Living with My Photography Critic

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Paul Butzi recently wrote about taking pictures when you have no idea why you are tripping the shutter. I hope Paul won’t mind, if I jump on the bandwagon and sing a few verses of “Me, too”.

I still have an enormous amount to learn about photography (it pains me to think how much), but I am getting more and more satisfaction from it. And, that is true partly because I am trusting myself more to differentiate between occasions that are predominately study periods and those that are more about simply doing. Yes, of course those lines are blurred, but from one outing to another—or from one portion of an outing to another, there is shift in emphasis. There are occasions when I am mostly intent on learning a new technique—drilling basics into my thick skull, and sometimes I am just playing scales.

But, if I want to feed the passion, I need to have times when I simply do what I do as best I can at that moment and trust that six weeks from now, a year from now, my skills will have improved. That is, they will improve, if I keep doing this and paying attention to what works as well as what doesn't. I just have to be certain that I am paying that attention after the fact, not using it as a club over my head while I am photographing.

Long ago, I noticed that a great percentage of my photographs that I like best—on those rare and special days that I like any of them—are those that I took while shooting out of my mind. Even in the early stages when I knew almost nothing, a surprising number of the images that showed progress had been taken when something somewhat surprised me, I raised the camera, and clicked the shutter before I had time to think my way through the image.

Now, more and more, I am giving in to the impulse to shoot with abandon. I am learning that what catches my eye—and my heart—is most often a fleeting moment. By the time I think about it, the moment and the magic are gone. The more I study the scene, the more certain the best moments will escape me. If I get bogged down in analyzing, I trip the switch and activate the nasty voice in my head that nags, “That light is never going to work.” “Better look again. Is this framed properly?” “You didn’t check your exposure you are just going to delete this. You’re wasting time.” Some days the voice is particularly insistent. But, I am gradually training the nagger to speak when spoken to, leaving me to place increasing trust in my gradually improving skills and my intuition.

Of course, I’m not merely wandering about drooling and hoping that wonderful things will pop up in front of my camera and that my muse will always whisper “Now” at the ideal moment. I am comfortable inviting my intellect to take charge, or at least participate, if it honestly seems the best way to solve a problem. But, for better or for worse, I go about my photography, at least part of the time, trusting that when I have no clue as to why my shutter finger twitches at a specific instant—much less what is filling the frame, I don’t ask questions. I just let go and enjoy the moments.

After all, that nagging critic in my head represents the part of me that can be paralyzed by the specter of failure. The message behind all that nagging is “Don’t take chances. Work cautiously. Play it safe. Don’t prove you are a loser.”

When I tell the critic to take some time off, I have a grand time and sometimes there is a bonus. I may make more mistakes, but I also make more pictures that I like. Not a bad bargain for trusting myself and following impulses. I wouldn’t recommend it for crossing streets, or choosing life partners. But, I think following impulses can be a swell idea, when you have a camera in your hand.

Old Toys and New Obsessions

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I'm glad that I stirred up some curiosity. But, Earl added an element of urgency by claiming that he was turning blue and passing out from holding his breath. He is a big kidder; still, just in case, I thought it would be better to quickly spill the beans. Besides, I have another shoot scheduled for tomorrow afternoon and some preparations to handle before then. Today, the fog is thicker than the proverbial pea soup. Tomorrow could prove very interesting. I'm sure there will be lessons to be learned.

I hope you didn't have your hopes up for something truly exciting here. I think you know me better. This isn’t really a big deal—just something new to me. First, I have to say that there are a gazillion things wrong with the photos here. They pretty much stink in more ways than I can count. For example, don’t you just love the line cutting through The Husband’s head? And that shadow into his camera right eye. Wow! Charming, no? No. I was thinking only about exposing for that sky and a certain kind of light on his face. It would have been nice if we had had a ladder handy to get his head up in the clouds. The second photo? Another long list that I won't start on. Still, you have to crawl before you can walk, right? Maybe this lighting business is ho-hum old hat stuff to most of you, but there are plenty new challenges in it for me.

The idea of working with more than natural light has been rattling around in the back of my mind for some time. The problem was that it was way back in a well-hidden corner and, mostly, I ignored the rattling. Probably close to two years ago, I bought a 580EX flash. Then maybe a year later, I got the 430EX. I was curious and was certain that, eventually, I would fully explore studio lighting. From time to time, I did play around a bit with both flash units, but the whole notion of using anything other than natural light just never quite took. At one point, I briefly considered selling at least half of my lighting equipment. However, before I could act on that thought, I would always have a flurry of interest that lasted a minute and a half. Long enough to put off selling—not long enough to develop any expertise. What it came down to was I didn’t have that much interest in shooting things that you could bring indoors. Horses and landscapes in the living room? Probably not. Don’t ask why that obvious disconnect didn’t stop me up front. Sometimes, I’m just slow.

Finally, I have gotten a glimmer as why those speedlights have been taking up space and have begun to investigate, with some seriousness, using supplemental light outdoors. It’s not something I have grasped readily, unfortunately. Rather, it has been a major challenge. Still, if you aren’t terribly smart and you lack talent, the next best thing is being stubbornly persistent. I have read I don’t know how many articles online in an attempt to cram some of this information into my brain. Yes, it still feels much like trying to jam a square peg into a round hole, but I know a little more now than when I started. I have photographed the strangest things in our house and burned up more than a couple of AA batteries. But, I am beginning to get a sense of where I want to go with this.

The next steps include a great deal more experimentation outside, because that’s where I really want to work. Moreover, I have to catch The Husband with spare time and in a willing mood. (Tomorrow I have another subject and The Husband is going to be provide me with a voice-activated lightstand.) Getting a handle on this new thing is going to take quite a while and yes, the delay of winter will exasperate. This is a lousy time of year to finally figure out where I want to go next. But, it's comforting to know that I have that stubborn persistence thing on my side. Because, there are images in my head and, by gum, I want to see them on my monitor someday.

Detours and New Directions

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Whew! I’ve been running half-a-dozen different directions most of the time, and then barely functional for a couple of days. Hmm. Not so unusual, come to think of it. As a result, I am behind on most of the things that I like to keep up to date. I haven’t had time to read many of the new posts at the sites of fellow bloggers much less leave comments, and I have sadly neglected my own blog. I have a fistful of new photos that I want to post here, but I don’t yet have them ready. To top it off, I am still recovering from a sick day. Side note for the youngsters out there: When you are retired, “a sick day” means you are just plain sick. It doesn’t mean a day when you are feeling less than your best, or a day taken off to handle errands.

Since most of the diversions in the last week have been pleasant ones, I’ll talk about those and put the others behind me. The first of the month, I did a photo session with two friends and their horses. Even the obstacles presented by a far less than an ideal background and not-so-great lighting didn’t spoil the fun.

Much of the time the last week was been taken up by a new interest. No, I haven’t taken up skateboarding. I don’t know who insists on promoting that rumor, and my “Sweet Home Alabama” experience most certainly did not convince me to sign up for Dancing With the Stars”. It’s all about photography, and you will hear more about it in the days to come. Believe me, you will probably hear more than you want to, since I am quite immersed in this. Isn’t that mean to leave you hanging? Remember, at my age, and with my humdrum existence, one does what one can to muster an air of mystery and excitement.

A Little More Light in My Digital Darkroom

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My computer handles CS3 fairly well, but it’s over three years old, so, of course, that means in computer years it’s a relic. That’s one of the reasons I had put off exploring working at 16 bits. I suspected that working with the larger files would only create more headaches than it was worth. But then, I read an article, or saw a tutorial (I no longer remember the source) that mentioned the increased elasticity of a 16 bit RAW file, and I was in a mood to experiment.

I know I have a tendency to be suggestible when I read or listen to experts, so I could be kidding myself. But, I am hooked. While it's true that working on a file that size chews up the memory at warp speed; I was surprised at how much more I could wring out of the material. When I used the approach for some photos I took using ISO 2000, I was grateful to have access to more depth and to be able work with pixels that were just a little more supple. The photo above appealed to me because of the story. Lancer was dealing with abandonment issues—Night had been taken out for a ride—and the herd next door must have looked appealing to our lonely gelding.

While I will continue to work predominately with 8 bit files, I now feel comfortable turning to the memory-hogging 16 bits when an image needs some extra TLC.

Another Side of Lower Valley Trail

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Another way of seeing sights along the Lower Valley Trail. Just to keep you guessing.

A Computer Feeling Unloved

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My computer screen hasn’t felt much love in the last week. My recent relationship with the computer has consisted mostly of setting up files to copy or move and leaving the room to handle other chores. Then there was the maintenance business a few days ago, opening the case, cleaning out the dust bunnies, and installing memory. I guess that is a sort of love being shown, but not much looking at the monitor.

As if that weren’t enough time away from my desk, there was a rash of errand-running lately. I have mentioned before that a trip to the supermarket—even if you only grabbed a dozen eggs)—chews up over an hour. Naturally, neither of us ever makes the trip for just a dozen eggs.

Just ten days ago, we drove to Bakersfield (that’s two hours round trip); on Wednesday the cupboard was pretty bare, so that meant Tehachapi (over an hour); then yesterday was an LA day. That’s a biggie. At least, for us. Under the best of conditions, it is a four-hour round trip. If you have the misfortune of hitting peak traffic hours or you encounter an accident or car breakdown, it is more like a five-and-a-half to six-and-a-half hour jaunt. Fortunately, we get to set our hours when we are simply errand-running and avoid the worst of the mess. Keep in mind that morning rush hour in LA starts about 6:30 AM and lasts until 10:00 AM. Evening rush hour chews up 3:00 PM until 7:30 PM. Obviously, we invariably catch a portion of the travel at risk of your sanity periods.

Still, we accomplished quite a bit yesterday and, of course, the best part of the trip is always lunch at Viva. In some ways, it’s like dropping by Mom’s on your way somewhere for a quick meal. You know she will be there and you can depend on good vittles. Moreover, there is no need for formalities. Especially if the restaurant is a little slow—and it often is as early as we arrive (usually around a quarter of twelve). On those occasions, the hostess often simply greets us and hands us a couple of menus inviting us to seat ourselves. We head to the back room to pick our own table. On the way back, we say “hello” to the waiters who have been there, in some cases, for close to thirty years.

Yesterday the food was typically delicious and the back room was pleasantly quiet. However, if you should happen to drop in on a Saturday night, don’t have your heart set on a tranquil meal. The margaritas are large, sufficiently potent, and the atmosphere is often raucous.

Weekend evenings are usually noisy because of the riders from Sunset Ranch, a rental stable, located in the basin (the ocean side of Los Angeles). Angelenos, who are feeling adventurous, can sign up for the Friday or Saturday night horseback ride across the eastern end of the Santa Monica Mountains and Griffith State Park, have dinner at Viva in the San Fernando Valley, then ride back to the stables. As you might imagine, most of the riders are greenhorns and by the time they get to Viva, they are exhausted, sore, and often relieved to still be alive. Celebrations are usually in order. Too many margaritas are consumed and the place gets lively. Let’s sum things up by saying that, on more than one occasion, cabs are called, and some of the horses make the trip back across the foothills riderless.

Yesterday, most of the tables were sans margaritas and our lunch was peaceful. As always—along with the beans and chips, there are the memories of so many other meals. Peaceful ones, noisy ones, joyful events and sorrowful ones.

Tackling the Piles

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For much too long, I was verrrrry bad and let chores pile up. Sooner or later, one has to face up to those piles and dispense with at least a portion of them. It doesn’t matter how much you dread it. You can only postpone things so long.

Some of the catch-up work centered around file storage. I set up a couple of new hard drives that had languished in the cabinet a while and continued moving files for better organization. What tedious work.

I also installed more memory in my computer. Truth: I assisted (mostly with prep and clean up). The Husband installed. You can only imagine how chicken I am when it comes to poking around inside a computer. If I planned to do much of this sort of thing, I would dig up an old machine, then take it apart—wreck it most probably, get another and work until I could break one down and successfully put it together again. Unfortunately, I can’t work up the enthusiasm for the project. There are too many other things I want to explore that are higher priority for me.

I enjoyed very much the responses to my query on a backup scheme and have decided to follow through with that plan. I posed a couple more questions in my responses to the comments on that post, and I expect to be tweaking this strategy over time.

I’ve also spent time recently on some test shooting and checking a couple of locations in preparation for a shoot some time in the next couple of weeks. For one of the test sessions, I was at the BVS Equestrian Center and got distracted by the trees there. Let’s face it. I am frequently distracted by trees.

Finding an ideal location for pictures of horses with riders hasn’t turned out to be as easy as I had hoped it would be. There are number of reasons for that statement, but I won’t open that can of worms today. Those chores are piling up again.

Backup Scheme

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I have a plan for file backup and I thought I would publish it here. My motivation is that I would like to see if everyone in the group says, “Whoa there. You are about to make a monumental mistake because….”

So here goes. I want at least two copies of everything. (My natural scaredy cat nature is to have three or four copies, but I just can’t deal with it. So, two it will be.) Favorites, Classics, whatever I am calling them at the moment pulled from each year will rate three of four copies, including a spot on the C drive. The first copy of everything will be processed then moved off to a desktop external drive. For the second copy or backup, I am going to experiment with those small, portable drives, such as Western Digital’s Passport.

Why the small portable drives, you ask? Space for one thing. Too much of my desk top is already devoted to the book-type hard disks. On the other hand, the possibility of storing those drives in another room doesn’t appeal to me either, because I hate crawling around under the desk plugging in the power sources and rigging the things up to the computer. I have had a Passport for a couple of years and have found it handy and reliable. It takes up little space, and all I have to do is plug it into a USB port and ta dah! I’m ready to go.

For the moment at least, it looks like a practical plan. Of course, one drawback is the cost. The price per gigabyte of storage space is lower with the larger drives, but I’m thinking that storage space and convenience of set up may win out. By the way, I also believe that the little portable drives are slower. That means that I wouldn’t want to use them any more than necessary.

Please wave me off if you know something I haven’t brought up. Otherwise, I’m headed to Best Buy next week to pick up a couple of those little guys and jump into this experiment.

Sweet Home Alabama

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As the largest city in the U.S., you can imagine how many radio stations there are in that massive and diverse market. Bakersfield (the nearest city of any size in our area) has, I think, a grand total of four stations. Furthermore, up here in the mountains, we get only one.

I usually have the radio on in the afternoons, since I’m not much of a TV watcher. A big part of the listening on KNZR includes the bumper music that both of the local talk show guys play. The three o’clock host is all about Frank Sinatra. Once in a while, he will throw in a little Tony Bennett, but mostly it’s “Old Blue Eyes”. The one o’clock guy, on the other hand, has a real weak spot for Merle Haggard. Yes, that’s a pretty big leap. Still, they are both all right with me. I’m rarely fully focused on the music, and I don’t mind either choice. I enjoy both of them.

This afternoon was a different story. The one o’clock guy did three hours that was all about Lynyrd Skynyrd. Now, I’m the first to admit that my pop musical tastes are not the most hip. I can take rap for about thirty seconds and never even got as far as acid rock, or heavy metal much less the stuff that came after that. I know it makes me a country bumpkin to admit that I’m not a super big fan of jazz. But, classic country rock. Yeah, that’s good music.

I was doing great—getting some work done while those southern boys were wailing away in the background. I was enjoying something different in the early afternoon, then I ended up in the kitchen doing some baking and some cleanup when “Sweet Home Alabama” came up in the host’s roster.

First, a disclaimer: Let's just say I never turned heads on the dance floor. But, since my first broken hip, I really don’t dance at all. Long ago, I made my peace with not having much talent in that department, so that isn’t the problem. But, once I was fully ambulatory again, I always ended up hurting my back every time I tried dancing. Pain is a great motivator. I gave up what passed for dancing in my case.

Yet, I have been known to make exceptions. Now, I could claim I was a victim of circumstance in this case, but I won’t make excuses. There I was, alone in the kitchen. The guitar riff at the opening of “Sweet Home Alabama” began; I was on my feet; and, well, one thing led to another. I may have still had a dish towel in my hand when I began making a fool of myself. My head was saying, “Stop”. My feet were saying, “Go.” I mean it was Lynyrd Skynyrd!

So, my back will hurt tonight. Right now, I think it will be worth it. Ask me about it tomorrow.

P.S. Fair warning: This posting twice a day thing is a bad precedent and not apt to be repeated often.

More from Lower Valley Trail

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I didn't have time for much of a walk yesterday, after all. Good intentions and all that. I got sidetracked setting up yet another external hard drive, so I can eventually have more working space without spending the tedious hours combing through old folders and deciding between file number xxx8 and xxx9. The photo above was taken a couple of days ago during that long walk bathed in lovely light.

Yesterday, I was on the way out for at least a short trek down Lower Valley when I saw both horses at full attention, staring intently toward Cub Lake. Peering more closely, I spotted the cloud of dust and eventually saw half a dozen girls out for a rather raucous ride. They were cantering, laughing, and shouting at one another—having a grand time. Lancer and Night joined in the excitement, so that meant, of course, that I couldn't possibly head out for a walk. Besides, I didn't particularly want to be in path of "The Wild Bunch". Not that I would have been in danger, but I would have eaten a good deal of dust. The trail certainly wouldn't have been my typical quiet, refuge.

No big loss. There are worse ways to spend my walk then ambling around the property near the house, watching the horses do something other than their customary munching, checking on the birch trees, and just soaking up the comfort of feeling more and more at home in Bear Valley Springs.