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.