History

Yesterday my wife and I attended the reenactment of a Revolutionary War skirmish at the Daniel Boone Homestead in Birdsboro, PA. In school, History was dry and boring, and I blame that mostly on my instructors. But when I decided to gave the past a second chance, I found a podcast that brought it to life. If you have never listened to “Hardcore History” with Dan Carlin, give it a listen. Through his tales of events long ago, heros, warriors, horrors and tyrants come alive. History can be rich in emotion and fascinating. I remember covering World War 2 in history class in high school and dreading the next lecture about the stalled advance of Russian armies, or another droning tale about the Pacific Fleet foundering after Pearl Harbor, but then I met someone. I was in his home repairing his television set, when I inquired about a picture on the wall of his study. It was an older photograph of a battleship with men lined along the deck, proud in their dress uniforms. He pointed out himself in the picture. For the next hour I was regaled with memories that ranged from the tragic to the heroic to the regretful. His stories breathed life into history that I never knew existed. I wish I could take history class all over again.

Nikon D800 Tamron 70-200mm f/2.8 @ 165mm f/8 ISO 400 1/800 sec

They Just Freak Out

Canada Geese that is. They poop all over everything; they fill the skies, they litter our parks, playgrounds, and roadways, and they can be downright ornery. They probably feel the same way about us though, except for the pooping everywhere. The habit they have that bugs me is that they won’t pose for a picture. Even in groups of a hundred they turn their back as soon as my approach is noted. Often they turn and walk away acting disgusted like I’m some annoying paparazzi. I’m just trying to make a picture of them looking regal and bold, which is tough when all you see is their backsides waddling away. Angry honks send scores of them into flight mode in an instant. I wonder if I ventured too close, was too loud, wore the wrong color clothes that made me look threatening, or even presented the odor of a predator. It remains a mystery.

For this picture I used a big long lens (300mm f/2.8) with a 2X teleconvertor, making my range 600mm. This was the first picture I took, I think it was before they noticed me. Then a fateful step that broke a twig, echoed through the air, sent the Canada Geese skyward.

Nikon D4 Sigma 300mm f/2.8 with 2X Tele @ 600mm f/9 ISO 6400 1/1250 sec

Sometimes I Have To Stop

How could I not? The clouds were picturesque over the farmland. I’m a photographer; a picture needed to be taken. Unfortunately this sentiment creeps into my thoughts quite often and I end up with many pictures that are just so so and nothing special. I don’t share them because I try not to show anything that I’m not proud of or at least trying something new. Refinement is an art form that can be painful. I have many pictures that I wish were fabulous but have some flaw in them. A photograph could be just a bit out of focus, too noisy, too dark, too bright, too...whatever and it’s something I have to part with. No matter what my vision was at the time I clicked the shutter, I failed to capture it accurately, and it is now gone forever. It breaks my heart sometimes. I also have the opposite problem. I take fifty pictures of a scene (think sunset) and I think they are all wonderful in their own way, how do I choose just one to share? Worse still, what if I took fifty pictures of something I felt was beautiful at the time, but the magic isn’t there when I look at them later? They pass by my eyes and sleep on a back up hard drive, never to see the light of day again.

My plan:

I’ll still have to stop and take pictures, but I’ll need to step back and ask why. What is it about the landscape in front of me that caught my eye? How can I convey that magic to someone who wasn’t there to see it?  Is what I saw really wonderful or just another generic moment, a snapshot?  How can I setup my camera to soak in the scene and really drink its beauty?  The future looks challenging, but I’m optimistic.

 

Nikon D800 Tamron 24-70mm f/2.8 @ 24mm f/13 ISO 100 5 image HDR

Waiting

I’m not good at it. My mind races with possibilities. Infinite facets of the future dance in my mind’s eye while I wait. It can be maddening. It’s a curse, and it’s so human. That’s what darted through my mind as I watched this dragonfly. It was perched on a leaf casually waiting. I was cautiously approaching, changing lenses, changing camera settings, plotting, planning, thinking, wondering, covering all possible changes in the next minute. Would it fly away, what would be the clearest background to photograph it against, how fast would my shutter need to be to freeze any movement from the wind, can I get to an angle where the sun is reflecting off of its wings? It’s amazing how fast questions can rise and fall in the mind. It’s astounding how loud it can become in the silence of our thoughts. Waiting isn’t easy for me, but I’m glad the dragonfly had patience.

Paitience

Nikon D800 Tokina 100mm f/2.8 macro @ 100mm f/14 ISO400 1/200 sec