365/29 Nel mezzo del cammin di nostravita

"Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi retrovai per una selva oscura,
che la diritta via era smarrita."

(In the middle of the journey of our life
I found myself in a dark wood,
for the straight way was lost.)

Dante's Inferno

I've always liked the idea of writing on skin. I believe it stems from my interest in tattoos and the variety of designs that can be etched into permanency just beneath the surface. A black sharpie and a steady hand are all that's needed to have some fun with the camera.

I think that's one of the most important parts of this 365 process. Having fun with it, that is. There's a certain quality to thinking outside of the box when coming up with one new photographic idea after another. It's complete and utter terror mixed with uncertainty, doubt, annoyance ... and a dash of relief when the idea works out. One more day, one less photo to have to worry about.

Sometimes you come up with an idea like this one. It starts out as something completely different. I wanted to take photos of some business cards splayed out in my hand. Something you'd see with a deck of cards and a magician, but representing something about me. I played with that idea for half an hour last night trying to make it work before ever clicking the shutter. Never did take that photo. I wasn't very fond of the way the cards flared out under my fingertips. It just didn't work.

But, this got me thinking. What if the subject just needed to by my hand? What could I do with that? When I was shooting in the studio on a regular basis, I had a habit of photographing my left hand to quickly gauge how close I was to a reasonable exposure with our studio equipment. I must have a few dozen of these photos now. All well lit, showing off my life and love lines.

I'd recently looked at a photo of someone's open palm, almost shoved into the lens of the camera. This well-worn hand was covered in ink and letter, all describing the owner with a mottled cloud of words, tagging in black. I wanted to do something like this, but with some coherent thought.

In this case, it was a quote from Dante's Inferno in the original Italian. It's something that's always struck a chord with me.

I like it how it turned out. The black certainly worked well.

365/12 The world tends towards chaos

“It turns out that an eerie type of chaos can lurk just behind a facade of order - and yet, deep inside the chaos lurks an even eerier type of order”

Douglas Hostadter

I was talking to a good friend this evening and the topic of a mindset that comes about from the act of creation. A zen-like quality. As she put it, "doing anything intricate that requires attention to detail but not really too much 'thinking'." For her, it's painting and drawing. For me, it's photography on the artistic side and problem solving/programming on the nerd side.

Some people see it as an insanity, focusing so much on a single affair, so focused that your senses are unable to perceive anything but what's infront of you. It's creativity. Taking the chaos and forming it, sometimes into more chaos, sometimes into order.

Like this building. You look at it and see trash in a corner, open walls, dirt and rock. These things are arranged with no apparent rhyme or reason. Yet, I look at this and I see bits and pieces coming together and taking shape. That scrap might be the remains of a wall that was just put up. That trash might be the leftover bits that form a room, a place for people to meet and stir up their own chaos within.

I've watched this building go up, floor by floor, wall by wall. They put the roof on recently. Terra cotta tile. There's quite a bit of detail to photograph in the construction process. I've walked past this point quite a few times in the past weeks. What kept drawing me back to this image was the regularity of the lines.

Repetition.

An order in the chaos.

365/11 Weekend at Bernie's

[after Bernie's body flies over the balcony, looking like a high diver]

"I give it an 8.3!"

Weekend at Bernie's

Classes have not yet started on campus again, but students are slowly filtering back into the daily grind. I crossed paths with a few who were doing an evening job through the east mall. Walking about this evening, I came upon one of the building signs; this one was for BRB, otherwise known as the Bernard and Audre Rapaport Building. I'm not exactly sure what gets taught in here. History, I think. Maybe political science. I don't think I've ever been inside that building.

The sign was lit by the lamp post a few feet away. I don't really know what it was about the light that caught my eye. I got about 10 feet beyond it, stopped in mid-stride, and had to come back for a second look.

The shadow, I think. It was just right, the way the typography was embossed a bit by it. Or drop-shadowed. Whichever you want to call it. Whatever it was, the light and shadow mixed in this good-humored way that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Eleven days into this project and I'm already seeing very slight changes in my perception of the world. Some say I have a good eye for photographic composition and such. I don't know. Maybe it's true, but I just don't see it yet. Sometimes I look at something and just know that it needs to be shot. Only, it comes out like a steaming pile of horseshit when I get home and stare at it for a bit. Other times, it's just serendipity I guess. The muses are floating somewhere overhead with flutterbies and unicorns showering me with colorful ... well ... shit. Only this stuff is a bit more saturated, a bit less smelly, and comes out smelling like luck.

Ok, I don't really know what luck smells like, but I bet it's like marshmallows. You know, like Lucky Charms? Sweet and sugartastic.

Anyway, this change is subtle. I find myself paying more attention to what's around me and framing it mentally in a 4x6 to figure out if I want to capture it ... because, you know ... if you take a picture of it, it'll last longer. And in this photo's case, the more I look at it just because of the light, the more I notice some of the other detail ... the hard lines forming the squares, and rectangles, and diamonds. Now, to you they may all look off-kilter. Neither perfectly square nor perfectly upright.

But, I was there. I look at this and I see the sign in all it's glory. I see it rimmed by perfectly mounted windows. I see each pane of glass converging to build a panel of sand. And each one mounted on it's hinge so it may be swung open at a moment's notice.

And all the while, this sign, standing alone in the cold and under the stark light of a lamp. This lonely sign ... is covered in bird crap. But that's what makes it charming to me, the imperfections of something that has stood out amongst the mundane until, one day, you take a few steps back and look at it from a fading angle. Something different. Something new. All it takes is the right light to change the mood.

What sort of mundane things have you wandered across that have caught your eye because the light was right, the angle was right, the mood was right ... what was it?

Favorite Photos of 2009

January

We spent an evening at the ER in January. My daughter had some sort of infection in her cheeks that caused them to balloon. She looked like a chipmunk. She was scared so I pulled out the camera and started taking pictures of her to keep her occupied. It worked. And I got some great photos of her.

February

Stephanie came up to the studio one evening in February. James had wanted to do a white-face shoot with her and invited me a long. I wanted to do something very directional light-wise. This is one of my favorite photos. I have it hanging up in my office at work.

March

The Austin Music Awards. I don't remember the name of the band, but the keyboardist was spiff. The glasses just made the photo. If you look close, you can see the keyboard in the reflection.

April

A short photowalk around the University of Texas. I like fire hydrants for some reason. No idea why. For this, I wanted to throw the sharpest point of focus just before the water plug. This has a nice cinematic feel to it. I was inspired by some photos on flickr from (I think it was) mingthien.

May

I wanted her cocooned. So we wrapped her in plastic and killed all the lights. I loved this old wood floor at the studio. It had a life to it. Red and creased, dirty but swept. She had this lovely tattoo that I couldn't stop staring at, so off the plastic came. Ripped to shreds so it would reveal the painted flesh beneath.

June

Lacey wanted to do something different. So we met at the Cathedral of Junk in South Austin. It was one of the hottest !@#$% days of the year. Or, at least it felt like it. By 11am, I was dripping with sweat and we were done. Magnanimous and beneficent. She had this queenly appeal going on sitting on that throne.

July

The 4th of July. Sitting amongst the tens of thousands of people on Auditorium Shores. The lesson of the day? Pay attention to wear the fireworks pots are set up ... and make sure that a street lamp isn't between you and them. Had to zoom in for anything worthwhile. Next time, though ...

August

Another photowalk. I came across this group of dancers on the South Mall at UT one afternoon. He had just gotten out from under the lion's head. You could see him panting and working to catch his breath.

September

Ah. The Buenos Aires Cafe in East Austin. I took my wife there one evening in September. Our first night out in awhile. No kids. It was a mini vacation. I had my camera along for the ride. Got some odd, but curious looks from the waitstaff there when I pulled it out every time they brought a new dish to our table. My wife kept laughing at me. No matter. The tart was excellent.

October

On a hike through Bastrop State Park with my boys and a good friend. It had been raining all week leading up to this. The weather had cleared just enough, but the park was still inundated with the remains of the storms.

November

She wanted to be Aeon Flux. We only had a short time to pull this one off. She moved away two weeks later. She had the outfit down. Hair, makeup, guns, pose. We threw our own touch onto the idea and suspended her with rope.

December

And finally, everyone should play with bubbles. You create little translucent worlds that last only moments, each one different, each one a character unto it's own. And then it pops.

I don't know that I'll take anymore photos this year. I still have a full card to go through. But ... there's still a New Year's Eve party ahead of us, so ... who knows. Maybe I'll get one more in before the clock ticks over and resets the new year.

Santa has left the building! ... or a Strobist post-Christmas

Ok. This was originally intended as a post-Christmas review of the orgy of greed at our house. But ... then it turned into something else. With apologies to David Hobby and others mentioned in this take on "'Twas the Night Before Christmas". I couldn't help myself. It just took on a life of it's own after the first four lines.

'Twas a night after Christmas, when all through the home,

All the creatures were snoring, all wheezing an "ooooohm";

The stockings still hung by the chimney o'er there,

all emptied out with vague pomp and no care;


The children passed out all quiet in bed

while visions of chocolate and pokemon danced in their heads;

And mamma with her WOW client, and I in my chair,

Had just settle down for a deserved breathe of air.


When out on the lawn there arose such a "WHEE!",

I sprang from my seat to see what it could be.

Away to the front door I grudgingly trudged

Tore open the lock and wickedly judged.


The moon was at peace on my dead front grass,

Giving nothing but darkness to the objects amassed,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a beat up old Pinto aflame at the rear


With a flash totin' driver, so wizened and nobby

I knew in a moment it must be David Hobby.

More rapid than beagles his speedlights they triggered,

and he whistled, and chimped, while his assistants jiggered;


"Now, McNally! now, Wizwow, now Kelby, and Jarvis!

On, Oglethorpe! On, Bounceman, On Honl and Zack Arias!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now flash away, flash away! flash away all!"


As Rosco samples that in the wind blow,

When they meet with an obstacle, gaffer tape will flow.

So up to the house-top the photogs they flew,

with a box full of superclamps and St. Strobist too.


And then, with a ringing, I heard on the roof

The struggling and screaming of each popped flash on it's hoof.

As I drew back my camera and was turning about,

Down the chimney St. Strobist dropped right out.


He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his toe,

thanks to the great '09 blizzard that covered with snow.

A bundle of goodies he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a UPS guy just opening his pack.


His eyes -- how they sparkled! His nose was so blue!

His cheeks were so frozen, his mouth still craving a Dew!

And up on his forehead camped an orange and blue cap,

The Gators, of course, don't you know that you sap?


The stump of a pocket wizard held tight in his hand,

And the signal it triggered on some 4 channel band.

The glasses that shined and a broad grin

that bubbled up and spread from here to therein.


He was chubby and plump, a right jolly 'tog,

And I giggled when I saw him, no fear, just agog.

A wink of his eye and a nod of his chin,

Just let me see that this was all sorts of win.


He spoke not a word, but he chimped and he triggered

And filled all the CF cards; then turned and he staggered

And laying his finger aside of his cap

And giving a nod, up the chimney he did flap;


He sprang to his Pinto, to his team gave a "whee!"

And away they all puttered like an alien with bee.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Have fun with your lighting, and with that, good night!"

The photo above is of my daughter on Christmas Day. I'd set up two SB-800's on opposite corners of the room after re-reading the post on Christmas Game Plans: Results from way back in 2007. Didn't get very consistent results because I was using TTL. I think, next year, I'll just slap the pocket wizards in place, dial in a consistent exposure and flash power, and see how much better that works. This photo was one of the best. I like it. TTL worked in this particular case. But ... next time.

The Photo I Didn't Take: Strix Varia

Photo of the Strix Varia, aka the "Barred Owl", courtesy of Wikipedia

We all hear it echo in the back of our heads, "The best camera is the one you have with you." You can't take a photo if you don't have that camera within easy reach (or even within reach at all). And we've all done it. Gotten in a hurry, I mean. Gotten so frazzled that we were late or that we thought we wouldn't need it, so it stayed in the camera bag sitting on the kitchen table. Back at the house. 20 miles away.

That's where my camera was on Saturday night. Sitting there, all pristine and warm and cozy with the 50mm f1.8 slapped on it on this chilled Central Texas winter's night. I looked at it right before I walked out of the house thinking I wouldn't need it. You see, I was going to a Christmas party and didn't want to burden myself with having to play the camera guy for the evening. I've been roped into doing that before. It's fun when I want it to be. But this night, I wanted to relax and enjoy myself, not worry about recording the evening for one and all to cherish.

... and out the door I went.

My friend's place is out in the boonies. Far enough out of town that you can begin to see the stars again, but not so far out that the light pollution is gone and you can see the Milky Way. Close, yet so far. Their place is a bit set back from the road. And by a bit, I mean, you turn onto their drive way and travel for another five minutes as it winds back through the narrow strip of land that leads back to the rest of the ranch. Half-way there, you come to a small one-lane concrete bridge that they built over a wet weather creek.

So, like I normally do whenever I'm out there at night, I'm driving slow, driving careful, high beams on so I don't hit anything that looks like a skunk, and making sure I don't bottom the car out on the drive way. This night was no different. But then, it was.

As I said, I don't like speeding on their property. It's rude. Plus, with the recent rain, the driveway was a bit torn up coming up to the bridge. I took it slow and was creeping up onto it, avoiding the mud and the bottomless puddles.

I almost missed it.

The owl, I mean.

It was fully illuminated in my headlights, not more than five feet from the hood of my car. It just sat there, looking at me intently, perched all by it's lonesome on the bridge guard rail. It stared and stared, as if it was willing me to turn off those blinding deer illuminators bolted to the front of my car.

The first instinct was to gently hit the brake. Check.

The second instinct was to reach over and grab the camera with my nice, wide open 50mm and get a photo or three before the owl flew off.

I reached. And felt. And scrambled. And where the camera wasn't, a glass plate of brownies was. CRAP! My camera, my trusty sidekick ... was AWOL. And then I remembered.

It was at home. 20 miles away. In the warmth of the house.

I knew it was back there, silently mocking me. If Nikon had an Easter egg in it's bodies, that Easter egg would be a voice chip and speaker that would laugh hilariously at you whenever you needed the camera most, but failed to keep it at hand.

So, I just sat there, watching the owl watch me back. It was a face off for no more than a dozen seconds. And with that, he leapt from his post guarding the bridge to fly off into the pitch black darkness that wasn't pierced by my headlights.

And this, my dear reader, is why it's important to always have your camera. Because when you're faced with an owl in the dead of night, you want to have something to remember it by. Otherwise, it becomes the photo you didn't take.

And before you ask, it might not have been Strix Varia. I'm pretty sure it was based on the coloring, the markings, and photos of the common owls in Central Texas. But hey. I could be wrong. It was still pretty !@#$% cool to see an owl in the dead of night.

Cartier-Bresson never played with fire.

Like I told my last wife, I says, "Honey, I never drive faster than I can see. Besides that, it's all in the reflexes."

Jack Burton, Big Trouble in Little China

Yes. I'm watching Big Trouble in Little China tonight. I love this movie. It's an 80's classic. I bring it up because of a scene in the movie where Jack and Wang Chi have bet each other that Wang Chi can't split a bottle in two with a large knife. Wang Chi hits the bottle. It, of course, does not split in twain, instead rocketing towards Jack's head. The hand being quicker than the eye, shoots up and snags the bottle before clocking him in the face.

Why do I bring this up?

I've been thinking about Cartier-Bresson's The Decisive Moment and trying to better understand sensing or predicting the moment where the photo is "right". I tell you, I've shot more losers than winners trying to figure this out. Losing photos that is, not loser people. Anyway, this idea of capturing the decisive moment is difficult to grasp. It's difficult to know what exactly this idea really means. There's a group on Flickr to cover some of this. I spent some time reading through the discussions, as well as going back through some of Cartier-Bresson's books to glean some useful information.

Heh. "Useful information". There is none. All the talk I've found doesn't make up for the act of doing. I'm beginning to think it's like pornography ... you'll know it when you see it. And not one second before. Ironic, isn't it ... understanding what the decisive moment should be requires knowing when the decisive moment occurs.

Cartier-Bresson is quoted in a 1957 Washington Post article, saying, "Photography is not like painting. There is a creative fraction of a second when you are taking a picture. Your eye must see a composition or an expression that life itself offers you, and you must know with intuition when to click the camera. That is the moment the photographer is creative. Oop! The Moment! Once you miss it, it is gone forever."

You see. Intuition. You need that. And that only comes over time as you take crap photo after crap photo. At least, that's what it appears to my finely untrained eye. It's like trying to drive down the road, blindfolded, while steering a northerly course by the sensation of the road turtles under your tires. Bumpbumpbumpbumpbump. Get good enough at it, and you'll be able to judge not only distance and speed, but direction just from the sheer force of the ripple in your shocks.

But, back to Cartier-Bresson. He had years to develop this idea. I imagine he took his fair share of crap photos while slowly charting his course towards the decisive moment.

When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, and he looks you crooked in the eye and he asks you if ya paid your dues, you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol' Jack Burton always says at a time like that: "Have ya paid your dues, Jack?" "Yessir, the check is in the mail."

Jack Burton Big Trouble in Little China

Yes. I'm sure Henri paid his dues and that's why he understood what it meant to feel his way towards a better photograph. Intuition. A gut check. Using the force. Whatever you want to call the alignment of the planetary photogenesis (hey, I don't know what that means, it sounded good ... go with it). It ends up manifesting in a tiny, imperceptible muscle twitch that impregnates the image upon our photographic medium of choice right before the moment divests itself from our very sight.

And what do you know. Sometimes it's even a great photo.

The woman above is a local fire spinner in Austin. This was the first time I saw her spin. Very hypnotic. I've gotten to the point where I want to photograph something different with fire. Something I haven't seen or tried to see before. Here, she's up on a stage, replete with a large white background. You'd never know it from the photo, but 'tis true. She's kneeling on the stage, arching back towards the screen, twirling the fire ever closer to her face in between her stripped arms. If the music hadn't been loud, you would have heard the crackling get louder and softer, each time the poi flipped around closer to you. Woosh. Woosh. Woosh. Lovely fire. Lovely photo. Lovely woman. And this is me dancing with that decisive moment.

I think it worked.

Lost in a forest

There's a scene in the movie Jarhead, towards the end where the marines are walking through the desert. You can see the waves of heat simmering up from the sand. Swofford is narrating, "A story. A man fires a rifle for many years. and he goes to war. And afterwards he comes home, and he sees that whatever else he may do with his life - build a house, love a woman, change his son's diaper - he will always remain a jarhead. And all the jarheads killing and dying, they will always be me. We are still in the desert. "


That last line always gets me.

Somewhere, someone is doing the only thing they know and they're ... lost. One of the hardest things we, as artists, have to do is recognize when we're in a rut. It's difficult. Damned difficult. Sometimes you have to force yourself to do something different.

Last weekend I decided it was time to find myself lost in a forest with a camera. It has been wet and cool. We trekked out on a grey and somber day, happy to not be walking in the rain.


There's a distinct crunch to dirt when it's wet. It's not so much that it crushes, but that it grinds and slips beneath your feet molding into the crevasses of your shoes. Then there's the slow sucking lurch as your foot melds in with the red clay mud. It was a hard pudding and we were sloshing through it with wild abandon.

I like walking in the forest. It's quiet. Not like the city where you can't get away from the buzzing sound of engines, squealing tires, yelling, rumbling chopper blades, and the sounds of activity. The forest, it is a death knell, quiet and eerie.


And this lets you relax and unfocus. There's an old saying about being unable to see the forest from the trees. It's right. As an artist, I tend to focus deeply on getting right the very thing that's in front of me. So focused that I completely pass over the detail that comes with everything surrounding.

“A woodland in full color is awesome as a forest fire, in magnitude at least, but a single tree is like a dancing tongue of flame to warm the heart.”

The combination of the grey, overcast day with the break in rain left the flora and fauna in quite a brilliant light. Everywhere we looked the greens were rich and lifelike, the browns were warm and inviting, the sheen left upon the world invited you to stop, crouch down, and navel gaze upon the mushrooms (and boy, were there LOTS of mushrooms). The decay out there was amazing.

And here I sit, one week later, staring at these photographs wondering why I'm still in this rut photographically. And all I can think is ...

I'm a photographer and I am still in the forest. Lost.

Are you a God?

Gozer: [after Ray orders her to re-locate] Are you a God?

[Ray looks at Peter, who nods]

Dr Ray Stantz: No.

Gozer: Then... DIE!

[Lightning flies from her fingers, driving the Ghostbusters to the edge of the roof and almost off; people below scream]

Winston Zeddemore: Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say "YES"!


Ghostbusters

Inspiration strikes at the strangest times. No, I wasn't watching Ghostbusters at the time, but I was staring at my big, beautiful 54" DLP TV (that now has one lovely pixel that's stuck in the on position). It's a nice TV. Has a great picture, especially when the high def channels are running on it.

I was watching something on one of the Discovery channels when inspiration hit. I had been thinking about backgrounds because of the cookie setup I used for some recent portraits (written about in Boot to the head!). One of the things I look for now is an interesting background. Ok, maybe not interesting ... different. Something I haven't seen or done before.

So, this particular TV show has some very colorful moments in it when I realize that, if unfocused, would make some unique and easy backgrounds. I wouldn't have to do much to make it work. But, what about a subject?

We have this statue in our living room. It's a glorified candle holder. My wife says it's some sort of Buddha-ish thing. It has quite a bit of detail in it. Bumps and curves and folds.
Plus the candle, must not forget the pale green honeydew candle sitting upon it's lap. In other words, something curious and attractive photographically.

Background. Check.

Subject. Check.

What's next? The lighting! I've been playing with collapsing my umbrella to help control the light a bit more. I wanted something more directional than shooting through a white umbrella (which has WAY to much light, I'm finding). But, without access to a softbox right now, I make do with what I have on hand. So, collapsed umbrella with the flash bouncing into it, as opposed to through it. The light was certainly a bit crisper in the shadowline.

Toss in a flickering flame and you have something where the light is sculpted just enough to bring out the detail in the statue.

So, Background, check.

Subject, check.

Lighting, check.

Three simple things needed to make a good photo. In this particular case, I tossed the light to camera right and feathered it away from the subject. Pushing it so it was directly on and above put too much light and killed too much of the shadow for me. You can see it a bit better in the setup shot. The hanging edge of the collapsed umbrella is lined up so it would be just on the edge of the face.

One of the things I'm finding is that it's worthwhile just trying something. Using the TV as a background was a stroke of chance (and man, timing the shot so the background was something useful was quite a pain in the ass). The two shots I have above were taken shortly apart from each other and you can see the big difference in style. I love the separation of the head and background made by the green sliver combined with the smoke trails vaporing off into nothing. I also love the fiery red background of the second combined with the single flick of orange flame. It works.

Oh, and the TV show? I think it was some documentary about the solar system, how it was formed, and how it would all come spiraling in to a despotic end, crushing our tiny little Earth. Makes for a cheery day, doesn't it?

So remember: try it. It might work. It might not. And if it doesn't, you've still learned something: how not to use a light, a background, or an idea in a particular way.

HDR Playtime!

Last month when I flew up to Chicago, we got diverted to St. Louis because of the nightmare that was the storm front rolling through the area. The sunset was beautiful. It was just us, the plane, the tarmac, and our fellow stranded fliers in the other planes around us. We were all in the penalty box and no one knew if we'd get out alive.

I didn't have much else to do, so I popped over to the left side of our plane and just started playing with the bracketing on my d300. I had intended to play with HDR a bit, but never got around to touching the photos when I got back to Austin.

Until now.

It's not great. I'm definitely no StuckInCustoms, that's for sure. But hell, for a first attempt, it's pretty damn good. Check it out in
large on black.

This was created with 7 RAW images all at f8, ranging from 1/100th to 1/1600th and tonemapped in Photomatix. I had to let it re-align things because I was handholding the camera and shifted around a bit while the photos were being taken. I think it did an excellent job.

Definitely need to play with HDR some more and see what I can come up with.

Fireworks or Bust!

If your lifetime goal is to own a fireworks stand ... you might be a redneck. -- Jeff Foxworthy

I, of course, don't want to own a fireworks stand. Now, I'm not knocking those who do, but that aspiration just isn't my style. Nevertheless, I did my photographic duty yesterday and camped out with the hundreds of thousands of other people at Town Lake in the blazing July heat. Yes, that fantastical Texas heat. As if the showering sparkles of gun powder laced in burning smoke, the army of fire ants, and warm drips of sweat weren't enough.

For all my heat-induced bellyaching, I have to say I did enjoy the show. I made the colossal mistake of parking close this year. You know, to save time getting to the show. Because I'm Lazy. Yes, with a capital "L". Hung out with a few friends before the show so I could suck up some of their marvelous air conditioning. It was like seeing one of those signs out in the desert, "Last chance for gas, 180 miles." You knew you'd better stop and partake of that brilliant resource before you found yourself out in the middle of nowhere, miles from relief and help, while pissing into the wind.

By 8:45, I knew I had to get over to the park or I'd miss my chance to etch the pretty sparklies onto a flash card for posterity. Say goodbye to Mr. A/C. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

I found a spot on the hill in front of the Palmer Event Center. It's a shame it was the wrong spot. See, what I neglected to realize in my excellently sketched out plan was ... well, you'll see. Sadly, leave it to me to draw this plan out on the back of a napkin. When the ink soaked in like a bloodied pool, I discovered error of my ways. What was so wrong?

Well, everything was fine with the playing of the 1812 Overture. The guns were booming, people were jumping up in fright. And when the fireworks started, they ... were. not. in. front. of. me. No.

They were off to my left. Right behind a lamp post. It was at that moment I wished I had one of two things: a rifle and scope or Dumbledore's lamplight killer thingy. To say I was annoyed would be the understatement of the moment. Shame I had already unpacked all my camera gear and dug in to my little photo foxhole. I was fully engaged and had nowhere to escape to. So, I did what any good photographer would do.

I shot.

There's a scene in Wild, Wild West where Artemis, acting as the President, is chastising West on his investigative style: "Shoot, shoot again, shoot some more, and then ask questions." This thought bubbled up to the front of my mind as I laid on the camera trigger and didn't stop shooting until the last explosive pot launched above the Austin skyline.

And as quickly as it had begun, it ended. Fifteen minutes to get in and find my spot. Fifteen to setup. It took me two to pack, and ten to hoof it out. I wanted to beat the rush. Sadly, I, like every other optimistic party-goer in Austin, decided that they would beat the rush too. Dave Mustaine kept my company the rest of the evening while I ... moved a foot, stomped on the brake. moved a foot, stomped on the brake. Moved three feet ... stomped on the brake.

Fireworks shows put on at Town Lake are an exercise in patience. But, only at their end. There are only five major north-south thoroughfares through Austin to get over the lake: IH35, Congress, South 1st, Lamar, and Mopac. South 1st is always shut down for big events. And the rest, well ... imagine a parking lot. Only with pissed off drunk people. And it's 47 bazillion miles long. It goes without saying that I wanted my bloody hovercar last night. I even called my wife and asked here where my hovercar was. I bet she stole it from me just to make me suffer.

But I digress.

Eventually, I made out of the area and onto IH35 wherein, I stomped on the gas, popped some Digital Underground into the CD player, and cruised through the city at high speed, deftly avoiding the drunk yahoos and their mishmash of weaving and bouncing off the concrete walls.

And that, my friends, was how I spent 4th of July in Austin.

If you'd like to see bigger versions of the photos below, check out my Fireworks Slideshow on Flickr.

Dirty Inspiration

I love Mike Rowe. Don't know him? He hosts Dirty Jobs on Discovery. It's a fascinating series about the dirty jobs that help make this world run. (Kind of obvious based on the title, eh?). Mike talks about the episode he did surrounding the job of a sheep herder. It's a captivating and animated story that he tells.

A few things are impressed upon me from this video: the ideas of anagnorisis and peripeteia and the notion that your preconceptions are wrong.

Now, anagnorisis and peripeteia don't necessarily apply directly to photography, but work with me. Anagnorisis and peripeteia are literary devices. Wikipedia, the source everyone loves to hate, notes that anagnorisis means discovery in Greek. It's the sudden realization of a situation. In Greek tragedies, it was often preceded by a peripatetic event, a sudden reversal or turning point in the story.

With me so far? Good.

In the journey to become a photographer, one makes mistakes. A lot of mistakes. You forget to focus. You forget your batteries. You forget that larger f-stops give you smaller depth of field. You know, simple mistakes that affect how you achieve the photo you're going for. If you're paying attention, you learn from these mistakes. You have your "ahha!" moment. The lightbulb flicks on just above your furrowed brow right as you make the mistake and you think, "I shouldn't have done that!"

It's that realization that you've made the mistake that's important. But, not everything is a mistake. Many times it's understanding that what you just did failed for some particular reason outside of your control and figuring out why. Another "ahha!" moment. Discovery. Sounds so simple, right?

Yes and no.

When I started shooting, I had a brand new camera in my hands, a bunch of book learning in my head, and my personal experience amounted to a photographic hill of beans. In other words, I was fresh off the boat and I knew it all. All I had to do was get the camera off automatic, twist a few dials, and my inner magician would appear, flashing the scene with The Light Fantastic, and I'd have amazing and emotionally charged photos.

Great concept. Reality left a little bit to be desired. Ok. That's the understatement of the day. Blast! That's when I begun to realize that there was something more to this than whacking the Easy Button and waiting for the benjamins to roll in. As Mike put it, I had a bit of anagnorisis and peripeteia on my chin.

Mike touches upon this idea of challenging your preconceptions. He's right: what if it really is "Safety Third"? Think about that. It goes against your nature to even consider that. Right or wrong, what's important here is that you make the leap between what you know is correct and true to what is sheer crazy talk. It's this leap where the interesting ideas come from. I've often heard this as: when shooting with other photographers, if they start shooting something to their left, you start shooting to their right ... because something interesting is being missed over there.

In the end, what it comes down to is this: we spend our moments looking at what we're doing and testing ourselves in order figure out a better way to do it. If you're good, you question yourself and your routines. If you're better, you listen to those questions and do something with the answers.

Me? I'm going to go wipe these bloody bits of anagnorisis and peripeteia off my chin and find something right to shoot.

New Rules: How to shoot a datacenter

[Ed. note: I wrote this years ago while after encountering a photog at a day job in a datacenter. I recently came across it again and thought it would be fitting here. Enjoy!]

Today I was tasked with the job of being the grand overseer of the pretty people and the magic picture box trolls who were rummaging around in one of our datacenters. (read: corporate used one of our datacenters for a photoshoot. They had a professional photographer and a bunch of "pretty people" who were trying to act like sysadmins, scampering hither and thither in our room).

If you're a photographer taking marketing shots of a technical area, I'm going to give you a short guide on do's and don'ts that you and your models should follow.

1. Do show up on time and listen to the rules the nice sysadmin gives you.


2. Don't be put off when the nice sysadmin tells you that you can't shoot in the room he has to work in while he's overseeing you.


3. Do ask questions about what you can and can't do.


4. Don't just start touching the pretty lights.


5. Do ask for assistance touching the equipment.


6. Don't look for a wall of monitors in the datacenter. The datacenter is for computers that are remotely managed. We don't like the datacenter. It's cold, loud, and obnoxious. We therefor spend as little time as possible in there to save our hearing and keep our butts from freezing off.


7. Do pick models that look like they're sysadminish geek types. I've been a sysadmin for almost a decade. The number of pretty people you brought in to act as sysadmins equals the number of pretty sysadmins in the continental US. It just doesn't happen.


8. Don't ooh and aaah at the pretty lights and have your models make fake poses pointing at them. It looks silly.


9. Don't have your models squat on the floor, looking down the length of a cold isle. It looks stupid.


10. Contrary to popular opinion, sandals are not usually worn in a datacenter. We don't like how our feet hurt when we accidently drop computers on them.


11. No matter how much you think she is, the gorgeous blonde with the lime green, mid-thigh flowing skirt is not a sysadmin. No. Not ever.


12. In raised floor data centers, air moves from the floor up to the ceiling. It generally moves pretty fast. We move alot of air. Things have to keep cool. Why does this matter? Unless you want a Marilyn Monroe moment, your models should not be wearing lime green, mid-thigh skirts. No matter how much the overseer wishes she would just walk back and forth over the perf tiles.


13. Don't pester the sysadmin about what he thinks should be shot. He's a sysadmin. He's not a photographer. If he was a photographer, he'd be doing your job, not his, and likely be getting paid just as well, if not better, than you.


14. Do complete your research before the shoot. This will help you compose your shots appropriately.


15. Don't ask the sysadmin how he would best show "virtualization" in a datacenter. How would he do it? He'd do it like IBM. One big fucking empty datacenter. One rack. Right in the center. Nothing else around. No, it's not sexy. Get over it.


16. Sysadmins don't generally walk around in high dollar clothing from the Gap, Ambercrombie and Fitch, or Banana Republic. That shit's expensive. We work in dirty environments. The last thing we want to do is waste our precious money on getting expensive clothing dirty because we're doing our jobs.


17. No, we will not stop doing the regular work in the datacenter so you have a "cleaner" shot. It's a working production environment. Completing our jobs is worth more to the company than your pictures.


18. Do thank the sysadmin for all his help.


19. Don't call the sysadmin "dude" or "buddy" or "pal". He has a name. He told it to you when he introduced himself to you.


20. Don't get pissy when the sysadmin can't remember your name. His only concern is that you're not fucking up his environment while you're getting your shots.


21. When the sysadmin tells you to stop doing what you're doing, you will stop. You will cease and desist. You will move into a place not immediately connected with what you were doing. If you don't, he will get pissed and likely remove you forcibly from the room. Why? Because you just fucked something up and he's realized it.


22. When the sysadmin tells you to leave, you will. Have a problem with that? Please go talk to your contact, who will talk to his boss, who will then talk to the sysadmin, at which point the sysadmin will give justifiable reasons for the decision. Boss will side with the sysadmin. Get over it.


23. When the time comes for your photoshoot to end, you will pack up and leave. You will not go over your time. The sysadmin has been stuck in this room with you for several hours. He's tired, cold, hungry, and probably has to take a leak because he's been unable to leave the room unattended while you're in there. Also, it's probably quitting time and he wants to go home.


24. Do take the sysadmin's rules as law. He has been given final say about your existence in his world. You're there as a guest. Don't fuck it up.


25. When you fuck something up you will have your models leave the room and a representive from the photo shoot will stand out of the way and be present when things are being fixed. Your rep will be respectful and quiet. The sysadmin's job is to fix this visit from the fuckup fairy and then convey to you what damage has been done and what it has cost the company.


26. Stay away from the networking gear.


27. Stay away from the networking gear.


28. If there's networking gear, stay away from it.


29. The thing that has all the blinky lights and the pretty tentacled masses of cables coming out of it. Yeah, stay away from it.


30. No, the sysadmin won't turn his music off. He's using it to help protect his hearing from all the loud noises. Yes, those pink and purple things in his ears are ear plugs. He's using them to cut out the white noise in the room so he can hear his music.


31. Don't freak out when the sysadmin whips out a knife to work on something. He's a professional. He's not going to bloody his tools with the likes of you. Well, as long as you don't cause a visit from the fuckup fairy.


32. No matter how sexy you think the other room is, you're not going in there. The last photoshoot that happened there is the cause of rules 26 through 29.


33. Be nice to the sysadmin. He might take bribes. Offer him food and drinks. He likes free things, especially if they're highly caffienated.

I will say, though, the young lady in the lime green skirt ... damn.

[Ed. note: The model in the photo is Hayley. She is not a sysadmin.]

How do photos affect you?

Last night, a friend and I went to an exhibit of Fritz Henle's photography at the Harry Ransom Center. Excellent exhibit; you should make the trip down there to see it while it's still in Austin. While going from one photo to the next, we began discussing how there's a natural flow to some photos that makes them appealing ... or quite the opposite: turning your stomach because they're composed in a way that's just so utterly jarring to the natural order of things. I didn't pay much attention to the discussion after we left the exhibit until today at lunch when having a discussion about one of my recent photo shoots (last Tuesday's in fact).

I'm not exactly sure what drove me to do this. I'd seen the idea some place else and wanted to expand on it. Basically, I wanted my model completely wrapped in plastic. Tightly. We covered her head to toe in a cocoon of pallet wrap, split open a small hole to breathe from, and I went to town with the camera. One of the photos I took was a closeup of her exposed lips. This was soon after the model started getting a bit claustrophobic because the breathing hole was too small. No biggie, rip it open a bit more, and we continued on.

Today, I was talking with another friend at lunch about this photo. Her reaction to the photo was one I had not expected: she said she immediately got lost in it, got claustrophobic, and then had to force herself to look away and breathe to calm down. I can see how this photo goes against the norms of society (who wraps a person in plastic for fun? :-) and can be utterly jarring. I just didn't expect the photo to affect someone that deeply.

Do some photos do that to you (in the "I have to turn away right now or I'm going to pass out" sort of way)? What was it about the photo that did it? (And I'm not really concerned about the photos that are blatantly fucked up ... I'm more interested in those that, at first blush, seem ok until you really look at them and get dragged in).

It's a bizarre curiosity for me, I guess, understanding the design dynamic that goes into making a photo that's sole purpose is to tweak a person in what may be perceived as a negative way. I mean, it doesn't take much to make a photo that someone looks at and gets turned on by. But to make one that has a subtle but gnawing detail in it that sticks in your subconscious and eats at you? You know the kind of image I'm talking about ... it's the train wreck one. You just have to look at it to figure out what went wrong, when, and where.

I think a lot of it just comes down to wanting to know how to affect the mood and emotion of the viewers of my photographs in any way I choose. Like I said, it's easy (in my opinion) to make something that warms a heart. I think it's harder to do something that turns one frigid or throws chills up your spine because we naturally don't wish to encounter those things. They're potentially painful.

As an aside: I recently got access to a well stocked library again (and one that should have some excellent photographic resources), so I think I'm going to spend some time going through to try and understand where this idea is coming from. Just something for me to think about.

The model here was a trooper. We had her wrapped up for over an hour or so, pushing her this way, shoving her that way, rearranging her until she fit the light the right way. Apparently it's hard to move around when your body is mummified in plastic. Who knew?

Oh, and Fritz Henle? Yeah, you really ought to go see the exhibit. It's free at the HRC and worth the 30-45 minute walk through. Excellent work (although, I'm really not big on his fashion photography ... but I digress).

Changing of the Guard

There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.

Niccolò Machiavelli

Friday was my last day at work. After almost 11 years there, it was clear that I needed a change of pace. I start the new job on Monday. Same type of work, different setting. It should be slower paced and more relaxed. Not much to say beyond that. I'll probably have a bit more time to work on my photography. I'm going to miss working with those folks. Quite a few were like family.

Friday evening quite a few of us met up for happy hour at Serranos to send off me (and my boss, who coincidentally, also found a new job too). Took a few photos, had some taken of me. It was quiet, but good. Sad to go, but looking forward to the change.