Breaking the Addiction

After 37 years, it’s time to come clean. I have an addiction, and it’s one I’m not necessarily proud of. My addiction has, at times, come between me and my family. It takes time away from chores that need to be done. It’s put a damper on relaxing vacations, created a bit of strife at parties and gatherings. It’s not smoking, alcohol or drugs.

Hi, I’m Scott, and I’m a Photoholic.

Every day, my head feels like it’s on a swivel – twisting and turning – looking at our world a little bit differently than most people. I see my surroundings as a gigantic canvas, and I’m picking pictures out of it. I often joke that the only function of the left side of my brain, is to hold the right side in place, and it certainly feels like it. I’m no mathematician by any sense of the term, but I easily find, so perfectly coined by fellow photographer, Dewitt Jones, as “seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary.”

I usually soothe this addiction by carrying a camera with me, grabbing images as I see them. There are instances when something magical happens, and my camera isn’t there, and I become upset with myself for not carrying a camera with me. My wife will be the first to tell you about the “signs” – my hands grip the steering wheel of the truck to the point my knuckles turn white. I begin to mutter things like, “Oh gosh, that sky will look tremendous in five minutes” or “darn it, darn it, darn it,” or the ever-popular “AAACCCCKKK!!!”

And God forbid I have a camera with me, and either the battery is dead or I forgot to out the memory card back in – I have a tough time dealing with my own stupidity. Some of it comes from my “I’m a pro, and I should know better” mentality. When this happens among friends, they can’t help but laugh at me: the photographer that has the patience and persistence to go back to the same location night after night to get the right sunset, but internally becomes a raging 12-year-old brat when he can’t take a picture.

I’m trying to get better. Really I am. While there’s no 12-step program (that I know of at least) for Photoholism, I’ve got a routine that works pretty well: Close my eyes and do some deep breathing until either the scene changes, or the light fades – Just don’t do that while driving, or there might be an impromptu air bag test.

My mother (bless her) tells me to keep what I’ve seen in my mind and heart, that there’ll be another one like it soon enough. Her words are semi-comforting, as I know that no two sunsets are alike, and I’m anal enough to want the one that’s unfolded before me, because it was SO DARN COOL!

Alas, I know that I can’t capture everything, just like I can’t have everything (I’ve been asking Santa for a 1972 Lamborghini Miura SV since I was seven-years-old, and I still don’t have one). But as long as I can remember it from my mental camera, that’ll have to work… until someone figures out how to implant a Canon 5D MARK III with a 16-35mm f/2.8 lens in my forehead.

Living Aloha

Years ago, my grandfather taught me my most important lesson in life. It wasn’t some financial secret that would make you rich, nor the ins and outs of understanding women (I don't think that can ever be taught, nor any man truly comprehend). It was something more deep and meaningful than anything I’ve ever learned as a child or an adult. It's a lesson I'll always replay in my mind until I take my last breath.

July on Maui is wonderful. The trades blow at a nice pace, the days are warm and at my grandparent’s place, the sun sets directly into the Pacific between the islands of Lana’i and Molokai. We had a made it a full day, with a trip to Hamai Appliance in Kahului to get a part for the washing machine, a stop at Ace Hardware for necessary odds and ends, and a quick stop to treat ourselves with a pineapple milk shake at Peggy Sue’s before heading back to Honokowai.

That evening as we sat on the lanai, watching the sun dip below the horizon, he asked me if I knew why Hawaiians always seem so joyful? I said, “Because they eat shave ice?” He replied, “That may be one small reason, but it’s really because they live Aloha.”

I had always thought aloha meant hello, goodbye, love, and was the name of an inter-island airline. My grandfather went on to explain that the word meant far more than that, and that living Aloha is about living your life to the fullest, by first loving and respecting yourself and then spreading that love and respect to others. “If you ever want to call Hawai’i your home, you have to respect the aina (land), respect the culture, be humble and live Aloha. If you do, you’ll have blessings beyond your imagination.”

Aloha starts with its literal translation: “breath of life.” The root, “Alo,” means presence, front or face, and “ha,” meaning breath. When I greet my kumu a’o, Lopaka, we touch forehead to forehead, nose to nose, place our right hands on each other’s shoulders and share a long inhale and exhalation of air – the breath of life. Lopaka has told me that to live Aloha is about living in harmony – a sending and receiving of positive energy. When one lives aloha, he or she creates positive thoughts and feelings, which multiply and spread openly to others – the sharing of the Aloha Spirit.

You can see this on a daily basis, at the local coffee shop, walking down the street and even behind the wheel of your car. On a trip to the mainland, earlier this year, I pulled up to a four-way stop, and watched three vehicles try to go at the same time, honking their horns and exchanging nonverbal un-pleasantries. I had to laugh, because on Maui, the typical situation is for all of the drivers to wave each other through the intersection first. The result is a lot of hand waving, shakas, and yelling out of truck windows, “No cuz, you go!” It's the Aloha.

Once in a while, you run into someone who hasn’t let Aloha into their hearts. Some hold onto their big city mannerisms, debauched driving habits (you know, the classic speed-up-cut-off-get-ahead even though there are 10 open vehicle lengths behind your car) and “it’s all about me” attitudes. Many don’t last but a few years before heading back to the mainland. Others stay and are tolerated, but we know that Aloha will never be returned.

For those who embrace the Aloha Spirit, the Islands become a huge oyster, with a giant pearl of friendship, wisdom, respect and joy that fills your heart and nourishes your soul. I think Queen Lili’uokalani put it best when she said, “…hear what is not said, to see what cannot be seen, and to know the unknowable- that is Aloha..."

2012 PDN PhotoPlus Expo: Four Days of Non-Stop Photo Fun

Some 15 years ago, I went to my first photography exposition at the Pasadena Convention Center in California. I spent two days in photographer’s bliss, attending seminars (such as learning how to care for your film when out on an adventure), and pouring over all the latest gadgets and goodies, like the then-new carbon fiber tripods.

Last week’s PDN PhotoPlus Expo at the Javits Center in New York brought me back to that blissful state, with four days filled with portfolio reviews, incredible seminars, and exhibit hall filled with all the latest photo toys and an incredibly fun print signing with Hahnemühle FineArt. If you’ve never been to a photography convention or exposition, it definitely needs to be on every photographer’s bucket list.

Over the next several posts, I’ll fill you in on all the cool stuff New York, and PPE, had to offer. In the meantime, here are a few of the highlights.

As you thumb through the latest issues of Shutterbug, Pop Photo or Outdoor Photographer, there are lots of ads from companies selling a plethora of photographic tools and gadgets. Many of which, your local camera store doesn’t stock (unless you live in New York, and B&H Photo or Adorama are your local outlets). So imaging plunking yourself into a 150,000-plus square-foot hall, with every imaginable camera and accessory available for you to touch and try before making a purchase, and the availability to buy at the show with some sort of varying discount. A photographer’s dream come true? You bet it is. It’s also a good way to max out your credit cards and fill your luggage (as I found out first hand).

Expos also afford the chance to expand your photographic horizons with seminars and mini workshops. Experts from throughout the world are on stage to explain techniques, hidden software tricks and share their business savvy, to help you grow as a photographer. In a matter of two hours, I learned more about social networking and marketing that I had cultured in two years on my own. I got to listen to, and meet some of photography’s greats such as John Paul Caponigro, David LaChapelle and Seth Resnick. I also got to take away a bevy of new techniques to try, and got answers to questions that I’d been gnawing at for a long time.

One of the gems of PPE were the portfolio reviews, put on by the Palm Springs Photo Festival folks. For a minimal fee, you get 20 minutes of face time with magazine editors, gallery owners, photography reps, stock agencies and other photo industry professionals. It’s a great way to get your work in front of people who buy and sell photography on a daily basis. The advice is invaluable, and you might walk right into an opportunity or two.

Having so much Fun, It Should be Illegal

One of Maui’s largest photography competitions – Photo Maui – is just around the corner. For the first time in five years, I’m not on the committee that puts the event on, so I decided to dip into my old photography tool box, wipe the dust off of some old equipment and have fun.

A couple days later of shooting like a mad man and having a blast, I’m surprised I haven’t been shot, arrested or placed in the loony bin. Maybe I better explain…

Back in my “automotive journalist” days, I shot nearly every kind of car made – from Audis to Zimmers and everything in between. Static beauty shots were easy, but the real fun was mounting a camera to the car (usually with several suction cups and a conglomeration of articulating arms and aluminum rails), then driving it along canyon roads.

I had talked with my friend, Paul, about taking a drive up Haleakala Highway. We both had Sunday free, and the Corvette and Pantera hadn’t been exercised in a while. The night before, I was cleaning my car, and noted to myself that it had been way too long since I had photographed it.

Down in the studio, I opened the door to “The Closet,” a spaced carved under the stairs where the remnants of my wet darkroom and all the gear I used to shoot cars resides. I pulled out the dust-covered bags labeled “Speed Rail/Magic Arms” and “Suction Cups/Clamps/Cables,” then hauled them outside to blow off the 10-plus years of neglect. I tossed the bags into the car, hit the starter and proceeded to piss off all the dogs in the neighborhood with the staccato exhaust note.

After sucking down a tall coffee at the local Starbucks, Paul and I hit the road, the traffic light and open where we could stretch the legs of our cars a bit before hitting the terrific twisties that would take us to Ulupalakua.

Just past the Sun Yet Sen Park, we downshift and head into some of the best driving road in Maui County. I take note of some dramatic sweeping turns and trees, and open turnouts. By the time I reach the Ulupalakua General Store, I’m excited to gear up the car. I park, shut down the V8 and grab the bags o’ tricks.

After about 20 minutes of attaching a menagerie of suction cups, gaffer tape, magic arms, tripod, camera and phone cabling, I lock the camera settings and focus, and then set the DSLR Controller app to shoot every three seconds.  With racing harness latched into place, I fire the engine, select first gear and ease out the clutch.

Working through the gears and gaining speed, I keep a close eye on the right wing mirror and the view of the Canon 5D MARK II hanging about four feet off the rear quarter panel. I keep the car close to the center line, and breathe in deeply in sharp corners with close hill sides – a feeble attempt to make the car thinner.

After driving eight miles with the shutter continually clicking, the skies open up and I quickly pull into a turnout with a large Jacaranda tree. With rain pouring, I pull off the camera and rigging, carefully stowing it in towels for the ride home. Drying off the camera, I take a quick look at the images and a smile comes to my face: The side of the car is sharp, with blurred wheels spinning and landscape streaming away. I feel like a kid again, watching my first image coming up in the developer bath.

While I have “the image” now for Photo Maui, I can’t wait to put the gear back on the car and go for another drive. The question is, take a drive to Haleakala or Hana?

Days of My Youth

About every six months or so, it happens: The menehune in my studio take over, move stuff around and I seemingly can’t find anything. Truth be told, I’m a “piler.” I have piles of papers, piles of computer parts, piles of notes and even piles of piles. Finally, I get tired of combing through the mass, and reorganization ensues. Typically, that’s when discovery happens.

Cleaning and putting things away this round, I moved an old computer that was bound for e-cycling, exposing the bottom drawer of one of our file cabinets. I pulled it open and discovered a treasure trove of what the late George Carlin would consider “stuff.” I pulled out mass of wires and a remote that went to a long-lost stereo, several 5-1/4” floppy discs, a Pink Pet eraser, my college graduation tassel and a small plain brown battered box. Inside was the treasure of my childhood.

I had completely forgotten about the box, which I had tucked away over a decade ago. Carlin might have labeled its contents as junk rather than stuff, but everything inside was linked to a specific moment in my life, and was kept to spark memories back to life.

There was a chunk of concrete from the fabled Riverside International Raceway’s Turn 9 wall, which after all these years, still reeked of motor oil and race gas. In the early ‘80s, my father was an active participant in time trials, and many a weekend was spent at Riverside, Ontario Motor Speedway and Willow Springs Raceway. At the time of RIR’s demise, he still held the track record for a DeTomaso Pantera with the stock brake system. I remember riding shotgun for that lap. And yes, it was scary fast!

Other mementos were removed and set aside, but the last three items were definitely the best: a set of GE Magicubes flash cubes for my Kodak Instamatic X45 – my first camera -- and a t-shirt from the Windsock Lounge at the Kaanapali Air Strip. It was on my first trip to the Valley Isle that I received that camera from my grandfather.

We had flown in from Honolulu to the old Kaanapali air strip, which had literally been carved out of the middle of a sugar cane field. The plane was a small, eight-passenger, twin-engine, Cessna 402, operated by Royal Hawaiian Airlines. The pilot let me sit on the co-pilot’s seat for the flight, and I remember being mesmerized by all the dials and controls, the drone of the turbocharged Continental engines and the pilot’s light touch on the controls as the plane bobbed through the sky.

As we flew over Molokai, the pilot asked if I’d like to see a waterfall. I said yes, and a few moments later, he dipped the right wing in a steep bank as we angled towards Papalaua Falls. The plane instantly filled with smiles, from the awesome view and the “yee-haw” moment, neither of which you’d ever get on any commercial flight.

Landing on the asphalt patch in the middle of the sugar cane field, we entered the terminal (which was rather small, even for rural standards) and climbed the spiral staircase to the Windsock Lounge which overlooked the runway. I sat with my grandfather for a while, watching the Cessnas take off and land while sipping a Coke, my grandfather nursing a Coors.

I got my camera shortly thereafter – a Kodak Instamatic X45 that took 126 film cartridges. That brings me to the third item, a picture I took with that camera. It was faded and grainy, but it was one of the falls on the road to Hana. The memory brought back the pain in my back from riding on that old bumpy road, sitting in the back seat of their yellow Pinto station wagon.

I may not have that original camera anymore, but I do have the memories and a few mementos, and there’s a camera in my hand nearly every day. I guess I’m still living the days of my youth.

Remember When…

I received an email from a friend, who noted that I hadn’t posted anything to my blog or Facebook in a while, and wanted to be sure I hadn’t fallen off a cliff or was run over by a lava flow. I wrote back, assuring him that everything was fine; there were no fresh shooting injuries that I’d been a bit off grid. Shooting on the islands of Moloka’i, I explained, was a portion of my digital absence.

It had been about six years since I had visited the Friendly Isle, and my last trip was an intensive day of shooting. This time, I spent almost a week exploring and reconnecting with the Island.

Although it’s the fifth largest of the Hawaiian Islands, Moloka’i, in my view, is the most special. It reminds me of what Maui used to be, as my grandparents described to me, when they first visited in the ‘60s: Quaint, quiet and abundant with Aloha.

As a child, I remember riding in the Pinto station wagon across the bumpy dirt road to Kapalua bay, walking across the dunes to the most perfect white sand, crescent shaped beach I had ever seen. At the high tide mark, there were hundreds of puka and cowry shells. Sometimes, if you were lucky, expired sea urchins would wash ashore.

Molokai’s Papohaku beach reminds me of those days gone by. Its three miles shoreline makes one of the largest beaches in the state, and it’s probably the most deserted – I shot there on three occasions, and every time, our little group of three photographers were leaving the only foot prints on the entire beach. It was virtually impossible to walk without stepping on puka and other shells. It was amazingly beautiful, flooding my mind with memories and wishing my grandparents were still around to share the moment with.

Back in “the day,” Maui’s speed would be the same as Moloka’i today. It’s a nice, relaxed pace, that’s maika’i (good) with me, but many think it’s a bit too sleepy, given the rat race that many people today are used to. There’s also a big gist of Aloha, in the sense of compassion to others. There wasn’t anywhere on the island where I didn’t meet a smiling face or feel welcome.

While Maui has grown up, it’s nice to step back in time by taking a 90 minute ferry ride. The memories alone are worth it.

Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover, or You Might Have an 11-D Mouth

Several weeks ago, I blogged my dismay of the new Canon 5D MARK III’s specifications (Canon: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot), which at first blush, showed no significant upgrade for an outdoor photographer – especially a 1MP increase in sensor size.

After speaking with Canon’s Michael Nadler at the Palm Springs Photo Festival, and having some hands-on time with the camera, It’s obvious the camera’s specs barely scratch the surface of what this new body is capable of.

Thus, I have removed my left 11-D Columbia hiker and have inserted it into my mouth.

To be blunt, the camera is amazing. The processing and thru-put is blazing fast. Color rendition and shadow contrast is wonderful. And in low light, it’ll blow your mind away with incredible sharpness and eerily lack of digital noise.

According to Michael, Canon makes it all happen through gap less micro optics. Essentially, up to now, there were small gaps between pixels. Canon’s redeveloped their pixels so that there’s no gap, so the entire sensor can be used, with larger pixels to capture an image. In fact, the new CMOS sensor in the 5D MARK III (and 1DX) captures about 1/3 additional light than previous sensors. The results are sharper images, better clarity across the board and reduced digital noise.

Testing the MARK III against my tried-and-true MARK II revealed better contrast resolution, greatly reduced noise at ISO 400 and image thru-put (from the time the shutter is depressed until the image is fully written to the card) is nearly cut in half.

In a nutshell: Yes, Virginia. It blows away the 5D MARK II.

Where the MARK III really shines is in shooting sunsets: In my style of shooting, there’s a delicate balance between depth of field, diminishing light, and motion, which dictates a dance of decision between an extremely long shutter at a low ISO (for a relatively noiseless image, but a completely blurred motion of water) or a moderate ISO that permits me to slow the water’s movement (without making a foggy mess), but leaves the image with a noisy background. With the 5D MARK III, I can now advance my ISO comfortably to 800 + and retain a clean image.

Some of the forthcoming accessories are even more amazing. For instance, the new wireless file transmitter (WFT-E7A) supports the wireless IEEE 802.11n protocol, which promises file transfers up to three-times faster than the a/g protocol used on older WFT units, the transmitter also includes an internal Bluetooth function for connecting to third-party GPS devices, and I don’t doubt we’ll see a firmware update at some point and time that would allow for remote capture via Bluetooth connected device (think iPad or Android smart phone). The new Wireless File Transmitter also supports DLNA (Digital Living Network Alliance), so you can check out your images on a TV or mobile device.

So don’t be fooled by the spec sheet. The 5D MARK III is the supercharged version of its predecessor, and I’ll be posting images soon of what this camera can do… now that a MARK III resides in my camera bag.

Backing Up is Hard to Do

Last week, I sat down at my desk and glanced at my little HP server. All four drive lights were out, and the warning light was flashing, alternating red and blue pulses. I scurried for the manual, desperate to find the error code key. I stared at the black box and counted red, blue, blue, blue... NNNOOOOOOOO!!!

Yep. It's dead as a door nail.

Thankfully, I have a backup. I had learned the hard way a few years ago, when one of my drives kicked the proverbial bucket. The amount of data loss was minimal, but very memorable. That's why I have multiple backups of my images on a redundant server, an external hard drive, a Drobo and in "the Cloud."

Believe it or not, less than 45% of computer users backup their data. All those precious digital images, stored as "ones" and "zeros" in a disc platter that could fail. Images that might not be recoverable.

Tomorrow is World Backup Day (http://www.wdc.com/global/products/features/?id=9&language=1), and if you haven't performed a backup in a long time, or have never made a backup of your computer, tomorrow's the day to do it.

One of the hottest new products is Western Digital's My Book Live Duo (http://www.wdc.com/en/products/products.aspx?id=620). With it's redundant RAID mirroring drives, losing images is virtually a thing of the past.

So tomorrow, play it safe. Create a digital shoebox and backup your images.

Shutter Bug Radio

So, what are you doing today at 1 PM PDT? Join us for our live interview on Shutter Bug Magazine Radio! point your web browser to: http://wsradio.com/radio_showspage.aspx?id=60 and click on "Live Studio A."

Canon: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

I’ve been a Canon shooter since 1992. I turned to Canon after I had several bad repair experiences with Pentax, when my then PZ-1 decided that autofocus wasn’t something I really needed, or should use. I had spent three months shuttling the camera back-and-forth between their Colorado repair facility and my local camera shop. The Pentax techs insisted the camera was working properly, yet the store owner and I couldn’t get any lens to autofocus on my PZ-1 body.

After that third journey to the Centennial State, I consigned two bodies, five lenses and two flashes for sale. In turn, I bought two Canon A2 film bodies, three lenses and a flash. When my order arrived, I was pleased as punch. The Canons felt better to my hand, and the “L” series glass blew me away, especially when shooting Fuji Velvia 50.

I merged to digital when the EOS D30 arrived in late 2000. I can remember covering the Los Angeles Auto Show, and the camera got about as much interest as the cars on display. I loved how the camera worked and reacted like a film camera, but with the ability to instantly capture, develop and download images as the new cars were unveiled. In the burgeoning Web, it gave me the ability to quickly update coverage on the fly.

As the years went by, and new Canon bodies were introduced, I upgraded as the technology advanced: 60D, 1D, 1Ds, 5D, 1D MARK III and 5D MARK II. With each upgrade came a significant upgrade in megapixels, write speed and numerous other features. Canon had a knack of anticipating just what the pro market needed, and delivered it in spades.

Currently, my bodies du jour are the 5D MARK II and 1D MARK III. The “Five” is my workhorse, which I use for capturing everything, sans whales or anything that requires rapid image capture. That’s where the 1D MARK III comes into play, with its 10 frames/second capture rate. The camera is also a boon to shooting wildlife with its APS-H imaging sensor, which affords a 1.3X crop factor. In layman’s terms, it gives a lens a range boost of 1.3-times.

Essentially, a 200mm lens becomes a 260mm and a 400 is essentially a 520mm – perfect to shooting whales, wildlife and sports, without the need for big (heavy and very expensive) long lenses and keeping a safe distance. Besides, hand holding a $10,500, seven-pound, 500mm lens, while photographing whales from a 30’ Zodiac is a pain in the you-know-what. Give me a $1,600, 100-400mm zoom that weighs three pounds and a 1.3 crop factor – and get more range - any day.

Both of my cameras are getting “long in the tooth,” and I’ve been anxiously awaiting their replacements. The 1D MARK IV replacement arrived in October, 2011, with the 1Dx. Its specifications will make any sports shooter water: 18 MP, 13 frames/second shooting, new Digic 5 processor and of course, dual card slots among the many upgrades. For my needs, the new camera had a significant drawback: Canon merged the smaller, 1D, APS-H sensor and the 1Ds full-frame sensor camera together to create the 1Dx, hence the full-frame sensor in the “x.” Essentially, pros shooting the full-frame 1Ds saw a decrease in pixels from 21MP to 18MP, and 1D users gained megapixels (16 to 18), but lost the coveted magnification.

The 5D MARK III was released about a week ago, amid several years of rumors that the new “III” would have a robust jump in megapixels (most blogs reported 32 was the magical number), processing speed, better sealing against the elements and the possibility of dual card slots. What Canon release was what was hoped for, except an increase of megapixels. The new camera gets a whopping one-megapixel boost from 21 to 22. The new sensor has a big jump in light capturing ISO, but it’s a miracle if I ever bump sensor sensitivity to ISO 400. It also receives a host of video related upgrades - perfect for Canon’s fight against Red’s “Scarlet” camera, but does nothing for a nature photographer shooting stills. Oh, then there’s the price of the new camera, a $1,300 increase over the current 5D MARK II.

According to Canon, the upgrades made to the 1D and 5D series are “what pros asked for.” Polling my friends in the industry, we’re wondering just who Canon questioned, as the upgrades are not what many nature and sports photographers would want in an upgrade. This leaves a lot of photographers with Canon equipment exclaiming, “What the…”

It’s interesting to note that while Canon appears to have shifted its focus to catering to videographers, Nikon still embraces the needs and desires of the landscape still shooter, as evidenced with the addition of the full-frame, 36MP sensor D800, which carries features similar to the 5D MARK III, although it’s frame-per-second rate is much slower (4 fps for the Nikon vs. 6 fps for the Canon). I have not had the opportunity to “play” with the D800, but in images I’ve seen, the detail is nothing short of incredible. For my particular style of image making (where detail makes or breaks an image), this new camera whets my appetite.

Yes, my friends who shoot Nikon are already teasing me that I’ve “seen the light” of Nikon.

In reality, switching systems is an arduous task. I’ve accumulated 12 lenses, a couple of flash units, a few tele-extenders and extension tubes, plus a bounty of accessories. None of which is compatible with the Nikon system, and replacing it all would cost somewhere in the range of a nice, new Porsche.

So on behalf of many photographers (myself included), I humbly ask Canon to go back to the drawing board. I don’t want to pay a grand more for a one megapixel increase in sensor performance. Please give is a 5D MARK III s, with a 34-36 MP sensor and all the trinkets in the new version of the “5,” but without all the video stuff. We don’t use it anyway. We capture the beauty of the world, one image at a time.

Oooohhhh…

In his role as Forrest Gump, Tom Hanks made a great summation when he said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know that you’re gonna get.” Sunrises and sunsets are the same way: even if the sky is deeply overcast, don’t discount the possibility of getting a great shot. And even if the day looks great, the sunset may not be flattering.

Case in point: I was on the Big Island for a couple days of shooting Hawaiian Green Sea Turtles (honu) that come out in the afternoon to nap after gorging themselves on Limu (Hawaiian seaweed). There was a deep overcast (Mother Nature’s soft box) that hung over the Island all day, which worked well for photographing the honu, but probably wouldn’t bode well for that evening’s sunset. As my flight back to Maui was later in the evening, I decided to chance a good sunset, and I set about finding a good location.

I found the right spot about 30 minutes before sundown. Tucked beside a small beach, a small lava bay opened towards the ocean - the lava topography providing ample places for the ocean to bounce and course its way towards shore like a pinball machine of sea foam. It was beautiful, but the drab overcast left the scene looking dank and dull. I setup my camera anyway, hoping that the atmospheric conditions would change.

As time passed, the conditions did change. More clouds rolled in, and with 15-minutes before sunset, I was beginning to feel as though I was in Seattle in January, albeit much warmer.

With five minutes left on the sunset clock, the sky started to gain a pinkish glow and the sun started to peek through a small break in the clouds. As the sun descended through the thick layer of vog, it shone like a crimson orb, backlighting the rolling surf with intense aquas and white foam. It was two minutes of sheer bliss that ended as quickly as it began.

Similarly, I’ve seen countless days where I’ve left my studio in incredible weather, get to my shooting location, setup the camera and watch it deteriorate to downright ugly within minutes. It’s truly interesting how opportunity and chance interplay in photography, especially when it comes to weather and other atmospheric conditions.

This week, the weather has been rather bipolar: High winds, driving rain, and thick clouds followed by clear and sunny skies, all changing by the hour. That still didn’t stop me from dragging a friend along with me to Mokapu beach to catch a sunset. As I setup my tripod, he was hesitant, bemoaning the prevailing conditions which weren’t favorable. I convinced him to setup his gear, luring him with a Diet Coke.

Looking at my watch, I knew the sun had about 20 minutes before it dropped beneath the horizon, but you could have fooled us at the darkening gray scene. In moments, the cloud layer at the horizon thinned, the sun peeked through, and a warm glow settled over the ocean. A collective “Oooohhh” Our shutters started clicking and the clouds literally parted.

With the sun set and twilight’s glow upon us, we marveled at the incredible scene that evolved from nothing. We took a chance and were rewarded. The weather today isn’t all that great, but I’m going to chance it. I can’t wait to see what surprise is in store for my lens tonight.

Looking Back to Look Forward

I celebrated my 43^rd year on Mother Earth last week. I received a bunch of well wishes, thoughts and questions. There was one email from a friend that made me stop and think, which turned into several hours of pondering. The question was: “If you could have a do-over in life, what would you do differently, and what would you be shooting?”

That’s a difficult one to answer, as we’re a product of our collective experiences. Are there opportunities, decisions and risks I might have chosen differently? Sure. Would I be the same person I am today? Definitely not.

There are certainly times where I should have weighed the risks of pushing my body beyond what I thought I could do (which probably would have saved a few trips to the doctor, and a drawer full of splints and braces), done a little better diligence prepping for photo trips (especially in allotting time) and listened more to, and put more stock in, my inner voice (or gut feeling). There were days when I planned to go shooting, but didn’t for some reason or another, only to learn that I had missed some of the biggest waves ever seen at Pe’ahi (Jaws), or the elusive green flash at sunset.

Looking back, there were certainly a few opportunities I wished I hadn’t passed on (such as taken the race car driver path, or extended my career as an automotive journalist), but they don’t invoke the “What the heck was I thinking?!” slap to the back of the head. And yes, there were a few opportunities that I jumped in feet first with great anticipation, work and determination, only later to leave penniless and scarred deeply.

But this life that I’ve been blessed to live – through the roller coaster of life that included the good, the bad and sometimes the ugly – is one I would never change.

For me, life is like photography. It’s seeing things, and working in a unique way that is completely your own. It’s an endless learning curve where we make mistakes, and (hopefully) learn from them, so we don’t (again, hopefully) make the same mistake again. Similarly, we try a new photo technique or something different in life and learn and new trade or a new way to make images.

Heck, I’ve shunned peanut butter for most of my life (it was a consistency thing). I finally tried it again last year, and now I can’t get enough of it (especially macadamia nut butter – ono grinds!).

The thought of changing my photography style (and even my chosen genre of imagery) sends shivers down my spine. I’ve always had too passions in my life: Cars and nature. There are no two subjects I’d rather capture (well, I might add antique and classic power boats to that list, as there’s nothing like a wooden boat with a Packard Liberty V12 beneath the hatch).

That all said, there is one thing I wish I could definitely change: I wish I had a bit more melanin in my complexion so I wouldn’t have to slather myself in SPF 5,000 every time I wanted to go outdoors! Besides, sun burns are a pain… literally.