Cynthia J Kohll Photography

01/14/2025

One night in late October, my husband Joshua and I scoured the globe looking for an interesting place to travel with our family during our kids' college winter break. Twenty-four hours later, we booked tickets to Morocco, North Africa.

Needless to say, we are not big planners!

It was a long and exhausting trip, but we made it. Arriving late, our first night was in Casablanca which is the business center of Morocco. We were nestled among many large hotels and near the port and Medina (a.k.a. Old City).

We awoke the following morning and strolled to the Medina which is surrounded by a continuous large brick wall. It is filled with various markets. My camera was hanging off my shoulder as I was ready to photograph as many people that would allow.

We wandered until we were approached by a Moroccan man who signaled us to visit a shop filled with rugs and argan oils. We listened to the schpeils but were not too interested in purchasing these products, although we eventually bought a few oils.

We headed out of that shop only to be approached again by another man who took our hand to be our private tour guide. We walked along the narrow streets until we saw a woman sitting on a stoop. We knew she did not speak English, but she was well aware that I wanted to photograph her. I gently asked her as I lifted my camera to my face to look through the viewfinder. She looked at me angrily and said something in Arabic that I knew had to do with wanting money. So, I pulled out a dollar bill and handed it to her. She did not seem to know what to do with it. Suddenly several men came running up offering her to change it to their Moroccan Dirham. We suspected that she did not trust any of these men with the exchange rate. So, I took the dollar back and pulled out some Moroccan Dirham (money) and just like that, she posed for me.

For the record, we were advised before our travels to bring dollar bills, but quickly learned that no one was really interested in American money.

We said “good-bye” and continued our tour with the man who had become our guide. When he finished and guided us out the main entrance, we gave him what he was expecting (and deserved): Moroccan Dirham.

Next stop, Fes…

05/13/2024

During the beginning of the millennium, I spent 2 months in South America.

I was based in Santiago, Chile where my sister, Allison was working. I was hungry for adventures that involved my camera and I was eager to find them.

Shortly after arriving, just my luck that I had learned former President Augusto Pinochet was rumored to return from Britain.

Who was he and why was he returning?

Here’s a quick history lesson.

In 1973, then General Pinochet formed a coup that led to either the current President, Salvador Allende’s assisination or possible su***de which is still debated today. Pinochet subsequently became the President of Chile from 1974 to 1990. He is accused of many human rights violations including torturing and killing thousands in National Stadium as well as other various atrocities. In 1998 while recovering from back surgery in London, he was arrested for “charges of genocide and terrorism that include murder” and followed by house arrest on the grounds of the Wentworth Club.

It all seemed quite absurd, but half of Chile still supported him when I was there.

During my visit, I accompanied photographers from the Santiago Associated Press covering stories on Pinochet’s possible return. They took me to various torture chambers and showed me the stadium where a lot of these crimes took place.

On March 3, 2000 - Britain decided to release Pinochet due to his declining health. His return to Chile struck chords on both sides of the fence.

I had just returned the day before from traveling through Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil and was eager to have the opportunity to photograph the current political strife that was happening all around me.

I made my way to protests and homecomings both filled with people in the thousands awaiting for Pinochet to show his face. I listened to the sounds in a language that I barely understood. I felt the mixed emotions all around me.

Needless to say, I never saw President Augusto Pinochet. He seemed to mysteriously slide back into Chile without actually appearing in public that day. However, the images I captured that day obviously showed the sentiments that surrounded me.

That was one of the many experiences I had during my 2 month visit.

04/18/2024

I began my career as a freelance photographer for the Associated Press.

In order to be qualified, there were two things I needed. The first was to have a portfolio showing that I could capture the moment and the second was to have availability. In order to be available, I had to carry a beeper. It seems very antiquated now especially since I already carried a flip cell phone, but that’s how they did it.

When the beeper went off, I called in to get the details for the assignment. Sometimes it was right away, but usually I had some time to plan ahead. They were mainly in the Omaha area (where I was based at the time) but occasionally they would be further out.

On one particular assignment, I was asked to travel 90 minutes to Sioux City, Iowa to meet with a retired Army Sergeant named Vernon Tott.

Vernon was in his 70’s at the time and after 50 years had recently come across several photographs in an old dusty shoe box in his basement. These photos were taken while he served during WW2.

What made these pictures interesting?

This is the story Vernon shared with me while he neatly placed each photo across his table.

On April 10, 1945, Vernon, 20 and his buddies were sitting at a crossroad in his radio jeep outside of Hanover, Germany. They looked down the dirt road as the sun was coming up and someone was waving at them. They drove down with a couple of other truckloads of riflemen to the group of men. Upon arrival, it was clear that it was a slave labor camp for Jews. Despite the fact that were was a sign hanging on the barbed wire displaying a warning to the SS not to enter for fear of lice and disease, they forged ahead to what was the Ahlem-Hanover concentration camp

They could not believe what they saw. Sickly men who could barely stand, sitting in their urine and f***s while others were cold and stiff, dressed in rags, dead for days, laying in piles and trash bins.

Although Vernon was not sure at the time why, he decided to capture this memory as nothing but proof of what he witnessed on that horrific day.

He took 18 photos with this Kodak camera he purchased for $1 in a pawn shop while training with his Infantry in New Orleans. He sent the photos home and when he was discharged he put them away.

In 1995, as Vernon’s health was deteriorating, he read a notice in the 84th Infantry Newsletter. Benjamin Sieradzki, a Jewish survivor of the Ahlem camp, had posted an inquiry looking for the young, blond soldier who took photos of survivors on the day of their liberation. Vernon realized he was the soldier Sieradzki was looking for. He retrieved the photos and contacted Sieradzki. Thus began the search to locate the men in Vernon’s photos.

The journey changed their lives forever. These survivors called him their Angel.

Vernon spent the last 10 years of his life connecting with these survivors. Each of these reunions became an entirely new story. In 2003, he was honored at the US Holocaust Memorial Museum.

Vernon passed away in 2005.

In 2007, a documentary called “Angel of Ahlem” premiered at Lincoln Center where Henry Kissinger gave the opening speech.

Vernon gave me a copy of a booklet he made that shared his story, photos and reunions that followed. I donated it to the Omaha Jewish Community Center Library.

I felt very lucky and honored to have met Vernon that day.

03/26/2024

I’ve always had a love for creating art but never thought I would ever make a career of it.

When I was growing up, I took many types of art classes and for years painted on canvas with local renown artists that taught me many different methods.

Then one day, just before my 31st birthday, I was on vacation and had accidentally purchased a black and white roll of film for my camera. When I got the photos developed, I was instantly amazed and suddenly realized I had a newfound interest in photography.

So, when my parents asked if there was something special I wanted for my birthday, I asked for a photography class at the School of Visual Arts. Otherwise known in New York as SVA.

My friend, Jeffrey, who was an accomplished photographer working for Olgivy, accompanied me to B & H Photo to purchase my first professional camera, a 35mm Canon. B & H was located on 17th Street between 6th and 7th Avenues at the time. It was nothing like the mega store it is now.

My class met a couple evenings a week. We were taught the basics starting with black and white which is still my favorite today. Our photography assignments were anything from landscapes, stills, action shots to portraits, etc. We discussed everything from composition to film processing.

I found it fascinating to be able to shoot film during my lunch hour in the streets of Soho and to be able to see the results that evening in the darkroom.

Many weekends, I would rent darkroom space in Midtown Manhattan spending hours developing film while listening to music on my headphones. I was captivated by the entire process in these small unlit rooms.

I looked forward to each class as I strolled through Gramercy Park to the mid-rise building on 21st Street. All the students shared their images and discussed different processes as we not only learned from our instructor but also each other.

My sole interest became almost entirely about photography outside of my regular working hours.

Jeffrey was not only my friend, but my “go to” for the world of photography. He would take me to various photo exhibits at museums and galleries. These shows eventually inspired me for future documentaries and shows. They provided me with insights and made me really think.

When I first made the decision to take that class at SVA, I did not know that it would turn into a nearly 3 decade career.

I did not know that this profession would take me into the lives of people that I was just as familiar with and those I was not. It took me to small towns, big cities and foreign countries. It took me to spectacular parties, informative meetings and dangerous war zones.

There’s something about having a camera in your hand that seems to give you power. In my view, there is no such thing as an uninteresting photo job.

This occupation has taken me places I know I would have never experienced if I did not accidentally purchase that black and roll film nearly 30 years ago.

03/19/2024

Every March, over a million Sandhill Cranes land in Nebraska along an 80 mile stretch of rivers and marshlands before venturing off to various northern destinations. I had passed them many times along the highway but had never seen them up close, until we moved next door to the Director of the Omaha Henry Doorly Zoo.

A few months after we moved in, our neighbors and new friends told us they organized tours for outings to see the Sandhill Cranes. They asked if we wanted to join them. I thought it would be a great adventure especially for my husband who was new to Midwest life. I also had an interest to photograph these feathered friends up close - and to be guided by the zoo director would be a special treat.

It was a cloudy and cold March - and a 2.5 hour drive to Kearney, Nebraska. We arrived in the late afternoon. The plan was to go out just before sunset and again the next day before sunrise.

Now, I would never consider myself an outdoorsman. I love skiing in the mountains and I love to run outside, but otherwise - I’m a true urbanite. I prefer the city over the country. However, I was eager to endure this new experience.

After arriving at our motel, we boarded shuttle buses that took a couple dozen of us bird watchers to our destination. We were driven to a large open field off the Platte River and took a 10 minute walk to a couple of “blinds” built for bird watching. The blinds were small, wooden hut structures with window openings for viewing.

It was a short wait before the cranes began flying through, hundreds and hundreds at a time. They landed about 200 feet in front of us all along the river as the sun was setting. This is where they settle for the evening. I grabbed as many shots as quickly as I could. It was really a beautiful sight as they found their resting place under the beautiful sunset. We all met for a community dinner at a nearby cabin before heading back to try and get a decent night of sleep.

The next morning, we awoke well before dawn to head out for the sunrise edition of the tour. We took the same shuttle to the same big open field near the river that we walked through but unfortunately had turned bitterly cold and windy. I had my camera in hand and wore my fingerless photography gloves. Needless to say, I was absolutely freezing. I just wanted to get to the blind, get my photos and get back to anywhere that was warm.

Well, we patiently waited for the cranes to start venturing off as the sun began to rise. They slowly took off in the air as we watched in awe under the gorgeous Nebraska sunrise.

I was able to get my photos and one was even used for several years on the Nebraska Sandhill Crane page.

If you have not experienced this, I highly recommend traveling to Nebraska now for this spectacular sight.

03/13/2024

I work out every day.

It’s been a big part of my life since my junior year of college. It all began when I was upset over some guy and needed to snap out of it quickly. So just like that, I began attending an aerobics class a few times a week.

The workouts were always scheduled in the evenings. I made sure I ate dinner early so that the food was digested well before the classes began.

It was the 1980’s and we were dressed in colorful polyester warm up pants with elastic at the ankles covered with socks going half way up our calves and high ponytails.

We listened to a mixed cassette tape of the latest hits on a boombox that accompanied our instructor, Brenda. Our classes were held on one side of our small New England college gymnasium. We jumped and sweated through her vigorous routines while glancing at cute boys playing hoops on the other.

It made me feel better and I suppose it helped me finally get over that guy.

I continued my workouts after graduation. I joined gyms, master swim teams, took up long distance and off-road biking. Then, one day, in my mid-twenties, I decided I wanted to start running.

I was on the track team in Junior High but was considered a sprinter. Whenever the coach would instruct us to go on a long training run, I would hide with a friend behind the school until we were supposed to return. Long distance running was never my thing, but suddenly I had the urge to give it a try.

I still remember purchasing my first pair of running shoes on sale for about $30 at the local department store. I would go early in the morning before work and run one mile, then 2, then 3, until I reached 5. It was often still dark and I didn’t feel safe, so a friend suggested I reach out to a running group he knew about.

The group met three times a week at 5:45 a.m. in a parking lot at a fitness center near my home. I was always the slowest runner but it was this particular group of individuals who inspired me to run 26.2 miles and complete 5 marathons and it was this group where I also forged lifelong friendships.

When my daughter was born, I purchased a jogging stroller and ran with her in Central Park. Once we placed 2nd in a 5 mile Mommy and Me race. However, when my son was born the following year, I quickly realized it was just too hard to push both, especially uphill.

Today, I no longer am part of a running group. I run with my Apple Airpods listening to classic rock, Howard Stern interviews or various podcasts. I run about every other day and do intense weight training or the elliptical on the others.

I know that working out makes me healthier as well as seeing more clearly through life’s challenges. It also helps bring me ideas and life meaning. I know I can’t always control what tomorrow brings, but I do what I can for today.

03/05/2024

Shortly after I turned 29, I moved from my hometown of Omaha to New York City. It was a convergence of junctures that was happening in my life that helped me make this decision.

I first visited New York 10 years prior to my move while attending college in Boston. My freshman year roommate was from there and she took me home for a visit introducing me to Bloomingdale’s, Danceteria and Taxi Cabs.

Needless to say, my view of the city was love at first sight.

My first apartment was located in the heart of the Upper East Side. During the weekdays, I worked in midtown and afterwards went running in Central Park. On Saturday evenings, I took the train to the East and West Villages wandering the streets and clubs with friends and ventured back with long taxi rides to my apartment into the wee hours of the night.

I discovered new fashion trends while walking down the streets. I quickly learned the art of style and sophistication.

It was in New York where I truly began my deep appreciation for the arts. I frequently visited museums and galleries and began taking photography courses at the School of Visual Arts and a few years later it was painting at the Arts Students League. I joined the Theater Development Fund and saw Broadway and off Broadway shows on a regular basis.

Ironically, I met my husband of 22 years while briefly residing abroad. When he told me he grew up on the Upper West Side, I knew we’d find a common ground. During our first 10 years of marriage, we resided in 3 different parts of the city. We both enjoyed exploring various eateries and seeking new adventures that the city had to offer.

Need I forget to add, that both of my children were also brought into this world at NYU Hospital on Murray Hill. The first 8 and 9 years of their lives, I began to see the city through a different light. This time it was through their little bright eyes from a double stroller I pushed throughout the streets, parks and museums. We had so much fun together during their early formative years.

We left New York 11 ½ years ago and moved to my hometown. I have no regrets for our decision. My kids formed a closer relationship with their grandparents and we began a new appreciation for space.

I still visit once or twice a year. It always feels like my home away from home.

My time in New York made a large impact on how I think and see things. It helped form who I am today and for that I also have no regrets.

02/28/2024

Growing up I had an exotic doll collection from all over the world. They sat high on shelves near the ceiling surrounding 3 walls in my childhood bedroom. A few of the dolls I had were from Japan. They were Geisha dolls that were a gift from my grandparents who traveled there. I loved how their hair, makeup and clothing were perfectly in place.

Japan was never really on the horizon during my early adult traveling days, but when my college aged daughter (whose minor was Japanese) chose to do a semester abroad there. I jumped at the chance to finally go.

Would I finally have the chance to see a Geisha in person?

My husband and I were definitely going to take the opportunity to take this trip. We chose to visit over the Thanksgiving holiday so that we could bring my son who is also in college.

We arrived in Tokyo on a cool November evening with my camera in tow. I had no idea what to expect with millions of people crowded everywhere. I had lived in New York City for many years, but it did not compare with the mass amounts of people scattered about. Long lines for restaurants and stores were common.

We spent a couple of days in Tokyo before boarding the infamous rapid Bullet Train to take the 2 hour trip to Kyoto. I was amazed how the crowds amassed. People were everywhere. We visited the Bamboo Forest, Fushimi Anari Shrine, the Fish Market and Shinkyogoku Shopping Mall. Yet, I yearned to see a Geisha with Geiko Shimada hair, Oshiroi makeup, dressed in a traditional colorful Kimono.

We finally wandered to Gion which is the Geisha District. I was anxiously awaiting to put my photojournalistic skills to work to see a live Geisha doll. We read that it’s best to arrive just before dusk as that is when these Japanese entertainers venture off to their evening’s objective. That is when their shifts begin where they are hired to entertain with song, dance and indulge in conversation.

We found ourselves scrambling from one street to the next searching down every narrow side road and alleyway. We saw how they swiftly traveled to their destinations. They appeared almost as quickly as they disappeared.

Then, we stumbled upon a real live Geisha house and saw we were not the only stalkers. They also had their cameras ready to go. I decided it would be here where I would be able to capture the perfect shot. I just needed to wait.

Then, a few minutes later, right before our eyes, what seemed faster than a speeding bullet, came a Geisha quickly strolling out of the house and into a taxi awaiting to take her away. I felt like a paparazzi photographer on the red carpet. And just like that, I got my shot and finally saw that Geisha doll come alive that was sitting upon my childhood bedroom shelf.

01/03/2024

06/30/2023

Happy 20th Birthday Izzy!

02/14/2022

10/31/2021

One of my favorite Halloween photos from Salem, Massachusetts a few years ago!

Happy Halloween!