Living and Breathing Photography

Mike Greenlar knew it was about to rain. He felt a stiff breeze blow in from the shores of Onondaga Lake and knew he wouldn’t be able to stay outside for much longer. But Greenlar was not satisfied with the photos he had. One or two more good pictures would do, after about an hour of shooting. 

He flipped the large cylindrical cover he carried in the trunk of his van around to protect his lens, then spotted it: a juvenile eagle. And he knew this one well. He’d shot pictures of it multiple times. Greelar aimed his lens at its nest in a nearby tree.

The bird swooped out for one more flight before the shower blew in, and Greenlar readied his camera. The difference between a good bird picture and a great one is a matter of split seconds, he says.

As soon as he’d lined up the perfect shot, the bird dove behind tree cover in the distance. He was used to missing shots like that, though.  

The eagle emerged from the foliage, and Greenlar caught it: a clear shot of the bird, wings outstretched, taking off into the distant grey skies. 

Greenlar didn’t know if it would get published anywhere, except maybe his Instagram. He was OK with that. 

“Photography is my oxygen,” Greenlar said. “It’s just what I do, it keeps me active.”

Greenlar has been a photojournalist since graduating St. John Fisher College with a journalism degree in 1979. Since then, he’s taken his camera all around the world, publishing two books in his time in the profession. His first, Remnants of a Secret War, brought him to Laos starting in 2000 documenting life in the region after the decades of war. His second, Kokom Lena of the First Nation Algonquin, captures the history of four generations of an Algonquin family in Canada over the course of 20 years. Despite all the travel, Greenlar’s home base has always been in central New York. 

Greenlar retired from his position as a staff photographer at the Syracuse Post-Standard in 2019, but has continued his work as a photojournalist since then. His work has evolved in the past seven years, mainly for the fact that, as a freelance photographer, he has the final say in what he shoots.

One day it’s eagles nested next to Onondaga Lake. The next might be a lacrosse game or assignment with a columnist from Central Current. Greenlar never knows what tomorrow brings, but he always brings a camera with him. 

Recently, he’s accompanied seasoned columnist Sean Kirst for his stories with Central Current. Kirst said his stories wouldn’t be the same without Greenlar’s photography at the top of the page. 

“What’s particularly joyous for me is when we go to a story, I do my thing and he’ll keep an eye on who I’m talking to, to make sure that he works people into the story,”  Kirst said. ”But he has his own independent kind of process of genius.”

One of Greenlar’s favorite assignments with Kirst was a story about the Onondaga County Korea-Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial in downtown Syracuse. The duo went there on Memorial Day to speak to the people who provide upkeep for the monument, two triangular slabs of rock with engravings on both sides. 

“Sean gave me that assignment because it’s kind of like in my wheelhouse,” he said.

His photography for that story showed the people who work to keep the monument in tip-top shape, and the area around it hospitable for people to see it. 

“I have a deep realization that the impact and sweep of my work is transformed by great photography. Mike is a celestial talent,” Kirst said. 

Greenlar remains reserved about his life outside of journalism, but people who’ve worked with him say he’s made major impacts on the lives of those around him. Nancy Kern Eaton, recently retired from a long career in the nonprofit sector in central New York, met Greenlar while working various nonprofit events her organizations were hosting. 

“Mike Greenlar is my hero,” Kern Eaton said. She says he’s the reason Kern Eaton met her husband, Doug, who is also a friend of Greenlar’s; he introduced the two. 

Kern Eaton said that the two things that come to mind instantly when thinking about Greenlar are his compassion and humanity, the eye he has for the human, both in a story and in his life.

Greenlar does not want to do anything other than photojournalism. He smiled to himself as he packed up his equipment on the shores of Onondaga Lake, the rain battering the road behind him. 

“Bury me with a camera,” he said.