The Online Photographer

Clay Lewis (Music Notes)

"The secret of getting ahead is getting started."

—Mark Twain

A little plug from the TOP community: regular readers know Gordon Lewis, whose picture Precipitation (AKA "the umbrella woman)" was one of our best-selling prints.

Gordon's son Clay wrote and produced the song "Stranger" by the band Mice on Mercury, just out.

I'm only an old dad, but I think the song's a beauty. Its only problem is that it ends too soon. Check it out on the streaming or download service of your choice.

Nice going, especially for a 16-year-old. Big congratulations to Clay.

Cruel luck
Over the years I've known many creative people, and one underlying generality I've come to believe in is this. If you talk to anyone with an interest in anything creative—I even think this extends to other aspirational categories too—you'll hear some account of a setback of some sort that ended up causing the dream to fizzle. It can be something gentle or minor in absolute terms—a failure to capitalize on an early toehold, gains lost, a turn of bad luck, bad treatment from another individual or institution—loss of nerve, or a closed door—something like that.

Of course, it can be major, too, like my friend Kevin, the standout athlete at my small high school, who was a top college baseball player, got drafted into the majors, and then blew his knee out playing a casual game of pickup basketball a week before he was to report for training camp. A mutual friend notes that to this day—we're in our sixties now—any random stranger is likely to hear that story within fifteen minutes of first meeting Kevin.

That couldn't be helped. It wasn't Kevin's fault. Bad luck of the bitterest kind. He went on to make a good life for himself.

And in other cases it seems like the goal was wrong or the ability ran too thin or the Force just wasn't with the person somehow. Luck was too cruel. Or they didn't have enough flexibility to adapt or change. What all these stories have in common is that the circumstances of the setback are remembered. The person might not have a clear idea of what happened or why, but they'll tell you about that early bittersweet dream and how they brushed up to it so tantalizingly. They'll tell you about what happened and assign the blame as to why their careers sidestepped in a different direction. I've heard a detectable variation of that kind of story many, many dozens of times over many years, from all sorts of people. All perfectly understandable. And common, is what I'm saying.

Here's what I've noticed, though. It's that, in the biographies of many successful people, you'll often read of the exact same sorts of early discouragement—bad luck, bad treatment, opportunities lost, breakthroughs that weren't—whatever; but the successful person managed somehow to regroup, maybe reappraise, and move forward anyway.

The OG
For example, we were just talking yesterday about David Douglas Duncan (who, by the way, was once considered to be one of the three great brand ambassadors, as they're now called, of Leica, along with Alfred Eisenstadt of LIFE and Henri Cartier-Bresson of Magnum. I forgot to mention that the other day.) Well, DDD had a early setback too. He was a college student studying archaeology in Arizona when he photographed a hotel fire in Tucson. He concentrated on one man who made repeated attempts to get back into the burning hotel to rescue a suitcase. The man turned out to be the notorious 1930s gangster John Dillinger, and the suitcase contained the cash from a recent bank robbery during which Dillinger had killed a man. Young Duncan's great lucky scoop was turned over to the Tucson Citizen newspaper. But somewhere along the way the newspaper lost or destroyed the film, and the college student's pictures never appeared in the newspaper and were never returned to him. Golden opportunity lost, through no fault of his own.

[UPDATE: More likely it was some of Dillinger's gang—see B.J.'s Featured Comment below. In any event, the identifications led to Dillinger's capture. —Ed.]

That's the sort of thing that might have become the sort of setback I'm talking about. DDD might have gone on to become an archaeology professor, say, who repeated to people the story of how he wanted to be a photojournalist when he was young (and some might need to be reminded now how much status that profession had in the broad middle swath of the 20th century). He would lovingly tell of his great encounter with Dillinger, speaking quietly and with a sad smile of the perfidy of the newspaper that betrayed him, and of his dead and buried dream, clutching his calcified resentment next to his heart like a pearl.

Of course, that's not what happened. David Douglas Duncan went on to become a major photographer of three American wars, WWII, Korea, and Vietnam, and those were only the peaks of his peripatetic accomplishment. The Dillinger story is only a footnote, albeit an entertaining one. Duncan was neither stunted nor stymied by that early bit of bad luck. He picked himself up off the ground, dusted himself off, and kept on going.

All this is just a digression, of course! Forgive me. Although I do hope that Clay Lewis eventually forgets this success. Which is to say, I hope it becomes merely the first of many for him.

Mike
(Photo by Wildhartlivie, CC by 3.0)

*It reminds me of something I heard in a lecture to the faculty at a school where I taught, given by the head of psychiatry at a children's hospital: he said, "If you want your children to succeed, let them fail early and often."

Gordon Lewis replies: Thanks for the promo, Mike. This is still all new to Clay. Fortunately, his focus is on the music, so everything else is icing on the cake.

As for your main topic, a similar example comes to mind: Bill "Superfoot" Wallace was a judo champion until an opponent fell on his right knee, causing permanent damage. He could have given up martial arts or exercise entirely. Instead, he became a kickboxer whose unique sideways stance used his right leg only for support. His left roundhouse kick was so fast and accurate that even though everyone knew he would use it, they could do little to stop it.

The way I'd express your point is, if you're looking for an excuse to quit, you can find one. The same applies if you're determined to find a pathway to success.

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

HiMY SYeD: "I simply want to say, 'Thank You' for writing this. It's important, and I needed to hear it."

Fred Tuman: "The life of a pro photographer in my case can be similar to a professional athlete. I struggled from when I came out of art school till my mid-thirties, when a fashion stylist I knew introduced me to the Head Art Director of a major beauty catalogue. Now I'm shooting soft goods in the morning and complex fashion sets in the evening and everything else in between...and making the money you're supposed to get.

"Two years into this the AD gets a stroke and passes on set. The advertising agency now gives me the cold shoulder like I never existed. I was out with no chance of returning.

"That was the 1990s. Thirty years later I've had a number of commercial hits, but nothing like that. Unlike most in that field, I didn't blow my money by sinking it into a big studio. I invested it and gave myself enough of a cushion to turn down assignments that will end up killing you. Now with COVID-19, you hope you'll get a chance again, if you can last it out and see if any work returns.

"Looking back at everything...when you are busy doing that high-end stuff, you are not enjoying it...the pressure is too great."

William Lewis: "Nice track, I've passed it on to some others I think might enjoy it. I'll have to burn it to CD and see if the local independent radio will play it."

Bryan Geyer: "DDD certainly was one of the 'great brand ambassadors,' but it was Nikon's notable lenses that he preferred to mate to his Leica rangefinder bodies when he covered the bulk of the Korean action.

He later switched to Nikon F reflex bodies (and lenses) for Vietnam.

"Reference here."

Mike replies: That's according to Nikon, and it's partly right—DDD was long revered at Nikon for bringing the company to the attention of the world by using its lenses in Korea and spreading the word—but it's still not exactly right. He writes in War Without Heroes: "I depended upon two Leicas (custom-built M3Ds) crossed bandolier-style on my chest. One Leica was fitted with a Leitz 50mm f1.4 Summilux, the other with a Nikkor 28mm f2.8 lens; both lenses with medium yellow filters. In addition—hanging down the center of my chest—I carried a Nikon F with a Nikkor 200mm f4 lens, also with a medium yellow filter."

The film was Kodak Tri-X developed in Kodak D-76.

And by the way, the "D" in M3D stood for his name in a funny way—the pun of "3D" referred to Duncan's nickname "DDD." One of DDD's customized M3's (he had four of them) sold in May 2012 for 1.68 million euros (about $2.13m) at WestLicht.

B.J.: "Mike, the DDD/Dillinger story may be apocryphal. The Hotel Congress still stands in Tucson and is a popular (pre-COVID) hangout for shows, food, and drink. Every year they have a 'Dillinger Days' celebration, so the story of Dillinger's capture is frequently retold. During the January 1934 fire at the hotel, several members of Dillinger's gang were staying there, but Dillinger was staying elsewhere. The gang members escaped from the burning hotel, but offered a cash reward if the firemen would retrieve their luggage from their room. The firemen did so, and later one said that he thought the suitcases were exceptionally heavy. Later, back at the fire station (and this I find a bit difficult to believe) a fireman was reading True Detective magazine and came upon an illustrated article about the Dillinger gang. He recognized several of the men pictured as the ones who asked him to rescue the suitcases. The police were notified, a surveillance operation was set up and, two days later, in several raids, Dillinger and his gang were captured. The heavy suitcases turned out to have been full of firearms.

"Whatever actually happened, I think it is generally accepted that Dillinger himself was not at the hotel during the fire. If so, then DDD did not get any pictures of Dillinger, although he might have gotten pictures of some of Dillinger's gang. Also, the presence of the Dillinger gang in Tucson was not generally known till their capture a few days later.

Mike replies: Thanks for the deeper dive, B.J.—I added an Update to the post. Even if that particular example is not as good as it seemed, though, the principle still holds IMO.

After Fifty Years

Do you recall my friend Jim Sherwood, who bought a single original photograph for himself every year on his birthday, only to see his collection flourish over the decades and become worth far more than he had paid for it? (At this link, scroll down to "The not-a-collector collector.")

Jim's had a very successful and involved life in photography, which in recent years has extended to photobook collecting and selling. I thought I'd pass along a brief but moving comment Jim made on Facebook about what a customer said about one particular book. Here's the Facebook post in its entirety (very lightly edited):

"To my Facebook friends—some of you know I am a longtime, passionate photobook collector. Over the last 15 years I’ve been an online book dealer. In the process, you develop superficial client relationships with minimal communication. It’s the nature of web business. Rarely do I know anything about why someone wants to purchase a particular book.

"A few day ago I got an order for David Douglas Duncan’s War Without Heroes (1970), a powerful Vietnam War combat zone photo essay. Informing the buyer that I was on vacation and would ship the book upon my return, I received this message:

Understood. Enjoy your trip. I am in the book. I have waited fifty years to bring myself to see all of my friends that did not make it.

Signed, ______, Sergeant Major, U.S. Marine Corps, Never Retired.

"I was speechless, and deeply moved."

I wonder how that Marine Sergeant Major felt after viewing the book—I can imagine it bringing back both bad memories and good. I wonder if he was grateful to have had a part of his life documented that, in most soldiers' lives and experience, wasn't.

I have that book too, thanks to the recommendation of my friend and onetime book dealer Andy Moursund, who called it one of the three best books of war photography ever made. It's powerful work. DDD, as he was called, "embedded" with a combat unit long before that term was common, so it's a view from the inside of what it was like to experience the war in a U.S. Marine Corps unit.

DDD was a Marine himself who served in WWII. He donated the proceeds of This is War!, his book of Korean War photographs, to the widows and children of Marines who died in Korea. He himself passed away only two years ago at the age of 102.

Thanks to Jim for letting me republish this here.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Ashton Lee: "In 1967 my father was given a copy of DDD's book Yankee Nomad. I have had a deep love for photography since turning the first page. If anyone had not seen and read it, you must. It is as important and revealing as Weston's Daybooks. I have long thought it interesting that Duncan published his retrospective 52 years before he died."

Dave Levingston: "I have that book and, I think, all of David Douglas Duncan's books. He was my original inspiration to become a photojournalist when I checked his Yankee Nomad book out of my library and read the whole thing. When he published I Protest after visiting Khe Sanh during the Vietnam War, I knew I had chosen the right hero."

Iain: "One of photography's most powerful attributes is that it is able to raise the dead."

Which Superwideangle?

If you were going to choose between them (and even if you don't use Fuji, you can play here—why not?), would you pick the Fuji XF 14mm ƒ/2.8 or the XF 16mm ƒ/1.4?

The 14mm garners glowing reviews from pretty much all precincts, including this one. It was the first ultra-wide prime in the line, arriving in early 2013. It's reasonably small and light, very wide (equivalent to a 21mm in angle-of-view on FF), and adequately fast. If looks are important to you, it is...homely. Current cost new is a stout $800.

The fast 16mm (above) is only slightly less wide (24mm-e angle of view), fully two stops faster than the 14mm, and was added to the line in 2015. It has fewer fans, probably because fewer people own it, but it seems to get good reviews as well.

Some comparisons:

The 14mm has a 58mm filter size; the 16mm, 67mm.

The slower lens is quite light at 235g (8.3 oz.), the faster one is heavier (but still pretty light in absolute terms) at 375g (13.23 oz.).

The prices of the two are almost equal, as the fast 16mm costs only $50 more than the 14mm. This choice is not bedeviled by dollars.

Small focal length differences in the ultra-wide range makes a big perceptual difference, so 14mm "feels" noticeably wider than 24mm. On the other hand, I've always felt that 24mm-e is as wide a wide-angle as I'll ever actually need.

Speed differences, on the other hand, are less important with ultra-wides, because camera shake is less of an issue (think of handholding an extreme telephoto; the opposite effect is in play at the other end of the spectrum) and depth-of-field differences are minimal in practice. Nobody buys an ultra-wide to get deliberate out-of-focus areas. But fast is fast when it comes to photons. The bigger lens is also an R WR, whereas the 14mm is only R. (In the Fuji universe, R means the lens has a physical aperture ring; WR means water resistant. "Water resistant" means don't plunge it into the bathtub, but a little rain won't hurt. Personally I never mess with water, because I don't know the point of failure for water resistance and the only way to find out is when your lens gets ruined.)

A wrench in the gears here: there is also a slow 16mm "Fujicron" (above), which is light and cheap. It came along last year. It's an R WR too. You could say the Fuji XF 10–24mm ƒ/4 R OIS is a wrench in the works too, coming in from the zoom side of things. That one has in-lens stabilization, which none of the primes has. Not an issue for my X-H1, or for the X-T4, but it is for other Fuji cameras.

One man's (one Mike's?) verdict
I've always had this idea that the lens you use the most, you should put most of your money into; the lens you use the least is the place for economizing; and proportionately in between. So, since I use my ultra-wide the least, that would be the best place for getting by with less. So, if I were buying today, I'd get the Fujicron 16mm, hands down and going away. It would be Spockily logical.

And yet, I'm happy the 14mm was the only thing going when I took the plunge. It's one of the few lenses I've owned in this century that I'm completely happy with. I love the way it renders. It just keeps giving me gifts and never lets me down. Small, light, handy, and great. What's not to love?

Maybe the price, but that only stings once.

The 16mm ƒ/1.4 is the obvious choice for someone who wants the best, because of its far superior maximum aperture. And you hardly pay for that at all, vs. the 14mm. Yet it's one of the few Fuji lenses that have never tempted me. I don't think about it. YMM definitely V.

I don't think there's a bad choice between the three, but that means it's a tough choice.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Steve Biro: "I bought the 14mm ƒ/2.8 very early in my Fuji adventure. As time went on, I bought a number of other lenses—including each Fujicron prime as it was introduced. But when they brought out the 16mm ƒ/2.8, I saw no reason to bother since I had the 14mm, which continues to impress me to this day. It lacks WR, but that's not critical. Now, Fuji has put the 10–24mm ƒ/4 zoom on sale for $699. It normally sells for a grand. Dang—I've been trying to cut back on gear."

Trevor Johnson: "The 14mm ƒ/2.8 Fuji is the reason I would buy into the Fuji X system. But I won't as my small Sony A... with the Touit 12mm in Sony E mount (I was shooting with it yesterday) is terrific for when I want to go compact/lightweight."

Mike replies: The Zeiss Touit 12mm is also available in native Fuji X mount. And I have one to sell if anyone's interested.

Rob L.: "I flat-out love the 16mm ƒ/1.4, and I use it at ƒ/1.4 often. Mostly that's a result of it being a fantastic lens for closeup people shots in places like Disney rides, so it's not been heavily used for a while. It's sharp, just fun to use, and, on the X-H1, a 16mm ƒ/1.4 in the dark, handheld, is amazing. I used it on a cave trip, where the only other usable photos were from my IR camera with an IR flash commander as a flash. We're opposites on the 14mm and 16mm: never tempted by the 14—that is why I love the Fuji system so much. There's a great amount of specialization at the most-used focal lengths allowing for a lot of very different shooters to find their perfect fit. I also must admit, the subject separation and out of focus areas is a big reason I love the 16mm so much more than the 14mm...."

Dogman: "I have both the 14mm and the 16mm ƒ/2.8 Fujinons. The 14mm is truly a beautiful lens and I love the look it gives to photos. The only thing I dislike about it is that I can't comfortably use the OVF of my X-Pro cameras with this lens. It requires me to use the EVF and I'm not really a fan of that feature. But the lens is so good I put up with that inconvenience. When the 16mm ƒ/2.8 was announced, I pre-ordered it. It is now more or less permanently mounted on an X-Pro2. It's usable with the optical finder, small, and optically pretty darn good. I've always liked the 24mm in 35mm format. Back in the film days, I completely wore out a Nikkor 24mm ƒ/2.8, and a second one was well on the way to being used up before I retired it in favor of autofocus gear."

Ken Bennett: "Hey, Mike, I've been shooting Fuji full time professionally since mid-2013. Is it bad that I have every single one of the lenses you mentioned? Yes, including both 16mm versions. (Hangs head in shame.) I actually do use them all, too, for different purposes. The 16mm ƒ/1.4 is a primary work/journalism/documentary lens. The ƒ/2.8 version goes in my little everyday carry bag with an X Pro2 and several 'Fujicrons.' The 14mm is very useful for landscapes and architecture, though honestly I do most of that now with the GFX system. The 10–24mm is a terrific wide zoom and very useful. I've been very happy with the entire system."

Jim Simmons: "For architectural interiors, it is helpful to fine-tune the focal length, so I am very happy using the 10–24mm zoom. It is rectilinear, as is the 14mm (but I believe that's not the case with either of the 16mms). The zoom is not as sharp at the 24mm end, but not by too much. "

Leon Droby: "I've owned both but not at the same time. And I liked both but for different reasons. The 14mm ƒ/2.8 is great for carrying around and using at ƒ/5.6 or ƒ/8 for landscapes. The 16mm ƒ/1.4 is great when I want to get up close to things but have limited DOF.

"Recently I've come back to Fujifilm with an X-T4 (although I never really left; just flirted with others). I've been using too many different cameras lately so that my photography has suffered. So, I'm committing to one camera and lens for a while. The X-T4 and 35mm ƒ/1.4. But, if I did want an ultra wide, it'd be the 16mm ƒ/2.8. Small, light and weather resistant. Quality? They're all very good. (My how my priorities have changed over time.). It'd be a great fit for the X-T4."

David Brookes: "I have the 14mm ƒ/2.8 and the 10–24 ƒ/4 and feel they complement each other—I would not want to be without either. The 16mm ƒ/1.4 has a great reputation, but I have read some less than flattering reviews of the 16mm ƒ/2.8."

Nick: "I think it depends on your use case—when I shot Fuji I had the 16mm ƒ/1.4 which was fantastic whenever the light got low. Think handheld shots which would otherwise be challenging with a slower lens such as at weddings, or travel photography in dark cathedrals etc. It was also good for astrophotography where you need a fast-ish shutter speed to stop star trails while keeping ISO down. I loved that lens and would not have picked any of the other options instead. If it was just for general purpose walkaround stuff, then the 16mm ƒ/2.8 would have been the best size and cost choice for occasional use, but there are still advantages to fast apertures even given the existence of IBIS and tripods. And the Fuji ƒ/1.4 is still small and light (and cheap) compared to the full frame equivalent."

Thomas Walsh: "I have the 10–24 and it pairs well with X-T3. It can also be used for street photography, which is a big plus if you only want to carry around one lens."

Chris Kilkes: "I own the 16mm ƒ/1.4 (and the ƒ/2.8 as it happens, don’t ask) and when I take up close macro-ish type shots aiming for artsy blur versus clinical sharpness I love how my 16mm ƒ/1.4 renders the out of focus areas and bokeh in exactly the same way my older generation primes do (i.e. the 23mm ƒ/1.4, 35mm ƒ/1.4 and 56mm ƒ/1.2). Sounds like that’s probably an edge use case. But then when I take it out to shoot landscapes and architecture and stop it down it’s ridiculously sharp. All in all it’s turned into one of my favorite and most-used lenses. But mileage may vary as you say Mike."

My Attempt at the 'Artist's Statement' Exercise

Please note that with the "Artist's Statement" suggestion, I'm only proposing it as an exercise. You don't need to critique the whole genre or develop an ideological position about artists' statements in particular or the art world in general in order to benefit from it. Just write a short paragraph that provides a positive description of who you are as a photographer and what you care about.

Consider it a paragraph-long introduction to you...for people who don't know you. I'll quote a sentence from Steve Caddy's Featured Comment to the "Catch Fire" post: "The statement is a stab at helping to shed a little light to help orient the viewer."

And yes, write it in the third person. That's the genre. Go along.  :-)

Civil War generals
I actually took my own advice and tried the exercise yesterday evening. I'm not suggesting you share yours, because perhaps such exercises work better if they don't have to be displayed to the world and opened up to criticism. But I'll share my attempt just as an example, as a topic for discussion, and also because...well, it surprised me what I came up with! Honestly, I had no notion of where I was going to go with it when I sat down to write.

I started with "Mike Johnston is interested in..." and look what came out:

Mike Johnston is interested in portraiture and portraits of all types, especially informal, candid, and environmental portraits. This interest first showed itself at age six when he vandalized his parents’ collection of old National Geographic magazines by cutting out portraits of all the U.S. Presidents to make a "collection," a transgression for which his parents, generously, decided not to punish him. As an older child he became a great aficionado of the Civil War and decorated the walls of his bedroom with portraits of Civil War Generals and other historical personages. Books of Civil War photographs functioned as his introduction to the medium of photography, though not consciously. His first published photograph, taken at age 16 or so, was a portrait of a French restaurant owner and her chef in Holiday magazine, in an article written by his father. His first "show," in the dining room of the prep school he attended, consisted almost entirely of casual portraits of faculty members and fellow students. When he worked as a photographer for hire in the '80s and '90s he was mostly commissioned to do portraits. He most enjoyed making portraits of kids and young people, often with their parents or other family members. More flexibly, the concept of "portrait" can often be detected lurking behind other photographs of his, from family snapshots, to pictures of cars or dogs, to depictions of interior spaces or even trees or found objects.

Hmm. Well, apparently my first thought, when my mind is a blank, is that I'm a portrait photographer. I don't think it would have occurred to me to describe myself that way if someone just casually asked me.

I'm going to have to think about this. Was that just an easy way to go when I needed to come up with a sample "artist's statement" for publication here? I don't do portraits any more, largely because no one really needs them any more, at least at my level. People take selfies now.

But when I think back, there might be something to this. Portraits were the only specific thing I ever marketed as a pro. Generally I advertised myself as a lower-level jobber photographer who would do any sort of work, and I mostly got "any sort of work," but whenever I "asked" for the sort of work I actually wanted, it was portraiture.

I earned the most money from portraiture. I charged $675 for a sitting back in D.C. And that was more money then than it is now.

...And I got it, too, which is a crucial point! It doesn't matter what you ask for your services; what matters is whether someone pays it.

I photographed some famous people—at least, famous in the context of D.C.'s prevailing political culture back then. Including a U.S. Supreme Court judge, and a television talk show host.

It also seems to have been the only area in which artistic creativity on the one hand and commercial ambition on the other intersected for me—I developed several distinct styles I liked, and devised at least one specialty—the "engagement portrait," by which I meant a casual portrait of a couple just before their marriage. (I didn't like photographing weddings, but I liked the challenge of making pictures of couples that hopefully showed a little bit about how they felt about each other.)

Genius idea
And when I sat down to write, I was thinking of a particular long-ago circumstance. When I first got into photography, I took a job moonlighting at a framing shop so I could learn how to frame my own work. There I met a co-worker named Judy, who would idly talk about how she was going to open her own frame shop one day. At the time, I dismissed it as daydream-talk—Judy was not a hard worker as an employee. But Judy was made of sterner stuff than I thought—she did indeed open a frame shop, only a block away from where I lived in Georgetown. And it prospered, too.

At the time, I'd been having a peculiar problem. I had purchased a display advertisement—offering portraits—in the Yellow Pages (the commercial phone book, if anyone is too young to remember). And the ad drew customers. But I soon realized that I had little idea what these customers envisioned from the word "portrait." Which wouldn't have been a problem, except that everybody did seem to have something in mind! Everybody had their own conception of what a portrait was, yet few of them could put it into words. So what would happen is that I'd make a portrait, and they'd be dissatisfied because it didn't match their expectations, their preconceived idea about what they assumed I was going to do.

To counteract this, I asked Judy if I could put up some of my favorite portraits in her Georgetown shop, and she agreed. I only hung "personal work"—the kind of artistic portrait I most preferred to do, in my chosen style. My deal with her was that I'd send prospects to her shop to look at my work (it was my marketing portfolio, you might say), and, in return, I'd drop off the finished product at her shop and instruct my clients to pick it up there. Which would of course be a perfect opportunity for them to go ahead and get it framed, giving her a sale. I think she even agreed to give me a small percentage of the profit.

Examples of what my customers would pick up at the frame shop. Fiber-base prints, dry mounted and matted, in plastic bags. Not coincidentally, ready for framing.

I thought this was a genius arrangement. Along with all its other advantages, I really did want my clients to frame my work, the better to protect it for posterity.

And it worked great, as long as it lasted. Prospective clients saw exactly the kind of portrait I most wanted to do. Not only did they want me to do the same sort of thing for them, but sometimes they could tell me which specific picture they liked best and why. Compared to what happened with the Yellow Pages ad, it was night and day. I went from getting clients who had mystery expectations they couldn't communicate to me, to getting clients who wanted precisely what I could most easily provide.

Unfortunately, I had a traumatic life-event not long after, which triggered a relapse of my alcoholism, so the portrait enterprise fizzled. But it was the closest I ever came to being able to do exactly what I wanted to do and get paid for it.

I guess the next thing to think about is whether any of this should have any implications for the future. I'll go ponder that....

Mike

ADDENDUM: Finally identified the comment that inspired the "Catch Fire" artist statement post. I think I might be the one who lost it—I think I added it to the "Access" post as a Featured Comment but then got my wires crossed in publishing it and it got lost. Anyway, it was from Dave Jenkins and this is what Dave said:

Sometime after my book Rock City Barns: A Passing Era was published in 1996 and became an instant best-seller, I received a letter from the well-known art photographer Maria von Matteson, who proposed arranging a joint exhibit with her and the great Florida Everglades photographer Clyde Butcher. The show never happened, but one thing that Maria said to me stuck: she said 'You need to write an artist's statement that defines you.' So I did, and this is what I came up with. 'My domain is the old, the odd, and the ordinary; the beautiful, the abandoned, and the about to vanish away. I am a visual historian of an earlier America and a recorder of the interface between man and nature; a keeper of vanishing ways of life.' As a commercial, architectural, and occasional wedding photographer, I've done a lot of things that don't fit within that statement. Yet, for the past 22 years I've known who I am as a photographer and have sought to work as much as possible within that vein, including magazine articles and my most recent book Backroads and Byways of Georgia.

I wrote about this on my blog A Life in Photography.

Thanks to Dave and my apologies to him (and, er, to everyone) for misplacing his comment in the first place.

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Keith: "Now I'm seriously thinking of having a go at an artist's statement. Not that I'll publish it anywhere. Before I read your blog on the topic, I thought such things were an act of artistic pretension; a demonstration one could do 'artist talk.' Now I see it should be more an act of definition, of helping the viewer understand what they're about to see."

Quote o' the Day: Mozart

"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings."

—Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

-

(posted by) Mike

 

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Sunday Support Group: Catch Fire

I know, it's not Sunday, it's Monday. But I couldn't get down to work yesterday.

It comes as a surprise to some of my readers (all of whom are wonderful and above average) when I mention that not every post is for everybody. For example, only 79% of TOP readers are vitally interested in pool. (Estimated.) It may be shocking to people of good sense that as many as 21% of readers could be indifferent to that great sport...and still be above average; but I know they're out there because they blast me with the firehose every now and then.

Oh, I know what you're thinking: "how can anyone not like pool?" I share your bewilderment! Cue sports, as they're collectively called, are my sports. But some people prefer other sports, which I have to say is somewhat incomprehensible. 

Well, life is full of mysteries!

So...what follows is not for everybody.

And I did not come up with this. It was mentioned by a commenter the other day. (Readers make all the good contributions around here). But I can't find it. Yr. Hmbl. Jgglr. (moi) does not keep as many plates in the air as formerly. It was part of the discussion about subject matter somehow. Might have been a private email.

Artist statements...
But (he says, finally getting to the point), here's a simple exercise that can be remarkably clarifying:

Write your artist's statement.

An artist's statement (you're playing the artist in this scenario, and don't worry about the implications of the word) is a short but serious statement of what you're about, what you're doing, what you're trying to accomplish, what your concerns are. It describes you as a creator to somebody who doesn't know you. It also (sometimes not so subtly) indicates how you would like your work to be seen by others.

Write it from the perspective of the photographer you want to be, not the one you happen to actually be.

As an illuminating exercise, it will probably be more useful the younger you are.

You don't have to show it to anybody, so go ahead and be a little conceited if you wish. This is one of the rare occasions when being a tad egotistical might actually help.

...And why we won't write them
As I was mulling this over, realizing that very few readers will actually do this, and wondering how I could encourage or inspire a few more of you to take pen to paper, it occurred to me that I should take a gulp of my own medicine and do it myself. So I've been meaning to. For two days now. Seems simple enough.

But have I done it? No.

Well, I haven't yet.

So if you don't do this, well, me neither. So I can hardly blame you if you don't.

Believe
Still, I believe in the possibilities of the exercise. For the right person in the right circumstances (see above about this not being for everyone), it could even change your whole direction as a photographer and ignite your enthusiasm and your commitment. And help your work catch fire.

I should really try it....

Mike
(Thanks to the as-yet unidentified reader who brought this up)

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Kirk Decker: "A few years ago I took a business development class for artists and photographers. A lot of time was spent on writing elevator pitches, grant proposals, budgets, artist statements, and bios. The language in a good artist statement shouldn't be much different than the language you’d use to explain a new project to a good friend over lunch. Galleries, magazines, exhibitions, and art shows are going to want an artist statement, and probably a bio, when they consider your work.

"I have a Google drive folder called 'Artist and About Me statements.' In that folder are several statements in about 15 different lengths and flavors. Lengths range from 99 characters, for art shows, to 300 words and up, for galleries and grant applications. I don't have to reinvent the wheel every time I apply for something. I just go to my folder and copy/paste the length and style they ask for.

"Here’s an excerpt from a statement I display at art shows. It's written specifically for those who come to these shows. It invites conversation, and people will frequently ask to photograph it.

I use Film, Digital, and Infrared cameras in my photography.

When I use Film I'm not looking for some sort of Ultimate Quality in film. I'm looking for an aesthetic quality that incorporates the Japanese ideas of beauty as a part of impermanence and imperfection. I embrace film now, for the very qualities that when we shot film (back then) were considered qualities to be avoided.

Shooting With Film is about the realization that perfection is not beauty and that it is our "flaws" that make us beautiful; realizing that our censoring has been self-censoring, all our restraints and hesitations have been self imposed based on our misconceptions of what we see in ourselves. It is about being beautiful in the moment now, never waiting to be beautiful later.

"'Shooting With Film' is capitalized in this statement as it is the name of one of my Instagram accounts."

Steve C: "I think it's a valuable and clarifying exercise. There's value in the attempt whether the attempt produces a successful or useful statement or not.

"A successful statement depends on being able to find the words. And working with words is not often like working with pictures. All artists—which is to say, all people who express themselves creatively — respond to the world around them and to the world within them. The statement is a stab at helping to shed a little light to help orient the viewer.

"The most powerful example I can think of was an exhibition I went to that included found pictures of two children, portraits, landscapes, soundscapes and found objects. It was evocative, and clearly about family and identity, but I couldn't put it all together.

"In the her statement, the artist explained that her sister had been murdered when they were in their early teens, that the story had caught the attention of the media and her sister's image had become the face of a public conversation about predatory violence. This work was about reclaiming her sister and her image as someone real, with shared memories, joys and relationships."

"In that light, the work became immensely powerful in a way that I don't think it could have if the work itself was direct enough to 'speak for itself.'"

Reminder!

If you have some time this weekend, you might want to treat yourself to Bill Jay's famous essay "The Thing Itself." We mentioned it the other day.

The phrase was Edward Weston's. Edward, behind the formidable veil of his artistry and mastery, was essentially a still-life photographer. Few kinds of photographers care more about things themselves.

Bill was an iconoclast, always a little outside the art-world mainstream despite his numerous publications and academic positions. He thought for himself, followed his path, went his own way. He was also a photographer. His primary subject was other photographers. He made a great many fine portraits. I've seen very few less than good.

I think it's probably unlikely that you'll agree with everything he claims and says in this essay. But I also think it's likely that you'll find it thoughtful and thought-provoking—and a constructive, rewarding way to pass time on a lazy Summer weekend.

And if you don't want to read it now, put it on your virtual bedstand for some future day.

Mike

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Ricardo Hernandez: "Thank you so much for linking this Mike. I was not aware of it and it sure is making me think about my photographic journey, what I want to do, and though a big part of me already knew it - how petty are all these tribal sports like fights in forums about camera brands. I really like in particular the example he gave of the violinist on the TV interview, the very pragmatic "if you have filtered subjects of interest and you remain with equal subjects, pick the one people are interested the most at that point (but only at that point)" (I am paraphrasing) - the pick a subject that you are passionate about because it's how you will carry on examining it over and over again. Great, great read. Thank you so much!"

Animesh Ray: "Written with unusual clarity...what a difference from Sontag's On Photography. While trying to read the latter I couldn't go beyond what it is not to get to what it is. Here Bill Jay gets to the heart in a few short strokes of his pen. He writes like the best of the journalists, which he was for a long time. I agree with him on the primacy of the subject in photography. The surprise was his opinion on a personal style, that one cannot make it consciously, that it is an unconscious by-product of passion and work (and, may I add, of talent)."

Your Shot of the Day: Drag Shot (OT)

This is actually a miss, which is unusual for Your Shot of the Day, but it's an excellent visual tutorial on what a drag shot is. First, you'll watch Han Yu of China, who is comfortably leading Shane Van Boening of the USA at Gibraltar, miss a safety shot. But then watch the slow-mo replay very closely. You'll clearly see the cue (white) ball spinning backwards, then skidding, then picking up forward roll before striking the yellow 1-ball.

China's Han Yu

That's a drag shot, which is used for covering distance with the cue ball while at the same time striking the object ball at a low, slow speed. It's among my favorite pool shots.

To watch pool you generally need to know what the response of the cue ball is telling you about how it was struck. Precise striking of the cue ball is where an important part of the physical skill of cue sports resides, but it's mostly difficult to impossible to see with the naked eye where the cue tip hits the cue ball. So we look at setup and at results to see how the player put spin on the cue ball. After contact, the white ball usually tells the tale.

The game is not so much about sinking object balls—most players can do that most of the time. It's more about "moving the white ball around the table." If you ever see a pro miss a ball that you would have thought should be easy, it's not because they can't pocket the object ball. Ninety-eight percent of the time it's because they're trying to do too much with the cue ball.

Get in position
A bonus: you can also use this same match to see a nice demonstration of position play. Start at the 18 minute minute mark, as Shane tries to notch his first rack. It takes less than three minutes. Pay close attention to where the cue ball comes to rest after he pockets each ball.

If you'll look at the bottom of the video frame you'll see a graphic showing the balls left on the table in the order in which they need to be potted (actually any ball can be potted; but the lowest-numbered ball on the table always needs to be struck first). Pro players have the entire runout mapped out in their heads as they play. They might need to revise that plan if something goes awry, but if a nine-ball player thinks she can run out and is shooting at the 3-ball, for instance, she already knows where she needs the cue ball to be four shots later to sink the 7-ball.

And note that a "perfect" shot on the next ball, i.e. dead straight on, is not what a player wants from position play...on each shot, Shane needs to land on the next shot to give himself an angle to get to the shot after that. You always need the angle in order to move the cue ball. So planning position on any shot actually needs to account for the proper angle for two shots into the future. The only ball you might want to be straight on is the last shot of the rack—and note where Shane ends up on that ball here.

On to the action. Shane starts out with a difficult shot on the red 3-ball—a rail shot is tough because you can only strike the cue ball on its crown, which makes the shot more difficult and also takes away a lot of cue-ball control. The pink 4-ball to the orange 5-ball is a particularly impressive positional shot. From the 3 to the 4 to the 5 here is masterful position play.

Despite Han Yu's success, she takes a long time in this match to get used to the speed of the table—a beautiful, very high-end Chinese Rasson—which is playing slow. Dozens of her shots in the first third of the match are underhit and come up short of position. Pros are better at adjusting to fast tables than they are to slow ones. It's the opposite for amateurs.

She's also overcoming a shorter shot clock. She has 30 seconds for each shot, and she's accustomed to being a deliberate, methodical player within the limits of the 45-second clock the women use. You'd never know it by her languid, laid-back manner, but she's being rushed throughout the match. But good shotmaking, smart planning, and her steady, even temperament, along with some outstanding safety* play (she wins at least two of her racks with wickedly good safeties), plus the addition of a little good luck here and there and a few misses from Shane, carry her to an impressive showing. The match goes hill-hill, meaning the winner will be decided by the last rack.

Mike

*A safety is when you put your opponent in a bad position instead of putting yourself in a good one. It's the mark of a rank amateur when someone thinks a safety shot is "cheating"!

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tom: "Did you post this to the wrong blog?"

Jeff1000: "I learned more about pool in that short essay than a lifetime playing eight-ball. Outstanding!"

How to Buy a Camera

Pick the lenses first. That's how I do it.

This is just my idea of how to go about this, by the way. Just friendly advice, is all, submitted for your consideration.

Figure out what you want for lenses and then find the brand that has all the lenses you need. Then pick a camera body that fits those lenses.

That's first. The second rule I have for myself is: I make sure all the lenses I want exist now. All. Now. Never buy a camera based on one or more lenses that are on a "roadmap" (= promised product) or that you simply assume will eventually be made someday because it's logical. The market doesn't do logic, or—at least—what strikes you as logical might not appear that way to marketers. It's exasperating that smart corporations with all their resources still fail to see things your way, but it happens.

Left hanging
My advice comes from bitter experience. It's the result of months and years spent waiting and waiting and waiting for lenses I assumed would be in the pipeline "sometime soon"...but weren't. I think my friend John C. just went through this, drumming his fingers impatiently for Nikon to announce a Nikkor-Z 70–200mm ƒ/4, smaller and lighter than the ƒ/2.8.

I've done the same thing more than once over the years, I'm sorry to admit. After a while you do get tired of being left hanging, so you might as well have some sympathy for your future self from the start.

The lenses should fit you in terms not only of optical performance, but also in terms of size, and affordability, or any other parameter you personally happen to care about. You know what you care about; I don't. Size is important to me, but I know photographers who don't care about it at all. When asked what camera he used, Ansel Adams used to answer, "the biggest one I can carry!"

Having all the lenses you might want available now is one of the things that makes Micro 4/3 so appealing, in my view. Anyone who can't build a personal kit of lenses out of the multitudinous offerings in Micro 4/3 isn't trying very hard. It's also one of the reasons I loved the Olympus OM system so much in the '80s and '90s—I loved the lenses. These days, Fuji floats my boat. Your (nautical) mileage may vary.

Oh, and if you're fastidious or quirky in some way? Indulge that. Make yourself happy. That would be my advice. Only you know what ruffles your truffles, and it doesn't have to make sense to anybody but you. Matching filter sizes? Superfast maximum apertures? The L-word engraved on the barrel? Rainproofing? Good bokeh, for whatever your definition of "good" happens to be? Bargain price, expensive price? Latest thing, vintage thing? Lots, few? Well-worn, pristine? The same brand Dad used? Anything but the brand Dad used?

And don't settle. At least for your main lens, the one you use 60–80% of the time. There are times I've bought into cameras thinking well, I can just use the [x] lens, it's not perfect but it'll do, only to find myself growing more and more unsatisfied down the road.

Rural views
Of course, you need to have enough experience in the first place to know what kinds of lenses you want. There aren't any rules for that. For instance, my main need is for a prime (single focal length) lens I like in the 35mm to 40mm or equivalent range. (At times I use a 50mm-e.) But Thom Hogan, who certainly knows lenses, says he has never cared for the 35mm(-e) focal length, finding it "in between." I know plenty of people whose main lens is always a zoom, who feel constricted and trapped with just a prime on the camera. So then they need to be able to find and afford the right zoom for their tastes.

And even my needs are changing. Five years ago I moved to a rural area of rolling farmland and narrow lakes in deep valleys, and as I've mentioned several times, scenic pictures are "farther away" here. What I'm carrying in the car as of now are the focal-length equivalents of a 21mm, a 50mm, and an 85–300mm zoom. That's a new kit for me, from a Mike-historical perspective.

A final possibility I can imagine is that you simply don't care about lenses—you'll use what you have, you're not picky, and you can adapt to a variety focal lengths. I'd say I don't know what planet you're from, except I've often been the same way—when I'm reviewing a camera! Or when I was too frugal to have it the way I wanted it. Or just bought something to try it.

When I got my first DSLR, it came with a Chinese-built film-era zoom of 28–75mm, which on my APS-C camera was ~42–112mm focal-length equivalent. (A version of which is still available but darned expensive now.) Not my kind of lens at all. Well, it was my only lens on that camera for several years. It was good enough, and I didn't know if I'd stay with that lensmount (brand) so I was reluctant to buy anything else, and I got used to it.

All this speaks to my first thought about the Nikon Z5: what about the lenses? I'm not looking to jump systems, but I evaluate cameras this way out of habit. Well then, the Nikkor-Z 35mm ƒ/1.8 S looks to me like it might be one of the best 35mms made, optically speaking. But compared to the Fuji of similar spec, it might be a bit too much of a honker—big, heavy, expensive—and although it's only borderline in all three of those negative characteristics, I'm suspicious as to whether I'd be happy with it over the long haul. I know myself too well. Could well be fine (or better than fine, ideal) for others, but it doesn't look like a natural fit for me. I'd have to try it out to know.

Your Kentucky windage may vary.

TGIF
Have a great weekend, wherever in the world you are. Be cautious, and prudent, and good health to you and your family too. ("The hawk just hovers in the updraft, thinking its minimal, hawkish thoughts and waiting for hawkish opportunity." That's from "The Virus is a Hawk." Great sentence, sad truth.) If the weather holds, I plan to head out with the new-to-me used Fuji 55–200mm tomorrow and see how we get along. Looking forward to that. I'll be back here on Sunday.

Mike

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trecento: " I'd like to add, 'don't underestimate the kit lens.' I've used some very good kit lenses before, and I know others have tested some that perform exceptionally.

"I've lost a lot of opportunities to not owning an adequately fast prime. I learned that the hard way, when I bought an affordable entry level DSLR, without checking to see if I could heft or afford the prime lenses for it. That was an expensive mistake. Most of the loss wasn't the money—it was the opportunity to take pictures with a more appropriate lens. I even considered switching to a system that had more awesome features...until someone warned me that I should see for myself if they even made a prime lens in the focal length I needed. (Spoiler: NO.) I think seeing for yourself is the most important thing. Mike is right. Find out what you need to do, then ask the lenses: can you do this?"

Josh Hawkins: "Re 'Pick the lenses first.' Absolutely. I'm also a fan of having a personal lens roadmap. I lay out my ideal set of lenses, within some sense of reality, and then buy just those lenses as much as possible. Other random lenses to fill this hole or that hole for a while just end up being wasted money. (I'm bad about selling my old used gear. I hope that gives you a good laugh Mike.) It also forces me to sit down and decide what I really want and need, ƒ/2.8 or ƒ/4 in my zooms? And sometimes the answer can be surprising."

Mike replies: It did make me chuckle. Ironic!

I like your idea of a personal road map or buying plan. It's like going into the grocery store with a list versus wandering around seeing what catches your eye. Another hint for saving wasted motion is to buy the cheap version of a lens first. If you don't like it, you can always trade it for the expensive version later. But often when you just take pictures with it you realize it serves the purpose just fine. Taking pictures cures a lot of lens angst. Of course sometimes you have to buy the "good one" just to satisfy curiosity.

I bought the Fuji 23mm ƒ/1.4 first, in 2014, because it was all there was then. Only recently added the newer 23mm ƒ/2 which I probably would have bought first if I could have. Now I guess there will be a shootout, which basically will be decided by which one I grab most often. It's an uphill battle for the Fujicron, though: the 23mm ƒ/1.4 has served me well and it's not that big.

 

Bill Jay on 'The Thing Itself'

"...In order to photograph with any degree of continuous passion, you must have a fascination for the subject, otherwise you cannot sustain an interest in the act of creation for a long enough period of time in which to make any insightful or original statement about it. In spite of its seemingly heretical slant (in this day and age) what you photograph is usually more important than how you photograph it.

"The photographer is, first and foremost, a selector of subjects. The photographer makes a conscious choice from the myriad of possible subjects in the world and states: I find this interesting, significant, beautiful or of value. The photographer walks through life pointing at people and objects; the aimed camera shouts 'look at that!' The photographer produces pictures in order that his or her interest in a subject can be communicated to others. Each time a viewer looks at a print, the photographer is saying 'I found this subject to be more interesting or significant than thousands of other objects I could have captured; I want you to appreciate it too.'

"This immediate emotional or intellectual response to the subject matter is at the core of photography. [...]

"I have stressed the importance of subject matter because it is the fundamental principle of photography—and, paradoxically, the least discussed area of the medium, especially to young photographers."

—Bill Jay, "The Thing Itself"

The late Bill Jay (1940–2009) said of his essay "The Thing Itself," "This article has been reproduced more often than any other piece I have written. I think it was first published in Newsletter, Daytona Beach Community College, in 1988—but it is still being used by and copied for college students at the time of posting, 2006."

Bill's writings have been a continuous source of inspiration and enjoyment for me over my lifetime in photography. His book with his mentor and friend David Hurn, the Welsh Magnum photographer, On Being a Photographer, is a must-have for all photographers' libraries. (It's sort of the Strunk and White of photography—and I say that knowing that Shakespeare violated virtually every precept in Strunk and White, and White violated many himself.) It's worth setting some time aside to peruse this essay—something I do periodically.

In fact I think I'll remind you on Saturday morning, to help encourage a few more people to make the acquaintance of "The Thing Itself."

Mike
(Thanks to Mark Sampson)

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Dave Millier: I can see how this is vital to some photographers but not to me. By and large, I have little interest in the subject. For me, the subject is simply some convenient shape—it matters not what it is, because what I photograph is line, curve, pattern, tones and contrasts. I'm perfectly happy photographing a shadow, a crack in a wall, a bent nail, whatever meaningless object, as long as it forms some kind of graphical pattern, line, curve etc, often fleeting and transitory while the light strikes at the perfect angle. Come back 30 minutes later, and most of my photographs have vanished with the light and that angled rusty nail casting a perfect diagonal shadow across a textured yellow wall is now just an unimportant hook and there is no photo to be seen. I see photographic subjects, not as subjects in their own right, but as collections of graphical properties that interact with nearby objects to form a picture. Man consulting a map, or merely a bit of rusty old iron and the momentary perfect angle of light?"

Mike replies: Fair enough certainly, but could you be thinking in a little too limited a way about what "subject" is? You've eloquently stated your subject to be "line, curve, pattern, tones and contrasts" that "forms some kind of graphical pattern." Sounds (and looks) to me like you know exactly what your subject is.

Or maybe we're both thinking about the word "subject" more flexibly than Bill Jay intends in this quotation, I don't know.

Bob Keefer: "You inspired me to download this book on my Kindle and read it today. It's an excellent guide to how to go about actually being a good photographer, as opposed to talking and thinking about it. They rightly pick on academic photography and critical theory, offer sensible advice for how to approach a photography project and emphasize working on photography that moves you. Among my favorite sections was on the subject of gear. Hurn wrote that he originally used Leica rangefinders, but eventually switched to SLRs as his need for eyeglasses messed up the rangefinder view. 'I use the cheapest amateur model in the Canon line for one reason only: it is the quietest in operation. I certainly do not need all the bells and whistles even on this camera.' He does add, though, that his backup camera is a top of the line pro model—because it's resistant to the rain in Wales, where he lives and works. And Jay said, 'Beginning photographers are obsessed with equipment, but there comes a stage when they deny that cameras have any relevance. Yet the best photographers do seem to spend a lot of time talking about cameras again.'"

Mike replies: Supposedly David Hurn had six EOS Rebels around the time he wrote that book. I actually went out and bought one to mimic him...and lasted only a few months with it. Worked fine, but for me it wasn't satisfying to use because of the wee little tunnel viewfinder. I still remember a number of the pictures I took with it, though.

Curtis: "Dear Mike, Were you aware of the documentary film, Do Not Bend: The Photographic Life of Bill Jay? It can be viewed on YouTube and is a very interesting overview of his life. A one-of-a-kind individual I want to learn more about. Thank you for posting the quote!"

Mike replies: I was not aware! And I will watch that. Thanks.

Jim Henry: "Bill Jay's writings have resonated with me since I read them in Lenswork and then in his books. His language was simple, clear, direct, and free of words like 'vision' which I do not understand. I do miss his take on photography and his honest writings. They work for me. Thanks for reminding us all of him."

Open Mike: Tractors

["Open Mike" is the editorial page of TOP. It usually appears on Wednesdays, even when comets appear.]

-

At about six last night I was out throwing the ball for Butters. It was overcast but cool, so I put the dog in and drove to the hill.

When I was walking up the hill I saw something I've never seen before. Going through the wooded section, I started something up in the branches of a tree by the roadside—it turned out to be an absolutely giant raptor of some sort. It looked like an eagle to me but it might have been a buzzard—it was a lot bigger than a hawk anyway. He was very close. He (or she, who knows) took a flurry of powerful strokes to get himself airborne, and then glided past me only twenty feet up or so before turning lazily into the woods. It was almost, I don't know, scary to be that close to such a large bird. You get a feeling you're in the presence of something primeval. My hands didn't even go for the camera; I knew I wanted to keep my full attention on the bird. Sometimes it's better to simply look than to try, and probably fail, to make a photograph.

Once I got up into the meadows and farm fields I ran into two friends—and was confronted with two obvious pictures. First, my Mennonite neighbor Adam came by on his old bike, which he rides all over tarnation*. He stopped, and as we stood talking it was an obvious portrait, man and bike. But some Mennonites do not like their pictures taken and I haven't asked Adam how he feels about it yet (or, if I have, I've forgotten his answer), so I refrained.

Adam, by the way, has a campground in a huge field halfway up the hill. You can rent a nicely mown, flat campsite, pitch your tent, and stay as long as you like. But it's not for campers or trailers—just people with backpacks. If anyone's interested let me know and I'll put you in touch with him. I'll try to take a picture or two next time I'm up there.

Later, Dave came by on his tractor. That picture I took, because Dave puts up with me.

Notice his name on the big rims—customized, right? Pretty stylish. I was using my old X-T1 and the fast 35mm (~50mm-e). I like the color scheme of Dave's tractor, which I think is original, although I think the red bits are now a designer color known as "formerly red." It's a '53 Ford and according to subsequent research it's a Jubilee model, made for Ford Motor Company's 50th birthday that year, but the crest on the nose doesn't say Jubilee so I'm not sure of that. Dave says it's a '53, though, and he should know, although the tractor is older than either of us.

I ended up spending a pleasant hour helping Dave pick black currants, and some white ones too. We've been dry this year, but Dave has a pickup truck with a big tote-tank on the back he uses to haul water to the cattle. This Summer he filled up the tote and watered the currant bushes four times so they'd yield berries despite the dry weather. His crop was about half the bounty he usually gets, but much better than it would have been if he hadn't watered them. I came home with my pay in my stomach. I didn't eat too many—they're precious—but fresh-picked black currants have an amazing flavor. They're not actually all that bitter. When I walked back down the hill I was loaded—my hands were full of yellow squash, onions with dirt still on 'em, and fresh-picked kale, and I had a cucumber in my shirt pocket.

Dave's is a working farm tractor, as you can tell from the hard-won patina of age and use. If you'd like to see this same model (well, I think—something very close anyway) used as a recreational vehicle, check out this video I found of a guy whose name is Mike Hood. Mike is not only a tractor aficionado but a tractor photographer, too. (Bet you were wondering why this post didn't have "OT" on it.) He makes tractor calendars. The part about the photography doesn't come until near the end of the video.

Seems like a happy guy, doesn't he? It helps to know what you like.

Mike

*Originally a squashing-together of "the entire nation."

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

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Derek Kemp: "Mike, you made my day! Ha, I haven’t heard anyone use that word since I was a lad (and now at 75, that was some time ago) when my Dad used it all the time: 'What in tarnation . . .!?' I can still hear him say it, ha!"

Rod Franklin: "Based on my experience in the woods, the bird that you saw was an Eastern wild turkey. The smartest bird on this continent...according to Benjamin Franklin. I see a lot of them 'cause I live in the woods and near the swamp. Thanks for the blog. I read it every day."

Mike replies: Could have been. Another reader suggested a turkey vulture. I'm sorry I can't identify it for you; I just don't know birds that well. The turkey vulture's five-foot wingspan seems about right, though—the bird I encountered was imposingly large.

BWJones: "There is a Lamborghini tractor currently up for auction. I must say, it is beautiful, in a form-follows-function sort of way. And I like the paint scheme."

Nikon's New Z5

Working with the Z5. Illustration courtesy of B&H Photo.

When Nikon's new Z5 was announced the other day, not quite two years after the rollout of the Z mount, I had to confront a disagreeable facet of my psychology: I think I'm reflexively more interested in products that aren't at the top end of the range.

I shouldn't be prejudiced; it makes no sense to be. But there it is. I find myself feeling much more enthused about the Z5 that I have been about the high-end, mega-megapixel cameras where the Bigs battle each other for bragging rights.

Tiny! But slow. But tiny!

Half a lens
And, knock me over with a feather—along with the new camera, Nikon actually introduced a new lens that is designed for small size and (actual, not just claimed!) compactness. The new Nikkor Z 24–50mm ƒ/4–6.3 is slow, which I think I don't mind because sensors have gotten so fast and we just don't need the same speed from our lenses we once did. But it's very small and handy. This from the company that rolled out a plain old 50mm ƒ/1.8 that is nearly three and a half inches long, weighs nearly fifteen ounces, and takes a relatively humongous 62mm filter. An exercise in optical perfection it is, but a nifty fifty it is not.

Of course, the 24–50mm is only half a normal zoom lens—it's missing the tele half. But hey, why not? You can use it as an "adjustable normal lens." My recent experience with Micro 4/3 lenses indicates that where I live, anyway, the reach of a 70mm-e zoom just isn't adequate for freedom; the 12–60mm I had with the GX9 really did allow me much more freedom and brought a whole new way of seeing within reach when taking pictures. If you can only go to 70mm, you might as well stop at 50mm and just acknowledge that you're going to need a separate companion lens in the tele zoom range. Good frinkin'.

Going to Lhasa
So now what Nikon needs to complement the new lens is a matching short telephoto. Something like a modern descendant of the famous E Series 75mm–150mm ƒ/3.5 lens would do. They can make that one slower, too, if it's also light and handy like the 24–50mm and not punishing to carry.

If you're not familiar with the old E Series 75–150mm from the 1980s (and why would you be?), it was a budget lens intended for amateurs that had a special optical quality—smooth, gentle, luminous—that fashion and pro portrait photographers loved. It made models' skin look fantastic, in the days before you could make them into whatever you wanted in Photoshop. Despite its "lesser" consumer status (unfortunately accompanied by lesser build quality—the one-touch zoom could get loose and creep after a while), it became a cult classic beloved of some very big-name fashion shooters who could have shot with any lens they wanted.

Not to mention that the legendary Galen Rowell favored it. He carried light lenses because he thought nothing of running for miles to get into position for a shot. If I'm not mistaken the much-admired cover photograph of his Mountains of the Middle Kingdom was shot with that lens. Used to be you could get a poster of it. Its title is "Rainbow Over the Potala Palace," the Potala Palace being in Lhasa.

Only on TOP do you start out reading about a new camera intro and end up in Tibet.

Anyway, more about the Z5 in the future, but I wanted to herald its arrival. It's only $1,400 at launch, so it's Nikon's answer to Canon's RP (which is admittedly even cheaper now because it's been out for a while). Looks good. But then, apparently I'm a hound for less expensive cameras in the more practical, utilitarian region of a product range. Even though it makes no sense for me to be like that.

Mike

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Albert Smith: "That Series E 75–150mm ƒ/3.5 lens was amazing, and not just because it was cheap. I bought one on a whim during its closeout for exactly one hundred bucks. I already had the classic 105mm ƒ/2.5 as well as the AIS 85mm ƒ/2 and 135mm ƒ/2, so I did not need the zoom. It was so good that it lived on my F3.

"That zoom and a second camera with a 35mm lens was all I needed for 90% of my shots.

"In Galen Rowell's book Mountain Light he gives the long narrative explanation of capturing that rainbow shot in Tibet. Great luck and timing. It would be hard to say the image would be better with a bigger more expensive lens...he had to jog to get the angle for the alignment before the rainbow faded. He stashed his gear and ran to the best spot with his F3 and the 75–150mm zoom. Before his death, it was his best selling image...made with this hundred-dollar lens."

Quote o' the Day: Robert Doisneau

"Tell me what other profession would have allowed me to enter both the lions' cage at the Vincennes Zoo and Picasso's studio?"

—Robert Doisneau, 1912–1994

-

Many great comments to the previous post—the comments are better than the post. Just thought we should add that historically at least, people in some cases got into photography because it would afford them access to things they otherwise wouldn't have had access too. This effect seems to be inexorably diminishing, though, as time goes by. In the 19th century, just by coming to town a photographer could be granted a level of access and cooperation that would astonish us today.

Here's something else I remembered with regard to access...Mort Rosenblum's story about the tank column and the Turnley twins.

(Thanks to MM)

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Richard Alan Fox: "At the end of the seventies I was a graduate student in photography at San Francisco State University. My mentor was Jack Welpott; his words of wisdom paraphrased after all these years were 'You will never earn a living from photography, but you will have an interesting life photographing.' He was and is correct."

Daniel: "The cameras have given me access and images from Richard Nixon to Debbie Harry to Joe Montana to Charlie Manson—among others. Interesting, yes. The old 'no one ever died wishing they had spent more time at work' doesn't apply here. Many moves through the years and always to locations that would give me access to what I found interesting for my cameras. From out current Comet to the kitchen sink—images are everywhere and the enjoyment of seeing—whether I photograph it or not—makes every day and location an adventure."

Access

We love cameras. I love cameras. It's an endlessly fascinating topic and my interest doesn't get exhausted. (For whatever reason—male apes like tools? I dunno.) BUT—and I deliberately made that a big "but," you see what I did there—the thing that by far has the most positive effect on my work is access. Do I have access to what I want to shoot, to the kinds of subject matter I like to make pictures of?

What that is is different for all of us, I suspect. Naturally there are common themes, because there are only so many themes (few enough, in fact, that motifs are beginning to become almost standardized in photography, as so many people take the same picture over and over again). But one photographer's meat is another photographer's poison (even if that poison is merely boredom), and what one photographer works hard to gain access to holds no interest for the next.

I've often wondered if this isn't the real benefit of a good idea. It unlocks a new avenue of access to the kind of thing we like to, and want to, shoot.

What are you happiest making pictures of—what kind of pictures have the highest satisfaction/gratification quotient for you—and do you have access to it? If you know the answer to the first riddle and can say "yes" to the second question, you're lucky indeed.

Cameras are great, cameras are fun, cameras can be talked about and fetishized and collected and mastered and that's all great. But having this camera or that one has seldom been the real determinant of whether I'm happy with my photographing or not.

Access—and just knowing what you'd like to have access to, which is sometimes a tough question—is much more important.

Mike

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Eli Burakian: "I was lucky enough to have had dinner with Steve McCurry and James Nachtwey a few years ago when they visited the college for which I'm the photographer. I don't remember conversations very well, but the one thing that has stuck with me about our discussion that evening was just that, access. They both kept on harping on the fact that it's who you know, how you interact, how you respect people and what skills you have learned to gain access that will inevitably determine your success in the field. They just kept on saying access, access, access. It was my key takeaway from the evening. So many non-professional photographers think that what makes professionals are their skill at the craft. Although that is true, you need to be a good photographer to get the job done, the real skill is being there to get the shot in the first place. Skill is the beginning not the end. Technical knowledge can be learned from YouTube. Being in the right place at the right time (with the right people) is the real skill."

JOHN B GILLOOLY: "Access is king. The luck, or skill, of getting access is more important than camera skills in almost all cases. Bruce Davidson's access to his gang. Who had the inside access to Ali, the Kennedys, the President, or the beaches at Normandy. Sometimes it's pure luck but mostly it is being in the right place, recognizing that fact, and having the skills to then take advantage of that access. Pete Souza's access to President Obama. He's a very good photographer who was afforded access that no other person in the world had. His images are truly unique in that way.

"There are some things that I would love to shoot. First and foremost, an extended behind the scenes documentary project of U2—maybe making an album or on tour. I absolutely love the images of Jim Marshall and Anton Corbijn—the type of images that can only be shot off the stage, with trust and some level of invisibility. The real life of these people. I happen to be a longtime U2 fan so they would be my clear choice for this project. And I know, at this point in my photographic life, that I could bring value to that project—do it justice.

"Access is also crucial for everyday work. When I photograph PGA events, I have credentials that give me access to shoot the event. But if I happen to be buddies with Tiger and had access to him beyond the event, now you have something special. Now you have an opportunity to make images that are special. I have made images in surgery, construction sites, classrooms, boardrooms, and in the offices of mayors and governors and presidents. Sitting between the active runways at a major airport.

"Access is the starting point for that stuff."

Patrick Dodds: "A stage, some lights, some actors and actresses. Heaven."

Davide Saxe: "Interesting article, Mike. I have always been interested in shooting personal documentaries, and I noticed many years ago the there was something missing from my photographs. After researching the subject for a while, I also discovered that the problem was one of access. Most good photojournalists have the ability to meet local people, gain access to their homes and businesses, and find those special places off the beaten track—places that tourists and amateurs will never discover on their own. To do this, many of them employed 'fixers'—individuals who had local knowledge of the people, their customs, and language. These 'fixers' were very familiar with the area, could arrange the payment of bribes, if necessary—whatever it took to get their guys through the front door and get the story.

"In my case this was not possible because I was not on assignment, was not on an expense account, and did not stay long enough in one place to make it worth my while. Besides, I had no idea where to find these 'fixers' because I had no professional contacts who could point me to them. So I did the next best thing. I started going on photo workshops, led by professional photographers whose work I respected. The photographer leading the workshop would became the 'fixer' who knew the location, could get me in the front door, and take care of the translating and other details. They could do this quite easily because they had been photographing the same people in the same location for years and were very familiar with the area. It worked like a charm and as a result, I ended up shooting in people’s homes, homeless shelters, small village ceremonies, religious processions, and many other areas that I would have never stumbled across as a traveler or tourist on my own.

"By watching and learning from the workshop leaders, as they navigated through these issues of access, I learned to adapt some of these techniques and apply them to my current projects at home."

PhotoDes: "Lately (cooped up indoors) I have been experimenting with the art of still life photography. I know it's not at the top of the list for most but it has a place in the art world. Four things I've learned: lighting is full of subtlety, when tempered with flags, diffusers, reflectors, feathering, etc; backgrounds can distract more than any mistake in lighting; small-sensor cameras can be more useful than large sensor cameras for fine-tuning DOF in close-ups; and composition trumps everything else. The smallest change in the smallest object often differentiates the good and the bad. It's an enjoyable challenge."

Mike replies: The flip side of access to what you really want to shoot is to figure out what you do have access to and see if you can figure out a way to make interesting work out of it. Good for you for trying still life. It's better to work than not to.

JOHN B GILLOOLY: "I think there is also another kind of access that hasn't really been discussed. As it relates to photographing people, particularly strangers, but even with people known to us. There is a great amount of human work involved in the process of getting close; getting into a scene to the point where you are within it. Photographing people from very close quarters requires gaining a certain amount of access—and the images from there are different.

"The old quote from Robert Capa, 'If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough.' For most people, this process of getting close, and then closer still, is a very difficult, if not impossible, thing. The ability to move closer is a type of access that is available to all of us, but not many people can actually do it. Very little to do with your photographic skills and much more to do with your people skills. Your personality type.

"My most enjoyable days shooting are the days where I have the energy, time, motivation and will to get in there and engage. There is a certain rush to that process. The process of moving in, taking that risk, getting close, gaining access. It reminds me of making that move to chat up a girl when you are a teenager! Similar risk/reward proposition. Similar excitement of the unknown."

[Ed. note: This is one of the few times in 15 years I've featured two entirely separate comments from the same person on the same post. I should have let John write the post! This is another dimension to the idea of access and a very important one.]

TC: "In 2014 I was standing at the bottom of a ladder that led to the second-story window through which students had taken over Taiwan's Legislature in protest of a China trade bill. It was historic, and, though I'm not a reporter, I am Taiwanese, and was curious to see what life was like inside. Could I go up? 'Are you a reporter?' The students manning the ladder asked me. I shook my head. 'I'm just a photographer.' 'Can we see your work?' Fortunately thanks to the advice of my friend Richard Bram, I kept a small book of my work on me. I handed it up. Several minutes later, the students reappeared, motioning me up the ladder. 'You can come in.' It wasn't my camera that had given me access, but the work I'd done with it."

Mike replies: It impressed me that Joel Meyerowitz, when he was making his book of pictures of redheads on the beaches of Cape Cod, used as his bonafides a copy of his book Cape Light that he carried around in a paper grocery bag. When he was requesting permission to photograph his subjects he used the book to reveal to them that he was what he said he was. The book showed him to be a dedicated photographer who other people took seriously.

Of course, not all of us have a famous perpetual bestseller to put into the bag in the first place—Cape Light is hugely popular and has never been out of print—but your experience shows us that the principle holds with an honest example of your own work.

John: "You're right about access being key, but it also points to an unfair world. For example, I know of one international organization some years ago that wouldn't give any photographer access to a no-go zone, but made an exception for National Geographic. Or Herb Ritts happening to be friends with Richard Gere. Would his career have taken off if they weren't friends?"

HABS HAER Photographer Stephen Schafer: "I wrote a short chapter on access in my snarky book. (Copied here.) You have to have time and access, and both are more important than gear. I'd rather have access to a subject with a phone-cam than a Leica and no subject.

Chapter 59. What does Brad Pitt have in common with the International Space Station? You’re not allowed near either one.

Access is your second most valuable commodity. Though it’s rarely mentioned, every pro has a wish list of people or places she wants to photograph, but can’t. You may have lucid dreams about photographing your favorite rock star, imagining how you’d pose them and light them and which lens you’d use. On the other hand, when that rock star hears his publicist scheduled another photo session he thinks, 'Crap, what a hassle. I hate photo shoots! How can I get out of it?'

When I wanted to photograph one of the most famous houses in Southern California, I spent many nights going to architecture events and eating rubber chicken at fundraisers, trying to meet the owner and having people introduce me so I could make small talk. She eventually decided to take me seriously, and gave me access to the house for three days, dawn to dusk. Hell yeah! (It only took two years.)

The things you want to photograph most are people you don’t know and places you can’t go. If you want to create images of celebrities, important people, exotic landscapes or exclusive places, you will find that having access can make or break your photography and you’ll be working far longer and harder to get access than during the three minutes you are granted with your favorite rock star for his portrait.

Animesh Ray: "I agree that for me access is very important. However, access can also be psychological access. I felt quite free in India in the 1970s to shoot people on the streets, as I felt I knew them well and could access their mind. When I came to the West, for almost two decades I was virtually paralyzed despite my best effort, because I couldn't access the people on the streets, psychologically speaking. This changed slowly. Some people, however, can access different levels of reality no matter where they are. Gueorgui Pinkhassov is one...his Instagram photos are examples of easy access in unlikely places. Another example is Sohrab Hura's work from his one-room apartment in New Delhi during the last few months that he has been confined there due to COVID-19 restrictions."

Sunday Support Group: Guide to Good Used Cameras

A reader who's also a Patreon supporter asked me the other day if I could please do a guide to used cameras. Most cameras over the past few years are pretty good, and a lot of them have a lot of life in them yet. What are the good bargains?

I regret to say that, much as I might wish to, I can't comply. First problem: I haven't used all used cameras, namely, the main cameras introduced over the past six or eight years. Secondly, I haven't researched which ones are inexpensive on the used market right now.

The list would be dynamic anyway, unfortunately. The used market for cameras is fickle. Years ago, when a friend bought his Leica, I tracked prices of that particular model for a few years just out of curiosity. The prices ran in very distinct cycles—for a while prices would be high, then low, then they'd ramp up again. (My friend got his for $600, if memory serves, compliments of a dent on the back of the top plate that made it unappealing to collectors and perfectionists. When collectors drive up the prices of equipment, you always wanted to look for something like a nice dent that discourages their interest.) The prices seemed to be not so much the result of fluctuations in demand as to the fact that that model just went in and out of style. I'm sure people who play the stock market know about that...it's the old "hot/not" dichotomy, which sometimes tracks with actual value and sometimes doesn't.

I've already vented plenty of times about items like the Olympus OM Zuiko 40mm ƒ/2 and the Minolta CLE, to which excessively high prices have clung like skunk-stink. Such items appear immune to the market. Owners just think they're valuable and that they should bring a high price, and that's that. You seldom see things like that bargain priced.

A denizen of the Pentax List once got tired of a certain lens being touted as "rare" and actually collected and collated the data. Turned out the lens was the second most common lens on the Pentax used market at the time! No matter. The conventional wisdom was that it was "rare," and everyone repeated it because everyone repeated it, and therefore it had to be priced high.

If you're looking for bargains, such things are the opposite of what you want to be looking for.

You can have just as much fun with a IIIc

One more issue in valuing things I've noticed over the years is that the last revision of anything tends to retain a premium in pricing. Doesn't matter when it was released; the gearhead brain latches on to "later = better." That's even true of the Leica IIIg, the swan song of the screwmount Leica introduced when the M3 was already in production...in 1956! I wasn't even born. The IIIg wasn't even very characteristic of the rest of the screwmount "Barnack cameras," because of its improvements. Still, later = better, even if all the tech is thoroughly ancient in any case, and IIIg's command a premium to this day. Bargain hunters should look at something more plentiful and common like the IIIc.

Name one
If it's something I don't know, it's hard to recommend. Is a Canon 7D a good bargain? They're cheap; they were relatively high end when new; but I don't know how well they've held up, and I haven't used one so I don't know how good they are or not, or whether they have specific issues.

You see the problem. I'd hate to recommend something not knowing whether it might create headaches for new owners.

One of the few used cameras I can recommend right now is the Fuji X-T1. It was Fuji's flagship camera when it was new, and it's now been reiterated three successive times, so it's well out of date. It doesn't have the latest 24-MP sensor. Speed, in several parameters, is lower than the current versions.

However, they're cheap now, and mine has held up very well. I've used it enough that there's "brassing" on some of the knobs and surfaces, but nothing has broken. I don't baby it, either. I find its speed to be more than adequate for the kind of shooting I do. The high-speed continuous is still good for firing a little burst at people to avoid blinks, and I actually like the slower bracket shooting speed better—I don't know why, I guess because it lets me see each image as it goes by. For B&W, I actually like the old 16-MP sensor better than the new one, and there's nothing wrong with 16 megapixels for most users who don't make prints approaching 16x20 inches (A2) in size.

And they're cheap. Nice and cheap. To get a snapshot of pricing I always check the "Sold Items" on eBay, not current listings. Prices for the body only seem to be running between $250 and $350, and even some with a lens or the battery grip or for the "silver graphite" special edition are within that range. A body-only with a "very low shutter count" of 730 exposures (someone's backup?) but with a few cosmetic issues recently sold for $284.70.

If you just take pictures, and aren't concerned with status, that's one bargain.

I like mine with the Fuji MHG-XT Large handgrip. My X-T1 lives in the car now, in case I see something interesting when I'm on the road. Of course, I've only used two tanks of gas since March, so both the car and the car camera are seeing low usage these days, but that's COVID, not the camera.

Anyway, if you were to compile a Guide to Good Used Cameras, that's the kind of bargain you'd be looking to highlight. You want something that was good when it was new, has held up well since then, and that isn't being overvalued by the market.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

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MarkB: "...Three...two...one...aaand the price of used Fuji X-T1's has gone up thanks to the TOP-effect of mentioning it as a bargain.  ;-) "

The Virus Is a Hawk

[You can share this essay with friends by mailing or texting them this link: https://tinyurl.com/y228evwn ]

Guest essay written by Ctein

Outside of our bedroom window, at the edge of the cliff that overlooks the ocean, is a very large fir tree* that is home to an unkindness** of ravens. Some years ago it hosted two ravens, then three, as ravens are inclined to make more ravens. Now there appear to be eight or nine; I've lost count. Come trash-collection day they wander up and down the street, methodically checking out trash bins for ones that are overflowing. Ravens are extremely opportunistic omnivores.

They are also carnivores and predators. As such they compete for the same eco-niche as the local red-tailed hawks, and there is little love lost between them. (It's also possible that the hawks attempt to prey on the ravens' chicks, so even less reason for endearment.)

Periodically they also compete for airspace, because the hawks' favorite updraft from the sea is not all that far away from the ravens' tree. For birds, it is not good fences but great distances that make good neighbors. This distance is not great enough.

The hawks and ravens are similar in size (red-tailed hawks are among the largest hawks) but there is no question that ravens are stronger, smarter, and more aerobatically adept. They've also got considerably more attitude. They initiate the aerial conflicts.

Two or three of the ravens will soar above the hawk and swoop down on it, sweeping to one side of the very last moment. Neither species wants actual physical contact, which could prove fatal. It's all about intimidation.***

Sometimes the ravens whirl and loop. There is considerable vocalization. In action and words they say to the hawk, "Look, we are superior in every respect, physically and mentally. You are overshadowed. Take a hike."

The hawk's sole response is to slide to one side in the updraft, issuing an irritated "keeee." The ravens regroup, soar up, and swoop down on the hawk again. They repeatedly demonstrate—in terms that even a groundhugging human could understand—that the hawk is outclassed and should relinquish its airspace. Repeatedly the hawk slip-slides to one side or the other, issuing annoyed cries, and continuing to focus its limited attention and prodigious eyesight on the ground. It is looking for prey, and nothing else is on its tiny mind.

This can go on for as long as 20 minutes. By raven—and human—sensibilities, it shouldn't be any contest. The ravens win on style and points. They are clearly the superior predator, and deserve the win. The problem—for the ravens—is that while the ravens are challenging the hawk to a duel and demonstrating unquestionably superior prowess, the hawk is only thinking, "food, hunting for food, quit bugging me, hunting food."

Finally, the ravens give up—they get frustrated and, worse, bored. They go off to find some more entertaining mischief, and the hawk continues doing what it's been doing all along.

The hawk wins every time because it isn't even playing the game!

I feel like the ravens do. I am tired and I'm bored and I'm frustrated and depressed and, most of all, exhausted by four months of navigating through this Brave New World, of living in Plague Times. God knows I've done my part, more than my part. I need a break.

Unfortunately, the virus is a hawk. It doesn't care that our only ways of suppressing it are socio-political, it doesn't care that some people are wrapping themselves in the flags of politics around this. It doesn't care that we, individually and collectively, are frustrated and bored and figuratively sick of it all, and really badly in need of a f*ckin' break.

COVID-19 is not a raven. Our only tools may be sociopolitical, but it's not a political opponent. Just because we're tired doesn't mean it's tired, or that we've worn it down one bit. It's the same hawk it always was, doing the same hawkish things.

If we go back to "old normal" because, well, we've put in a Really Good Fight, it will reassert itself just as vigorously as it did in March. Incidence doubling times of 4.5 to 5 days. Compound interest being what it is, that becomes a ten-fold increase in two weeks, a hundred-fold in a month. The consequences of that, in humanitarian and economic (both!) terms are so catastrophic that they make the last four months look like a cakewalk.

Well, we're not being quite that stupid; we're not going back to the old normal. We're going to a "new normal." It makes a big difference; these days we're looking at doubling times of 3–4 weeks. That's a whole lot better, except—compound interest! Caseloads don't increase by tenfold in two weeks, but they do in three months. By year's end we're back to catastrophe: humanitarian, economic.

Exponential growth is a bitch. Mongo no like exponent > 1.

We don't have the luxury of letting down our guards and relaxing our extraordinarily inconvenient and uncomfortable protections because we are exhausted (and, make no mistake, we are exhausted). The hawk just hovers in the updraft, thinking its minimal, hawkish thoughts and waiting for hawkish opportunity.

Topic Two! How to tell good science from bad, revisited

I wrote a couple of columns some years back about things that laypeople could do to figure out if the information they were being fed was good science or not, even if they lacked expertise in the area. I offered textual, contextual, and meta- tools that would help sort the wheat from the chaff. Here are links to those two columns:

Bad Science vs. Good Science: A Guide for the Layperson (Part 1)

Bad Science vs. Good Science: A Guide for the Layperson (Part 2)

I'm going to add an additional tip that wasn't in those columns: good scientists will not intentionally lie to you.

Yes, scientists will get things wrong. Science is only an approximation of our universe and one way to think of it is as an ongoing process of error correction, where every step of the way we try to reduce our misunderstandings and ignorance. But it's not like we've found the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything (actually, I live at that address****), so sometimes they will tell you things that turn out to be incorrect.

But, they will never outright lie to you. If you catch someone lying to you, really lying to you, they are not doing good science. Doesn't matter what degrees they hold, who they are affiliated with, what reputation they have. They are not Good Scientists, they are Bad.

There are people out there telling you that you should not wear masks to reduce the spread of COVID-19. That wearing a mask is, at the least, ineffectual and at the worst, dangerous.

They are liars. This is not a matter of opinion; it is not a matter for debate. There are not "good people on both sides" of this question. Saying masks aren't effective is like saying the earth is flat or that HIV doesn't cause AIDS or that vaccines cause autism. It is a blatant lie, contradicted by real medical knowledge.

Some people are saying this out of woeful, misinformed ignorance. Others are saying it with conscious, malign intent. Irrelevant. Either way, what they are doing is lying to you. If they are lying about something this obvious, there is a good chance they are lying about other things that will not be so obvious. They are untrustworthy and you should not be relying on them for information.

Cut them out of your life. Close the browser tab, delete the bookmark, don't read them ever again. Any information they present that's correct you'll be able to find in a dozen other places. You won't lose a single thing of value and you will reduce your risk of being lied to further.

In the meantime, wear the %^$#@! mask when you go out. Yes it's annoying, and mildly uncomfortable, and a nuisance, and a constant, extremely unpleasant reminder that we are living in Plague Times, like a little finger incessantly poking you in the face repeating, "Don't forget, don't forget, don't forget, don't forget." I hate that!

Well, I don't know anybody who likes it. But, y'know, on the scale of inconveniences and annoyances that this pandemic has subjected us to, it's way down on the list.

This hawk is very single-mindedly focussed on being a hawk, but a mask makes its life considerably more difficult.

That is your Public Service Announcement for this time. In next month's newsletter I will return to less fraught and contemporary matters.

Probably.

pax / Ctein

[Ed. note: Originally published in "Ctein's (New and Improved) Occasional Newsletter," July 9, 2020.Seems Ctein noticed a rush of signups for his newsletter on Wednesday, suspected TOP, came here, and found my mention of his essay. Last night he kindly offered to allow me to republish the essay here. Thanks to Ctein, and I hope you enjoyed this. You can sign up for his future newsletters at ctein.com.]

[ADDENDUM Sunday morning: If this article didn't go into enough specifics about masks for you, see Ctein's reply to Gerard in the Comments section. Both together are a bit long to be Featured Comments but there is useful detail there.]

*Paula says it is a Monterey Cypress. I say if it's got little pointy leaf things and cones, it's a fir tree. OK, not a botanist.

**Yes, that is the collective noun for ravens, in contrast to a "murder" of crows. I'm not sure why; perhaps someone considered ravens—unsupported by observation—to be more genteel.

***I did consider describing it as a game of aerial chicken, but that seemed too groan-worthy. So I didn't, he said contradictorily.

****Ed. note: Ctein's address is 42 Skyline Drive. He is, among many other talents, a writer, lecturer, and fan of science fiction a.k.a. speculative fiction, and the number 42 has implications amongst fans of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series.

Original contents copyright 2020 by Ctein. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

Thanks to everyone who supports TOP through Patreon!

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Andy Holman: "A great piece on COVID and corvids!"

Aashish Sharma: "This article made my day! Reading something new from Ctein usually does, and this one was no exception. Love the clear and direct writing with a hint of humor. I only want to say thanks for the advice on masks, and that I'm delighted to know you are a Douglas Adams fan like me.  :-)  I will eagerly wait for the next one."

Scott: "Living in an area where I watch 'our' crows do this all the time, I was rapt (sorry, had to say it) by your article and then loved the pivot to talking about the virus. A superbly written article in my opinion and also the truth. The virus is truly the hawk. I know this from my pertinent scientific background and also deep study of medical history. Bravo."

Blue-Sky Forum-y Fantasizing

This post is the sort of thing that really belongs on a forum: it's mere blue-sky fantasizing. But I'd like to sketch out an alternate concept of the marketing of cameras. (Blue-skying means to "make impractical or as-yet unachievable plans.")

Let's say you had one really robust, well-tested, well developed camera design, like, for example, the Fuji X-T[x] series. You'll notice that in the X-T4, the addition of video capabilities from the X-H1 extended to a physical change in the camera body, namely the replacement of the two-way tilting screen with a flip-out articulating version which is believed to be more appropriate for video shooting. (Not sure why. But that's beside the point.)

Now, I happen to have a really pretty strong preference there. I like flip-up screens that stay in line with the optical axis, and I really quite dislike flip-out screens. I thought Fuji's screen in the X-T2 and X-T3 was, well, perfect—a really nice design, nicely implemented, and thus a settled matter. In other words, in my view, they had it just right, and absolutely shouldn't ever have changed it.

But change it they did. They threw out what I thought was a perfect feature and adopted an alternative that I consider a negative on any camera that has it.

Nooooooo! Why?!?

Although I own a camera now with the old-style screen (the X-H1), this single move has thrown into doubt my eventual future with Fuji. Seems extreme to say such a thing, but it might even be true. As things stand, I'm not tempted by the X-T4 because it has the wrong kind of screen.

Of course, either way, Fuji loses. Some customers want it one way, some want the other.

But it got me to thinking. Why can't one camera be offered several different ways?

It would be a way of getting away from this infernal "include-everything" problem that cameramakers seem to be mired in. That is, all cameras seem to have to do everything that any user would possibly want to do with them. The kitchen sink mentality. On gear forums, nothing is more damning that a missing feature, a missing capability. To me, it's the opposite. Everything but the kitchen sink always means the camera is cluttered, crippled and compromised by having to do too many things.

I'd rather have separate tools, thanks.

I know there would be practical business-related problems, and maybe those are prohibitive. But let's put that aside for a moment and imagine.

I'm picturing something like the "à la carte" program that Leica had for its M cameras for a while (and maybe still, I don't know). Imagine you could just have your choice of a flip-up screen like the X-T3's, or a flip-out screen like the X-T4's.

While we're at it, how about a choice of sensors: X-Trans, Bayer, or monochrome.

You could choose versions with or without video. If you had asked me 25 years ago if still cameras would ever incorporate camcorders, I might have said, well, maybe half of them.

As many as that.

With or without IBIS.

How about a "stripper" model? A stripped-down version just for stills, and with all the non-essential features left off and the controls and menus simplified. A single, fixed-blade knife, so to speak, in the context of the illustration above—do they still make those? I think they do. Call that one the SK for Strassenkamera, street camera. The sports car variant.

I know, "everybody wants a different mix of features." But Leica does it, and not to cut costs, obviously. And if you want all the features, GPS and tether-readiness and microphone and what all and what not, just buy the full-featured version. (I do acknowledge that forums would always have people complaining bitterly that they had to buy the full-featured version just to get one weird feature they wanted.)

You could go hog-wild with this...different finishes, different size grips. At some point surely it becomes untenable. But then I already said from the start that maybe it's untenable. We're daydreaming here.

Sony already does a sorta-kinda version of this, what with all the different versions of the A6[xxx] and A7 series. Fuji's models are astutely judged for the most part and give customers a range of options.

But that blue sky. It's broad, and beautiful, ain't it?

Me, I miss cameras that were just cameras. (My father used to call me a "purist," and he meant it as an insult.)

Mike
(Top image courtesy B&H Photo)

ADDENDUM: Several commenters mentioned that flip-up screens are useless for verticals, which made me think they might not remember that the Fuji X-T2, X-T3, and X-H1 screens can be tilted in vertical orientation too:

Remember also that I'm not saying anyone shouldn't prefer flip-out screens. There's no right or wrong. It's just personal preference. The Fuji solution just seemed ideal to me personally, is all. I really like it. It's perplexing to me that Fuji moved away from it. 

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Kodachromeguy: "Re 'I miss cameras that were just cameras': That's why I use a Rolleiflex, Hasselblad, and a Leica M2. Mechanical precision and no froufrou."

SteveW:

Mr. Blue Sky please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long (so long)
Where did we go wrong?

 

Hugh: "Purists like the flippy screen—like that on the Canon RP—because you can turn it in so you don't see it while you are taking pictures, and so it's better protected.  ;-)  "

 

John Camp: "I wonder if the 'engineering mind' might not be implicated in this. Engineers are very good at things like adding features that would ostensibly give more value to customers, and are whooped along by the marketing people who are always looking for something new to sell. Microsoft Word now has so many wonderful features it's virtually unusable—I have been working with it for thirty years now, and I sometimes hit a keystroke that sends me somewhere I can't get out of. Why does Apple come out with a new Mac operating system every year or so, and even give it away free, when it mostly just frustrates users, often obsoletes some useful third-party software, and always has bugs that take most of a year to eliminate? Robust articulating screens are engineering wonders and the fact that a lot of people don't like them is just...wrong thinking, probably by Liberal Arts majors. [Ooooh, dig. —Ed.]

"I mentioned a couple of days ago that I think camera companies make what they hope will sell, rather than what they can sell. I think Olympus might still be one company if instead of coming out with a clunky, expensive full-frame sized camera with a Micro 4/3 sensor, they'd focused on making small, jewel-like cameras that people would love and that would exploit a pretty wonderful system of Micro 4/3 lenses and didn't cost an arm and a leg. I think they did it because a big body like the OM-Whatever IV could include every feature known to mankind, though nobody wants a camera with every feature known to mankind. But I bet it really appealed to the engineers and the marketeers, leaving photographers scratching their asses and wondering what just happened.

"Don't get me started on Sony menus...."

Sylvain G.: "It's interesting to see that the personal computer 'PC' industry—somehow—managed that tour de force. Extremely complex components and a plethora of possible compatible combinations thanks to—roughly—standard 'interface specifications.' And on top of that, an extra layer of customization: the operating system and its softwares. Brilliant when one thinks of it. We're nowhere near this in the photo industry but I'm not comparing nor would I dare to. It's just that, very often, I wished I could change the software easily (can't tell you how long I had to wait to see actual usable auto ISO implementations...). I also had this itch very very often for the hardware too in the same fashion as you described: monochrome, no screen, etc.... As you said many times, cameras look more and more like computers, perhaps this will turn out to be our luck."

Bill Pearce (partial comment): "The swivel ones are to aid in selfies. So, one bad practice begets another."

Christer: "If the car manufacturers can offer a wide choice (petrol or diesel, two doors or four or five, manual transmission or automatic, sunroof or not, just to mention a few) why can't Nikon, Canon et al?"

Herb Cunningham: "If the camera companies did not have an unending number of features, they would have to lay off a bunch of engineers and marketing people—wait, wouldn't that save money???"

Richard Man: "You want the spiritual descendant of the Olympus MDN.  :-)  "

Bear.: "Well my blue sky camera was just announced—the Leica M10R—it is exactly what I was looking for. The only serious issue I foresee is that I can't afford one."

Shannon Scott: "Whoa, hold on, wait a minute. Another commenter implied that the current state of cameras was caused by the engineers. I’m an experienced engineer; I can tell you that's not the case. I've spent my career (so far) in many, many meetings, where the marketing team has a checklist of all the competitor's features, where the marketing team points out any features we don’t have ('if we don’t have feature X, we will get killed in the market'). In the not-too-distant past, I was on an otherwise-successful project that was eventually torpedoed (technical team left the company, project cancelled) for no other reason than the lead marketer convinced upper management that we were missing a key feature. The feature was, unfortunately, incompatible with the underlying technology, and there was just no practical (or impractical) way to add the feature.

"In my experience, if engineers were allowed to design products, we would have things much closer to what Mike describes. Most engineers I know (myself probably included) are single-minded purists (maybe to a fault). We would rather perfect a few features, rather than add more features. For example, look at the tools engineers use. They tend to be single-use tools, that are very precisely fit to the problem. They also tend to be very expensive. And not very user friendly for non-experts. On the other hand, software such as, for example, Word, tends to drive engineers crazy, with its inconsistent hodgepodge of features.

"If engineers where free to design cameras, we would have no autofocus, no exposure program modes. All cameras would be all manual all the time. They would do one thing, and do it well(-ish). You would buy multiple cameras if you need more functionality ('oh no, I have to buy another camera' is not a phrase a technical-type would ever utter, except in jest). They would also be expensive, probably, to be honest. Think something like NASA when you wonder what engineers/scientists/etc will do when left to their own devices.

"So, just a hypothesis: is the real problem with the state of cameras that photography is no longer the domain of experts? Everyone has a camera now, and the marketing teams are trying to make everyone happy and sell more cameras (that is their job, after all)."

Bill Tyler: "The car comparisons remind me of the car I liked the best of all the ones I've owned. It was a 1962 MG Midget with no frills at all. The turn signal control was a three-position switch in the middle of the dash—you had to reset it manually, because it had no idea that you'd made the turn. To run the heater, you opened the hood (bonnet?), opened a valve that let hot water into the heater, and then drove on. I suspect the heater was an optional accessory. But that car was fun to drive. I finally sold it when the crankshaft broke."

Mike replies: My next-door neighbor in Wisconsin rebuilt an MG Midget. For years it was a heap of parts in his garage and I assumed it always would be, because that's what would have happened if it had been mine. But one Summer he and his teenage son went to work on it and five or six weeks later they had a completely restored, beautiful, working MG Midget that the son would drive around the neighborhood. I'm still kind of impressed, thinking back on it.

Open Mike: Thank a Nurse

["Open Mike" is the often off-topic, anything-goes Editorial Page of TOP, wherein Yr. Hmbl. Ed. vents opinions. It appears on Wednesdays.]

-

I just had a conversation "offstage" with a reader who's a nurse. Thoughtful guy. And it just struck me that, for all we like to thank military people for their service in this country, right now it's nurses, doctors, and other health professionals who have been on, and are on, the front lines. It would not seem out of place to say to an ER doc or nurse or EMT, "thank you for your service."

Where would we be without them?

Cuomo comes through
Here in New York State the news has been very good and getting better. A world hotspot just a few months ago, with massive infections, mounting deaths, and hospitals and health providers under enormous strain, New York on Monday had just 860 COVID-19 hospitalizations throughout the entire State. The State conducted 60,045 tests on Monday, of which 912 (1.5%) were positive. Six New Yorkers died on Monday of the disease.

That's from yesterday's "NYS Coronavirus Update," which I get in my inbox daily.

The State has done this the hard way: by assiduously doing mostly the right things, following the recommendations of health experts, and through good, consistent, firm leadership. Many people here might have thought our Governor, Andrew Cuomo, was distant and kind of hard, a bit of a cold fish. But he has risen to this occasion admirably. For the most part he's done a thoroughly excellent job throughout the crisis here. He came through when it counted. We had leadership at the State level which is so sorely lacking at the national level.

Here in my county—the third-least-populous in the State, and largely rural—we haven't had a new case identified in several weeks. There have been 48 known positives (probably many more unidentified). Six deaths in total so far. But there haven't been any additional deaths lately. (We do have some "anti-maskers" here and there—citizens behaving badly. There's no room for personal interpretation: wearing masks in public and at group functions is mandated.)

Curiosity
I want to get the COVID-19 antibody test. I'm just curious. I was sick last Winter with a very strange malady unlike any I've ever had before. It was definitely respiratory, with a dry cough that would come and go. Several times I had coughing fits so bad I thought I was going to have to go to the Emergency Room. Twice I spiked a fever which then went away abruptly. The sickness hung on for more than six weeks, also a first in my life. I went to the doctor's office twice during that time, and the second time, my primary care physician, who's a good diagnostician I believe, said it looked like I had gotten one sickness on top of another one.

As soon as we heard about the coronavirus, my first thought was "aha, so that was it." Then I did the timeline and thought, no, that couldn't have been it, because I was sick too early. But later they began saying that maybe the coronavirus was here a lot earlier than they first believed...and I remember what the doctor said about it being one sickness on top of another. I've ended up thinking that there's a non-zero chance it was what I had. So, mainly because I'm interested to know, I'm going to go try to find out. I have to pay for it myself, though. (Curiousity doesn't make it medically necessary.)

My son who tested positive has had no further complications, thank God. He quarantined for two weeks after being diagnosed, but he was already feeling fine when his quarantine started. No further symptoms in the weeks since.

Ctein and the unkindness of ravens
Lastly on this subject, if you receive Ctein's Occasional Newsletter, be sure to read the essay "Birds and Bad Science" in the July 9th newsletter. I loved it. One of the best things he's written in my opinion. (Not on the Internet, so no link, but you can sign up for the newsletter at his site.) I loved the bird story. It might be the most involved analogy I've run across in some time, but it's great.

Mike

[ADDENDUM Thursday morning: I need to acknowledge that several readers have taken strenuous issue with parts of this post (one to the point of cancelling his Patreon support for this website). My view of them is that they have fallen for a false narrative from fake news, namely a right-wing meme that Fox News picked up from the partisan New York Post; they, on the other hand, think they are in possession of facts and I am not, that something very close to a crime has been perpetrated by the Governor, and that my judgment is extremely poor. So, okay. I did label this post "opinion" right from the top, but maybe we have something more elemental than a difference of opinion here—closer to conflicting beliefs. A microcosm of wider disunity. We are not going to fray everyone's nerves in an attempt to hash out the details in the Comments section, but to be fair I thought I should acknowledge their dissent.]

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

Please help support TOP through Patreon

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Fred Haynes: "I totally agree with this post on all levels! Add to the list those underpaid, largely foreign-born women and men who work as nurses aids, and clean and comfort the patients, and help them with their personal needs. In 2018 I was hospitalized for two months, and thank God for them all. There’s a special place in heaven for these people, I am sure."

Jamie Pillers: "I'd add public school teachers and administrators to this list of fellow citizens going above and beyond during the mess. They are having to deal with an amazingly tough array of problems right now, trying to make sure our kids get something even close to quality education. They're trying to deal with major problems around distance learning technology, social distancing, food service, etc."

Stephen F Faust: "The American Red Cross is testing all blood donations for COVID-19 antibodies (and of course letting the donor know the results) so if you are eligible and willing to donate, this is an excellent way to have the antibody test (at no cost) while at the same time doing enormous good for the community."

David Lee: "I agree with you on Ctein’s piece on birds. I actually copied and shared it. Just don’t tell him please...."

Rene: "Just a note of support for your opinion piece. Cuomo made some mistakes in the beginning (as did many others), but quickly corrected himself. Sure, he can look, and be, arrogant but he did the hard stuff well. I live in a State next door to you and am thankful for the actions he took which I'm sure influenced our Republican governor to move in the right direction.

"I say all this as a retired public health and health care professional with 40+ years of experience, not that such experience would matter to your former supporter. A lot of the work I did was in both infectious disease (started with the US Public Health Service in 1968) and in health education and, as I quickly learned, 'There are none so blind as those who will not see.'"

Hahnel ProCube2 Battery Charger

I keep meaning to mention how much I like the Hähnel ProCube2 battery charger as a home-based charger (I've never traveled with it).

It's just very nice to be able to charge two batteries at once, get a visual reading (I like visuals) on where each one is in the cycle, and get them charged up lickety-split.

Some people have said that fast charging wears out the batteries faster, but time is money too, as they say, and I'd rather have to wait less time for batteries to charge. It's convenient sometimes. Frankly I don't keep cameras long enough to wear out the batteries...at least I don't think that's ever happened to me yet. I'm still using the original battery that came with my Fuji X-T1 in 2014, for instance. So I'm not sure batteries wearing out early is a problem I care about. And by the way, if I use the old X-T1 battery in the the new Fuji X-H1, there's actually a little box that pops up in the viewfinder telling me to use the newer type of battery because the older ones drain too fast in the new camera! So, as a practical matter, you're probably going to want to use the latest batteries in the future anyway. [UPDATE: Stephen S. says it's because the older batteries catch fire in the new camera...yikes. Guess I won't be mixing batteries in the future.] But even if the ProCube2 does shorten the life of batteries overall, I'm okay with that conceptually. I'll take the tradeoff, if it exists. Your mileage may vary if you're a heavy shooter and routinely run batteries down.

My ProCube2 on my charging station on the basement landing

Actually I'm not completely sure why I like this thing so much, to be honest. Maybe there's no rational reason for it. I just like it. Makes me feel in control of "charging hygiene" I guess.

The link here and at the top is to the Fuji/Panasonic version. Hähnel also makes versions of the same product for Nikon, Sony, Canon, and Olympus. I've never used those.

Oh, and by the way, there's an exchangeable top plate that allows you to charge rechargeable AAs in it, too.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

Please help support The Online Photographer through Patreon

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Ronny A Nilsen: "I have one as well, and I love it! There is something about a charger that tells you exactly what it's doing, and how much the batteries are charged, compared to some blinking light that only gives you a slight clue at to how things are coming along."

Moose (partial comment): "Re 'I've never traveled with it': Travel has been, until this year, my primary use of chargers. For me, this one is oversize, overweight and overpriced."

Mike replies: I possibly should have acknowledged that I got this as a gift, and thus never made any calculation about its price.

Ken Bennett: "I adore the ProCube chargers. I have two of them for my Fuji system, and got one for our multimedia guy for his Sonys. I like having the charger on my desk, not stuck into a wall outlet somewhere. I can see the charger, the level of charge, and doing two at a time is great."

William Schneider: "I'm a fan of a similar device, the Watson Duo LCD Charger. It can charge two different batteries simultaneously with its interchangeable battery plates. I have plates for Nikon, Panasonic, and Fuji cameras that I mix and match. The best part is the USB 2.0 charging port on the side for phones, or even for slow-charging batteries inside some camera bodies like my D780. It comes with a 12v automobile cigarette lighter adapter too."

Canon R6 and R5: Mike's Take

Thanks for all the great responses to the Canon R6 and R5 post the other other day. My own idiosyncratic personal reactions to the Canon R6 and R5:

• Canon has really changed lensmounts—again! But with much (much) less fanfare (not to mention less sturm und drang and the tearing of hair and rending of garments) than in 1987 (the beginning of EOS), if only because they haven't at the same time killed the EF mount. The SLRs will march on for now. But development seems to have veered into full-frame mirrorless (FFM). Is the EF mount in the early stages of "dead man walking" status? (This is the way Olympus's original 4/3 departed, you recall.)
• Each time I read the description—clearly guided by Canon—of the new 85mm ƒ/2 R Macro as "compact," I want to do a spit-take with my white tea and lemon. That beast is a brute. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but yer killin' me—stop with the "compact" adjective already. Not.
• My initial reaction is that the R6 and R5 would each be keenly priced at half their actual introductory prices. C'mon, they're Canons, not designer Leica specials with goat-scrotum leather coverings. Some economist I read long ago claimed that peoples' conception of money becomes fixed around age 50, in which case the value of money might be stuck at 2007 in my head. So maybe it's my fault. So two-thirds then. That would make them $2,599 f0r the R5 and $1,665 for the R6. Sound more rational? Does to me. (Easy for us to say, though.) Ironically, the company that started the trend of premium pricing to make up for lower sales, Olympus, is following Contax and Bronica and a list of other once-great camera brand names into the dustbin of history. But that's not stopping others from following their lead.
• I morosely foresee a future (in my cloudy crystal ball) of nothing but complex and feature-laden FFM camera/camcorders on the one hand and smartphones on the other (and Fuji, hopefully, still marching alone to the sound of its own drummer in the middle).
• The new Canons look nice to me. Style, stylishness, and styleyness were never Canon's strong suit. But I echo what many commenters said. FFM just doesn't make a huge amount of sense to me without—ahem!—compact lenses (for an accurate value of the word "compact"). Sony's odd decision to match its Alpha 7 and 9 cameras with size-no-object optics seems to have defined the trend that others will follow. Maybe I'm just contrarian, but I just don't want to lug around a 500-gram medium-speed medium-telephoto, nor a lens the size of the Zeiss FE 35mm ƒ/1.4 as my short-normal prime. They just seem to me more like Veblen goods for the purpose of bragging rights than useful daily drivers. (Exhibit: compare two premium 35mm ƒ/1.4 lenses for full-frame.)*
• Y'all know how much I love IBIS. Eight stops seems like hyperbole, but we'll see.

Yamaha A-S3200 integrated amplifier

Two societies
Re pricing, we could talk about this seriously. There is plentiful evidence that wealth inequality is leading to a specific reaction in the marketing of goods, namely, the gradual creation of two distinct tiers—one on the low side for the increasingly impoverished middle class AKA "normal people," and another at the high side for the top 20%. We're seeing it in all sorts of things. Take as a random example Yamaha's line of integrated amplifiers. It looks like only one line of similar-looking products, but there are essentially two full lines with a gap in the middle: one that tops out at $900 with the A-S801, and the other that starts at $3,000 and goes up to the A-S3200 at $7,500. (The identifier is that the higher line has illuminated meters and the cheaper line doesn't.) The span between $900 and $3,000 is a dry desert. This is merely responsive marketing; it reflect the fact that the wealthy are increasingly price-insensitive to the cost of minor purchases such as electronics, but the average joe doesn't have the scratch to even be tempted. We're seeing the same thing in cars: a withering in the middle (even the Honda Accord isn't selling well), and proliferating offerings at what would decades ago have been considered the preposterous supercar level, meaning, today, cars that cost in excess of $100,000.

Or perhaps the cost of the new Canons merely reflects the fact that in the fast-declining camera market, lower sales mean that the development costs are are going to have to be spread over fewer total sales, meaning that the price of each unit has to be higher.

In either event, the new R's seem too expensive to me. But that judgment might be tainted by sour grapes; if I had a much fatter wallet I might feel more sanguine about it, who knows.

Those slow, slow teles
The other real development here is something that seems to me to have been an awful long time coming: the development of slower lenses (i.e., with smaller maximum apertures) to adjust to the reality of increasingly higher usable ISOs. That's just smart. Superfast lenses were developed for an era in which a fast film was ISO 400 and even at that came with penalties in the form of more visible graininess. Now ISO 1600 (two stops faster) usually has no penalties, and sensitivities two stops more than that often shows only minor degradation. A lens that's four stops slower than the feasible maximum can be so much smaller, cheaper and lighter that it's astonishing more cameramakers don't go that route. So Canon's new slow teles for the new R cameras are really the most significant news, in my eyes anyway.

Of course, you could also argue that they're just trying to wring the best out of a bad situation, because anyone who chooses FF for long telephoto work maybe has a contrarian streak themselves. Micro 4/3 and 1" sensors are getting so good these days, and make so much more sense for long tele work, that it almost seems a little addled to build up a supertelephoto arsenal for a FFM camera.

It might make me sound like a fanboy (a word I almost never allow in the comments, have you ever noticed?), but I increasingly approve of the position of Fuji X in the marketplace. They seem to flourish in the sensible middle path, with balance all around. I would not want to be stuck being pulled between FFM and smartphones myself. At least not until there are a lot more slower and truly compact lens choices for the former, anyway.

Mike

*Although Geoff Wittig loves his size-no-object Sigma ARTs for his landscape work, and he's a sensible no-nonsense guy.

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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Vince: "I agree on the slow(er) Canon teles, but I think ƒ/11 is a bridge too far."

Tex Andrews: "OK, re: Fuji. Please, please please remember Pentax. Digital medium format? Check. FF DSLR's that are very reasonably priced? Check. Excellent full featured APS-C cameras, also very reasonably priced? Check. Darn good lens lineup? Check. Ability to use lenses from the higher format on the lower ones via a native adapter? Crazy, and check. Even some sub-APS-C cameras, especially if you throw in Ricoh. Also the Theta—it's excellent. The only thing they don't do well is video. But here on this site that's mostly not what we're talking about."

PaulW: "If your thoughts on the R5 and R6 are idiosyncratic, then mine must be too, because you've echoed my thoughts completely with this post. Perhaps I've been shooting micro 4/3 for too long, but big lenses are so off-putting to me that for the past few years I've based all my camera buying decisions on lens size and weight. Thanks to you, I've now dipped a toe into the Fuji waters. We'll see where this goes. Stay idiosyncratic!"

Ross Attix: "On your point about the new Canon bodies being too expensive, I have to ask 'compared to what?' For 20 years top- of-the-line cameras have been in the $4,000–$6,500 range. Mirrorless a bit less. Right now, just looking at the Sony brand, an A7R Mark IV is at $3,200, and the A9 Mark II is $4,500. Now that is only one other brand, but it happens to be the one which has been gobbling up the market the past few years, so I’d argue not a bad choice for comparison. I wish the new Canons were less because they are out of my budget for sure, but I think they are priced where I would expect.

"As to your comment about the two societies, I think you have made a good point, but using the Honda Accord sedan as a reference is a bad example. All sedan sales have declined in recent years. But it isn’t because of the price point, it is because more and more people are moving toward an SUV of some sort. Staying with that brand, they can't produce CR-V's fast enough, so there are plenty of buyers in that lower price range."

David Dyer-Bennet: "In your telephoto analysis, you don't seem to notice an assumption you're silently making: that the old fast telephotos were fast enough. Yeah, if those were fast enough, then being able to use two stops higher ISO means we can get by with telephotos two stops slower; that's incontrovertible. But the old telephotos weren't fast enough. I find lowest acceptable shutter speed is most often set by subject movement; a tripod (or IBIS) doesn't help with that. Bigger apertures or faster films/sensors are the only things that help."

Geoff Wittig: "Thanks for the shout-out, Mike! I suspect Canon is just doing what Canon does; their marketing guys by now have things down to a science. After several years of pent-up gear lust from their very large customer base, and the frankly disappointing Canon R, the R5 is finally the camera we all wanted a year or two ago. The price point is surely based on their estimate of what their market will bear without recoiling in horror. It's $400 more than the price of the 5D Mark IV at its initial release, so it might seem almost reasonable, if you knew nothing about Nikon's Z7 or Sony's a7R IV. I have zero interest in video, so many of the R5's headline features are pointless for me. I'm used to carrying a heavy load of lenses and tripod so the modest weight reduction is of limited relevance. But if the new sensor does indeed have better dynamic range and noticeably cleaner shadows than my very well used 5DSr's, I might have to bite the bullet."

Mike replies: I assume because you would be able to continue to use your existing lenses via adapters?

Rob L: "It has not escaped my attention that I can get a Sony RX10 Mark III and have a pretty good 600mm for a lot less than 400mm in Fujiland. It seems like there is almost enough interest that a dedicated, fixed lens 600+mm 1" sensor camera could be made for a price that would be hard to beat. I got out of Canon after the Digital Rebel, but the new R's, although far too high in price, make me smile. These are machines meant to set the standard and the new lenses are interesting—the 600mm and 800mm especially so."