Melchior DiGiacomo A Prince

Cafalu Sicily © Melchior DiGiacomo

Circa 1972.    There was a small group of photographers in New York City that came together and were not only competitors but friends.  Both JoAnne and I met Melchior at a New York Ranger Hockey Game.  Suffice to say, Melchior was a world- class hockey photographer.  JoAnne and I were just starting out our photographic careers as a team together.  Melchior was an extremely generous person.  If a younger photographer had questions Melchior would go out of his way to share experience, in this particular case with ice hockey.  His eye-hand coordination in the days of single punch photography was again world class.   When we moved into motor driven cameras his work only got better.   In our business he was known as an under shooter   Three periods of hockey, each period 20 minutes and by that, what  I mean is every frame counted.  He did not waste film.  His career spanned over a half century.   He was a gem during the Golden Age of Photography.  

Both JoAnne and I were honored to call Melchior a friend.  He went onto being one of the greatest tennis, rugby and overall sports photographers.  Once he put his mind to doing something he did it amazingly well.   The photographic community has lost a great photographer and a generous contributor. 

below photo © John Ferrentino

Screenshot

30 Years and Nothing Has Changed

As a photographer, one of the first things you learn is eye-hand coordination. Your ability to look at 300 people, 7 people, front-lit, back-lit, and see the photo that you want to make. And before you can even think about it, you’ve made 3 or 4, each one a variation of a theme, not just a motor sequence. Making back lit adjustments on the fly, always thing about where the next photograph is going to come. That’s the good news. The bad news can be all of those things that work against you. And you miss the obvious. It’s happened to me before, and I’m pretty sure it’ll happen to me again. You never want to have blinders on. You want to be open to new lighting, new composition, new stories, and new direction. Invariably, you will grow and your work will improve accordingly. While looking at this very beautiful young lady and preparing to do a very shallow, depth of field simple photograph, I look down and to my right and saw one eye and one sideburn and a little bit of a mustache. I said “Oh my god, could that be Melchior  DiGiacomo?” I took the photograph, looked down, I tapped him on the shoulder, and he said “Joe D., just a minute”. I guess it’s like two chubby italians meeting in the daylight, or is that two ships in the night? I can never get it right. The funny thing about it is I haven’t seen Melchoir in 30 years. And my god, nothing’s changed! It’s good that there is some consistency in this universe.