Thinking past the end of your lens

We all do it.

Get our priorities skewed, I mean. If you read any of the multitude of internet fora devoted to the subject of photography, they are all about the kit, not the image. People who get all bent out of shape debating the relative merits of a concave vs a convex screw-in soft release button tend to forget that they first started "getting serious" about photography not because of the sexy high tech equipment, but because of the desire to take better photos.

But techno-lust is insidious. It is all too easy to jump on the treadmill of technological advance in the (mistaken) belief that buying a better camera will result in better images. It won't. How many of us actually test our existing equipment (and ourselves) to the limits? Far too many of us walk around with a neckful of exotic glass that we can never do justice to, because our skills and expertise are just too limited.

Go on.

Admit it.

There, doesn't that feel better?

Since the advent of the digital age, the treadmill has moved faster than ever. Product cycles that used to be measured in lustrua now make the average mayfly look like Methuselah. That, combined with the ability to machine gun your subject at minimal cost then choose the "best" (ie least worst) slices from the salami of studied mediocrity is turning more than a few amateurs from being an average photographer to a poor editor.

But.

There are cheaper ways to improve your photography, both in terms of quality and personal satisfaction. Look at it this way; which is more gratifying - to sit there at your pc after the event and spot your favourite "image capture" from in amongst the myriad of infinitesimally different shots? Or is it to behave more like a sniper - wait, watch, plan, anticipate, and squeeze the shutter release at just the right moment?

The (galloping) gourmand approach to photography is all about quantity, in the fond but sadly mistaken belief that quantity has a quality all of it's own. The gourmet approach, on the other hand, is about using the finest ingredients - camera, lens, film, location, subject, timing, skill - to conjure something that captures only the most fleeting of instants, but that has the power to linger in the mind for years to come.

The key to this, I believe, is for the photographer to think ahead, and to visualise the world beyond the end of their lens hood before they even rest a finger on the shutter release. It doesn't mean that all life becomes still life - far from it - but training the mind and the eye to see shots before they are taken - before the decisive moment occurs - is a deeply satisfying experience.

(Apologies for a moment to my overseas readers - this analogy won't mean much to you, but it is the best I can think of)

Think for a moment of the Channel 4 station idents that are often broadcast before a programme starts. A selection of disparate items - buildings, cranes, etc - physically far removed from each other, are brought into juxtaposition for a moment by a change of viewpoint. For a split second the Channel 4 logo is formed, then gone again.

As in "art" so in life - watch any crowd of people; they are constantly on the move. But there are usually discernible and ultimately predictable patterns to their movement - eddies, swirls, caused by the physical strictures of the environment, by the time of day, by the announcement of the next train to Portsmouth. By tuning in on the movement, going with the flow, the photographer can capture moments of juxtaposition as they occur, because they have seen them coming. This is not some Nostradamus-like precognition at work, but just the application of observation coupled with commonsense.

In the natural world too, the same applies. Identifying just when an otherwise drab and meaningless scene will turn into an eye catching image through the play of light requires exactly the same sort of previsualisation skills as street photography. As the old gag goes, "Timing is the essence of good comedy" - it's also the attribute that, once mastered, sorts the photographers from the snappers.

Bald bod and balloon - coincidence? You decide...


So, in a nutshell you already own the most valuable and important piece of equipment that will improve your photography. It's right there, between your ears, and has been all your life. Just like the camera in your hands, you have never used it to it's full potential.

It's never too late to start...


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.

Early adopting for beginners

The Leica - indeed the high-end amateur and professional photographic - world was set alight just over a week ago with the introduction - not just announcement, mark you, but actual, bodies-flying-off-shelves introduction - of the full-frame M9 digital rangefinder camera.

Leica conducted a masterful guerrilla marketing campaign which mixed absolutely watertight secrecy with the odd accidental leak so viral it made the Black Death look like the work of an amateur. The eager faithful were tantalised and teased with details, images, flashes of websites, word leaking out from impatient (and imprudent) dealers. In the meantime the trusted few were wandering around with M9s slung around their necks disguised as M8s.

I have always been clear in my personal dislike of the M8. I thought it was a remarkable achievement for a small company to bring to market a digital rangefinder given the technological challenges; "ye cannae fight the laws of physics" as a famous Scotsman will say in 200 years or so. But the M8 was flawed; the problems with sensor, rangefinder and other aspects of the design all pointed toward something that was brought together in a rush and held together by inspiration, genius and hope. Mark Norton famously dissected one to show how it was made and what it was made from - not a pretty sight. The M8 also attracted to the Leica brand culture a whole new user demographic, many of whom had never used a film Leica and for whom the M8 represented their first exposure to the world of the rangefinder. They brought with them different attitudes, different expectations. They looked on the M8 not as the latest evolution in a long line of excellent cameras but as a computer with a lens on the front that would boot up first time, every time. The MTV generation met the M rangefinder with a bang...

Leica learned a huge amount from the M8, not just in terms of the product itself, but also the need to handle the digital rangefinder user base in a very different fashion. You don't have to go back too many years to the days when nobody knew what problems anybody else was having with their camera; all communication was "hub and spoke" - a one to one relationship between user and manufacturer. In today's internet-savvy world companies such as Leica constantly find themselves in the dock of "public opinion" where a few verbose and opinionated individuals can make their voices heard out of all proportion to the significance of what they have to say.

That is not to say that openness is wrong; Leica have the benefit of being able to look into a strong and vibrant user forum that is for the most part populated with intelligent and experienced people. Sensible requests and suggestions are given the weight of popular support and no doubt have an influence on thinking in Solms. I am sure that, like most, they can tune out the sometimes high signal to noise ratio and ignore the trolls and armchair CEOs that appear to be attracted to the brand like flies to fresh shit.

The early adopter of the title is a particularly important component part of the Leica (indeed of any) community. They are those who will not - do not - cannot - wait for somebody else to form and communicate an opinion. They are those who long to be the first kid on the block with the new "toy". Sometimes it is purely and simply about bragging rights - "I have enough money to buy this expensive camera without batting an eyelid"; sometimes it is out of genuine curiosity, or pent-up demand, sometimes an altruistic desire to find out, and share the experience with others. Two weeks down the line it looks like Leica, in the M9, have a real hit on their hands. There has yet to be any shock-horror revelation such as the need for UV/IR filters that so crippled the M8, and long may that be the case. The M9 is a far more serious proposition than the M8 - a finished product brought to market when it is ready. The early teething problems appear more concerned with firmware and third party editing software than with fundamental optical or hardware issues.

So what of the early adopters of yesterday? Those hardy souls who dropped coin on the M8 and who lived with, and through, its spotty adolescence. They seem to have divided into three camps. Those who are (rightly) content with their M8s and M8.2s - they have a mature product that produces images as well as it did the day before the M9 was announced. They are happy with what they have and see no reason to change. In that they find themselves much like the film Leica users when the M8 first arrived who were not swayed by the lure of digital. Then there are the serial early adopters - those who live their entire lives on the bleeding edge. They have resigned their previously "perfect" M8s to the bottom of the camera bag or to the hands of a dealer in order that they can embrace the new best thing in the world.

Bless 'em. Patience is as alien to them as stilettos on a bullfrog. They probably stand at home in front of the microwave shouting "hurry!"

The third group is those who have an M8 but would really like to be over there with the cool kids fondling a new M9. Some will extol the virtues of what they have, but a small and vocal minority will rubbish the new product, either by querying the need for it, or by saying that they will wait for the M10. They will damn the product and the company with faint praise, while at the same time muttering darkly under their breath. They feel, bizarrely that they are no longer "in the mainstream" and they resent it.

The M2... Did M3 owners gnash their teeth when it came out, I wonder...?

Finally, we really ought to spare a thought for the trailing-edgers - those who bought into the outgoing product just as the new one hit the streets. The adults among them will shrug and accept the situation - they bought the M8 recently because they could finally afford it, or because they felt that the time was right. They have no right to feel aggrieved because the M9 has arrived - but some do. There are actually people out there who are angry with Leica for bringing out a new product without warning...

...I'm glad I don't live in their world...

For me, I held off from the M8 for all sorts of good reasons. At times I have been made to feel like the man at the party who says that he doesn't like football - there must be something odd about him - he doesn't "get it". The M9 - full frame, no UV/IR filters, robust and well-thought through - is the digital rangefinder that I have been waiting for and as soon as someone hits the "Buy It Now" button on my Granny on eBay I shall be in the queue at my local dealer...

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.