In search of the perfect storm

The hazards faced by those attempting to shoot close-up video footage of tornadoes cannot be overstated. Tornadoes can form suddenly and with little warning, and photographers who turn down the wrong road at the wrong time can find themselves discomfited by 200-mph winds containing jagged bits of automobiles, sheets of razor-sharp aluminum siding, and lancelike sections of splintered fence posts.

Yet as anyone who watches television knows, the potential consequences have not stanched the flow of tornado videos. Nothing, apparently, boosts ratings like nature out of control, and in recent years blurry scenes of tornadoes hoovering up subdivisions, livestock-filled barns, and blue-sparking electric substations—examples of a genre sometimes referred to as "torn porn"—have become a staple on broadcast and cable networks. Supplying the tornado-video industry is a coterie of camera-toting semi-professional storm chasers who converge on the Great Plains each spring, during the height of tornado season. Many drive cars ...