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

This photo is kind of a continuation of some themes that have wound their way through my photos recently, and though that was not really my intent I do acknowledge that it might have crept in there subconsciously in one way or another. First, and most obvious, is that this is very clearly a coneflower and, as such, bears a striking similarity to the other coneflower photos I have taken and shared recently here on Weekly Fifty. Another is that the general composition, that of a single centered subject framed by lights on either side, is one I have been exploring recently as well. And finally, I think on some level, whether I’m aware of it or not, I’m still trying to atone for the subpar nature of this shot I shared not too long ago–the one that, despite kind of working on a technical level, just didn’t look right in the end despite all my fiddling with sliders in Lightroom.

I shot this, as I did with many others recently, while walking from my car to my building on the way to work just as the sun was coming up. The framing here was deliberate: I moved myself around, kind of kneel-walking around the pavement with my Nikon D750 held out in front of me with Live View enabled, until I had the composition just how I wanted it: flower in the middle bright spots of light on either side in the top corners. It also had the secondary effect of adding a touch of backlighting to the flower petals which was unexpected but quite cool nonetheless, and then the little extras like spider webs, bits of dust, and even the orange flower poking up in the lower-right corner add a fun sense of depth, texture, and dare I say it, serendipity to the shot.

The one thing I wasn’t quite sure of here was the exposure setting: specifically, what aperture to use in order to get a depth of field that was not too wide and not too narrow. I ended up on f/13 (1/250 second, ISO 2000, which was then corrected in Lightroom with Denoise) and you know what? I’m really happy with how that choice worked out. It really is in this fun sweet spot: sharp subject, blurry background, and a nice falloff from the front of the flower to the back. The stem is blurry too, but not overly so, and the background is blurry but, like the green stalk in the center, not too blurry.

The one thing I don’t really like here is the color. It’s just kind of…bland. Sure it has a nice sense of contrast, but the palette is basically green and white which isn’t all that interesting. Maybe what I should have done was try to use that orange flower in the foreground instead…but no worries. I do like this photo and I think it works fine in most of the ways that really matter to me, and it gives me a few things to consider the next time I’m strolling down the sidewalk, camera in hand, just as the sun is peeking over the horizon.

The Super Mario Bros. mushroom power-up is one of the most iconic images in gaming, and perhaps even the broader landscape of popular culture. Its squat, stumpy, anthropomorphic appearance is instantly recognizable, whether made from 256 pixels on the original NES to…whatever they use on the latest Mario games. It’s instantly recognizable as a mushroom, and yet, it’s not often that we see natural phenomenæ that actually resemble it. Or, at least, I don’t recall seeing many mushrooms like the ones in a Mario game in my yard, on hikes, or anywhere. But on a recent rainy morning as I was, and I swear I am not making this up, just walking around in my yard looking for photo opportunities with my Nikon D750 and 105mm macro lens in hand, I came across the little fungal blob featured as today’s photo. I thought it would make an interesting shot, and kind of as an afterthought I also realized that it looked just a tiny bit like its 8-bit counterpart. Though unlike one of the Mario Brothers, I did not attempt to eat it in order to gain super powers. Maybe next time.

The mushroom was about an inch and a half tall, nestled among some ground cover and glistening with a sheen brought on by a night of precipitation. It really did give me the sense that it had just poked up from the ground, defying the dirt and gravity in the process, and was triumphantly announcing its presence to any who happened to be in the area. Such as me :) I lowered my camera to the ground, dialed in an aperture of f/16, and fired off a couple shots at slightly different angles. Unlike last week’s mushroom photo I really didn’t consider a variety of vantage points; I knew that this view would give me the photo I was looking for, complete with green grass in the background and even one blade in the foreground for context but also to reinforce the idea that the viewer was peeking into a bit of a hidden world. I particularly liked the rich colors present in every portion of the frame: deep oranges, rich reds, bright greens, and brown earthtones throughout. What really struck me though was all the dirt specks on the cap of the mushroom, and the bright spot of light on the top left portion of the bulbous dome. It really helps sell how wet everything was, which doesn’t really come through too well in the other elements such as the grass and leaves.

This photo, in a sense, is everything I like about taking pictures. It’s an interesting subject that I was able to capture just a few feet from my house, and in doing so it forced me to look at something familiar in a new way. I’m not saying that all pictures have to do that kind of thing, and sometimes it’s fun to just go out and shoot everyday things like food, cars, fences, light posts, and other normal objects for no particular reason than you just want to. I certainly do, and anything that gets your camera off the shelf and into your hands is a good thing. But sometimes it’s also cool to push just a little bit more, and find ways to use photography to see the familiar, the pedestrian, the incredibly normal, in a way that is anything but.

Twelve years ago I used my old Nikon D200 and 50mm f/1.8 lens to take this picture of some mushrooms outside my office at work. While it might seem kind of unremarkable to take a photo of a lump of fungus protruding from the ground, I’ve learned that these kinds of scenes are pretty cool; I quite enjoy these photo opportunities when they come about. Maybe it’s because of the fleeting nature of these small helmeted white stalks–they show up and disappear often within the span of a single day. It might also be related to the wet, rainy, overcast weather conditions in which mushrooms are most likely to appear which also just so happen to be ideal for the kinds of photos I like to take. In any case, I really like taking pictures of mushrooms.

The thing about these kinds of shots, though, is that you can’t always plan them out in advance. Or, if you can, I sure haven’t learned how to do it. Case in point: the image featured today. I went out to trim some tree branches on a humid morning after a night of rain, and came across a couple small, domed, white stalks that had popped up overnight. I didn’t even think about mushrooms when I grabbed the ladder and loppers, but after the branches were pruned I ran inside, grabbed my Nikon D750 and 105mm macro lens, and went back out to see if I could get a couple shots. Turns out, I did.

Unlike most other photos I share here on Weekly Fifty, this one was a bit unique in that I had a great deal of options available to me in terms of overall composition. Since the lighting was overcast and fairly even, and since I had plenty of room to maneuver, I basically circled it and took pictures from many different vantage points. There really weren’t any constraints, which meant I could use any of the available backgrounds I wanted: trees, houses, fences, etc. My favorite ended up being what you see here: a break in the trees filled with bright spots of light, with the rest of the frame occupied by grass with the mushroom rising like a spire right in the center. I vacillated between f/13 and f/19, opting for the latter in the final shot due to more overall sharpness and less depth of field, while still making the foreground and background elements plenty blurry. It’s one of those odd, slightly counterintuitive rules I continue to learn when shooting with my macro lens: less (depth of field) often does equal more (impactful compositions).

I hope to continue taking photos of mushrooms when I get the chance–that is, on warm rainy days in the early morning, preferably in my own back, front, or side yard. They are immensely satisfying, and there’s something kind of fun about the ephemeral nature of such subjects: here today, gone tomorrow, maybe one day to reappear…and hopefully when a photographer has camera in hand to capture them.

If there’s one thing you can count on for Weekly Fifty, it’s that pretty much every year, at some point, you’ll come across a picture that looks something like this. It’s my sort-of annual (I mean, I don’t specifically go out of my way to do this each year but, as Calvin said, these things just seem to happen) image of an Indian Paintbrush flower–which is the colloquial name for these here in Oklahoma though, as the title suggests, they are members of the Figwort family and carry several other names as well. It might seem somewhat self-indulgent to post a picture like this each year (and again, it’s not like I do this on purpose) but at the end of the day…I just like these flowers. Are they invasive? I guess. Are they a nuisance? Depends on who you ask. Are they pretty, especially if you can capture them at dawn or dusk? Most definitely. And, as far as criteria that matters most for this particular context…are they fun to photograph? As they say up north, yah you betcha.

I remember years ago taking shots of these flowers with my little ol’ 50mm f/1.8 lens on a crop sensor D7100 or D200, and being struck at how brilliant they looked especially in the right light. The one featured today is no exception, and while I now usually use a macro lens on a full-frame camera, the basic idea is kind of the same: center the subject in the frame, and use background elements such as grass, trees, and sky for color, contrast, and of course, context. I took this in my neighbor’s field one evening as the sun was settting, and while it’s not going to win any awards for creativity, it’s one of those images that I just…enjoy. Top to bottom, start to finish, this was a fun photo to take and a nice one to look at. All the elements are there: rich reds, deep greens, dark trees in the background, bright spots of sky sneaking through near the top, and a nice level of detail too thanks to the f/13 aperture and decent distance between lens and subject. There’s even a bit of foreground action too, with a single blade of grass slicing diagonally across the shot. If you look closely you can see other interesting bits and bobs too, like another flower on the right and something shiny in the top-left (honestly not sure with that one. Perhaps just a gap in the trees?) or you can just…not look closely at all and enjoy the picture for what it is.

Most of the time I find myself using Weekly Fifty to stretch, learn, and grow as a photographer–something I talk about quite often, in fact. But there are also times when it’s really more of a pleasant, gentle nudge to myself–a reminder to take that camera down from the shelf, go outside, and see what wonders I might find. And sometimes the simplicity of those scenarios, and the mere act of taking the photo, are some of the best reasons to be a photographer.

I shot this in my neighbor’s field, the same location where I have taken many flower photos over the years, at the tail end of a good, long day of rain. The ground, grass, trees, and every conceivable surface was saturated after the hours-long drenching and I thought these conditions, along with waning daylight, would give me one or two good photo opportunities. I didn’t have anything specific in mind other than to capture an composition that felt like the scene I was seeing. I walked around among the grass for a while, my feet in sandals growing ever-more damp while the slightest drizzle continued to fall all around me, and soon came across the purple flower you see above. That’s when I knew I had something I could work with.

To be clear, I usually don’t attempt to impart any meaning in my images in the metaphorical sense. This flower doesn’t represent anything, and the colors, shooting conditions, or any other element of the shot is not meant to speak to a deeper meaning or draw any sort of comparison. But art is subjective, and meaning is intensely personal, so feel free to take from this what you will. You could look at the bright purple, slightly off center, and imagine as the title implies: a sense of sadness, fading glory, or better things behind. Alternatively, one would be equally justified in taking from this scene a sense of hope and renewal, cleansing and clarity, and imagine the flower functioning as a commentary on the broader human condition. Personally, all I see here is…well, a flower dripping with precipitation after a rainstorm. But you get to take from this whatever you want, and your interpretation and understanding is just as valid as anything I might express, having no less value for want of clicking the shutter yourself.

But, as the saying goes, I digress. That’s part of the fun though :) I shot this with my Nikon D750 and 105mm f/2.8 macro lens, with nary a weather seal in sight I might add, and dialed in an aperture of f/11, Auto-ISO set to minimum shutter of 1/200, and final ISO value of 640. In terms of technical composition the flower sits neatly along the left-hand vertical third, just like you might see in a Beginner’s Guide to Taking Photos textbook; it’s not going to win points for creativity, but gosh darnit, it just works and that’s alright with me. If I have any regrets about this shot it’s that I didn’t use just a slightly smaller aperture: the lower-most raindrop is in focus, but the front-facing petal is just slightly blurry. I could have mitigated that if only I had used f/13, but that’s how it goes in photography, and instead of looking back I’m instead going to look forward and try to adjust my settings a bit for the next time I find myself in this kind of situation.

Because if we’re not learning and growing, we’re stagnating, and that is not a situation in which I intend to find myself.