As many of you know. our dear friend, DAN SHERIDAN, passed away Wednesday, March 21st at home with his wife, Betty by his side.
We'd like to invite everyone to send in their thoughts, memories and pictures of Dan to share with everyone on this web page.
Please email them to: Dan@winstonsound.com and include Dan's name in the Subject.
Also, please visit the Dan Sheridan Photo Gallery
DAN SHERIDAN is a husband, father of two, and Philadelphia-area Director of Photography
who is no longer struggling with a particularly pernicious form of brain cancer.
He lives on in our hearts and memories.
F I N A L
J O U R N E Y
The Trip To Ireland's Vale of Avoca
A Little Note from Megan Sheridan
I think just about everyone knew my Dad.
Whether we were at the mall, a park, the city or in some restaurant, we were bound to meet someone he knew and have at least a five minute conversation with them. If they didn't know of him directly they knew someone whose brother knew my Dad
or something of that sort.
Dealing with his death thus far, has been the hardest experience of my life. The one thing that makes it better is knowing that a part of him is living in each one of us.
He wasn't the guy whose funeral you went to out of respect, it was the one you
went to because you connected with my Dad on some level-- spiritual, mental or physical. All the time I think of all the people he knew and how probably at this moment there must be someone else thinking about him too.
I know that he has taught me so much and, in so many ways I am like him. I miss him so much but I know that rather than suffering, he is looking down on us and giving us the strength we need.
In eighth grade I did a video for school in which of course, my Dad spent at least
an hour setting up the basement, transforming it into a little studio with just the right lighting, set, and camera equipment. One of his many friends helped him edit it, and at the end he encouraged me and my friends to sing a song. We sang "Lean On Me." That song comes to mind whenever I am down; knowing that I have so many people to lean on.
My Dad was always that person before, and for a while towards the end he was the one leaning on us. However, in his death, I learned to once again go to him, and he helps me carry on everyday.
I wanted to share with you all my deepest gratitude for being there for me and my
family through this. Don't hesitate to keep in touch just because he isn't here physically. Because he is in all of our hearts and souls.
My God this is the hardest thing I have ever tried to write...
A Source Of Light
What do you say about a man that has been an inspiration, both personally and professionally to so many of us?
From his Emmy Award winning days at NFL Films, to a freelance career as a Director of Photography which took him to too many places to mention, Dan Sheridan has always been a source of light to everyone he met.
Every frame he has shot has been a painting of light and form. His ability to find that perfect frame that no one else on the set could see can be nothing short of a gift.
For the past several years, most of Dan's work has been creating films for the Healthcare industry. He approached the patients and their families with sincere kindness, always leaving behind more than he took away. And, throughout this past year he has fought this vicious cancer - with the bravery and heart of a warrior and the spirit of a man who trusts in God. Each time any of has seen him in the past year his first question has been "How are you?" He has carried on his chosen role as mentor, counselor and trusted friend despite his illness.
In so many ways he has been that source of light that has made our all-too-often grueling days enjoyable. In so many ways he has been that element of continuity we all need to tell our stories well. This cause is one that Dan would have been the first to commit to had any of us been in his place.
There is too little beauty in our world and it is incomprehensibly difficult to imagine losing someone who always captured it so profoundly. The time and cost anyone invests in this effort is a very small price to pay for the priveledge of calling Dan Sheridan your friend.
- Richard Schwartz
We work in a strange business. At it's best, the work we do allows us to step into other people's lives, if only for a few hours.
Once, I was working in Vermont on an interview with Reverend William Sloan Coffin, who came to national attention as a champion of civil rights in the 50's and 60's.
We tore his house apart ... moved all his furniture, just to interview him in front of a black background. When he expressed his dismay at all the fuss for a simple interview, the cameraman (who was not Dan Sheridan) said, "We spend most of our time getting the light to do exactly what we want it to do."
"That's the difference between your business and mine," replied Reverend Coffin, "I have always tried to do what the Light wants us to do."
Dan Sheridan always knew what the Light wanted to do. It was his gift... to all of us.
I don't know what happens to us when we leave this life. But I like to think that Dan is now a part of all the light around each one of us.
And those of us who knew and worked with him will never be able to see daylight bounced into a reflector, or the play of dappled sunshine across a wall without thinking of Dan.
That's his gift to us too.
- David Winston
AN EDITOR REMEMBERS DAN SHERIDAN
April 6, 2001
In my heyday as a freelance editor at MBC, I became aware of Dan
initially through seeing only his camera reels presented to me to log,
pull, assemble and cut. Several years passed before Dan and I were
finally introduced, yet I remember being immediately struck by the
quality of his images. When I first asked a director, "Who shot this
footage?" a question came in response, "Why, what's wrong?" I answered,
"Nothing. It's gorgeous." Eventually these dialogues became
streamlined thusly: "Dan?" "Dan."
I came to look forward to simply beginning a project shot by Dan because
his raw footage was always rich with treasures, virtually all of it
usable (a rarity) and strong evidence confirming my growing regard for
him as an artist with a camera. The pictures captured by Dan's camera
were not just consistently excellent. To me they often seemed
brilliant, and sometimes the work of a genius. What's more, Dan would
often "edit in camera," meaning that the moments he chose to start and
stop his camera were invisible messages to me, the editor, suggesting
wordlessly how I might build the sequence. I was too dumb to notice at
first, but when it finally hit me it was a revelation. Years later,
when I asked him about this, Dan was typically self-effacing, flatly
denying it. "That's all in your head," he'd laugh. But I liked to
think we both knew better.
In 1994, when I was asked to write, produce and direct for the first
time, it was for a generously funded project promoting the
internationally acclaimed American Boychoir. Eager to hire Dan, he was
the first person I asked to participate. Finally having a chance to
actually work alongside him excited me infinitely more than the prospect
of writing, producing and directing. Green and terrified to start, I
was soon delighted to observe that the person responsible for the fine
footage I'd been screening and cutting all those years was also a
lovely, very special spirit. Dan's sure-footedness, creativity,
enthusiasm and good humor were infectious to a uniformly fine crew, our
subjects and me. In his good hands I felt capable and competent, safe
and warm. As a first-time director I had a glorious surprise in store
too, a magical bonus.
In the early days of the shoot, as we'd arrive at a location, set up and
get ready to roll tape, I'd look at the shot list and start cooking up
images in my head, sometimes with very specific expectations of
movement, angle, framing or lighting. I'd be off in a creative haze,
awakened upon hearing Dan ask nonchalantly, "How's this?" Then I'd come
and look at the monitor and see my shot. I'm not kidding. The same
shot. "This is weird," I told him. "How'd you do that?" He'd smile
and say nothing, or confirm simply, "So, it's okay?" It was.
After shooting the next night, I told Dan over beers and burgers I'd
come to a personal conclusion about this uncanny repeating occurrence,
and it was this: In the many years I'd spent looking at Dan's raw
footage, I was unaware that something marvelous had been happening to
me. Even before meeting this remarkable man, he'd been teaching me.
Although a seasoned editor, I was happy to be shown by Dan that my
profession could still offer me unexpected growth and learning. His
camera reels were always a personally guided tour of the shoot, of
course. But his footage overflowed with ideas, a rich and varied visual
vocabulary, always with gentle clues dropped guiding me to what was
important in each scene. So I told him, "Watching all your raw footage
taught me how to direct." But Dan laughed and flatly denied it, saying,
"That's all in your head."
Since my editing career has gone belly up, I've been shopping around for
more projects to write, produce and direct. Yesterday I made a
presentation to prospective clients who asked to meet me after watching
the American Boychoir video that Dan photographed. When it began to
look like they might actually award me the contract, I started to get
excited again at the prospect of seeing Dan and working alongside him
once more. I announced with eagerness and pride my intention to use the
same cameraman again. The meeting adjourned and I was asked to provide
references, so I spent this morning calling around asking professional
colleagues if they'd be willing to say nice things about me. While on
the phone with Jeffrey Berry, he inquired, "Who's going to shoot it?"
Without hesitation I replied, "Dan Sheridan!" Jeffrey sounded puzzled,
as if he didn't know him. I said, "Don't you know Dan? He's the
best." That's when Jeffrey tentatively said, "I think he just died,"
and I felt a rush of fear, like I'd been pushed out a window.
I quickly called Medical Broadcasting Company looking for someone,
anyone who could tell me the truth, but the receptionist was a stranger
to me and no comfort. I started rattling off names of people but it
seemed nobody I knew was around. I was relieved when at last the woman
said, "Carra Minkoff," and soon Carra came on the phone. As I learned
the recent, grievous truth, I also heard of the tremendous outpouring of
love at Dan's memorial service, and I held back inexplicable anger
wondering why the hell nobody had told me about it in time. Perhaps I
didn't know Dan as intimately as some of you reading this, but I always
enjoyed knowing he was there. I enjoyed standing in the bright light of
his direct and generous friendship. When we met, we liked each other
simply, and that was all there was to it. I enjoyed how for years after
the Boychoir shoot, Dan and I seemed to take turns saying to each other,
"So when are we going to get our families together for dinner?" We
never did, but it always seemed like we would and I continued to look
forward to it. I always expected that we'd work together again too and
I still can't believe that we won't. Life is filled with lost
opportunities, and having missed the chance to be among Dan's friends in
our grief, I simply couldn't bear saying goodbye to him alone. I wish
I'd told these stories while he was alive.
- Jamie Watson
Clear DayDan - A Gift to the Capasso Family
Dan Sheridan has been part of the Capasso family for 22 years. He married
my sister Betty Capasso Sheridan in 1980 and I became blessed to have a
wonderful example of a gentleman for my brother-in-law.
Dan was always upbeat, positive and infectious with his zest for life. He
was like the light in that he drew more light to himself by shining his
light to everyone else.
Dan as a husband to my sister was totally awesome with his ability to love
unconditionally and continually gave of his commitment, patience, and
perseverance in both the good times and the bad.
Dan as a father was always there for his kids involved in their lives,
interests and mentoring them as unique individuals.
Dan as a brother-in-law was always there for me for airport pick-ups since I
have lived away from home (PA) for the past 15 years. He was never too busy
to take the time for me. He has been an example of a gentle, kind, caring
man that made people and not things his priority. He was content with
himself, his family and his life. This is a rare gift in this era of
discontent and longing for more "stuff".
Dan was a spiritual example to me of unwavering faith in the midst of a
seemingly insurmountable battle against cancer. He never spoke of losing
hope only of anticipating God to be in control and to care for him and his
Dan was a gift to us all if only for a short time. I shall cherish that
time and never lose sight of his love, faith, hope, light, laugh and desire
for life. He has taken the better life the eternal life with the brightest
light Our Lord Jesus Christ who died so we may have life and light forever.
Bernadette Capasso Labriola
Durham , N.C.
Sister-in-Law to Dan Sheridan
Betty Capasso Sheridan's Sister
The Dan Sheridan Photo Gallery