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.