Photo & Article by Marco Angelo B. Mercado | The Red Chronicles
When people think of student photographers, they often picture someone standing behind a camera at school events — clicking, adjusting settings, and maybe uploading an album the next day. To most, it is coverage. Documentation. A task. But after years behind the lens for The Red Chronicles, I have come to realize that student photography is far more than that. It is responsibility — one we do not talk about enough.
We don’t just take pictures. We tell stories. We preserve moments that may otherwise be forgotten. We shape how events are remembered — who is seen, what is spotlighted, and what is left out. In many ways, we control the first draft of history within the four walls of law school.
We attempt to capture the truth of what is happening. It can be anything. The truth can please and it can hurt. It carries weight and accountability for people in power. The truth can seem different from different angles. That is why you see us TRC photographers always moving around during events. We attempt to show you the truth in all the ways we see it, yet we can never show you all the ways the truth can be seen.
When protests erupted along España, EDSA, or Mendiola, we were there. When the Bedan institution recognized and awarded those who were deserving, we were there. When the gates of Alabang Hills Village were filled with both tension and triumph during the ingress and egress of bar examinees, we were still there. We are quiet, observing, and capturing. With our lenses, we witness the becoming of the society we intend to one day serve with our aspirations of becoming a lawyer with our own unique skills. While others move on to the next case reading or exam, we return to our files, choosing which photo best represents the truth of that moment. That is power. That is the influence. And, that is responsibility.
Yes, we are often on the sidelines—unseen, unnoticed. You only recognize us when the photos are published, when the moments we captured begin to circulate. Yet behind each image is a student journalist quietly working, framing the milestones and everyday scenes that mark the progress of our institution. We remain mostly invisible, but our work speaks for itself. These photographs are not just documentation—they are part of the curation of our school’s living history.
You come to us when you need the photo, the shot, the proof of a moment. But rarely do you see us in these moments. We don’t necessarily seek the spotlight; what we seek is something deeper: respect for the craft and responsibility of student journalism. Our presence may be silent, but our contribution is loud. We help shape how this institution will remember itself. That, too, deserves acknowledgment.
To be a student photographer in law school is to be an artist, an activist, and an archivist. If we do our jobs well, we’re not just serving our publication — we are serving our community. We are making sure that years from now, when new batches walk these halls, just like the one along the pathway going to St. Maurs, they will have a visual map of the culture, crises, and victories that shaped the Happiest Law School in the universe.
NOTE TO THE READERS: Volume XVIII, Issue 2, penned and published by The Red Chronicles, is a Back Issue for the Publication Year 2024-2025. Note that this article aligns with the events relevant to the previous Academic Year 2024-2025. For further viewing of the same, you may view the flipbook version or visit our official website at theredchronicles.net.