07/28/2026
CAPTURING A MOMENT IN TIME
Back in 1992, I started my photography career without even realizing it. I asked Tom Arviso, Jr., then the Managing Editor, if I could start writing stories because designing the newspaper and advertising was getting boring. He gave me a camera and told me to see Paul, Paul Natonabah. He will tell you what to do.
I went to Paul, told him what Tom said, and we were quickly off in his truck. I asked where we were going. He said the fairgrounds. We were going to shoot the rodeo. Let me remind you, at this time... I didn't even know how to use a camera, and we were using film! He quickly gave me a few photography tips: this is the button to press to take a photo, these dials control the aperture and exposure, and you move this dial on the lens to focus. What?! Then he said, "You only have twelve shots, so don't waste them.”
I held this tool and began to familiarize myself with it: the lens, the focus mechanism, and the viewfinder. I circled the rodeo grounds, way up in the bleachers, looking for a photo to take through the viewfinder. I really had no idea what I was doing or what would happen next.
Paul, you have to know that during this time with me, he was quiet. He observed from a distance. To me, he instructed with few words, simply showing you what to do through his actions. I soon realized that, over the years of knowing him, I admired this in him and have used this perspective in my own life: observe, assess, and then help.
Paul waved at me. He stood in the rodeo pit, in the dirt, in front of the bucking chutes. I stared at him, frozen… Are you kidding me? He kept waving me down to the chutes. I climbed over the board fence and down into the pit, then stumbled through the thick dirt to the chutes. I stood by Paul; my heart was pumping. I was scared; all I had was this little black-and-silver camera to hide behind. Lucky for me, that day it was only bull riding, NOT! I was out of my element; I wanted to get out of there.
The chute opened, and I mimicked Paul’s every move. We positioned ourselves at a safe distance from the rider and bull so our images would be in focus. I was just trying not to die. Then, without warning, the bull turned, and I ran the wrong way. Paul went one way, and I went the other. I thought the bull was chasing me, but it was just doing “bull stuff,” and I was in the way. As I ran in front of the bull, I quickly captured a couple of photos.
From then on, I was hooked! Paul and I went back to the Navajo Times darkroom, and he taught me how to develop film. We talked enthusiastically about the rodeo and laughed about almost being trampled by a bull. I told him the truth about not knowing how to use a camera. He was surprised, and from that moment on, we finally had something to talk about.
Over the years, I became the Managing Editor and Paul’s boss. I remember the first time he called me boss. He said, “I knew you would be boss one day. From the moment I saw you running from that bull, I knew you would be someone important. Not everyone has the guts to climb into a rodeo pit to capture a moment in time, and I’m not talking just about the rodeo.”
Today, when people ask me when I started using a camera, I share this moment in my life with more detail and emotion. I will miss you, Sik’uzzii! We had some good times, laughs, talks, and late-night mishaps at the newspaper. You always had my back, and I will continue to have yours. Through my work and stories, I will share our rodeo experience in the future. It will live on forever.
Side Note: You were probably wondering what happened to the photos I took on this first outing: one of them won an award at the annual Arizona Newspaper Association conference. Thank you, Tom and Paul. You have been great leaders and mentors to this little rez kid. True story.
Paul Natonabah, whose photographs documented more than four decades of Diné history for the Navajo Times, died Saturday, July 25. He was 82.
