Twenty (More) Things I’ve Learned as a Photographer

1. The day you decide not to bring an extra memory card is the day you’ll wish you’d brought five.

2. The best “sweet light” you’ve ever seen will happen when you don’t have your camera.

3. A mongoose and a sleeping bag make for a bad combination.

4. A day is never long enough when you’re having fun with a camera.

5. If you’re on deadline, and you’re working on a cover image, you will inevitably receive the Blue Screen of Death from your computer.

6. It’s not advisable to pound down three Red Bulls and try to shoot hand-held in low light, unless you really want your subject to look abstract.

7. When you’re late for a flight at LAX, your camera bag will always alarm at the security check point and promote you to the “secondary screening” area.

8. Bungee cords, a Swiss Army Knife and gaffer’s tape can make any photographer look like MacGyver.

9. The apple never falls far from the tree. Neither do coconuts, but they hurt more.

10. Usually the third or fourth wave in a set is the best to shoot, but sometimes it’s the second or fifth that soaks your camera.

11. If you ever see a photographer with an overloaded camera bag climb a fence or a tree to get a shot, there’s a good chance paramedics will become involved.

12. Live for the moment. Photograph it to always remember it.

13. It makes no difference if you’re shooting film or digital, or if you’ve spent $100 or $1,000 on your camera. Having fun while you’re shooting is all that matters.

14. Visiting the USS Arizona Memorial will change your life.

15. Never share a room with someone who snores louder than you.

16. Lava flowing into the ocean looks really cool, but it’s hotter than he#%!

17. When it’s time to upgrade your digital camera, donate it to someone who isn’t as fortunate as you so they can perpetuate their memories.

18. A $7.00 beach umbrella from Walmart has an SPF value of 0. Ask my dermatologist how he knows.

19. Having a humpback whale spy hop next to your boat is exhilarating. Being exhaled upon and covered in whale snot… not so much.

20. The difference between “ooh” and “aah” is usually ½ stop of underexposure.

Safety Check

I was washing my truck today for the first time in, well… I can’t remember…

Anyway, as I’m scrubbing the back bumper, I glance at the two State Inspection decals on the right side. The right decal, a weird cloverleaf design (since we don’t have any cloverleaf interchanges in the state), denotes the year. The left decal is a large numeral, denoting the month. Every year, we have to get our cars and trucks inspected, an effort to ensure that unsafe vehicles are kept off the roads. The month decal on the back of my truck is an “8,” which meant mine was due.

Ugh.

Getting an inspection really isn’t a big deal: You pull into an inspection station and the attendant does a visual assessment of all the lights and indicators, checks the wipers and essentially looks over the vitals to ensure your vehicle isn’t a rolling speed bump or proverbial death trap on the road.

Funny thing is, your car may look like Swiss Cheese from all the rust holes, run on three of six cylinders and have the bumpers held on my bailing wire and duct tape. But if your lights and wipers work, it’s safe to drive on Hawaii’s roads. Go figure.

Fifteen minutes after pulling in, my truck passed with flying colors (really!) and I had my new decals and inspection slip for the forthcoming registration renewal. Back in the studio, I started thinking about the safety check, and realized that it would probably be a good idea to give my camera gear one as well.

I hauled my camera bag on the table and unloaded the bodies, lenses and accessories, inspecting and cleaning everything as I went. One lens was missing a cap (thank goodness for extras) and I noticed the plug on my cable release was starting to fray – time to order a new one.

Turning my attention to my camera bag, I worked the zippers and found a few teeth in the main compartment’s closure that weren’t mating properly. Attempting to straighten the teeth, they broke off in my hand, and even with a self-healing zipper, any pressure against the area resulted in instant separation. I began to suffer from separation anxiety.

I’ve had bag zippers fail before. The worst was a few years ago when I was shooting an interior of a house in Wailea. The main compartment zipper failed, and four lenses and a camera body had an unfortunate meeting with a travertine floor from a five-foot drop. The results weren’t pretty: a dented barrel, two shattered UV filters and cracked screen. Finding the compromised zipper probably saved my bacon down the line, especially if the zipper decided to fail while I was hiking on a trail… in the rain… at night.

I boxed up the bag for its trek back to Tamrac for repair, knowing that in a couple of weeks, I’ll have it back, good as new. I’ve already put a note in my 2012 calendar, a big “Safety Check” in the month header. Hopefully next year, by gear will pass as easily as my truck did.

The Aha Moment

Several times in life, I’ve experienced the “Aha” moment. That place in time when there’s absolute clarity. Something you’ve been struggling to get your brain around suddenly thumps you on the back of the head as if to say, “GOT IT!”

Some of those days have really stuck with me over the years: In high school, I learned that if you filled the trash can half-full of water, then threw in the lit M-80 and put the lid on top, you could not only blow up the trash can, but send the lid over the neighbor’s house. There was the afternoon in Hana, where Robert Ketchum finally got through to me how light “works” in the camera. And the day I learned how to throttle steer (read power slide) a car. Once you “get it,” it’s kind of like riding a bike: Once you learn, you never forget.

Earlier this week, I held a private workshop in Makena. When I do a private class, I always inquire to what the participants want to learn: Shooting the perfect sunset, macro flora photography and the perfect wave usually are what most answer. This class was different. “We know how to use our cameras,” the one said. “But we don’t know the settings ‘work.’”

Two of the participants went on to explain that they had both taken several photography classes, where instructors “told” them how to take digital pictures. One instructor had then shooting in manual mode the entire time (just like in the old days, where you would set the aperture and shutter speed) and work the two to get the best shot. Unable to get the shots they were looking for, they were hoping I could help.

Both of my students were from the “film” days, and wanted to take pictures that looked like it had been shot on film, but having to think “digitally,” they were never happy with how their images turned out.

The key, I told them, is not to think digitally, but think like you’re shooting film. The premise is simple: The only real difference (okay, may be not the only, but the most significant) is that a film camera captures light on a piece of plastic covered in silver-metal halide crystals or an imaging sensor that captures the light and “changes” it into a digital signal of ones and zeros. If you think film, your images will look like they were shot on film.

I saw the light bulb start to flicker. It was the beginning of the Aha moment.

We drove to our first shooting spot, found a nice scene with moss-covered lava, rolling waves and a clear view of Molokini and Kahoolawe in the background. After getting them setup on tripods and proper lenses selected, it was time to add some electricity to the flickering bulb.

We talked about the scene, how the contrast of the moss with the rocks works with the blue of the waves as they curl and break. The white foam adding just enough accents, while the islands in the background help give a sense of space.

I had them take a picture in automatic mode. The results were less than flattering.

“Now,” I told them, “You paid for the Nikon engineers to develop a fantastic meter and incredible algorithms for your cameras. Now use them.” I had them get out of automatic into aperture mode, playing with the depth of field, bracketing shots and experimenting with their cameras.

The light bulb went to a steady state of light. They got it.

After an hour of shooting different scenes, playing with shutter and aperture priority, we packed up the gear and headed off to shoot flora.

Finding a nice patch of ginger, it was now time to learn how light can be used to your advantage. We worked the blooms hard, with the sun behind a cloud (utilizing nature’s soft box) and direct sun, working the aperture of the lens to best utilize available light. The results were eye-opening, and the bulb was burning brightly.

I could see the months of frustration melting from their minds, as they looked at the scene before them, composed and set their cameras and made images. Looking at their screens, they were beautifully composed, had great contrast and the exposures were perfect. Nearby, I thought I heard a small sonic boom, made from the electrical meter from the draw from my student’s light bulbs. They had it, as we used to say in the film days, “in the can.”

Even today, I’m pleasantly surprised when I have a new Aha moment. It reminds me that from the beginning of life through death, we’re always learning, always striving, always looking to put new knowledge “in the can.”

I can only wonder what that next moment will be.

Flipping Out

Last night, I decided to catch a sunset in Wailea. Over the past few weeks, I’ve had numerous requests for a sunset fronting one of the Wailea resorts, so I packed up my gear and went looking for the right scene.

The resort’s property sits among lava-crusted coastline, most of which does not afford easy access to the shoreline unless you’re willing to traverse the sharp and craggy lava formations. This is the type of landscape I like – it’s a rarity you see anyone out on the lava, and it’s pretty unmolested due to the difficulty of the terrain.

After watching the wave patterns for a while, I choose my shooting spot. There’s lots of personality in the lava and surrounding pools, and the coral and rocks were providing a wonderful water pattern as the waves sloshed in.

With my camera mounted on the tripod and trained on the incoming swells, I patiently waited for the sun to dip beneath a thick cloud over Lanai. I reached for my cable release to take a shot and I heard someone approaching me from behind.

“Hey there,” calls the sunburned, 40-something gent picking his way towards me. “You taking pictures of the sunset?

“Yep,” I reply. “Just setting up and waiting for the right light.”

“It sure is pretty here,” he says.

“Yes it is,” I say agreeingly. “This is one of the most beautiful places on the Island. You have a great view of Kahoolawe, Lanai, and West Maui; there are Green Sea Turtles feeding just inside the breakwater; and in the winter, Humpback Whales are always swimming by.”

For the next 15 minutes, we chat about the diversity of the Island: How we have 11 of the 13 climate zones in the world; endangered species that the Island provides food and shelter for; the barren desert of Makena and the tropical forests in Hana; the breathtaking beauty of Haleakala and the rugged coastline of Keanae.

In our conversation, I bring up the pride Kanaka Maole (native Hawaiians) and many Haoles (foreigners to Hawaiian Lands) have for the Islands. While Pride may be one of the Seven Deadly Sins, it’s a good thing here – being proud to take care of the land, the ocean for it will provide for us. Proud of the beauty and splendor that has been created for us to admire and protect. Proud to know that by our actions, we are preserving a culture and place that will last for generations.

As the sun drops lower in the sky, I click off more frames. He turns to me and asks, “Mind if I smoke?”

“No,” I reply. “So long as you don’t mind if I don’t join you.” He chuckled and lit up a Red Apple.

While I click away, we chat about some of the must-see-and-do things while on Maui. As the sun dips below the top of Lanai, he says, “Nice talkin’ to ya,” stubs out his cigarette on the lava and flicks it towards the surf.

For a moment, I’m stunned at what I just saw.

“Go get it,” I said in a terse tone.

He replied, “Get what?

“The butt you just tossed, Go GET IT.”

“Dude, relax,” he scoffed.

That’s when I proverbially “flipped” out on his flipped butt. Did he not hear anything I said about our Island? Its beauty? Its people? The diversity that exists nowhere else in the world?

For the next few minutes, there was no conversation, but a polite “lecture” on Hawaiian protocol: How everyone is a steward of the Aina (land), to protect it, and it will provide for us; honu, fish, sea birds and other animals mistake rubbish for “treats” that are indigestible, often killing them; by disposing of cigarette butts (or any other rubbish) in the ocean, we put an ecology at risk that’s been here for generations, that may not be around for those who come after us.

He looked out at the water, walked to the tide pool his butt was floating in and plucked it out. He apologized and bid me goodnight.

As he hiked his way back to the resort, I noticed him bending and picking something up off the lava, walking another few yards, then bending over again. I realized as he was walking back to the resort, he was picking up other errantly placed cigarette butts, becoming a steward of the Aina.

Maui provided him with a beautiful view, an encounter with honu and a beautiful sunset. He, in turn cared for the land, perpetuating a cycle that has lasted for generations. Not a bad symbiotic relationship, huh?