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

One thing I have learned about photography is that there often is not any direct relationship between time and effort spent on capturing an image, and the quality of the end result. In other words, someone might take a great deal of time composing a shot, manipulating the light, carefully positioning the subject, dialing in precise exposure settings, and still end up with a dud. Conversely, it’s entirely possible and often likely that quick one-off mobile phone snapshots will produce incredible results suitable for printing, framing, and sharing. Of course the inverse is true as well, and more often than not one of the best pieces of advice I give to new photographers is to slow down, take your time, and really put some time and effort into learning how to use your camera and getting the photo you want.

You can probably see where this is going. At the risk of sounding overly philosophical, this image is kind of in the middle of both ends of the spectrum. It took about an hour to take this picture, and while I’m not entirely certain the end result reflects the amount of time spent, I do quite like it and I am proud of what I was able to create. My only regret is that I did not take a behind-the-scenes shot of the setup so you could see exactly what I was working with, but even so I think this photo works quite well on its own and, more importantly, I like what it represents–the context, if you will.

My wife’s father is really into LEGOs. Always has been. He has a pretty large collection of various LEGO sets, and it’s something he enjoys sharing with others too. Earlier this year he gave all of us (me, my wife, and our two kids) each a LEGO set that was tailored, so to speak, for our own personalities. He knows I enjoy photography, which made this the ideal LEGO set for me and one that I very much enjoyed assembling over the course of a few afternoons. I thought it would be fun to photograph the camera, in addition to displaying it on a shelf in our house, so while my wife was out with a friend and our kids were in bed I set out to do just that. Not just a snapshot, though: a considered, bespoke composition to display the camera in the best possible light.

Everything you see in this photograph was carefully selected and positioned by me: the pine board on which the camera is resting as well as the second pine board in the background. The angle of the camera and the location of the filmstrip. The position of my Nikon D750 camera and 105mm macro lens. The exposure (f/19, 0.7 seconds, ISO 100), and finally, the lights. All five of them to be exact. Nanlite Pavotubes set to 3500K and attached to tripods as well as resting on the wood and even one in my hand. (You can understand why I wish I had taken a behind-the-scenes shot…) The lighting is what led to the image taking so long to create: I wanted to capture the camera in a way that felt natural and realistic, not overly-stylized with multi-colored accents like I have done on other similar shots. It’s a bit ironic, then, that it took so much time and intention to get lighting that just seemed normal and natural. But the end result is worth it, in my opinion, because the toy camera and strip of film are shown exactly how I wanted–right down to the reflection of the lights on the lens and the shine on the edge of the right side of the camera.

It felt good to take this picture, like a return to the careful, considered photographs I have enjoyed taking from time to time over the years. I enjoyed it, and it made me think of other similar shots I might try taking in the coming months too. We’ll see…

Time lapse video of this image being created

When I think about how I have learned and grown as a photographer over the years, it’s usually with regard to fundamentals like aperture, focal length, shutter speed, or compositional elements like how to use light and shadow to create a compelling image. For this picture, as grand as it may appear, my learning process compared to last week’s image was actually extraordinarily mundane: I simply repositioned my camera. This is the second in a series of two similar star trails images, and a clear example of how I strive to always find ways to expand my knowledge and skills when it comes to image-creation.

The first image, which I shared last week, was kind of a shot in the dark (har!) and I didn’t really know what I was doing, where to point the GoPro, or what the end result would look like at all. I didn’t even plan on capturing the stars circumscribing Polaris–that was quite an accident, albeit a pleasant one. So when I saw the results of the three-hour capture the next morning I figured I could take another, better, image with just a couple of minor changes involving the position of my camera. During broad daylight I walked down the slope behind our cabin to find a spot where I could capture more of the night sky between the trees, and also hopefully get the north star in the picture too. It was hot, weedy, and buggy but I found a spot that, I thought, would give me what I was looking for so I noted it in my mind, found a few visual markers to help me place my tripod later that day, and went back to find my wife and kids hanging out with the rest of our extended family.

That night after the sun had set I went back to the spot with my brother Phil, who also had his camera and tripod to capture a star trails image of his own. I managed to locate the spot I found earlier in the day, set up my tripod and GoPro, adjusted the angle of the ball head so the camera was more or less pointed in the direction I wanted, and Phil and I quickly went back inside the cabin while swatting at gnats and bugs along the way.

The shot I got overnight vastly exceeded my expectations. I was shocked at what my diminutive little GoPro camera was able to capture. I figured I would get a couple of star trails, not the hundreds you see here so easily visible in the night sky. I thought I might get the trees, but not their leaves brilliantly illuminated by the moon above and behind the camera. And I had no idea that my camera would capture the brilliant dance of hundreds of fireflies flitting about late into the night, visible as giddy green streaks all throughout the lower portion of the shot.

I don’t think I will have the opportunity to take another star trail shot like this for a while (though possibly in a few weeks, depending on the location and the weather, but I’m not counting on it) so I want to enjoy and appreciate this image for what it is and what it represents to me: the idea that shots like this are not out of reach and, in fact, quite achievable with a little practice. And a GoPro doesn’t hurt either ;)

Time lapse video of this image being created

This is the first in a two-part series that I’ll be sharing today and next week, and also the first time I have ever taken (or even attempted) a star trails picture. Hence the series :) But first, as I sometimes do here on Weekly Fifty, a bit of background.

Every year my family goes on vacation at Milford Lake, Kansas, to spend a few days playing at the beach, swimming in the pool, roasting marshmallows, fishing, and staying up way too late to catch up on life. It’s always a good time and something my wife, our kids, and I look forward to every summer. I always come home with a boat-load of pictures including several that have been featured here on the blog, but this year I wanted to try something a bit different. In addition to pictures I wanted to get some videos of the kids playing, tubing, and generally just enjoying their time together but I don’t really have a camera that is equipped for that sort of thing. My DSLRs are all great for still images but awful for video, at least when the subjects are moving anyway. My iPhone I guess, but for this year’s vacation I wanted something that would get a whole new perspective. I wanted video clips of the kids (not just ours, but all the nieces and nephews too) that were up close and personal, not taken from a dozen yards from the safety of the shore or deck of the pool. Most modern smartphones are waterproof, or at least water resistant, but one wrong move and you lose the whole thing—not just pictures and videos, but emails, messages, apps, and the rest. The solution? A GoPro.

I have never owned an action camera before so, like any modern tech enthusiast, I researched the dickens out of these boxy little wonder-cameras and concluded that the newest model, the GoProHero 12 Black, would work just fine. And my goodness, did it ever work. My wife and I were able to basically just let the kids have at it without worrying at all. We let the kids take the GoPro with them everywhere and didn’t think twice about whether it might get dinged or damaged while they were able to get incredible video clips that we have never even considered capturing until now. (To be fair, we also bought a clear plastic case for the camera just for added peace of mind which also helped with overall durability.)

So what does that have to do with this week’s photo? Well, it turns out the GoPro has a built-in Star Trails mode. All you have to do is put it on a tripod, tell it when to start recording, and come back in the morning. That’s it. As long as you have a good view of the sky you’re going to get something cool, and this week’s image is the result of my first such experiment. It’s a three-hour time lapse that the camera stitched together from a series of 30-second exposures, and it shows a bit of context like the lake, some trees, and even the roof of the cabin in the corner. It’s not perfect, not by a long shot, but it was certainly a good starting point and gave me a lot to think about for the next night’s attempt. And the fact that I was able to get this not on a big expensive DSLR or Mirrorless but on a tiny action camera that fits in my pocket just kind of blew my mind. I do think you could probably do something similar on a mobile phone with the right camera software, so I’m not trying to say that this picture is incredibly unique or special, but it was a first for me and gave me a lot of ideas for what else I might be able to capture…

One theme I have kept consistent over the years here on Weekly Fifty is that of continuous improvement. Kaizen, if you will, at least to some extent. I always (and I use that word intentionally) try to examine my photography, find things to learn from it, and then explore ways to improve. In other words, the images I share here on the blog aren’t necessarily the best of the best but images that show evidence of growth, change, and development as a photographer. Some are great, while others are…well, let’s just say they’re evidence.

That’s this week’s image, anyway. It comes right on the heels of last week’s picture of a similar hallway in Fort Barrancas, though with a dollop of hubris on my part. As my wife and I went through the hallways of this brick and concrete structure on the southern side of Pensacola, I thought this scene would make an ideal black and white image because, just like the picture I took about twenty minutes prior, it was all light and shadow. A study in contrast, or so I thought, which was tailor-made for my Fuji X100F and its built-in Acros monochrome film simulation mode. In capturing this image I would take everything I had learned about black and white photography (which wasn’t all that much) and compose my masterpiece (which it most certainly is not) with the hall before me.

Yeah, not so much. The thing is, I’m slowly learning that to have good black and white photography you need light and shadow not just present in the frame, but playing off each other in order to create depth, presence, and a sense of time and place. This image does none of that. While it shares a few superficial similarities to last week’s shot, all the light parts of the frame are in the top third while the dark part, the floor, does nothing to draw your eye whatsoever. There’s no textures on the wall, no sense of scale, and not much to draw your eye, really. In the moment I thought this would be a great example of the power of black and white, but in viewing it afterward I see it as something else entirely: a run on the ladder, another step towards the goal of learning more about how to be a photographer. It’s a ladder I have been climbing for well over a decade, and one that I hope to never stop ascending.

Earlier this year I posted an image here on Weekly Fifty that was a bit of a foray into black-and-white photography, which is something I almost never do but am casually interested in exploring a bit more. Not in a serious manner, but being open making monochrome photographs when opportunities present themselves. That’s precisely the situation that led to this week’s image, which came about when my wife and I were touring Fort Barrancas with our kids on our road trip to Florida. We were walking through the brick halls, barracks, and fortifications of the old fort on a warm morning when not a lot of other tourists were around; upon rounding a corner we came upon a long window-lined hallway lined with the morning sunlight streaming through onto the centuries-old bricks. The contrast between light and dark, combined with the rich, detailed textures of the bricks, formed a scene that was ideal for a black-and-white picture. I put the X100F in Acros film simulation mode and got to work.

My wife went ahead with the kids while I stayed back for a few minutes to see if I could capture the scene with the little time and gear I had at my disposal. I didn’t have a tripod with me, which presented me with a few challenges that, looking back, I wish I didn’t have to deal with. Lesson learned: just bring the tripod next time. The X100F doesn’t have built-in image stabilization so I either had to set my camera down on a hard surface or use a shutter fast enough to minimize motion blur while shooting handheld. I tried first the former but, the only such surface being the concrete floor, was unsatisfied with the result. As such I had to resort to a technique I don’t generally prefer, but does tend to work more often than I care to admit: take a boat-load of pictures and hope one of them turns out.

Ideally, a small aperture would be best for an image like this in order to get a crisp, clean, detailed shot with as much fine detail as possible. Given the relatively dim light with which I was working, an aperture of f/8 or f/11 would have resulted in a shutter speed of…well, pretty slow. Much too slow to shoot handheld. I ended up settling on an exposure of f/4, ISO 6400, and 1/30 second shutter speed which, of course, is still too slow to get a great shot when shooting handheld at the 35mm equivalent focal length of a Fuji X100F. That’s when you (well, me) put the camera in continuous high-speed shooting, jam the shutter down, and hope for the best.

This is the result, and it’s not too bad if I do say so myself. I really like the interplay between light and shadow, the black vertical shadow on the right, the arches receding into the distance, and even the white light at the end–at the top of the stairs, no less. A smaller aperture would have been nice, but sometimes you have to just take what you can get and in this case I’m pretty pleased with what I got.

The final night of our vacation at the beach in Florida found all of us standing on the porch, our arms resting on the railing, waiting for the moon to rise over the watery horizon in the distance. Rather than sending the kids to bed on time, the adults let everyone stay up a bit longer, and then just a bit more, in order to see the full moon rise from the waters like Ares blazing his chariot across the daytime sky, though in place of a celestial furnace we beheld the moon, a dull hunk of rock lit to a bright flame by the same searing sun. The sky was dark, the waters warm, and the wind whispered in our ears when off in the distance the faintest sliver of light peeked out from the sea. The deep red light shone dimly at first, then grew to a bright brilliance on the nearly cloudless night as my wife and I, along with our kids, our friends, and their kids, watched the scene unfold before our eyes.

All this may sound just a tad melodramatic, but that really is how it felt to be there at the seashore watching the full moon rise on the last night of our vacation. It was not something I could recall having viewed at any other time in my life, and I don’t expect to have the opportunity to experience something like this for quite some time again. As we watched the moon climb higher in the sky our friends’ son asked if I might try to capture the moment with my camera. I hesitated, knowing that no photograph could hop to contain the sheer scale and wonder of what we were witnessing, but I told him I would at least be willing to try. I got my Fuji 100F and travel tripod, found a vantage point on the deck, set everything up, and took a picture: F/9, ISO 800, 26 seconds. Then another, and then a third. The child was grateful that I was willing to oblige; away went my camera, and we all returned to watch the moon rise just a bit more. And then just a bit more…

When I loaded the RAW file in Lightroom several days later, what I saw didn’t exactly knock my socks off.

While this was a bit more reflective of the reality of the scene, it in no way captured the essence of the experience. It didn’t even connect the image to a memory, since it hardly shows anything at all. I spent a while tweaking the RAW file–developing the film, one might say, in order to produce an image that would transport me, my wife, our friends, or any of our kids back to that moment in time on our last night at the beach. I even went to far at to use Lightroom’s AI Denoise feature to clean things up even more than I normally would, and the result is what you see at the top of this week’s post. It wasn’t a shot I planned or even wanted to take, but it ended up being one of my favorites from the whole trip.

Here’s to life, to family, to friends, and to taking chances :)

This is another first for me, kind of a follow-up of sorts to last week’s shot of a sunset at this very same location. Until this point in my life I had never taken a long-exposure picture of the moon rising over the ocean, and when this opportunity presented itself I was more than a little excited to take my little workhorse, the trusty ol’ Fuji X100F, out to the water’s edge and see what kinds of images I could capture. I had a few ideas in mind but, as a midwesterner who has only ever been to the ocean a few times in my life, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing or how to go about creating a good composition. I knew I wanted a long-exposure shot to make the wavy surface smooth, and I also wanted to capture the rising celestial body in the distance, but beyond that I wasn’t quite sure what exactly I was going for.

The thing I realized over the course of our time at the beach, which probably seems obvious to more seasoned photographers who take these kinds of images, is that it really helps to orient the viewer if there is something familiar for them to latch on to. Not necessarily a focal point per se, but more of a reference point so people looking at the image have a sense of time, place, scale, or other such defining characteristic. As I took pictures while the moon rose in the distance it occurred to me that if I had few seashells in the foreground I could not only use them to create that sense of context but balance out the color as well. I found a couple shells on the sand (it wasn’t hard, which was one of those things that kind of surprised me but is probably no big deal to people who spend any amount of time on the coast) and moved them in front of my camera, which was positioned atop my nearly completely-collapsed travel tripod. To get this image I focused on the large orange shell, set the aperture to f/13, the ISO to 200, and the shutter to 20 seconds. The waves crashed, the wind whispered, the shells stayed in place, and when it was done I had one of the most incredible images I have ever taken.

Sure there are things I could have done differently, like use a wide-angle lens to get even more of the seashore in the shot, or somehow placed my camera lower on the ground, but I can confidently say that never in my life had I taken a picture quite like this and even now it still kind of surprises me. The icing on the cake, the pièce de résistance if you will, is the reflection of the moon shimmering on the surface of the waters. It adds a sense of calm to the composition, and I consider myself immensely fortunate to have been able to be at this place, in this time, to create this composition.

Over the past decade or so that I have been taking photography more seriously as an artistic and, dare I say, intellectual pursuit, I have tried my hand at lots of different types of images: portrait, close-up, street, black and white, wildlife, landscape, and probably a lot more. One thing I haven’t attempted, because I honestly just have not had the opportunity, is an oceanside sunset. Those scenarios don’t come along too often when you live in Oklahoma, and most images at the edge of the water are taken by the side of a lake or pond and can’t come close to capturing the grandeur of being at the edge of an entire sea.

Until now 😊

This summer my family and I were able to take a trip that we had been talking about for years–a genuine beach vacation at the ocean. I brought only my Fuji X100F with me, leaving all my DSLRs and other gear, including my oft-used 105mm macro lens, at home and instead went with a much more minimalist approach. The only accessory in my bag was my trusty Peak Design Travel Tripod, which I can hardly recommend strongly enough for anyone who travels. I wanted to have with me everything I needed to take pictures of the trip, but not so much stuff that I was constantly thinking about which camera/lens combination to use or, worse, taking my attention away from my family and our friends with whom we shared the experience. And is often the case in these kinds of situations, my trusty little X100F, that diminutive photographic powerhouse, performed admirably.

I shot this the second night we were at the beach house, kind of as an experiment to see if I could capture even a fraction of the grandeur before me but also as a way of just getting some practice. Not living by the beach means I don’t have much experience with taking pictures like this, so while I had some things in mind as far as techniques and camera settings, I wasn’t sure how well it would all work.

In the end I think this image turned out pretty well considering the circumstances. (i.e. my inexperience, mostly.) I set my tripod on the sand with its legs fully collapsed, dialed in an exposure of f/16, ISO 200, and 28 second shutter, and took several shots as the sun was setting. Some were blurry because the ocean waves moved the sand beneath my tripod, but this one was sharp, colorful, and in my opinion the best of the bunch. I really like how the long exposure smoothed out the waves to a glassy shine, but I also wonder what it would look like if I would have been able to freeze the motion of a wave crashing on shore with a much faster shutter. Though given the light that would have necessitated a much larger aperture, and then I would have had depth of field problems, and…well, that’s how things go with photography. It’s all part of the fun :)

I was really going back and forth about what to do with this image. It’s not all that different from other photos I have taken of magnolia flowers over the years, and I’m not entirely sure it demonstrates much of anything in the way of growth and progression as a photographer. On the other hand, I like the picture from a compositional standpoint–it’s got some interesting elements all on its own, despite its similarity to other photos. I guess you could also consider it a companion piece to last week’s shot of a magnolia flower in an earlier state of bloom, whereas this one is nearing the end of its time as a flower before turning into a seed pod. Either way, I think this image stands on its own quite well even though it does have a couple minor issues that I’m not sure pleased with, and as such I figure it’s worth featuring here on the blog.

If there’s one thing that separates this shot from almost all my other magnolia flower photos I have taken, it’s the colors. Rather than white petals, green leaves, or red seeds this image is saturated with oranges, browns, and other earth tones. It’s almost the floral embodiment of Genesis 3:19, though at the same time could be considered foreshadowing for 2 Corinthians 5:15. Or maybe it’s just a cool-looking closeup of a flower. Whatever works for you :) The first thing you notice is the dark brown curlicues, or at least that was my intention, and then as you look outward from the center you’ll see that it’s embedded in this bundle of flower petals that were white but are now dull brown and will soon fall away–literally. There’s something kind of comforting about this shot, like the flower petals are almost hugging the core but knowing that their grasp won’t last long. At least that’s the kind of thought that it evokes for me anyway, but it might do something entirely different for you.

I shot this with my now-standard combination of Nikon D750 and 105mm f/2.8 macro lens, and like last week’s image I used a pretty small aperture of f/22 in order to get the shot nice and sharp where I wanted it. I did take a few exposures at f/11 and even f/8, but the depth of field was just way too small and the image wasn’t really that interesting as a result. Kind of a less-is-more, if you know what I mean. Or maybe more is more, since the depth of field is greater? I dunno. Either way, this was a fun image to take and in a lot of ways a new take on a familiar subject but one that I was glad I could capture.

Years ago in the spring of 2015 I took this photo of a magnolia tree flower while out walking around Theta Pond on the OSU campus, and that started a decade-long infatuation with photographing these magnificent signs of spring that show up every May here in Oklahoma. I don’t take photos of magnolias as often, and as regularly, as crocus or Indian paintbrush flowers, but they are fun to shoot when I have the opportunity. Or when I just think of it, because let’s face it, I often don’t :) Another classic is this top-down view that I took a few years later in the spring of 2017, again with my 50mm lens but augmented by a set of close-up filters. (Maybe a +4, perhaps? I can’t remember, and the image EXIF data doesn’t have any information about filters.) Both images were fine and, to be honest, quite good considering my skill level and the relatively modest gear with which I was shooting. But now, with a proper macro lens, it sure is fun to revisit some of these types of shots to see how things have evolved over time.

While this week’s photo wouldn’t have happened without its earlier counterparts as stepping stones on the path of learning, there’s no denying that by almost all accounts I can think of it’s just a better image. It’s much cleaner and crisper than the others, with a nice sense of contrast between light and dark. It has foreground petals to create a sense of depth and context, and I intentionally used a small aperture of f/22 in order to get a good balance between depth of field and subject sharpness. The one thing I wish I could do differently, and hope to pull off someday, is alter the lighting so that it’s more even and less harsh. At first the sun was covered in a layer of clouds, but over the course of just two or three minutes that I was facing the flower and firing off some exposures, the clouds dissipated and the sun came out—lending a brighter and more vibrant, but at the same time slightly less pleasant, light over the scene. It’s not bad, just one of those things I couldn’t control but hope to plan around the next time I go out to a magnolia tree with my camera in hand.

I’m curious though…when you look at this image, what do you see? A friend of mine took one look and said it was gross and disgusting, like dozens of slimy worms or something similar. I never thought of it that way, but everyone is entitled to their own interpretation when it comes to art, so this does leave me wondering what others see here. Is it even clear that it’s a flower, or did you think it was something else entirely? Have you taken similar shots and, if so, how did they turn out?