Road Full of Promise, Head Full of Doubt

Beneath the thick external layer of sarcasm and indifference there exists an even deeper layer of sarcasm and indifference.

Beneath that layer exists this.

One of the many reasons I quit my job was that it would allow me to take risks with my photography. I could leap first and worry about landing later. I would have the freedom to fail. There would always be tomorrow.

Instead I’ve fallen into the familiar and comfortable pattern of scouring the western US for (often inaccurate) forecasts aiming to capture a previsualized image, driving for hours to get to my destination, and then repeating the entire process again, sometimes as soon as the next day.

Waiting three days for the right conditions to materialize seems impossible, but that’s only because I’ve bought into the myth that there are right conditions. There is no such thing as bad light, there are only bad photographers and bad photographs.

I need to start using my eyes more and stop letting my brain get in the way. I need to find creative ways of capturing and communicating the emotion of a scene rather than just recording its literal appearance. I need to start getting uncomfortable. At the very least I need to use the forecasts only as a mechanism for encouraging me to go somewhere and not as an excuse to leave or give up.

There is a cruel trick that my mind likes to play: The more often and (supposedly) competently I do something the more dissatisfied I am with the result. I can fool just about everyone but myself.

When the weather and my stubborn inflexible brain are in alignment and I get the conditions necessary to capture my visualized image, I’m rarely happy with it. I see it as derivative, boring, or falling short of my imagined ideal. The strong emotional high of the experience is dulled by my clumsy attempts to record it. Anyone able to drive 10 hours and be up at 4:30 in the morning at this spot could have gotten the same thing or better. My only talent is endurance. There is nothing exciting or groundbreaking happening here. This isn’t art.

I know that this is (usually) an irrational and emotional position. But it doesn’t matter what I know, it matters how I feel. The human race has been feeling a lot longer than it has been thinking. Bridging that gap for some people is easy. For me, there is no rational way to dig myself out of an emotional hole. I’m too close to it to view it objectively and all I’m left with is how I feel.

So my response has always been to keep moving. To trade the feelings of failure for miles, my current location with a new one, the being here with the getting there and letting the emotional highs of the experience carry me, all while hoping someday to be able to communicate those experiences with photographs, or at least start to be able to fool myself as well as I’ve been fooling everyone else.

Note that this isn’t a cry for help or a solicitation for sympathy or encouragement. This is just meant to provide insight into my thought process. Reading it again it sounds depressing as hell (and it is!), but my frustration is only in translating my experiences into equivalent photographs. If I didn’t enjoy the experiences I wouldn’t be doing it. I’ve seen many awesome spectacles of nature the past two years and I am extremely grateful for having that opportunity. I’m just hoping the photographs will catch up (once in awhile they do, not has often as I would like). I don’t really believe that anyone who is completely happy with what they are doing or where they are at can actually make any progress or produce anything of value. Struggle is part of it. Without the lows there are no highs, there’s just mediocrity.

Being Topical

Owning a camera doesn’t make you a photographer any more than owning a typewriter makes you a novelist.

Sorry about that, let me use an example from the current century…

Owning a camera doesn’t make you a photographer any more than owning a baseball makes you Nolan Ryan.

Damn missed again. OK, one more try….

Owning a camera doesn’t make you a photographer any more than having a blog makes people care what you write.

There we go!

My Camera Isn’t Good Enough

There’s a joke I like to make:

“The reason I buy an expensive cameras, lenses, filters, tripods, and other gear is simple: so that when I’m out in the field and fail to capture a compelling image, I can lay the blame solely where it belongs… on mother nature!”

I have a shorter version that goes like this:

“Cameras suck!”

They’re both true.

I have a Canon 5D Mark II camera. I’ve owned this camera (or rather a version of it – I now have two) since December 2008. It’s by far the best camera I have ever owned. It’s arguably the best camera for landscape photography that Canon makes.

It’s also not good enough.

I use four criteria when evaluating any camera:

  1. Physical design, durability, and reliability
  2. Usability
  3. Quality
  4. Features

The first two categories are annoyances. They don’t prevent images from being captured, they just make the process more tedious. The last two categories do make images (of acceptable quality) impossible to capture, place limits on photographer creativity, and also happen to affect every single camera on Earth. As such they’re a larger topic and I’ll cover them in a separate post.

I started off whining about my beloved Canon 5D Mark II so let me start doing that again. Note that the reference for all of these complaints is natural landscape photography, which for me means natural light, on a tripod, using manual focus (so I will completely ignore any issues with external flashes, image stabilization, or autofocus).

Physical design, durability, and reliability

The Canon 5D Mark II is not (nor does it claim to be) a weather-sealed camera. It suffers from large temperature variances (which cause condensation to form inside the camera) and external moisture (from rain, snow, or waterfall spray). Both these sources of moisture break the electronics of the camera, sometimes permanently.

Temperature variances can be accommodated by placing a ziplocked bag around the camera (and lenses) so that they adjust to the ambient air temperature without condensation. Rain and spray can be mitigated as well (using plastic bags, rain covers, and other inconveniences), but this threat cannot be eliminated completely unless you choose to never photograph in the rain, snow, or near waterfalls.

This camera demands to be babied. Living in the Pacific Northwest, I shoot in heavy rain and waterfall spray all the time. I’ve had my camera go out of commission several times due to external moisture issues, this is even after covering it up when I wasn’t shooting. A camera body shouldn’t need to be as large and heavy as a 1D in order to be weather sealed. Given the number of professionals that shoot with this body the lack of weather sealing is a real issue. I know I treat my gear harder than just about everyone, but that’s because I’m more worried about capturing a compelling image than hoping my camera can survive a little temporary spray from a waterfall.

To be fair, I have used the camera in temperatures ranging from -15F to 122F and it had no problems performing in those extreme temperatures. But add a little water to the mix and watch out.

Usability

There is no shortage of usability issues with this camera, most of which could be fixed with software updates. Here are some that come to mind.

  • Exposure bracketing. Currently you can bracket three exposures. 99% of the time that’s one exposure more than I need to capture sufficient dynamic range. This means that I either take a third wasteful exposure or that I use manual and adjust the shutter speed between each paired set of exposures. Dumb! Just let me bracket two exposures (better yet, let me bracket an arbitrary number of exposures). Also we should be able to bracket an arbitrary distance between exposures, not just up to two stops.
  • Exposure compensation. Currently you can set the exposure compensation to +/- 2 stops (the Canon 1D series supports +/- 3 stops). There are times when I want to use exposure compensation more than two stops, so why not allow it? Why have a fixed number line at all? As I scroll to the left of -2, -3 should show up, as I keep scrolling, -4 should show up (and likewise when compensating in the opposite direction). Exposure arithmetic is fun, but not that fun.
  • I realize that some people like that fat dial for switching between Av, Tv, M, and Bulb exposure modes. But it is extremely rare that I iterate between exposure modes on the same shoot (one of the main reasons I do this is when going from M to Bulb, and that’s because of another usability stupidity I’ll describe next). I do often switch from horizontal to vertical orientation, doing this will often cause the dial to flip from Av to Tv. It would be good if there was a custom function to disable this dial and set in the camera. I would actually be fine if the dial was gone altogether, but I’m likely in the minority.
  • Limiting in camera exposures to 30 seconds. This really doesn’t make sense. I would like to be able to exposures of any length in the camera without requiring an intervalometer. Other intervalometer features should be supported in camera as well (including delays between the first exposure, delays between each exposure, duration of each exposure, and number of exposures). For any exposure that needs to be over 30 seconds, I’m again forced to do exposure arithmetic and need an intervalometer or remote switch.
  • I should be able to use the LCD screen (and related functions) when the camera is in the middle of an exposure (this is most often needed when shooting a long series of exposures at night, it would be good to check that, say, the lens hasn’t fogged up or something else stupid has happened when you’re devoting 2 hours to a shot).
  • Disable mirror lockup automatically when the camera is in the Bulb exposure mode, or at least have a custom function to enable that behavior. There’s nothing quite as awesome as waiting 4 minutes for an exposure to finish when you realize all you did was flip the mirror.
  • The exposure mode should be viewable in the viewfinder, as should the focal length and focus distance.

Those are all things that annoy me about my specific camera, they’re all fairly minor and they’re all within the realms of current technology to fix (and could all be addressed with the Canon 5D Mark III).

There are other feature and quality issues that affect every camera, many of which aren’t going to be addressed within the next 15 years let alone the next camera release, and I’ll get to those in a future post.

Previsualizing Yourself Into A Corner

Within photography circles there is a lot of talk about previsualization – the idea of forming a concept of an image before you even step into the field. Previsualization is almost universally lauded as a technique that you can use to improve your photography. Previsualization can involve all aspects of the finalized image, including concrete elements like composition, subject matter, light, and color to more subjective elements such as mood, drama, and atmosphere.

For natural landscape photography, previsualization isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Previsualization, alone, can actually make your photographs worse.

Photographing nature is a double-edged sword. You are at the mercy of forces which are largely unpredictable. With scouting, increased knowledge of your subject, knowledge of seasonal and current weather patterns, and experience you can increase predictability but only to a degree. Nature will often not behave as you would like, but it can also present you with amazing opportunities that you did not anticipate.

If you have a previsualized image in mind, you need to be able to abandon it with extreme prejudice if the conditions are not right. You should never settle for a subpar previsualized image when there is a good non previsualized image just around the corner. Flexibility and the ability to adapt are skills that are just as useful as any amount of previsualization.

This is not to say that previsualization is a bad technique. In fact I always start off with previsualization.

When I previsualize an image, I’m mostly concerned with subject matter and light. Usually I don’t worry about compositions, I can find those when I’m in the field. I have a long and growing list of images I’d like to try, some of them work in overcast light, some with no cloud cover, some with backlit or frontlit clouds, some with fog, some with the moon as a subject, some with the moon as the primary light source, some at night with no moon (moving stars, static stars), some with long shutter speeds, and some with narrow depth of field. The previsualized images vary in their degree of specificity, some are highly specific and may take years to fulfill (star trails over Upper Yosemite falls with a moonbow), and some are more general (mountain reflection with alpenglow and wildflowers along the shoreline).

Having a long and growing list of previsualized images, many of which work for different lighting conditions, is good way to mitigate risk if the light turns out differently than you anticipate. There are times however when nothing that you previsualized will work. Your anticipated subject may be in front of you but the epic light is ninety degrees away.

At this point you can either settle for a crappy version of your previsualized image or start looking for something else. That something else may have the same subject, but with a different mood or light, or may involve a completely different subject altogether.

There is risk involved with abandoning your previsualized image. You may very well end up with a mediocre image (or no image at all). Often the risk will pay off and you will come back with something that’s much better than your previsualized image. In some instances, your new non previsualized image may not be any good, but may give you ideas for a future image that would work with slightly modified conditions (many of the images in my previsualization list are actually the result of non-previsualized images that didn’t work out).

You are allowed to take credit for non previsualized images. Just because the seeds to germinate an image were sown by forces outside of your control and not your brain months before you pressed the shutter doesn’t invalidate the result. Some images are best created from the bottom up (by adapting to available conditions) rather than top down in your head.

The goal should always be to create great images. How you get there may be interesting but is ultimately irrelevant. The image will stand on its own or it won’t. By limiting the paths you take to creating a great image, you’re also limiting the number of great images that you take.

HDR Sucks

OK, that’s not true.

HDR doesn’t suck, tone-mapping sucks!

OK, that’s not exactly true either. Tone-mapping usually sucks. It’s rarely true that a technique always sucks outright. There’s a time and a place for everything, just like bagpipes have their place in music, tone-mapping has its place in realistic natural landscape photography. A very very small place.

HDR is a general concept: a means of achieving a greater dynamic range in your image than what your camera sensor can capture with a single exposure. Tone-mapping is one way to achieve this. Manual exposure blending is another. Today HDR and tone-mapping have become synonymous, but HDR can be accomplished with a wide variety of techniques. Tone-mapping just happens to be the worst one.

There are times when tone-mapping makes sense such as for surrealistic or pseudo-realistic landscapes, architecture/interior shots, or any shot where the traditional tone-mapping defects (halos, ghosting, softness, over-saturation) are actually desired. Those are typically not attributes one wants for realistic natural landscapes. My issue with tone-mapping for realistic natural landscapes isn’t just with the current implementations (e.g., Photomatix), which will likely improve over time and get rid of those defects, it’s the concept itself.

With tone-mapping you’re taking multiple pixel values and averaging them. This is almost never what you want. Taking an example with two exposures, you usually want pixel values from one or the other, not an average. What that average ends up being is dependent on whether you’re using a local or global-contrast tone-mapping algorithm, and whatever knobs and levers your tone-mapping program provides, but ultimately you’re deferring that choice to the algorithm. The only place it sometimes makes sense to have an average is where the two exposures meet.

Worse yet are those who do this when the dynamic range fits entirely within a single exposure. They become so used to cranking images through the tone-mapping grinder that they don’t realize when it’s time to turn off the machine. If your post-processing technique has no variance and could be replaced with an automated script, it either means all of your photos are the same or you’re not playing enough of a role in deciding how they should look after they come out of the camera. Neither is very artistic, is it? Instead of spending 5 minutes waiting for that HDR merge to finish, spend 5 minutes thinking exactly how you want each part of the final image to look and learn how to get it there.

Now some can use tone-mapping in a subtle way such that it’s hard to tell they used it at all. This is fine – and better than the way most people use it – but what’s the point? You can almost always achieve the same effects without tone-mapping and take less time to get there.

All of this is why I prefer to manually blend exposures. Well, I actually prefer not to have to blend exposures (and usually I don’t have to). In the cases when I do need to blend exposures, the overwhelming majority of the time I can get all the dynamic range I need with just two exposures. Using manual selections allows me to decide what exposure is used on each area of the image. It’s also no more difficult (after a time) and in fact can be done faster than tone-mapping which often takes forever even on a fast computer. Exposure blending can also be used for more than increasing dynamic range too (for instance, increasing depth of field by blending exposures with different focus points; blending two exposures with different ISOs, one to stop motion, the other to reduce noise; blending the same composition taken at two points in time, and many other ways).

So I prefer HDR if done by manual exposure blending, and almost never if done by tone-mapping. The tone-mapping algorithms will get better (and will likely use a combination of heuristics and pixel-choosing rather than pixel-averaging and fix the obvious defects of current implementations), but I haven’t seen anything yet that produces better results than manual exposure blends. I used to use Photomatix and tone-mapping, but found I could achieve better results without it, and haven’t used it in the last few years at all.

And while we’re on the subject, the notion that there has to be “detail” everywhere in a photo, and that all shadows are evil, needs to go away. It’s OK if part of the image falls off the left of the histogram, and, I know it’s heresy, but it’s also OK if some of the channels are blown out to the right of the histogram too, depending on the situation.

It’s also OK to use tone-mapping for natural realistic landscapes. Sometimes. But make sure you’re doing it for conscious artistic reasons and not just out of habit.

Don’t Restrict Me

“What’s riches to you, just ain’t riches to me” — Lyle Lovett

Some choices in life are difficult.

Leaving a well paying job (and a significant amount of future stock compensation) after almost seven years to take an indefinite time off was an easy choice to make. The hard part was figuring out that I had a choice to begin with.

We live our life according to a well defined script without realizing that we have the ability to rewrite it. Part of that script says that you work when you are young and enjoy the fruits of your labor when you are retired. This also happens to be the time when you’re old (possibly dead!) and most likely to be suffering from illness, lack of mobility, diminished mental faculties, and a general cynicism and bad attitude that can only come with a lifetime of soul-crushing morale-busting work.

Constantly trading today for tomorrow doesn’t make sense. Your time is the most precious and fleeting commodity there is. The world doesn’t just punish assholes, it punishes everyone, indiscriminately, and you never know when you’re next. When, not if, your name is called you will value your friends, your family and your experiences, not your possessions and certainly not your salary and not your career.

Of course it’s not always that simple.

You do need at least some money, at minimum enough for food and shelter (less than you think if you only keep the things that are really important). If you live in a less evolved country, you need enough for health insurance. You may have debts (credit, mortgage, car loans, student loans) that need to be paid. You may need to keep employment for visa related reasons. You may have a spouse and kids that depend on you for their livelihood (in that case, all bets are off, but you knew that going in). This doesn’t make temporary retirement impossible, just harder.

The other reason to avoid temporary retirement is if you actually truly enjoy and love your job. These people do exist in nature, but they’re a rare and elusive bunch.

I have no wife, no children, and no debt. My earnings have always outpaced my spending. I have absolute confidence I could get a job tomorrow of equal or higher compensation than the one I left.

I’m extremely fortunate to be in this situation. I know this. There are people who are smarter, work harder, work longer, and deserve more. As much as I would like to take credit for all of it, I know I’m the beneficiary of luck, timing, and opportunity. I may just as well take credit for picking a winning lottery ticket.

So I’m fortunate to be able to take time off. But I’ve been able to do this for awhile. The epiphany to make use of this good fortune didn’t happen overnight, but was the result of the gradual accumulation of two forces, one repulsive and one attractive.

The repulsive force was the work itself.

I used to love to program. I still do. It might be the only true talent I have. You start off with a complex problem and eventually come up with a design or implementation that solves it. Sometimes the route is surprisingly direct and sometimes you have to polish a turd until it shines, but ultimately you get there. At its best there is nothing between you and the problem you’re trying to solve. It’s actually very similar to photography, you have to have the creativity to visualize and solve the problem in an elegant way, but also the technical skills to turn that vision into a tangible entity.

Eventually, the problems all seemed to be the same, were easy to solve, or were uninteresting. More and more of my job was dedicated to things that I may have been good at but certainly didn’t enjoy doing. Getting consensus on anything took forever. Layers of bureaucracy were only increasing and were seen as progress. Communicating with other teams was tedious and time-consuming. Pragmatism was in short supply, egos and arrogance weren’t. It never felt like I could gather any momentum. The only way to break through the quicksand required a level of effort that I was willing to give earlier in my career but at sacrifice to my life outside work. I wasn’t going to do that again. My heart was no longer in it. Some people noticed, most didn’t.

The other issue with my job was having to be on-call. I don’t mind putting in extra hours if the situation calls for it. I do mind having a virtual leash tied around my neck that limits my ability to do things on weekends, at night, or (for secondary on-call) prevents me from taking a weekday off (or even exchanging it for a weekend day). This leash began to grate more and more, even though it was never more than 10-15 weeks a year. I had to stick around town when the forecast was calling me to the mountains. I hated it.

It became obvious that I needed to leave, but I still had the option of switching teams (exchanging a set of known problems with a set of unknown problems and hoping they weren’t as severe), or switching companies with the same caveats.

This is where the attractive force comes in.

I began, after many years, to finally take vacations longer than a day or two. The first was a 10-day trip to the southwest in late summer (Arches, Canyonlands, Bryce Canyon, Zion, Antelope Canyon, and Grand Canyon). This was followed by a two-week autumn trip to Yellowstone, Grand Teton, and Death Valley. Two separate one week trips to Yosemite in winter and spring. A one week trip to Zion in autumn.

With each successive trip it became harder and harder to come back to work. I started to realize that I was able to reach the same level of happiness I formerly was able to get programming by being on the road, traveling, being out in nature, and with varying degrees of success capturing those experiences with my camera. In the last two years I’ve put 60,000 miles (almost 100,000 km) on my car, but less than 25% of those were on those long vacations, the rest were on crazy weekend or day trips (some on weekdays before work). These experiences were worth more than my salary. I was willing to sacrifice any amount of sleep and comfort to accumulate them.

The thought of waiting 35 years until retirement before I could do this uninterrupted was unbearable. It soon became difficult to fathom waiting even six more months for another stock vest to come in.

I did the math. With no changes in my free spending ways and with some padding I could last 18 months. With a few small sacrifices I could last quite a bit longer.

Not only will be I be able to travel and photograph, but I’ll be able to not travel and not photograph without feeling like I’m blowing an opportunity. I will no longer have to do 500 mile day trips to get back to work on time. My friends and family will start to recognize me again (right now that seems like a good thing, check back in six months).

When I’m done with my temporary hiatus, I can go back to the workforce writing software with new energy and new focus. Or do something else. It doesn’t matter, that decision won’t have to be made for awhile.

In the last month since I’ve quit my job the decision has already paid for itself, with the currency of experiences and not dollars.

Which is truly more valuable?

Once more, this time with feeling

It’s that time of the year again: that time when I feel like starting a blog. Soon, I’m sure, will be that other equally common time of the year: that time when I stop updating it. After that it’s usually a few months before I remove it completely and just redirect to my photo gallery.

But for now, it’s here, and I have an irrational optimism that it will finally stick this time.

At least until October.