Analog in a Digital World

Lately, I’ve been feeling nostalgic.  I’ve been sorting my latest images while listening to some of my vinyl collection that I spin on an old Technics turntable. Sunsets to Pat Metheny’s 1977 Watercolors; Humpback Whales seemingly fit to Rush’s Hemispheres (vintage 1978), and crashing waves at Keanae to Synchronicity, released in 1983 by the Police. The fidelity isn’t nearly as crisp as a re-mastered digital download – there’s a decent amount of pop and hiss as the disc turns on the platter – but there’s no mistaking the smooth notes picked up by the needle, which would only be smoother if I were running the tunes through a tube amplifier. 

Definitely old school.

After flipping to the B-side of Chubby Checker’s Let’s Twist Again (an original 1961 pressing), I went to my camera locker and pulled out a torn and assignment-weary camera bag. Unzipping the top, I removed the Domke wrapped body and took a seat at my work bench. As I unwrapped the camera, I couldn’t help but smile, as looking at my Canon EOS-3 opened a floodgate of memories: Film – Vinyl’s analog equivalent.

The EOS-3 was my last major film camera purchase, and it was a helluva workhorse, shooting at 7 fps with the power booster attached, a 45-point auto focus system and it was darn rugged – surviving rain, mud, and a few accidental drops. It’s literally traveled the world (at least three times), and I hate to think how many thousands of rolls of film that have passed through the shutter plane. Yet I can pop in a 2CR5 battery, grab a roll of Fuji Velvia 100 out of the ‘fridge and shoot like a mad man, and still get great images, albeit 36 at a shot.

Ten years ago, I thought nothing of buying a brick or two of Velvia at Samy’s Camera in Los Angeles (per assignment), as I was a faithful bracketer, and multiple setups were the norm, so art directors had choices (and I had a better chance of getting more images published, which translated into bigger pay checks). I used to wear two over-sized fanny packs (OK. You can stop giggling), one carrying fresh film, the other with exposed cartridges. It was always a challenge to change rolls in a helicopter, or out in an ever-moving boat. Inevitably, the camera would be rewinding a spent roll, and a whale would breach right in front of me, or a car would go spinning off the track.

Damn.

Then there’s the processing, which had its plusses and minuses. One of the things I miss about the wet darkroom is the anticipation – exposing the paper, placing it into the developer and waiting for the image to magically appear – a process that gave you gratification if you exposed well, or a reason to recite the George Carlin Nasty Seven if a sheet of 11x14 sheet of Ilford paper were wasted. For the most part (as long as your equipment is properly profiled), it’s pretty hard to radically screw up a digital print, as what you see is what you get. Of course, if you’re printing on glossy paper, and you’ve selected a fine-art textured paper, the prints will look decidedly weird.

But I digress…

I pulled a roll of Velvia from the reefer, placed it on the kitchen counter and let it warm to room temperature for an hour. Tearing open the box, I loaded the roll into the A-3, shut the back, and the familiar whir of the motor drive winding the film to the first frame ignited my appetite for some macros.

I took my time, composing the shot, double checking the meter, and bracketing straight up, a third under and a half-stop under. After 12 setups, the drive went into action, rewinding the spent roll back into its light-tight cassette. I left the spent film on my desk for a few days, before deciding to send it off to A&I color. I should have it back in a few days, but in the meantime, I’ll be busy cleaning off the old light table and looking for my 10X loupe. Now, where did I put that box of Print File slide sleeves?

Put on Your Big Boy Pants and Deal with It

Weather.

If there’s one thing that outdoor photographers have, a love/hate relationship with, it’s Mother Nature. Sometimes, she’ll provide some much appreciated clouds, creating a magnificent soft box for shooting botanicals or to provide just enough of a neutral density effect at sunset. Other times, she provides amazing challenges with stream-swelling downpours or gale-force winds. No matter the weather, we can still come back with amazing shots, as long as you’re properly prepared.

Preparing for my annual Day with the Whales workshop last week, I received numerous calls from participants, who were tracking the weather radar north of Hawaii. This time of year, it’s not uncommon for weather to develop to the north-east, and then drop into the Islands, and several people were wondering if the workshop would be rained out.

I too kept a close eye on the weather. Not to worry about rain, but big swells that would turn into a small craft advisory, which would mean the boat would stay in the harbor. Fortunately, the day proved calm, bright and beautiful, but even if it was rainy, it doesn’t mean you can’t shoot.

A few weeks ago, I was shooting with a client in Kula. The day started with scattered cloudy skies. As we progressed through our macro flora workshop, the skies darkened, and my student expressed concern about the weather. I told her not to worry, pulled a few clear wastebasket bags from my Lowepro backpack, along with a 32-gallon monster for his camera bag.

A few minutes later, a few rain drops appeared. My client asked, “Should we start packing up before the rain really starts?”

“Naw,” I smiled. “Dunno about you, but I don’t melt in the rain.”

“But what about our gear?” He said, a bit of tremor in his voice.

“I’ve got you covered,” I said, and proceeded to poke a hole in the bottom of the clear waste bag, gently stretching the plastic over the end of his lens, then draping the rest over the camera. “Okay, now your camera’s ready for the rain. You can still shoot and see your controls.”

I then grabbed his camera bag, and placed it inside the outdoor waste bag. “All set.” I noted.

A few moments later, I had plastic over my lens 5D MARK III and 50mm Macro, then I deployed the integrated rain cover over the Pro Trekker 400, just as the skies opened up.

“Really, we’re going to shoot in this?” my pupil asked as he donned a poncho.

“You bet we are, and I’m hoping it gets a bit heavier,” I noted.

“Whaaaaaa?”

I took my student’s arm, and pulled him towards a throng of blooming Black Mink Protea. His eyes flew open at the sight of the delicate hairs on the petals, holding onto the rain droplets and reflecting other parts of the flower.

“Now, point your 100mm macro into the bowl of the bloom, and focus on that droplet,” I said, pointing into the flower.

For the next thirty-some-odd minutes, he shot a variety of protea in the rain, sloshing through soggy grass, while I shielded the business end of his lens from the elements.

“This is great,” he exclaimed!  I would have never thought to shoot macros in the rain.”

“Our first instinct is to get out of the elements.” I told him. “But if you use the inclement weather to your advantage, most of the time you’ll come back with even better images that if it were a bright sunny day.”

I went on to tell him about a trip I did to Hana many years ago with my Hanai Mom, Wendy. Like that day at the arboretum, it had been raining, and I wasn’t about to get my camera wet. She finally turned to me and told me to put on my big boy pants and deal with it. So I covered my camera and shot some amazing images. Since then, whenever the weather’s bad, I remember her big boy pants comment, and I happily trudge into the rain.

We shared a laugh, and agreed that although our big boy pants (and the rest of us) were wet, our gear was not, and our images captured that day were special, with the water enhancing the colors and water droplets reflecting the inner beauty of the blooms. We were thankful for the rain, and I was even more thankful for the waterproof seat covers in my truck.

Test Drive

A few weeks back, I wrote about the dilemma many photographers face: The decision whether or not to upgrade their gear (To Upgrade or Not to Upgrade, That is the Question). In my quest to find the “right” camera that I always carry, I’ve spent a lot of time scouring thousands of reviews on what seems like hundreds of Web sites. So far, one thing has become clear: Nearly all the cameras purchased were selected without ever touching it.

This got me thinking: Why are people making a significant purchase without taking the camera or lens out for a test drive? Think about it: you test drive a car before purchasing it. You probably try on clothing before walking to the register with it. The same goes for a house or apartment – would you buy it without at least a walk through? Huh? You would? You're nuts!!

But I digress - over the last three weeks, I’ve rented three cameras to the tune of a couple hundred bucks. So far, it’s some of the best money I’ve spent, and one helluvan education. To wit: looking at the specifications of the Canon SX50HS, it’s a photographer’s dream, RAW capture, a 24-1200mm lens range, 8 fps shooting, etc. But giving the camera a true field test shows softness in the edges of the image, clunky zooming, and anything of ISO 100 nets digital noise. It’s a Jack of all trades, and a master of none.

That’s not to say that it’s a bad camera – in fact, it’s great for an amateur shooter that wants to have an all-in-one for traveling or capturing the kids at a soccer game. But if you’re expecting make sharp 40X60 prints of a fabulous sunset, you’ll be disappointed. Trust me, I know.

I then turned to lensrentals.com, and ordered a Canon G15 for a week. Canon’s latest “G” is by far the best to date. The images are incredibly sharp, due in part to the f/2.8 lens. This was the first G camera where I was truly impressed, having the ability to open up to 2.8 and throw the background into oblivion, or stop down to f/20 and keep the entire scene tack sharp. With nearly all the bells and whistles you would find on a DSLR, I was quickly making fantastic images.

For my style of shooting, I was on the right track, but there was a fly in the ointment: the 28mm effective wide angle wasn’t as wide as I’d like. True, for an additional fifty bucks, you can get an adapter and attach a wide angle filter, but image quality is compromised. And shooting with a split ND filter exposes an interesting dilemma, confusing the meter and throwing exposure to the wind as it tries to adjust for the filter’s light compensation.

By this time, I was beyond frustrated. Would I ever find a camera that I could continually carry with me, and allow me to capture the images I wanted to get, that’s a small package? The answer turned to be yes and no.

Leave it to my wife to quietly watch the trials and tribulations, and pose a suggestion that turned out to be the perfect solution:

“If you can’t find the right new camera to carry with you, do you have one you’re thinking of replacing? Why not use the old camera as the carry-around?”

Yes, I married a genius.

My Canon 1D MARK III has been showing its age, its “odometer” showing a bit over 140K shutter actuations and the focusing not nearly as quick or accurate as my 5D Mark III. While it isn’t my first choice of camera to grab when running out of the studio, it is still a great camera for grab shots, or for this particular need. It’s a stalwart, that’s netted me thousands of incredible Humpback Whale images. Plus, it’s the Timex of Canon’s lineup: It’s seen about as much salt spray as a merchant mariner, been dropped or banged around the deck and it’s still working like a champ – I couldn’t just retire it. Besides, its “trade in” value is a mere 5% of what I originally paid for it, so it makes financial sense to keep using it until it kicks the bucket.

So not I have a Canon 7D in my “whale pack.” It’s a couple frames-per-second slower, but the metering and focusing systems area a marked improvement over my 1D-M-tres. Coupled with my Sigma 70-200 f/2.8, my image “kill ratio” has more than doubled – especially in rough seas where quick and accurate focusing is critical.

Now, the 1D MARK III resides in a Lowepro bag, and wherever I go, it goes with me. It still doesn’t get used very much, but whenever I see something magnificent, I no longer mutter the George Carlin Nasty Seven under my breath and wish I had a camera with me. Instead, I pull out my Trusty 1D MARK III and shoot away.

I wonder what other great ideas my wife has?