Exploring the wonders of creation through a 50mm lens...and other lenses too.

This is one of those shots that’s so simple, so basic, and so easy to capture that it almost feels like cheating. This is not complicated in the least, and no special gear or equipment is required other than a camera, some vegetation, and the setting sun. But when done right, a picture like this can just knock it out of the park and do exactly what you might hope it would do: create some kind of feeling, emotion, or mood for the person who views it.

The basic idea here is super easy: find some kind of plant with a bit of color to it (I like wide blades midsummer of grass or tree leaves in the fall as they are changing colors) and position yourself such that the sun is behind it. Then get out your camera, open up the lens aperture, and start taking pictures. that all there is to it. The bright colors and brilliant light can end up making these types of photos some of my favorites that I have taken over the years. In fact, when my brother Phil and I were walking around on the shores of Milford Lake while some of the younger kids were fishing on the nearby dock, I had this picture in my mind that I had taken seven years prior on the Oklahoma State University campus. (I’m not kidding, I really was thinking of that shot. I really like it, and it was my phone background for a good long while.) When I saw a few blades of green grass that had turned to orange and red, along with the sun lowering on the horizon, I thought it would be a great opportunity to take another similar shot.

I used my D750 and 105mm f/2.8 macro lens but anyone could get this composition with a basic DSLR and 18-55mm kit lens. All I did was lower my point of view to take advantage of the backlighting, focus on the orange leaf on the left, open up my aperture to a decent-but-not-too-wide f/4.8, and fire off a couple of shots. I also played around with my position relative to the leaf, moving in and out just to try some different compositions while also experimenting with different aperture sizes but in the end this simple image just clicked in a way that none of the others really did. I like it a lot, and it’s now my iPad background :) I think this experience, especially in light of all the super close-up insect shots I have been taking lately, is a good reminder that photography doesn’t have to be fancy to be good. Sometimes just something basic and simple is all you need.

Almost every year when my family gets together at Milford Lake, Kansas, I like to go out at least one evening and take a picture of the sunset. Views like this aren’t something I see in my normal daily life in Oklahoma, so it’s fun to be able to try different kids of shots compared to my normal repertoire of bugs, insects, and scenes from Theta Pond on the OSU campus. While most of my family was up at the campfire I stole away for a few minutes to run down to the beach, set up my camera, and see if I could get something maybe a tad different from the similar compositions I had created in previous years. Not that there’s anything wrong with repeating a photo year after year, and I have certainly done just that more than a few times in the past decade or so, but it’s also fun to try something new. Novel, perhaps, or at least novel to me if not to other nature and landscape photographers.

What I eventually came up with was the idea of using my D750, 50mm lens, and 10-stop ND filter to smooth out the water (of course) but also to create a sense of wistful peacefulness in the foreground. Instead of focusing on the treeline with the setting sun in the background, I instead found a chunk of rock sticking up from the water right near the shore and got that nice and sharp even though it meant the background would be a bit blurry. (One of the consequences of a relatively inexpensive lens like the Nikon 50mm f/1.8G is that you sacrifice a small aperture; f/16 is as low as this lens will go, which means super deep focus is kind of out of the question. C’est la vie.) I set my ISO to 100, my shutter speed to 30 seconds, and got this image which is quite unlike most of the other pictures I can recall taking. It looks like the rock is shrouded in a fog or mist, but it’s really just small waves lapping against it as a hushed breeze barely breathed across the surface of the waters.

This was a fun picture to take and one that I hope to revisit in the future, possibly with the light behind me instead of in front of me, but that goes to show that if nothing else this at least gives me some new ideas to try which is always a good thing when it comes to photography :)

Last week I wrote (and spoke) about how the shot of a dragonfly, when compared to a similar picture from seven years prior, was evidence of just how much I have learned in the time between the two. This image, while similar to one that I took a few months ago, isn’t so much an example of what I have learned but how earlier shots can inform later shots. This hummingbird moth is closing in on a white ball of…something? (I’m still not sure what in the world these flower-ish things are, but they must taste good to bees, moths, and other insects.) When I saw the animal flitting from one bulbous protrusion to the next on the shores of Milford Lake, Kansas, I immediately thought of this picture of a similar situation that I took in my very own back yard in April. I knew I didn’t want to re-create the original backyard shot as much as I wanted to use what I learned from it to create something new. I’m not entirely sure it worked, and in the end I think I prefer the original to its more recent counterpart, but the entire process was an exercise in education and personal growth which is what really matters in the end.

What I really wanted to capture in the image you see above is a sense of energy, especially as it relates to light. The original photo from my back yard is evenly lit, which is to say that the entire shot is shrouded in shade. This is great for creating a nice sense of uniformity, but there are other, more creative, ways to use light to elevate an image. That’s what I wanted to do here. The moth you see in this shot was one of several hovering around this patch of lakeside greenery, but I specifically chose to put myself in a position such that I would be more likely to get a picture of one when the sun was behind it. See the transluscent glow on the moth’s wings, the bright colors of its curling proboscis, and the vibrant energy of the white bulb? That’s all due to backlighting, and you won’t find any of this in my photo of a hummingbird moth from April. So in that sense, I consider this image pretty great :)

However, what I didn’t quite nail here was the position of the moth and, as such, the focal point of the composition isn’t quite what I want it to be. The moth is facing slightly away from my camera and, as a result, you can’t see its face or eyes clearly. It’s not a dealbreaker per se, but I do wish I could have gotten this same overall composition but with a better view of the animal’s face. I don’t say this to be self-critical, but just to examine the image and see what I like and don’t like, and then see what I can learn from it.

One of my favorite things to do as a photographer is look back on earlier images and compare them to similar shots that I have taken years down the line. While sometimes embarrassing, particularly when I think about the portraits I used to take in days gone by, it’s also refreshingly illustrative, and even a bit instructive, and if nothing else it’s just fun to see how far I’ve come. (I recommend this to other photographers too: try going through your earlier shots and see what you have learned and how you have improved over the years. It’s really cool.) Such is absolutely the case here.

Back in 2016, not too long after I got a set of close-up filters for my 50mm lens, I took this shot of a dragonfly near the shore of Milford Lake, Kansas:

At the time I was kind of blown away, having never taken a picture quite like this before. I was astonished that an amateur photographer like myself could get an image of a dragonfly with such stunning clarity. And without a true macro lens, no less. I thought I had peaked, but years later I can clearly see just how wrong I was and how much room for growth still remained.

This week’s featured image of a blue dragonfly, which was taken about 200 yards away from where I shot its counter part in 2016, is improved in every possible way. The dragonfly is sharper, the lighting is better, the colors (and thus, the entire composition as a whole) are vastly improved, and overall it has a sense of life and vibrancy that was almost entirely absent in the earlier picture. I don’t say this to downplay the first shot, but to show how fascinating it is to see how much I have learned over the years. It’s something I don’t see too much on a daily basis, but when comparing compositions it becomes clear. And I think what excites me the most is thinking about, seven years from now, just how much I will have hopefully improved over what I can do now.

The journey really is the reward :)

One of my white whales, as it were, in macro photography is a picture of a bee hovering just next to a flower or other such source of nectar. It’s a shot that I have been chasing for years but never quite achieved, though I have come close on a couple of occasions. This shot, clearly, is not me reaching my goal but it isn’t bad and a good example of a kind of picture that I do enjoy being able to create while also serving as a reminder that if I just keep at it I’m sure I will get it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but hopefully soon. And in the meantime, there’s still so much to learn and so many new things to try. It’s a magical world, after all :)

Anyway, at the risk of waxing introspectively poetic, let’s talk about this image of a bee on…well, I’m not sure what on earth this thing is. Some kind of flower? I don’ have a clue. It looks almost otherworldly, but was really just growing in a thick patch of greenery right next to the beach near our cabins on Milford Lake, Kansas. One thing I have learned about these big bumblebees is that they aren’t super fast, especially compared to some of their smaller, more nimble, counterparts and when they land on a food source they like to stick around for a few seconds. Just long enough, at least some of the time, to fire off a few snaps of the shutter.

Autofocus and exposure settings are key, obviously, but one other component of this shot that I was really trying to keep in mind was lighting. This image would have been find if lit from the front, but composing it in such a way (i.e. moving myself and my camera) that the sun was above and to the rear of the bee and the, um, flower? elevated the composition to a new level. It looks like the subjects are glowing, and the bee, in the midst of a nectar snack, has a sense of kinetic energy and life that would be missing if lit differently. It was a good reminder that even though I haven’t yet gotten my shot of a bee next to a flower, there’s still lots and lots of great photographs out there just waiting to be taken.

Every year since 2012 my family has spent a few days each summer in cabins at the shore of Milford Lake, Kansas, just enjoying each other’s company. We talk, play games, go swimming, ride the pontoon, sit by the campfire, and stay up way, way too late knowing full well we really should be getting to bed. But we don’t, and it’s great :) And every year I bring my full suite of cameras to take some photos that I can’t get any other time–nothing groundbreaking, mind you, but pictures that exist just outside the boundaries of my normal daily life. This bug (beetle?) you see here is one such image, and even though nothing about it screams lake vacation it’s a shot that I don’t really have the opportunity to take at home or walking around the Oklahoma State University campus. Not that there aren’t plenty of bugs and insects around, but at the lake everything just seems so much more vibrant and alive! Or, perhaps, maybe I am just a bit more attuned to things like this when there’s wind in the trees, the smell of lake water in the air, and the sound of my kids playing with their cousins down on the shore.

My brother Phil had his Tokina 100mm f/2.8 macro lens firmly attached to his Nikon D7200 for most of our time at the lake this year, and the two of us had a great time talking about, and taking, shots of the small world around us. There was a patch of greenery between our cabin and the beach, and one afternoon I just kind of stood there poking around with my D750 and 105mm f/2.8 macro lens, marveling at the sheer quantity of life right in front of me and getting a few pictures along the way.

It wasn’t long until I saw this tiny creature crawling along a leaf, and even though I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of picture I would be able to take I figured I would at least give it a shot. It wasn’t exactly running but when working at such close distances even the smallest movement can mean big changes. I set my aperture to f/16, Auto-ISO to a minimum shutter speed of 1/500, and followed the bug as it made its way across the greenery. Soon it paused and peered over the edge, possibly contemplating the relative height from which it was now gazing, and it was at that instant that I snagged the shot you see here. I had my camera set to high-speed continuous shooting so this was just one out of a short series of shots but even so, it was the only one that just worked. The only things in focus are exactly what should be in focus, and the rest of the picture provides much-needed context to understand what is going on. I also like the backlighting on the creature, particularly its antennae, which was a direct result of the time of day: you are more likely to get photos like this in the morning or, in my case, evening.

While this wasn’t the first macro picture I took on our trip it was one of my early favorites, and I’m excited to share more in the coming weeks.

The more I use my macro lens, the more I learn about what to do as well as what not to do in order to get a good close-up shot. I also seem to gain a greater respect for true macro shooters with almost every picture I take, as is the case in point here. For a while now I have thought about trying to get a picture of a single key on my keyboard, kind of like what you might see on a stock photo site. How hard could it be, I thought to myself every time I came across a PowerPoint presentation with some kind of call to action enhanced with a keyboard closeup.

Turns out that, while not extremely difficult, it does involve a bit more challenge than I was prepared for.

First of all, I wanted to use (what else?) my Nanlite Pavotubes to light the keyboard in a way that was a bit more interesting than just plain white-and-gray. I also didn’t really want to get this shot in the laundry room since I was kind of tired of moving things around and attempting to set up my tripod and lights in a way that would work without stepping on plastic baskets or an errant dish rag. That meant I had to create this image at night after my kids were in bed so I could turn out most of the lights in the house and just get the glow from my Pavotubes. I waited until an evening when my wife was out with a friend so I could create the setup I needed for this photo without causing her to wander the house with a flashlight, busted out my Nikon D750 and 105mm macro lens, opened up my bag-o-lights, and got to work.

The actual setup here was pretty simple: one light on the right set to a blue-ish color, and another one on the left set to orange. (I don’t remember the exact HSL values, but blue and orange are close enough.) I put my camera on a tripod, angled it down, adjusted the aperture to get the word “home” in focus but not much else, and fired off a couple shots. I also did the same with the “return” key just for fun but ended up liking this series better.

What I realized when I imported these into Lightroom was something I had never considered while setting up the shot: my keyboard is filthy! I even brushed it off a bit before taking this picture but oh my goodness, when viewed up close I could see dirt, dust, hair, and other nastiness all over the place. I had no idea. I immediately set about removing some bits with the heal tool in Lightroom but soon realized it was a fool’s errand. I would need to spend an hour cleaning and tweaking and refining, or I could just use the image as-is and treat it as a learning experience.

You can probably guess which option I went with :)

I do like the overall idea here, and it would be a fun shot to re-create someday, but for now I think I’m just going to chalk this up as one of those images that teaches me a lot more than I thought it would. And maybe also try to clean my keyboard a bit more often too…

This is one of those shots that I had in mind, or at least had a clear vision in my mind of what I wanted to do, and while the end result is pretty good I’m not entirely certain I accomplished what I was going for. It’s not bad, not by a long shot, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more I could have done here. No worries though! It just means I get to experiment more and continue to learn about photography and lighting :)

So the idea for this shot came to me when I saw the little yellow Shy Guy that my son brought home from school a while ago. The expression on his face, and the position of his arms (the figuring, that is. Not my son) made me think that he was about to embark on some grand adventure, or perhaps more like Bilbo Baggins beholding Smaug atop the pile of treasure beneath Erebor. I knew I wanted to have more in the shot than just this little yellow dude…but what? What could I add that would create the mood I was going for? The answer, once again, came from my kids.

Even though our two boys have long since stopped playing with the large blocks you see in the behind-the-scenes picture above, we still have hundreds of them stashed away for when their younger relatives come to visit. I thought they could be used to create an interesting context for this little yellow dude’s journey, and I also wanted to make specific use of the colors you see here as well. Since the subject was entirely white and yellow, I eliminated all similar colors from the blocks I used to create the composition. The result was a palette of red and blue, with a few green accents, which served to showcase the Shy Guy and draw your attention straight to his face and eyes.

The final piece of this photographic puzzle was the light: where to put it? What color to use? How bright should it be? How many lights to use? The list went on. In the end I opted for a super simple solution: one single light, placed vertically on the dresser just like you can see above. I tried using two lights with one in my left hand held above, but ended up preferring the single-light pics because of the sheer sense of mystery and foreboding it lent to the entire scene. Something imposing is just off to the right but, much like Marcellus Wallace’s briefcase, we don’t actually know what it is. The little yellow dude sure does though, and is choosing to face it with a mix of fear and courage.

It’s all just a couple pieces of plastic and one light, but the result is pretty cool. And a concept I’d like to revisit as well, to see if I can get a final result that’s even closer to what I’m imagining in my mind.

This was an interesting experiment in trying to make what I saw in my mind match what my camera was able to capture. I don’t think I quite pulled it off, but it was a fun exercise in light, color, and crystals :) What you see here is a selenite crystal, one of many hundreds that my family and I dug out of the ground at Oklahoma’s Salt Plains State Park one warm May afternoon. My wife and I had been talking about visiting this natural landmark for years but it was always one of those items sitting near the top of our to-do list, never quite reaching high enough to actually make happen. That all changed when some friends of ours asked if we would want to join them on a trip out there, which was all the motivation we needed. We soon packed up two vehicles with shovels, buckets, water, and lots of clothes that could get muddy without worrying, and made the two-hour trek for a day of digging in the sand.

If that doesn’t sound quite like your particular cup of tea, I’m not sure it was ours either—until we arrived, and quickly found the ground practically teeming with crystals just like what you see here. What made the experience even more interesting was that this is the only location in the world where these particular selenite formations, complete with rust-colored hourglass shapes, are located. They aren’t worth anything (and you’re not supposed to even sell them) but that’s not really the point. It’s quite something to dig into the ground with a shovel or, in our case after some heavy rains, just your bare hands and pull out anywhere from one to a dozen crystals just like this one.

But how to photograph it? That’s a good question. As has been my custom lately, I fired up my Nanlite Pavotubes to see what I could come up with. I used a piece of white foam board, then set two lights on it just out of frame. On top of the lights I placed a piece of clear glass from a picture frame, and then the crystal as the final piece of this photographic sandwich, so to speak. I aimed my Nikon D750 and 105mm f/2.8 Macro lens straight down, and started shooting.

The hardest part was getting the depth of field right, and in the end I still don’t think I quite achieved what I was going for. Even at f/45 (1/8 second, ISO 100) too much of the crystal is blurry but I think that might be natural diffraction from the shape of the object rather than shallow depth of field. Even so, the orange oxidation is much less sharp than I would prefer and I wish I could have gotten a shot where everything was clear and in focus. Maybe I’ll try again, or try something different with another crystal, but as it stands this was a fun experiment and gave me some practice shooting a super unique subject.

This is one of my favorite kinds of pictures, partly because of the basics like composition, subject, lighting, and depth of field but also because it’s a single shot that tells a much larger story. And while I certainly enjoy the creativity afforded by the off-camera colored lights with which I have been experimenting lately, at the end of the day images that tell a narrative are a lot more meaningful to me. When I look at this image I don’t see a dog running with a frisbee in his mouth. I see Dashwood, my cousin’s Fox Red Labarador who spent Easter weekend with us (along with my cousins, of course) in an Airbnb in central Iowa. I see my kids throwing the frisbee for Dash in the early morning while the grownups chat after a warm breakfast including bacon made on a barely-working electric griddle. I see two days of board games, hikes by the lake, visiting a diner and coffee shop in the nearby town, and the single greatest Easter egg hunt my kids have ever experienced–courtesy of my cousin’s husband Steve whose boundless creativity provided not just candy but a cast of imaginary characters with an entire backstory.

But enough about the story; let’s talk about the picture itself. To get it, I used the only camera I brought with me for the weekend: my trusty little Fuji X100F, the photographic powerhouse that has been at my side on every trip and vacation for the past five years. Even though that camera is, shall we say, not exactly ideal for capturing fast action you can work wonders if you know how to play to that camera’s strengths. The first thing I did was look at the light, and think about where I would need to be in order to compose the kind of shot I had in mind. I knew that I wanted to get a shot of Dash running past the camera but I didn’t want him shrouded in shadow, so I made sure to position myself such that when he returned a tossed frisbee he would be running just to my right and into the early morning sunlight.