Undo-it-yourself
October 8, 2009
Paul hesitated. “Do you really need the stands for these pieces?” he asked, “I think they’d be more effective if I shot them on the table…”
So he laid a pate de verre panel down on the sweep instead of the neat metal stand I’d brought. He adjusted the lights, climbed up on a stool to take the shot, and transformed the entire piece. [Read more]
Cooper-Bresson
September 17, 2009
OK, I get street photography, photojournalism, documentary photography, pictorialism, fotografie verité, but here’s a new one: Fotografie felinité.
You’ve probably already heard about him, but a cat named Cooper, living in Seattle, strolls the streets near his home weekly, with a small camera strapped to his neck. It snaps a shot every two seconds; later, the people he owns run through the images, select the ones they like, and publish them on his website for him.
Photos, manipulated
July 10, 2009
I’ve got this huge post on the garage remodel just about ready to go but there’s one more thing to build and one more piece of news I want to mention: The New York Times just pulled a batch of photos from its Sunday magazine upon discovering that they’d been (gasp!) photoshopped.
MAXimum games
April 29, 2009
In Boston, the street signs can only be correctly interpreted by natives, as in “if you don’t already know where it is, we sure as heck ain’t gonna tell ya.” It’s about the only place I know that puts the directions AFTER the turn-off, so that the sign really says “ya shoulda turned back there…”
In Portland, they do much the same thing, only they call it the MAX. That’s Portland’s commuter train system and we’re having a kind of love-hate relationship.
Now, I love trains. To be able to ride MAX I’ll put up with its really horrible signage, lackadaisical ticketing (MAX is losing money and I suspect it’s because they use the honor system instead of turnstyles and conductors) and really confusing scheduling. Why? The people.
Guessing game
April 26, 2009
OK. For a free drink during BEcon (or whenever you get to glassland and can get me to hold still for 15 minutes), what the heck is this?
Tulip hoppin’
April 21, 2009
Somewhere there’s a list entitled “No-brainer photo opps,” and giant tulip fields are surely on it. (And nope, I did not TOUCH the saturation settings on the above photo. That’s the way it looked.)
Kat and I spent Sunday morning wandering the fields of Wooden Shoe Tulip Farms south of Portland, taking pictures and people-watching. It was a beautiful spring day just begging for a convertible with the top down and the tulips were only an hour away, so off we went. As is usual for me, people-watching probably edged out tulip-shooting…but not by much.
I once bought 900 tulip bulbs (yeah, yeah, but they were on sale) and was thrilled with my purchase until my mom reminded me that the only way to actually watch them bloom was to plant them…one by one. Not being of a gardening persuasion, that was pretty much a bummer which ruined a good manicure, but I’ve had at least a few tulips blooming in the yard ever since.
So I don’t need to drive an hour to see a tulip. On the other hand, I can’t see several thousand of them from my back porch, either, and as gardening folk suggest, massing them does make a difference:
Tulips weren’t the only masses out there–a couple hundred tulip-tiptoers showed up with us. Wooden Shoe Farms lets you tiptoe through the tulips for free, but it costs $10 to park the car and there’s the usual spendy sausage rolls and drinks, anthropomorphic-trams-pulled-by-tractors and funny jumpy-screamy things for the kiddies. About the only bargains are the tulips–3 great bunches for US$12–and we both took home an armful.
I lugged the good camera, tripod and shutter release down the fields (I’ve lost too many great shots to camera shake not to use them), stopping frequently to snap a bloom or catch the inevitable sweep-across-fields-to-Mt.-Hood-on-the-horizon shots. Truth be told I was late to Kat’s house and the light was a tad flat for my tastes by the time we arrived, but I did OK.
Apparently the tripod also makes me look like I know what I’m doing, because two groups stepped over OTHER camera-toting tulip fiends to ask if I’d take group shots of them, with their cameras. 
In return, I got a couple shots in of my own, and got hung up on taking pictures of people taking pictures.
This is Vijaya, whose friend was visiting from Pakistan; I think the two of them in their bright cottons caught as many photographs as the flowers. She asked if I’d shoot a couple of her, sitting in the tulips as her friend didn’t trust herself with their fancy borrowed digital camera.
I said sure, and she plopped down in the middle of the rows. If the mud bothered her, she didn’t let on; she just smiled and I got my shot. Then Kat and I moved on, chasing people and petals.
It was all great fun, and we headed back to the gift shop to track down some parrot tulips, Kat’s favorite. And there was my money shot, ironically NOT of tulips or people:
6n6: Photographers
January 21, 2009
For anyone who says photography is not fine art, take a look at these 12 artists, in no particular order.
6 living
- Annie Liebowitz: I can’t say I always love her stuff, but I’m always moved to think about it.
- Michael Durham: Nature with nothing cute about it
- James Nachtwey: Moving modern social photography to rival Eugene Smith
- Steve McCurry: Remember that fabulous National Geographic cover of the Afghan girl with the piercing eyes? That was him.
- Lisa M. Robinson: She’s relatively new on the scene, but her landscapes are stunning, especially her “Snowbound” series.
- Elliott Erwitt: Pure dry wit as photographic commentary
6 dead
- Weegee (Usher Fellig): Ironic depiction of the human condition
- Edward Weston: The nude (and how much nudes resemble vegetables)
- Edward Steichen: Amazing technique
- Henri Cartier-Bresson: Perfect composition with incredible graphic line
- Fred Holland-Day: As much for his elevation of photography to art as anything else.
- Eugene Smith: Some of the most moving social photography ever shot.
Embrace your inner fuddy-duddy
November 29, 2008
Colleague and I got into a discussion of Annie Leibovitz’ new book, Annie Leibovitz at Work.
If you haven’t read it, you should. It’s both an excellent inspiration for the portrait photographer and a powerful pictorial history of the last 40 years. I’m not always a fan of “behind the scenes with photographer X” books, but first of all, this is Annie Leibovitz we’re talking about, not Joe-I-once-shot-some-celebrities-Jones. Second, the photos are just plain damn fabulous. Third, she’s pretty forthcoming both about the philosophy of her shooting as well as pertinent technical details, which makes me want to grab some faces and start shooting pixels.
Anyway, since Leibovitz is on my top ten photographers of all time list (and possibly also the top five), I pretty much devoured the book…and was kinda brought up short by the rather extensive digital manipulation of Leibovitz’ later shots, particularly her work at Vogue. She’d shoot actors at different times (and sometimes in different cities), then have her digital techs seamlessly stitch the images together and fill in the gaps with still other images, so that Judy Dench appears to be driving at night with a very unhappy Helen Mirren when in reality they were photographed in separate sessions.
Nature upside the head
October 26, 2008
There’s pictures of nature, there’s nature photography and then there’s the work of Michael Durham. Someday, if I keep practicing really hard and the angels finally set up shop behind my eyes instead of only stopping in for a visit every year or two, I’ll grow up to take pictures like this guy.
I’ve never been into all this tramping through the wilderness stuff–very few campsites have room service or high-speed Internet connections–but his stunning images make me want to get out there and see.
Moth
October 22, 2008
Rushing off to work this morning, I saw a silhouette move across the back door. It was a moth, one of those floor-of-the-woods types with the furry wingtips and wings shading themselves against the light.
I grabbed the camera and got off a few quick shots, then, satisfied, I contemplated the moth. No fair to leave her in the house to be eaten by my cat, not when she’d posed so nicely.
I cupped my hand toward her and she fluttered into a panic, beating frantically against the glass, so I backed away. Then I quietly, slowly extended a finger to the glass beside her and held it there. After a minute or so she clambered onto my finger, and calmly sat while I fumbled the door and the screen open and walked outside.
I shook my finger slightly; she didn’t move. I shook it harder, and she sprang from my finger to my cheek. She lingered for just a moment, then flew above the eaves and out of sight.