[and the aperture yawning and blinking]
Unrelated to the rest of this post, I am pretty sure that nothing will make me laugh harder today than this post from MJD at the Dagger. On the upside, all that coffee out my nose really cleared my sinuses.
So it's April. We're a quarter of the way into my take-at-least-one-photo-every-day year of month-long projects, I've had Six, my beloved Nikon D60 for more than four months, all I think about these days is photography, baseball, and sleeping, so let's do a What The Hell I've Learned In The Last Three (But Really Four And Change) Months. Since I don't have anything else to talk about, apparently, given that I haven't posted anything substantial in a week and a half.
A little about my year of month-long projects: I've had fun doing them, in their own ways, and I've committed and I'm excited about a few of the upcoming months and I'm sticking to it, but I'm finding that it's not as challenging as I had wanted it to be. Partially that's the subject material I've picked -- letters were harder but less interesting than I had hoped, sometimes I take cheap easy shots of doors or windows instead of pushing myself -- and partially it's just because ... I don't know. I don't regret doing this, but I'm not finding it as satisfying as I'd hoped. There's other shooting I've done this year that's been more satisfying and interesting and difficult. I'll change how I do a year-long project or sets of projects next year.
I am not a great photographer; I am a reasonably decent photographer who's learning. There's a ton of technical stuff I still don't know. I'd love to know more about lighting techniques. I want a good mid-range high-end zoom lens (18-105 or 28-105 would be perfect). I hold my camera funny and lose a ton of shots to camera shake. But I've busted my ass in the last 18 months to get better, and I am getting better. And I want to talk about why, a little (or, actually, a lot), and what I've learned that has helped me.
This is advice that works for me; these are the things I've learned. They may not be for you. Some of them might help you; some of them might not. To each their own, yes? Yes.
CAMERA GOES EVERYWHERE. Even if it's just the point and click. Ever.Y.Where. The only two times I have left the house without any camera this year were once in the CH, where I missed two amazing vanity plates and a hipster playing a harmonica in the library parking lot because I didn't have my camera, and once in Chattanooga, where I missed some fantastic vintage signs. I regret both of those. I don't leave the house without a camera -- but at the same time, I also don't always take the pictures, either. Have the camera in case you want it, but know when to keep it in your pocket, too. Frame in your mind, think about how you'd take the shot, and then don't take it. Some of the best shots I've ever seen have been shots I didn't take. They live in my head. And that's okay, too.
Learn how to use your camera. Two defining moments of technical learning for me this year. The first was when quicknow explained the rule of sunny 16 to me -- rules for shooting outside in sunshine -- and the time I noticed, with my transluscent lens back cap on the 50mm lens, that I could adjust the aperture ring on the lens and actually see the aperture change. The visual of smaller number, larger lens opening vs. bigger number, smaller lens opening (so smaller number, more light; bigger number, less light) was a huge eye-opener for me. Understanding how cameras work has been a huge thing for me this year. I don't think you can underestimate technical knowledge -- your digital camera is probably smarter than you, but I think you still have to know some why it's smarter than you. You can shoot without understanding that stuff -- but I started shooting better when I did understand it. The why of cameras don't make good photographs, but sometimes they make good photographs possible. Even with point and clicks -- know what all your settings are for, when to use them, how much manual control you can have over anything. For new dSLR users (or people whose point and clicks let them control shutter speed and ISO and aperture), I recommend the Pioneer Woman's Guide To Exposure if you want to learn more about aperture, ISO, shutter speed, and how they interact.
Look at photos. Look at a lot of photos. Look at other people's photos, look at your own photos. Look at more of other people's photos but don't discount how educational going back and looking at your own photos can be. I can look at shots from November and December and see how I could correct problems now, just because I know more. And I can look at the shots I got right and identify what's good about them, and how I did it. Look at all the photos in the world ever. One of the best things I've done this year is install a Greasemonkey script that displays EXIF data as a mouseover on Flickr photo pages, so that I can easily see basic settings for photos I like -- and when something goes wrong in one of my shots, I look for shots by other people in similar lighting, shots that worked, and see what settings they had, and learn from that. (Other Greasemonkey Flickr scripts that I use are here.)
Figure out what you want to shoot. I take pictures of concerts. I take pictures of baseball. I take pictures of people's feet and hands, and crumbling brickwork, and rural decay and windows and flowers and farmer's markets and the beach and my cats and vanity license plates and the stuff I eat. Sometimes I wish I lived in a bigger urban area because I'm fascinated by street photography, but the CH isn't very good for that kind of photography. I'm not particularly into nature or landscape photography in general, but I love nature macros. I like bright bright colors and odd framing. Why bother taking photos of things you aren't into? If you love your subject material, if you're fascinated by it, it shows in your pictures. Go out and shoot to learn how to use your camera -- but shoot things you love. Shoot what you're into. Shooting things that don't interest you makes for bland, boring photography. Everything I shoot isn't art -- but it's all something I love.
Shoot the same subjects over and over and over again. The reason for this, for me at least, is two-fold.1. Practice makes perfect, especially when you're shooting human subjects. I've shot oh, say, four or five different bands more than half a dozen times each in the last year. I know them. I know how they move. I know how to compensate for the light in the venues they play the most often. (The Pour House: complain to Jack when the light is too red. The Blind Tiger: ISO up, f-stop down, shutter as slow as I can stand, and pray. The Lincoln: try not to drink too much Jack Daniels in the bathroom.) I know some bands like the backs of my own hands, and I shoot them better because of it.
2. Shooting the same subjects repeatedly forces you to look outside of the box. It makes you look for new angles, or things you've missed, or a different quality of light. Besides seeing the same bands a million times and sitting in the same seats at baseball games every weekend, I also stomp the same, oh, say, one mile square area of Chapel Hill during the work week. I have to think differently if I want to take new shots at lunchtime. I have to look for the things I've missed. And I'm always finding things I missed, because I'm looking for them.
Better glass matters. I still slap my kit lens on once in a while, when I want a wider angle than the 50mm will allow me in situations where I can't just back up, but mostly I rarely use it anymore. It's a fine learning lens, and it's great for outdoor stuff where I don't care about depth of field, but primarily I shoot with my 50mm/f1.8 and my 70-210mm/f4 these days. As soon as I can afford a Tamron 12-24mm, I'll ditch the kit lens for good. If you want to take better photos, you need better lenses. Photography is an expensive hobby. And I don't at all regret any of the money I've spent on it this year. The 50mm lens is still the best thing I've bought this year, and that includes the 120GB iPod.
Edit, edit, edit. I don't just mean post-processing, although I do a lot more of that now than I used to, as well. I crop more, I adjust exposure and contrast. Nearly all of my baseball photos save the first two sets from this year have been adjusted so that the contrast and the saturation are really high -- makes the colors pop more, and with bright jerseys and all the green (grass) and blue (sky) outside on sunny days, it makes the photos better.
But what I mean is edit down what you keep, and edit what you post to Flickr or wherever. On average, at a concert, I'll take, say, 250 shots. Of the 250 I take, I keep about 75-125 of them, depending on who I was shooting, where I was shooting, how the light was. Some of the ones I keep, I keep them for me -- not because they're great shots but because there's something about them (a shot of a particular person, say, or a still life-esque shot that really captures something I love) that appeals to me. But I keep between 30% and 50% of what I take. And of those 75 that I keep, I post between 30 and 50 shots. Learning to shoot less, and then keep less, has been a big lesson for me.
Basically: don't post 300 photos that you pulled straight off your camera. Take your time after you've been out shooting. Consider the best shots. If you have four similar shots, look at them. Compare them. Figure out what works and what doesn't in each of them, and post the single shot that's the best one. Because I'll look at 30 photos from a photo walk, but damn if I'm going to look at 300. No offense.
Look at your mistakes. Sometimes I spend more time with the bad shots than the good ones. Is it a technical problem? If it is, what went wrong? (I focused the depth of field wrong. I compensated f-stop and shutter the wrong way for stadium lights. I didn't brace the camera. I drank one too many Long Islands at the Pour House on a Saturday night.) How can I fix it? (Meter better. Note the settings that failed and adjust them the next time. Steady myself against a wall or a stage edge or that irritating poke-y bolt on the Blind Tiger stage. Stop after two Long Islands.) If it isn't technical, what don't I like about the framing, or the depth of field, or the color? Can I fix those things, if I don't like them? (Either in post-processing, or framing better beforehand, or adjusting my f-stop/shutter to allow myself a deeper or shallower focus depth.) Why is this a bad photo, and how can I make it better? Good photos are good photos, and it's good to know why they're good, too. But I learn more from my fuck-ups than I do from getting something right -- getting something right is often luck; getting something wrong is usually something I screwed up.
Sometimes you just suck. End of story. There are nights when you can't get anything right, and you just have to roll with that. I sucked really, really hard at Greene Street last Friday -- of the 400 photos I took, I only kept 82, and a lot of those were questionable keepers. If you have a night where you suck and you end up with only two good photographs, sometimes you just have to go, okay, so that's that, let's suck less next time out, self. And then try to suck less.
Ask questions. I ask quicknow 14,000 stupid questions about photography, and she very patiently answers all of them. If you can't figure something out, ask about it. Ask me. Ask another photographer you know. Ask the internet. There's definitely stupid questions out there, but don't be afraid to ask them.
Ask permission, and take risks. Stand on a chair. (Try not to fall on anybody's head while you're up there. Not that I have any experience almost falling on guitar players or anything.) Lie flat on your stomach and shoot up. Go out in the rain with a plastic bag on your camera. Shoot in every available light. Push to alter your normal perception of the world. And if you want to shoot something but you need permission or agreement, just ask. Don't be afraid to push yourself by saying "I want" or "I would like to". Asking gets you places. Asking for feedback gets you places, even when it hurts to hear it. Asking for permission to shoot portraits, or candids somewhere, or architecture in places that photography isn't usually allowed -- all it gets you is a no, and sometimes it gets you a yes. No means you start over and ask again somewhere else, or under different circumstances. Yes gets you chances, and opportunities, and introductions. No is a learning experience, and Yes is amazing.
Film is amazing. I miss film, a lot of the time. There's effects you can get on film that I can't replicate with Six, and the process of loading and handling film is so much more tactile than shooting digital. I am a better photographer now because I shot film for a whole year, and I learned a shitload shooting film, even if I learned a lot of it retroactively. Film is unforgiving and expensive, but it can teach you a hell of a lot. (But you know what I don't miss? Processing costs. I never minded paying for film, but processing costs are a fucking bitch. I want to take some film classes this year so I can learn to develop. When I have a house, I will have a B&W darkroom in the basement.) Don't dismiss the good habits and knowledge that film can help you develop, just because it's outdated.
If you have a dSLR and I see you using the on-camera flash for no reason other than you don't know how to use your camera to shoot in low-light, I am going to stuff your camera so far up your ass. That one stands for itself. Unless you're the mom of a band member, in which case I cut you a little more slack, because that's your baby up there on stage.
Anything in my photography bookmarks on delicious is something I thought was useful, in some way -- although there's a lot of stuff in there that's just there because I want to buy it later -- but I really love Advice To Young Photographers: Wear Good Shoes. Pros telling you the most important things to know, in their opinions. It's good. If you don't want to read all of it -- and if you want to take photos, I think you should, but if you don't, the best advice in it is this:If you are bored or unhappy with your subject it will show up in the pictures. If in your heart of hearts you want to take pictures of kitties, take pictures of kitties. -- Alec Soth
The stuff I've loved best of mine so far this year is in this set. Want to know why I think it's good, or why I love it even if it's not a great photo? Ask. I'll tell you.
Dude, that was epic. Sorry.
So it's April. We're a quarter of the way into my take-at-least-one-photo-every-day year of month-long projects, I've had Six, my beloved Nikon D60 for more than four months, all I think about these days is photography, baseball, and sleeping, so let's do a What The Hell I've Learned In The Last Three (But Really Four And Change) Months. Since I don't have anything else to talk about, apparently, given that I haven't posted anything substantial in a week and a half.
A little about my year of month-long projects: I've had fun doing them, in their own ways, and I've committed and I'm excited about a few of the upcoming months and I'm sticking to it, but I'm finding that it's not as challenging as I had wanted it to be. Partially that's the subject material I've picked -- letters were harder but less interesting than I had hoped, sometimes I take cheap easy shots of doors or windows instead of pushing myself -- and partially it's just because ... I don't know. I don't regret doing this, but I'm not finding it as satisfying as I'd hoped. There's other shooting I've done this year that's been more satisfying and interesting and difficult. I'll change how I do a year-long project or sets of projects next year.
I am not a great photographer; I am a reasonably decent photographer who's learning. There's a ton of technical stuff I still don't know. I'd love to know more about lighting techniques. I want a good mid-range high-end zoom lens (18-105 or 28-105 would be perfect). I hold my camera funny and lose a ton of shots to camera shake. But I've busted my ass in the last 18 months to get better, and I am getting better. And I want to talk about why, a little (or, actually, a lot), and what I've learned that has helped me.
This is advice that works for me; these are the things I've learned. They may not be for you. Some of them might help you; some of them might not. To each their own, yes? Yes.
CAMERA GOES EVERYWHERE. Even if it's just the point and click. Ever.Y.Where. The only two times I have left the house without any camera this year were once in the CH, where I missed two amazing vanity plates and a hipster playing a harmonica in the library parking lot because I didn't have my camera, and once in Chattanooga, where I missed some fantastic vintage signs. I regret both of those. I don't leave the house without a camera -- but at the same time, I also don't always take the pictures, either. Have the camera in case you want it, but know when to keep it in your pocket, too. Frame in your mind, think about how you'd take the shot, and then don't take it. Some of the best shots I've ever seen have been shots I didn't take. They live in my head. And that's okay, too.
Learn how to use your camera. Two defining moments of technical learning for me this year. The first was when quicknow explained the rule of sunny 16 to me -- rules for shooting outside in sunshine -- and the time I noticed, with my transluscent lens back cap on the 50mm lens, that I could adjust the aperture ring on the lens and actually see the aperture change. The visual of smaller number, larger lens opening vs. bigger number, smaller lens opening (so smaller number, more light; bigger number, less light) was a huge eye-opener for me. Understanding how cameras work has been a huge thing for me this year. I don't think you can underestimate technical knowledge -- your digital camera is probably smarter than you, but I think you still have to know some why it's smarter than you. You can shoot without understanding that stuff -- but I started shooting better when I did understand it. The why of cameras don't make good photographs, but sometimes they make good photographs possible. Even with point and clicks -- know what all your settings are for, when to use them, how much manual control you can have over anything. For new dSLR users (or people whose point and clicks let them control shutter speed and ISO and aperture), I recommend the Pioneer Woman's Guide To Exposure if you want to learn more about aperture, ISO, shutter speed, and how they interact.
Look at photos. Look at a lot of photos. Look at other people's photos, look at your own photos. Look at more of other people's photos but don't discount how educational going back and looking at your own photos can be. I can look at shots from November and December and see how I could correct problems now, just because I know more. And I can look at the shots I got right and identify what's good about them, and how I did it. Look at all the photos in the world ever. One of the best things I've done this year is install a Greasemonkey script that displays EXIF data as a mouseover on Flickr photo pages, so that I can easily see basic settings for photos I like -- and when something goes wrong in one of my shots, I look for shots by other people in similar lighting, shots that worked, and see what settings they had, and learn from that. (Other Greasemonkey Flickr scripts that I use are here.)
Figure out what you want to shoot. I take pictures of concerts. I take pictures of baseball. I take pictures of people's feet and hands, and crumbling brickwork, and rural decay and windows and flowers and farmer's markets and the beach and my cats and vanity license plates and the stuff I eat. Sometimes I wish I lived in a bigger urban area because I'm fascinated by street photography, but the CH isn't very good for that kind of photography. I'm not particularly into nature or landscape photography in general, but I love nature macros. I like bright bright colors and odd framing. Why bother taking photos of things you aren't into? If you love your subject material, if you're fascinated by it, it shows in your pictures. Go out and shoot to learn how to use your camera -- but shoot things you love. Shoot what you're into. Shooting things that don't interest you makes for bland, boring photography. Everything I shoot isn't art -- but it's all something I love.
Shoot the same subjects over and over and over again. The reason for this, for me at least, is two-fold.1. Practice makes perfect, especially when you're shooting human subjects. I've shot oh, say, four or five different bands more than half a dozen times each in the last year. I know them. I know how they move. I know how to compensate for the light in the venues they play the most often. (The Pour House: complain to Jack when the light is too red. The Blind Tiger: ISO up, f-stop down, shutter as slow as I can stand, and pray. The Lincoln: try not to drink too much Jack Daniels in the bathroom.) I know some bands like the backs of my own hands, and I shoot them better because of it.
2. Shooting the same subjects repeatedly forces you to look outside of the box. It makes you look for new angles, or things you've missed, or a different quality of light. Besides seeing the same bands a million times and sitting in the same seats at baseball games every weekend, I also stomp the same, oh, say, one mile square area of Chapel Hill during the work week. I have to think differently if I want to take new shots at lunchtime. I have to look for the things I've missed. And I'm always finding things I missed, because I'm looking for them.
Better glass matters. I still slap my kit lens on once in a while, when I want a wider angle than the 50mm will allow me in situations where I can't just back up, but mostly I rarely use it anymore. It's a fine learning lens, and it's great for outdoor stuff where I don't care about depth of field, but primarily I shoot with my 50mm/f1.8 and my 70-210mm/f4 these days. As soon as I can afford a Tamron 12-24mm, I'll ditch the kit lens for good. If you want to take better photos, you need better lenses. Photography is an expensive hobby. And I don't at all regret any of the money I've spent on it this year. The 50mm lens is still the best thing I've bought this year, and that includes the 120GB iPod.
Edit, edit, edit. I don't just mean post-processing, although I do a lot more of that now than I used to, as well. I crop more, I adjust exposure and contrast. Nearly all of my baseball photos save the first two sets from this year have been adjusted so that the contrast and the saturation are really high -- makes the colors pop more, and with bright jerseys and all the green (grass) and blue (sky) outside on sunny days, it makes the photos better.
But what I mean is edit down what you keep, and edit what you post to Flickr or wherever. On average, at a concert, I'll take, say, 250 shots. Of the 250 I take, I keep about 75-125 of them, depending on who I was shooting, where I was shooting, how the light was. Some of the ones I keep, I keep them for me -- not because they're great shots but because there's something about them (a shot of a particular person, say, or a still life-esque shot that really captures something I love) that appeals to me. But I keep between 30% and 50% of what I take. And of those 75 that I keep, I post between 30 and 50 shots. Learning to shoot less, and then keep less, has been a big lesson for me.
Basically: don't post 300 photos that you pulled straight off your camera. Take your time after you've been out shooting. Consider the best shots. If you have four similar shots, look at them. Compare them. Figure out what works and what doesn't in each of them, and post the single shot that's the best one. Because I'll look at 30 photos from a photo walk, but damn if I'm going to look at 300. No offense.
Look at your mistakes. Sometimes I spend more time with the bad shots than the good ones. Is it a technical problem? If it is, what went wrong? (I focused the depth of field wrong. I compensated f-stop and shutter the wrong way for stadium lights. I didn't brace the camera. I drank one too many Long Islands at the Pour House on a Saturday night.) How can I fix it? (Meter better. Note the settings that failed and adjust them the next time. Steady myself against a wall or a stage edge or that irritating poke-y bolt on the Blind Tiger stage. Stop after two Long Islands.) If it isn't technical, what don't I like about the framing, or the depth of field, or the color? Can I fix those things, if I don't like them? (Either in post-processing, or framing better beforehand, or adjusting my f-stop/shutter to allow myself a deeper or shallower focus depth.) Why is this a bad photo, and how can I make it better? Good photos are good photos, and it's good to know why they're good, too. But I learn more from my fuck-ups than I do from getting something right -- getting something right is often luck; getting something wrong is usually something I screwed up.
Sometimes you just suck. End of story. There are nights when you can't get anything right, and you just have to roll with that. I sucked really, really hard at Greene Street last Friday -- of the 400 photos I took, I only kept 82, and a lot of those were questionable keepers. If you have a night where you suck and you end up with only two good photographs, sometimes you just have to go, okay, so that's that, let's suck less next time out, self. And then try to suck less.
Ask questions. I ask quicknow 14,000 stupid questions about photography, and she very patiently answers all of them. If you can't figure something out, ask about it. Ask me. Ask another photographer you know. Ask the internet. There's definitely stupid questions out there, but don't be afraid to ask them.
Ask permission, and take risks. Stand on a chair. (Try not to fall on anybody's head while you're up there. Not that I have any experience almost falling on guitar players or anything.) Lie flat on your stomach and shoot up. Go out in the rain with a plastic bag on your camera. Shoot in every available light. Push to alter your normal perception of the world. And if you want to shoot something but you need permission or agreement, just ask. Don't be afraid to push yourself by saying "I want" or "I would like to". Asking gets you places. Asking for feedback gets you places, even when it hurts to hear it. Asking for permission to shoot portraits, or candids somewhere, or architecture in places that photography isn't usually allowed -- all it gets you is a no, and sometimes it gets you a yes. No means you start over and ask again somewhere else, or under different circumstances. Yes gets you chances, and opportunities, and introductions. No is a learning experience, and Yes is amazing.
Film is amazing. I miss film, a lot of the time. There's effects you can get on film that I can't replicate with Six, and the process of loading and handling film is so much more tactile than shooting digital. I am a better photographer now because I shot film for a whole year, and I learned a shitload shooting film, even if I learned a lot of it retroactively. Film is unforgiving and expensive, but it can teach you a hell of a lot. (But you know what I don't miss? Processing costs. I never minded paying for film, but processing costs are a fucking bitch. I want to take some film classes this year so I can learn to develop. When I have a house, I will have a B&W darkroom in the basement.) Don't dismiss the good habits and knowledge that film can help you develop, just because it's outdated.
If you have a dSLR and I see you using the on-camera flash for no reason other than you don't know how to use your camera to shoot in low-light, I am going to stuff your camera so far up your ass. That one stands for itself. Unless you're the mom of a band member, in which case I cut you a little more slack, because that's your baby up there on stage.
Anything in my photography bookmarks on delicious is something I thought was useful, in some way -- although there's a lot of stuff in there that's just there because I want to buy it later -- but I really love Advice To Young Photographers: Wear Good Shoes. Pros telling you the most important things to know, in their opinions. It's good. If you don't want to read all of it -- and if you want to take photos, I think you should, but if you don't, the best advice in it is this:If you are bored or unhappy with your subject it will show up in the pictures. If in your heart of hearts you want to take pictures of kitties, take pictures of kitties. -- Alec Soth
The stuff I've loved best of mine so far this year is in this set. Want to know why I think it's good, or why I love it even if it's not a great photo? Ask. I'll tell you.
Dude, that was epic. Sorry.