Emory Kristof NOGI ARTS 1987

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Bob Evans

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I'm a Fish!
Written by my friend, Dr. Joe MacInnis Sometimes an individual rides into your life with guns blazing and shoots you out of your saddle. So it was with Emory Kristof. We met in 1979, on the roof of the world, at the North Pole. Emory, a staff photographer at National Geographic, was on assignment to the Lorex 79 geo-science project. He was using a new undersea camera to make images of the Lomonosov Ridge at 1,200 meters. I was leading the diving operations to explore the ocean just beneath the ice. When I told him I was searching for a 19th century British shipwreck under the ice of the Northwest Passage, he generously offered to help. His insights and ideas helped us find and explore the wreck and produce a cover story for the Geographic in 1983. Emory was a man with an unwavering belief in himself and his ability to capture images. He could truly see what was in front of him and what might coming his way. For him, paying attention was a form of art. He loved exploring the edge of technology—using new electro-mechanical systems to make portraits deep under the sea. It allowed him to discover what was in the water and what was in himself. We worked together on many projects including a Russian Academy of Sciences study of Siberia’s Lake Baikal, the Beebe project in Bermuda, the Edmund Fitzgerald wreck and the first Imax film on Titanic. In 1989, in a three-mile dive north of the Azores, our Russian research sub struck a canyon wall. The sub tipped back, the lights went out and I smelled adrenaline burning. My biggest fear was that the impact had torn away a through-hull fitting and the full weight of the ocean would burst into the crew cabin and turn us into pink slurry. In the darkness, the pilot examined the electrical system, I fought back panic and checked the oxygen supply. Breathing like a race horse, Emory checked the communication system. Emory and I had made dozens of dives together. I knew if things went wrong, he would help save my life. He, bless him, believed the reciprocal was true. At one point, he leaned in and whispered: “Don’t worry old friend. If that through-hull fitting has sheared off and water comes screaming in here . . . the only thing you’re going to feel is my foot print on your forehead . . . trying to get out of here.” I was on the edge of a Category 5 panic. In his utterly original way, Emory telling me to stay calm. Focus on the checklist. Ten minutes later—the longest year-and-a-half of my life—the pilot switched the lights back on and backed the sub away from the cliff. As we hung in the water, he checked every system for a third time. In the long silence that followed, we looked deep into each others eyes. We would complete the dive. For Emory, making images, like life itself, was slow drilling through hard boards. On land and beneath the sea, tough decisions had to be made with incomplete information, bad options and no sleep. He could be disorderly. To spend time in his Geographic office was to visit a room where piles of paper and books occupied every available space including the floor. “Welcome to my research library,” he joked. Emory loved the sound of his own voice. And enjoyed telling off-colour stories about people and events. Double-cross or deeply disappoint him and he could fill the air with verbal stun grenades. Emory was exuberant, indefatigable. Nothing stopped him or slowed him down. Photography was his calling; the ocean was his home. He inspired all of us who knew him because he lived with the fierce urgency of now. Dr. Joe MacInnis February 10 2023
 
We've lost a lot of friends, Bob.
Pete, miss you pal. Susanne and I will be at the Long Beach Scuba show. Hopefully your rolling in. Let's touch base and thanks for allowing my post on Scubaboard. Emory was a super cool man. Helped me with the NOGI programs. Take care my friend. Love Bob
 
Please do. I'll have to figure out a way to make it work. Tell him to give me a buzz and we'll work something out.
 
https://www.shearwater.com/products/swift/

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