Monday, June 25, 2012

We're back. This article is worth reading.

In the meantime this is a fun read:

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/technology/photo-overload-everyones-taking-pics-but-is-anyone-really-looking/article4365499/

I love the idea that people are always fidgeting with their smartphones because they can no longer smoke cigarettes in most places and don't know what to do with their hands....

edited 6/25  to add:


http://jmcolberg.com/weblog/extended/archives/photography_after_photography/

This is a nicely prodding piece of writing as well...

And, a book by the original photo critic, A. D. Coleman...




Sunday, June 24, 2012

This is my style. This is my look.

6/25: Image edited this morning with a judicious square crop.

Anyone who practices a craft goes through a period wherein they feel they've lost their mojo. The magic touch that is part of their unique style. Nothing that used to work seems to work anymore and the artist goes through a period of loss that calls into question their skills, their vision and their very reason to keep going.  I know, I've been there.  And more than once.

I've been working with digital cameras for more than a decade but I was never able to duplicate the look I got when I was shooting portraits on black and white film back in the 1990's.  I've been bouncing from camera system to camera system hoping that I'd find a camera that would do the magic for me.

Recently I started shooting portraits with a Hasselblad film camera and black and white film. I kept thinking I was closing in on the old feel I used to have but at best they were glancing blows, resonance of memory imposed on technique.  But yesterday I think I got my mojo back.  An old friend came into town and I set up the kind of light I used to use when I photographer her nearly twenty years ago.  A big, soft light used in as close as I could.  A black panel to the opposite side to keep the spill light from bouncing around the room and ruining the integrity of my wonderful deep shadows.

My model was intuitive.  She seemed to sense what I was looking for, filling the missing pieces in the puzzle I had scattered in front of me. I work in an almost detached and automatic way, adjusting the light, adjusting the pose and adjusting the give and take.

When the session was over and we said, "goodbye" I sat down and started looking through the files. I ran them through as much post processing as I needed to get them back to the state that was almost automatically achieved in the days of big film (if you considered hours in a darkroom to be "automatic"). And when the file looked back at me from my monitor I knew that I could keep doing portraits. A mental block had been lifted.  I showed myself (dragged kicking and screaming) that I could do what I wanted to do with digital cameras.  I hadn't lost my chops, rather I'd submerged them in the subconscious resistance to change.

To paraphrase Frank Costanza in the Jerry Seinfeld Show, "I'm back, baby!"

Making Portraits.


The quiet moments between the poses are as valuable and interesting as the poses we plan.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Postprocessing as the equivalent of darkroom techniques.


From this afternoon's portrait session. Minimal processing.

Nikon D3200 and kit lens. ISO 100.

And one more variation processed to make the image in line with what I ultimately wanted to see:


All images ©Kirk Tuck 2012

I think the discipline of post-processing should be a process of distillation rather than aggrandizement.  At a certain point it's up to the content of an image to carry the day, not the package the image comes in.









First Portrait with Nikon D3200 camera and kit lens.



From this afternoon's portrait session.


Enduring Beauty. An afternoon portrait session.



I first photographed Lou nearly twenty years ago.  You've seen her portraits from that era on the Visual Science Lab many times. We had the chance to work together again, this afternoon. When she walked into the studio I thought she had been frozen in time.  Once in a great while  you run across a natural beauty. It can knock the breath out of you.

Lou Lofton is the author of, Warren Buffett Invests Like Girl, And Why You Should Too.  She was an analyst and writer for the Motley Fool financial website and.....she was Ben's very first babysitter.

The portrait above was taken with a Sony a77 camera and the 70-200mm f2.8 G zoom lens. ISO 50.  Lighting: Elinchrom Ranger RX AS with a 72 inch Fotodiox umbrella and diffuser.

I also used a Nikon D3200 and a Hasselblad MF film camera during the session.













Friday, June 22, 2012

People in public. Originally posted in Oct. 2009.


 

Image from Rome. The Pantheon in the background. Circa 1994 ©2009 Kirk Tuck


My wife will tell you that I spend too much time reading photo fora on the web. I've begun to see that she's right because I keep reading the same stuff in new disguises. This morning a fellow posted a photo at the Strobist Discussion group. He was amazed to find that Cabella's sporting good store might have used an off camera flash to create one of their ads. Amazing. As though we advertising photographers had never used an off camera flash or taken lights outdoors!!!

But the thing that struck me recently is how cowardly people have become about their gear. I've seen ten or fifteen posts in the last week from (mostly Americans) people who want to know how to safeguard their equipment in such dangerous places as: Paris, France and Rome, Italy and even, gasp, Copenhagen, Denmark. The thing that strikes me as funny is that each of these places has a much lower violent crime rate than just about any major city in the U.S. And each of these cities is a pedestrian city where, even in the unlikely event of a crime being perpetrated, you are surrounded by helpful people ready to jump in and help ensure social stability.

The idea that your Canon Rebel needs be locked in a hotel safe or secured to your body with a special strap containing unbreakable wires (what a good way to be decapitated should your camera get stuck in a train door......) is laughable. If you are dragging that much paranoia along on your vacation you may need to invest in other things. Therapy comes to mind. More wide ranging travel is another.

The second kind of post that seems to come up, with annoying regularity, is the idea that, to shoot in the street, you must become a stealthy ninja and your camera should be so small that it becomes all but invisible at any distance beyond five feet. The idea being, I guess, that a hulking American, complete with baggy cargo shorts, a promotional T-shirt for their favorite NFL team, white athletic socks, and day-glo Nike running shoes (never used for that purpose), topped with a baseball cap, will be able to sneak through a crowd of well dressed Europeans and will be able to position themselves in just the right way to SECRETLY take startling good photographs.

Their ideal camera is silent with an incredible zoom lens and a very small foot print. Either that or a Canon/Nikon/Sony/Olympus coupled with a bag full of lenses. Which they are deathly afraid some grandmother from Provencal will slit their throat to own.

Face it. You'll probably stick out. Face it. People will see that you have a camera in your hand. And unless you are doing your tourism in the Sudan you'll see when you look around that almost everyone else has a camera or a cellphone with a camera, or a video camera. They're everywhere. They are ubiquitous. Believe me, people in the European community also buy and use cameras.

Back in 1994 Belinda and I headed to Rome for a few weeks of vacation and photography. I brought along one camera. A Hasselblad 500c/m and a 100 mm f3.5 planar lens. That, and a few one gallon ziploc bags of tri-x 120 film. I spent most of my time walking along shooting whatever caught my attention. If a person looked interesting I'd ask them to pose. Sometimes I'd just smile, nod and shoot.

Books on travel caution newbies to be constantly aware of their surroundings. Hypervigilant if you will. I discarded all that advice out of necessity. After every twelve frames I'd have to stop and reload the 120 back on the camera. Since I was using a waist level finder I often had to stop as the light changed and take incident meter readings. No one cared. Every once in a while an older gentleman would ask about the camera. Younger people ignored it.

After a long morning and the better part of an afternoon spent poking into the nocks and crannies of Rome (and there are many) I sat down for a moment,at an outside table, at the closest food vendor with a direct view of the Pantheon. The restaurant was a McDonalds. The couple in front of me was having an animated conversation. I looked into my viewfinder, framed the shot, adjusted the exposure and fired the shutter. It was not a silent camera given the size of the moving mirror..... The couple turned to look and I smiled and nodded. They smiled back and with their tacit approval I shot several more images where they looked into the lens.

No one was fearful. There was no conflict or even a hint of animosity or aggression from either side. And this is the way it has gone for me and other street shooters for decades and decades. If someone doesn't want to be photographed they'll let you know. If you don't push it they won't either.

I like the image above. With billions and billions of images swirling around out in the attention-o-sphere there is a very small percentage that are relational. I like images that either speak directly to the viewer or show relationships.

The first (and probably only) step is to conquer your irrational fears that: A. Someone is always trying to rip you off. B. That everyone who is photographed instantly turns into a serial killer and they are aimed at you. C. You won't have people's willing complicity.

If you are calm, relaxed and see other people as, well, just other people, you'll probably do just fine. You might want to practice photographing strangers by becoming a tourist in your own town. I find that a nice weekend of street shooting in nearby San Antonio is just the right "warm up" before a trip abroad.

Get comfortable outside your comfort zone!

Bon Voyage. Kirk