Archive for January, 2012

This article is from Michael Reichman's amazing, Luminous Landscape site.  A treasure trove for people interested in medium format digital.  The article is a short history of lighting culminating with a very interesting conclusion that involves LED lighting.

It's from 2010.

http://www.luminous-landscape.com/techniques/the_next_chapter_in_photographic_lighting.shtml


The sky behind this construction person was there.  It's been enhanced but it wasn't dropped in.


I'm usually as resistant to change as anyone else I know.  You find stuff that works and you try to stay in that groove until something pushes you out.  I'm coming to grips with the idea that post production isn't just a way to fix stuff we didn't get right in the shooting, it's also a way to finish out your illustrative  vision.  Maybe a path to completing what you had in your head when you were out shooting but what can't be done by camera alone.

There was a time when, by necessity, most everything was done in camera.  At some point in the 1980's or the 1990's the art of photography starting to diverge along two pathways.  One path was litered with the saints of documentary photography and its religion called on followers not to crop, not to heavily burn and dodge and never to change the contents of a photograph with retouching, air brushing or other methods.  And it was good.  And these people were called, "photojournalists."

The second pathway was engendered by the relentless needs of the marketplace.  Here anything you could imagine could, with time and budget, be done.  This was the land of top technicians and people with visions that couldn't be easily realized with regular, in-camera techniques.  This has become the land of post-processing.  In the past it was the land of air-brushing.  Nothing in the photograph could be taken as "truth" but it sure did look cool.  These people were imaginative.  And what they do we called, "Photo-illustration."

I was always in the first camp.  Henri-Cartier Bresson implied, to an entire generation of photographers, that only pussies needed to crop.  Real men saw the composition in the decisive moment and leapt upon it like panthers.  Generations of magazine picture editors forbade radical color changes because they would not be objective.  Never mind filter effects or added grain.  Anything that broke down the presumed objectivity of an image was forbidden.  And this was not just the provence of journalists.  The most powerful advertising icons, from the Herb Ritts/Calvin Klein underwear ads to the "Marlboro Man" ads to Bert Sterns Smirnoff ads were all done in this manner.  As are many ad images even to this day.  Sure, we retouched the frazzled edges but we didn't light em up.

PhotoShop changed everything for professionals and the ardent.  And now programs like Snapseed* are changing it all for everyone else.  It's everywhere.  The unspoken mantra is that a photograph is not ready for viewing until it's been dipped in the magic pool of post production.  Every image.  Every time.

I used to fight stuff like this.  I used to make impassioned arguments that photography should remain "pure" but I've given up.  This  change feels permanent.  When we came to a cultural conclusion that, if all the stuff coming off a camera sensor is already filtered, manipulated and color tweaked by firmware and software then wasn't it already "retouched" for all intents and purposes?  If you shot jpeg and you liked your files with a little extra sharpening and more saturation and you set your camera that way weren't you already toeing over the line of strict objectivity?

But it was all just an academic construct in the first place.  After all, even in the early days of color you could choose between the palettes of Kodachrome and Ektachrome and even Scotchcolor.  You choice of film speeds could buy you some extra grain and so one.

It's always tiring to tilt against windmills.  I'm tired of trying to bail out the Titanic with a small plastic bucket.  And I'm equally tired of trying to catch a two edged sword with no handle.  From now on anything goes.  Everything goes.  If it sells better with a coat of psychedelic paint spilled on it then who am I to question the marketplace?

I've written my last column disparaging HDR.  If you like it, more power to you.  I'm taking a psuedo-intellectual sabbatical from taste.  I'm working my maximum Zen and trying to live in the land of "no judgement."

We'll see how that works out.  I'm off to figure out how to automate Snapseed so I can churn my whole catalog of images through the "grunge" filter.  With enough grunge and tilt n shift I may even be able to pass myself off as one of the crowd.

*Snapseed is an app that was developed for use on the the iPhone or iPad which would allow you to tweak you images with contrast, color, sat and sharpness corrections but it also enables you to apply filters to create trendy looking images.  You can control the effects and combine them.  It's $20.  Now they make a version for the desktop.  I've taken the plunge, stopped lighting or even trying very hard during the shooting process, confident that I can just "auto-grunge" any of my images to save it.  You can too.







When used as a quick contrast, brightness, contrast, etc. and sharpening tool, Snapseed works about as well as iPhoto or any of a large number of simple image tools you'll find on the web.  The magic is supposed to happen with the filters.  They have names like "Grunge" and "Drama" and "Vintage" and "Tilt and Shift."  They do most of the trendy stuff you'll see on the web.  I gave it a spin this evening.  While it's fun and makes stuff look different it's canned so eventually the effects will get old.  That shouldn't keep you from having fun.  Afterall, it's only $20.


I'll run the effects by the art directors who deserve them.


But once you've found a cute model.  Found a cute dress.  Gotten her on the floor with her legs in the air, you've really done all the hard work.  Why give a boxed software effect all the credit?

I'll keep it.  But like cheap alcohol I'll use it sparingly.



     The morning market at the Campo di Fiori, Rome, Italy.  


The man in the image above was/is one of the partners who owned a wonderful, little restaurant in Rome called, al Grappolo d' Oro.  If rumor is to be believed, it was at a table there that the famous song, "Volare" was written.  I was led to the restaurant on the recommendation of a native Roman back in 1985 or 1986 and I've returned for a meal on every trip since.  When my friend, Paul, and I shot in Rome in 1995 we ate there twice in one week. And that's says volumes in a "food city" like Rome.   I haven't been in a few years so I can't vouch for much now but I will always remember how fun it was to watch Carlo arrive at the Campo di Fiori market one day and carefully hand select the produce his restaurant would serve later that day.

He was, of course, a regular of the market and knew everyone there by name.

I was walking around the small piazzo with a Mamiya Six in hand.  I recognized him from one of my recent visits to his restaurant.  I took two frames and then walked off to see new things.  I ate at his restaurant again that night.


Walking through the markets in old towns is really nice.  There's a comfortable rhythm that feels organic and right.  The good ones dispay food with style but without too much flash.  I'm hungry.  I think I'll wander into the house and see what's for dinner.

These are medium format color negatives that were scanned at low res with an Epson V500 Photo.  With a little practice it does a good job with color negatives and even black and white negatives.  The images were taken with a Mamiya Six medium format camera and its normal, 75mm lens.  The images are nothing special to anyone but me.  I remember now the cool breeze of a cloudy day, the smell of the fresh fish and the vivid red of the strawberries like the day I took the images.





Aspen, Colorado-based photographer Tyler Stableford generally shoots action and adventure, most of it aboveground. But this shoot for Timberland PRO would send him a half-mile deep into the earth.

That far down, before adding light it is absolutely pitch black. As in, you cannot see your hand in front of your face. And the lights the miners use while extracting coal there aren't much friendlier -- low-level, and a mix of tungsten and fluorescents.

So Stableford shot the entire campaign working on the edge of the quality envelope, and lighting with only a few speedlights. Read more »

So we were on a shoot Saturday morning, and Debra got a text from Kerry, and she told him about the shoot we were on and that I was setting up the Blackbelt Lighting BB560 speedlights. Kerry suggested a guest blogpost on Dojo, so here I am. Let me tell you a little about the shoot. Debra and I met Brian (in the photos) on New Years Day. We got to talking and traded info, and decided to set up a shoot for the 28th. I had much anticipation for this shoot. Now I am a big fan of diffused sun, so I was keeping my fingers crossed that the 28th would be a miserably overcast and cloudy day. But it wasn’t. The skies were perfectly clear and the 7:30 AM sun was brutally bright and shiny. Oh yeah, and we were having high wind warnings.

We set up the first lightstand with an umbrella, and the wind almost blew my gear and girl away. Debra asked, “Bare flash?”. I replied, “Yes, I think that would be best.” So we set up 3 light stands, each with a bare BB560 flash and Blackbelt receiver. We moved the lights around as needed, sometimes lighting Brian in the car with 1 or 2 lights (plus the sun of course). In a few images we had 1 or 2 lights on Brian, while at the same time having 1 or 2 lights on the car, just to open up the details that would otherwise be black shadows from the low sun.

I shot these images on a Canon 5dmk2, mostly with a 70-200 lens, and a few wide angle shots were done with a 17-40 lens. Lighting conditions being constant, the shots were taken at ISO 50 or 100, from f5.6 to f8, at a 1/200 shutter speed (the maximum sync speed for the BB560). Flash output was set to 1/2 power and sometimes bumped up to full power as needed. I have been using the BB560′s for sometime now and this was one of those shoots where the reliability and power output was really put to the test. They worked flawlessly.

Photos were edited in Adobe Lightroom 4, the black and white images were done with Nik Silver Eex Pro 2, and Nik Color Efex Pro 3 Tonal Contrast preset was used on some of the color images.

If you would like to see more of this collection shot with Blackbelt Lighting Products, you can visit my blog post here.

Thank you Kerry for letting me share this collection with your Dojo friends.

022 Brian 1-28-12 032 Brian 1-28-12 038 Brian 1-28-12 050 Brian 1-28-12 061 Brian 1-28-12 068 Brian 1-28-12 097 Brian 1-28-12

 








I was supposed to shoot a dress rehearsal for an incredible musical, last Tues. night.  I had to call in sick.  We missed the chance to do a dress rehearsal shoot during a rehearsal.  Tues. was the last night without an audience in the house.  So, today I attended the afternoon matinee and sat in a seat that sits a little bit away from surrounding seats, on the side of the center section.  I wasn't able to move around the stage the way I usually do but we really needed the marketing images so this was our option.

Not wanting to distract my fellow show-goers I opted to use the Nikon V1.  I turned off the backscreen, put a little smack of black tape over the green status light and set the shutter to its electronic setting.  Once I turned off the sound, that camera was ultra-stealthy.  Silent.  Small (compared to my 5d2 or 1DSx) and unobtrusive.  I brought all three of the civilian lenses but I shot exclusively with the 30-110.

These are mostly shot at ISO 3200, out of necessity, and are SOOC Jpegs.  Shot in Jpeg.

Just put here as a real world thing.  Take em or leave em.






The intersection of my dining room 
wall and the floor.  

We love to talk about gear so much it's easy to forget how important it is, every once in a while, to just put down the test chart mindset and look around at the world.  I was under the weather last week so when I got bored I puttered around the house and looked at what the insides looked like in the middle of the day.   I like the way the reflections from the sun on the tiles cast cool swirls into the middle tone shadows on the wall.  But I also liked the strong shadows on either side.  



    Chair at Marti's in the Mercado, San Antonio. Cloudy day.  Panasonic GH2.  


Even in moments of quiet reading I am still haunted by the square.

I thought, and Michael Johnston thought, that I'd written a pretty clear and straightforward article for his "The Online Photographer" web magazine, yesterday.  If you haven't read it, here's a synopsis:
In the film days photographers had many different aspect ratios to choose from.  When digital destroyed film camera making we had most of our choices removed.  We were mostly relegated to shooting with a 3:2 ratio in professional, 35mm style cameras, and a 4:3 ratio in "amateur" or "point and shoot" cameras.  I made the argument that it's hard for some people to compose in formats they don't enjoy and, I expressed happiness and relief that electronic viewfinders have allowed camera makers to bring back the choice of seeing, framing and shooting in multiple image ratios.  I also professed my personal attraction to the square, or 1:1 ratio while calling on people to experiment and find the ratio that was right for them.

Most people got the basic ideas just fine and either agreed or disagreed.  But there were two camps that mystified me.  And one of the camps highlighted to me how differently people's brains are wired from mine.

One group must have read too quickly or, perhaps had been multi-tasking at the time, but they came away with the idea that the whole of the article was a fierce defense of the square and a damnation of every other combination of geometric borders.  Even though calm and patient editor, Mr. Johnston, posted several comments reminding them that the whole point of the article was, "Freedom of Aspect Ratio Choice."

But the group that disturbed me, and perhaps only because their thoughts seemed industrial, analytic, mathematical and process oriented while mine are not, was the camp that insisted that the whole idea that a camera need have a set aspect ratio was "absurd".   I, we, everyone, should be able to look at a scene, figure out exactly what the future use of the image will be, capture it with sufficient space around it and then unerringly crop it just so in post production.  Done, neat, finished.  No muss, no fuss.

I imagine their universe is one of tight order and high cleanliness. Every decision perfunctory and binary.

I can't imagine that people don't understand the friction and momentum that tools create in a creative process.  No matter what format camera you select there are two forces at work.  One is the way you like to compose (your inertia) and the other is the implicit idea, perhaps very sub-conscious for some but not for others, that perhaps you should take the boundaries of the supplied finder into consideration as you try to decide what to include and what to leave out. (There must be a reason they made the finder this way.  Right?).  Even if you are a square guy and you know you want to crop square in the end, having to include more areas than you want, wrapped in  configurations you're not comfortable with, means having to constantly choose and evaluate more parameters than you need.  It's all wrapped up in the tyranny of choice.

I think artists (and we'll entertain the conceit that photographers count too...) establish formalist restrictions for themselves in order to cut down on an infinite number of choices, to remove paralysis, to help them get started.  An amorphous or "hostile" frame is one that pushes on a photographer an infinite number of choices by dint of having to "float" some intended, future composition, unanchored in a framework that doesn't conform to character of the artist's intention.  It's a fight from the start.  The choice of a camera with a friendly aspect ratio helps one concentrate on timing and what to include.  The form has already been chosen.  It's like making a mathematical equation less complex.  Less time consuming.  Removing variables helps us narrow down with greater speed and certainty.  Then again, it could just be the way my brain works and everyone is wired differently.  

I don't care if you like or don't like squares but I don't understand why people think their choice of tools is meaningless to the empowerment of their best vision.  

I had a funny thought, just now.  People talked about cropping to the subject matter.  But in all the years and years that people experimented and made art with Polaroid SX-70 images I never saw examples of cropped ones.  Never.  Nor have I seen Holga or Diana images cropped.  What to make of that?  

Just a few thoughts after reading the paper and drinking coffe on a bright, Sunday morning.


Kitchen Cabinets in the afternoon sun.

Panasonic GH2+Olympus PEN FT 40mm 1.4 lens, ISO 160 or 320,  Daylight white balance.  Manual Exposure. Manual Focus. Handheld.


4.21.2010


Why you shouldn't run your life like a business....

image of an actor portraying the famous Louisiana governor, Huey Long, for Zach Scott Theater.  Hasselblad 201f, 150mm 2.8 Zeiss lens.  


When I was young I never thought about money.  There was always enough.  Never too much.  Only rarely did I long for something I couldn't afford.  I was happy chasing beautiful women, eating euphorically great Tex Mex food and sleeping on a futon on the floor of my small downtown studio.  (Now we would call this a "live/work space").  I stayed in school at UT for nearly ten years if you count the teaching jobs.  And I certainly wasn't thinking about the money as I abandoned electrical engineering for English literature and then for photography.


What I was thinking about is how to make photographs.  And why to make photographs.  And how to enjoy my working life.  Even though it seems harder to make money in photography now I know that there is a flip side to that perception.  It may be that now I've had the inertia of hundreds or thousands of people in my life who either tell me directly or thru their actions that making money is vitally important, being a "smart" businessman is vitally important,  that dying rich is mission critical.  And for a moment I started giving in to the inertia.  I started to believe the upscale, white bread vision of the American Dream.


Thankfully, this blog, which generates no real money and sucks down hours of time delivered me a left handed gift in the guise of a reader who suggested that I run my business in a way that makes sense.  He read about the death of my favorite umbrella on yesterday's blog offering and took me to task for not taking an assistant with me everywhere.  No matter what the logistics of a shoot the entourage trumps my comfort and my "working methodology".  He went on to say that my belief in focusing on my portrait subject with all my conscious intention, and not being distracted by other people, and not letting my portrait subject be distracted by other people was "BS".  And I don't think he meant, "Bachelor of Science".  This is not meant to be a spiteful rejoinder to his well intentioned (I assume) post but as a paean to Hunter S. Thompson and the spirit of having fun in your own special way.  All fictional, of course.


So, according to the great, homogenized business plan of universal commercial photography a smart businessman would have an assistant at his side in every shoot.  Ready to lunge for falling light stands and take one for the team, when necessary.  To sweeten the pot I get the unalloyed joy of spending all my waking hours in the presence of said assistant.  They are to provide me chauffeur services when I get all noddy-offy.  And I'm sure I can look forward to hours of lively conversation about all sorts of things that twenty somethings are interested in during the endless dinners, lunches, breakfasts and coffee breaks we'll be taking together.  Sounds worse than dating and I've succeeded in avoiding thatparticular pleasure for over thirty years now.

But, indeed, this would be a smart business thing to do?  I can picture it now:  Yukio, all dressed in assistant black with tattoos , and I are heading down farm to market road 123 in north Texas.  Yukio is at the wheel and is a picture of intensity.  The lines on the road whip by like the bullets in the Matrix.  Scenery? Screw the scenery! We're on fire.  I've got an iPhone in one hand and a laptop in the other.  I'm manically calling my clients every five minutes to check in.  When I'm not calling the clients I'm calling suppliers trying to bargain down their pricing to maximize our profit.  I'm on one call when the other phone rings.  It's my broker.  They need an answer right away.  Back to the first phone with my broker on hold and I'm speed dialing my attorney to make sure that the insider information I got from yesterday's client won't land me in hot water if I short a butt load of that client's stock before the closing bell.  We resolve that and I look over at Yukio.  She's in the zone.  We're making good time.  She's holding the Element right at 105 (mph).   At this rate we'll get paid for a travel day and a shooting day all in the same day.  To maximize profit.  Yukio hasn't slept in days.  I keep putting amphetamines in her coffee.  Makes her much more efficient.  And a much faster driver.

West coast should be awake now so I start dialing anyone who will listen to me.  The prices went up on a bunch of stuff I bought last week, some Canon stuff, and I haven't had it shipped to me yet but I'll probably sell it at a profit to some guy in LA who needs it bad and can't find the cool stuff in stock.  Is it wrong for me to screw the whole market and corner needed gear, selling it a week later at a much higher price.  Naw.  Gotta keep moving relentlessly forward.  Like a shark.  Or with Yukio, like a whole school of sharks.

We stop at a small gas station in Armpit, Texas to scrounge up Red Bulls and No Doze.  I notice Yukio shaking violently and think this can't be a good thing.  When she heads to the restroom I start dialing replacement assistants just in case.  Yukio comes back looking refreshed and starts crying when I offer to drive for a while.  She's out cold on an equipment case in the back, seconds later.

I stop a bit later with the intention of running into a Starbuck's for a quad shot latte and I wonder if I should wake Yukio.  Who am I kidding? It's been so long since I've carried my own coffee to the car I wouldn't know how to do it.  And I'm not very good with the lids on top either.

We stop in Texarkana where I've agreed to do an evening shoot in return for a slightly higher fee.  Yukio and I sleep walk through this one.  You gotta hand it to the assisting school the Yuk-ster attended.  She can dive for a falling light stand like no one I've seen.  I have her set up ten or so lights to impress the client and, at the end of the evening when I get bored I randomly knock them over to see just how many Yukio can handle under pressure.  Haven't lost one in months.

My turn to nap in the car while we drive on toward Dallas.  I wake up to find that we're somewhere west of El Paso and the engine is on fire.  I leave it all to Yukio while I sun next to the interstate to build up my reserves of vitamin D.  Don't know how she pulled it off but apparently we've (she's) loaded all of the gear into a minivan that she commandeered at gunpoint and we're racing off to catch up with Dallas. We toss a couple cans of Red Bull to the elderly couple whose minivan we're borrowing so they don't get too dehydrated while walking across the desert.

I'm bored with the music I brought along on my cheap MP3 player (can't buy an iPod.  Not a sound biz decision) and I pout for a few minutes till I remember that I have an assistant in tow and I force her at gunpoint to start singing Beatles tunes for me while I cold call on the phone and look over some spread sheets I got from my business coach.  Real estate, baby.  All counterintuitive.

We make it to our location with minutes to spare and I watch with awe as Yukio loads the equipment cart high.  It would be easier on her if I could make up my mind but, because of the perilous nature of my business I require her to bring all four brands of lights I worship,  and three brands of cameras into each location so I can decide based on the spiritual vibes of the space.  What's six hundred pounds between friends.  No, scratch that.  Between employer and freelance contractor, uncovered by insurance or tax withholding.  Magnanimous photographer that I am I do hold the elevator door so that it doesn't crunch that bag of my favorite lenses.

It's a portrait shot and we've done thousands of these before but for the life of me I just can't make up my mind.  Six lights?  Ten lights?  Double backgrounds?  I leave vague instructions for my assistant and wander off to find the client and some coffee.  My client is a bit concerned because she's sure we discussed the exact lighting set up on the phone and in e-mails.  She even produces drawings of the intended shots which she claims to have sent me weeks ago.  I do what any self-respecting photographer might do.  I blame Yukio.  I dress her down right there in front of client and camera.  She doesn't mind, she knows that every once in a while everyone has to take one for the team.  As long as it's not me.  I gobble down a few Xanax to offset the coffee jitters.  Thank God for chemistry.

I'm on the phone with another client and Yukio is skimming Craig's List looking for a new job when the CEO of the company we're working for comes in.  He's ready to be photographed and he's like a beige bowling ball with a shiny, sweaty complexion.  No problem, Yukio will take care of that in a heartbeat. She's the Swiss Army Knife (TM) of assistants.  Ready to powder a "glistener" in a heartbeat.
Thank God I've got an assistant in the room because I haven't got a clue which direction we're shooting in.  All looks and feels the same to me.  She gets me lined up and ready.  Focuses the camera and sets the exposure.  We shoot.  She stands behind me making faces and twitches staring at the client to get his attention.  We have a strict rule:  the client should never directly engage the camera.  It's the assistant's duty to distract them into a more natural pose and expression.

Just as we're about to pull off the perfect shot the power in the building goes off.  Not a problem,  the crafty and enterprising Y pulls a contraption that looks like an exercise bike out of one of our cases and sets it up.  On either side of the back wheel is a heavy grey casing that looks a lot like a car generator.  She plugs the power packs into the contraption then gets on the bicycle seat and starts peddling like Lance Armstrong running from the French.  She's sweating buckets but the packs are back up and recycling.  We finish shooting the CEO and as the last frame gets saved to the CF card my assistant falls to the floor, insensate.  She's inarticulate for a while.  Then we dowse her with a bucket of cold water and she comes to.  Just in time,  there's packing to be done and a bucket's worth of cold water to sponge up off the client's floor.

Looking back, we've billed three shooting days and two travel days in the space of two 24 hour days.  I wonder if I could be more efficient with a second assistant.  Seems counter productive but both Madonna and Oprah have entourages and they are far wealthier than me.  Seems like it's worth a shot.  Can I keep up this pace?  Will Pfizer and Sandofi keep making interesting chemicals?  Will the coffee run out?

Then,  I wake up with a start from this bad dream and realize that the assistant thing is an acquired taste.  And every photographer has a different comfort zone within which to work.  I don't mind coming early to set up.  I don't mind having dinner alone.  I'm okay handling most stuff. I don't have an iPhone.  I cherish my time writing and thinking.  I think I'll leave things just the way they are.  In the days of digital assistants are for big productions, or complex stuff.

Now,  when  it comes to post processing, Yukio and I handle it so well we've already post processed the stuff we're going to shoot next year.

To bring the whole blog back around to the beginning I have an observation to make:  When I actively think about doing things to make money stuff rarely  works out.  I do my due diligence. I send contracts. I follow up.  But when I focus on money as the reward everything always goes south.  When I enjoy the process or the challenge, when I love what I do, the money rolls in.  The more I desire the less I get.  The less I desire the more I get.  So, by that logic, if I desire nothing I'll get it all.  Whatever.  I just like the feel of a camera in my hand and a project in front of me.

Business note:  The IRS is busy redefining contract workers, employer obligations and YOUR tax obligations to contractors whom they may (almost certainly) classify as regular workers.  They (assistants) do work under your direction, with your tools and all the stuff that serves as a litmus test for who is an employee. If you think that freelance assistants are vital to your business you owe it to yourself to check with an attorney who is very familiar with payroll issues so that you don't wind up getting a big, unintended consequence in the pursuit of photographic business practices from the film days.......



Wow.  What a week.  I started getting really sick on Sunday and by Weds. had descended into a bleak underworld of doom and gloom so depressing (as expressed in my column) that world renowned photographers (I had no idea they were even reading my blog) sent me private e-mails asking if I was okay.  I was touched.  And, while the meds my doctor gave me Tues. afternoon have been progressively effective it wasn't quick enough to prevent the staff at VSL from gleefully pushing me out of the way (under the pretense of encouraging me to rest) to make room for that annoyingly gleeful, Charlie Martini to come in and do his mischief, yesterday. 

You know you're really ill if even your collection of original Nick Fury and the Agents of SHIELD comic books doesn't bring you back into balanced contentment.

I know some of you were worried so I though I'd give you an overall update.  I'm back to 92.5% of my usual self and recovering on a geometric trajectory.  I might even make it back to swim practice in the morning, tomorrow.

The world of photography is not imploding.  Everything will be fine.  They just stopped serving the buffets during the shoot.  You know, like in the good old days.  With the iced filled bowls the size of larger beauty dishes, packed high with freshly boiled and peeled jumbo shrimp and the elegant plates with the careful stacks of black caviar grains.  Back when they served Champagne to the cast and crews instead of this cheap Prosecco we're getting now...  But it will all be okay and we'll all adjust.  Just cast that net a little wider and toss it a little harder.

I'm taking tomorrow off from blogging here but sent a scintillating article to Michael Johnston for his blog: the online photographer, that should run tomorrow.  That's providing, of course, that it passes his rigorous editing and high standards.

I know today that it's not the fever so I know I'm really trembling with anticipation as the first copies of our new book:  


I have one copy.  I like it.  Amazon, Barnes and Noble and the your neighborhood camera stores should be getting theirs any day now.  Kind of amazing but the whole project stayed ahead of schedule.  And the book looks great.

Things change in the time between writing the books and having them come off the trucks.  I'll update info as necessary here on the VSL blog.  Not too much has changed in the overall market.  But we'll talk about it.

The effects of my illness seem to be fading.  As does my hazy fog of pessimism.  Now I need to have a conference with the interloper, Martini.  What was he thinking?  Was he thinking?  It's all a mystery to me.





From time to time, when Kirk is indisposed, the VSL staff sometimes has guest columnists step in and take the reins.  After the massive dose of gloominess he subjected readers to today we asked comedian and lead VSL researcher, Charlie Martini, to step into the Office Depot discount swivel office chair and give it a go.  Unlike Kirk, Charlie is remarkably optimistic about everything.  But then he's also on a cocktail of three different SSRI's and takes Absolute liquid vitamins throughout the day.


By Guest Columnist, Dr. Charlie Martini  


When last we saw Kirk he was heading off in the specially equipped racing Honda Element (with lasers, machine guns and ejection seats) vowing to find happiness in the world of photography.  We have every hope that, when the prescription drugs, triple strength coffee (you know he goes through a pound of Jamaican Blue Mountain every week day.) and the bottle of Jack Daniels give out he'll be back demanding that I get my scrappy, punter butt out of his chair and let him get back to work.  And, of course I will, because of my profound respect for his diligent visual research and my deep personal fear of his temper.

His last foray of this nature was aptly chronicled here:  Kirk's Crazy Journey.  I can only hope this one is shorter in duration and less fraught with litigation after the fact.

But first, a brief introduction.  I have a doctoral degree in astrophysics,  I'm into racewalking,  as a native Englishman I root for my local football club (that means soccer to you world-ravaging yanks) and love a good cuppa in the morning, with biscuits, if you please.  I am masterful with my version of iPhone-o-graphy and am a big, big fan of the wide gamut world of HDR.

Today I'm going to talk about the things that make me positively hopeful and enthusiastic about the practice of photography.  My goal?  To take the nasty aftertaste of defeatism left by Kirk's last column out of your mouth and put it back where it belongs.  And not a moment too soon, eh?  What say we get along with the tale.


 I've been involved with photography for a long time and here are the things I've seen change for the better:

1.  I no longer have to pay for film.  Now every frame I shoot is free.  Like the wind and water and my spirit.  I am free to express who I really am with no economic consequences.

2.  I no longer have to pay for processing.  Since I live alone, and am too ugly to effectively date, I used to resent all the time I "saved" by having a "lab" process my film.  Now I get to do the processing on my own computing machine and it serves to fill up the empty hours of my "bad part" of the day; that part that spans from the time they force us out of the VSL labs at the end of the day til I come dancing back through the air locks and biometric security in the next morning.

3.  With the magic of the internet I can share my images of turtles and cat whiskers and blooming flowers and artistically blurry waterfalls,  and members of full contact poetry slams, with people around the globe.  Often I will receive the honor of a request that a photo of mine be used in a book or magazine or on a website.  Even though there's never really a "'budget" to pay me I find the magic and rush of seeing my work spread across the internet as magical as the moment in Titanic when hero and heroine find themselves together on the deck as the ship goes down. It warms my heart so to be integrated into the discussion.  And there's tremendous value in that!  Just an amazing feeling of well being.  I'd like to have a credit but have been reminded many times that space on the web is just so expensive.

4.  Cameras have gotten so good that I can take fabulous photos anywhere.  At anytime.  For any reason.  And that makes me feel empowered.  Just last night I was sitting across from a couple in a nice restaurant and they were breaking up. It looked so sad. I put down my copy of Flat World and watched keenly.  It was pretty quiet but she was crying a bit and it looked so dramatic and real and great that I leaned across the table and shot a bunch of frames to put up on facebook.  I know they won't mind.  It's part of the new universal ethos of maximum share.  And, as we learned in lower school, sharing is always good.

5.  The ISO performance of our mighty plastic recording beasts have become so superb I can even take photos of things I can't see.  It's an amazing approach to art and one that works from time to time.  Kirk has tried to explain how the quality and direction of light are critical to a photograph's success.  But we all know what a curmudgeon he is.  It's just another one of his time wasting excuses.  If I point my camera at the general vicinity of something that seems like it may be exciting and set the autobracket just right I always come away with something I can rescue in Photoshop.  If I didn't shoot I'd never know.

6.  When I'm not in the lab trying to join up string theory with photographic composition I sometimes get do free "imaging" work for my bank.  I'm so proud that they let me submit photographs for their use as they are one of the biggest bank holding companies in the world. Mucho prestigo!  But they're nice and I like to help them out.  They appreciate the work I do and they are very nice about explaining the paperwork that helps me give them all my rights to the material.  I'd try to charge them but, hey! we're all like family and it just seems like the right thing to do.  When Kirk's last paycheck to me bounced they were so sweet about only charging me $80 for my bounced checks.  That's what real love buys.  You watch my back and I'll wash yours.  I'll tell you this! Back in the good ole days this was an opportunity we never had.  Especially if we had to pay for film!!!!  Now I can say I've had my work used by XXXXX bank. (The contract I offered to sign said I couldn't actually use their name....)

7.  Have you ever noticed that just owning a really good camera gets you invited into cool places?  Since I'm pretty well known as "uncle Charlie" by everyone on staff, here and at the bank and, oh, at my favorite restaurants (love American style bangers and mash).  I'm often asked to attend marvelous weddings and bar mitzvahs and office parties. (I'll never forget that really swell Christmas party in the Denny's "private" room.  Those Walmart assistant managers can parteeeeee.)  Funny thing is they always ask me to bring along my camera, you know, "just in case".  But, would I be out on a Saturday night without it?  Would I?  Not bloody likely. To stay on the "A" list I've gotten into the habit of sending everyone a DVD with all the photos on it.  Sharing brings me closer my fellow man and it spreads something we at VSL call, name recognition.  When a real job shows up I'm sure they'll remember me!

8. Potential riches.  Kirk has harped long enough on the his old song about the deflating value of photography but I've heard there's still a path to riches via a little bit of magic they call, "stock photography."  It's a bit expensive to get starting in since the stock photo companies wouldn't accept images from any of the cameras I had at the time but twelve thousand dollars later I was ready to get rich.  I had a new, top of the line, approved camera and a couple of really great lenses.  Now, all I have to do is to shoot whatever I want, keyword it, process it and upload it to the stock photography company's website.  They have a skyscraper filled with crack editors who will help winnow down my submissions to a tight group of "super-winners."  With a bit of elbow grease I've been told we'll be able to make at least a dollar for every image we sell, and possibly thousands of dollars.  Honest, it's happened before!!!  Logically, the stock company will take their 70% (it's only fair for all the hard work they do) but that still leaves me with 30%.  I don't need my calculator to tell me that if all 6 billion people in the world pull out their gold credit cards and buy just one of my pictures just one time that's a whopping one point eight billion dollars!!!!!!!  And don't worry, I am upping my chances at unimaginable wealth by uploading dozens and dozens of images at a time.  If Kirk would turn off his "rainy day rants" and get to work he could potentially make billions as well.  You can drag an old horse to water but you can't always resuscitate him.  At least that's what my mum used to say.  Tuck just doesn't seem to get the new economy.  It's not about the big deal anymore.  It's about hundreds of thousands of very, very, very tiny deals all coming together nicely.

9.  Unlimited inspiration.  Did you ever have one of those days when you left the house and you just didn't have any idea what to shoot?  Or why you even brought your camera with you?  Doesn't happen to me anymore because I use the Inspiration Image Juggler on Flickr and the Random Greatness button on 500px to see what everyone around the world is shooting, right now.  And then I go out and try to shoot exactly the same thing.  Most guys on the sites even provide equipment lists to help me and instructions on how they shot.  Takes a lot of the guesswork out of the process.  And it gives you a much greater chance of artistic success.  We certainly never had this in the good old days.

10.  Never before, in the history of all photography and even art, have we had so many experts  on the web tell us exactly how to do really good and unique photography.  The one thing they all share is a remarkable optimism. They exude hearty confidence.  They are indeed, the confidence men.  They want to help us make photography fun.  And part of the fun of photography is buying stuff.   And so they teach us stuff we really need to know to be successful in being happy and we reciprocate by spending thousands of dollars a year on really cool gear that they talk about on their websites.  It's amazing how much you can learn absolutely free.  Just last week I learned that I really couldn't do effective portraits without this 45mm 1.8 lens from Olympus three of the guys were blogging about.  The hard part was deciding whose link to click through.  Never had this kind of "free" education before.  And no strings attached.  The real winner?  Me.  Now I've got the tools that will make my portraits sing like Madonna. (She's Brit now, you know?)

11.  HDR.  Oh my God!!! Have you seen this kind of photography?  It makes every photograph look like a really, really cool painting.  Seriously! Technicolor on steroids.  Oh yeah, there's a learning curve but that's beautifully handled by that free education aspect of the new web 3.0.  Essentially you find just about anything that might make a decent photograph and then you shoot three or more exposures.  One for the shadows.  One for the highlight.  And one for the mid-tones.  The more different exposures you shoot the more information you have to play with when you get back to your computer.  But it's worth it because just about every photo will end up with the same ultra cool look.  Almost like magic.  (I have to make a wee confession here.  I always wanted to be a painter but I didn't have the time or stick-to-it-tiveness to learn exactly how to do painting.  Probably my ADHD... but now all my work can look like paintings and I've even used these incredible tools called "actions" to make the whole process almost automatic.)  When I show the images to my friends they are always amazed.  But I can walk them through the process pretty quickly and in no time they're knocking out these colorful masterpieces by the bucketload.  What's not to like about that?

12.  Really, really great workshops.  Thousands and thousands of them.  (If Kirk weren't so glum and bitchy and anti-social he could have a whole, new career in the new part of heaven I call workshops.  That would take the gray air out of his negativity balloon!!!)  In the old days there were one or two groups that held workshops and they were very prissy.  They had the gumption to demand portfolios in order to get into a class.  Hello!!!!!!  I'd like to have a portfolio.  Isn't that why I want to take your class???   But now there are thousands and thousands of them and they're on every topic you can imagine.  And the amazing thing is that they're all taught by super busy, super hard working pros who have so many clients it's amazing they can even squeeze a random weekend in.  I've taken  42 in the last five years and at least half of those were about how to use my "porty" flash.  I've learned a remarkable amount.  One teacher was so helpful in showing me what the manual for my camera really said.  Another helped me find a method that would trigger my flash when I take it off the camera!!!! Really.  I can't make this stuff up.   Usually we see a slide show of the teacher's work and I must admit I've spent some time in the shadows of giants.

And all the top teachers seem to know each other and recommend each others workshops and that makes me feel more comfortable, taking advice from a trusted source.  Pre-web it was just a shot in the dark.  If I ever take the step to "Pro" I'll be ready.  One light.  Off Camera.  HDR.  And now maybe even LED.  What more could any client want?  And it's not so far fetched.  There's a big ad agency in our town and I've actually toyed with the idea of putting together my best work and showing it to the person they call the "art buyer."  I'm trying to narrow down my portfolio so I'm only showing my best work (I learned that in a workshop).  So far I have vacation golf photos from Maui,  animals shot with DOF at the local zoo  (workshop), a few different photos of plates of food I ordered at restaurants (when I thought the plates looked good), and lots of street photography of people's backs.  If I can interleave some waterfalls and some dramatic HDR sunsets and some shots of my neighbor's kid playing in the hose I'll have a pretty cool and well rounded selection of images.  And I know most of them are good because we had critiques at a number of the workshops. It's like a stamp of approval.

In closing I have to say that the promise of the internet and of photography is that the markets have never been bigger or wider or more open.  I can sell my images anywhere in the world and feel safe that the U.S. Copyright laws are there to protect my work at all times.  If I can assemble my 1,000 true believers and they can feel good about my work then I can throw it all out onto the market with a healthy dosage of abundance energy  and it will come, unerringly, back to me a million fold.  And that's the real promise of the new economy.  You just have to have a little faith.  And, as I'm finding out, a lot of patience. But, it will happen.

Whether you are a pro, an aspiring pro, or an enthusiastic enthusiast there's never, ever been a better time to be a photographer.  New markets are opening up everywhere.  The education process is practically free and the barriers to getting in, either as an insider enthusiast or a new pro, are all gone.  Let's face it:  Anyone can do this and everyone needs photography.  Saturated marketplace?  That's what the glum experts said about gold ten years ago.  Who's laughing now?

Thanks for reading.   Hopefully Tuck's not working on a big doco and will be back to take the reins this Friday, coming.  Cheerio.   By the way, he's not really as glum as they make him out in the comments section and he does have a life outside of his blog.    Oh well.  My task is done and Bob's your uncle.