Happy Hour Shoot at Manuel's Restaurant.

About a year ago we did the photography (and a little video) for restaurant website. My advertising agency client did a nice job filling the restaurant with representative talent and I was left to do my favorite kind of advertising shoot. I asked the restaurant to serve everyone whatever they wanted, I waited for the first round of margaritas to be vanquished and then, by dint of just hanging out with my camera, I became invisible to everyone under 30 and began to shoot from whatever vantage point I wanted. We had a nicely populated restaurant and I shot whatever looked good. Sometimes I would prompt our "actors" or ask them to repeat a movement or expression that looked especially nice but most of the time I just stood back, or down, and snapped away.

All of the images we produced for the website were done in color and delivered in color. But sometimes I like to strip away the color and see what the frames really look like.

This was one of the last jobs I shot with the Canon 5D mk2 and the Canon 1DSmk2 cameras. I worked mostly with the Zeiss 85mm and 50mm lenses. The images above were shot with what was arguably the best of the Zeiss lenses for the Canons, the 35mm f2. I added a bit of grain in post processing because the files looked too "clean."

Where are we going with this photography thing?

introspection.

Looking back over the last four years I seem to have made so many definitive pronouncements about the right way to do photography and the wrong way to do photography. As though there is one shining path that everyone must take to be a real photographer. But all the rules I've learned and all the stuff I wrote is based on a time when photography was a different undertaking. I came of age at a time when the craft was maturing. We were turning away from straight documentation (how photography renewed painting by making it obsolete...) and embracing an exploration of not just the world around us but our interpretation, our slant, on what the world looked like through our own individual lens. And our own local and regional biases.

And, until recently, it was a period in the parabola of the life of photography which required both learned and practiced skills (in everything from camera hold to chemical mixing) and financial sacrifice. The financial sacrifice was as daily as our shooting. This made us selective and it made the generation of images less quick and less available. The time lag between shooting and being able to share was also much, much longer---think days and weeks instead of minutes and seconds.

But images are now the endlessly reproducible, intrinsically value-less, MP3's of art. The cost of creation and replication is measured in fractions of pennies. The distribution is painless and immediate and the choice is endless. The old analogy was "trying to get a drink of water from fire hose." The new analogy is: "trying to fill a dixie cup from a tsunami." How we interact with images has changed completely but have we/I made the evolutionary transition? Can anyone whose experience was birthed in a previous age make the wholesale jump into a new age without the momentum of his old baggage pushing him off the path of unrelenting progress? And would we even recognize the markets if we saw them?

I had to photograph this upside down.

I visit Michael Reichmann's Luminous Landscape website frequently. On that site the feeling I get is of a group of well to do men of a certain age (over 40?, over 50?) who've decided to embrace the new tools but ignore the newer art. The site is a rich resource for learning best practices in landscape photography but the work they show is of a certain period. An aesthetic frozen in the amber of a different time. As is mine and as is the "works" and discussion on every other "respected" site on the web. We are the codification of how things have been done. From my railing about the stinky baby diaper hold to my reverence for the look for old, medium format, black and white images. Even to my selection of human subjects. My prejudices are so worn and predictable. I don't want to make portraits of fat people. I don't think everyone is beautiful on the outside and unfortunately that's all my camera can show. I'm like an engineer doing best practices for the manufacture of vacuum tubes in a microchip era.

As amateurs we make the mistake of looking to established professionals for inspiration, guidance and as sources to emulate but they are the ones who are marking the milestones of history past. To endlessly recycle a variation on an "Avedon" or to "cover" yet another Ansel Adams masterpiece with our own less invested version just adds to the giant, planet wide haystack, which makes finding the little needles of diamond and gold harder and harder.

I guess what I'm really thinking and trying to say is that there is no right  way. No one way. We all have choices. We can continue to go out and explore our own worlds with the idea that we are only creating for ourselves and, in that case, it matter not a bit if we are derivative, if the images are blurry, if we're copying Terry Richardson or Chase Jarvis.  It doesn't matter if we use a big Nikon or a little Olympus. It doesn't matter if we shoot raw or jpeg as long as we find our own joy in the process. Alternately, we can go through a painful transition that is comprised of abandoning the past and going on an endless quest to find what our most personal vision is. In some cases only to find that it's about comfort and routine and safety and that we were never cut out to walk the lonely paths of our most revered artists, like Josef Koudelka or Joel Peter Witkin. And in the end the failure of our mission to break from the nest and move away from the strong, magnetic pull of the assimilated/collective vision is too overwhelming and yields up no rewards and no real treasures.

I grew up in America at a time when everyone got a trophy and every middle class child of even moderate privilege was consistently told that everyone could grow up to be whatever they wanted, even president or olympian, if they put their minds to it. But the truth of the matter is that it's not true. The olympians are almost entirely physical and psychological outliers. Becoming president is in the hands of mischievous and malicious gods in cahoots with the tendrils of fate. And not everyone is an artist. No matter how hard I try I cannot will myself to be "more creative" more insightful and more talented. 

Each of us can take time to attain clarity about why we photograph. And maybe, when we do, it will clear the air for us and make us happier to do that which we can. With more sense of accomplishment.

Whatever art there is in our photographs it is far beyond equipment and opportunity. To do work that we can like, and that others can find something in, we need to add value to what we see. We do it through style and point of view. The secret is to show people a thing or a person or a subject in a way that's never really been seen before. But here's the sad truth: The world is shrinking by leaps and bounds and so many of us are using the same tools, hunting the same visual prey and consulting the same references that the images are becoming homogenous. Pasteurized like whole milk and robbed of their distinctive taste and pleasure.

We have become almost circular in our reference. And it's destroying the surprise and the wonder of the images that we share. That's another reason to abandon our "heros" and to remain insulated from the world of photography at large.

And that's why we end up talking about the gear. It's fun, it's objective, it's hierarchical and it's usually easily attainable. Everything that art is not. 

Just a thought, you're always asked if the cup is half empty or if it's half full. In reality, when you sip the last fragrant ounce of delicious coffee the cup is still full. It's full of air. Oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen and trace gases. And it is now full to the brim with.....potential.

I hate having to add this note of explanation below but......

This particular blog is not about depression, bitterness and anger. Just a series of questions that all aspiring artists should ask themselves from time to time.  Coupled with one big question: why do we do this?  Which leads to the biggest existential question: Why are we here? And while I'm here, which camera should I buy.....?

blog note: Hey! Reader. Consider leaving a comment. I like the feedback. Thanks, Kirk

The most valuable resource of a portrait photographer? Hint: It's not the camera or the lights...

It's time. Time and patience. The images that I've taken which I like the most are the ones that came in second or third sessions with the same subject. The best portraits come after we try all the goofy stuff, all the serious stuff and all the trendy stuff. Once we get that out of the system we can work on just building a collaboration and playing around with the images. That's the way it works best for me.

This image is not traditionally lit. The light is coming from a point that's on the same plane as Lou's face, not from above or below. The main light is a smaller reflector softened by a beauty dish on the same axis. A big light right next to a small light. Don't know why-----it just seemed like fun.

Slowing down and enjoying the conversations and time together may be more important than Zeiss glass or ultra-megapixel sensors. I know it's more important than which light you choose.

Hasselblad Camera. 180mm lens. Kodak Verichrome Black and White Film (type 6041). Epson Scan.

A portrait on a cold and dreary day. A beautiful respite.

Lou.

In this frame, serious and intent. In the following frame, laughing at our mock seriousness.

New Year's Day Walk with the Sony a99 and One Lens.

I've been learning things about myself lately that I would never have suspected in the past. One thing I've learned is that I'm not comfortable with expensive cameras. I bought a Sony a99 (which I consider to be expensive) and I've been uncomfortable taking it outside the studio on walks. It's not that I think anything in particular will happen to it, rather, on some subconscious level I think I'm just anxious about using it up.  With less expensive cameras I never worry about things like the number of shutter actuations I'm putting on a camera, or how much the camera gets bounced around. But, when I take an expensive camera out I tend to think the way I do when I put on a nice suit---I don't want to get it dirty or scuffed.  And if I really like the way the suit fits I don't want to---use it up.

I know it's a bit crazy but I have no compunction at all dragging any of the other cameras around with me. Anyway, just to get over my irrational dis-logic I grabbed the a99 and the 85mm Sony f2.8 lens and took it out for a long New Year's Day walk. And what I found out was that this particular camera is.....lovely.

I started my walk at Barton Springs Pool and headed downtown. The roundtrip was about four and a half miles, plus a detour for a cappuccino at Caffe Medici and a quick stop at Whole Foods Market on Sixth and Lamar.

The three attributes of the a99 that I find I like best are: 1. The very quiet and un-frenetic shutter. There's no mirror slap and the first curtain is set to be electronic so the noise profile of the camera is low and subdued. A secondary benefit, beyond aural discretion, is the elimination of the mirror and shutter vibration that comes with most DSLRs and seems magnified in full frame DSLR cameras.

2. The electronic viewfinder is a very efficient way to compose and technically "set" photographs. I've mentioned the idea of "pre-chimping" on a regular basis since I started working with the nice electronic viewfinder produced by Olympus for the various Pen cameras. The viewfinder on the a99 is big, clear, detailed and nearly transparent, from an operational point of view. I love being able to look into the EVF and see, immediately, if the scene will be properly exposed, or if I have to pay more attention to white balance or contrast. And being able to visualize the effects of custom creative settings before committing to a frame is wonderful. 

I understand that some people feel the (few) issues with an EVF outweigh the value provided by the technology but I regard the EVF as mandatory now for truly professional photographic tools. I also like that the brightness and the color balance of the EVF can be fine-tuned or customized to each user's preferences.

3. Finally, the camera is neither too big nor too heavy to carry around for hours at a time. Nothing like the ponderous Canon 1DS mk2 I was carrying around a couple of years ago. The a99 is smaller than other professionally targeted cameras and it's a real benefit for the people who go everywhere with their cameras. The same can be said for the tiny, 85mm f2.8 lens. It weighs next to nothing.  If I need to feel burdened in order to justify my status as a professional photographer I have several options: I could seek out the assistance of a mental health expert or, I could add a battery grip to the bottom of the a99 bringing up the weight (three batteries, total, in the mix in this configuration) and size by at least 50%. But my perception is that clients don't really care about the cameras anymore and most of the non-professional photographers I hang around with actually like the idea of "smaller, lighter but still high quality."

I was happy with the Sony a77's and I'm very happy with my two Nex cameras so why did I bite the big financial bullet and drag home this expensive tool? I can answer that by telling you a tiny part of my conversation with a good, long time client I met for lunch at our favorite Chinese restaurant today. We were talking about doing more marketing work for several restaurant groups in Austin and he wanted to know if I was still moving into video.  All of the websites will probably end up getting video art on the landing pages. He wants to work with me as the supplier for both stills and video and he was checking in to see that I still had the desire to do video and, more importantly, that I was still making forward progress in the field.

He loves kinetic, handheld, fast cut video and we talked for a bit about the capabilities of the a99. He suggested I work on my hand held video snapshot style and we moved on to another conversation. If I do one or two video projects for the restaurants I will have paid for the camera all at once. But more importantly it's easier to shoot fast moving stuff when you can maintain full phase detection autofocus or just as easily switch to manual focus and make use of the very well implemented focus peaking. The client likes slow motion effects and the a99 is one of the first DSLRs to offer native 60 fps at its highest resolution and quality settings. It slows down beautifully, in post production, for slo-mo effects.

So, as I walked around the lake and through downtown I started to warm up to the a99 pretty much for the first time. Amazing to me given that I've had the camera for more than a month now and this is my first real episode of bonding with the device.

But the proof of the pudding is in the tasting. I knew it was a good serviceable camera when I reviewed the high ISO images I'd made a few weeks ago at the Dell World Conference but now I had a new set of images to pry into and analyze. I shot raw yesterday and converted in Lightroom 4.3. The colors are rich and the files have the long tonality that comes from generous dynamic range and well engineered, in camera curves.

It's hard to get emotional about the a99.  There are no real eccentricities of the kind that make you love and hate a tool simultaneously. The best description I can come up with is that it feels incredibly neutral. The ball is in your court. The camera can be configured to render a bunch of different looks but in the hand and in the raw processor the overwhelming feeling is neutrality.

It might be the Goldilocks story of top professional cameras: Not too little, not too big. Not too wacky but not too normal. From the sensor to the handling to the sound, to the feeling you get when you hold it, everything seems just right.

In my experience there are two ways to fall in love. One is the instant reckless infatuation. You fall head over heels when the other person walks through the door. For weeks or months the other person can do no wrong. Every conversation is enchanting but-----a short time later there's the fiery break up, the realization that you have nothing in common and that your friends are staunch conservatives while her's are Molotov cocktail throwing Marxist radicals. In a flash it's all over between you. 

And then there's the person you fall in love with after a long, growing friendship. It's quieter, less dramatic and less---emotional. But it lasts and it causes a lot less wear and tear on you. 

As I warm up to the Sony a99 I think it's a lot more like the second option. Less drama, more value. A few more walks and I think we'll be comfortable together. 

A new year of photography. I only have one resolution...

And that resolution is to spend less time sitting in front of my computer and more time out walking, taking photos, dipping myself into the river of real life. I have lots of micro goals but taking back my time from the tar pits of the internet is the sole resolution.  To that end I've wound down my participation in almost every forum out there. My time on Facebook is limited to about five minutes a day. I've largely given up on Twitter except to automatically post a notice every time I finished publishing a blog.

My take on the whole internet thing is this: The more information I accrue the less I know. Reading about something is not the same as understanding through doing. Reading someone else's description of eating a great meal is never as satisfying as sitting down and experiencing that meal on your own. For the same reason I never waste time watching sports on TV (or in person). Why would you want to do that when you can go out and play the sport yourself?

So many of my friends are locked into a logic pit or endless learning loop. They spend hours every day reading about someone else's photographic techniques as though reading about it is an osmotic process that will embue them with the knowledge they need to do something with their cameras. In the end they might discover that the only real knowledge is that which they win themselves. Trial and error is a better learning tool than most other methods. Trying and refining is the next tool. Mastery and abandonment is the next step. Learn something remarkably well and then abandon it in order to do the art without conscious reference to operational information and logic. But all the web can offer is a river of information. It doesn't offer the trial, the test, the process of making the art your own. I used to look to the web for indications of where photography was going. All I discovered is that everyone's work is going in all different directions and none of those directions have anything to do with my work.

My goal isn't to master a fad or a popular technique. My goal is to make images that matter to me. In my style. And that's a style I've built over decades; one I don't plan on changing to match the whims of collective. If you are having problems developing a style the first step is to turn off all the external influences that distract you.  And that means less time on the internet and more time doing your work.

The image above was taken last Saturday. I'd gone for a walk in the late afternoon.  I'd passed by this building so many times during daylight hours and never really looked in the windows but when the daylight faded and the lights of the display became dominant the form stood out. I was carrying my Sony Nex-6 and the (permanently attached :-) ) 50mm 1.8 OSS lens. I lifted it to my eye and snapped a few frames. When I got back to the studio I cropped it square and printed a small copy. I can't explain why I like it but I do. And if I'd spent the time "researching" on the web I would have never seen the scene in this particular light. It would not have existed for me.

My one resolution: Create more photographs. Spend less time on the internet.

“Inspiration is for amateurs—the rest of us just show up and get to work,” --Chuck Close

Good light is what you miss if you spend too much time indoors.

Heading home into the sunset. Sony Nex 6 with 50mm 1.8 OSS lens.

The last bit of color and light in the winter sky...

Some days I go out with the idea that I'm on a search for good images. Some days I go out with the idea that I need a walk. On the days on which I'm just walking I always bring along a camera, just in case. I never understood the holistic utility of a good walk until I recently started reading research about the way our addiction to two dimensional screens is changing our brain physiology and hampering our ability to visualize and function optimally in the real, three dimensional world.

Seems that sitting all day looking at a screen disrupts your ability to absorb three dimensional clues and information. It also reduces your physical system's micro-balance. The diminution of one's ability to operate optimally in three dimensional space also limits and bounds one's cognitive processes. Put another way, sitting around looking at screens all day makes you a dumb ass with balance issues. Not the way you really wanted to spend your adult life.

Fortunately the cure is painless and, for photographers, productive. After a spell at the crusty old monitor/internet connection you head outside in a pair of comfortable shoes and look at the world around you as you walk. An hour or two of walking can do much to mitigate the creeping mental lethargy brought on by excessive two dimensional visual activities. But you have to be diligent. There has to be a balance.

Our DNA pushes us to crave action and movement. It conditions us to crave the act of moving through space. When we're stationary and sedentary we're battling our own evolutionary imperatives. 

Thank God we invented photography. It gives us a ready and reliable excuse to push away from our desks, easy chairs, dining room tables and couches in order to head outside and get some creative thinking and seeing done. A photography secret for living longer and happier lives.

Doesn't really matter if you come back with winning images. It really is a case of the journey being more valuable than the immediate results. I no longer rationalize the time I spend walking through the city. It's not about casting a temporal net in which to catch images. Now it's just an exercise I do to increase my ability to play well in three dimensions and to unfetter my mind from the stationary physical barriers that researchers agree hamper advanced problem solving and non-linear creative thought. Try it.