An extensive heat wave is forecast over the Eastern US for the coming weekend. If for any reason you or a friend or relative gets overheated, remember that the bathtub is a good way to cool down when there aren't other options—a long soak in lukewarm or coolish water can give one's body a break in coping with overheating.
Drink lots of water and remember that only "mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun"!
That's Noel Coward, who also wrote a song called "Why Do the Wrong People Travel," some of the lyrics to which go like this:
Travel they say improves the mind, An irritating platitude, which frankly, entrenous, Is very far from true.
Personally I've yet to find that longitude and latitude Can educate those scores of monumental bores Who travel in groups and herds and troupes Of varying breeds and sexes Till the whole world reels...
To shouts and squeals... And the clicking of Rolleiflexes.
And you were wondering how this post was going to circle back 'round to photography, weren't you? Stay cool.
Mike
Original contents copyright 2019 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.
Flexing its muscles as the class leader in the newly crowded full-frame mirrorless (FFM) category, Sony has announced a fourth generation—designated IV—of its high-resolution A7 model, the A7R.
The biggest news about the A7R IV is the 61-megapixel backside-illumination (BSI) CMOS sensor, which betters (by the numbers, anyway) several so called "medium format" cameras (which are really large format in digital terms. I know, all very confusing). When it ships in September it will be the highest-resolution 24x36mm camera extant.
...Which makes me recall that my 24-MP Sony A900 was the highest-resolution 24x36mm camera extant when it came out in 2008, whereas 24-MP cameras are now about as common as icewater in restaurants. The A7R IV offers more resolution than that in APS-C crop mode. And in case 61 MP isn't enough, the A7R IV also has Pixel-Shift Multi-Shooting mode for full color information at every pixel site, which reportedly results in the equivalent of 240-megapixel images. It's almost like cameras have enough resolution now, or nearly so.
The camera will have 567 phase-detection AF points with 74% frame coverage, offer 10 FPS for up to 68 images, and, significantly, ups the resolution of the UXGA OLED electronic viewfinder to a whopping 5.76m dots, which should set a new standard in viewfinder clarity and, dare I say it, beauty. The world through this viewfinder might well look prettier than, well, the world. The camera has two UHS-II SD card slots and of course offers in-body image stabilization (IBIS) and Sony's lovely Eye AF, which recognizes eyes and locks focus on them, sometimes in a manner that seems close to magic. It's also weather sealed.
Dynamic range is said to be 15 stops.
It's also being said that the design and ergonomics of the body have been further improved over previous A7 models in response to criticisms. And then we're also gonna hafta talk about that $3,500 price tag. But I'll leave those two topics till later.
The camera is not yet available for pre-order.
Mike
Original contents copyright 2019 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:
Roger Overall: "Two hundred and forty megapixel images? I remember writing an article on spec when everyone was marveling over six-megapixel cameras in which I said we'd one day see the likes of cameras that would give us 250-megapixel images. I think the piece was laughed out of the editorial office. I'd like to say, 'Hah! Told you so!', but I can't remember which magazine it was for."
Mike replies: Hate to say it, but whatever magazine it was, it might be out of business today.
I have taken close to 10,000 photographs on my various smartphones, mostly with the most recent ones since they have had the best photographic capabilities. Some time ago I shot and edited an image with a phone every day a year. I even printed few. That taught me a few things, and I now think I'm pretty decent at phone photography.
That said, I'm not taking as many photos with my phone as I used to. The first reason is ergonomics: the speed of the controls and the phone is not satisfactory for action photography, which leaves one big potential subject area of phone photography—kids—lacking.
The second reason is image quality, namely the rendering of certain colors and gradations and the rendering of fine detail. If the subject greatly benefits from pleasant rendering of certain colors or needs fine detail, the phone is no longer satisfactory.
I had a moment where I realized where my limit with phone photography was. I was sitting in a café opposite my son, and he had a good expression. My camera in my bag and my phone were next to me, so I took a shot with the phone. The colors where wholly unsatisfactory, a garish rendition. Out comes the camera, a bit of waiting, and I got the shot I wanted. I realized that if I don't put in the effort to get the shot that I want, I'm not going to be satisfied with the photo. The harsh gradation, color that is slightly off and lack of detail in the phone photo will bother me every time, and I'll be kicking myself for not having a "real" camera handy.
So I make a point of not trying to make the phone do things it's not very good at, and I'm a happier photographer.
Oskar
TOP reader Oskar Ojala is an amateur photographer living in Helsinki, Finland. He started photography in the early '00s with film and has since embraced digital, focusing on photography of people, nature and city views. With a day job in software, he follows the latest developments but tries to avoid too much focus on tech in photography.
Original contents copyright 2019 by Oskar Ojala. 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:
Jeff Kott: "Thanks for this! I really like the camera in my iPhone Xs, except ever since the iPhone 6 I've found iPhone photos' skin tones to be oversaturated and too biased toward yellow/orange. This is the main reason I use my 'real' cameras so much."
Fred Haynes: "I’m old, eighty-three, and I don’t have a smartphone, but even though I see great pictures from them that my wife takes, and my brother-in-law as well (he and his wife visited Paris only carrying a smartphone), I still can’t bring myself to accept a phone for photography! I liked Oskar’s post, because his analysis of smartphone photography sort of reinforces my point of view. Probably not a good thing, since I should try to remain open-minded. Sigh!!"
Mike replies: I think you're pretty darned open-minded, Fred, considering your first serious camera was a Nikon S2 bought new! (As you commented once.)
It's Prime Day—a day of blowout deals from Amazon for people who have Amazon Prime, obviously intended to get more people to sign up for Prime. There are many pages of deals and many hundreds of items on sale.
A few things I can personally recommend:
Dyson Animal Vacuum Cleaner: I've written about this awesome thing in the past, and after a number of years I'm still very satisfied with mine. It's a good buy at $600 in my opinion, but why not pay $350 instead?
A Vitamix: I wish all products were like the Vitamix, a throwback to the days when things were well made and had simple controls and worked superbly. Especially if you eat plants a lot, this is indispensable—I use mine every day and love it. Mine was a refurb too, like this one.
An Apple iPad: I've said this before, but of all my Apple devices, the iPad is the least crucial and the one I'm the most attached to. My favorite Apple thingy. Except that I'm always misplacing the danged thing. Another item I use every day and love.
A kneeling chair: I don't own one of these now (although I should), but they're useful if you have any problems with your spine. Also great for meditation if you're not limber enough to contort yourself into traditional postures. (This deal is upcoming—a number of the deals haven't started yet.)
DNA test: I thought this was absolutely fascinating and well worth the cost. Turns out I have loads of Scandinavian ancestry, but through Vikings who settled in Northeastern England a thousand years ago—which we've always counted as English. (How long do you have to live somewhere before you're no longer a newcomer, anyway?!) And I had no idea how or why I am 12% Spanish, but that's what my DNA says.
An Instant Pot: Makes pressure cooking super simple, and it's a breeze to clean up. I love mine and use it all the time. Many foods taste better cooked in the Instant Pot—it makes soups super easy, and makes melt-in-your-mouth potatoes and sweet potatoes. You can use it as a slow cooker and you can even sauté in it. It's another appliance I use constantly and appreciate. I'm an Instant Pot evangelist—I've sold about seven friends on them so far, and all of them love it too. Mine was a birthday gift from my dear departed ex-girlfriend S. of ambivalent memory, just to give credit where credit is due.
The Starch Solution: The best, most practical all-around diet and nutrition book of the 120+ I've browsed or perused in the past six years or so (yes, I've been a bit obsessed). It's the easiest to follow and most sensible of the "health first" programs. Highly recommended for people who are humans. (Oh, okay, I admit it, this actually isn't a Prime Day deal. I'm just sneaking it in. It's plenty cheap as a paperback or ebook in any event.)
And finally, Prime itself: I've been a Prime member for years and have been nothing but happy with it. You get free shipping on most Amazon purchases free books, music, videos, and lots more. A no-brainer if you shop at Amazon more than a handful of times in a year.
Disclaimer: I'm an Amazon Affiliate and when you click through these links you are putting some pennies in my pocket. Just so you are aware.
Mike
Original contents copyright 2019 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:
Jim: "I'd love to hear more about how you use your Instant Pot in one of your OT posts. I got one a while back thinking it would be great for meaty winter stews and the like, but I've been eating a lot less meat, so not really getting much use out of it. If there are plant things it does well, it'd be great to hear about them!"
Mike replies: I'm not the guy to tell anyone about cooking, except perhaps talking to other clueless bachelors for purposes of commiseration. :-) So bear that in mind please! However, a staple of my diet are bean, lentil, chickpea, and split pea soups, which I normally make on Sundays and then eat throughout the week—I get six to eight meals out of each batch. The Instant Pot makes cooking these simple and fast, and cleanup is quick. I often use "heirloom" beans from Rancho Gordo.
I recommend having 4–6 recipes you like so you don't get tired of any one of them by fixing it too often. Here's one nice recipe that I like and that Xander liked as well:
Split-Pea Carrot Garlic Soup 6–8 cups of organic vegetable stock 2 cups dried yellow split peas 1 medium white onion, diced 1 bunch (6 medium) carrots, sliced (carrots bought with the tops on taste better. If you don't have organic carrots, cut to top 1/2 to 1 inch off the top end of the carrot as that's where pesticides tend to concentrate. Carrots are healthiest if they're scrubbed but not peeled.) 5 cloves garlic, minced 3–4 grinds of pepper 1/4 tsp. cumin 1/2 tsp. salt 1/2 tsp. dry basil or 1 tbsp. minced fresh basil 1/2 tsp. dry marjoram
Instructions: Mix together in Instant Pot. Cook on manual for 17 minutes, with 10 minutes of cool-down before venting. Allow to cool to room temperature, then refrigerate. When serving, salt it at the table just until it doesn't taste bland.
Options:
Take a few cups of the finished soup and blend it in the Vitamix then pour it back into the soup for texture; this will also bring out the spices a little more. For a nice touch, blend some unsalted pecans with the portion of the soup you're blending.
Add 1/2 to 1 cup separately cooked brown rice to the finished soup (but see halfway down this post about the safest, healthiest way to cook rice)
Add a couple of cloves of minced uncooked garlic to the finished soup if you like garlic.
Hope you like!
Merle: "Regarding the DNA Test, I think you'd enjoy A Brief History of Everyone Who Ever Lived: The Human Story Retold Through Our Genes by Adam Rutherford. Lots of interesting tidbits, including information about DNA test results from a geneticist's perspective. Regarding 'How long do you have to live somewhere before you're no longer a newcomer, anyway?!,' I have some friends who moved to eastern Kentucky in the mid-'80s. Not long after they moved there, they saw an obituary in the local paper which described a man in his 90s and all the wonderful things he'd done. The last sentences read something like: 'He moved here when he was six months old. He was not a native of this county.'"
Mike replies: That does look like the kind of book I'd love.
In the 1990s I almost moved to a town called Battle Ground, Indiana, near where Tecumseh and The Prophet were defeated by William Henry Harrison, until I heard a native describe someone who had lived there for 20 years as a "mover-inner." One of the great things about the rural area where I live now is that there are a lot of lakeshore and Summer people, so newcomers get to blend in instead of standing out like sore thumbs.
Paul Amyes: "Lots of Scots and Irish have Spanish genes due to Armada survivors being shipwrecked on the Northeastern coast of Scotland and Ireland’s West coast."
Mike replies: That could be it. In Ireland, when I was young, I befriended a local girl for a few weeks who was "Black Irish," so called—a descendant of those Spaniards. She was very striking-looking, with light blue eyes and very pale, perfect skin, but beautiful black hair. She cast rather a spell over me, as I still muse over her in my thoughts from time to time.
I've made a decision: I'm no longer going to be prejudiced about smartphone cameras. Ten years ago, when Janis Krums took a cellphone picture of US Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River, we still had reason to be amazed that a non-photographer could take a news picture with a phone and it could be, like, meaningful. It seemed like a brave new world then. No longer. Now, smartphone cameras are just another kind of camera. Like any other kind of consumer camera from the Kodak Brownie to the point-and-shoot to the digicam, they can be used for any kind of photography up to and including expressive artwork. Any kind of contempt for their "unseriousness" is hidebound and old fashioned, merely the residue of older attitudes clinging to the present.
For example, I was doing my daily battle with the goldenrod in my "wildflower garden" (inherited with the house) a few days ago, pulling it out by hand, when I uncovered yet another poor plant that had been engulfed and smothered by the rapacious weed. It had large buds at the top so I suspected it was not a weed itself. The next day, returning to yank still more goldenrod from the ground (I have a feeling I will never win), a single day in the sunlight had encouraged the recently liberated be-budded plant to do this:
Blooming while the blooming was good! You could almost feel its gratitude at being freed from the clutches of the rampaging goldenrod. So I ran to the house, got out the full-frame camera and the 85mm lens, and took this. Do you like it?
Just kidding. This is an iPhone picture, in portrait mode.
Does it make any difference? It's just a picture, and it's just for here. I'm not going to print it. Anyway, I think scorning pictures made with phones is an outmoded behavior now, and so is feigning amazement that good pictures can actually be taken with phones. They're just another kind of camera, among all the other kinds of cameras. You might scorn them if you are disposed to scorn other consumer cameras—few photographers ever respected the Kodak Instamatic or Disk cameras, for instance—but don't forget that there have been people who have done interesting work with toy cameras and things like pinhole cameras made from shoe boxes.
Toy camera?!
I suppose it's sort of old-fashioned that I even bother mentioning this, at this late date. The whole rest of the world has already accepted that smartphone cameras are just cameras...it's only crusty old photo-dawgs like moi who have been holdouts. But really, I don't want to be the kind of person who holds other peoples' choices against them, like the crusty old pros in the 1930s and '40s who scorned the tiny 35mm cameras made by Leitz as "toys." Some pretty decent work was done with those, too.
Nothing but colors I ate some ice cream on Friday, for the first time in this calendar year. I had a kiddie portion. I didn't enjoy it. I felt a bit sick afterwards, half because of the massive dosing of sucrose and cancer-promoting casein, and half out of guilt for betraying my fealty to WFPB. This is an iPhone snap a picture of the ice cream shop in Naples (New York, not Italy, don't get excited):
I'm so ashamed.
Not a great picture, and I'm not proud of it, but it illustrates a point I want to make. I admit I've had various bigotries about materials and methods over the years. For instance, back in the old days when black and white were the colors of photography, I could never seem to bring myself to make serious prints on RC paper. I had used some of the very earliest ones, and they tended to discolor and acquire craquelure, so I never quite trusted them and I could never take them seriously. RC was for work prints, fiber-base for final prints. Which is ironic, because some of my fiber-base prints made on expensive fine-art papers thirty years ago are showing a touch of age, looking a tad dingy (probably because of aging or fading brighteners), whereas prints made on Ilford RC papers still look very good. Some of them look like the day they were made. The RC papers seem to have lasted better than some of the fiber-base papers. If I were going to print traditional B&W today, I'd use Ilford RC papers. Well, except for the fact that museums and galleries are prejudiced against them too. Or are they, still? They used to be.
But I'll tell you one thing I can't get over—taking pictures like the one of the ice cream shop that just depend on pretty colors. I'm not talking about all color photography, just photographs that are entirely "of" bright colors. Whenever I take a photograph that's "just" of color, it's like I get hit by this paintball pellet of guilt and shame. This is just me—I know there are superb photographers known for doing just that their whole careers—but something about it just seems illegitimate to me, and it makes me feel guilty when I catch myself doing it. I find it very hard to concentrate on shooting carefully when the only thing that draws me to a subject is just a bunch of strong happy colors. Something in my brain screams at me for it and makes me feel bad. Bright colors? It seems to say. Is that all photography is?!?
Maybe I need to work on that. Or maybe I'm just not good at that type of color photography. It's all right not to be good at things.
Again, this is just me and my own brain, my own...feelings. For my own work only. Nothing against anyone who pursues colors as a subject, so please don't think I'm insulting you, or anyone. As with many things in photography, I try to separate the way I feel about things for my own work and my openness to the same things in the work of others.
I mostly succeed. Heck, sometimes I even take flower pictures now. That's a change! :-)
Mike
Original contents copyright 2019 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:
John Camp: "I do disdain cell phone cameras when used to make art photos, but I use mine all the time to make notes, record prices, take quick candids, etc. The only time they're removed from my phone is when I discard them or message them to someone, who most often won't remove them from her phone except to discard them.
"You're not far from Manhattan. Go to the Guggenheim, take a look at the huge Robert Mapplethorpe photos on display right now, and tell me how you'd make those prints after shooting the same subject with a iPhone.
"My daughter has access to a very fine, beautifully printed Mapplethorpe retrospective book; she says seeing the Mapplethorpes at the Guggenheim was, for her, a totally different experience. (And it is.)
"I don't run your blog, but it seems to me that you can either have a camera blog, in which all cameras are more-or-less equal, simply because they're all cameras, and that would be a fine thing to do; or you can have a photography blog in which all photos distinctly are not equal. Of the not-equal photos, the iPhone shots are the least equal."
JimH: "Congratulations, Mike.You have crossed the threshold from cause to effect, camera to image. It's easy to focus on what makes the image but that's understandable when we're dealing with an art that uses such seductive tools. I wonder if artists experienced angst over brushes or sculptors over chisels like photographers do over cameras today.
"I recently had to take closeups of some tech products for an online newsletter we produce and I was not pleased with the shots with my Pen F. I tried my iPhone 8 and got much better results. That was it—the whole lot of Olympus gear went on eBay and was sold (got a nice price too!) Why should I leave it sitting here unused? I had only taken about a hundred photos with it in a year.
"Thom Hogan rails at the camera manufacturers about ignoring connectivity and ergonomics and I agree. Using an iPhone is intuitive, simple and covers 90+% of what I ever did with a complicated 'camera.'
"And remember when it comes to art, there are Lomo, Holga, and pinhole groups doing great art. I even had Holga lenses for the Olympuses.
"Your comment about the purists scorning Leica 35mm users at first made me chuckle. My high school art teacher who got me interested in photography (and cars) gave me this drawing more than 50 years ago. Seems appropriate."
photoDes: "Like others who have commented, I just can't manipulate my phone well enough to enjoy photography. It seems to fight me when I'm trying to compose and then push the 'button.' I never seem to catch the picture I want. The photos I've taken are impressive enough but the handling is the worst of all my cameras (various types). I could comment on the lousy sound quality of the phone service too, but I won't."
Tom Burke: "Thank you! I too have been enjoying my iPhone camera. In fact I think that some of my favourite pictures of the last couple of years or so have been taken with it. In view of which, it’s interesting to note that in his 'One device...' anouncement, Steve Jobs did not include a camera as one of the three devices. The three were: a wide screen iPod with touch controls; a revolutionary mobile phone; and an Internet communicator. Yes there was a camera included as well, but Jobs didn’t think it was worth saying much about it. But the smartphone camera has disrupted an entire industry."
Henning Wulff: "I think my 'moment' regarding phone photographs was when I saw this print offer. This has now proudly hung matted and framed pretty much as you suggested in our house for the past six years. Definitely money well spent; the joy in viewing it is ongoing."
Mike replies: A beautiful thing, isn't it? I still love that.
Paul Van: "As a bit of a gear-hound, one of the things that has appealed to me about photography is the seemingly endless paths you can take. Cell phone photography is just another path, currently well-traveled with occasional footprints leading off the path. While I may be of an age or temperament that is not interested in going down that path (or at least not far), I can appreciate those who want to explore it."
Darrell Marquette: "Yes. They are another kind of camera which I use along with my digital and film cameras. I just love photography no matter what makes the photo."
At just past noon yesterday, Saturday, my day off, here's what I had done during the day up to that point:
Shared a riddle I got from a nine-year-old;
Stroked a blind Basset;
Bought a bag of fresh-picked mixed salad greens and a bag of freshly-hulled fresh peas;
Happened to hear the Beatles, Dylan, and the Stones on the radio in the car, like nothing at all has changed in fifty years;
Made a Packers joke to a retired player for the New England Patriots, who did not think I was amusing in the least;
Contributed to an Alzheimer's organization;
In different places, met the wives of not one but two Mennonite men I happen to know, both of whom I have heard about for several years but had never met before; and
Had a conversation about diet with an intelligent itinerant peddler of elixirs named Candace, from whom I bought a bottle of Turmeric Tonic. It's made up the road in Geneva by an outfit called Finger Lakes Harvest. But really, anything called a "tonic" that's not hair tonic or tonic water ought to be sold out of the back of a Conestoga wagon.
All that was due to the fact that on Saturday mornings in the Summer I make a circuit to the farmer's market in Penn Yan and then to The Windmill. I love the Finger Lakes....
However, all that was then trumped* by an email I got yesterday afternoon from PayPal:
...Gave me a big grin. Just like old times! (That follows up from this post, in case you haven't been reading along.)
I heard from Wendell. After years of good health, he tells me he's suffered a series of health setbacks, but he's adjusting and getting along. He ended on a light note by telling me this mini-story. "I have a friend of over 60 years who's a songwriter and performer from Savannah, Georgia," he said. "He’s had a bunch of health issues over recent years and when we check in with each other over the phone our opening topic is naturally our lists of ailments. The last time I called him I immediately asked him how he was doing and his reply was, 'you know, I feel much better since I’ve given up all hope.' I get a chuckle out of that every time I think of it."
I got another chuckle too. According to H&R Block in its report on my return last year, I pay 33% of my income in taxes, so instead of saying "another day, another dollar," I like to say "another day, another 67 cents." (You know, like old guys say things only they think are funny.) By coincidence, after the PayPal fees were subtracted from Wendell's dollar, exactly 67¢ was left over. Made me laugh.
And so it goes. It's another glorious day here, so I'm going outside to cut some grass.
Mike
*Sorry.
Original contents copyright 2019 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.
Riddles are best if you puzzle them out in your head, so no cheating! Google begone.
It's better than God and worse than the devil; the poor have it, and the rich need it; yet if you eat it, you'll die.
What is it?
This was put to us at the "Picnic in the Park" last night by a nimble-minded nine-year-old named Anya. (I hope I'm spelling that right.) Her soon-to-be-stepdad Alex was the only adult who got it.
Please, no spoilers in the Comments. I'll pass along the answer tomorrow morning.
Mike (Thanks to Anya)
UPDATE the next morning: The answer is "nothing." Good one, eh? :-)
Original contents copyright 2019 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:
anthony reczek: "Ha ha! For the past twenty four hours, this 'nimble minded nine-year old' in upstate NY was wreaking havoc in households across five continents. Glad I only saw this earlier today...."
mishka: "Spent a lot of time thinking but nothing comes to mind."
I managed to find Wendell Webb's original golf story that he sent me 16 or 18 years ago. My recounting of it from memory the other day wasn't too bad, but I got many details wrong. Here's the real version, from the horse's mouth so to speak. This is from Wendell:
I was just thinking about your golf story and thought I would tell you a short story about my short-lived golf career.
In the late '70s I was stationed in Turkey for 18 months. Unfortunately, I was there when the US cut off military aid to Turkey, and the Turkish government got a little bent out of shape about it. They took over all the bases in the country (a political, not a military move) and completely shut down our operation. As a result, most of us had no job to go to and plenty of free time on our hands.
The base was small and didn't have a lot of recreational facilities, but it did have a nine-hole golf course. Each hole had two tee positions so you could play 18 holes. I had played golf maybe two or three times before, but a friend of mine and I decided that we would play 18 holes every day for the remainder of our stay, regardless of weather or any other circumstance. We ended up playing every day for about three months, and then about three times a week after that.
I am, or was, a pretty good athlete, but for some reason, I could not play golf well. I couldn't control my drive, and my fairway shots were very unpredictable. I was shooting in the 120s even after the first month or so of playing every day.
We had a golf clubhouse, which was a shack that had a few chairs and tables, where they sold beer and Cokes and potato chips when they had them. All the golfers would hang around there and brag about their latest round of 74 or 90 or 84, etc., and when I was forced to give my score of 123 or whatever I got the appropriate laughs.
I decided to do something about the embarrassment...for all future rounds, I decided to play until I reached 90 or so strokes and then walk off the course. Fourteenth hole, 10th hole, it didn't matter. Then I could truthfully say that my score was 90 or 93 or whatever. That worked great. Now, all I had to do was try to increase the number of holes that I played. That seemed to really take the pressure off me. My playing partner thought it was hysterical, and never told anyone.
Finally, I had an opportunity to play with one of the better golfers on base, a colonel who was the base comptroller before we got kicked out. He agreed to observe my game and give me some pointers. He was not going to give me any instruction as we played, but at the clubhouse after the round was finished.
After the round, as we were sitting there having our drinks, he told me, with a perfectly straight face, that I should completely lay off the game for two or three weeks...and then never go back to it.
—Wendell Webb
Funny. The golf swing is a profoundly unnatural motion, and "Sometimes you just can't do / What your body isn't meant to," in the words of an old Mountain Goats song.
I tried to contact Wendell but he is no longer at his former email address. As I mentioned the other day, in the mid-2000s I got the bright idea of asking readers of my old column "The Sunday Morning Photographer" to voluntarily contribute $1 a week. The column was being published on eight websites, and our best guesstimate was that it was being seen by 60,000 to 80,000 people a week. Yet I wasn't getting a dime for it from anyone. I figured a couple of hundred readers might shoot me a buck for every article if I asked.
Wendell was the only one who did. Now there's Patreon for those who like to contribute (and thanks to all of you who do—you're very kind), but for a couple of years there was only Wendell, who faithfully sent a dollar by PayPal every time one of my columns appeared—my first, and for a considerable time my only, online supporter. I used to tell him that he might not be one in a million, but that he was one in sixty thousand.
Grateful thanks again, Wendell, wherever you are.
Mike
UPDATE Saturday July 13th: This came in an email from PayPal early this afternoon:
Made my day! :-)
Original contents copyright 2019 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.
TV cameraman (and, of course, TOP reader) Mike Plews wrote a nice comment to yesterday's post about approaching people in the street—he said that a tip he gives to "new kids" is to lose their sunglasses.
I second that. A few additional tips—keep your hands out of your pockets, keep the camera out in the open, and no hoodies! Light clothing helps too, in my opinion, unless you look like the business in dark clothing. Short sleeves in Summer—people won't think you "have something up your sleeve"! Anything that helps you look more like what you're presenting yourself to be can't hurt.
A photo vest helps...even if you don't have anything to load into the pockets and you don't actually need the vest. Remember, people are going to be sizing you up quickly. Photo vests remain useful in that they look faintly silly so they're seldom worn as fashion—who would wear something so dorky unless they needed it?—so to many people they still telegraph "photographer." And that helps you with your bonafides.
Consider this guy. Who could take that dude for anything but a photographer? And note, no sunglasses, and nothing on his head, and light clothing, and nothing up his sleeve. He's old, too, which helps—people are less threatened by oldsters. If you're younger, you'd best be charming.
You might consider Lee's getup to be a disguise. He's a real photographer who has disguised himself as a photographer. :-)
Of course, your attitude is the main thing. Peter's got mad skillz in that sense. Me, not so much.
If you're anxious, people are going to pick up on it right away. (Three guesses how I know.) As strangers appraise you, an anxious attitude is a turnoff. My advice is, be fully prepared for a "no" answer and have the ability to treat it like the proverbial "water off a duck's back." If you're all set and ready for rejection, then there's no need to be nervous.
Here are a few photo vests from Amazon, and here's one from B&H. Unfortunately you cannot purchase a good attitude. If you could, I'd recommend it. :-)
Mike (Thanks to Mike P.)
Original contents copyright 2019 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:
Josh Hawkins: "Relaxed, approachable smile. It’s been my go to for 20 years. If that doesn’t smooth everything over be prepared to have a nice friendly conversation about who you are, what you’re doing and why. And always stay nice and positive even if you’re not going to get a good photo."
Gordon Lewis: "As a veteran street shooter I can confirm that the less intimidating you look, the better. This of course can mean different things to different subjects, but generally speaking, any photographer with reasonable emotional intelligence has a sense of how intimidating they may seem to other people. I've never been a fan of photo vests and the like, but you'd be surprised how often I'm asked if I'm a pro photographer simply because of the way I carry and handle my equipment. I don't do this intentionally, it's just that most people can perceive that experts move differently from novices.
"The takeaway here is it helps to look like you're confident and know what you're doing. Final tip: Consider what type of person you're approaching for a photograph. I once approached an extremely dapper gent in Philadelphia and asked if I could photograph him. When he asked why, I replied, 'Now surely you didn't leave home today looking this fabulous without thinking that maybe, just maybe, you might turn a head or two.' He grinned and said 'Where do you want me to stand?' The point isn't to use flattery per se but rather to look for a seamless way to introduce the idea of taking a photograph. Frankly, considering you're probably standing in front of them with a camera on your neck or shoulder, they should hardly be surprised if you make a polite inquiry."
Dennis: "Some years ago, when my daughter was a younger child, a photographer took pictures of her on the boardwalk in New Jersey...at first, my parent's instincts jumped to attention, but he was a friendly older gentleman wearing a photographer's vest with a couple of cameras, and he approached us after taking a few shots and talked briefly to us—might have asked for some information, I can't remember. In hindsight, it may have been Bob Krist—I vaguely recall him looking somewhat like Bob does in pictures, and I bought a book of Krist's photos that features some taken on that same boardwalk around the same time period."
Martin D (partial comment): "Personally, I'd rather not be seen in one of those photo vests. I am already rather deficient in the fashion department, and I want my young daughters to accumulate the right sort of memories of their dad! I don't need such vests to look even more geeky. :-) "
Dogman: "When I shot film, I loved my vests. Especially when traveling—you could carry guide books, maps and brochures alongside rolls of film and extra lenses. But digital cameras and the iPhone kinda did in the need for a photo vest. But I'm not givin' up my cargo pants and Tilley hats...."
Tom: "This is all well and good, but what we really need to know from Peter is how he manages to get a woman he's just met to sit and have a cup of coffee with him."
Mike replies: Your comment made me laugh, because when we talked on the phone I told him that that had never happened with me in my entire life.
If you read Peter's post from yesterday carefully, you can discern a few things. First of all, it started with simple connection on a personal, human level—a look, a smile, a greeting. Then, engagement—an invitation to have coffee. Next, as anyone might do who was beginning a conversation, he listened, learning her name and where she was from and so on. Then they found common ground, in that he had some familiarity with Somalia, where she came from, and he was sympathetic to her feelings of sorrow about it. Finally he asked if he could take her picture, and got her on board by respecting her own desires for it ("Yes, and please say I am a woman without a country").
So it went like this: contact, engagement, consideration, identification, empathy, and collaboration. Am I wrong about that? I'm not saying all that was programed or deliberate—obviously it just unfolded naturally—but I think you can see all those stages clearly in his brief account of the encounter.
What a far cry that is from the way I take street portraits. I'm shy and reluctant, so I try to sneak pictures surreptitiously or take a hurried shot and move on.
It's possible that many of us have it backwards—we approach situations with the goal of getting a good photograph out of it. Then if we have an interaction with our subject on a personal level, that's a bonus, an extra. To Peter, photography is about life, not about photography. It might be better for me to do it the other way around—my goal might be to make a human connection first, and then, if a good photograph happens to come out of it, that's the bonus. And better photographs sometimes come out of doing it that way anyway. Of course different photographers have different ways of working that are right for them. There's no right or wrong way.
I had mentioned to Peter earlier that I haven't photographed any of the Mennonite people in my area because they don't like it, won't give their permission, and respond resentfully if you try—so I don't. He said he didn't know about the Mennonites, but that, in his experience, if you are clear about what you're doing and go right up to people confidently, without being afraid to get in their space, and then deal with them on a human level and take your cues from how they're reacting to you, you can often take their picture and they're fine with it. Ironically, he said, people will react much more negatively when you try to hang back twenty feet and "steal" a photograph than if you go right up to them with nothing to hide. So it's possible that it's actually harder to take a picture when you're more timid than if you act confidently and clearly.
Humans are remarkably good at evaluating the intentions of strangers—we often make determinations within a split second about the potential threat of a person approaching us. "If I don't think what I'm doing is all right," he said, "how can I expect them to?"
Mike
Peter Turnley adds: Thank you all around, Mike. It might be important to add is that powerful photographs don’t come from a formula—they are about the human story, they most often emanate from human sincerity and authenticity, and, as in life itself, genuine compassion seems to go a long way.
Original contents copyright 2019 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:
Hans Muus: "Beautiful—the picture as well as Peter Turnley’s remarks. They made me realise that, quite unintentionally, I have made my best street portraits that way. And his explanation, or is it advice, makes me stronger or more certain of myself. Up till now, after having met a stranger in the street, I often hesitated to ask the photo-question and get my camera out, out of a certain uneasiness to spoil a kind of fragile intimacy that had just been developed, by suddenly wanting to exploit it to my own ends. But actually it is a much more friendly action than the other, sneaky way around, and it might even benefit the other person in ways unforeseen—as per the Somalian woman, presently without a country. Thank you, Peter, and thank you, Mike."
Paul: "Exactly like Anders Petersen: 'To me, it’s encounters that matter; pictures are much less important.'"
Roy Feldman: "When you are working as a freelance photojournalist fear and hesitation is overcome by knowing you wouldn't be hired by that publication again if you don't come back with the shot. This causes one to force yourself towards confidence (not pushiness). If you approach people with the attitude of 'hey, it's my job to get this picture,' without any rudeness or assertiveness, most people are remarkably welcoming and gracious. Being sneaky never works and doesn't make you feel particularly good about yourself."
Bruce Bordner: "My problem 'these days' is that whenever I am about to take a candid un-staged shot the subject(s) will see my camera and immediately pose, ruining it. It's a reflex—they've been trained to look good on the Internet. I have to tell my friends 'stop waiting for the shutter: ignore me.' I don't use any social media so I don't even know what to expect, but it limits and contorts the images I was attempting. I have to be sneaky to get any reality."
Paul Braverman: "A lovely story and more proof that if there’s a friendlier place than the streets of New York City, I haven’t found it. Peter’s advice about photographing strangers is no doubt solid but it has its limits. I lived in Santa Fe for a while. The local Indian pueblos were obvious subjects for photography, but the Indians were having none of it. They were notoriously camera shy, and weren’t—for obvious reasons—too thrilled with the white man in general. I tried introducing myself, I wrote letters, I even attended a tribal council meeting to explain what I had in mind. No dice. For some people, and the Mennonites might be among them, there is no approach that will work."
Mike Plews: "A while back I watched video of Albert Maysles photographing people on the street. He would walk up to people and say 'you have s nice face, may I take your picture?' Seemed to be working pretty well.
"As a TV news guy I approach people all the time. It pays to go slow, be respectful and know when to gracefully take no for an answer. I have about a 50% success rate. One tip I give the new kids is to either lose your sunglasses or put them up on your forehead before approaching people. This seems particularly helpful when dealing with authority figures."
[Albert Maysles, 1926–2015, was half of the "direct documentary" filmmaking team The Maysles Brothers. Among other accomplishments, they made the famous film Gimme Shelter about the Rolling Stones' 1969 tour that captured the notorious violence at Altamont that resulted in the death of a spectator. —Ed.]
Clay Olmstead: "I once took a photography workshop from Mark Thiessen; he told us to use our camera as a way to connect with other people, not to separate ourselves from them. This is exactly what he was talking about."
Luna, a woman without a country A street portrait by Peter Turnley, Harlem, New York, May 27th, 2019
On a beautiful spring morning over this past Memorial Day weekend, I was sitting at a terrace café in Harlem. A woman walked by, and we looked at each other and said hello. She had a lovely smile. I asked her to sit down to join me for a coffee, and we began to speak.
She said her name was Luna and she was from Somalia. I told her I had been in Somalia as a photojournalist in 1992, and had spent time in Mogadishu, the capital, and how I had photographed the suffering in the town of Baidoa when two hundred people a day were dying of starvation there.
Luna told me she was from Mogadishu and had left Somalia in 1986. As we spoke about Somalia, she began to cry. I often cry on the inside when I think of the tragedy I witnessed during the terrible famine in Somalia, and I asked her if I could make a photograph of her. She said "Yes, and please say I am a woman without a country."
We continued to speak over coffee. By the time we stood up to say goodbye, she was smiling. She said, "When I woke up this morning, I said to myself, I hope to come across a miracle. Thank you for speaking to me."
I thanked her, too, for helping me to remember on that Memorial Day how many people in this world have less than we do, and that we all share this journey together—and that there is nothing more important than love and compassion.
Peter
Original contents copyright 2019 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.
Here's one really flat-out great thing about photography as a hobby. By way of explanation-by-analogy, permit me to open with one of my patented digressions.
A number of years ago, when the best center in basketball was Shaquille O'Neal, I realized with swelling pride and a fair amount of amazement that I was just as good as Shaq.
...At free throws. During one particularly bad game, I read in the papers that Shaq hit two out of ten. Well, I can hit two out of ten free throws, my brothers, my sisters. Seriously I can. Just like Shaq did, I can pour one in for every five tries or so. That's how good I am.
(Well, that's how good I was. I can't say I've shot a basketball more than, I don't know, eight times in this, erm, millennium.)
Lest you think I am cherrypicking, I will have you know that I was actually rather good at set shots, unguarded, from beyond the three-point line. For what reason I do not know. But I was. Shaquille O'Neal? One three-pointer in his entire NBA career. Uno. Me vs. Shaq? I like me. Give me nineteen years in the NBA like Shaq had and I would roll, I would rock, I would rage, I would dom-in-ate—I bet I could double, triple, even quadruple Shaq's total of three-pointers. (Because, you know, they'd be leaving me unguarded on account of what a threat I'd be.) I want a piece of that man's paycheck.
Golf: Once, playing alone at Pine Hill golf course near Pellston, Michigan, I stood at a tee on, yes, a hill, facing a distant green surrounded with, yes! pine trees, and realized that, even though it was a par-three hole, it was a long par-three hole, and there was no way I was going to reach that little tiny green way over there in one shot, so I might as well not try. Assuming I'd reach the green in two, I took a relaxed, easy swing with my trusty three-wood, which I used in place of a driver. Imagine how startled I was, how astonished, when the clubhead seemed barely to touch the ball, and the ball jumped off the club face with a crisp little tock! and sailed in a soaring arc through the air for what seemed like a minute, landed on the green, and bounded and ran another twenty feet or so to end up mere inches from the cup. What?! Wait, I know! I'm secretly great at this game, that must be the explanation for that! Yep, that must be it. Did you see that?
I looked around, hoping someone had, well, seen that. No one had. That's what happens when you play alone on a weekday.
But it turned out I really was great. I hit a shot just that good not even a year later, and an even better one a year after that. In fact I'm so good I probably averaged one completely impressive pro-level shot per year. (Sorta by accident, but hey, flukes count.)
It kept me coming back. Well, for a while. My secret greatness at golf turned out to be a very well-kept secret.
Tennis: The same sort of thing happened in tennis when I was a kid. Every now and then I would hit a shot so brilliant and blistering it was a creditable imitation of Jimmy Connors. (The great James Scott Connors was a big deal the last time I played much tennis. Get off my back, I'm old. So is Jimmy). Of course, you could argue that almost every shot Jimmy Connors played (except the few he flubbed) were as good as, well, Jimmy Connors shots, but that only about one out of every two or three thousand of my shots approached his standard. You could argue that, but I would be ignoring you, recalling my admittedly rare achievements through a Rose #3 filter.
Pool: Finally, regarding pool, I used to occasionally post a "Your Shot of the Day," which featured great pool shots. No one here likes pool, though, so I don't do those any more. But if I did, I might perhaps post this fun shot by Jeff De Luna of the Philippines during the World Cup of Pool finals this year between the Philippines and Austria.
The game is Scotch Doubles 9-ball. Jeff must hit the blue 2 ball, and is trying a long bank off the short rail. But as he's getting set, the 30-second clock is winding down (you can see the progress bar in red in the lower left-hand corner of the screen), and he calls for a time extension. But oh no! he's forgotten that his teammate Carlo Biado already used their one extension for that rack a few turns earlier. As time runs down to the buzzer the ref quickly tells him he hasn't got an extension. So you could see what happens for yourself, I might, in the old days, have embedded the video, like this:
...But since I don't do any of that any more, I'll just mention that I'm quite good at those long banks off the rail, and have hit shots like that many times. (They're not actually as hard as they look.)
Anyway, my theory is that this is what keeps people playing sports like these: It's because every now and then they hit a magnificent shot that's as good as it can possibly be, as good as a pro could do, as good as someone famous could do, as good as they see on TV. So they know the feeling. The only difference for us amateurs is that we do it less often. Sometimes far less often, admittedly, but still...we admire the greats and the pros because we identify.
The parallel to photography must be obvious to you by now. The fine, fun, fantastic fact is this:
No matter what stage of development you're in, no matter what kind of equipment you have, no matter what your level of innate talent, no matter how consistent or inconsistent you are, you're going to take a really great shot every now and then if you keep at it. Snapshooters do it; long-time Leicaphiles do it; phone snappers do it; view-camera sheet-film shooters do it; in fact, anyone who enjoys using a camera regularly will do it. It's not even the old principle that "a blind squirrel finds an acorn every now and then," either, because it's part of the way photography works. We're all out there waiting for the magic to happen. The great art photographer Sally Mann once told me that she "never knows where that next great shot is coming from," she only knows it's out there. An acquaintance showed me her daughter's phone snap of her granddaughter not long ago, and I said, "That's a great photograph." (It was, too. I should know, I told her, I'm an expert.)
Moments of greatness are not denied to anyone, when you think of it. Get out, shoot, shoot some more, maybe some more after that, and sooner or later, or perhaps later than that, the reward will come. The magic happens, like a gift from the Universe. When it does it's just a great big kick, one satisfying treat. It's one of the best things about photographing. Keeps us coming back.
Damn, I'm inspiring myself. I gotta get outside!
Mike
Original contents copyright 2019 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:
Gordon Lewis: "Great analogy, Mike. I just think you should have mentioned the obvious corollary: The difference between pros and most amateurs is that the pro is expected to perform at a high level consistently, even under adverse conditions, whereas the amateur can be satisfied with only occasional flashes of brilliance. Another hopefully encouraging thought is that the best photographers are careful not to show their out-takes, while we ourselves are all too aware of our own. Make a consistent practice of editing the wheat from the chaff and you're likely to feel a lot better about your work."
John Fleming: "Any time you want to post a 'Your shot of the day' please feel free. I enjoy these very much and, oddly, I was looking at a couple of these just yesterday as I had saved your links to them."
John Camp: "You're absolutely correct about all of this. I've played golf for a long time, and I once remarked to a fellow golfer that every single time I go out, I hit a shot that Tiger Woods would have taken at the height of his career—roll in a 20-foot putt, chip to a couple of inches, etc. But that 'doing it all the time' thing is the big catch in life."
Speed: "My favorite lucky shots are the ones I don't even remember taking. They make up for all the great shots that weren't."
Richard Skoonberg: "One of the great art photographers, whom I have had a chance to work with, Chip Simone, talks about finding the 'gift of the day' when he goes out shooting. Truly no one knows where that next great image is going to be found. It is a gift."
