Oregon

This spring has been chock-full of kids' sports, so I haven't had much time for photography or blogging. To keep the blog alive in my mind, I feel like I need to post something, though. Every couple years, we try to visit relatives on the Oregon Coast. This area is very special to me; it was always a favorite destination as a kid and I now love being able to share it with my wife and kids. We all love quiet beaches, rugged coastline, and a lifestyle that somehow feels more real than our suburban hubbub. I remember taking pictures on the Oregon beach as a kid and now find that it's one of my favorite places to shoot. Below you'll find a few of my favorite Oregon shots from the past couple years. Enjoy!

Ode to Assymetry

I once heard a photo contest judge say that images of symmetric subjects MUST be completely symmetric.  This makes a lot of sense - when the subject of your image is a building facade or the interior of a church, the primary subject is not so much the building, but the lines and the symmetry therein.  Thus, if the vanishing point is not in the middle or there is an imbalance within the composition, these flaws become obvious as the symmetry of the entire image falls apart.   Of course, that only applies to subjects which are completely symmetric.  Photos which highlight an asymmetry within the subject can be very compelling - think a house one window shade drawn or a person disrupting what would otherwise be a highly symmetric scene.

Architectural details don't require symmetry

I have found capturing such perfect symmetry in building facades to be more challenging than I'd anticipated.  I can position myself such that all edges and corners seem square and the center of the scene appears to be at the center of my frame, yet when I post-process the image, I find that the edges aren't square or I can't get the subject centered without an imbalance on the sides.

Having been only partially successful at capturing architecture, I have come to the subject with some trepidation.  In part, this has led to my focus (ha! photography pun!) on architectural details for which symmetry isn't necessarily important.

A recent visit to Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles was therefore a bit of a revelation. Not only does this Frank Gehry building not have a symmetric facade, it hardly has any straight lines! Without the pressure of trying to accurately position myself to within a couple inches, I found that I could shoot much more freely.  I also brought only my 10mm-20mm lens to force myself to learn how to use it, and it ended up being perfect for the subject.  Any longer lens and I think I'd have been frustrated by the narrower field of view.

Chickens and Eggs

Chickens and eggs. Nature vs. nurture. There are many metaphors for interrelated events for which cause and effect are difficult to ascertain.  A recent discussion with a friend made me realize that such philosophical questions also extend to photography.

On a chilly March morning, I went shooting at Arlington Cemetery with a friend, Glenn Cook, when we began discussing full-frame cameras vs. crop-sensor cameras.

[Here's some technical background to get everyone on the same page.

For those unfamiliar with the terms, they refer to the different physical sizes of the sensors inside the cameras.  Higher-end digital SLRs have "full-frame" sensors which are the same size as 35mm film negatives.  Presumably to save money, mid-grade and lower-end digital SLRs have what are often called crop-frame sensors (or APS).  These sensors vary somewhat by manufacturer but are typically around 2/3 the size of a full-frame sensor.   

The different sensor sizes affect the camera's angular field of view for a given lens.  This is most easily (and somewhat simplistically) imagined as a digital zoom.  Imagine you take a picture, crop the middle 2/3 of the original image, then blow up the cropped image so that it is the same size as the original.  You now have 2 images that are the same size with the second being a subset of the first.  What I just described in the digital realm is pretty similar to what happens inside the camera to differentiate between the full-frame (initial image) and APS (cropped image) sensor.  The smaller sensor yields a narrower field of view, but since the images are presented the same size, the effect is that of an extra zoom factor.  For this reason, crop-sensor cameras/lens combinations are often described as having "35mm-equivalent" focal length which is roughly 50% larger than the physical focal length of the lens (focal length determines the zoom power and field-of-view of the lens). 

Wikipedia has a couple good visuals here and here. 

[And now back to the story]

Being a real photographer, my friend has higher-end gear than I do, including a full-frame Canon. While we were walking, he made the comment that switching to a full-frame camera leads a photographer to have to relearn how to compose pictures to account for the increase in field-of-view (FOV) provided by the larger sensor.  The difference can be quite drastic; online FOV calculators indicate that Glenn's full-frame camera with his 24mm zoom lens has an FOV of roughly 74 degrees, compared to 46 degrees for my crop-sensor Nikon with a 28mm zoom (equivalent to about 42mm).
Below are my shot (top) and Glenn's shot (bottom).  The difference in field-of-view and perspective is quite stark.

Glenn's comment about needing to relearn composition made me wonder whether photographers tend to acquire gear that fits their style, or whether their style evolves based on their gear.  I assume it's a bit of both, but varies with style and photographer.  Some styles, such as landscape and portraiture likely lead to specific equipment purchases, particular for professionals.  Budget, too, is a likely factor - some photographers are bargain hunters whose gear is shaped by what they've found used, while others have the wherewithal to purchase whatever lenses or camera bodies suit their wants.

I started photography with my dad's old Minolta SRT-101 film camera with a couple lenses (I seem to recall a 50mm and a 28mm-70mm) and later purchased a used 70mm-200mm and a used 400mm (once I started shooting sports in college).  My style has always been texture-heavy black-and-white, but that's something that can be captured with either wide or narrow fields of view and wouldn't necessarily lead me toward a specific type of lens.

I like the "up close and personal" photos
afforded by my longer lens

Since I've started replacing my DSLR kit lenses with better-quality glass, I find that I tend toward faster, longer lenses primarily in order to capture my kids' sporting events.  At the same time, I've found that I enjoy shooting architectural detail, particularly with interesting perspectives.  I suspect that the interest in architectural detail has arisen because a) it is consistent with my life-long B&W style, and b) such photographs are well-suited to the long lenses that I bought for kids' sports.  The zoom ability lets me capture details and perspectives that differ from what we usually notice in our day-to-day lives.

Long lenses also work well for
interesting perspectives

So is it a chicken or an egg?  Nature or nurture? As I think about it, I realize that I actually have a bit of a dichotomy in my photography that leads to a gear/style cycle.  I have specifically purchased gear (my 80mm-200mm f/2.8) to support a desired type of photography (kids' sports), but the presence of this lens in my bag has influenced at least some of my more "artistic" styles as well.  Perhaps that'll change in 10-15 years and my photography budget is (hopefully) larger and my shooting less opportunistic.

What's the point? (hint: it's partially you)

Blogging - a window into the creative
process (sorry about the pun)

My wife recently asked me why I decided to blog, who my intended audience was, and what I hoped to get out of the blogging process.

Perhaps not surprising given my subject matter, my ultimate goal is to become a better photographer. So what does that have to do with this blog?

As I rediscover photography and try to wrap my mind around the complexities of digital photography, I end up with observations and half-formed ideas rolling around in the back of my mind.  The process of putting those thoughts on proverbial paper helps me solidify those vague ideas and start to turn observations into concepts.  In essence, blogging is (hopefully) a step in a process whereby observations are formed into problems (or ideas) that can be solved (or implemented) to try to improve my photography.

I've therefore addressed the "why", but careful readers will notice that I've skipped my wife's second question - who is my intended audience. As I just alluded to, I would probably get a lot of the same benefit if this was private journal instead of a blog.  So, why publish?  I'm doing this in hopes of starting a discussion and getting feedback.  I'm not pretending to state any hard facts, just presenting my own observations and thoughts.  I would love to have readers engage in the comment section - start a discussion about what I got right or wrong; tell me I'm full of it; add your two cents; etc.  I know a lot of my meanderings thus far have been a bit on the technical side, but I absolutely welcome feedback from photographers and non-photographers alike.

Black and White in the Digital Age

I began to seriously get into photography via black-and-white film in the 1990s.  I got to know the look and feel of various types of film and photo paper, such as Pan-X vs. Tri-X and Gloss vs. Matte.

Adobe Lightroom B&W Sliders

Now that I'm working in the digital realm, I shoot color RAW and convert to black and white in post-processing. I very much enjoy the control that Adobe Lightroom provides over the color-to-B&W conversion.  In addition to being able to control the contributions of various color regions, I appreciate the brightness curves and sliders that let me separately control the various shades of grey.

Despite (or maybe because of) this level of control, I've had trouble achieving on displays the look that I was used to with film and paper. I attribute this primarily to the variability of display brightness and the contrast ratios of LED displays - as the brightness is changed, the white level obviously changes.  How such changes affect other display properties can be calibrated using an external feedback device such as a ColorMunki.  I guess the old-school analogy is looking at a black-and-white print in a variety of lighting conditions, from a dimly-lit room to full sunshine.

Regardless of the cause, I've found that the variability in black-and-white tonality across multiple displays makes it difficult to find the "right" look.  This makes me wonder whether the prevalence of digital displays has affected what makes a "good" black and white image.  I see a lot of low-key images and wonder if the exaggerated blacks and in-your-face contrast works best with today's screens.

So, do digital displays favor higher-contrast images or are they just easier to work with in a display medium that doesn't do subtlety?  My tastes certainly seem to run toward more extreme contrast; I find that I'm happiest with my B&W when I set it the way I think it should be, then push the contrast even further.

Griffith Observatory, Los Angeles, CA

Early Satellite models at Smithsonian Udvar-Hazy Center

Iwo Jima Memorial

Hardware and Software

Discussing equipment seems like a requirement for a photography blog, so I might as well get that out of the way.

Current equipment:

• Nikon D5200 APS-C (crop sensor)
• 80-200mm f/2.8 (20-year-old used lens)
• 28-75mm f/2.8
• 55-300mm f/4.5-5.6
• 10-20mm f/4.5-5.6

Almost all of the equipment was purchased used and/or refurbished from B&H.

I use a monopod with the 80-200mm.  It' a heavy lens and has no stability correction, so is pretty unforgiving when it comes to handheld shots.

For software, I use Adobe Lightroom CC.  I have the Google Nik plugins installed, but haven't used them enough to really have a good feel for what they do.  

I'd like to learn Photoshop, but am intimidated by what looks like an incredibly-steep learning curve.

What's in a Name?

I forgot my blog URL (a little embarrassing, but understandable since I've only had it for about 12 hours), so I tried googling "Opportunistic Photographer blog".  What I found was that there have been at least two other blogs with similar names.  I also noticed that these were very short-lived blogs. This is not surprising, as a lack of dedicated time is what leads to "opportunistic photography" and is also detrimental to blogging.

I hope that my effort lasts longer than a month and isn't as fleeting as the rabbit in the picture below (that was my first attempt at embedded a picture from my 500px page)