Thursday, April 17, 2025
I've had time to use the Leica DLUX8 a lot. It's a fun camera. It's a good camera. There are a few niggles that could be improved. None of them rise to "dealkiller" status.
Saturday, April 12, 2025
Yes. I've spent some time with the Leica DLUX8. Good acquisition or big mistake? As usual, I actually used it before I decided.
Added on Sunday after seeing many Jpeg files: Good Acquisition? Yes. Very much so.
And we end this blog with a quiet contemplation of cappuccino.
Friday, April 11, 2025
Spring time in Texas. That wonderful two weeks between Summers...
When I work on things like events or commercial shoots with their "laundry lists" of shots that need to be captured I have a camera in my hands for hours at a time. That may be why the feel of a camera, for me, takes precedence over cutting edge technical specs for cameras, and why I've been hesitant to change brands after finding a system that feels right to me. One would imagine that after six, seven or eight hours with a camera in hand or hanging over a shoulder on a strap, the last thing I would want to do is carry a camera around with me when I'm "off the clock."
But it seems nothing could be further from the truth. When B. and I went to the Austin Epicure for breakfast this morning (just around the block and down a bit) I had the new, little Leica DLUX8 (which I recently claimed I would probably never buy.... yes, the gods punish even commercial hubris) which I use to take a few quick photos. Mementos. Notes.
The image accompanying the type here was taken just before dinner at the house of best friends. They are amazing entertainers. One half of the partnership is a brilliant three dimensional designer who loves to set a beautiful table -- usually outside in their gardens. The other half is a professional whose side hobby is cooking. He's a veteran of dozens of cooking classes and schools and when you are asked to dinner the only response that makes any sense is: "Oh Hell Yes!!! What kind of wines should I bring?"
When I leave the house I always take a camera with me. I walked into their backyard and saw the table and fell, visually, in love with the entire presentation. And, of course, I was motivated to take photographs so I could later send a small batch to my hosts as an incidental "thank you."
This image was taken with a Panasonic S1R. The first 47 megapixel camera I owned. Accompanied by a 50mm lens. Likely the Zeiss ZF version I've owned for at least a decade now. The shot was reflexive. The composition quick and casual. When I look at it the image reminds me of a great dinner, great friends, and the kind of Spring evening that starts out a bit close and ends up with a coolness at night filled also with the soft, yellow glow of light bulbs strung across a garden and people pulling sweaters on against the chill but at the same time having too much fun to go inside. The host lighting a wood burning fire in a close by fire pit as candles flicker on the table with their dance cascading off every reflective surface. From the wine glasses to the silverware. And it all starts with a well set table and flowers, freshly picked from the garden.
And for just those two weeks between Summer and Summer we get to have weather that requires nothing but an ability to feel pleasure.
The camera is just there to create visual keepsakes for those who might be interested.
Oh! It must be Good Friday.
Thursday, April 10, 2025
Alien Spacecraft Discovered by the Railroad Tracks that Run Through Downtown.
I often post images and forget to come back and caption them. I guess I'm either too lazy for this kind of presentation (blogging) or I wrongly assume that everyone thinks as I do and you immediately understand what I was looking at when I took a photograph.
Take this image for instance. If one were acquainted with trains and train trafficking they might recognize this as some sort of device having to do with routing trains so they don't collide with each other on the same track. Kind of makes sense...I guess. I find it odd that the silver, metallic device just sits in the middle of some scrubby grass next to a largely unused parking lot near the middle of Austin. I can't imagine why it needs the rocketship nosecone apparatus at the top. I look at the bottom and see the device supported by four legs which keep it about a foot off the ground. I am further mystified as there is no writing, no labels and no logo on the device that might speak to its provenance or aim us toward its owners. It is, to me, an enigma. A mystery.
When I look at it while walking with a camera I respond to the bright silver finish and the odd rocket-esque device on the top and I stop trying to figure out what it's actually use is. Why it was made and placed in a little plot of almost indestructible, native Texas grass. I'm sure I could do a search online and find its exact reason for existing but as I may have mentioned before, I am quite lazy.
Instead, when I look at stuff like this I tend to regress to a time in my life when I spent most Summer days lounging around the house (after swim practice, of course!), soaking up the air conditioning in my parent's house, and reading science fiction books. Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein, and scores of others. Reading about robots gone awry on the surface of the planet Mercury, lonely astronauts adrift and powerless in the depths of space, hard-headed experts working out the faux science of hyper-space travel. Robots grappling with the idea of self while still hewing to the three laws of robotics. And then there is the ancient law that says those who can't enjoy an occasional science fiction novel are doomed to be boring...and fatuous.
And when I regress to that state of mind everything looks like an alien object put here for a reason we don't yet know. Like the Monolith in "2001: A Space Odyssey". And so I photograph the found object in order to catalog the presence of alien life all around us. Relics from the cosmos...
When I look at the image above I think perhaps that the top part, the rocket ship shaped, torpedo inflected appurtenance might be the actual space craft of a tiny species of highly advanced beings from another universe. Like the people who lived in the bus station locker in the movie, "Men in Black."
Then I notice another clustered unit just to the right and about forty feet back from the "mother ship" and I wonder what the relationship is between the two objects. And I wonder if it would be scary to see these things at night, hiding from the liquid glow of a greenish-yellow streetlight. Would they be more interesting photographed in color after the sun sinks over to the west towards Fredericksburg and then hides just past Marfa? Would the colors of the urban space reflect off the shiny surfaces in a peculiar way? Would it seem odd to people passing by to see an old, grizzled photographer setting up a last century tripod in order to capture something special about something very mundane and casual? Would they call the police? Would they just shake their heads and remember something about eccentricity and aging?
I walk around the device several times and let my subconscious decide the angle from which I'll take the final photograph. I'm using a small camera with a wide angle lens. I used to photograph things like this with a longer lens but when I started celebrating the idea of object strangeness I started to see the perceived distortion of the wider lenses as being a partner in my art/science fiction/documentation. And I found I liked it.
I chose to shoot in black and white because, in color, the image was boring. How do I know? Well, I tried shooting it in color and....nothing. Contrasty black and white? Much nicer. Now if I could only come up with a short, concise caption that would sum up what I was feeling and how I interpreted what I was looking at I'll be set and ready to share.
Just a thought about an image. It's important that, if you want to have fun while photographing, you have the mindset to make things fun. And sometimes that means interpreting the things you see around you in a different and sometimes sillier way.