The Invisible Man in the Street

Many who have tried their hand at "street photography" have surely, at one time or another, wished that they could find a Harry Potter-esque invisibility cloak at their local photo dealer, nestled in alongside the wibbly tripods, card readers and tobacco grad starburst filters. I say "many" rather than "anyone" because there are of course those who go out of their way to influence the scene before them. Like an old-school, tweed-suited wedding photographer, they will not be happy until they have stage-managed the people in shot, getting them to pose and smile. They are probably the same people who, as children, endlessly rearranged their Airfix 1/72nd scale commando platoon in height order by hat size. This type of invasive approach is "portraiture" in my view, not "street photography".

Those of you with a scientific background ( I know you are out there, I can hear your test-tube bubbling) will understand the "Hawthorne Effect" - a form of reactivity (it says here) whereby subjects improve an aspect of their behaviour that is being measured in direct response to the fact that they are being measured. In photographic terms, this is the equivalent of someone noticing that you are framing them up and pulling their stomach in, either voluntarily or involuntarily as a result, in order to make themselves "look better". In so doing they may very well no longer be as "interesting" as they were in the first place, and indeed may no longer be worth tripping the shutter.

So, in the absence of magic cloaks, what is the answer for the photographer who wants to capture life as it happens, without changing, or being a part of, what's going on? The natural coward has a couple of options - use a long lens (which is great if you are in a hide of some sort shooting wild birds, but is still likely to attract unwelcome attention if spotted in your local high street), or, in the finest tradition of the Wild West, shoot 'em in the back. The latter is not a bad technique per se, but if it is the only approach used it does call into question the photographers' motivation, let alone his ability to look people in the eye. No. Unobtrusive discretion is the keyword... er, words. Cartier-Bresson was a big gawky Frenchman, and he got away with it for years, so surely it can't be that hard.

Can it?

Then there is a whole school of thought that theorises that the size of one's equipment has a major influence on whether or not one is noticed. Whilst this may have some truth in the porn movie industry, it is far less relevant to the budding street snapper than many would like to believe. In all honesty, sticking tape over the red dot on your Leica is more likely to arouse curiosity of the "When did you break your camera?" variety. It does not make you look more "street" - it does make you look like an obsessive nerd with issues and too much time on your hands. Of course at the extreme there is a point at which your kit will get you noticed. One of those nice big white zoom lenses for SLRs with a front element the diameter of a Starbucks' super-grande soya latte are hard to avoid - I know, for I have been clouted by one in a crowd in the past.

My personal preference is to blend in, plant myself and keep movement to a minimum. Let the images come to me, rather than go seeking them like a demented ninja. Like any good fisherman you do have to choose what the military would refer to as a "target rich environment", of course - it's no good stationing yourself on a deserted country lane and expecting a decisive moment or two within the lifetime of the average snail. In a busy street the way the human mind works is that you will rapidly become part of the scenery. Even if you are wearing a yellow jerkin of the sort favoured by road-sweepers and lollipop ladies, this will be the case. You are there, and therefore you fade from direct consciousness.

You can enhance this effect by dressing appropriately. Going out in a "photo vest" and a pair of zip-off Rohan trousers, with a camera suspended around your neck on a strap that screams "CANON DIGITAL" in big friendly day-glo letters will make it that bit harder for you to convince people that you have just parked yourself there for a quick cappuchino and a biscotti. In general, people see what they expect to see, and disregard the rest. So if you are at Henley, a stripey blazer will help you to blend in. If you are in the City, a pinstripe suit will probably be more helpful, and so on.

There is also an interesting reverse effect, that relies upon what Douglas Adams christened the "SEP Field", where SEP stands for "Someone Else's Problem". Again, this is a bit of mental sleight of hand that relies upon the laziness of the human brain. People do not tend to look - really look - at certain types of people - "Big Issue" sellers, charity muggers, street workers and urban inhabitants in general. The ubiquitous yellow jerkin previously referred to may make you feel conspicuous when you first don it, but put on some old jeans, a tatty sweater, heavy work boots and said jerkin and notice how quickly you fade from people's consciousness. They will actively go out of their way not to make eye contact, or to "take you in".

There are two other factors to consider in our lexicon of unobtusiveness. Firstly, movement. In very simple terms, a jerky, rapid movement catches the eye, while a slow and deliberate one does not. Don't blame me for that - blame our cave-dwelling ancestors and your primitive "monkey brain". Ug and Og realised that a sabre-toothed tiger tends to move faster, and more belligerently, than a three-toed sloth, so their descendants are hard-wired to this day to notice, and react to, sudden and possibly threatening movements. Swinging your camera to your eye as if you are about to launch a grenade in someone's direction is far more likely to cause a negative reaction than a slow, gentle swing up to your eye and away again. I also have a theory, by the way, that people are getting more and more habituated to the mobile 'phone stance for picture taking - small device held in portrait fashion, up high at half-arm's length, peering at a screen - than a small camera raised to the eye. I have no scientific proof for this, but if you try it out let me know.

I think I was spotted...

Last, but far from least, comes the power of "assumed authority". Con artists rely on this all the time. If you look like you know what you are doing, and that you should be there, people will accept that as the status quo. Again, it relies on the laziness of the human brain - if it looks right, it must be right, and we will look no further. Try wearing a reasonably smart suit on a Saturday and standing still with your hands clasped behind your back in a branch of Austin Reed (or Brooks Brothers, for transatlantic readers). I guarantee that within two minutes someone will come over and ask if you have a shirt in a 14 and a half collar in the stockroom. Similarly, if you handle your camera about as if you know how to use it (I am assuming that you do) and make no effort to hide, or look even remotely furtive, you can get away with murder (and the shot).

My most extreme example of this was at a convention in Brighton for the most ardent followers of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". I was there to shoot the fans, some of whom go to the most extraordinary lengths to dress and make themselves up as their favourite characters. Because I was dressed and looked like a security man's idea of a photographer rather than a fan I was not challenged when I unintentionally passed a "no-entry" sign and found myself in the presence of some of the stars of the show. I quickly asked them to pose, which they did without demur. I got off at least half a dozen shots before my lack of ID badge was noticed and I was politely asked to "buggeroff".

The pictures? Well, I would love to show you, but strangely enough, they were mostly blank. I suppose it must be true what they say about vampires...

Bill

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- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.
- Why do all cameras, on film or tv, sound like a Nikon F3 with a motordrive?

For...ummmm...

What is it about posting on internet photo forums that makes otherwise confident people turn into blathering jellies?

Picture the scene - I am sitting at home one evening when my 'phone rings. A voice says:

"Hello. I intend to buy a suit tomorrow. Do you think I should buy a black one or a blue one? And what about pinstripes?"

How should I know? I don't know the chap, I have no idea whether he is tall, short, fat, thin or purple with blue spots. Critically, I don't have an insight into his tastes.

Daft, innit?

So why do otherwise sane (big leap of faith, I know) people go on internet fora to ask total strangers whether they should buy a black or a chrome camera body? Leaving aside for a moment the practical aspects - black paint wears faster than chrome plate, for example - why would anyone think that someone else would have an aesthetic insight that could possibly relate to them? Do they spend their lives in a fog of eternal indecision, wondering whether to have tea or coffee? I think not...

...I hope not.

And another thing.

Why do so many people list their kit in their signatures? I don't mean a quick one liner, I mean a full inventory of every filter, flash lead and viewfinder that occupies their presumably enormous gadget bag? I have lost count of the number of posts that are shorter than their originator's signature. I used to have a mother-in-law (#1, I think) who said "the only difference between men and boys is the size of their toys". In that, at least, I think she had a point. I really couldn't care less how many lenses or bodies someone has. It neither makes them a better person nor gives them any enhanced right to be listened to, but some will persist in listing to the same level of obsessive detail as a ten-year old giving their home address:

15 Railway Cuttings
Chigley
Trumptonshire
England
United Kingdom
Europe
The World
The Solar System...

..and so on.

There is a similar "bragging rights" factor at work when the "Armchair CEO" pitches up. Often more interested in a camera as an investment rather than as a picture taking tool, the Armchair CEO has absolute certitude on his side. He has a lifetime of doing "stuff" in, with, or for companies and he is therefore ideally placed to "save" the unfortunate company that produces the object of his affection. Never mind that he has no access to the books, or that he has never worked in the industry, he and he alone (f0r it is always a he) has THE answer to the company's "problems". He will of course never research before pontificating and heaven help anyone who introduces inconvenient logic into the equation. The Armchair CEO is often congenitally unable to appreciate any point of view other than his own and struggles with dissent "in the ranks". He is also incapable of running any form of search to establish what has been said before. Either that, or he is sure that, if HE says it, everyone will realise how right he is.

Finally, we come full circle to the bag fetishist. They are closely related to those ladies for whom a new pair of shoes is a religious observance, and a platform is not something that trains arrive at. Never mind practicality, the bag fetishist is in search of that holy grail of camera bags - something that almost but not quite says "I'm full of cameras", but only in a language understandable by a select few. They want to be able to flaunt their taste and photographic wealth in such a way that they are completely invisible to anyone that might want to mug them for it. This group are probably responsible, single-handed, for the consumption of more server space than any other.


A bag fetishist's dream - look at all that shiny brass!!

Forum members all. Love 'em, hate 'em, but they keep the world spinning - and bag manufacturers in business.

Bill

--o-O-o--

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.
- Are Armchair CEOs answerable to a Side Board?

Rangefinding

I realise that I have been writing this blog now for some time without actually focussing (pun intended) on the personal trajectory that led me here, and to the name of this blog.

I am an unashamed user of rangefinder cameras, predominantly Leica. I use LTM (Leica Thread Mount) and M-mount bodies and a selection of lenses from 15 to 135mm and from Leica, Voigtlander and Canon. I appreciate that this makes me a member of a minority these days, all the more so since I continue to enjoy and use film. I have SLRs of course - there are some things that rangefinders do not do as well as cameras with a mirror prism - but in terms that Mr. Pareto would understand, they can do 80% of what I want, but only get used 20% of the time. In the words of a public service broadcaster, "other brands are available" but I use Leica because I appreciate the quality, heritage and inventiveness that the brand embodies.

Why? What is it that makes a Leica rangefinder camera my tool of choice? There are a number of factors. Some are mechanical, objective, easy to explain and to understand, but others are more subjective and ephemeral.

On the practical side, the rangefinder mechanism puts less between me and my subject. The camera is (often) physically smaller, and the view is more "immediate". The SLR view, even on the best and clearest, looks and feels more like a display screen, flat and two dimensional. The rangefinder image is more three-dimensional, to me at least.

Secondly, the SLR view is "WYSIWYG" - again, the best SLRs provide a 100% view of the subject - exactly what the film sees, and what will be translated to the film plane (or sensor). The Leica M series cameras, in their many variations, often provide a view wider than what the lens sees. This makes it easier to anticipate action and composition, certainly far easier than when looking down the tightly defined SLR "tube".

Thirdly, something to which I have already referred - size. This has two aspects; carrying the bulk and weight of an SLR and a brace of lenses on a hot day is not something I enjoy. Then there is the reaction of somebody who has a large black thing with a 72mm diameter barrel pointed at them. It is hard to do so un-noticed, and once noticed the very presence of an SLR can change the dynamics of the scene that you wanted to capture. A rangefinder is usually much smaller; both less obtrusive and less threatening. In the case of a small LTM "Barnack" camera (so named after it's designer) the reaction, if noticed at all, is more often curiosity or amusement - a much more photogenic result.

Enough of the physical aspects. One of the main reasons I take photos is simply because I enjoy doing so. It is simultaneously a creative and relaxing pursuit. I learned long ago the hard way that if I use a camera I don't feel comfortable with the end results will be lacklustre. I don't have to do this for a living so I have the luxury of choice. To me, using a rangefinder is instinctive, fun and tactile. Most Leicas work well for me in that respect. There are a few that don't, for one reason or another, and good as they may be it rules them out for me as day-to-day tools to use and enjoy. Later LTM cameras, that have the view- and rangefinder windows close together are one example. At the other extreme lies the M8. The benefits of digital are outweighed by the brick-like handling among other things.

Does using a rangefinder make me a better photographer? No, of course not. But it does make me enjoy the process of photography more, in the same way that using a fountain pen or a good quality propelling pencil makes writing more pleasurable than does a ballpoint. Both are capable of being used to capture thought and expression, but one is much more enjoyable to use than the other. For me, the pencil/pen analogy is a good one; the rangefinder camera is a bit old-fashioned, but it's use makes me more considered and measured. Just as my handwriting is better with a fine writing instrument, so my photography flows better with a rangefinder.

Sometimes it is not just about the end result - sometimes the journey - and how you make it - is of equal importance.

Bill

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- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.
- Is someone who doesn't like having their picture taken photo-sensitive...?

Photo Analysis

No, I'm not going to write about the aesthetics of photography, about the rule of thirds or any other form of compositional criticism. The "photo analysis" to which I refer is the extent to which you can get inside a photographer's state of mind from the images they capture.

Of course it isn't quite as simple as that... there are a number of "gates" through which the photographer's images must pass before they are available to us for analysis. First, they have to survive "first view" - that's the first time the photographer sees his baby and has a chance to decide whether he likes it or not. In this digital age, first view is often on a small screen on the back of the camera. The more impulsive photographer may jab the delete button there and then - a beginner's mistake if ever there was one. The more considered (For which usually read "experienced" photographer knows better, and will view his outputs calmly some time after the event. The distance of time and space should enable him to be more objective in his editing.

The next big gate is "first edit"- of the images taken at the time, only some will be regarded by the photographer as good enough to be seen by the outside world. The third and final gate is "last edit". This is the big one - which images tell the story, how many should be shown and in what order? Whether a single shot, a tryptich or a complete photo-essay, whether a macro shot of a bug or a happy family snap the weeding process is essentially the same.

Some photographers self-edit very well. They understnd and appreciate that "less is more". Others hold the opposite view. They present an optic-nerve numbing parade of dismally monotonous shots that leave the viewer contemplating feigning death as a means of escape. A few years ago this involved sitting on the sofa at somebody's house with an album balanced on your knees (happy snapper) or a slide show ("advanced" amateur) popping in front of you. Now the bores can invade your desktop and your home via the medium of the internet and photo gallery and sharing sites such as Flickr. I'm not blaming the medium, by the way - it is a tool that can be abused like any other.

So. After all that, we have an image, or better a set of images, to assess. They can immediately communicate to us where the photographer was, how much freedom of movement he had, even, to an extent, how tall he is. To a lesser extent we can deduce what interests him, at least by way of subject matter. And here is where the fun starts. Of course some subjects, and the photographers' treatment of them, are more revealing than others. It is hard to get inside a photographers' head looking at still-life close-ups of flowers (a notable exception being the output of Mapplethorpe, of course - using a young man's bottom as a vase for a lily is a bit of a dead giveaway as to the inner workings of the image-taker).

People shots provide the best material, in my experience. Preferably of the candid, unposed variety. They give us two shots at the photographer's psyche. Firstly in his treatment of his subjects - is he sympathetic (think Doisneau) or aggressive (think Wingogrand) or disdainful (think Parr)? Does he empathise wih his subjects, or treat them as objects? Does he engage, or observe? Secondly is his subjects reaction to being photographed. Are they aware or unaware? If the former, what is their reaction? The way they react - the way they look - can speak volumes as to their feeling about the lens and more significantly the man behind it. Do they feel threatened or flattered? Are they relaxed or tense? Or resentful?

The photographer's "use" of people in a shot is also quite telling. Are they the subject, or an afterthought? Do they form part of a cohesive composition or do they appear uncomfortably out of place? There's no right or wrong here - only the chance to tap into the man (or woman) behind the lens.

It's a powerful tool, that transcends intent and reaches into the subconscious.

Consider this image:

...or this one:

...or indeed this:

I took them all, within a six week period, along with others that are similar in tone and theme. When I took them, in my mind, I was simply experimenting. The open door or portal motif that features in each one, together with the solitary but unrecognisable figure in the middle distance evolved rather than my setting up each shot.

Months after I took, and displayed them, mixed in with other shots, another photographer made the connection and linked them together in his mind and through his perceptive comments, in my own. He said that, to him at least, the images spoke of isolation, of alienation and of a journey, or a rite of passage - through the portal to somewhere else. At the time I was in a period of transition in my life and many of the themes that he felt came to him through the images were exactly in tune with my feelings at the time.

Once I realised this, I looked again at images I had captured at various times in my life, and "linked" them to how I was feeling at the time. The images took on a new and very personal dimension as I realised that the lens was not just pointing at the subject, but was also focussing on me.

It doesn't always work. If you go out, for example, to shoot a simple subject- vintage cars at a show, for instance, there is little of you to be "seen" in the resulting images. People shots are best, as I have already opined, and particularly "street" photography, like the shots above; you are more "in the zone" when taking shots like this. The "higher brain" is bypassed, and the "monkey brain" - that primative sub-cortex that has been with us since trees were desirable residences - takes over the shutter button.

Don't take my word for it - give it a try... you may learn something about yourself.

Bill

--o-O-o--

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.
- I'm just a bloke with a blog who takes pictures... if you disagree with any of what I write that's fine by me.

It's not a team sport, is it?

It never fails to amaze me when I see those advertisements for photo holidays. Go off to some gorgeous location with all your kit and learn from some Jedi Master the art of landscape photography in the company of a dozen total strangers. Perhaps it's me, but I can think of nothing less likely to put me into the zone, at one with my surroundings and the scene before me, than a tripod turf fight with some chap wielding a Canon and a bobble hat.

It's not snobbery - it's a genuine, heartfelt belief that photography is, for the most part, a solitary pastime. I don't mean the "we're-having-a-great-time-on-holiday-go-on-take-a-picture" type of photography - I mean the "I'm-out-to-capture-something-special" stuff.

Now, any photographer who comes as one of a pair, or part of a family, is well aware that he cannot just put himself into the zone and snap away oblivious of the partner beside him or the pushchair in front. He has duties, obligations and responsibilities. He must curb his creative streak until he has the opportunity to focus, in both senses of the word, without irritating anyone else.

When I've been on a trip with a wife or partner, I have always patiently explained that, yes, I love you, yes, I would rather still be in bed, no, I don't need you to come with me, no, I won't be long, yes, I'll be careful as I head out of the hotel room at 7:30AM to capture city X as it wakes up. I have subsequently gone on to explain that no, I am not religious, but cathedrals are very photogenic, and yes I really do need to sit this way around at the pavement cafe so that I can snap the world going by, because people with shopping bags are interesting.

When I've been alone, I have walked around for as long as I have wanted, I have stopped where I want, for as long as I want, and I have not had to explain a single one of my actions. I have pondered angles of view, and lens choices, and "worked" a scene for minutes on end until I have achieved the result I wanted. Nobody to hurry me, none of that silent prickling at the back of my neck because she has walked on 50 yards and I haven't... yet...

Loved-up or lonely? You decide...

Now, I bet you are expecting me now to offer some great insight as to which is "better" - solitary snapping or partnered photography. Well, I've looked at my outputs from periods of my life when I have been in one state or the other and I can honestly say it isn't quite that simple. Generally, my output is more colourful, more, dare I say - cheerful - when I am loved up. When I'm on my own, I tend to take bleaker, but more "complex" images. Do my outputs reflect my state of mind, and the amount of metal on the third finger of my left hand? Probably. Which would I rather be?

Happy.

Wouldn't you?

Of course there is a happy medium, and it is up to you to strike it. Finding a partner who understands your need to not be dragged over to look in the shoe shop window just as you see the perfect street drama unfolding before you is a photographic skill not to be underestimated. Better yet, find one that shares your interest without crowding you and you have it made.

Hold on - perhaps I have got those photographic holidays all wrong... perhaps they are actually hotbeds of coupling and steamy, no-holds-barred monopod-munching as libidinously lusty lens-wielding Leicaphiles get it on with buxom Olympians in the certain knowledge that they have met their soul mates and can double-expose together in perfect harmony for years to come...

The mind boggles...

Bill

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- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission
- What was the best thing before sliced bread?

As if...

I went out today and shot a couple of rolls of film. Nothing special, just street shots. People going about their daily lives, in public. I didn't get arrested this time, but since the Anti-Terrorism (Enhanced Powers) Act of 2011 I know that I, and others like me, are on borrowed time.

*steps out of time machine*

Scary thought, isn't it? being treated like a criminal for doing something harmless.

Thing is, it's happening today. Tourists being told to delete their photos of bus stations, parents being told that they can't take photos of their own children in public, photojournalists being held without charge for doing their jobs, and of course it is now "illegal" to photograph a policeman in the performance of his duties.

Where did it all go wrong?

As usual, there is no one answer. The horror of 9/11 and the resultant increase in vigilance against terrorism is one contributory factor. The public paranoia about paedophilia is another. A third is the spread of sites such as Flickr, Facebook and MySpace - the fear these days is not just that your photo will be taken but that it will be posted on the internet.

So what?

In the UK at least:

• You do not have copyright in your own image.
• You do not have a right to privacy in a public place.

It's as simple as that.

Don't get me wrong - there is an etiquette to these things. I detest the working style of someone like Wingogrand, for example, who dehumanises his subjects with an in-yer-face approach and a blast of flash. How many frightened rabbits does he want to catch, I wonder? You must have respect for your subjects. That does not necessarily mean asking everyone in a street cafe if you can take their picture, but it does mean that you do not disturb them by your actions. You can achieve this in one of two ways - discretion, and permission - either works, depending on the circumstances; there is no right or wrong answer on this one.

Thing is, the photographer is an easy target - mooching around, laden down with apparatus, "acting suspiciously". The Police Community Support Officer, or PCSO appears particularly partial to a bit of hassling - at least, most of the recent complaints have involved a PCSO rather than a "real" copper. I suppose that it is easier to pick on a middle-aged bloke with a big gadget bag than the group of half a dozen hoodies across the road...

If challenged, by a member of the public or a member of the public in a stab vest (a PCSO) always stay calm. Explain what you are doing and why. Remember that attitude goes a long way to determining outcome, so if you come across as friendly and open, this will often defuse any hostility. If you are being threatened by a member of the public remove yourself from the situation if you can and/or call the police. If you are being detained by a PCSO or police officer, make sure you make a note of badge numbers and their stated reason for stopping you. Remember that a PCSO has no right to know your name, and can only detain you for 30 minutes or until a proper police officer arrives. Above all, remember that nobody has the right to confiscate your equipment, memory cards or film, and nobody has the right to ask - or force - you to delete or destroy your images.

Finally, not all PCSOs are part of the problem - this cheery pair were content to pose for me in central London not that long ago - after I had chatted to them of course...

--o-O-o--

Bill

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission
- You know you are getting older when your kids tell you the police are looking younger

Less is more

It strikes me as I get older that I am carrying less and less by way of camera kit when I go out. Of course when I were a lad I thought nothing of swinging a dirty great LowePro Magnum from one shoulder all day, laden with a couple of bodies, half a dozen lenses, flash, film, notebook, pen, cuddly toy, decanter and glasses, etc. I would yomp over hill and dale, and return home having burned a roll or three, mostly with a single lens and a single body.

There are still occasions to this day when I will go out loaded for bear. The most recent was a Sealed Knot event to which I took:

Digital SLRs - 1
Film SLRs - 1
Digital Compacts - 1
Thumping great fast tele zoom - 1
Almost equally heavy fast standard zoom - 1
50mm lens - 1
1.4x teleconverter - 1
Monopod - 1

Total focal length covered - 24- 560mm


I used the lot, one way and another, although the long setup got the most use because the action was so far away (Did you know that a pike is 16ft long? The crowd is kept at least that far back, just in case one topples...)


For those (k)not in the know, by the way, the Sealed Knot is a bunch of English Civil War re-enactors. They take it all frighteningly seriously, and seem to have a thoroughly good time along the way.

But I digress...

These days my preference is to carry something like a D-Lux 4 or a Leica II, that fits in a pocket or small bag, and can be carried all day, even at my ever-advancing years, without feeling it. The practical aspect is obvious - and my chiropractor approves.

But there is another force at work. Because I carry less, I work harder, look harder. Because I look harder I see more. Because I see more, my hit rate has increased. Oh, not by much, but by enough to notice. The shotgun has been replaced by the target pistol, the bludgeon by the rapier.

Have you ever watched one of those chop-socky movies where the baddie whirls around like a manic Magimix for a few moments then the hero fells him with a single, languid move? That's the effect I'm aiming for.

I'd rather be old and cunning than young and random, anyday.

Bill

--o-O-o--

- All views expressed are my own, even the interesting ones
- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission
- Marmite and malt-loaf do not mix

The Indecisive Moment

In the world of photography, there are some names that stand head and shoulders above the rest. Capa, McCullin, Parkinson, Karsh, Atget, Salgado... Asked to name ten famous photographers any snapper worth their developer will be able to do so without batting an eyelid. The list will vary from person to person, mirroring their likes and dislikes. Ansel Adams is famous, for instance, but I find his images - and his writing - as interesting as watching yogurt ferment and he would not feature on mine.

If I were a betting man, I would say that the name that would appear most frequently is Henri Cartier-Bresson. There is a whole lot of myth and malarky around the tall, well-heeled Frenchman who "invented" the Decisive Moment. Did he or didn't he crop? Did he or didn't he only use a 50mm lens? Some "get" his work, others find it trite, but there is no doubting his impact. I'll wager that any given weekend worldwide hundreds of thousands of photographers go out with one aim in view - to capture their very own Decisive Moment on film (or SD card if that is what floats your boat). There are many more who, once the shutter is pressed, look at the results with the quiet satisfaction of having "nailed it" - there in their hand is their very own slice of time.

But what is that moment, and what makes it decisive? Is there a purity to being in just the right place at the right time - a nobility of spirit and purpose that comes together at the split second of pressing the shutter? Or is that bollocks? Which is nobler? The chap walking around with a screwmount Leica - older than he is, and carrying the patina of tens of years of use, relying on his reflexes to capture the peak of the action - or the man with the state of the art DSLR complete with movie mode, who hoses the action and later, in the privacy of his own lightroom, slices the best image from a hundred thousand others?

Does it matter?

The two approaches are poles apart. The two hypothetical individuals have as much in common as a pikeman and a machine gunner. But they are both after the end result. Both can achieve that result - does the means matter, or just the end?

I'll put my stake firmly in the ground - I'd rather be carrying the Barnack than the bazooka. Part of the pleasure for me comes from achieving more with less. The sense of achievement that comes from getting that shot, knowing that I have captured it through my own reflexes, hand to eye co-ordination and vision, rather than setting a course on the bridge of the starship Canon is part of the pleasure.

Consider this shot. I took it as an entry for a competition. The theme was "The Decisive Moment". I went out with a Barnack Leica with a single aim in view - to capture that elusive slice of time. I came across this street entertainer and burned a roll of film on his antics.

As I worked I repositioned myself to get the best background, and the best view of the action. As I realised what he was planning to do - to throw his hat from his foot and catch it on his head - the statue to the left of the shot suddenly became important - as much a part of the composition as the street performer himself.

It took him three goes to get the hat from foot to head - therefore I had three "decisive moments" to choose from. This is the second of his - our - three attempts, and the only one in which all the elements - for both him and me - came together.

You don't always get time to prepare.

You don't always get a second chance.

...or a third.

Is this a "Decisive Moment"? Enough others thought so for me to win the competition. Was I proud of it? Yes, for I had captured the image with just my reflexes and a basic camera. Could I have taken the same shot with a DSLR? Of course I could. But it would not have been so satisfying. Did I cheat? Ah - there's the question. By having a number of attempts to "practice" on, you could argue that hitting the sweet spot was that much easier for me. Practice makes perfect, after all. No. I don't think I cheated. I still had to get it right, and on another day I may have just produced something worthy of the bin.

I don't want to be HCB.

But it's nice when it all comes together.

Bill

--o-O-o--

You can see a larger version of this image here: Decisive Moment

D-Lux 4 and Beyond....

I'll start this blog with a review. Please don't think that this is going to just be another review microsite - oh no... I intend to cover a range of subjects in future, that will all have one thing in common - they interest me. But I have been meaning to publish my thoughts on this for some time, and there is no time like the present.

--o-0-o--

I have had a Leica D-Lux 4 since Christmas (2008) and very happy with it I am too. It follows both the Panasonic FX-1 and FX-2 as my carry-around digital and improves significantly on both in terms of image quality and handling. Since I have large hands I have added the Leica Grip to the base of my D-Lux - something you cannot do with the Panasonic FX-3 and a boon to handling. Combined with a simple wrist-strap (in my case an old Olympus one) it enables secure and stable one-handed operation.

D-Lux 4 with Leica Grip:

Now, I am not an accessoriser by nature, or just for the sake of it - I seldom wear a tie these days. But the ability of the D-Lux 4 to take an an adaptor ring on the front, which in turn allows the mounting of tele- and wideangle converters adds to it's flexibility. The trade off of having a wider, faster (24-60mm f2.0) lens than it's predecessors is that it runs out of reach at the top end. so far I have got around this by the simple expedient of carrying another camera - in my case a Canon G7 with the RAW hack. This has some advantages - not least being a general backup - but there are times when I would like to just carry one camera, one lens and work in a simple and uncluttered manner.

My first buy was an adaptor. The Pandabase LA-PLX3 to be exact.


This is a well-made, black anodised tube, with a 46mm female thread on one (the camera) end and a 52mm female thread on the other. It is provided with a robust 52mm snap-cap and a cap-keeper thread. I quickly dispensed with that last - I hate such things and would rather buy a new cap than have it flap around when I am trying to shoot. It is fitted to the D-Lux-4 by removing the black ring on the front around the lens then screwing it to the threads thus revealed.

Once fitted, the Pandabase adaptor is secure and solid, and provides a decent grip for two-handed shooting. In fact, this setup together with the grip makes the D-Lux 4 feel much more like a larger and more substantial camera. The adaptor alone provides other benefits too - it protects the lens once extended from accidental knocks, and at the 60mm end acts as an effective lens shade. I have added to the front a 52mm sky filter for added protection from dust and grimy fingers.


When not in use the Pandabase adaptor, together with a 46mm snap-cap forms a suitable home for my Leitz SBOOI 50mm viewfinder. This viewfinder approximates the field of view of the 60mm lens very well, and is a real boon to anyone who wants to use the camera at full-tele in bright sunny conditions, or simply not rely on the rear display to compose.

So. As already mentioned, the one real drawback of the D-Lux 4 is that it runs out of steam at the tele- end. There are a number of "teleconverters" available through eBay and the like, so I decided to spend the princely sum of nineteen pounds to get hold of one.


The Fujiyama 2.5x Teleconverter is a substantial item, weighing roughly as much as the D-Lux alone. It comes with a rear screw cap,a front push-on cap and a faux suede pouch. It appears well-made and mounts readily to the front of the Pandabase adaptor, adding significantly to the bulk and heft of the camera. By it's nature it is totally useless at the wideangle end, vignetting to the point of providing an interesting circular image.


It is clearly designed only to be used at 60mm, giving, in theory, a 150mm tele equivalent.


Where the wheels come off the wagon is in the results that this combination delivers. Welcome to my "test rose" in my back garden. I'd like to tell you that I have grown it specifically for this purpose but I would be lying like a cheap Swiss watch if I did. Suffice to say that it kept still long enough to be a subject for this test. I altered the camera to subject difference to keep the bloom approximately the same size in each image. No Photoshop changes have been made.

Without teleconverter:

With teleconverter:

100% crop without teleconverter:

100% crop with teleconverter:


Now, I freely admit that I am not a professional reviewer, but I think the results speak for themselves. In a simple test (I have only reproduced one set of results here, for the sake of space and brevity) - believe me the results were consistent - the Fujiyama degrades the image noticably. Apart from a touch of fuzziness there is a colour shift that may or may not show up on your monitor, but is clearly present.

Conclusion - reluctantly - is that, in very simple terms, you gets what you pays for. If you put a £19.00 adaptor on the front of a £600.00 camera you will get £19.00 worth of results. In other words, avoid. There may well be better teleconverters out there - in fact I dont doubt that there are - but this is a lemon of the first order, not even fit for use in a jug of cheap sangria. I'll continue to use the Pandabase adaptor - a simple, elegant and effective add-on that earns it's keep- but for now at least if I want more reach I'll continue to carry a second body.

Bill

--o-0-o--

Notes:

This review has been updated on the 11th June with new test shots.

All images shot on D-Lux 4 with add-on equipment as specified.

No D-Lux 4s were harmed in the making of this review.

To see larger versions of all these images and others please visit: Review Images

All images are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any form without permission.