Rapid weight loss...

Back from sunny Malta, I've been thinking...

I am struck by the recent rapid growth in the availability of "good things in small packages". Hot on the heels of Four-Thirds - itself a move in the small direction - Olympus and Panasonic have forged ahead with Micro Four-Thirds, and Sigma and Leica have gone down the large-sensor-small-body route to give big camera performance in a smaller body. Even "ordinary" high-end digital compacts with small sensors such as the G-11, D-Lux 4 et al offer a "power to weight" ratio that would have been unthinkable just 24 months ago. The photographer no longer needs to carry a large "pro-spec" camera everywhere to guarantee a decent image.

History repeats itself, of course. The digital size/quality ratio improvement is just following the same trajectory as that of film many years ago.

But why?

What drives the urge to miniaturise? Is there truly a demand, or is it a vanity development on behalf of the manufacturers? Portability is a very strong argument, of course, and something that I have written about in the past. The smaller, lighter and more compact your camera the more likely you are to have it with you when you need it. That's a simple equation. But I think that there are other forces - dark forces - at work.

Ever since 9/11, passenger air travel has become a trial of patience and a challenge to the traveller's ingenuity. Ever tighter security restrictions have not just reduced the amount of hand baggage but altered it's very composition. Changes in airline pricing structure, encouraging hand-baggage only by imposing a premium on hold baggage has squeezed from the other direction. The travelling photographer wanting to cover all eventualities on a long weekend city break has to fit everything he needs in a bag measuring 56x45x25 centimetres. Being slightly oversized is not an option, unless you want to run the risk of having your bag taken off you at the departures gate and shoved in the hold - don't even try to argue with the gate staff...

All this is old news for the Leica M and LTM user, of course. They have long enjoyed the advantages of a high quality, compact camera system. With the advent of digital, the need to pack multiple rolls of film has been largely circumvented (only to be replaced by the necessary chargers, spare batteries, spare memory cards and a backup storage device, of course...).

All you need? Not quite - yet...


I recently travelled to Malta for a long weekend. Beyond the clothes on my back, everything else, including three cameras, fitted in a Tamrac photo backpack. I recommend the type with the built-in laptop compartment, by the way - it's great for "flatpack" items such as shirts and trousers. Once "in theatre", everything "domestic" can be unpacked and left in your hotel, and your "luggage" becomes an ideal daypack while exploring. I'll do the same when I go to Budapest later this year. I couldn't have dreamed of doing that a few years ago, when I carried a big SLR with matching lenses - that WAS my hand-baggage. I might have fitted a spare pair of socks in the bag besides, but only if I used them as lens pouches. But the encouragement to travel light is powerful, and now we have the high quality compact camera equipment to match.

Compactness is no substitute for planning ahead though - don't for a moment think it is. I have never forgotten traveling all the way to Hawaii and finding myself with no more than a 135mm lens while trying to shoot a pod of whales from a catamaran. I did the best I could, but I was "outgunned" by those who had lugged something a little longer. Not a single decent shot that day, because I hadn't planned. Lesson learned. Now I think about what to take, and squeeze in a longer lens if absolutely necessary.

For the most part though, a decent kit these days takes up little more room than a pair of shoes (alright, I have large feet) and takes far better pictures.

So there we have it. Darwinian evolution is at work. The days of the bulky (D)SLR for travel snaps are numbered, thanks to the cold hand of Al Qaeda. Think of that the next time you heft your camera to your eye...

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.
- More imagery at: Lightmancer

There can be only One (Challenge)...

Now.

By the time you read this I shall be in sunny Malta, for this year's One Challenge. This was a competition wot I invented six years ago exclusively for the users of Leica cameras that frequent the Leica User Forum. That first year, twelve die-hard souls met up in the Chandos pub in St Martins' Lane, London, on a dank and dreary December day. Some lunch and convivial chat followed, then everyone made their way out into the gathering gloom to shoot 36 exposures in one hour, with one camera, one lens, one ISO, one focal length and one aim in view - to capture the essence of the place.

How far we have travelled since that first gathering - literally. Subsequent One Challenges have taken place in Amsterdam, Paris, Berlin, Krakow and now Valetta. The shooting time is now two hours, but the other rules have remained the same; short, simple and truly challenging. Amateurs and pros alike are tested by the rules, by the strange surroundings and by the time constraint. It is not as easy as it sounds to capture the essence of a whole city in such a short space of time. After the event, the entrant has to select one of their thirty-six shots to put up for the public vote - the most nerve-wracking part of the whole thing. We have had some close-run voting in the past, but the winner has invariably been more than worthy.

It's not about the money, either. The "entry fee" has stood at ten Euros for the past six years. That forms the "pot" - winner takes all. Nobody is going to get rich winning The One, but they will have the satisfaction of knowing that their carefully captured and selected shot has won them the acclaim of their peers. On a number of occasions, the prize money has been donated to charity by the winner - a grand gesture that is in keeping with the spirit of Leica.

The One Challenge was always meant to be as much about the opportunity to socialise as about the competition. In recent years that too has evolved from a quick pint at the pub to drinks the evening before, lunch immediately before, dinner the evening after... it's a never-ending social whirl! It's great to meet up with old friends each year, and to put faces to new names. Long-suffering partners come along too, and make the evening dinner far less Leica-focussed - thank goodness!

The One Challenge has also spawned it's own offspring - The Uno Challenge in Los Angeles, and other spin-offs worldwide. It has been featured in the LFI, and has attracted sponsorship in the form of prizes from Leica and this year from Red Dot Cameras in London. Ivor, the owner has very kindly donated a D-Lux 4 to this year's winner - a tremendous prize and one well worth going the extra mile to win.

So. The One Challenge is now a healthy, active 6-year old, that shows no sign of slowing down. When we meet this year, we will discuss where to go in 2010 - that's half the fun of it. My thanks to the organisers, both for this year and past years, who took up the original mantle and have helped The One to be the fun event it is today.

Yes, I am proud of The One Challenge, but most of all I am proud of my third placing in 2007 - the best I have done so far!

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.
- More imagery at: Lightmancer

Snob value...?

If I had a Pound (or a Euro, or a Dollar, etc.) for every terabyte of server space devoted to the subject of snobbery - particularly pertaining to photo equipment - I would almost have enough to afford an M9. I mention the M9 because as a brand Leica seems to attract more snobbery - both real and inverted - than any other brand of equipment with a lens on the front.

One of those ghastly on-line dictionaries - you know, the ones that claim that "lense" is a word - defines snobbery as "...the trait of condescending to those of lower social status". In this context "social status" is defined not by birth but by financial clout. There is no such thing as a "cheap" Leica; even second-hand they command a premium over comparable equipment - assuming that anything comparable exists, which is frequently not the case anyway.

So why are Leicas so expensive? And why do people with more money than sense buy them? Finally, why does Leica ownership inspire such envy in others?

To understand this phenomenon we have to understand the unique place that the Leica camera holds in both history and mythology. Long ago, it ceased to be just a picture-taking machine. It became a lifestyle choice, before the term was even invented. When Leitz Camera introduced the Luxus in the 1930s it set the tone for years to come. Never let anyone tell you that the Leica was a professionals' camera that has been adopted by well-heeled amateurs - the well-heeled amateurs got there first, at the time the professionals were still using bulky full- half- and quarter-plate folders and 120 rollfilm and looking down their noses at the new-fangled "miniature" format as inadequate for serious use.

It didn't take long, however, for canny pros to realise that those pesky amateurs were on to something worthwhile; the light and compact Leica and its contemporaries taking 35mm film loads were turning up all over the place and producing publishable results. From the Arctic to the Antarctic, from the gondola of a Zeppelin to the pyramids of Egypt, the world was being viewed through a small viewfinder and captured through an Elmar.

The Leica was never cheap. It was hand-made with quality materials and for years represented the acme of German manufacturing ingenuity. Have a look at a Leitz product catalogue from 80 years ago and you can see that the camera itself was just at the tip of an ever-increasing iceberg of accessories and attachments, each identified by its' own five-letter designation - LYCAN, FODOR, FODIS, VALOY and of course my all time favourite, NOOKY. The complexity of the system of course appealed to the boy within the man - it's the same thing you see today with modern gadgets - iphones, bluetooth headphones, GPS keyrings, Nespresso coffee makers - boy toys one and all. The Gnomes of Solms (well, the Gnomes of Wetzlar at that time) were quick to realise that the acquisition of the kit was as important to the experience as the end result.

Fast forward to today; Leica is no longer at the bleeding edge of camera design; instead the company and its' products occupy a niche that was until recently almost unassailable - the cost of entry is prohibitive to all but the most resourceful - or obsessed. Nikon, Canon, Olympus and the rest have left Leica to it, abandoning the rangefinder as the SLR moved into the ascendant. And with a few notable exceptions - Voigtlander, Epson, Contax, Zeiss, Rollei (has anyone actually SEEN a Rollei m-mount rangefinder?) that is the way it has largely stayed. Only with the advent of micro four-thirds has there been a resurgence of the non-SLR "serious" camera as - belatedly - the big boys have realised once again that there is a market for small, high quality interchangeable lens system cameras.

Snobbery abounds there too, though. When Panasonic announced the GF-1 interchangeable lens micro four-thirds camera it took about 24 hours before it was being derided on the internet as the "GirlFriend-1" - a camera that no "serious" photographer would be seen dead with. This is of course bollocks, but sadly is a school of thought to be found almost exclusively among middle-aged men with more money than sense.

...and there is the crux of the problem. Like many quality items in this world - expensive sports-cars, high-end watches, bespoke tailoring - Leica ownership is not a young man's game. Forking out the thick end of £5000 for a camera body is not something that the average thirtysomething trying to bring up a young family is going to regard as a high priority.

Snobbery - or is it passive aggressive racism? also surfaces in the form of the perennial "Where is it made?" question. To some, it is not a Leica if it isn't made in Germany. Leitz Midland in Canada and the Portuguese facility are dismissed as not quite good enough, and heaven help a lens made under licence in Japan! The highest opprobrium is reserved, however, for the products of the partnership with Panasonic. Derided as "Panaleicas", they are regarded as the bastard spawn of a desperate marketing manager's wet dream. The reality - that they are built in close co-operation to a high standard, that they bring in a newer, younger clientele that would otherwise never go near Leica, and the fact that they provide an "on-ramp" for new customers who graduate to the more expensive products - is conveniently ignored. This has reached new heights with the recent announcement of the X1 - the very thought that a Japanese company may have had a hand in its' manufacture sends some into a fit of the vapours.

Lastly, we have the "It's good but it's not a Leica" snobbery that is displayed at the sight of a non-Leica lens mounted to a Leica body. Cosina Voigtlander (CV) and Zeiss have brought to market some groundbreaking lenses in recent years. They may not be the match of the equivalent Leica glass, but more often than not they are not specifically designed to go toe-to-toe with Solms' finest. Until very recently, there was no overlap at all between the CV and Leica lens ranges. Either focal length, aperture or both varied. To this day Leica still do not offer a 12mm lens, for example, or a 40mm 1.4, both of which CV introduced. Above all, CV revitalised the screw-mount ("LTM" or "Barnack") market with a slew of new lenses, offering modern glass in the classic mount and bringing a new lease of life to the older bodies alongside their own offerings. Lenses should be regarded as a palette, or perhaps more accurately as a selection of brushes; each delivers a different result, in support of the photographer's vision. Sharpness may be a quantifiable absolute, but since when was photography about absolute technical perfection?

So.

There are Leica snobs - elitism is rife. But does that explain the bitchiness and envy that abounds? Every time Leica puts a foot wrong - or even dares to go quiet for a time - the nay-sayers and doom-mongers gather. Every time somebody dares to praise the company or its' products there are those who will crawl out of the woodwork to point out that somebody else does it better/cheaper/faster. Buyers are derided for spending so much money on something that is far more capable than they are.

It seems to me that, like Montblanc, Rolex, Porsche etc. Leica has fallen into the "lifestyle" niche - a discretionary purchase that says as much about the purchaser as it performs the task it is designed for. iPods are egalitarian - everyone has one and they are cheap and plentiful. Leicas are elitist because they are expensive and (relatively) rare.


Posh "porn" - Montblanc and Leica...

Ultimately, it doesn't matter. If you can afford it, buy it. Personally, I have a simple philosophy - "buy cheap, buy twice". I bought my M7 new back in 2002 when they were first introduced. Since then I have lost count of number of SLRs and DSLRs and compacts (with various innards) that have sat alongside it in my gadget bag. It has long since paid for itself, and will continue to do so for as long as I can get film to feed it. It has been joined in recent years by an M2 and a II - neither of them in the first flush of youth, but both capable of superlative photography for years to come.

Snobbery? No. Lifestyle choice? Maybe. Lifelong choice? Yes.

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.
- More imagery at: Lightmancer

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

--o-O-o--

- 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

--o-O-o--

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.

What should I take...

I have commented before about the phenomenon that sees ordinary, otherwise sensible people apparently turn into blathering, indecisive jellies when confronted with a keyboard, an internet connection and an audience on a photo forum. There is a particular variant of that malady that tends to manifest itself in the Summer months - the thread that starts "I'm going to [insert as applicable] and I can't decide whether to just take [insert interminably long list of equipment] or whether I should also take [insert equally long list of equipment] what do you think?"

Leaving aside the probability that:

a) The audience doesn't know a lot about the poster in terms of their tastes, skills etc.,

b) Most of said audience doesn't know anything material about the proposed holiday destination either,

c) The destination given ("Europe", "China", "South America"...) is so vague that no answer can be meaningful,

and

d) Most of said audience only ever give the same answer to any such query based upon their own tastes and preferences.

The quality and usefulness of response is going to be dubious at best and bloody useless at worst.

So why (oh why) do people persist in these ridiculous threads? There can be only one answer.

They're boasting.

Yes.

That's it. They are simply taking the opportunity for a spot of self-aggrandisement. In fact, the seemingly innocent "holiday question" is a great 2 for 1:

a) I am going somewhere special/expensive/hard to get to

b) I have lots of expensive kit

This last is a particularly modern form of hubris. In the ancient world, excessive pride was a crime. Crowing over one's peers, or indeed one's vanquished foes, was regarded as very bad form indeed, much as owning an f1 Noctilux today and openly musing as to the benefits of adding a f.0.95 Noctilux to your collection of humidity-controlled dust-gatherers is guaranteed to reduce any right-thinking fellow photographer (for which read "real photographer") to acts of mindless irritation. The "autosignature" is a particular refinement of this phoenomenon, enabling the poster to re-state their entire palette of toys with the press of a button. I do wonder at the mentality of those whose signature is both longer and more interesting than their posts, however.

The only form of this question that makes any real sense is "From your own direct experience, what is [location x] like?". Any photographer with half a brain can do their own online research these days; the likes of Flickr and Google Earth provide the opportunity to find out what others have done, and what a given location looks like. The old advice used to be to go to a newsagents on arrival and look at the postcards - now with the "global village" we can browse through others' snaps, tagged - geotagged, even - without leaving the comfort of our own armchairs.

What is invaluable is "local knowledge" - places to eat, to sit, where photography is encouraged, where it is frowned upon, where and how the scam artists operate, how to get around, where the best beer is to be found. All of the above come from personal experience. People who have been there, or even better, live there -in other words, those least likely to be impressed by your ability to travel there.


I chose the lens, body, aperture, shutter speed and destination all by myself...


I don't want or need someone to pick my kit for me. I don't want someone to oo and ah over my equipment - unless they are particularly attractive, of course - I don't need people to be impressed by my choice of destination, or by the size of my wallet. It's useful to know that the lighting in museum x is particularly low, or that the queues for art gallery y only get bad after 10AM, but telling me that I absolutely must take a wide-angle or I will miss some great shots is about as useful as a photograph of a rope to a drowning man.

No, I don't care how much you have spent on where you are going, or the money you have invested in what you might take, but if I've been there before, I'll gladly give you my opinion on the place - provided you aren't just boasting, of course...


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.

Great Photo! Great camera...?

We have all been there, at one time or another. It is usually absolutely genuinely meant. It may come from a friend, or a relative, or a total stranger. When you hear those words, though, it is like fingernails on a blackboard for the photographer concerned.

"What a lovely photo! You must have a very good camera..."

What on Earth is an appropriate answer?

"Indeed I have - my sole contribution to the creative process was buying it in the first place..."

"No, it's a cheap piece of crap, but I have the compositional skills of Raphael."

...or something in between?

over the years I have been as guilty as anyone of the typical English passive aggressive non-response in such circumstances - smile, shrug and back away while simultaneously listening to the little inner voice chanting "Blood, blood, blood"... Of course it's hard to be rude when a) someone genuinely thinks they are paying you a compliment and b) they are either elderly or attractive. The natural impulse to snap back is repressed - bad for the blood pressure, I know, but good for the inheritance/prospects of a good night out.

Of course in many cases it is true. It is hard to find a truly bad camera these days. Even the cheapest digi-compact can turn out a halfway decent result if handled right. However, I think it is worth exploring what triggers such a comment. Look at it from the point of view of the other person - your photo has moved them in some way. Why? What was it that drove them to say something? I think in many cases it comes down to what they are used to seeing, and the results that they feel they can produce themselves.

The photos that I find get a strong reaction are those that either have a strong motif, or a particular "look" - that might be a macro shot, or one dominated by a single strong colour, or a powerful monochrome image, or, particularly, one with very shallow depth of focus. That last fascinates me - and I think it is because it is simply not available to anyone using a cameraphone, small sensor digicam or slow-lensed film compact that it is so worthy of comment. It smacks the viewer in the eye, because it isn't the way they see the world, or have been able to capture it themselves.

Okay bokeh?


Do the particpants and professional practitioners of other pursuits have to put up with this, I wonder? Does Gordon Ramsay get told his meals are delicious because of his great pans, or does Elton John get complimented on his choice of piano? I think not. Maybe it is because everyone fancies that they can take a photo, but that you need a "better" camera than the one they have to take a "better" photo than they can.

We aren't going to change the world overnight, though. So what to do? Now I am more grumpy old, than angry young man, I have more of an inclination towards the "mission to inform" approach. I try - gently - to explain that yes, I do have a good camera, but that it does need me to carry it from place to place, aim it in the right direction, decide what settings to use, where to put the point of focus, etc. I try not to sound condescending, but instead try to build a rapport, and generate some genuine interest in how I have achieved an image worthy of their comment, and how they could do the same.

The key to this approach is the counter question - keep it in mind, chant it like a mantra, so that you are ready for the next time.

Ok?

Ready?

Here we go...

"What makes you think that?"

Try it - it works, and is far less likely to get you arrested than clobbering an old lady around the head with a Leica...

Bill

--o-O-o--

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