Give me a couple of week's play time and I'll try to write something. But as you know, I'm not very prolific and it may take me some time to really do it justice.....
The battery is charging.
First up: I'm so happy with all the responses (online and offline) that I got about the last blog post. People really do want to understand why they photograph and what it all means. At least my readers pretty much uniformly understand that technical prowess should be a means to an end and not an end goal. Several people wrote to say that they couldn't express what it was they wanted to capture in pictures until they had the skills to make the statement and I think that's a different way of looking at the same equation. I think we need to have more give and take about projects that are dear to our hearts. And maybe we need to share picture stories more often. People are always welcome to post links within their comments as long as it's not spam-o-rama.
Second: A few little items that have made life fun and intriguing for me in the past few days. I've always liked working with the manual focus Zeiss lenses I've been buying up like a college kid buying pizzas, but I've had issues with focusing. In good light....no problem. In marginal light those sucky autofocus enabled focusing screens are awful. I end up depending on the focus confirmation and I am disappointed from time to time.
Yesterday I got the first of a mess of split image rangefinder focusing screens I've been researching and ordering. It's the EC-S screen for the 1Dmk2N (and all other early 1D camera variants out there). The screen was a whopping $30 and it's changed things for me. A nice split screen in the middle that show very clearly when you've achieved sharp focus......two images come together as one!!! Then there are two concentric circles around the center that give a sharper (more aggressive??) indication of in and out of focus. The rest of the screen seems brighter too. If you get one be sure to head into the custom function menu and switch screens there so the meter will continue to be accurate.
I also ordered a screen for the Canon 5Dmk2. It's not a Canon screen so I'm holding my breath in anticipation. It comes from a company called, Cowboy Studios. It's called a 180 something or other...
How they decide on these names I just don't know. Once I found this screen I was emboldened to also order one for the 7D but I look forward to its arrival with much trepidation because the screens in 7D's are not made to be user replaceable. But they include tools and an "instruction book."
If you look hard and long enough on the web you'll find just about anything. I'll try my luck with the 5D2 and the 7D but I won't mess with the 60D because it's currently my "go to" video production camera and I'm right in the middle of a project.
I came across the photo below. It's from 2006 or 2007. I was doing a PR job in Scottsdale, AZ for the folks at Freescale Semiconductor. I thought it was a silly photograph and that the more curmudgeonly among my critiques would have fun sending me "interesting comments." Lost to the crop are my amazingly cool black shoes. Interesting shoot coming up this Tues. I've been reminded by the client several times that I am currently "under NDA" but since it's something newsy I look forward to spilling the details a few days later. After the embargo is finished.
I've decided to go ahead and do the book revision project I anguished about all last week. Does that mean we'll have a flurry of Pollyanna/Happy blog posts? Maybe. That's it. Tomorrow is my first afternoon off in ages. You probably know what that means. A big walk thru downtown Austin to check out the value of that new focusing screen in conjunction with some manual focus piece of glass. Either that or some portraits. Hope you're having a good weekend. Kirk
It's always about the look. Not about the light.
If my son were to come to me and ask me to teach him photography what would I say? How would I do that? There are many people today who would tell an aspiring photographer that he needn't pursue a traditional education at a college or university. They would state (and believe) that everything you need to learn to be successful is on the web or can be learned at a series of daylong or weekend long workshops.
But would that be enough to make one a good photographer or even a successful photographer?
I guess the first thing we should do if we pursue this topic is to make a demarcation between good and successful. Most would point to financial success as a critical marker. And in that regard mastering the bare mechanics of a plastic art and wrapping a cocoon of business strategy around it might be enough to engender what the typical man in the street would call success. If you can make a process routine, predictable and appealing you may well be able to somewhat mass produce the process and sell the same basic steps over and over again. The process of learning from lighting diagrams, charts and "behind the scenes" shot is, to good photography, what "paint by numbers" is to real painting.
As the field of photography broadened over the last decade it attracted more and more people who, by dint of their demographic, didn't have the luxury of learning in any other way than by putting their feet on the "dance diagram on the floor" and trying to follow the numbered steps. And I understand that for many this was the available path. A photographer educated in this way is looking for rules and steps that make the photographic product easier and repeatable.
Belinda. Sometime in the last thirty years. Seems like yesterday.
(Originally written in 2004 and modified today)
I was trying to remember all of my initial brushes with photography and piece together when and why the addiction to the process stuck. Christmas in the late 1960's. My unstructured memory of my life before high school would lead me to believe that my family was living at the time outside of Ft. Worth, Texas. Someone in my family got a Polaroid "Big Shot" instant camera and we all took turns using it until the novelty of the fixed focal length and the color quality of the milky, soft, squarish photographs wore off.
My mom and dad were traditional, middle class, single income parents at the time, trying their best to keep everything moving forward while dreading the not too distant cost of paying for three college educations in a row. The cost of unnecessary novelty films seemed as wasteful as tossing quarters from a moving car. We didn't ask for many replacement packs of Polaroid because we were pretty sure that it would come down to a choice between new shoes and film----and our feet were still growing.
I remember stories of my mother going with a Turkish taxi driver to the outskirts of Adana, Turkey to photograph a gypsy tribe with a Kodak Instamatic and color print film---but she rarely pointed this camera at her own family. My next brush with cameras came when I found my parent's older Argus A4 camera, discarded in the garage. It used 127 film. A film size discontinued by Kodak a few years ago. The camera was made of bakelite(tm) plastic and had a finder you composed with but no focusing aids at all. Everything was strictly zone focus. And of course, typical of an inexpensive camera from the 1950's it had no automation or metering whatsoever. But that's why Kodak had pictograms of exposure recommendations packed with every roll of film they sold....
Knowing now my parent's almost pathological resistance to any and all mechanical devices I am amazed at the Kodachrome slides they took of us with this primitive camera back in the very early 1960's.
At any rate, I retrieved it from a box of junk in the garage in our San Antonio home some time in 1971 and revived it. At the time I had no allowance and earned just a little bit of money as a lifeguard at the high school pool. But I bought a roll of black and white film (it was much cheaper to buy and have developed in 1975 than color) and I proceeded to experiment by shooting the only thing that held my interest at the time, my girlfriend, Linda.
Owing to my non-existent technical knowledge and the deterioration of the lens and the body of the camera, the results of my first foray were less than good and I didn't touch a camera again until years later. Sometime around 1974 or 1975 when I had been at school for several years I was working at an audio store, part time. I sold stereo systems (now they are called audio systems). The owner, manager and the other salespeople were avid photography amateurs. One day Herb Ganz flipped open a black Halliburton case that cosseted a family of black Olympus OM-1 camera bodies and lenses, tenderly, in pre-cut cushions of foam. I was hooked.
Herb helped me select and buy my first of many cameras, the Canon Canonet 17 rangefinder. A fixed 40mm 1.7 lens on a sleek and hefty camera that took 35mm film. In the early days that "17" took rolls and rolls of home loader 35mm black and white film. It was the magic of making my first black and white prints in the Ark co-operative darkroom that led me down the path to my photo-addiction and all that it entails.
It will seem odd to the current generations of up and coming photographers that we were able to accomplish so much so well with mechanical units and no computers or instant preview on backlit screens. The moment of my first cognizant love of photography camera when I made a photograph of a cute and adventurous girl friend sitting on some concrete stes in one the neighborhoods just south of campus. She had on her glasses and a cornflower blue Mexican wedding shirt and a baggy pair of short khaki shorts that were quite worn. She sat with her knees up and her legs slightly apart and her shorts billowed out slightly, revealing her white cotton underwear loosely and barely covering her body. I shot a photo. Just one----and I was hooked.
I had reduced her thirsty sexuality and keen sense of playful tease in one inarguably correct image. It would forever conjure up for me the notion of carefree sex and love in the mid-1970's. But with time the photo and the memory of the photo is stronger than any later memory of the same woman. It was at the moment I took the photo that the visual memory imprinted on whichever part of my brain was affected. NOT upon the revelation of the print. Not the final art but the initial conception or discovery of the image. The magic moment for me has always been the realization that there was a scene, a tableau, a moment that had reached a sort of distinct ripeness. I want to freeze "now". And then savor it (the memory) over time.
And here's the funny thing. The photos don't get better or worse. They are always in my mind just the way they were. It's almost as though the matrix that constitutes the right scene and the right time is frozen into an unchanging cube of objective reality. Always my own reality. And, I find, nothing about that sense of reality is universal. I find what I find in each image and it's not mirrored in someone else's viewing. Each person brings his or her own complex reality to the viewing giving the viewer a value commensurate with their own emotional commonalities.
During my years teaching and thru my time in advertising photography existed as a passion, an obsession if you will. I walked thru the streets of cities all over the world discovering the uniqueness of their citizens' existence and the commonality that binds us. As long as I operated in that sphere the enchantment was pretty much complete. And there was a constant and consistent destination for the images I saw, the things I committed to film. The best of the best would become prints and the prints would get shared in shows, both formal and less so.
What I found and find to be most compelling is the way a portrait can capture that thing that led me to find someone interesting, compelling, attractive, delightful and how much I wanted to preserve just that feeling that is a combination of the subject's quick glance, their turn of the head, their sly smile, their earnest eyes.......
This is the way I originally approached taking pictures when I was always the primary audience. As I began to go after paying jobs everything started to shift.
When I photographed primarily for an external audience (an advertising client?) I felt a loosening of emotional control over the ownership of the image. In an image not created for my sole enjoyment I feel a distancing from the work as though it squeaked thru without my complete and complicit approval.
I was struck today with the realization that photography has changed for me in almost every conceivable way. Rather than being a joyous hobby that sucks down every spare dollar, it is a profession that earned me a little over $XX,XXX last month. Instead of spending days in the darkroom coaxing images onto sensitized photographic paper I spend most days tethered to a computer trying to optimize a mish mash (I was going to reflexively write: "mismatch" ) of pixels into beautiful images. The overview challenges are the same: Capture the image and share it on paper. Or, capture the image and share it on the screen. But everything changes from there.
What sucks about all of this? There feels like a disconnection between my thought processes and the computer rendering. Wet photography was more inviting and addictive. It was a learned skill set that was never exactly reproducible. Every print really, REALLY was a unique work of art. Today I spent most of my day processing raw files shot in a UT lab, under existing light, for a technology client. The unsettling aspect was the ease and the degree to which everything in the frame could be corrected. The process seemed so mechanical and cold. Or should I say so binary and cold. And yet, this is the practice of current photography.
The processes all seem compromised. We store images on hard drives and Cd's and DVD's and we're not at all sure if we'll be able to read these media in ten years. The standards, formats and machines will evolove and there is no assurance of backward compatibility. Now we are learning that the CD's and DVD's may not survive the next ten years so that we can even try to using the next successive generation of readers. We can make prints with much more control but they may last only ten or fifteen years before the inks start fading away.....eventually to disregard the work on the paper without a trace. Like an old Ektachrome slide from the 1950's.
Another grievance is the quickness with which everything happens. In the old days clients would show us comps and we would bid. A week later someone would call and tell me I was the successful bidder. Another week would pass as we rounded up props and talent, locations and film. Now clients call and ask for bids with only the most ephemeral description of the project. They want a price immediately and, within the space of a few hours they award the project. They push to shoot immediately with no thought for pre-production (physical) or a thorough thinking through. No, everything seems so transient and thin. Gone are the underpinnings and thoughtful foundations of art. And whether a photographer admits this or not, they are all in it for the art.
So how do I make it work again? How can I be happy doing the work?
I'm thinking these things when I run into John at Chipotle's. We're both ravenous for burritos. Ben and Belinda were there too. We got to talking about how different cultures live and he told a story about a cheese maker in Italy.
The man was 58 years old and all he made was Parmagiano Reggiano cheese. But he made it better every year. And better than everyone else. It always won the top awards in all the food shows and the vitally important cheese competition. Finally, after 20 years the contest officials retired his entry number so that someone else could win. The point was that as a society we don't value mastering and craftsmanship. Only instant gratification. We need to re-value and resell the whole concept of mastery. Maybe that's what gives meaning to our efforts. A non-plastic recording of beauty and sensuality.
But what does this have to do with why I photograph? Because, in spite of my feelings about the commercial marketplace I still pick up my cameras every day and take pictures that delight me....
So, I came across the above in one of my journals and it became the basis for a whole train of thought for me today. And at the bottom of the process is still the question, "Why take photographs?"
Looking at all of this some seven years later is interesting. The cultural switch over to digital imaging is more or less complete. The retreat from the high production demands of fine print to the less produced but more immediate display on screens is largely in its last phase and the mantra of the last two years (with my voice occasionally included) is that moving images will conquer the still market. As though it's inevitable and only a matter of time....
And that led me to re-examine my whole premise and my whole interaction and allegiance to all the plastic arts. And here's what I've found (which in no way is original thinking but in fact is the echo of a pervasive counterstream of philosophy of aesthetics about imaging) : I've been doing video for a while and no matter how entrancing I've never had a memory for a scene of video. When I think about a subject my brain conjures up a still image. The moving footage doesn't resonate in the same way. It has power, yes, but no stickiness. In the same way that movies are transient and what we really remember is the emotion and the dialogue but not the stunning shot. (although there are a handful of exceptions). But still images have a singular power to tattoo layers of information right onto some part of the brain. And they stick there and become symbols for ideas, experiences and emotions. And even many years later that stickiness in the brain speaks to the power of the single image.
When we look over the history of the last century or even of last week it's not the documentary footage that we remember because our brain is not good at cataloging so many interwoven frames into a composite for good storage. Our brains crave the single, fully formed and singular image in their cataloging process. Nothing else comes close.
There's lots of grainy motion picture footage from the Viet Nam war but the images we remember are the still images of the cursory execution of a captured officer taken by Eddie Adams. We remember Ut's photo of the girl running down a road burned by napalm. Images from Iraq trump footage from Iraq, in the stores of our memories.
And so it is also with our personal images. We might have film of our fathers and mothers but our memories are stabilized, reinforced and preserved by the still images we covet. And it's more than nostalgia it's brain science. It's the science of memory and vision.
And so, I've come full circle and entrusted my wonder and amazement at life to my still camera. Video is a powerful marketing tool and it works in the "here and now" but still images have a resonance or a repeating "pass along" factor that can't be beat. If you take a photo of an event that is powerful to you its resonance remains undiminished and this is the true power of photography. To be able to evoke memories and emotions and context without even needed to re-see the photograph once you've initially experienced it. And re-experiencing it can be an additive experience as new subsequent learning is leveraged into your subconscious appraisal of the viewing experience.
I long labored under the depressing idea that the art form I had come to love so much was dying. That we were in the process of writing its obituary. Only to rediscover that it has a power that other media can't match and for that reason alone it earns it's place in the hierarchy of visual art. It is the pervasive nowness of video that gives it power. It's the staying power of still images that gives them their pervasive value. That's not going away and neither are we.
In the past seven years we've lived thru so much and so many cultural adaptations have been made as a result of our diminishing economic power and our fear of global events, relentlessly presented. We are all in a funk of post traumatic stress re-order and it colors our perceptions of value and purpose. But one thing I am sure of and that is we photographers will always want to photograph the things we find special so we can make that indelible tattoo on our own brains of the things we never want to forget. And that's why this is such a valuable art. Photography = permanent brain tattoo.
When I undertake a project, like the LED book, I tend to compulsively jump in with both feet. I feel like ''total immersion" is the only way to really learn a subject. But as I add new stuff to the mix I find that my limited storage space (literally and metaphorically) fills up quick. So every once in a while I do a big ole studio purge. I toss out a lot of stuff. Things that have good market value go to Precision Camera where they sell them for me on consignment. Other things get pieced out to up and coming, or struggling existing, photographers around town. Yesterday I took a box full of optical filters and flash brackets to Precision Camera. Along with a host of batteries I'd collected for cameras I no longer own.
Today I'm feeling especially ruthless. I'm dragging stuff out of closets and out of tool kits. I'm determined to minimalist-ize my space and be like one of the those Zen Monks of photography. But let me tell you, the attachment I feel to some of this (though misplaced) is strong. Every time I jettison something is symbolic of the passing of one era or another. And that nostalgia creates sticky webs that slow down the whole process.
Here's what I'm getting rid of today: A Calumet four foot by six foot softbox (shallow design). A Photoflex four foot by six foot softbox. An Alien Bees Ringlight with cords and the "Moon Unit" softbox. Lots of partially used rolls of different colored seamless paper backgrounds. An orange shipping tube for lightstands and tripods (Indestructible plastic resin). A set of pop up reflectors. Some older light stands. Maybe another set of Profoto strobes (although those have high stickiness.....)
I'm also throwing out any film from corporate jobs prior to 2001. Hell, with the exception of my "art" negatives I may just throw it all away.
Only in this way can I make room for the next wave of stuff that's sure to come. It's just relentless. But that's what I get from living and participating in the world's greatest consumer culture.
But it really doesn't count for much if you don't go back to the office and edit, and then do some color corrections, and then put up a web gallery for your client. And even more importantly, when you get a list of images from your client you really do have to sit back down and do all the post processing you crowed about being an ace at on the shoot day. The retouching, getting the color exactly the way you want it (as opposed to settling for the "correct" way) and then burning the disk you promised your subject.
But, once you get into the habit of following thru you start finding yourself getting things done almost unconsciously.
I promised Selena I would take photos of her for her nascent but quickly blossoming career as a singer/performer if she would give me some time as a model for my just finished LED book. She did her part and now I've done mine.
I hear from a lot of models who get burned by photographers. The photographers promise something in exchange for a model's time and energy and then toss a few unprocessed files into an e-mail and walk away. No wonder models don't take photographers as seriously as we'd like to be taken. So, I'm encouraging everyone out there with an uncompleted project to jump to it and get it done. Once you've cleared the decks you've let the universe know that you are ready and able to jump onto the next fun project. And generally the universe delivers. (No 30 minute guarantee. That's just for pizza.)
Today I needed to make a portrait of one of the doctors at a clinic out near Lake Travis. I packed a Profoto 600b acute pack (battery powered) with a head and the Fotodiox 28 inch beauty dish with matching diffuser. I brought along a flex fill to bounce in fill light, a set of background stands and a light gray background. When I got to the clinic I went straight to the doctor's office, moved chairs around and set up the portrait stuff. I wanted it ready to go so that we could move in and do the portrait on a few minutes notice. The magic in using one light is in the feathering. If you don't know about feathering do a search. This blog ain't for beginners.
Once the portrait lighting was set I grabbed a camera from the bag and set out to shoot actual patients in procedures. I shot one implant procedure and one wisdom tooth removal. In both instances the patients were sedated via IV's. I dressed in my regulation pressed khaki's, white, button down dress shirt and sensible shoes. I tend to wear a mask just in case. The surgical team largely ignores me. We've worked together before and once they were reasonably certain that I wouldn't faint and hit the floor, or do something dumb like unplug a bp/vo2 monitor during a procedure they tend to just accept my presence with good graces.
Since I've been shooting a lot of video lately my big Domke bag has gone thru some inventory changes. Out are the two Canon 1dmk2n's and in are my two favorite Canon video shooting cameras, the 7D and 60D. And they're both great for this kind of work. Newbies get all excited about needing super high ISO's and fast lenses to shoot under any interior condition that they aren't lighting with flash. Not so necessary. The operating areas are very well and uniformly lit. My basic setting is the half sized RAW file (10 megapixels), AWB, ISO 640, f2.8-f4.0 and a shutter speed range of 1/125th to 1/320. But mostly it's right in the middle at 1/250th. Today I pulled one lens out of the bag and used it all morning long. From clinical shots right thru to the portrait. It was the manual focus Carl Zeiss 50mm 1.4 ZE for Canon. When you use the manual focus lenses with cropped frame cameras that have gushy screens meant to look pretty with auto focus lenses you really have two choices if you want sharp photos. You can use live view (assuming you are comfortably situated on a tripod, which I wasn't) or you can use the center focusing point just like a rangefinder on a Leica.
Here's what I've decided is true about manual focus on cameras without manual focusing screens. To a large extent the focusing screen itself is useless. You need to use the autofocus confirmation lights or lights and beep to know when you've achieved focus. The screen seems to have a native "f-stop" of around 5.6 and it doesn't matter how good your eyes are or how good your diopter adjustment is, the screen itself isn't going to show you in and out of focus in the way a camera would if it's screen were optimized to work in manual focus.
I've tried it a thousand different times. And every time I come back to setting the center sensor as my target sensor and using it with good success. Why put myself thru this when Canon makes a plenty of good, auto focus lenses?
Because, in video it's all different. Smooth focusing matters. You'll be using manual focus anyway and you'll be right back to the same question of how to do manual focus. Also, the Zeiss lenses have really smooth, well damped focusing rings. And I like the neutral color rendition along with the high resolution performance. (Lost on most video footage....).
I shot for several hours, then we did the portraits and I packed up and moved on. Back to the office to download and tweak before putting them up on Smugmug to share with my client. The rest of the afternoon was spent returning calls, writing on a project and editing thru some video footage. Things seem more and more to be getting back to normal in my business but I get the very real feeling that the roiling and thrashing in the ad business is continuing relentlessly. A good friend and winner of hundreds of awards for creative direction and television just lost his job at the big mega-agency. It's hard to understand the map for creative people these days. Every thing changed but the change itself is changing and nothing seems to be working in some areas. I'm happy to have my plate full and my clients happy so I'll keep doing the things that have kept me moving forward as the economy moved backwards.
I have a few observations about the gear. The 60D and 7D bodies are really great to work with. I like them a lot and I like them better, for the most part, than the 5Dmk2. The 5 has nicer files. But feels different. Second observation: If you are of my generation you'll just enjoy the feel of the big, heavy Zeiss lenses on the front of your camera because the feel the way we were taught that lenses should feel. A lot of my perception that the Zeiss lenses are somehow better is doubtless due to the placebo effect. But that doesn't make it any less metaphysically real. Does it?
I went out to Willie Nelson's place west of Austin with Selena to take a few images to promote her band, Rosie and the Ramblers. We didn't use any lights for the images shown here. I'd just bought the two Canon 1Dmk2's and I tossed them in the bag along with the three Zeiss ZE lenses: The 35mm f2, the 50mm 1.4 and the 85mm 1.4. I tried every permutation of available light shooting I could think of and then some. The top image was shot, hand held with the 50mm lens, wide open. Or close to it.
I'd always heard that this lens was "dreamy" and "unsharp" wide open and while I admit that focusing it on one of the cropped frame cameras can be.....challenging I think the center sharpness of this high speed optic is pretty damn good. Another myth in the trash basket.
I heard the same thing about the 85mm 1.4 lens. All of the well known photo test sites sing the same mantra on this lens: "It's soft and dreamy wide open." The shot above was taken, handheld, with that same 85mm 1.4 lens, used at its widest aperture. I think it's pretty wonderful. All fast lenses are designed to be sharp in the middle at wider apertures. Because, that's where we need them to be sharp. If I listened to the pundits I would never have purchased the lens because I would have been told that it's only usable above f4. Pretty crazy if you ask me.
While I rail a lot about the futility and silliness of heavy post processing I recently bought a copy of Topaz Adjust and I've been playing around with all of the filter presets. They are all too heavy handed but I find that I can fade the filter result in PhotoShop and then I like the effects much better. Not sure it's any better than what I could normally do by myself in PhotoShop but it's a lot of fun to experiment with.
Part of my new experiments have to do with microphones for video production. I bought a Sennheiser wireless microphone system and I've had very, very good results so far. In the next week or so I'll write a review about the microphones and transmitters.
I know that dipping my toes into motion might scare off some readers but, c'est la vie. I think the whole market is moving to motion and the sooner we come to grips with stuff that moves around and makes noise the better.
Off to see Michael O'Brien sign some books. Hope you're having a great week.
Get this book of images by Michael O'Brien and Poems by Tom Waits and understand that there's a whole step up in the art of photography beyond us geeks that write blogs and use 50 flashes to show off.
I guess it's easy to lose track of what you got into photography for. We let clients side track us and we let trends corrupt the way we really should be shooting. I'm as guilty as everyone else. But it doesn't feel so bad until someone with a laser focus and a gift for digging in and shooting the hard stuff comes along and rubs our faces in it. Then all of a sudden a book about LED's or a trip around the country flashing the rubes doesn't seem like such an incredible deal. That's not to say that Michael is the type to rub anyone's nose in anything. As far as I can tell the man is a saint.
Michael O'Brien spent four long years meeting the homeless people he photographed (with dignity) for this book. He didn't do it because he was sponsored by an equipment manufacturer. He didn't do it for the money (there rarely is any in art books...). And he didn't do it as a way to claw into "social media" and show off. He did it because no one else was doing it and he felt that these were faces that comfortable people needed to see. We needed to understand a different and pervasive reality outside our limited suburban comfort zones.
He did the book in concert with the singer and poet, Tom Waits. It's out. It's there now. And since UT Press subsidized some of the production you'll be getting a book for $40 that would have cost closer to $70 if produced by one of the bigger, for profit publishers.
I talked to Michael today and he told me he was surprised to find that the final printed work was as good as the original prints he made.
The images were done with a 4x5 view camera and on Polaroid materials. Check this book out and you'll understand why the world still needs photographers who care less about booking the next workshop or shooting trendy slop for a blog that's peppered with affiliate advertising. We need them because they are the "bar." And every time they raise it they make everyone think harder. And hopefully, work better.
About a week and a half ago I posted a blog about photographing actors for an upcoming Zach Scott Theatre play. Here's the link: http://visualsciencelab.blogspot.com/2011/03/cant-get-enough-of-those-crazy-leds.html. I showed you the "behind the scenes" raw images that I shot of each actor. Some were accented from one side and some on the other. They were all shot against white.
I thought it would be fun and instructive (and a good way to procrastinate) to show you how the designer, Rona, put all the photos together for the promotional postcard. The combination is much more powerful that the photos individually. Having a client that does good design work and uses photography well is especially good when they add in two other things: A big bold credit line coupled with distribution to 20,000 carefully selected trend makers in the community.
You'll probably remember that I shot all the images with the antiquated Canon 1dmk2n cameras and a Zeiss 50mm lens. You can see that, given the size this will ultimately be used, that we didn't need any more pixels than what we had and that the workflow was quicker and smoother with the smaller files.
Tonight I'm going over to the theater to photograph the dress rehearsal. It's a long play. Nearly 3 hours. There are two intermissions. There's a lot to shoot. I'm told that the set is pretty cool and I already know the cast is great.
Tonight I'm thinking of shooting a one lens/one camera system. Make it as easy on myself as possible, commensurate with good results....
So I'm leaning toward the Canon 5Dmk2 with the 24-105mm f4 L lens. I'm taking the 7D along as well and if the play is such that I need more reach I'll go with that body instead. For documentation, where expression and timing is more important than ultimate technical quality, I trust both cameras up to 3200 ISO. The reach will be the determiner. Just to hedge my bets I'll stick the 70-200 f4L in the bag, as well. You never know when you might really want to "reach out and touch someone" with your lens..."