Camera settings, mistakes, and cognitive load

When I decided to dive headfirst into photography as a hobby, I was anxious about the technical jargon and understanding the myriad camera settings. The good news is that it wasn’t all that bad. I read and watched and learned a lot through trial and error.

Owning up to failure is always important. Being able to move on from a mistake to the next moment is even more important for continued growth in any field. I’ll tell you something, honestly: I still make plenty of mistakes!

Falling down – Nikon D40 and Nikkor 35mm 1.8 DX lens

Here are some of the most common photographic errors I continue to make:

  • Not resetting important camera settings: All too often, I’ve forgotten to change ISO when entering different light situations, or I’ve missed resetting exposure compensation.
  • The camera mis-pack: I’ve packed not enough when I needed extra gear and packed too much gear when I should have packed less.
  • SD card woes: Yes, I’ve filled up an SD card and forgotten to pack a backup. The only solution is to go through the recorded files and be brutal about deletion decisions.
  • ISO stubborn: Have you ever been stubborn about pushing your ISO in poor light situations? Base ISO is optimal for less digital noise in a photo, but a blurry photo just isn’t worth the stubborn refusal to UP the ISO a bit more to force a faster shutter speed! It’s better to have a noisy photo over a blurry one. Digital noise can be dealt with far more easily now using software tools. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve stubbornly refused to move from base ISO in fast-fading light, standing there with my arms tucked and not breathing just to cut as much movement as possible to achieve perfection at a too-slow shutter speed in hopes of a sharp image.
  • Reverse dialling: Older Nikon bodies dial positive and negative exposure compensation values in reverse to other cameras, so when my muscle memory becomes accustomed to the opposite dial movement of another camera, I find myself cursing the over or under-exposed photo on an old Nikon camera. At worst, I just forget the reverse dial motion completely until I’ve long moved on from the scene, at which point I sigh. Thankfully, the new Z-mount Nikons have changed both the exposure value dial direction and the reverse F-mount lens twist they had going for decades.
The old green gate of J. Martin & Co. – Nikon D40

I’ve been tough on myself in times past when it comes to making photographic mistakes. I think part of that was not feeling comfortable with the equipment and not believing I could learn enough to make good photos. In fairness, I still make plenty of stinky photos, but every poor photo teaches me something new, even if it’s a lesson I thought I’d already learned.

We can always improve our photography, but learning and living isn’t some easy linear path. It’s full of twists and turns and ups and downs. There are rocks of many different sizes littering the paths we walk. One of the hardest things to develop is self-compassion. We’re often kinder to strangers than we are to ourselves. But, why? We’re just as fragile and just as prone to mistakes as anyone else. All that truly matters is that we experience and inhabit the moment meaningfully, in whatever mode we choose: Auto, Program, Aperture Priority, Shutter Priority, or Manual.

Wending my way through photo edits on a quiet day ~ curation, technical considerations, and personal growth

It’s a public holiday and I’m working my way through old photos in hopes of finding some stray winners I’d forgotten about. I’ve always been my own biggest critic, editor, and curator. I think it’s good to develop our own tastes as photographers over time. It’s important to connect to our own photos without judgement, reflect on the image and the subject choice, consider the chosen settings, and remember our original photographic vision for the scene versus the actual image.

The key is to do this without judgement. Not every photo is going to meet your developing creative tastes. Not every photo is going to work at a technical level – some will be blurry, some will be rushed, some subject choices will seem odd, and some photos will seem dull. All this is absolutely OK. It needs to happen for growth to happen.

Sundial on a cloudy day – Olympus EM5 Mark 2 and Zenitar 16mm 2.8 Fisheye lens

I love the way the sunlight hits the sundial to reveal the texture of the metal in the photo above. All of the rust spots, built-up debris, weathering, and patina is visually interesting. The old Zenitar Fisheye would be a specialist lens on a 35mm camera, but on the half-sized sensor of the Olympus it works out to an equivalent focal length of 32mm and functions as a nice wide lens with a sharp centre and mushy corners. In situations where I want to get close and get in as much of the scene as possible, it’s a great lens.

There’s a little blown out highlight right up the top, but blown highlights and blocked shadows are not necessarily bad things, and in the above photo it’s very small and not distracting. There are so many other elements that make up a photo! Consider these questions: is there any detail in the highlights/shadows that you want to preserve? Will preserving those details add to your photo? If you make a photograph and part of the image features a glowing light bulb, for example, should you decrease the exposure to bring down this highlight so that the filament inside the bulb can be seen? Will doing this compromise other elements in your photo? How integral are those highlights and shadows to your photographic vision? Instead of the sensor having to manage dynamic range that exceeds its capabilities, can you simply reframe the image instead to include less heavy highlights/shadows?

Cheapo Mad Max – Olympus E1

In the photo above, my decision to focus on the car door was made easy by the fact that the window at the top was allowing in a lot of light. The E1 has an old sensor that doesn’t manage high dynamic range so well, so it made sense for me to cut out most of the light from the window in my viewfinder composition so as to preserve the details in darker areas and on the car door. In effect, the old sensor didn’t need to work so hard to contain all of the dynamic range in the scene.

The red paint on the left, the curved red painted area to the bottom right, and the window at the top all serve to frame the weather-beaten door and its message. It may not be the most exciting photo in the world, but it works for me and it’s a good example of connecting a scene to a photographic vision through careful composition and technical knowledge. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not always good at that and plenty of photos don’t meet my own tastes, but I keep learning.

Digging deeper into a cache of unedited photos ~ thoughts on subject and composition

In my previous post, I revealed a cache of old photos I’d discovered on a hard-drive backup. Apart from giving me an excuse to go into Lightroom and do something that isn’t related to my day job, it also provides me an opportunity to reflect on why I made those photos. What was my intent? What did I find interesting at the time? What scenes and subjects caught my eye and why?

Painting in the details – Olympus EM5 Mark 2 and unknown vintage lens

I really like the way the painter seems to blend in with her mural. She’s leaning forward at just the right angle so that her body almost becomes part of the skin tones and the angle of limbs on the wall. Her bright yellow hair also contrasts well against the blue paint. There’s colour, shape, contrast, and detail – all providing a visual feast for the viewer’s eyes.

Ripples and shadows – Olympus EM5 Mark 2

There’s something wonderful about the way water reflects and bends light. In the photo above, the setting sun provides gloomy and interesting light that plays across the surface of the water. The ripples themselves form an interesting pattern, leading the eye in a circular motion to the silhouette of the duck and the tree stump. I also love the way that the shadows of these subjects are distorted by the ripples and lead away and out of the photo to the edge of the frame.

The small beauty of everyday things

Do you ever find beauty in everyday things? Seemingly mundane stuff is part of the fabric of our daily lives, existing quietly in the background. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially on days when I feel as though I lack photographic inspiration. I can’t help but think that we’re sometimes looking for the big things as photographers, hoping they’ll catch the attention of online communities often engulfed by their own search for attention and validation. I’ve touched on that before too, of course.

Gaze – Sony RX100

Seeing everyday things in a fresh way that reveals their beauty isn’t a new idea. Contemplative photography and Miksang are approaches that emphasise an unpretentious photographic practice that’s mindful and completely present in the moment. The elevation of technical perfection is secondary to the experience of being in the world – of being aware of the moment completely and utterly. In this sense, it draws parellels to mindfulness and meditation, where inhabiting the moment non-judgementally is key.

Draped colours in strong sunlight – Olympus OMD EM5 Mark 2

There’s an interesting tension in this approach – maintaining a mind that’s open to details without becoming overly distracted by them.

When I inhabit the moment in photography, I pause momentarily to make a photo when a scene tugs at my attention gently enough that it doesn’t completely dislodge my middle-focus. Middle-focus occurs when attention hovers between soft and intense – when it’s non-judgemental and simply observational – when we focus on a thing without placing too much value on it or too much thought into it, and don’t allow it to draw us too close. In this state, we recognise something as being of value photographically, but our attention only skims across it – like a small boat floating lightly on clear water.

If this middle-focus state is dislodged and derailed, if the small boat sinks, the mindful journey will stop like a train pulling into the station to accept noisy passengers. This is the moment where mindfulness is thwarted and attention inhabits the distraction too fully, too intensely, and with an overburden of thought and judgement of value.

Morning delivery – Sony RX100

What defines this gentle pull at the edges of attention? What qualities in a scene are important? This is likely different for every photographer. For me, it’s important that such photos inhabit a space somewhere between details normally unnoticed and scenes that communicate meaning softly and quietly.

In the space between inspiration

Lately, I’ve been exploring the idea of quiet photography: noticing the quiet corners and seeking the details. When the big moments of inspiration don’t strike, it’s important not to feel the pressure of having to make photos. But if there is the tiniest inkling of wanting to pick up the camera at such times, why not commit to the small photos of everyday moments? Isn’t it in the everyday that we find a fresh view of the world?

Fire Panel – Sony RX100

Oh, where would I be without my little Sony RX100? Small, black, and set to silent mode, I re-discovered the joys of using it last year after keeping it in a drawer for too long. When the big Nikon seems too hefty for the moment, I’m always happy to find some fresh detail with the little Sony camera. Somehow, it feels less serious and more fun than my Nikons when inspiration lacks. Of course, it can make great pictures, but then again, so can a 100 year old film box!

Splashes of yellow – Sony RX100

Quiet corners and photos of distinct insignificance

In my previous post, I touched on the idea that not every photo needs to be epic and impactful. Not every moment needs to be recorded. We must always remember that seeing and feeling are at the heart of photographic practice. In cultivating the eye and heeding the pull of emotion, we enable synchronicity with the environment, and in this momentary state the camera records our imaginative trajectory through the world.

Yet, sometimes the photos are small and quiet. They’re not loud or imposing at all. These are the quiet corners and the scenes forgotten in a rush. They’re just as important and they’re the details we often miss.

Empty bottles in the sun at a second-hand shop in the country – Sony RX100

In a world where we often clamour for attention, hoping for some notoriety or virality, for some interaction on social media, for the epic amplification of our voice, being loud seems to have become the default mode for many. The intense desire to be heard above the digital cacophany may signify the ongoing trend to further isolation, loneliness, and insularity but the small and quiet photo, bereft of loud intentions and sweeping announcements, is a momentary escape. This is where we connect the eye, the heart, and the imagination to the world.

Out with the old – Sony RX100

What do you do when your photos don’t inspire?

The sun was out, there was a nice breeze, and we had an entire afternoon free. A drive to Blanchetown should have provided fruitful inspiration for photographs. But it didn’t, mostly. The weather was kind, the company good, the battery charged, and the Nikon Z5 ready for anything. So, what happened? It was me…

You know those days as a photographer when things just don’t come together? There’s a disconnect between what you see and how you feel. You compose and press the shutter but the result fails to inspire you. At times like this, I do a few things:

  • Remove the pressure from myself by leaning into other moments. Not everything needs to be camera-worthy and not every moment needs to be recorded. Enjoy the day and put down the camera;
  • Take out a different camera for fun and just focus on other scenes – details, textures, shadows. There’s good stuff in the small stuff.
Peeling and rusting – Sony RX100

Finding the details again

Sometimes, it’s easy to fall into the trap of wanting every photo to make a big impact. But those magical sunsets full of great colours don’t come around too often. Those moments when the photographic mind and heart are synchronised with the wider world aren’t always available to us. At these times, it’s important to take a step back and access other areas of the photographic process: enjoying the moment, seeing the details.

Peeling and rusting 2 – RX100

Accepting fate and below average photos

Sometimes, even when we dig into another bag of tricks, the photos don’t turn out great. Over time, we develop a sense of taste and curate our photographic output, so what might please someone else won’t please us. Part of the creative journey is developing taste and deciding which photos meet our taste standards to become the ones that really make an impact.

The remaining, less than stellar, photos are still important because they’re part of the journey to get to the photos that meet a well-developed artistic taste. Some days are about honing the eye and sensibility. Not every photo is going to be a winner and that’s OK. In fact, it needs to happen, otherwise things get boring and you don’t sharpen your eye, your imagination, your taste, and your art.

Waterbirds on twisted branches – RX100

Flowers, trees, and Chihuly

In my previous post, I didn’t have a lot to say, other than to talk about the sculptures of Dale Chihuly. Turns out, I still don’t have a lot to say, so I’ll let the sculptures speak for themselves. Sometimes, we need the contemplative therapy that photography can provide.

Float Boat and Niijima Floats by Dale Chihuly, 2012 – 2019 – Nikon D40

How shiny are those polyvitro baubles? Even on a cloudy day those colours really pop. By now, I’ve resigned myself to the idea that old CCD cameras like the Nikon D40 just seem tuned to produce punchy and colourful photos, even when set to RAW.

Magenta Flowers – Nikon D40

As lovely as the sculptures are, the gardens are full of opportune moments for one with a camera. Luckily, the flowers were in bloom.

The Sun by Dale Chihuly, 2014 – Nikon D40

The Sun really exemplifies Chihuly’s installation – an explosion of powerful colours spreading dynamically in all directions.

The original sculpture, green in all directions – Nikon D40

Sunsets and uncomfortable confrontations

Yes, it was another cloudy day and I was out with the Finepix 6500fd. Driving around tiny old towns, largely forgotten and left to people with desires to escape the rest of the world, can be surprising sometimes. Yes, there are plenty of interesting ruins to look at and photograph, but occasionally there are also encounters with unfriendly locals.

Old Post Office – Finepix 6500fd

Admittedly, not an awesome photo, but the old Post Office above is an interesting building. I’m always careful when it comes to remaining in public areas, as there’s largely few restrictions on what can be photographed as long as it can be viewed from a public area that one is occupying. I can walk along any public road or path and photograph buildings and most other things without a problem.

The confrontation

So, there I was in the middle of an old dirt road, pointing my camera at an old Post Office. A car pulled up and out hopped a local. She asked me in a very pointed manner: “Why are your taking photos of my house?”. A little surprised, and somewhat curious, I replied, “You live in the Post Office building?”.

It turns out she didn’t live there, but in the house next door. I assured her I had no interest in photographing her home, but only the old building because it “looks cool”. She clarified and told me that she only uses it for storage. I tried to de-escalate the situation and asked about the history of the building and when it was closed down. She responded but still was very unhappy and asked me again why I was making photos of her home. At this point I politely fare-welled her and left, knowing that it was pointless to continue the conversation.

Mangroves at sunset – Finepix 6500fd

Reflecting on feelings and laws

I knew I wasn’t doing anything illegal and this was simply a case of an unhappy and suspicious local. That’s perfectly understandable, of course. There’s a difference between what I can legally photograph and how someone feels about it. I’d tried to cool things down and assure her that I wasn’t interested in photographing her home, but rather just a nice old building with some history. Rather than argue any legal point about public land, it was simply better for me to leave.

I’m often in two minds about these, thankfully rare, situations. On one hand, I understand that someone might be suspicious of a stranger coming to town and having an interest in their property. Would I also react similarly if someone was camped outside my home with a camera pointed at it? I may, though I’d likely be mostly interested in the camera gear. On the other hand, it’s certainly not illegal to photograph things from the vantage point of public land.

If the person is open to a conversation, I think it’s reasonable to explain what you’re doing and why you have an interest. I don’t think it’s helpful to start a conversation about legalities around the act of photography because this may be more likely to cause more upset. There’s an understandable emotional response involved that does cause some personal dilemma but I think it’s wise to consider both sides.

It’s certainly perfectly reasonable to photograph the world around us, yet remain aware of the private and public boundaries that are sometimes difficult to define. It’s also reasonable to consider the potentially strident reaction that a person might have to the act of photography in an area they consider, legally or not, their turf. Despite the dilemma, I remain on the side of photographing the world within legal limits, and if there’s a confrontation, explaining why I’m there in hopes this will provide context and calm the situation.

In the end, we finally saw a great sunset:

A welcome sunset – Finepix 6500fd