Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Failure is Inevitable in Landscape Photography

There will be no sample pics in the post, because there aren't any to be had.

We've all done our best to deal with failure, and it certainly is frustrating.  But to be able to keep going, every photographer must understand that failing is not just part of the job, it's most of the job, particularly with something as fickle as nature.  Nature doesn't care about our timetable, and isn't remotely interested in whether we're present or not, prepared or not, or what our expectations are.  A human being trying to figure out when the best shot will present itself is the very definition of hubris.  The fact that we as photographers try to adapt to a virtually unknown and unknowable schedule leads to a lot of wasted shots and wasted time.  But there simply is no other way, and getting used to it will make your life better.

This week I've been researching a specific shot that was requested by a client, to replace a landscape photograph in their home that's about 140 years old.  She would like to have the same view, but taken today.  It shouldn't be surprising that very little information about certain areas remains after that length of time, so it's been difficult not only finding out the photographer, but exactly where the shot was taken.  The area is now quite built up, so it may end up being impossible to see the natural features that are so prominent in the original photograph.  After using Google Earth to find some location candidates, I scheduled a trip to the area, which is in Southern Colorado.

The trip took a day, covering over 400 miles, and had to be scheduled so that I would be there late in the day.  That's the only time the sun is in the right spot to illuminate the mountain peak, as it faces Northwest.  Summer is also the only time the sun pulls far enough North that the right light could be achieved, and the weather needs to be taken into consideration as well.  There should be some light, puffy clouds, but not enough to shade the mountain.

Weather.com and Weather Underground are my sources for forecasts, and I was assured by both, as late as an hour before I left, that there was zero percent chance of rain, and 7 percent cloud cover.  Looked perfect.  By the time I got within thirty miles of my destination, I could tell I was wasting my time.  There was a huge wall of gray blocking the mountain and the town, but nothing anywhere else - just 95 degrees and blue sky on the entire trip so far.  Within ten miles of the mountain, I started to see lightning on all sides, and another bank of storms lining up behind the current deluge. This wouldn't be an "interesting" storm that would play with the light and make for a once-in-a-lifetime shot.  This was an all-encompassing wall of despair and wetness that would render all shadows and highlights moot, blanketing the entire area in complete shadow.  I had come this far though, so there was no point in pouting about it.  I continued on.

Through the rain, I found the two candidate spots, and could tell right away that they weren't the right locations.  One of them didn't even afford a view of the peak, a small rise being the culprit.  So at least I had gathered a little knowledge for my time.  There was another majestic view of the peak with the town laid out below, which I knew in advance was not the right location, but I went up there anyway, since I had come this far.  This view over the town was available by virtue of a high bluff, which just happened to have a huge sign and flagpole atop it.  Even though it was raining and there was lightning everywhere, I went up the dirt road anyway, risking my life for a shot I couldn't take.

Knowing that it wasn't worth getting the regular camera out, I pulled out my point-and-shoot and grabbed a snapshot of the almost-black mountain overlooking the town.  As the rain picked up even more, another car pulled up as I was leaving, with a family.  I briefly noted to myself how stupid they were for coming up there during a lightning storm, but soon remembered my own idiocy, wished them well in my mind, and drove off.

So nine hours wasted so far, with nothing to show for it.  But this was only one failed attempt.  There may be several more before I get what I want for this shot, and every other photographer has been through the same thing many, many times.  So don't get discouraged.  You'll need to wait all day, fail, and then come back another day, or perhaps hike to one spot four times to get a shot like the great Wally Pacholka, or wait until the right time of year, only to miss out yet again.  Keep going.  It's not your failure, it simply a part of the process required.  Be warned though, that after all that work, people will be even more likely to say it's a fake!

Friday, July 25, 2014

Anatomy of a Motorcyle Shoot - Part 1

Many readers of this blog photograph cars as either their hobby or their trade.  Shooting a motorcycle presents its own challenges though, so let's branch off the beaten path for a bit.  We'll see how you can get wonderful shots with only a minimum of equipment, a fair amount of attention to detail and technique, a lot of time setting up, and a lot of time in postproduction.

The Circumstances


The bike in question is a 1952 Vincent Red and Black known as Hellboy, one of the finest bikes in the world, and certainly the finest of the 17 of these beauties ever built.  Now that this bike has been shown, it's safe to put it up in this post.  Its only show so far has been Keeneland Councours in Lexington KY, where it earned Best of Show.  It's owned by Gene Brown, almost certainly the winningest collector the U.S. has ever seen.  At this year's Quail Motorcycle Gathering alone, he was awarded Best of Show, First Place, and The Design and Style Award.  He also won Best of Show as well as Best of Class, British 1901-1940, at the 2013 Del Mar Celebration of the Motorcycle with his 1932 Vincent, which I also had the pleasure of shooting last year.  Gene travels a lot, and as such, when he gets home, he's not too keen on packing everything up to go somewhere just for a shoot.  So believe me, when Gene calls, wanting you to come over to his place for a shoot, it's time for you to make it happen the way he wants it.

So instead of going for a location or a studio, I needed to pack up the essentials and do the shoot in his quite nondescript and unassuming garage.  Since I needed to control reflections and lighting, we needed to make sure there was little sunlight, so we got started at 7:00 P.M. 

What I Took


I'm a firm believer that all of the tools that I use are important to me, but not to my client, and probably not to you in most cases.  Would you care what type of pencil your architect used?  Or how many hammers your carpenter had?  Certainly not, because how well either of them do their job is not defined by brand.  It's defined by the proper tool and the proper expertise only.  It's important that you have a hammer in your construction job.  What's not important is how many hammers you have, or what brand they are (usually).  So with that in mind, I'm sure the keen eye can tell what brand and model of seven-year old camera I use by looking at the first setup shot in the second part of this series.  But I invite you to not care about that, and instead focus on technique and which tools get used in which circumstance.  If you obsess over getting the latest camera every six months to make your shots better, this article is going to upset you, and you don't need that.

Camera


Okay, so the camera is an obvious choice.  We'll definitely need that.  I brought just one lens, and not even a prime.  The surroundings of the garage will dictate how far away I get, and unless I have a set of six or eight primes, I probably won't have the right one for this distance anyway.  My only non-special-effect primes are a 35mm and a 50mm, and I can't remember the last time I used them.  As far as the rest of the actual camera gear, I brought a tripod, a geared head, and a radio remote trigger, so I don't have to touch the camera.  And that's it.

You could get by with a ball head, but that makes it harder to make fine adjustments in shot alignment.  Having said that, I've done plenty of shoots that way before, and no one was the wiser, except for me.  You bring (and buy) the tools that YOU think will make your job easier.  So which brand of geared head?  Well, you could spend hours perusing photography forums and experimenting with rentals for months like some people do, or you could go an actual camera shop and actually try one or two for yourself, and then buy one and move on with your life.  I use a Bogen/Manfrotto 410, which is an awesome head, but mine was bought used, and has a bent gear, so one of the axes is very difficult to turn.  And yet, I use it anyway, because I have learned to work within my gear's limitations, instead of always buying new stuff.  The client doesn't know and doesn't care whether the gear is bent, and I don't obsess over getting new heads.  It doesn't slow me down in any appreciable way.

Lighting


No strobes.  We don't want hot spots on the bike, since one of the uses will be for website promotion, and possibly builder promotion.  They're looking for shots that will show off the bike, not the reflection of an umbrella in the gas tank.  Any softbox less than five feet high will be too small for this shoot.

I ended up bringing a 10'X30' white sheet for backdrop, stands, crossbar and clamps for that sheet, several pieces of whiteboard for reflection, and a large softbox with a rolling stand.  While most people use strobes inside these boxes,I don't need to do that, since I'm not working with human models most of the time.  An easier setup for me is to use it as one big light, lighting the entire area to be photographed, rather than as a high-key background.  To light it continuously I've built an LED lightbar that uses a 12V battery, and mounts on the rolling stand, inside the box.  That way I don't have to depend on location power, and I don't have to buy expensive battery strobes.

Custom LED lightbar, 12V

Closeup of one portion of lightbar.  Interested in plans?  Let me know.

The wheeled stand is a necessity, so that I can position it at will, changing angles and height if necessary. I use a Fotodiox box for this, because it comes standard with a great stand, and because their people are much more friendly and helpful than the people at Lastolite.  I've owned a Lastolite for several years, and I've noticed that it has not only yellowed over time, but its internal spring frame has also begun to sag, so that it can't stand up on its own.  Since I didn't buy it with a frame, I contacted Lastolite to see if a rolling frame was available, and to see if there was something I could do about the internal frame.  I received no response whatsoever.  The Lastolite now sits in my studio, never to be used again.  So this is one of those rare times when I'll encourage you, dear reader, to use one brand over another, simply because of my own experience.  You're welcome to use whatever brand works for you.

Fotodiox has not paid me or given me anything at any discount. 
Their great customer service earned them this very rare plug.


Wait, so that's it for gear?  A camera, a lens, some sheets and a custom light?  Yes, that's all I need, and everything works out just fine.  If I had the luxury of bringing the bike to an all-white 60X40X20 studio with a Cyclorama and hanging lighting, the shoot (and postproduction) may have gone faster, but since I roll at the whim of my clients rather than the other way around, having such a studio would be, ultimately, an immense waste of money.

I also brought a large amount of spare gear in case something went wrong.  But since nothing did, it doesn't seem relevant to this article to mention what spares I had.  Bring spares for the unforeseen, for you will indeed see it one day.  Even if you don't have the money for a spare body, you'd better be bringing some kind of camera to use if you drop your only body*.  If you get caught because you broke something you only own one of, come up with a different way of shooting on the spot.  That's part of your job.  One very important note, though:  DO NOT tell your client about your problem, or it will be held over you forever, even though there's nothing whatsoever wrong with the outcome.  Their impression will be enough to pollute the result.  Don't even tell them you had to bring out your spare camera body.  They will ALWAYS think there's something inferior about what you present to them.  This was a hard-earned lesson for me many years ago, and I've not forgotten it.  You can read about this lesson in my previous post, Why You Shouldn't Tell Your Clients About Your Mistakes.

* - Some people will tell you that you're required to own two of everything, so you can always have spares.  But no matter what your budget is, there will always be something you only have one of.    Don't be intimidated by Internet know-it-alls (including me) telling you how inferior your gear and budget are.  If you have a camera and skill, you'll be just fine.

Next up: Part 2 for the shoot itself.