What is a "Stunt Leica?" As explained to me by a good friend and fellow photographer...

First of all, I know most people don't really care about Leica This or Leica That. But most people don't really care about swimming, or snooker, or just exactly how we did our darkroom work in 1976. So I'll just proceed with today's interesting idea...  interesting to me at least...

I had lunch with a well to do business person and photographer. He's owned and used all kinds of cameras; from Canons and Sonys to medium format Fujis --- and many stranger cameras. He's got a collection of nearly 100 different cameras ---that I know of. But lately (mea culpa) he's fallen down the Leica rabbit hole. We meet for lunch about once a month and we always bring along interesting cameras that, old or new, are interesting to both of us, to share. Show and tell.  Today my (anonymous...let's call him "Bob") friend, Bob brought along several interesting new products for me to look at. One was the small and remarkably good Leica D-Lux 8. The finder in that camera is much, much better than I expected it would be. In fact, the finder is the one feature that sticks with me. That and dozens of photographs Bob has done with that camera in cities all over the place. Yes, in addition to collecting interesting cameras Bob shoots well and he shoots a lot. He's not the type to sit at his desk and pontificate if there is any potential at all to be out shooting instead. "Pictures...or it didn't happen!!!"

The D-Lux8 is not just a re-badged anything. Judging by Bob's black and white and color images it performs incredibly well. Great tonality and tons of sharp detail. Another bonus is a menu/user interface that mirrors the interface seen in Leica's Q2 & Q3 cameras, and all the later SL type cameras. Which is to say that it's the best or second best implementation of information display and control on the market today. It's close competitor? The Hasselblad X2D, of course. Just handling the DLux-8 again fanned the flames of my desire for one. Which I am currently resisting...

He also bought the Leica grip for the iPhone. It's charming in person and does make doing photographs on an iPhone surprisingly easier. It was fun to see in person. 

While Bob started his adventure into Leica with the purchase of an original SL he had always planned to get into the M system as well. He's a technologist by profession and in his research he dived deep into the M9. The M9 was the last Leica M camera to use a CCD sensor instead of CMOS sensor and his point of view is that its output is "more interesting" than the current crop of sensors. From an imaging point of view...

One day recently he came across a very nearly mint condition M9 which had had the CCD sensor replaced (some batches of M9s had CCD sensors that suffered from surface corrosion --- which was unsettling. But being Leica they dutifully replaced any affected sensor without argument). Those cameras were made in smaller quantities than the M240s that came afterwards while the variants post M240 are even more numerous. That makes a fully functional, fully vetted M9, with its handsome black paint finish and a new sensor, a bit of a collector's item. But not too expensive in the current used markets. 

He's been shooting the M9 with a 50mm Summicron and a 35mm Voigtlander Ultron and is now captivated and a bit addicted to rangefinder photography. Especially with his M9.

He's planning a trip to a major city which has a bit of a reputation for a recurring street crime problem and he's reticent to take his M9 because it's his favorite current camera and, if stolen, would be very hard to quickly replace. If he could replace it at all. 

Mind you, this has nothing to do with the money he'd need to spend to replace it and everything to do with getting attached to a rare and hard to replace camera. He can afford to replace it easily and surely has it insured as well but if it goes away and he wants to replace it in time for the next adventure he may be out of luck. Worldwide the supply is limited and dwindling daily.

It was at that point in our conversation that he mentioned he was now researching an appropriate "Stunt Leica." I laughed and asked for elaboration. 

In his mind a stunt camera would be one that is easily replaceable with ample samples in the marketplace. A camera with basically the same operating process as the "higher emotional and sentimental value" model and one that will make good use of M series lenses. I think, based on our back and forth, that he'll eventually land on getting an M240 or an M262 or even an M-P as a stunt camera. Although I think the M-P is now bordering on becoming a collectible rarity. This would be the camera he would carry into dicey neighborhoods, challenging environments and any place else where loss or destruction is a real possibility. This is not to say that he is paranoid or wimpy. After all, he's one of my few friends who practiced highly immersed and unguided street photography in Mumbai. And Sixth St. in Austin (kidding, kinda). He just doesn't want to take the chance of losing a camera he feels a special bond to. One that might be hard, or near impossible, to replace. 

That's his definition of a stunt camera. It's the stand-in for the irreplaceable one.  It can't really be a different brand because usability and familiarity is important for real artists. Feel and operation are not interchangeable qualities when one is deeply familiar with a certain line of cameras. Muscle memory is a real thing...  I totally understand his reticence to put his favorite camera in harm's way. 

On the way home I thought about his funny description; a Stunt Camera. And then I thought about my own habits with cameras. I have three SL(x) models that are more current, more expensive, and more potentially useful to me than the two original SL models I started out with on this adventure. I presume that most people, when buying new cameras, would immediately sell off the older models. After all, no one can shoot with five cameras at once... Even if you didn't mind carrying them all. So, why do I keep the older SL cameras? 

Because they are wonderful to use --- but also more "expendable" than the newer, pricier models. They are weather-sealed and sturdy and all the SL cameras take the same batteries but their initial purchase prices (bought used) were half or less than the newer SL(x) cameras. I use the newer cameras for work but if I travel to Mexico City or San Francisco for fun I think perhaps taking a couple of older SLs, that are currently available used for under $1500, is a better idea than dragging around much more expensive models.  Ditto with lenses. A $440 Panasonic 50mm f1.8 is a great image maker and available a fraction of the cost of a $5,000 (USD) Leica 50mm APO Summicron SL. 

I would also consider the older cameras a better choice for going "off road" on something like a hiking trip in Big Bend. If I had to hammer tent pegs or smack a rattlesnake I'd rather do those things with a convenient stunt camera than one of my more valuable work cameras. And I already know I'm a clumsy rock climber; I have mangled, older cameras to prove it. 

When I got back to the studio I thought to myself that it's only a matter of time until I hear from Bob, we meet for lunch, and he pops an decent M240 out of his camera bag for my inspection. Fun times for sure. 

When I look into my equipment cart I realize that I have been assembling "Stunt Doubles" for many of my favorite lenses as well, without conscious thought. If I go out with M cameras there are good lenses to chose from and great lenses in the same focal lengths to choose from. It all depends on how much damage potential there might be in the photographic engagement at hand. I guess it all boils down to the idea of not carrying around anything you aren't comfortable losing. Given actual the situation you are facing. 

A banker's conference in a five star hotel? Any gear is good gear. Very little risk. Canoeing the rapids? Might want the stunt cameras for that....

A nice dilemma to have. 

 

Why I still write a blog. Why you should be interactive with your favorite blogger...even if it's not me. "Re-Printed" from MJ's blog from October 2011. Amusing how the internet time machine works...

 I wrote this post for Michael Johnston's "The Online Photographer" blog back in October of 2011. While MJ recently referred to me as a "gadfly" I still like him. And I still read his stuff on a near daily basis. This particular blog post is the long form of why I like his blog, why I'm glad it still survives and why you should be more vocal in your support. 

The original of this is here: https://theonlinephotographer.typepad.com/the_online_photographer/2011/10/kirks-take-kirk-tuck-1.html  go there if you want to see how it (visually) first appeared and also to read the 140+ comments that resulted from its publication. And to say, "Hi. And Thank You!" to Mike

Saturday, 29 October 2011

Kirk's Take (Kirk Tuck #1)

Series Introduction: Photographer, photo book author, and once and future photography blogger Kirk Tuck will be writing a regular column on TOP that will appear on the last Saturday of every month. That's the plan, at any rate. Welcome, Kirk. —Mike

What I learned when I stopped writing a photo blog

By Kirk Tuck

I’m a slow learner. I started writing a blog about photography back in the early part of 2009 and I didn’t do the business school routine of "establishing metrics" or "laying out a concise framework of goals and concepts of monetization." I really started writing the blog because I was bored, felt isolated and got tired of reading so much really bad information about photography on the web. I thought it would be fun to write honest and sometimes self-deprecating but true articles about the fun and the folly of actually being a professional photographer.

After writing a few posts about the business or about inspiration I learned that it takes time to build an audience. Lots of time. But I also learned that you can accelerate the process by doing exactly what most readers say they do not want you to do. In the case of a photo blog the mantra of the typical reader is that they prefer articles of substance that feed their souls and help them to understand why photography seems so vital to their own lives. In reality, when I wrote articles about why I shoot in the streets or, why I like to do portraits without an audience in tow, the silence in the virtual reading room was startling; depressing. You could hear pins drop and I got the distinct impression that I could drop dumpsters full of cymbals and no one would hear.

But I mentioned above that you could accelerate the number of readers your blog garners with a secret technique. Give your readers what they say they don’t want to read. I started writing equipment reviews of the cameras, lenses and lights that I was interested in. Then the camera brand tribes would come out from their villages and go to war. Everyone had an opinion about the performance of the Olympus EPL2 and its relevance in the hierarchy of current gear. Volumes of vitriol were tossed like gasoline onto the "red dots" cover-up. The review of that seemingly benign camera is still the single most popular blog I have written to date. And every time a wave of brand "true believers" came washing up on to the Visual Science Lab shores a percentage of the wave liked what they read around the edges of the article that had originally drawn them and they stayed on and became loyal readers. And that’s how VLS finally found its momentum and its place on the web.

But as Mike and the one or two other good bloggers on the web will tell you, writing once a week won’t keep them coming back. Just like the coffee and newspaper I consumed this morning, readers want a routine. They want a morning ritual. And that ups the ante for the writer. You start looking around to try and find more relevant content to feed the machine. In my case I wrote every word and took every photograph. I was truly invested in the site and it came to consume as much of my time as my regular photo work. Why? Probably because I grew up with the idea that "If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well." The idea of cranking out something half-assed grated against generations of puritanical upbringing. Doing things halfway was antithetical to the way I learned to make images.

No filters
But there's a dark side to being a blogger. Especially in a field where everyone is an "expert" and most of your readers are in technical fields that require quantifiable measures. To many of the blog readers I seemed to be an anonymous corporation putting out content in exchange for eyeballs. And people seem to have no filters when they communicate with corporate entities. I got some comments that had enough venom in them to take down a mastodon. A large number of ad hominem attacks came barreling into the comments box over "issues" that I would carefully classify as "opinions."

But the worse part of all was the idea that the angry reader had permission to track down my e-mail address and send me their hate mail "off-line." So I did a little experiment and I wrote about a new camera announcement. I wrote it as a "gauntlet toss" and stood back to watch. It got tons of page views. Then I wrote something that I really cared about, in the genre that my commenters claimed they wanted, and the page views dropped like bank stocks. While the gear article garnered dozens of comments in twenty four hours the essay on the reason we photograph managed to cobble together only three or four comments over the space of a week.

My takeaway lesson was that I'd spent two years building a blog for nothing. If readers just wanted information about the gear they could go to the "big daddy" of gear sites and grammatically nightmarish, full-contact forums: DPReview. There they could dissect every camera down to its measurable essence and then argue about the composition of the screws that hold the camera together. I was done. I didn't want to be a camera reviewer; I wanted to write about something different. So I made the announcement that I would stop.

Thousands of bright, serious people
And a funny thing happened on my way to consigning the blog to the scrap heap. I discovered my "silent majority." You’ve all heard the old saw that, "The squeaky wheel gets the grease." Well, the naysayers and vicious commenters had gotten the grease. They'd shut me down because I didn't hear from the other side. To be fair, I had a handful of genuinely wonderful readers who would drop regular comments of support but they seemed, at the time, to be a tiny minority. But the day I announced my (premature) retirement my comment box was filled with hundreds and hundreds of posts. Most started with, "I am sorry I never commented before but...."

And what I found is that there were literally thousands of bright, serious people who started everyday with the same routine, almost to a person. And that routine consisted of fixing a cup of coffee, sitting in front of their computer at home or in their offices, and reading whatever I had written on the Visual Science Lab blog. Almost to a person they had just come from, or would next go to, The Online Photographer blog. That was (and is) still their ritual. They didn’t feel the need to comment, they just enjoyed the reading and the implied inclusion into a circle of people, international in composition, who enjoyed photography and knowing more about why and what other people enjoyed about the art. In the process I learned a very valuable lesson. I had never really invited them to comment and to give me feedback. I’d never come right out and asked for it.

One person was instrumental in the clicking a switch in my brain. Here is what he wrote:

Roy said... 
Kirk; You may feel that you have been wasting time better spent on earning a living; not so. Most folks have a sphere of influence that is only as wide as their family and a few friends. Reading these many comments must let you know that your influence is global. Appreciate that as we have appreciated you. I am in my eighties and have just accepted your admonition to walk up to people on the street and ask if I may photograph them. It is still a nerve twister but I've found out it works. Thanks Kirk. I'll drop by now and then to see what else you can talk me into.

Roy kicked my ego-butt and made me realize that I got a value from writing the site that at least equalled my efforts. Even if it was ephemeral and karmic rather than material and measurable. When I read his response, and 250+ others in the comments and another several hundred sent directly to my e-mail, I realized that I'd hit exactly the audience I'd really hoped for when I began.

Kirk Tuck, Self Portrait

I decided to re-start the blog. And it's interesting because I feel like I've gotten permission from my readers to be more personal. To write what I want to write rather than what I think will attract bulk readers. I'm reaching down a little deeper to write things that seem, at times, bittersweet or frightening to me. I'm writing about what happens to us as we become "older" photographers. I'm writing about the "double-edged sword" of our isolation. And I hope I'll continue writing about what amazes and amuses me in my everyday life as an artist. And while this material won't garner me instant numbers growth I hope it will resonate with more and more people who are more curious about the "why" of visual art than just learning how to turn the switches and which menu items to select on their new Turboflex D1000D.

So I’m back. I intend to write a column at least once a month, here, for Mike (who has been a wonderful sounding board in my process of coming to grips with my process...) and to continue my "Chaos Theory" schedule of writing at the Visual Science Lab. While I intend to concentrate on the "whys," I still have a sweet tooth for gear so I can’t totally give up publicly pondering new equipment.

Finally, a warning. If you value what you read each day at Mike’s TOP, remember to say so, often and publicly, and not just here. While writers will write because they must, they also write for an audience. What Mike has done here is to elevate the discussions about art, literature, music and their interwoven effects on our passion for photography, high above the diatribes and mis-information that slops across the web. He reminds us that there's more to it all than just an argument about some arcane slice of techno-crud and he does so in a way that's both enjoyable and challenging. Don't assume that, because he has a few small ads tucked away on the sides of his site, he derives all he needs from the material revenue. Every writer needs the feedback of his or her readers. Let the writers you like know that they're part of your daily rituals and routine and their vision adds fuel and fun to yours. I've seen both sides and I know how important the reader is to the process. Make sure you are committed to doing your part. Let them know they influence people around the globe.

Good morning TOP. It's a beautiful day for photography!

Kirk

It's just about time for SXSW and the posters are starting to go up around downtown....

 

The fine print at the bottom of each poster. 

For Photographers. The difference between action and activity. Originally published by Michael Johnston on his "The Online Photographer" blog. Cira 2011.

 I wrote this for Michael Johnston's blog back in December of 2011. That's 14 years ago. I re-read it today and found my old advice useful today for my older self. I thought you might like it as well. If you want to see the original format and the appended comments from MJ's site you can read it here: https://theonlinephotographer.typepad.com/the_online_photographer/2011/12/kirks-take-kirk-tuck-2.html#more  I think some of what I wrote about is beneficial to photographers who feel "stuck." 

Kirk's Take (Kirk Tuck #2)

Photographer, photo book author, and photography bloggerKirk Tuck's monthly column on TOP was planned to appear on the last Saturday of every month, but he was on deadline for his next book on lighting last Saturday. A week late is better than never, I think you'll agree.

I'll be travelling Sunday and Monday so unfortunately the comments to this post will go up late, but I'll be back shackled to the leg of the desk again by Tuesday. —Mike

Action vs. Activity. One makes you an artist,
the other makes you tired.

By Kirk Tuck

Action and activity are two very different things and it's important for an artist to know which one they're focusing on. Action derives from need or reaction. You are hungry so you eat. You need to get somewhere quickly so you walk faster. You need to get warm so you head for shelter. You have a vision you want to interpret as a photograph so you do the process of making that photograph. You are pushed to eat from necessity and you are pushed to create the photograph by necessity. One driver is physical while the other pursuit is driven by passion. Both are pretty unencumbered pathways and both have an immediate aim. Eating gives you the fuel to go on while creating art gives you the emotional fuel to enjoy life.

Compare honest hunger with a more common variation: Eating because you are bored. Eating because the food is in front of you. Eating because you want to keep your hands busy. And, eating because the taste of whatever you’re eating entertains you. In this sense eating becomes an activity instead of an action. And activities are the biggest time wasters in our lives.

As photographers our focus should be on the making of images. But that's hard work. Even if you are hungry to make an image, there are all kinds of impediments. You might have to find models or subjects that truly resonate with the vision you have in your head, and you'll have to find locations and you might even have to get permission from a property owner to make your image on their property. But if you are really driven to make the image and express your art you'll find a way to channel the resources and the energy. If you are committed to expressing yourself and sharing your interpretation of the world around you then you'll punch through the mental and rationally-based "resistance" to actually creating art, and you'll get your project done. That's action. It comes from a need: the need to express your art. The action fulfills the need.

And if you practice your art with a focus on the action you'll find that it becomes less and less scary to pick up the tools of your art and head out the door to just do the process. But...some of us get trapped by one or more of the insidious spider webs immobilizing us from taking the right action. We get stuck in one of the levels of hell that I call "Endless Preparation." It's also known far and wide as "Research."

For photographers endless preparation begins with the selection of camera gear. As rational, educated and affluent adults we move in a world of bountiful information but we’re not always good at asking the right questions or divining the right answers. In fact, we focus so narrowly on some parameters and not at all on others. We've been taught that good preparation is paramount for any successful mission and we’ve taken that to heart. And so we begin the first part of the journey into the sticky spider webs of rampant indecision and quantitative ambiguity.... I’ve been doing it all month. I would be better served inviting my quirky and interesting friends into my little studio and making their portraits with whatever camera and lights I already have, but...shamefully, I've allowed my subconscious resistance to getting that project started push me into the un-winnable endless loop of trying to decide which little mirrorless, compact camera deserves my true affection. Will it be the Nikon V1 or the Olympus EP3? And, of course, it doesn't matter which decision I make because I'll end up using it for casual work and not the work that really motivates me to create my own personal art. But I've already wasted plenty of time shooting with both cameras and then writing down and sharing my observations. In a sense I'm also guilty of enabling other would be artists' progress by inferring that the issue of picking the ultimate "little camera" from a "moving-target" list of camera is an important and valuable consideration. Which, of course, it's not.

And even though my mercurial and unstable selection processes are becoming (sad) legend among fellow photographers, I find it hard to resist. Just like everyone with a facile and functioning mind, I've found that my subconscious can rationalize the hell out of just about any equipment "research" and acquisition. The latest is a little voice that says, "The art of photography is getting more fluid and fluent. We’re capturing sequences and interlacing it with video and all the presentations are going to the web. We need small cameras that can capture both quickly and easily. The small cameras with fast processors are the equivalent magnitude of destructive innovation engendered by the screwmount Leica cameras of the 1940s and early 1950s." Hell, given time I'm sure I could rationalize selling my car and buying all the small camera models.

You may laugh at my personal quagmire but I see variations in and among my friends and colleagues and all over the web. You may be the kind of person who finds the activity of researching and testing small cameras lacking in restraint, but your "activity" might be endlessly profiling your printer, your monitor, your camera, your wall, your light stands and so on. While my wasted time is spent comparing reviews and specifications of delightful neckwear bling, your wasted time is spent scanning and shooting Greytag MacBeth color targets and "mapping" them to some new paper from Croatia. It’s really the same thing. It's a preparatory activity that's powered by the rationalization of mastery, but it's really just a strategy to procrastinate from dipping a toe into the unknown.

I also have a friend who is really a good photographer who has been on a relentless workshop circuit. If someone's offered a workshop somewhere on the web he's probably been there and taken it. And yet what each workshop offers is a new set of technical skills that he feels he must master before he heads out to do his "real work." But since there's an endless supply of workshops, and a nearly endless reiteration and repackaging of techniques, he's mostly ensured that, without some effective catharsis, he will never really get around to doing the work he envisioned when he first became entangled in the sticky webs of photography.

If the activity that fills your nervous void is something like eating or smoking, chances are you will either become very large or very sick. But if your activity is the research and mastery of every corner of our craft, you will become an expert in arcane lore and analysis and a pauper in creating and sharing finished art. And there's is no law that says you can't make that choice. But so many of us are so well trained in debate and rationalization that we suppress a reality that we should at least give a passing nod to. In some ways my own blog tends to enable the endless search for endless things for which to search. But it sounds preachy if I tell everyone to stop reading and contemplate what it is they really want to say with images.

So, what am I getting at? Well, I'm trying to become a "recovering" researcher in my own work and I've made myself a little checklist to work with. I’ve set some ground rules to keep myself within the design tolerances of sanity. We'll see how well this works out....

Kirk’s Rules of choosing Action over Activity:

1. It's okay to buy a new camera, but I am required to go out and shoot fun images with it for more time then I spend writing about it or measuring its results.
2. It's better to shoot images that are fun, make you laugh and make your friends happy than images you think will impress other photographers. Even better if the images can work in both camps.
3. If there's no reason for me to be out shooting I can default to a nap on the couch to replenish my body and spirit. Sometimes pushing myself out the door is just the wrong move.
4. If I catch myself shooting test charts I stop immediately and head out the door with a good book. Or a camera.
5. The feel of a camera in my hand should always trump someone else's written evaluation. No one really knows how I want things to look.
6. I have a post card sized white card pinned to the wall behind my computer that says, "Making Portraits is my Art. Anything else I do is not-art."
7. Quiet contemplation is more conducive to having fun ideas than relentless study.
8. All the things I really need to know to create are already locked away in my brain, I just need to be still and quiet enough to open that door. Sitting quietly beats looking at DxO results for thinking about creativity.
9. Inspiration comes to those who leave space for it to come in. A busy mind usually lacks the space.
10. I have a smaller card tacky waxed to the bottom edge of my monitor that says, "To stop suffering stop thinking."

And therein lies the real secret roadblock to all creativity...at least for me. We spend far too much more time thinking about our art than just doing our art. Being smart is highly overrated because it requires us to do too many mental exercises to prove to ourselves that we should be doing what we already know we want to be doing. And the process of rationalizing and the desire to master each step is the process of not doing the final step. The "going out and shooting."

The photographic process (in a holistic sense) works best for me when it works like this: My brain comes up with an idea for a visual image. (Not the overlay of techniques but the image itself ). I quickly decide how I will do the image. I go into action and book a model or call a likely subject. We get together and I try to make my vision work. Within the boundaries of the original idea we play around with variations and iterations. Finally, the photo session hits a crescendo, and the subject and I know we've gone as far as we can, and are spent.

My years spent as an engineering student taught to be logical and linear, but have been my biggest impediment to doing creative work. Because there's always a subroutine running that says, "This is the step-by-step approach to doing X." And I'm always trying to approach things logically. But to get to X is hardly ever a straightforward process and being able to step outside routine and to stretch past logic creates the time when fun stuff happens.

Beyond my ten steps to choose action over activity is the realization that I already know enough technical stuff to last a lifetime. And, if we admit it to ourselves, the technical stuff it the easiest part to learn because there are no immediate consequences to learning or not learning the material. Really. You might waste a bit of time and money but for most of us that's about it. The hard part is being brave enough to stake out a vision and work on it. The hardest part for most of us is to continually engage the people around us that we want to photograph and convince them to collaborate in the realization of our vision. But it's only through doing it again and again that our styles emerge and our art gets stronger. The technical stuff is so secondary.

As an exercise, when I'm out walking around with my camera I make it a point to approach a stranger each time and ask them if we can make a portrait together. If I get turned down, I approach someone else until I find someone who's willing to put a toe across the fear line and play. The image isn't always stellar. Hell, it's rarely great work. But it gives me the practice and the tools to abate my fears so that when the right muse comes along I am ready and willing to give it my best shot. Practice doesn't make perfect. Practice frees your art. Relentless activity depletes that same energy like air escaping from a balloon.

I hope you'll accept what I've written here in the spirit I've intended. We're all on a journey to amaze ourselves. The first step is to choose action over activity.

And by the way...there is no ultimate camera choice.

Kirk

Playing around again with aspect ratio. While I love the square (1:1) it's always fun and informing to experiment.

Many of us grew up in photography wedded to the 24x36mm frame. The "3:2" aspect ratio. The "standard" of the industry... But there are more formats out in the wild than most people are comfortable using. I've written here many times about the square (1:1) and I'm sure a more able and verbose writer than me could engage you for hours and hours with a discussion about how each format came into being, its historic ramifications, and even its religious symbology, but I am not here to deconstruct alternate aspect ratios, I am here to praise them. 

The 3:2 ratio is chummy and comfortable for most photographers. Some, like me, have a preference for stockier, more square forms while others appreciate the wider feel of the 16:9 format. I find portraits easier to compose in the square. Others find scene are better presented in the wider and more cinematic settings. To each their own.

After decades and decades of making images with square and 3:2 format cameras I've gotten stuck in my ways. Or at least I was until my friend and peer, James Webb decided to pursue a project in a format that was entirely alien to me. He was working, I think, in the 21:9 aspect ratio which, I believe, is similar to CinemaScope or a standard, wide format used for movies. It's what I've used here for all the included samples except for one. I stuck in a 3:2 image just to work as a contrast to the much wider bounds of the other frames. 

James worked for over a year in the way I expect a real artist to work. He went out every day, after work, before work (he's been working on the staff of a high tech company for the past few years years as a video producer. A good day job!) and at lunch time. He never varied from his chosen, wide, horizontal frame configuration and instead looked for images that worked for his formalist structure. At first I was a bit dismissive of the idea. But thankfully James ignored my input entirely and we didn't speak of the project for over a year. This Winter we worked together on a project. He was the videographer and I was the still photographer on a daylong project. At the end of the day he handed me his printed book of wide images and... to be frank...I was blown away with not only how much I loved the way he handled the capture of the various scenes but also the dynamism of the format. It just worked. And the book amazingly fun to look through. It's also impressive. 

I was playing around with cameras today, procrastinating finishing my tax preparation, and I started to look through the menu in my five year old Sigma fp camera. It's the original 24 megapixel one and not the fpL. When I went into the aspect ratio settings I noticed that there was one I had never tried; never even noticed before. In fact, that camera has the 21:9 format available. You can set that ratio and shoot in DNG but when you open the files up in Lightroom Classic they open up to show the full 3:2 frame. You'll need to re-crop them to get back to your original, wide shooting intention. Or... you can be brave and shoot all the wide frames as Jpegs. That's what I did. 

The one camera/one lens kit I worked with this afternoon included the fp and the Sigma 45mm f2.8 lens. That one is a favorite because it's small and light and when used correctly (not at the close focus limits while at a wide open aperture!!!) it's sharp and contrasty. It's actually just right. A Goldilocks of a lens.

I found working with the tighter frame (especially from top to bottom...) was much more difficult than I expected. I needed to move back nearly every time I started photographing something. The next time I go out to shoot in a super wide, cinematic aspect ratio I'll follow James's lead and use a medium zoom instead. Something like a 24-70mm. That way I can more easily get things to fit into the frame. 

I've never been a big fan of composing on the rear screen of the camera but I'm not particularly excited about using the enormous Sigma Loupe that's made for the camera ---even though I've had one for years. And I'm even less excited about buying the EVF that was introduced with the fpL because it makes the camera bigger, less svelte, more kludgy. So, I bit the bullet and went for the naked screen shooting process. 

To really make that work I have to turn up the screen brightness to maximum and make sure to wear my latest eyeglasses prescription to see detail on the 3 inch screen. On a cloudy day like today it works pretty well, and I do find that I compose better on the rear screen than I do in a more immersive optical finder or EVF. Something about the way the images are rendered flat across the glass is more or less like looking into the waist level finder of a Hasselblad 500 C/M or the ground class of my old view camera. You look more. You pay more attention to the edges. Whatever. I did find myself making more compositional adjustments than I usually do and I was happier with some of the frames as a result. 

When I got home and played with the images I remembered why I keep the Sigma fp around even though I have more "complete" cameras I can use. It's the way that camera makes images. The color science Sigma put into the same. But it's also the fact that it's a far less serious camera. I use it in a more cavalier way than I do one of the big Leicas. 

I went out with three batteries this afternoon. I guess it's from some experience I had several years ago when it was my (impatient) perception that the camera "ate" batteries. But I needn't have been so over-prepared. The camera and I walked for two hours, shot a couple hundred frames and we still have almost half of a battery charge left. I think the camera was just showing off for me today. But I have to say that I find it adorable and fun. A nice combination for an inanimate object. It's small and sweet. Go buy one. You'll see what I mean...

Images below.

a "3:2" sample to show the differences. Also one just below.

SXSW is back. This week is the set-up week for the main show.

By Friday downtown will be packed with attendees. 

Right now it's the education component that was added

a while back. We'll have fun shooting the big show!!!

This enormous pile of dirt will be transformed into an obstacle course.

Rivian (the electric car maker without the insane CEO) will use it to demo the 

off road capabilities of their trucks. The trucks that don't rush after a brief rain shower....

If you own a CyberTruck you are probably not reading this... But if you are, you got screwed. Bad. By a psychopath. But hey, everyone makes mistakes. Don't bother leaving a comment; it will be excised. 

I guess everyone has a friend or a family member who has decided to institute an endless and ever changing list of diet restrictions which they think will make them immortal and immune to the ravages of aging. Mostly, in the long run, that just makes them more miserable than people who can actually enjoy food. Just sayin' 

opinionated artist/photographer/gadfly testing out his fp in a wider aspect ratio. 

 

I've overcome old prejudices and have come to really, really like the 35mm focal length on full frame cameras. It's fun.