here in Connecticut, have been through lately, another possible disaster or horrible story made me jump. I shortly learned this was an evergreen p iece someone at The Times decided to promote in a very inappropriate way.
Bob Dowling of Rowayton, Conn., recognized its unusual quality but would prefer The Times to spend its efforts on meatier topics:
As a skier and mountain climber I care a lot about avalanches. But even I needed to reserve an hour the next day to read the section and wondered why. Wonderfully written and reported but so what!â¦
So I wondered: what if they spent six months and 14 pages with that kind of detailed reporting on the kids killed in Newtown. Asking âHow does it feel at the moment when a .223 Bushmaster dum-dum bullet enters the forehead? How about 11 of them? How do you squeeze off six rounds a second?
Have the reporter try it, have a pro try it. Give us the visual. Even better, set up the classroom with dummy kids and do the scene in print and visual with sound. Compare it to a video game that Adam Lanza played. That kind of detailed reconst ruction could change the terms of the gun debate.
Clearly, The Times is experimenting with new forms of storytelling â" and new ways to thrive in the digital age.
Another reader, Asa Pefferman, offered effusive praise and a hint of its important appeal to a new generation:
I was blown away by the avalanche text-video piece you guys did and I just wanted to let you know that it was great. I'm 24, get all my news online, and have never considered subscribing to any news service but that whole presentation made me reconsider. Please do more of that and don't let it be just an experiment. Also, as a graphic designer, I really appreciate a nice layout, and that was a big part of the appeal. So thanks for the good experience!
While I don't dismiss the concerns of some readers, the project was an impressive new way to tell a compelling story. Its popularity bodes well for a newspaper company that is reinventing itself â " because, like all newspaper companies, it must.
You're piggybacking on your brother's shoulders, the wind on your face as you run through the grass. You're messy, climbing, hair astray. You're belly-down on a swing. Flying.
In his series of carefully composed black-and-white images that make up âLa Famille,â the French photographer Alain Laboile has captured a sense of youthful freedom through the exploits of his six children.
Mr. Laboile publishes his photos in serial form, sharing them with the world from the user name âlab oilâ on Flickr. They are simple, beautiful moments.
A sculptor by trade, Mr. Laboile bought a sm all digital camera to photograph his work in 2004. He became interested in macro photography and later began documenting the children: Four girls - Olyana, now 16; Luna, 14; Dune, 5; and Nil, 4 - and two boys - Merlin, 12, and Eliott, 18, a student who now lives in Bordeaux.
Theirs is a family photo album thrown before the world. Taken as a whole, the images do not evoke anything specific, so much as a feeling. Mr. Laboile's constant presence has rendered his lens nearly invisible; the children continue their games, rarely acknowledging the camera. He never asks the children to pose, but if one of them doesn't like a picture he has taken, he won't publish it online.
He originally joined an online photography community seeking com ments and criticism from other photographers. âWhen social networks appeared,â he wrote in French via e-mail, âI continued to share this with my friends, then gradually with strangers around the world.â
The reception, he said, has been a pleasant surprise â" comments from people whose own childhood memories are stirred by the images. The feedback encouraged him to continue sharing the work.
When one commenter noted that the photos have the feel of street photography, Mr. Laboile happily adopted the idea. âI really liked the analogy,â he said.
Most of the viewers are drawn to the nostalgic quality of the work. âThat's a sweet reminder of youthful delight,â one commenter wrote on a photo posted to Flickr last week.
Mr. Laboile was born in Gironde, in the southwest of France, in 1968. He never left. He likes to think of the stream that borders his family's property as a boundary between the realm that is theirs and the world everyone else inhabits. âThe stream on the edge of the world,â he said.
Despite his careful documentation, Mr. Laboile has only one picture from his own childhood. âThe practice of photography isn't a family legacy, but a personal passion,â he said.
What happens when the children grow up?
âI think I will continue, as long as there are children at home,â Mr. Laboile said, but he added that while he had other types of photography to explore, the family album remained a constant.
And maybe, he mused, there will be grandchildren down the road.
Mr. Laboile's images from âLa Familleâ are on display through Feb. 8 at the Centre Communal d'Action Sociale in Bordeaux. They were exhibited at the Salon de la Photo in Paris and Galerie L'Area in Nice, and, more recently, were projected at the Angkor Photo Festival in Cambodia.
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