Photography relies on science as much as art, and to be successful, photographers have to know a lot of things. Some of the requisite knowledge falls into the category of common sense and some is acquired through the indispensable combination of training and practice. And every once in awhile we stumble upon a nugget that can only be described as dumb luck. It was dumb luck that led me a few years ago to a website I want to share with you.
I read George Schaub’s review of the Olympus 25mm f2.8 pancake lens on Shutterbug.com and, faster than you could say “Zuiko,” I bought one. This was only the second time in my life that I purchased something because I read a positive review about it. The only other time was many years ago when I bought a Bolens Mulching Lawnmower. Sadly, that adventure ended abruptly in tragedy when the mower impaled itself on a hidden iron survey stake one week later.
The Consumer Electronics Show (affectionately known as “CES”) is an annual gala event where manufacturers show off the best gadgets in the world. Held in Las Vegas right on the heels of the New Year’s holidays, more than 100,000 people are said to have attended CES in 2009. I was one of them.
A couple years ago I bought a used Canon EOS D30 for an article I was doing for Shutterbug. To be sure it’s an EOS D30, not a more modern EOS 30D, and it’s “only” 3.1-megapixel—it produces images that are a modest 2160 x 1440 to be exact. I paid around $300 for it secondhand. It cost $3000 when it was new back in 2000.
My friend Toko is the best golfer I’ve ever known. He ordered new graphite shafts from a mail order company in Texas and reshafted his clubs by himself. When you hear these two facts you may think that he was using state-of-the art, custom-made equipment.
We often jokingly say that something will happen “as sure as the sun’s gonna rise tomorrow.” It’s comforting for humans to turn to nature to find consistency and reassurance that things are normal. Every year, either on December 21 or December 22, the part of the world I live in experiences Winter Solstice. It’s a time for celebration, as witnessed by many cultures from the ancient Romans (Saturnalia) to the Hopi Indians (Soyalangwul).
The problem with most photo backpacks is that they’re perfect for carrying cameras, lenses and a ton of small accessories, but perfectly awful when it’s time to pack anything larger. Yes, I know—some models will accommodate a notebook PC. But many of those require the mouse and AC adapter to share space with camera accessories.
A short time ago I was shooting with a Tamron 18-270mm zoom lens on a Canon EOS 40D and discovered something very surprising. When I reviewed the images of some leaves that were backlit against a bright sky I didn’t see any DPF. You know what DPF is, of course: Dreaded Purple Fringe. It usually inhabits the contrasty edges that separate highlight and shadow areas in some digital images. I’d upload an example, but I know you have plenty of your own.
On Thanksgiving morning I left home before eight and drove my Jeep 20 miles to photograph a farm I’ve been shooting for the past 15 years. Sometimes it’s hard to keep a relationship fresh and exciting for such a long period of time, but like an exciting woman, this subject reveals something new to me every time we meet.
To the best of my knowledge, there is only one word in the English language that lacks a vowel: rhythm. Rhythm is something I sure don’t have, but cameras do.
It’s really scary when I think of it this way, but my career in the photo industry spans parts of four decades. I started as a junior salesman at Minolta Corporation in 1975 and left as the vice president of marketing for the camera division 29 years later. Minolta is gone and the Konica interlopers are out of the camera business. Many of my friends in Japan are now designing and marketing cameras for Sony, having moved there when Minolta sold off all of their camera patents and other intellectual property. Other former colleagues here in the US are now selling Panasonic, Fujifilm and Samsung products. I am doing what I have done long if not well: writing.