Ah Shootz!

Looking Back to Look Forward

2012-02-02T08:09:00.001-10:00

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.

The Photographer's 12 days of Christmas

2011-12-22T10:20:00.001-10:00

On the first day of Christmas, my assistant gave to me a winning photo entry.

On the second day of Christmas my assistant gave to me two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the third day of Christmas my assistant gave to me three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the fourth day of Christmas my assistant gave to me four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the fifth day of Christmas my assistant gave to me five DSLRs. Four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the sixth day of Christmas my assistant gave to me six workshop bookings, five DSLRs. Four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the seventh day of Christmas my assistant gave to me seven flashes flashing, six workshop bookings, five DSLRs. Four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the eighth day of Christmas my assistant gave to me eight tripods holding, seven flashes flashing, six workshop bookings, five DSLRs. Four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the ninth day of Christmas my assistant gave to me nine software plug-ins, eight tripods holding, seven flashes flashing, six workshop bookings, five DSLRs. Four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the tenth day of Christmas my assistant gave to me ten ND filters, nine software plug-ins, eight tripods holding, seven flashes flashing, six workshop bookings, five DSLRs. Four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my assistant gave to me eleven Lens Babies, ten ND filters, nine software plug-ins, eight tripods holding, seven flashes flashing, six workshop bookings, five DSLRs. Four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my assistant gave to me twelve glossy prints, eleven Lens Babies, ten ND filters, nine software plug-ins, eight tripods holding, seven flashes flashing, six workshop bookings, five DSLRs. Four photo mags, three camera bags, two lagging shutters and a winning photo entry.

What to Give a Photographer for the Holidays

2011-12-08T12:54:00.007-10:00

What to Give a Photographer for the Holidays

Over the past few days, I’ve received a several messages from people wondering what to give a photographer for the holidays. Honestly, it’s a difficult question to answer, as everyone’s needs, wants and desires differ. However, there are a few items that I think any photographer would appreciate. Here’s a few, in no particular order...

1. Photographic Workshop – There isn’t a photographer I know who would pass up a workshop. Even seasoned pros take the time to learn from other shooters, as photography is continually evolving, new imaging software is being introduced and it’s human nature to learn. Workshops are available for all skill levels and genres of photography, and can either be private or in groups, but I find that most people prefer private workshops, where we concentrate on what you want to learn compared to teaching to the wide needs of a group.

2. Gift Certificate to their Favorite Camera Store – Every camera store I know of (local and online) offers gift certificate. While it might be more personal to give a tangible article, the gift certificate allows the recipient to purchase whatever piece of equipment they feel they need the most now. The needs of a photographer can vary on a day-to-day basis, and a gift certificate can really come in handy. For instance, last year, I had a cable release that decided to go for a “swim.” Thankfully, I had a gift certificate,which I redeemed for a new one.

3. Lens Wipes/Microfiber Cloth - No matter where you live or where you go to shoot, every photographer needs these two items to keep their gear clean. I find that you can get some of the best lens cleaning wipes at, of all places, Walmart. Zeiss Lens Wipes do a fantastic job of cleaning everything from salt spray to whale snot on a lens, and they don’t leave streaks or bits of the tissue on the lens. Conversely, stay away from Flent’s lens wipes (commonly found at Costco), as they tend to mostly smear anything on the lens and leave half the lens tissue on the glass. Microfiber cloths are extremely absorbent, and not only do a great job of cleaning gear, but also can be placed on a camera to absorb rain when shooting in inclement weather.

4. Hand-Held GPS – For outdoor photographers, this can be one of the most useful tools in your arsenal. When shooting in an unfamiliar area, or blazing a trail to a shooting venue, a GPS trail or “bread crumbs” can be indispensable… especially trying to get back to your vehicle after the sun has set. You can also mark points where you want to shoot for future reference, and you can use the coordinates for get tagging images.

5. Image Management Software - Back in the film days, keeping track of your images was pretty simple: Just look through the ol’ shoebox of prints until you found what you were looking for. With today’s digital imaging, the computer is the shoebox, and image management software becomes your fingers. There are two programs that are the “big guns” of image management: ACD Systems’ ACDSee and Adobe’s Lightroom. Both programs allow you to view images, sort them, add key words and make adjustments to your photos. Where they differ is how the software “tracks” your photos. In ACDSee, the program views your images in their original folders. You can setup your own custom “tree” of folders without duplicating files. Lightroom forces your photos into “collections,” usually by date. For portrait shooters or for family photos, this scheme works well. For the outdoor shooter that keeps images in folders and subfolders by type (such as plants > flowers > roses > Sonia), you basically have to create a collection for each variant, which means you have a lot of collections to manage! Lightroom is far more robust in image editing than ACDSee, and sometimes I use both.

6. Subscription to Outdoor Photographer Magazine – There are a bazillion photo mags on the newsstands nowadays, and Outdoor Photographer is the only one I read cover-to-cover. In a typical issue, they cover the latest and greatest gear, include several shooting or software tricks and feature some of the greatest shooters in the world. If anything, it provides inspiration and gives me ideas to incorporate into my shooting or post production workflow.

7. Small First Aid Kit – For around $40, you can find a portable first aid kit that will tuck away in a camera bag. We’re human, and inevitably, accidents happen: Scraped knee, twisted ankle, strained wrist or a hangnail you shouldn’t have tried to remove with your teeth. Chances are, unless you live in a bubble or wrap yourself in bubble wrap, you’ll get a boo-boo sometime out in the field. Having a basic first aid kit is essential, especially one that includes bandages and an ACE bandage. I also now carry an instant ice pack for good reasons (see my previous blog entry, Listening to Your Inner Voice).

8. Bubble Camera Level - Ever shoot a sunset or a panorama, come home, download your images and find that the horizon is askew? Thanks to the folks at Acratech, you can guarantee a level horizon with one of their double-axis sprit levels. It conveniently slips into the camera’s hot shoe and I can vouch that it won’t fade after years of sun exposure. So even though I stand crooked, my pictures aren’t!

9. Sun and Moon Location App - Okay, here’s a freebie. There’s a fantastic app available for Android phones and soon for iPhones and iPads: Sun Surveyor works as a 3D compass that also shows you which direction the sun or moon will rise and set, and at what time. It works off your phone’s GPS, so it’s extremely accurate. You can also see when the sun/moon will rise and set in the future as well, which has helped me plan many a shoot.

10. A massage – Okay. You might think this is dorky, but if you’ve ever hiked several miles with a pack full of camera gear, shot a bunch of images and slid and slithered through a tropical rain forest, when you get home, I guarantee you’ll want three things: A hot shower, an ice-cold beer and a therapeutic massage. Aaahhhhhh….

Happy Holidays!

Ahhhhh...

2011-12-01T10:15:00.001-10:00

Ahhhhh… The sweet smell of Maui air. The door to the 767-300 had only been open a few moments, and my nostrils knew I was home.

I had spent the past week in Los Angeles, mostly on business, but also taking time to visit with family and friends. There were continual reminders of why I had moved to the Aloha State (massive traffic congestion, questionable air quality, dry air and a skyline of buildings), and reminders of what I miss (fully-stocked camera stores, In-n-Out Burger, and well maintained roads).

When you live in the most remote land mass in the world, you tend to appreciate and miss the little things, like selection of product and good Mexican food.

I spent the good part of a day “trolling” through Samy’s Camera, one of the largest camera stores in the Los Angeles area. I walked the aisles, trying not to drool on myself as I looked at lenses, mounds of camera bags, accessories for every need and photo toys of every type.

Then I decided to torture myself with a visit to Fry’s Electronics. There were hard drives for half the cost compared to Maui prices; monitors in every size and resolution; tons of lap tops and a plethora of tablets. I could smell my MasterCard melting in my wallet.

I don’t journey to the mainland as much as I used to. The majority of my travel is inter-island, shooting gigs upon gigs of images. But once in a while, getting “off-island” is a good thing. I get to relive what it’s like to dwell and interact in a big city. I can easily get “stuff” - the George Carlin term for all the useless junk we accumulate in our lives – I might need (or might not if that’s the case), grab a taco from El Cholo, or see Ferraris, Lamborghinis and Bentlys roam the streets of Hollywood like it’s an ordinary thing (which it is).

But it also makes me appreciate the land I call home: There are no billboards, minimal air pollution (only vog from Kilauea when the Kona winds pick up, or when HC&S burns a cane field), no real traffic jams and we’re surrounded by beautiful scenery. Plus I don’t have to wear shoes and socks – slippahs are the official footwear of the Islands!

I already have a few trips to Big America planned for next year: I’ll be packing my bags in April, when I’ll be in Palm Springs for their 2012 Photo Festival, and we’re looking into doing a workshop in the spring. August might find me at the Monterey Historics with a side trip to Lake Tahoe for the annual Wooden Boat show.

Wherever I go, there’ll be a camera slung on my shoulder and a camera pack on my back. Images of Hawaii may be my business, but I love capturing beauty around me, no matter where I am. I remember a workshop I took with Dewitt Jones many years ago. He challenged us to capture the extraordinary in the ordinary, to open our minds and let creativity flow. It’s a challenge I respond to every day, wherever I am. And if I can get a good chile relleno too, that’s certainly a bonus!

Listening to Your Inner Voice

2011-11-29T15:01:00.014-10:00

"Hey Man," my Little Voice said. "Are you sure you wanna even go there?"

I shook my head, trying to ignore the little menehune that was trying to talk some sense into me. It was 5:34 AM. The sun was rising and casting beautiful, warm light into the mouth of Onomea Bay where it merges with Onomea Stream on the Hilo side of the Big Island.

At the time, I wasn’t happy with my choice of shooting location – a little too much up stream, and there was a large lava outcropping that was throwing the composition off. I had decided to wade into the stream with my camera, tripod and bag full of gear. That was the moment my Inner Voice decided to question my intentions.

I mean, c’mon! What could happen? The stream was only about 20 feet across and maybe six-to-eight inches deep. I had my trusty hiking boots on, so what could go wrong? Besides, I knew the other side of the outcropping held the shot I wanted.

Tentatively, I put one foot into the cool water. The rocks in the stream bed looked clean and clear, holding my weight with minimal movement. I took another step, then another, and a few more, my confidence growing with each stride.

Getting astride the honkin’ chunk of lava that was in my way, I had a fleeting mental note spark in my gray matter: Around the other side of the lava, the water movement was decidedly slower. My Inner Voice piped up, “Dude, this has BAD written all over it. Slow down and watch your footing, otherwise you’re goin’ for a swim!”

Again, I ignored my Menehune. All he does is talk too much anyway. Do this. Don’t do that. Blah, blah, yadda, yadda whatever!

The next step I planted in the water started a cascade of events, all in slow motion. I had stepped on a moss-covered rock, with traction on the negative side of the scale. My right leg slipped forward, while the left ankle twisted on rocks giving away. Instinctively, I raised the camera and tripod high into the air as my left knee came crashing down on coarse lava rocks, about 10-inches under the water’s surface.

Trying to get up, I found my left leg was darn near paralyzed from the shock of the impact. And yes, a 45-pound camera pack does not help the situation! I clambered to the side of the embankment, and watched the water turn an unfortunate pink hue. I took a quick assessment: Both shins skinned from knee to ankle, the left knee already swelling beyond the size of asoftball, and there’s a big dent in my pride.

Realizing I wasn’t going to die any time soon, I placed the camera and tripod into the shallows, pulled a split ND from my bag and shot the sunrise. After all, I wasn’t gonna give up an opportunity to shoot, at least not that easily!

As the sun rose, and the shadows got longer, I packed everything up and drug myself up and over the lava outcropping, slithering down the other side towards the trail. There was no way I was gonna venture into the stream again that day! I now had a long hike back to the rental car, and I figured I’d get nailed for the extra cleaning fee, as I was covered, head-to-toe, in Onomea mud.

Twenty-minutes later, I made it to the car. I popped the hatch, swung the camera bag in the back, grabbed a bottle of water and started washing off my wounds. The knee had swollen even more. I was taking a long draw off the water bottle when my Little Voice said, “One small step for man, one big crash and splash! You doofus!” What could I say? The menehune was right. I shouldn’t have been so brash. I should have thought my route through, or looked for an alternate route. I should have listened to my Inner Voice.

So here I am, six weeks later, sitting in the waiting room of my orthopedic surgeon. Soon, I’ll be called into the exam room and he’ll hear my story, probably chuckle under his breath as he prods at my still-unhappy knee.

“Doofus, doo-doo-dee-doofus!” My inner voice sings. “Bet you’ll listen to me next time?!”

“Can it,” I exclaim. “You were right. I was wrong. Let’s get this wheel fixed so we can get back in the action.”

My inner voice smiles, then throws me a wink just as the nurse calls, “Mr. Mead, the doctor will see you now...”

The Rip Off Artist

2011-10-27T11:01:00.003-10:00

Ka-click.

"Excuse me sir," I said. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't photograph my images."

Ka-click!

"Sir, please don't photograph my artwork," I voiced in a stern tone.

Ka-click!

I jumped out of my chair as the gentleman with the Nikon D5100 lowered his camera. I pulled my International symbol'd "Do Not Take Pictures of the Pictures" sign off of the umbrella pole (a mere two inches away from the image he had just shot) and placed it into his hand.

"What's your problem, man?" He asked.

"Sir, the problem is I've asked not to photograph my art, yet you continue to do so."

"So, you should be flattered that I want to take a picture of your stuff," he said.

Flattered that he liked it, yes. But not that he ignored repeated requests to stop photographing my copyrighted images.

There's a little more to it, though. This gentleman spent a minimal amount of effort to shoot one of my pieces. He didn't have to hike five and a half miles on a lava flow. He didn't have to rely on a charcoal respirator to breathe amidst the sulfur dioxide spewing from the ground. He didn't have to bear the heat of 1,500-degree lava as it pours into the ocean... and come back with the shot.

He also didn't camp out for four nights "chasing" after the right sunset, patiently waiting for the right clouds to roll in over the horizon, then timing the waves to get the right water effect. One series was five-years in the making: A full five-shot, humpback whale breach sequence. The first time I got a full breach with a level horizon, while shooting from a 30? Zodiac boat that?s always in motion. This guy never stepped foot on a whale watch boat.

I tried to explain the aspect of copyright and asked him to delete the images, but he had none of it. He merely stomped off, muttering something about the relationship between photographers and donkeys.

Thankfully, he's one of the minority.

This was not, by far, the first time people have shot photos of my images. With the dawn of the digital age, there now seems to be a disproportionate number of individuals that would rather shoot someone else's artwork, than purchase a print or trek to earn their own. At first, it really didn't bother me. Then when I found one of my images on another Web site (with different photo credit), I really felt ripped off.

Many people fail to realize that when a photographer depresses the shutter button and the image is captured, a copyright is instantly assigned. The photographer "owns" the image as his/her creative property. If someone photographs your image, they're basically stealing it. Part of my job, as a photographer, is to educate people on the value of one's images, and taking copyright one step further by registering their images.

Down the road, I know I'll probably run into a few more people, like my recent admirer. Only now, I have my Fuji HS20 EXR at the ready to take the offending photographer's "portrait." I'll then offer a trade: delete the shots of my images on their camera, and I won't pass along their mug shot to my attorney. It's a pretty fair trade, don't you think?

Helping our Ohana

2011-10-14T08:02:00.008-10:00

When a 9.0 magnitude quake and resulting tsunami rocked Japan on March 11, 2011, it rocked Hawai'i too, and not just by the effects of the tsunami's waves battering our Island's shores.

There's great synergy and symmetry with the people of Japan and Hawai'i. Our cultures are intertwined. We are ohana.When the opportunity for us to participate with 49 other world class photographers at this year's PhotoPlus Expo image auction to benefit the victims of the March 11th disaster, we jumped at the chance.

On Friday, October 28th, a limited edition (# 2/50) 11x14 Alumination print of Wailea Nights will be on the auction floor. In the big picture, we hope our small part helps play a big role in providing aid, comfort and aloha to members of our extended ohana in Japan.

If you're in New York for PPE next week, we hope you attend the PDN PhotoPlus Expo Bash and Benefit. We encourage you to bid, and bid big. Not only may you come home with an incredible image from one of 50 incredible photographers, but you'll also help make an incredible difference for those in Japan in need.

FOR IMMEDIATE
RELEASE

Annual PhotoPlus Expo Bash Will Host Benefit for Japan Fundraiser in New York To Help Victims of Earthquake and Tsunami

World Class Photographers Put Original Signed Prints on the Auction Block to Raise Funds for
The Red Cross During Evening of Music, Dancing and Celebration of Photography

New York, NY –October 13, 2011 – PDN PhotoPlus International Conference + Expo announced its annual bash will host a special fundraising event during PhotoPlus Expo on Friday evening, October 28th to benefit the victims of the Japan earthquake and tsunami. The benefit will take place at the Highline Stages located at 440 West 15th Street (between 9th / 10th Ave.) in New York City, from 8:00 p.m. -- 12 midnight. To help raise funds for the Red Cross, fifty of the world's most respected photographers will donate an original print as part of a silent auction that will take place throughout the evening. Benefit attendees will have an opportunity to bid on original, signed images from a broad range of world renowned photographers including Harry Benson, Susan Meiselas, Douglas Kirkland, Ryszard Horowitz, Scott Mead and John Isaac, to name a few.

Tickets for the PhotoPlus Bash and Benefit for Japan event can be purchased online at the PhotoPlus Expo website for $35. After October 26th, tickets will only be available on site for $50. Proceeds from the event will be presented to the Red Cross for its dedicated efforts to aid the victims of the Japan earthquake and tsunami.

"The disaster in Japan last March has had an incredible impact on the photo industry and we wanted to create an event that would allow us to help -- as an entire photo community -- those most affected by the disaster," explains Jeff McQuilkin, Director – PDN PhotoPlus International
Conference & Expo. "The response we received from photographers invited to donate prints for auction has been overwhelming and in most cases their initial response was, 'what else can I do?' The benefit will not only help raise needed funds, but will continue the tradition of PhotoPlus Expo social events as being celebrations of community and photography," McQuilkin
added.

Highline Stages is the venue for this year's PhotoPlus Bash and Benefit for Japan and with 45,000-square-feet of large studio spaces and cycloramas for fashion shoots, video commercials, and productions, it is the perfect backdrop for hosting an event that celebrates the world of photography and motion.

Registration to attend PhotoPlus Expo and WPPI NYC Expo is free through October 25, 2011. The WPPI NYC Expo will be held October 27-28 and PhotoPlus Expo will be held October 27-29 at the Javits Convention Center, New York, NY.

About PDN PhotoPlus InternationalConference + Expo Designed for professionals in the photographic and imaging industries, PhotoPlus Expo showcases the latest advances in photography. Held annually at the Javits Convention Center, attendees have the opportunity to explore an inspiring array of photography and imaging products and services - everything from image capture and color management to retouching and storage - all from the industry's leading
manufacturers. The show also offers over 115 photography and imaging seminars and hands-on labs taught by world-renowned experts with a focus on cutting-edge innovations in digital imaging products and techniques.

About WPPI Wedding & Portrait Photographers International (WPPI), a division of Nielsen Photo Group, is an organization that serves the educational and business needs of wedding and portrait photographers. WPPI is a professional organization that exists to help member
photographers by providing them with exclusive information, programs and professional services to assist with their photographic artistry and business needs. WPPI routinely supplies its members with new benefits and valuable industry information enabling them to succeed in today’s active photo market business.

Website: http://www.photoplusexpo.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/photoplusexpo
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/photoplusexpo

Is Digital Photography Really the Way to Go?

2011-09-29T11:54:00.001-10:00

Twenty-five years ago, we never would have thought that anything but a Polaroid camera could give you the instant gratification of seeing your photograph seconds (well, a minute) after clicking the shutter button. But today, viewing your image on the LCD screen of a camera a few seconds after shooting is now de rigueur in our photographic society.

I often reminisce with friends and colleagues about “the good old days.” What now seems to be a dying trend, when we would load a roll of Kodachrome 64 in the back of a Pentax K1000 or Canon EOS 1, and utilize only a light meter and instincts to craft a great image. There was an art to understand the relationship between color, contrast, and light. Mixing it with composition and adding a dash of luck when you experimented. Today it’s a new game, written in ones and zeros.

In our analog days, we’d come home from a shoot with a fanny pack full of exposed rolls of film. The next day, we’d process the images in the lab, or in later years, drive to the local lab, as processing 40 + rolls of film can be daunting in a small studio. From the time we depressed the shutter button, to when the slides were spread across the light table was measured in days, not seconds.

Sorting was done manually, with “bad” images being unceremoniously tossed into the trash can. Those images we deemed “worthy,” were carefully placed in slide sleeves, cataloged and indexed before being hung in a file next to its hundreds of brethren.

Then there was my Mom. She used a Keds shoe box.

Today, my file cabinets have a layer of dust, replaced by hard drives in a server, redundantly backed up to a Drobo data robot, and a third copy in “the cloud.” Images that aren’t up to snuff are deleted, and memory cards reformatted, which means I save thousands of dollars per year with 35mm film and developing out of the equation. I have an efficient workflow and key wording system in place, where I can find any image in a matter of minutes. It’s not quite as easy as locating an image from my slide collection, I know which drawer to pull and which section it’s located in – I can pull it in seconds.

While I miss working in the darkroom (although my lungs and fingers do not miss the fumes and occasional contact with D76 developer and fixer), the digital equivalent is much faster, more precise and you don’t have to work with chemicals!

However, the digital darkroom does have its downfalls. Gone are the days of burning and dodging the light cast from the enlarger in an effort to make the perfect print; the anticipation from an exposed piece of paper as it floats in a tray of developer, the image ghosting to life; and the worry of someone opening the door to the darkroom while you’re exposing the paper! The biggest issue I’ve faced (as well as a myriad of other shooters) today is the death of a drive full of images, especially if it had not been recently backed up. I learned a long time ago that it’s not a matter of if a drive will fail, but when.

Recently, we experienced another form of digital frustration: The self-rebooting computer, AKA the Blue Screen of Death. With help from error logs, we traced the problem not to a hardware issue, or a software problem, but an image size issue. With today’s big megapixel cameras and raw processing, I routinely work with images in the 900 MB to 1.2 GB file size range. This particular machine was older, running Windows XP Professional. It has 8GB of RAM, but XP can only “see” or use 4GB, so it was literally choking on the large files, and shutting itself off as a form of protection. When this machine was built, my file sizes were about 360MB, so it ran like a champ. Not so much today. Hence its probable future role as an Umbuntu-running-kick-ass photo server.

As I’ve found in my journey through the digital realm, shooting with film was less complicated, but carried a fair level of stress, especially when the lab called to tell me there had been a “issue” while developing my slides (read: the processing machine broke down while the film was in the developer).

Do I miss the old days of photography? Sure I do. Would I ever go back to film full time? No way in h-e-double-hockey-sticks. With digital, you deal with then anxiety of drive failure or the computer wigging out. However, with backups and drive images, digital is really the way to go.

Enjoying the Moment

2011-09-08T12:53:00.002-10:00

It was a typical evening on Maui: I’m out on a lava outcropping, timing the waves and watching the sun as it descends towards the horizon. Simultaneously, I'm shooting, checking the histogram, tuning in subtle exposure changes and making slight composure variations.

Suddenly, there’s an unfamiliar “clunk” within the camera, and my one-second exposure is suddenly in the 30-second range. With the light getting better and better with each passing second, I quickly pull the camera off the tripod and pull the lens.

Ugh.

There, lying askew within the camera, is the mirror. I try to put it back in place, but it’s separated from the mechanism and my Canon 5D is now a paperweight.

After reciting the George Carlin Nasty Seven, I tried to think of a way to salvage the situation. I’m too far from the studio to grab another body, I have the Canon G10, but the card if full from shooting underwater earlier in the day. There’s the camera on my phone, but without any aperture adjustment in the lens, I can’t control the light the way I want. What the heck am I gonna do?

It’s simple: enjoy the moment.

I pulled a bottle of water out of my pack and found a nice scoop in the lava to serve as a seat. And for the first time in I-don’t-know-when, I watch the sunset. There’s no shutter release in my hand, I’m not counting waves, and I’m not checking exposure values. All the gear is tucked away in the pack, and there’s no salt spray to continually wipe from the lens.

The sun dips low towards the blue Pacific, and the sky fills with incredible gradients of yellow and orange, while the bottoms of the clouds start turning an incredible peach color with reddish edges. I’m awestruck by the beauty, an incredible ever-changing palette of colors, waves crashing and water swirling against lava formations. Black crabs scramble from rock to rock and mynah birds squawk as they fly by.

Normally, I watch sunsets as snippets in time, frame by frame. This was one of the rare moments to really watch a sunset, to be immersed in the beauty and tranquility. While I may not have captured the scene on a memory card, it’s burned into my memory. Not a sunset lost, but a moment enjoyed. I should probably do this more often.

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

2011-08-31T13:09:00.001-10:00

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

Visiting the USS Arizona Memorial will change your life.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

Safety Check

2011-08-17T09:56:00.001-10:00

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

2011-08-11T08:35:00.003-10:00

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

2011-08-05T11:41:00.001-10:00

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?

Bridging the Gap

2011-07-28T12:37:00.001-10:00

I’ve been dealing with a bit of a dilemma for a while. At my weekly venues, I’ve been incorporating more and more larger pieces, which means they take up more space in my truck. I knew the time would come that I would have to leave something back at the studio so I could accommodate my display pieces. The part of my “kit” that now stays behind is my camera bag, and yes, it poses a major issue: When that once-in-a-lifetime scene presents itself while I’m out and about, how can I capture it?

For a while, I’ve been carrying my trusty Canon G10. The problem is the lens has a short focal length, and digital noise is a factor anytime you shoot over iso 100. And if I wanted to shoot a sunset, I would have to do without my trusty split ND filters. So I hit the Internet and started researching some options.

I had some pretty specific features in mind: I needed focal coverage from 24mm to 300mm+ without a motorized mechanism, the lens needed a threaded end so I could attach my split ND or UV filter, shooting in RAW format was a must, it had to have the option of full manual control, including focusing, and it had to fit under the seat of my truck.

Out of the thousands of cameras available on the market, there was only one that fit the bill: Fuji’s HS20EXR.

The HS20EXR plays in a very small category. It has all the features you’d want in a DSLR, yet it’s about 1/3 the size and can be fully automated like a point and shoot. In fact, it’s in the “Bridge” category, in that it bridges the gap between a point and shoot and it’s big brethren DSLR.

Of course, the camera has its plusses and minuses. On the happy face side of the coin, it has a 24-720 mm (equivalent) lens with manual twist-zoom and 58mm threads, so you can screw on nearly any filter that’s available. The camera shoots in RAW, or a range of Jpeg modes, or combinations of RAW + Jpeg. Its 16MP sensor and processing engine renders incredible color and contrast for images that rival DSLRs that cost thousands of dollars more, and it runs on good, old-fashioned AA batteries.

But this camera isn’t a bed of roses. For one, because it doesn’t have an internal buffer memory, it’s painfully slow to record RAW images, even with the fastest SDHC card on the market. We’re talking real slow. Autofocus is not the quickest, and in low-contrast or low-light conditions, it’s almost impossible for it to nail a focus point. And there’s the digital viewfinder that’s pretty much useless. Just use the three-inch LCD screen on the back.

So yeah, it’s not perfect, but for the size and all of the great features it has, it fits the bill for getting images that I otherwise wouldn’t have if I didn’t have my bag of gear with me.

Yesterday, the HS20 proved it metal. I got a request from an outlet: a client was looking for a shot of a single lavender bloom with the rest of the plant out of focus. Did I have one? As I was already in my truck, I headed for Alii Lavender farm. Their back plot was in full bloom and I found a beautiful specimen to shoot. I put the Fuji into aperture priority, dialed the f-stop to the 2.8 mark and set the exposure to ½-stop under. The result was magic – a beautifully focused lavender stalk with a sea of out of focus purple and green in the background. I downloaded the image to my laptop, make a quick tweak in the white balance and emailed the image to the client. Five minutes later, I had an order.

Bridge cameras may not be the be-all, do-all that a photographer wants, but it comes fairly close. Would it replace the 40+ pounds of camera gear I normally carry around? Not a chance. With my DSLRs and lenses, I’m ready for anything, but in a pinch without my “bag of toys,” the Fuji HS20EXR bridges the gap between hero and zero.

Eeeeewwww!

2011-06-16T11:37:00.000-10:00

A friend of mine called yesterday, asking if they could bring a camera over for me to look at. It belongs to a family member and they were looking to buy it. They arrived at the studio a half-hour later and pulled a five-year-old bridge camera out of a bag.

I fought the gag reflex.

The camera, once a pristine high-end model of its day was encrusted in dirt, sand, suntan lotion and other unidentifiable goo. There was an audible crunch of sand between gears as the lens swung through its 30X optical range, and the body looked as though it had spent its tenure at the School of Hard Knocks. It still took great pictures, but how long would it continue to perform in its present condition is anyone’s guess. I valued the camera (listing all its faults) at $75. Had it been better cared for, it might have fetched $150.

Deal made, my friend asked if I could clean it up a bit. So with lens wipes, compressed air and a paint brush, I started cleaning years of neglect from the camera.

Within 30 minutes, I had her clean as a whistle on the outside. A few taps on the lens dislodged the few grains of sand, and the lens smoothly traversed from wide angle to telephoto. A bit of work on the flash hot shoe with a pink eraser brought it back to life, and a couple of minutes with car polish helped fill the minute scratches on the back LCD.

A half hour of elbow grease gained my friend doubled her purchase value, and she’s got a great camera.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a camera with the ukus. Many come to me in a sad state of affairs. Some I can resurrect and others are relegated to the electronic recycling pile. While some of the cameras suffered from direct neglect, other maladies are caused by simple lack of knowledge.

For instance, here in Hawai’i, we are graced with 11 of the 13 climate zones in the world. We have deserts (yes, really!), tropical rainforests, craggy mountains and miles of shoreline. In one day, a camera may see sub-zero temperatures (sunrise at Haleakala or visiting the observatories atop Mauna Kea) and hot, moist, salty conditions on a beach. Seeing such temperature and moisture differences in a matter of hours can wreck havoc on camera electronics and lenses.

The key to keeping everything working in adverse conditions is proper care and maintenance. Shooting a sunrise at 10,000-plus feet in freezing conditions is rougher on your body than your camera, but like us, camera batteries don’t like the cold – it’ll zap the power quickly. I always recommend carrying the fully-charged battery in your pocket to keep it warm, then inserting it into the camera when you’re ready to shoot. I also keep a spare in another pocket, keeping it warm and ready to use should the primary battery run out of juice.

When coming down off a mountain or volcano, you also want the camera to acclimatize to the increasing warm and moist air. I had a friend who shot sunrise at Haleakala, then put his camera into a cooler. When he pulled it out of the cooler in Kihei (with a 51-degree change in ambient temperature), the camera lenses and view finder immediately fogged, making the equipment unusable until the glass cleared. Usually, I hang my camera on the passenger head rest for the trip down the volcano, letting it slowly warm up. By the time I reach Kahului, it’s internally (and externally) to ambient temperature.

Near the ocean, salt spray can wreck havoc on camera electronics and mechanics. When at all possible, I try to avoid changing lenses - blowing sand and salt water vapor can dirty a sensor in no time. If I have to swap lenses, I place the camera on my tripod, and then cover the camera in a large plastic garbage bag. Like a “Cone of Silence” to the wind, you can now change your lenses with little worry about stuff getting inside. I also use the bag to keep salt spray off the camera, removing it only when I want to shoot.

When the light is gone, the equipment packed up and I’m back in the studio, my first order of business is to clean all my gear thoroughly. I use a damp terry cloth towel to wipe off the accumulated dust and salt spray, then following up with lens wipes and compressed air to dry.

Storage and transporting your cameras is another consideration to your equipment’s longevity. I store all my gear in an aluminum cabinet with several large desiccant packs on the shelves to absorb any wayward moisture. Getting from shoot to shoot, I’ve found a photo backpack to be indispensible. Many camera bags come with a plethora of hook-and-loop-fastened, padded dividers. After configuring the interior of the bag, I usually have several dividers left over, which I use as extra lens cushioning.

For years, I used a traditional over-the-shoulder, camera bag, but as my equipment list grew, so did my bag, and the subsequent pains in the back and shoulder having to lug 40-some-odd pounds of gear. Converting to a photo backpack has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It even distributes the weight of my gear, plus I can attach my tripod to the back when I need both hands for climbing.

Helping to keep my equipment in top condition, I send everything into the Canon Service Center twice a year. I have the crew clean the sensors, check focusing and metering systems, clean and service lenses and give my gear a clean bill of health. They also “deep clean” the camera, getting anything out of the nooks and crannies I may have missed. The best thing is that I usually get my gear back in a week.

To date, I’ve only had one camera malfunction in my career as a photographer, and it wasn’t caused from dirt or abuse, but a known defect. I’ve probably had some luck on my side, but the way I see it, an ounce of prevention is certainly worth a pound of cure for your camera gear.

The Human Octopus

2011-06-16T08:56:00.002-10:00

Beside my desk, I have a “To-Do” list. It’s on a 5X8 yellow pad with 25 lines per page. My list of things to do today encompass six pages. Some of the items are very important (shipping orders). Others, not so much (test a new forthcoming paper for the manufacturer). The other hundred-plus items lay in between.

After a deep sigh and a swig of coffee, I ponder my options:

Say, “Screw it,” grab the camera bag and tripod and hit the road (what I’d really like to do).

Pick a fun, choice project and run with it

Delegate tasks to… oh yeah, I have no one to delegate to.

Attack the list and get done what I can.

Prioritize and methodically whittle the items on the list.

The first three would be grand, but I’ll end up paying for it in the end. Number four, well that’s what I used to always do: Work hours on end like a mad man, running down the list, crossing off projects with a red marker as I went.

Now, I’ve learned to prioritize and combine tasks to streamline my time. And while I may still seem like a one-armed, wall paper hanger at times, at least I’m not pulling my hair out in fist-fulls.

Before I started prioritizing my lists, I felt like I never got anything done. My shooting schedule became erratic, important projects (like updating images on my Web Site) were continually placed on the back burner and I was always exhausted. Probably because I never really slept, but napped a few hours at night.

For today, I have six pieces to ship, four canvas giclees to print and a stack or prints to mat and mount. There are nearly 700 images to download from last night’s shoot, and they need to be sorted, tagged and key worded so I can send them to the copyright office. I have to layout a new brochure and upload it to the printer. There’s a meeting with my accountant at 2PM and I want to shoot a sunset at Ulua Beach. Time to divide and conquer.

I load a roll of canvas into the Canon iPF8300 and open the four images to print into the RIP program and bring the print heads to life. As the canvas starts to flow out of the printer, I load my CF cards into the reader and start the download to the “NEW IMAGES” file. While the two tasks are running, I start matting and mounting prints.

The printer finishes the job as I place the last print into the plastic sleeve. I cut off the canvas and put the prints on the drying rack to cure overnight.

Back in the studio, there’s another four minutes left on the download, so I now I have to make a decision: I can start tagging/sorting/key wording the new images or I can build the brochure. I’ve needed a new brochure for several months, as the photos on the current one are stale, and the images I have in mind for the new version are much more vibrant and eye-catching. Besides, the new images are less than a day old and for new stock, so I can put them off for a day.

I open Adobe Illustrator and start designing, adding text and images. An hour and a half later, I’m done and just in time to meet with our accountant. Our chat runs a bit longer than expected, but I have enough time to drive back to the studio and prep cameras and gear before setting out for tonight’s sunset shoot. I grab the parcels to be dropped off at UPS and head out the door

Driving down Haleakala Highway, I recap the day and marvel on how I’ve become a human octopus, getting a lot done in eight hours of time, and not feeling rushed or freaked out about getting things done. I pull into the UPS depot, hand the packages to my friend, Malia, and head out on the Mokulele Highway towards Kihei and cruise down to Ulua Beach in Wailea.

I’ve got nearly an hour before the sun dips below the horizon, so I explore potential places to shoot, watching the water current and keeping an eye on the great gaseous orb in the sky. I find the right spot, with good water motion, some lava rocks to add contrast and foreground content and the sun falling over the island of Kaho'olawe. I relax on the sand, marveling at the beauty before me. My to-do list has had a huge chunk carved out of it, and what’s left is not immediately time sensitive. I afford to let my mind flow free and get in rhythm with the waves.

The sun dips down behind a cloud and I start shooting. The waves gently wash up the shore, kissing the lava. With God light spilling down from the clouds to the water, the magic of the moment happens and the shutter clicks away.

I could be back in my studio slaving away, fretting and working up the blood pressure. But no, I’m enjoying the scene spread before me, watching Mother Nature do her magic. My eight arms, now reduced to two.

2011-01-11T18:31:00.001-10:00

Yesterday marked my first trip back to the mainland in several years. There’s a reason why I don’t like to travel from the Islands: I seem to end up seated behind a jerk for five and a half hours. To wit, not more than two minutes into my flight from Honolulu to L.A. yesterday, and the bone head in seat 36A slams his seat to the fully reclined position. If I shaka, I can literally touch my thumb to his seat, and my pinky to my chest.

At first, I play nice. I let him sleep while I read my book. Come time for the beverage service, the flight attendant asks him to put his seat forward. He ignores her and I sip my diet coke sitting in the fetal position without use of the tray table.

An hour and 44 minutes in, and dinner service begins. This time, the flight attendant takes to the intercom, asking people to bring their seats to the upright position so passengers may enjoy their meals. A slew of seats become upright, except for 36A.

As I’m handed my meal, I ask Mr. Wanker to move his seatback up so I can eat. That went over like a lead brick thrown from a Space Shuttle. I received a smile and a “sorry.”

I now had two options: fully recline my own seat and make the person behind me miserable as well, or I could turn the tables. I started out light by placing my foot on his seat support and tapping my foot to the beat of the music I was listening to. I started with some Pat Metheny and quickly escalated to Rush.

After a couple of minutes, he turned around, and in a gruff voice said, “Will you stop that!” I replied, “Sorry,” grabbed my MP3 player and selected AC/DC's “Back in Black.”

The guy sitting beside me thought it was funny as hell.

Mr. Rude finally rang the call button, and he pleaded his case to the flight attendant, to which she replied, “Well sir, perhaps if you moved your seat a little more in the upright position, the gentleman behind you will stop.

I flashed her a wink.

Did it work? Heck no. he kept trying to make his seat go further back. Something tells me he doesn’t like speed metal either.

Thus I pose the following question: what the hell happened to air travel? I remember when you dressed up in a suit, were fed meals better than you cooked at home and those flying with you were pleasant. Today, riding on a Greyhound bus is better (albeit slower). And for some reason, people have become down right rude, with common courtesy completely thrown out the window. Of course, it doesn’t help that the airlines have you packed in like cattle headed to the slaughter house.

At least my camera and gear had a better trip than I. The overhead bin was remarkably lean on bags. Perhaps I should pack myself in the overhead compartment for the trip home?

Protect Your Legacy

2011-01-05T10:00:00.001-10:00

“THIEF!! THIEF!! STOP HIM! HE ROBBED ME,” yelled the shop keeper as he chased a homeless youth through Banyan Tree Park, the latter in full sprint and a pair of sunglasses clutched in his hand. I can only guess at the skirmish that ensued, but the shop keep soon strolled back through the park, his stolen article retrieved.

At some point in time, we’ve all had something taken from us – someone stole our lunch, our car or for some, even their identity. And what about photographs? It happens more often than you think.

For instance, this last weekend, after the sunglasses incident, I had a couple stop at my booth and admire my images. The woman quickly pointed to my easel of giclees and exclaim how happy she was with the two 16X20 sunset shots they owned, pointing to two images in my display. The gentleman then bragged about the great deal he got, trading two paintings for my two pieces at a store front on Maui that I hadn’t been involved with in over a year. Needless to say, I was in shock to learn of the “sale” of my images, and someone profiting from the transaction with the artist not receiving compensation.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had to go after an unprincipled entity or person for use of images without payment or flat-out stealing art work. Other photographer friends of mine have had similar issues with unscrupulous galleries, print houses, magazines and stores, and while you might think all is lost, it isn’t.

The first thing to remember is that as the photographer, the instant you press the shutter button, you instantly “own” the copyright to the image. It belongs to you and nobody else. In today’s digital age, cameras not only take an image, but collect a whole bunch of data, such as exposure information, the date and time the picture was taken and the camera used, including the serial number of the camera. I can’t begin to tall you how many cases for copyright infringement are won by the admission of camera data.

Secondly, registering your images with the copyright office in Washington DC (www.copyright.gov) will further protect your shots. By registering your images, you basically “fast track” the claims process if you’ve been infringed upon. By presenting the Court with a copy of the registration, it makes it almost impossible for anyone to refute your ownership to the image. After all, you took the time to copyright the images. The copyright office makes this a pretty painless process, and allows you to register images in bulk as collections, so you don’t have to register each image individually, which would be an enormous pain in the back side. The best part is the cost, a mere $35.00.

Next, you’ll want good legal representation. While this can be expensive, if you belong to photographic organizations such as Professional Photographers of America (PPA), North American Nature Photographers Association (NANPA) or American Society of Media Photographers (ASMP), legal representation is part of the benefits package. A single call to the one of the organization will connect you to a staff attorney who is versed in law as it pertains to photographers, especially copyright. The best thing is that there are no legal fees for the photographer to bear.

The last thing to remember is that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Before you place your images into a gallery, give them to a store to sell or hand your files over to a print house, get references and call them. Ask fellow photographers for recommendations and take the time to do the legwork necessary to determine the reputation of the purveyor. Just remember to follow your gut: if it doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t.

As for the illegal trade of my images, well, I’m not worried. I’ve made contact with counsel in three organizations I belong to, and the legal wheels are turning. So far, my record is 2 and 0, and my legal team says we’ll have no problem adding another hash mark to the win category.

The Shot Sheet of Life

2011-01-02T19:14:00.000-10:00

Back in my early days as a newspaper photographer, I always carried a shot sheet. As a photographer’s proverbial “to do” list, it was a constant reminder of the basic shots my editor wanted to see in the automotive section: three-quarter front, three-quarter rear, a badge shot, three-quarter interior shot, and an engine shot.

Boooooring!

My editor at the time wasn’t a car aficionado, but rather saw them as effective transportation from point A to point B. He liked the basic shot sheet, and he could drop text and photos into a template without much worry. I, on the other hand, wanted to let the images tell the story. And so the shot sheet grew, with images segregated into “must have” and “want” sides of my notebook.

Soon, badge shots went from plain-jane manufacturer monikers to artful logos bathed in rain droplets; Sports cars were placed in the middle of abandoned roads, their dull and washed-out yellow dividing lines fading into oblivion behind the car; and the mandatory three-quarter front or rear shot started getting Dutch Tilt variations (by tilting the camera off to the side so that the shot is composed with the horizon at an angle to the bottom of the frame.)

As my shooting style developed, so did my shot sheet. Soon items like “cover” and “two-page spread” were the norm alongside “hard cornering, low angle” and “vehicle sliding sideways.”

Similarly, my Hawaiian images began to evolve as well. I grew tired of the “shot by the side of the road” look, and I began to trudge deeper off trail, foregoing overlooks for cliff sides and, well… going places many photographers would think twice about. My shot sheets started to worry my bride a bit with entries like, “Waianapanapa beach from east cliff,” “Wall of Tears – helicopter,” and “Polo Beach – fisheye at sand level.” The worry didn’t come from physical danger, but would the equipment survive.

Then one night a few months back, I was preparing a shot sheet for a short trip to Hana. The television was on in the background, the movie playing was The Bucket List. In short order, the shot sheet was sitting in my lay and I was engrossed in the movie, which started me thinking, “If a bucket list is what you want to do before you die, shouldn’t you really have a shot sheet of what you want to do while you’re alive?

So the Shot Sheet of Life started that night. Entry #1: “Develop closer relationships with family and friends.” Number 2: “Photograph more than nature…” By the time I got to number 28 and 29, “Drive a 1971 Lamborghini Miura SV” and “Try water ski racing again,” I was off the deep end.

Right now, I’m having fun with entry #1, calling old friends, emailing family and catching up on lost time. The list of people is long, and it won’t be completed overnight. It’s a work in progress. As is entry #2 – I’m taking more people pictures, and they aren’t half bad. It’s a little awkward for me, as I don’t like my picture being taken – something about having a lens shoved in my face. But with my point and shoot camera, the flood gates open! People, pets, buildings, you name it; I’m shoot it because I can, and it’s opened a new flood gate of creativity.

Of course, there are a couple of items on The List that are tough for me to do, like #14: “Watch the sunset without a camera,” or #6: “Turn the cell phone off on date night.” However, I’m looking forward to working on #18: “Capture the most beautiful sunset ever!” I may have to work on that one a lot.

Photography and Cars: Universal Bonding Agents

2010-11-29T19:24:00.003-10:00

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

2010-11-29T19:08:00.003-10:00

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

2010-08-04T10:26:00.002-10:00

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

2010-07-28T11:07:00.002-10:00

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

2010-07-26T12:41:00.001-10:00

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

2010-06-09T14:57:00.004-10:00

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

2010-06-04T14:02:00.004-10:00

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

2010-05-13T14:00:00.002-10:00

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

2010-05-12T12:17:00.002-10:00

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

2010-04-23T14:21:00.002-10:00

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

2010-04-22T14:30:00.002-10:00

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!

2010-04-09T12:28:00.002-10:00

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

2010-03-16T15:42:00.002-10:00

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!

2010-02-24T20:06:00.002-10:00

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!

Printing B - I - G

2009-12-31T13:45:00.003-10:00

Just installed a 60-inch wide Canon iPF9100 Printer today. It took four of us to lift/heave this bad boy into the print studio. I still get chills watching large-format printers start up for the first time - like an awakening giant. Then when the first 60-inch wide print rolls out... Wow! Who says bigger isn't better?

E Komo Mai

2009-12-29T12:46:00.002-10:00

Aloha, and welcome to our blog, Ah Shootz! Starting later this week, we'll explore the good, the bad and the ugly when it comes to shooting in Paradise. We'll cover some of the greatest places to shoot, talk about the equipment we use and give you tips and tricks to take your photography to the Next Level. So come along with us, it's gonna be a great ride!