I went to the first half of Hickman High School’s homecoming game tonight to practice my football shooting. The weather was perfect, and the lens was just delightful – a brandy-new, never before used 300mm lens from Nikon. They provide new gear to the equipment locker at school every year. Now I want one for myself.
Captions to come. It’s late.
I like to photograph dinner.
In doing so last night, I had a moment of zen about light.
Overhead. (6400 ISO, 70mm, f/4, 1/90 sec.)
From the side. (3200 ISO, 70mm, f/2.8, 1/125 sec.)
Each frame has a similar exposure – not exact, but similar. I had to go to f/4 and increase the exposure by about 1/2 stop on the overhead to get the surface of the veggies sharp. And the 1/125 was a little too dark so I brightened it up about 1/2 stop in post. But still. Look at the difference in the light. The pizza did not move, nor did the lights.
Which do you prefer?
This is where my subject’s horses live, but the horse here is actually his sister’s. (My picture of the day before starting to work on this project.)
My subject in action at a small rodeo on Saturday. He uses these small summer rodeos as practice for High School Rodeo.
Second half of shooting will be on Thursday. More to come.
I know I love the Bird By Bird book, so for this set of readings, I decided to go with Bill Jay and David Hurn’s chapter called Selecting a Subject first. I thought maybe I wouldn’t like it as much if I put it second like last week’s selections. Instead, in the second paragraph, I found my inspiration for the day.
“You are not a photographer because you are interested in photography. […] These interests, no matter how personally enjoyable they might be, never lead to the person becoming a photographer. The reason is that photography is only a tool, a vehicle, for expressing or transmitting a passion in something else.” (p. 29-30)
When telling one of my staff photographers about this idea, something made us stand up in the photo bubble and shout “Yes!” as though we’ve finally found someone to vindicate us in our belief that there really is something that separates us from the rest of the world with a camera.
Hurn and Jay’s advice on finding a subject also made me laugh, as I just went through that process in finding one-day story ideas to pitch. I drew up a list and then went through the next day and picked out the most interesting visually and interesting subject to me options. The two stronger ideas were of things that I’m passionate about, or have a true curiosity about.
I also loved how they describe finding a style in your photography. “A unique style, which is what we are talking about, is the by-product of visual exploration, not it’s goal. […] Ironically, by starting with self, it is missed; ignore it, and it becomes evident.” (p. 34-35) I don’t know where they came up with this stuff, but I could eat it up all day.
**
In this installment of Bird by Bird, I finally saw what I was thinking since the beginning – this writer knows, and likely had met, Natalie Goldberg, the author of Writing Down the Bones. When I was a writer in college, someone recommended that book. It’s excellent in getting past your ‘writer’s block’ or ‘creative block’ or whatever ails you in writing. I see many connections between the two books. Perhaps that’s why I love this one so much.
In any case, the two chapters up for reading continue where we left off at content generating. Sometimes the story just isn’t clear yet, but we know we have a location and an event to get us started. Sometimes the main character doesn’t become apparent until we have collected almost all of our content and are nearing the end of the day. Just like the polaroid, she wrote. It all slowly comes into focus as time passes and the story – the picture – develops.
I feel like I’m going to encounter this with my one day story, which I hope will pan out into a final project as well. I have a willing subject, and an idea of what I may or want to see, but it’s just a partially developed polaroid right now. It needs some shaking and time to fully develop into a story.
These readings, as usual, make me want to get up and make pictures, to get started on shaking my polaroid.
(cue Outkast.)
When the football is this large in the frame on your 70-200mm lens, DUCK.
It bounced just to the left of me, flew back up to hit Jeff Lautenberger in the hand, and then veered straight into a TV guy’s camera above Jeff’s head.
It’s always an adventure on the sidelines of a football game.
First up. Bird by bird.
My book has 19 flags in four colors hanging out the side. We’re only four chapters in.
Each one of those flags marks a place where Anne Lamott wrote something so perfectly about the creative process – well, in her words, the writing process. But take out the word “writing” and put in “photograph” and we’ve got a manifesto, folks. Even in just the introduction, from her admission to seeing your name in print to the desires of her students to get published, but not necessarily to write, she’s nailed it on the head. All I could think about was my first day of class in Fundamentals, thinking, “Why am I in this class? I already HAVE experience. Can’t I move on and shoot for the paper already?” (Yes, I thought this. David Rees humbled me by the end of that first week.)
And I find it quite fitting that I’m so full of words and love for this book that it took me quite a while to sit here and actually write about it. All these words are just flying around my brain, trying to process everything that she writes about and I can’t quite make sense of it all. I bookmarked all those pages to try and remember pieces, but I think the most resonant idea that I can take away so far is that to write well – or in our case, to take good photographs – is to practice. To start small. Like our one day story project. Something simple to get us into the rhythm of making photographs that tell a story, so that by the time we’re faced with the final project, we’re already feeling the groove.
She likens the process to musicians. “What’s real is that if you do your scales every day, if you slowly try harder and harder pieces, if you listen to great musicians play music you love, you’ll get better.” (p.14) If we take photographs every day, if we try for more and more complex storytelling, and look at some amazing photographers’ work because we can’t get enough, we’ll all get better at telling the stories we need to tell.
And she tells us flat out – there will be shitty first drafts. We need those rough edits and first day’s takes to know where we are in a story and where we need to go. In order to kill our puppies, we need to have a brood to kill first. (For those of you who don’t understand that phrase, it has nothing to do with real killing. It’s more about editing out your most loved photograph because it doesn’t help the story along.) No photographer goes out on assignment and comes back with an entire take of portfolio quality images. It takes a first edit, and a second edit, and many times three or more edits to really discover the beauty in the full take.
The final chapter we were to read was on perfectionism. She writes, “Perfectionism means that you try to not leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived.” (p. 28) I need to learn to embrace this idea that a little bit of mess can be a very good thing. I can get so nitpicky, so anal, so . . . perfect-obsessed about assignments and photographs and stories and portfolios and websites .and ohh, yeah. I need this. “… we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here – and by extension, what we’re supposed to be writing.”
And photographing.
Next. Langton.
I have to laugh here. The book on photojournalism makes me want to gouge my eyes out, and the book on writing has me dreaming about adventures. Not that Langton writes anything truly dull or incorrect, but that he’s writing about everything we hear, day in and day out, at a journalism school. Real people don’t talk about photojournalism like this. Yes, we talk at length about the importance – or the existence – of objectivity and symbolism in photographs, but outside of these walls, it’s just not so academic. He brings up some great points for discussion, how money drives the business while passion drives people, how editing can change the context and content of a story wildly, and how photographs can become icons and symbols out of context. I just wish it didn’t sound like a dissertation.
(Oh wait. I think it was one.)
And finally … the podcast.
Short, sweet and right to the point. Talent can only get you so far. You gotta put in the effort behind it to be really great. And when you start to reach that point, or at least understand it and work towards it, you’ll be noticed. Or we hope so. Do we put in enough hours in our program to get us on our way to really thinking about what we do and why we do it? What makes it good, and what makes it suck? Have we really devoted our lives to our craft, or are we coasting by on so-so grades and so-so effort?
But as we’ve seen on so many bad photographer’s websites – there needs to be a baseline of talent. That’s what will make you stand out among the crowd of time-investing enthusiasts. That little spark of brilliance we all know and see in each other every day.
I could use some ruby slippers right about now. And a conch shell to put sound to this image.
Also, if anyone invents a story idea detector, please let me know.
This is the second class that will hijack my blog this semester. Please keep in mind that this is a technical class and we have certain requirements with the assignments. They may not be the most beautiful yet – it’s just practice for us to learn the details of HTML, CSS, Flash, etc.
So.
Here’s the link to my first assignment, the index.html page, written in basic HTML.
It’s that time of year again – my blog will be hijacked for not one, but two classes this semester. I considered not using this blog for class, but then I thought that it might spark some interesting inspiration or conversation from readers. (If there are any readers.)
My first assignment for Picture Story (or capstone, as the undergrads call it) is to list some picture stories that I’ve seen that either work or don’t work, things that inspire and influence, and write a little about each.
1. The first I thought of immediately was by a colleague in DC, Amanda Lucidon. (No, not Amanda Lucier, the MU grad.) It’s a picture story of a deaf dancer. How much harder can you get in illustrating the non-visual concept? While I feel like the story could probably go for a tighter edit, I think the point is brought across to show that yeah, she’s different – deaf – but she still does everything that any normal ten-year old would do. Being able to tell a non-visual story (or a one-photo literal story as in this case) is an incredible talent. Perhaps someday I’ll give it a try.
http://www.amandalucidon.com/Site/Deaf_Dancer.html
2. I’m sure everyone will link to this story by Maisie Crow. It won (did it really win, or was it just a contender?) for CPOY, and it deserves all the attention the story has received since publication. It’s simple, beautiful, and so moving. Every time I look at the images, I want to cry. I can feel the love and loss in every frame. Somewhere, there’s an article about her experience photographing this story. It’s worth a read. This story also inspires me to try and find a touching, personal story someday. I mean, really personal. In depth. Caring. Illuminating life. It’s a lofty goal, but I’ll get there eventually.
http://www.maisiecrow.com/gallery.html?gallery=A LIFE ALONE
3. So, for my third story I wanted to find something that did well in a contest, but if I were a judge, I would have voted it out. I came across this one from CPOY 59 by a guy named Denis Rochefort from RIT. The story won an award of excellence. While I really like the opening frame, it just seems like a collection of photographs taken on a night out. It seems like there’s possibility for a great story in a club that’s drug and alcohol free, where kids can just be kids. But for me, there’s something missing. I’m interested to see what others think in class.
http://www.cpoy.org/index.php?s=WinningImages&yr=59&c=59&p=4.1
Before classes start, an incoming freshmen tradition is to participate in the Tiger Walk. The band, Marching Mizzou, plays. The deans of the school speak. The basketball coach riles everyone up with a rousing “MIZ!” And with a countdown, the kids sprint up over the little hill, through the columns, and finish at department tables set up with banners and piles of Tiger Stripe ice cream set up in front of Jesse Hall.
It’s supposed to signify the entrance into Mizzou and the start of their college careers.
In four years, these kids will be slowly sauntering away from Jesse Hall, up over the hill and through the columns, not running but barely able to inch forward and start their lives as graduates.
Tradition is huge at Mizzou. Some may call it lame, but for most – it’s just a way of life here.
Welcome, class of 2014.
