Photography and Cars: Universal Bonding Agents

Three weeks ago, one of my best friends passed away suddenly. Robert “Bobby” Stuhr was one of those special individuals that enter your life, bore themselves deep into your soul, and your life becomes a memorable ride.

I had met Bobby in Las Vegas at a Pantera club convention many years ago. We both owned one of these semi-exotic sports cars (Italian made with a big American V8 powering it). I was shooting the event for the club and leading some of the driving excursions. Bobby was there having the time of his life – seeing a few hundred Panteras instead of the couple that were on Maui at the time; getting rides on the race track from fellow owners; and drooling over the myriad of parts the vendors had brought to tempt pocket books.

Fast forward to 2001: My wife and I started contemplating moving to Maui, but my car was an integral part of my life. Was I on my own to fix things, or was there someone on island who could work on the more complex parts of the car? Would the car rust out in a matter of years, and God forbid the car need body work, was there a body shop that could be trusted to repair the delicate bodywork without smearing 200 lbs. of Bondo on the car?

I pulled the club’s membership directory from the bookshelf, grabbed the phone and dialed Bobby’s work phone.

“Detective Stuhr,” said the authoritative voice on the other line.

“Uhhh… Hi Robert. Scott Mead from the Pantera Club calling. Gotta minute to talk?” I asked.

The minute was more like an hour. Yes, there’s a guy on island that not only works on his and others’ cars, but he’s restored two Panteras. Someone else had a body shop, and he had previously worked for the largest Pantera dealer in the U.S. No worries – he had painted hundreds of cars. And rust? Well, everything rusts in Hawaii, but if you live away from the ocean (especially Upcountry), keep the car covered in a garage, it’s no worse than most of the rest of the Country.

A few years later, I’m pulling two boxes off the ATA Airlines baggage conveyor at Kahului Airport. My first of many trips I would make, flying back and forth bringing “essentials” to Maui. I climb into the SUV we had sent over and head to the house we had rented the week before. In the empty living room, I open a beach chair, sit down and dial Bobby’s cell number.

“Hey Robert, its Scott. Guess where I am?”

His reply was short and succinct: “You’re coming over for dinner tonight. Here’s how to get here…”

Half an hour later, I’m hopelessly lost in the dark depths of Haiku. I call him and he guides me to his home, where I meet his (then) girlfriend (now wife) and kids and we talked story while sipping beer and he charred a few massive steaks on the barbecue. As the night grew long and we talked about the cars we loved, the inevitable bond and friendship began.

Over the years, we worked on and polished each other’s cars, went on car runs, showed our cars at every opportunity and even formed a Hawaii chapter of the Pantera Owner’s Club of America. Bobby had T-shirts made and we wore them proudly. Everywhere we went, I had my “monster” DSLR camera, while Bobby had his point-and-shoot, each of us capturing the day. A few times, we got the cars together as a group and I’d fill up memory cards, printing a few and threatening to take pictures with us in them.

Up until November eighth, we’d get together whenever we could, though never often enough. Bobby was an investigator for the Maui Police Department, and was on-call 24- hours a day. My photography business had also turned into a seven-day proposition with few weekends off. When our calendars aligned, big horsepower V8s would be fired up and we’d burn copious quantities of high-test fuel with my camera riding shot gun.

One of our favorite runs was a trip up Haleakala Crater. My car was in the body shop for its bare-metal restoration and I was Bobby’s copilot. He carving corners and me hanging the camera out the window getting shots of the other Panteras in front of us.

Last Sunday, we made the same trip up the volcano, but this time, Bobby’s ashes were in the passenger seat of his car. One last run to the crater, gracefully nailing the apexes of the corners, enjoying the clear weather and the sound of the exhaust echoing off the volcano walls.

Back home, I pulled into the garage and let the Pantera idle for a couple of minutes, feeling the “blap-a-doo, blap-a-doo” of the big-cam exhaust reverberate through my body before shutting down the engine. Above, somewhere in the universe, I knew Bobby was looking down with a huge grin on his face, and I could almost hear his voice say, “When do you want to do that again?”

Next weekend is free, and the camera is already in the car. I think Bobby will be there too. He could never pass up a ride to the volcano or shoot some cool cars.

Aloha o’e, my friend.

Reinventing the Wheel

Yesterday, I opened up the following email:

“Aloha Scott, I have a question for you. Did you:

A) Win the lotto and disappear
B) Get lost in your studio
C) Go off on a humongous photo adventure
D) Fall off the face of the earth

I’m assuming something happened, since your blog has been covered in spider webs for months. What’s up?”

The Answer is E) none of the above. For the past few months, I’ve been engrossed in the one thing my grandfather told me NEVER to do: Reinvent the wheel.

One of the beauties of nature photography is that it gives us a chance to explore not only our environment, but our inner self as well. It gives us an opportunity to be not only creative, but inventive. It lets us explore the boundaries of what we are “told” photography should be, or better yet, forge into new and uncharted waters.

In essence, reinvent the wheel.

For the past seven months, I’ve been playing in the studio; perfecting Paintography ® to the point my wife has accused me of having an affair with my Wacom digital tablet. I like to think of this technique as the offspring of photography and oil painting - a hybrid where portions of the image remain untouched, while the rest receives days of digital painting.

I’ve spent days pouring over thousands of images in my collection, many of which I deemed long ago to be good images, but not earth shattering. But after spending a few days applying digital brush, an incredible transformation takes place, making a once overlooked image into an incredible hybrid, and what I’ve been told by other artists to be a new art form. I call it the result of insomnia mixed with Kona coffee!

But this reinvention has also been applied to my “Little Me,” or what I call my inner self. Some may call it a mid-life crisis, others saying the kid has finally grown up. And while my family calls it a revelation, friends say I’m frikkin’ nutz. The premise is simple: For once, “I” come before the image.

I’ve been known for “taking unreasonable risks” (read being stupid) when it comes to getting “the” shot – going to the extreme measures without safety equipment or hanging by a tree limb on a cliff edge for a shot, and my medical chart (now on volume III) tells the story: Broken this, sprained that, herniated discs and physical therapists that know when I walk through the door, they’ve got their work cut out for them. I even earned the nick name, Tumble Bear, from a group of buddies.

That’s not to say that I’m gonna wimp out on my shooting. It means that I’m (finally) taking my well being into account. I now carry a ladder, rope, straps, gloves and other paraphernalia that allows me to get great shots without the added expense of Band-Aids or ice packs.

Now when I come home after a day of shooting, I can relax on the couch, sipping a beer while my cards are downloading without having to explain to the Wife how I managed to dislocate a finger.

Who woulda thunk reinventing the wheel could be so great?

What Dreams Can Tell Us

So there I was, hiking along the King’s Highway, a trail that takes you from Hana Bay past Waianapanapa. The surf’s getting big, crashing into the weathered lava cliffs and spraying more than 120 feet in the air. I leave the trail and look for a good spot to shoot the water, cliffs and spray, and lo and behold, there’s a small perch with just enough space for me and a tripod with the perfect view, except there was no easy way to get to it.

I bayonet my 16-35mm f/2.8 lens on the Canon 5D MARK II, attach the camera to the tripod and leave the pack behind to begin slithering down the rocky slope. Half way down, I realize the situation isn’t good. The next ledge is about six feet away, and where I am now, getting back up to the trail will be a big challenge. In my haste leaving the pack behind, I’ve also abandoned my water, energy bars and cell phone. Literally stuck between a rock and a hard place, I decide to go for the next ledge, deciding that jumping down would be safer than dragging my butt along the sharp lava.

Leaping for shelf, my left leg slips, and instead of a straight descent, I tumble forward towards the rocks. Letting go of the tripod, I hear the crunch of plastic as the camera bounces off of the lava. Time slows to a snails pace as I see sky, then lava, then water. After what feels like an eternity, I hit the ledge and hear something snap. Instantly, I know I’ve broken something, but I feel no pain. All I see is darkness closing in as I reach for a handhold.

A moment later, I realize I’m in bed, drenched in sweat and I’ve completely ripped the sheets from the mattress. How much garlic did I consume last night to cause such a nightmare?

I’m a firm believer that dreams are our way of telling us something, and this one was filled with potential messages:

1. Stay on the Trail. Yes, there are beautiful vistas found off the beaten path, but it’s the path people will take to look for you if you don’t return when you’re supposed to.

2. Always keep a communication device on you, whether it be a cell phone or an emergency GPS transmitter.

3. If you have to abandon gear because of weight, don’t sacrifice food or water.

4. Try to hike with a friend. If you have to go alone, be sure to let someone know where you are going and when you expect to return.

5. Before trekking to an unknown location, survey the area. If it looks like a difficult hike down, it’ll only be more difficult getting back up.

6. Ease up on the garlic intake, Scott!

Twenty Things I’ve Learned Shooting Pictures

1. The moment you swap out a memory card, a Humpback Whale will breach right in front of you.

2. The more difficult the terrain is, the better view will be on the other side.

3. There are three words that will always keep your images safe: backup, backup and backup.

4. If the gas gauge on your truck doesn’t work, never trust your odometer to know when you’re almost out of fuel… unless you want to run out of gas on a trail and miles away from a gas station.

5. Failure to clean your gear will almost always guarantee numerous hours of Photoshop touch ups.

6. An overcast day is not a reason to dismiss the use sunscreen.

7. Forget the dog. A Leatherman Tool is a photographer’s best friend.

8. Having the most expensive camera and lenses will not guarantee you get the best pictures.

9. Ask 20 photographers to shoot the same subject, and you will get 20 totally different images.

10. Every camera bag should come with Band Aids, Imodium, Duct Tape and Ibuprofen standard, though not often used in that order.

11. Swapping out lenses on a windy beach will only ensure that half the beach will end up inside your camera.

12. It’s not a matter of if the hard drive with your images will fail, but when.

13. Film is not dead, otherwise I’d be too.

14. Whenever possible, shoot with a buddy. Life is too short not to have fun photographing with a friend.

15. Invest in good foot wear. The cheap stuff melts quickly when walking over active lava tubes.

16. Care for, and appreciate what you have. It might be gone sooner than you think.

17. Five minutes of getting it right in the camera will save you hours in Photoshop.

18. Share what you know with others, for it’d be a shame to let a lifetime of knowledge die with you.

19. Never take a laxative and Benadryl before climbing into a sleeping bag.

20. Satisfaction in your work is an invitation for stagnation. Keep learning, keep experimenting, and love what you do.

Waiting is the Hardest Part

I had wanted to shoot a particular taro patch in Keanea for a long time. Not a few days or weeks. We’re talking months, as in 38. Yep, for over three years, I’ve been driving past this particular taro patch, while on my way the Hana. Every time I pass by, I keep telling myself, “I’m gonna shoot that next time out.” The next time would come, and I’d drive right by.

So the other day, I set out to Hana with the full intention of making good on the three-year desire. However, there was one small problem. Rain. Not just little drop rain or steady rain. We’re talking build-an-ark style.

We have a saying here on Maui: If it’s raining, just drive for 10 minutes and it won’t be. In this case, I wasn’t going to drive an inch. I wanted to shoot HERE and NOW. So I figured I’d just wait it out. Twenty minutes later, Mother Nature adds wind to the equation.

Ugh.

No problem. I’ve waited out weather before. And besides, I come prepared: I open a bag of dried mango, crack open a bottle of water and crank on the iPod. Call it fate, coincidence or The Man upstairs messing with me, but the speakers were soon booming to Tom Petty crooning, “The waiting is the hardest part…”

How true those lyrics can be. But as a photographer, waiting is a good thing. It teaches us to be patient with nature and light. It’s also one of the hardest things to teach to someone. At a recent workshop, I had a student that was immersed in “the moment.” Waiting for the sunset, he was content to shoot in harsh light – harsh shadows and blown-out highlights be damned. Everyone else took my advice to wait for sweeter light, taking the time to steak out their little bit of real estate.

The sun dipped lower to the ocean, the light became softer and soon there was a symphony of beeping focus confirmations and the clicking of shutters. We had almost a half an hour of golden light to shoot by, the colors of the sky changing each moment. The sun dipped below the horizon, the lone dissident was ready to pack up and leave, but as the sun faded away, the rest of the group continued to click away as the light in the sky changed from orange to pink to red. With darkness falling, we hiked back to the parking lot, and we downloaded images onto laptops.

At dinner that night, we went through our best shots. Everyone had a host of “keepers,” with the best shots coming just as twilight began. The impatient fellow in the group was obviously disappointed in his results, but it gave me the opportunity to drive a point home: shooting just to shoot will only get you a picture, but having the patience to capture a great image will speak volumes of a story. Plus it can make the difference between a good shot or an incredible shot.

Patience grasshopper. Patience is a virtue.

Pay it Forward

This past weekend under the Banyan Tree, a freshly minted college grad stopped by my booth. Chris, it turns out, is a budding photographer and a bonafide car guy – two qualities I rarely see in combination.

Okay, so I know there are a few of you out there that are hastily typing me an email saying, “Hey Scott, I like cars and I like taking pictures of them, and so do my friends. There’s a lot of us out here!” to which I reply, “Yes, there are a lot of people in the world who like cars and photography, but most are picture takers and car lovers.

The difference is a deeply-rooted passion for both subjects. Chris has the passions. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice and the body language spoke volumes.

As we talked story, I could tell we were two peas from the same pod: we could spit out car and camera specs faster than an engineer, knew that “vehicle dynamics” was a fancy way of saying “seat of the pants,” shooting at sunset is a whole lot better that sunrise, and that there’s no such thing as too much horsepower.

Hmmm… were we separated at birth?

I remember when I was his age. I wanted to get into automotive photography and writing, but didn’t know where to start. A friend in a car club suggested I write a few stories, shoot some photos and send them to the local newspaper. I did, and in a couple of weeks I got a call from the editor, who said he’d like to buy the stories, and could I provide them with weekly content?

For the next couple of years, I was the head writer and shooter for the “Wheels” section of the Saturday paper. Then I got a call from a friend who was a writer for Edmunds.com, and suggested I apply for a just-vacated position. A few days later, I was in a meeting with the Managing Editor and accepting a job offer.

A few years later, I had déjà vu: this time it was a call from a friend at Motor Trend. Next thing I know, I’ve got an office on the 7th floor of the Petersen Building, writing and shooting for the World’s Automotive Authority. To say it was a car-guy’s dream would be a gross understatement.

Three years into the gig, I’m in the process of moving to another home, and in the ensuing garage sale, I strike up a conversation with a guy while his wife is rummaging through my boxes of “stuff.” We start talking about cars, and he’s soon telling me all about his car-crazy son, nearing college graduation, and in need of an internship. I put him in touch with MT’s Editor-in-Chief and within a month, he’s in the office, running cars, assisting photographers and becoming a craft services guru (you can never have enough Red Vines on a road trip).

Did I mention his name is also Scott?

If you look at Motor Trend’s masthead, Scott’s still there. But he’s now the guy who drives the cars for nearly all the instrumented testing. Yeah, the guy understands vehicle dynamics.

So after talking to Chris under the Tree, I knew it was time to “pass it along” again. I gave him the name and number of my friend at Motor Trend, and suggested he give a call and inquire about an internship. After all, when you see the passion burning inside, it can’t hurt to feed it with a little 110-octane gasoline.

How to Make a Nature Photographer Cry

Years ago, when I was just a wee lad, I was blessed to have a family that was enamored with Hawaii and nature. Growing up with a camera in hand, I’ve seen and captured some amazing things: Newborn Pacific Humpback calves being carried on their mother’s snout; just-hatched, Nene goslings and tracks in the sand of baby Hawksbill turtles starting their journey of life.

Nature is grand!

So when I opened today’s edition of the Maui News and saw the image of a Louisiana Brown Pelican sheathed in oil, it brought tears to my eyes.

Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have really cared. I didn’t have the appreciation for our environment as I do now. Give credit to my mentor, Robert Glenn Ketchum. For over 40 years, Robert’s images, words and books have helped shape environmental awareness in America and across the globe. But the thing that Robert’s most recognized for is his work to preserve the Tongass Rainforest in Alaska, of which he is credited with helping to pass the Tongass Timber Reform Bill in 1990 – establishing five major wilderness areas and protecting more than one million acres of old-growth forest.

I met Robert several years ago while he was on Maui presenting a workshop in Hana. We became fast friends and he took me under his wing. He not only taught me how to “see” light and understand how it works in the camera, but how to open my eyes to the world, and to use my images for the betterment of this planet we live on. Through Robert’s guidance, I embarked to not only photograph beautiful scenery, flora and fauna, but to capture the mana (power) and ‘uhane (spirit) of the Islands, sharing them with others, and giving them to select conservational outlets.

Many of the images include “my friends” that visit every winter – the endangered Pacific Humpback Whale. The Humpback has been special to our family since we came here in the mid-1970s. We “adopted” Ha’nai Nani, our beautiful foster child, in June 1988. A juvenile at the time, he (or she) had a beautiful black tail with perfect white lining. The word, “majestic”, doesn’t even come close to describing this whale. While we haven’t seen “our” whale in quite some time, every winter I’m out in a Zodiac, days on end, camera in hand, looking for him/her, capturing these gentle giants swimming and playing in their backyard. I’ll tell ya, there’s not another chicken-skin moment like having a Humpback spyhop next to your boat, and there’s a four-inch diameter eye staring at you!

That is unless you want to count a whale exhaling right beside you (at 300 mph!). Whale snot isn’t the most pleasant thing to experience, but to be close to these amazing animals, I don’t mind a bit. Besides, it makes your skin shiny (eeewww!).

Anyhow, I started thinking about this Brown Pelican, the other birds, animals, plants and the sea life in the Gulf. Then I thought about the ramifications if the same disaster struck Hawaii. Like the Gulf, devastating doesn’t even start to describe it. We’ve already been watching our coral reefs shrink from injection wells; reef fish disappearing to the aquarium trade and there are 28 extinct species of native-Hawaiian birds (the State Bird, Nene, numbered less than 30 in 1955. Prior to 1778, there were about 25,000. Today, there are about 3,000) on the roster. Add a bazillion gallons of crude and, well, you get the picture.

I guess, in a way, it explains why I enjoy talking to people about the ‘Aina (land) and Kai (sea) - to look and take pictures and leave for others to enjoy. Protect the beauty of the land and sea for now and our future generations to enjoy.

I try to have fun with it. When it comes to the turtles, it’s simple: “Eh brah, fo’ no touch da honu! Oddah wise you get bit!” Or my warning about the whales: “Sure you can touch them. Just be sure you can pay the $50,000 fine for molesting an endangered species!” Some people laugh and others think I’m nuts. But if we don’t take care of, and protect what we have, our children and grand children will only learn about our world through pictures of what once was.

Like the image I have of a Bishop’s ‘O’o - a beautiful black bird with bright yellow under feathers with a loud echoing “oh-oh” call… Last heard and seen in 1981. Aloha my friend.

Every Penny Counts

How many times have you gone out to shoot, removed the lens cover, looked through the eye piece and wondered why things look weird? Correct settings? Check! Lens set to Auto Focus? Check! Hmmm…could it be the massive greasy thumb print on the lens? Ding, ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!

We all know the old adage of cleanliness being next to… you know. And we practice it the best we can. After mowing the yard, waxing the car and playing a game of tag football, we know it isn’t a wise to immediately jump into bed and give our loved ones a big snuggle prior to a proper body cleansing session. Granted, it can be fun to see their reaction, once they realize you smell like a dead armadillo that’s been baking on the road for three days. But generally, the only outcome will be a black eye for the “snuggler” as the “snugglee” attempts to clear the area in 2.4 seconds.

The same can be said for our cameras and lenses. Any crud on the lens will usually lead to crummy images, or at least some time in Photoshop trying to fix the mess. Case in point: last night, I’m in Kihei shooting the sunset, and the wind is whipping like mad. Which means, you guessed it, so was the salt spray. No worries, as I was running low on my old lens wipes, I had stopped at Costco and purchased a mammoth box of Flents Wipe’N Clear lens wipes. Cheaper than the Bausch & Lomb product I regularly use, I figured I’d save a few bucks and try something new.

Arriving at Sugar Beach, I stuffed a few of the new wipes into the camera bag and set off into the sand. Sure enough, after a few minutes of shooting, my lens was covered in salt spray. I pulled out a Flents packet, ripped it open and wiped the lens.

WTF?!?!?

The lens was soon covered with a streaky, smeary mess and a ton of fibers from the cloth. I opened another packet and feverishly wiped. Now the lens looked like a used tissue factory had exploded on the glass. And yes, the light was quickly fading.

I dug deep into a pocket and came up with one of my last Bausch & Lomb Sight Saver lens wipes. With two swiped of the towlette, the lens was crystal clear again… Just in time to catch the last rays of light.

Yessireedee! One little lens wipe that cost $.01 more than the Costco product saved the day, and the shot. It’s not that often that I make a product recommendation, and I’d don’t raise my hand willy-nilly to say, “This is the BEST thing since sliced bread!” A product has to prove to me that it does the job, first time out, and always with repeatable results. Like my uncle Bubba used to say, "Son, this Sh%! works!

Today I ordered a few boxes of Bausch & Lomb’s Sight Savers. Yeah, it cost more than the cheese ball Flents okole wipes, but my images look great when I don’t use them. It just goes to show ya: Sometimes, every penny counts.

Enjoying the Moment

The other day I had to drive to the other side of the Island. As I was leaving the studio, I glanced at my packed camera bag, and thought, “I’m just making a quick trip to the west-side. I don’t need to drag my cameras along.” Yeah, I was breaking my first Cardinal Rule: Always, ALWAYS take a camera wherever you go.

I had started this rule several years ago when it was an extraordinarily clear day, Iao Valley wasn’t wreathed in cloud and there was a rainbow as vivid as neon. After kicking myself for not having a camera (and missing a once-in-a-lifetime shot), I made sure that at minimum, I carried a point-and-shoot with me. After all, opportunities like this just don’t come around very often.

I piled into the truck and drove to Lahaina, and as is par for the course, one errand lead to a few, and I started talking story with friends I came across. By the time I started the drive home, the great gaseous orb in the sky started to drop towards the horizon.

At first, it looked like any other Maui sunset (like we really have bad ones here anyway). Then the colors started to intensify, the clouds started glowing, and I started frantically looking for a location to shoot. Pitching the truck off the road, I got out, threw open the back door and stared into an empty cab. No camera bag on the seat. No tripod on the floor.

AAACCCKKK!!!

Then I realize, I do have a camera, albeit on my cell phone, and with less resolution than my first digital camera (a Nikon 990 CoolPix). What the heck, mash the shutter button and… “SAY A COMMAND.” Arrrrgh. Wrong button. Oh how I hate this damn voice recognition crap. Mash the EXIT button, look up and see one of the most incredible sunsets I’ve ever seen! I lift the phone up, compose the image and hit the shutter button. The screen goes black for a second, a spinning hourglass appears and the phone reboots.

Mommy!!!

With a sigh I parked my back side on a rock and resign myself to the one thing my wife has wanted me to do for years: Enjoy the moment. And what a moment it was - the sky changing colors from orange, to crimson, to pink, and the clouds dancing in the fire of light, with incredible reflections on the water. It was a magnificent show to say the least.

With the light waning, I climbed back into the truck and a couple things came to mind:

1. Always remember rule #1 and
2. Sometimes you have to say, “Screw Rule #1.” Enjoy the moment

Photographic Procrastination

I had a feeling something wasn’t right: For the past month and change, I kept getting a twinge in my neck. Not bad at first, just a little ping here and there. No problem, just keep on shooting. As the days wore on, the ping became more pronounced and the little shocks in my neck soon migrated farther down my back. Only after the shocks turned to lighting bolts with bouts of numbness in the extremities, did I consult my physician.

After enough x-rays to bake a potato, a battery of tests and a visit to a chiropractor, it finally came to light: Degenerative disc disease and spinal stenosis at C5.

Congratulations! You’ve just won a trip to the orthopedic surgeon’s office!

The turmoil of the past couple of weeks got me thinking, “If I hadn’t procrastinated, would I be better off?” In this case, the answer was no (a car accident 15 years ago is probably the culprit), but it got me thinking of how I had procrastinated in my photography, and would I be better off had I been more proactive? The answer here was a resounding yes, and unfortunately, it wasn’t in one area, but several.

I opened my copy of ACDSee Pro and clicked on the server, then navigated to the “New Images” folder, where I initially download my images. To my horror, I had four months-worth of new images, amassed in 16 folders totaling 2,264 shots that I had not laid eyes on since the imaging sensor initially captured them. With a modest 10% kill ratio, I potentially had 226 “keepers” in the mix that hadn’t been through the digital darkroom workflow. I was potentially sitting on a gold mine and letting it waste away!

But them Mr. Procrastination’s grip of fear gave me a resounding shake, for these images weren’t part of a backup (the folder they reside in is only a temporary holding tank). If the hard drive failed (and we all know that it’s not a matter of if a hard drive will fail, but when), the weeks of shooting would be for naught.

I quickly realized that my procrastination had a snowball effect on my entire business: The new images weren’t in any of my galleries, art fair bins or on my Web site. The stock agencies and my clients didn’t know these images exist! While I could easily chock it up to “I was soooo busy with other things,” it all comes down to the conscious decision to put it off.

In today’s digital age, it’s easy for us to take a bazillion pictures, shove them onto a hard drive and forget about them. Unlike the shoebox in the closet that we used to store our negatives and slides in, hard drives fail, file folders are mistakenly deleted and computer gnomes move files to who knows where when you aren’t looking. We all have images on our computers – family, friends, vacations, etc. – that need out attention. Sorting through and deleting the bad images frees up storage space. You might find an incredible sunset or flower shot that you didn’t realize you had, or you might find a photo of an old friend – attaching it to an email could make their day.

So now I’m looking through a bevy of photos. Some will be unceremoniously tossed. Others relegated to the “Stock” folder and the special few will pass into the “Wow!” folder for immediate processing. I may have to wait to see what happens with my neck, and take a course of action that will alleviate the pain. But within the next few days, the plethora of new images will be sorted, processed, uploaded, printed and backed-up.

Aloha, adios and auf wiedersehen Mr. Procrastination!

2010 Sample Collection

We just put the finishing touches on a promotional video, showcasing a portion of our 2010 collection of images. This is only a sample, as we're still processing the last two months-worth of images I've shot. You can view the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1d7vuGY3Y0M

Paintography of Paradise - Opening Tonight!

Tonight at 4:30 PM, we'll be opening our new Paintography of Paradise show at Maui Hands in Lahaina. At 6:00 PM, we'll be giving away 20 copies of our just-released, Paintography of Paradise DVD. Hope to see you there for a fun evening of art and friendship in old Lahaina Town. Maui Hands is located at 612 Front Street, and there's free parking at the public lot on Prison Street. See ya there!

Canon 5D MARK II - Firmware Update

Firmware Version 2.0.3 for Canon's 5D MARK II was released today on Canon's Site (http://www.usa.canon.com/consumer/controller?act=ModelInfoAct&fcategoryid=139&modelid=17662#DownloadDetailAct). The update incorporates five enhancements to the movie function and a fix to the manual sensor cleaning function of the EOS 5D Mark II camera (it fixes a phenomenon where communication between the camera and the attached lens is sometimes interrupted after manual sensor cleaning. It only affects units with Firmware Version 1.2.4.. If you have a MARK II, I highly recommend this firmware upgrade. Allow at least 20 minutes total time (from downloading the update to completion).

Our New Site is LIVE!

It's been months in the making, but the all-new, scottmead.com is up and running! We're initially launching with several galleries of images, and the availability to purchase metallic prints and gallery-wrapped canvas giclees. Within the next week, we'll be introducing a new line of images printed on recycled sugar cane paper and other cool stuff. Aloha!