The Online Photographer

RIP Panasonic G9 (and a Few Other Follow-Ups)

The original Panasonic G9

To expand on a few items on the last few posts:

—> A number of people asked what I meant by the comment about "the new site." We're working on overhauling The Online Photographer. The plan is to create a new version of this same blog more in line with modern potentials and with readers' desires and suggestions, yet also adjusted for current interests among younger photography enthusiasts in the culture. Specifically, one that offers:

• A new look
• Mobile-friendliness
• Larger (enlargeable to full screen) images
• An option for you to sign up to be notified by email of new posts with their titles and a brief description of their content
• Content more in line with the wishes of a majority of readers (and, um, a little less indulgent of Yr. Hmbl. Writer's peculiarities and peccadilloes)
  
• More immediate comment posting
• A possible option for a permanent web shop for ongoing print sales, including sales not just of my prints but also editions of prints by readers and expert printmakers suggested by readers.

Probably something I should have done years ago, but better late than never.

—> That idea of losing weight by eating nothing after 5:00 p.m. is called "time-restricted eating" (TRE), "time-restricted feeding" (TRF), or "intermittent fasting" in case you want to research it further on your own. A basic pair of videos on the subject are: "Time-Restricted Eating Put to the Test" and "The Benefits of Early Time Restricted Eating." It was how I lost 55 lbs. in 2020–21.

—> Edsel (in the title of the previous post but unexplained), intended to be a separate automobile brand, was created by Ford Motor Company in the late 1950s. After an extensive and expensive promotional buildup, which created high expectations, the first model was a big fat flop, in part because its radiator was thought to resemble (I'm sorry, there's no polite way to put this) a certain part of the female anatomy...possibly one of those notions that "can't be unheard" once people hear it, whether that was fair or not. Edsel Ford was Henry Ford's son and had been a progressive in the company prior to it becoming a publicly traded corporation. Ever since, the Edsel, along with New Coke, has been synonymous with crash-and-burn marketing failures.

—> And finally, the original Panasonic G9 really is an appealing bargain right now. It's a unique camera the form and control layout of which has been abandoned by Panasonic in the refresh (they also orphaned their GX8 which I personally loved), but it was designed and built to be the "stills" top-of-the-line when it was introduced six years ago. It's a very persuasive and highly competent working tool, assuming you can deal with complex and fully-featured cameras. The viewfinder is luxuriously generous, and the hand-feel with the oversize grip is great. And the price of $898 is a stone steal, not only compared to the original selling price when it was introduced, but also compared to full-price mid-level cameras and even entry-level kits. It's way cheaper than a Fuji X100V and the same price as a Sony A6400. It's simply a hell of a lot of camera for not very much dosh at all. The huge number and variety of Micro 4/3 lenses is highly satisfying for aficionados to play around in. Personally, I'd start out with a two-lens "nested" kit: the tiny 20mm (40mm-e) to make the combination light and portable when you're doing other things but want to carry a camera around, and the Leica 12–60mm (24–120mm-e) as an ideal do-everything lens for when you're out doing nothing but photographing. There's even a less expensive 12–60mm for those who can't spring for the Leica one. Either way, it's really nice to have 120mm-equivalent reach with a smallish normal zoom. It's preferable to the 12–35mm (24–70mm) that I have. I love that lens, but I admit I often felt constrained by the 70mm-e limit in the landscape up here where I live.

I realize this is a very niche product in today's environment, but the whole notion of the "outgoing camera that's a great bargain" has a powerful nostalgic appeal! This used to happen so often back in the glory days of the digital camera market. I'm sure most of you remember.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Grant: "Not only is the G9 a good price, it includes a free battery grip and you can extend the warranty to three years at no cost."

Dave Millier: "My G9 is a wonderful camera and one I pick up in preference to my Fuji GFX50s for everything except long exposures. If you are working from a tripod, the in-camera pixel shift reduces aliasing and noise and extends dynamic range by a couple of stops, yielding images on a par with full frame high-res cameras, and has the convenience of everything merged automatically into a large raw file. The grip and overall feel is amazing. I use mine primarily with the 14–140mm superzoom as an alternative to a bridge camera. It doesn't feel bulky or heavy at all (much less so than an A7rII for some reason).

"It does have one ergonomic flaw that it shares with the FZ1000 Mark II: the Canon-style front command dial is just ever-so-slightly too far towards the rear of the camera. Because the grip has a huge overhang below the shutter release, I find it requires a shift of the hand to reach it if I want to avoid arthritis-inducing pressure on the joints through stretching for the dial. The new G9 has a similar-looking front dial arrangement around the shutter release as the older G7. I found the G7 arrangement more comfortable than the G9. On such tiny details does perfection hang...."

Simon Grosset: "I learned from a Panasonic rep that the lovely little LX100 II is also discontinued. Apparently there’s a part inside it that is provided by a third party supplier, and they’re no longer making that part. So Panasonic have been forced to stop making the camera."

Mike replies: I have an expensive Accuphase integrated amp that's apparently useful only as a boat anchor for a similar reason. The little IC that controls the turn-on delay mechanism is wonky, like it is in most of these, and it's not available any more. The circuit can supposedly be painstakingly rebuilt by hand, but it costs $600 plus shipping both ways, which was another $170.

And I don't even have a boat!

Speaking of unobtainable parts, and boats, another story: My mother bought a gorgeous Peugeot 604 back in the '80s that I totally loved. Leather seats and a marvelous floaty suspension, and a great big greenhouse which spoiled me forever after, even though it would no doubt have killed me in a rollover accident. My brother managed to run the car into a stopped car in front of him at a stoplight, and the parts evidently had to come from France by boat. It took months and months. I think it was seven months before my mother got the car back.

I learned that if you're going to buy a used car, make sure it is one that sold well—and locally—when it was new. I've even suggested finding your mechanic first and then asking them what car to buy! They'll tell you to buy whatever they like working on and can get parts for. My mechanic here specializes in Toyotas and Hondas, so it'd be Toyotas and Hondas for me.

Don't Shoot Film? It's Okay. You Can Relax.

So just a little gentle admonishment. I have lots of readers, and y'all do different things and have different histories. Some of you even photograph flowers and cats, or use Rodinal!

I kid.

All right, all right
Some of my readers shoot film. A few of them, like me, liked darkroom work—we found it a positive pleasure for its own sake. Even if we aren't graced with darkrooms in our current circumstances. This is okay.

Some shoot with view cameras. Because they like the process. I already told you the story of how I got suckered into writing an "anti-view-camera" article once, at, let me see, the original Camera & Darkroom magazine, for Ana Jones who was the editor then. It was proposed to me as one half of a "pro/con" pair of articles, and Ron Wisner of Wisner Classic Manufacturing Co., a builder of bespoke view cameras of high Edwardian style, was supposed to write the counterpart "pro" article. But Ron never came through on his promises, so Ana went ahead and published my "con" article by itself. As a stand-alone article, it made me out to be a hater! It alienated many view camera photographers, understandably, making them think that I was unsympathetic to their beloved niche. Actually, though, I kinda love large format. I certainly have an appreciation for view camera work (what, I'm going to hate Weston and Watkins and all the others?!), and I absolutely have no quarrel with people who choose to center their hobby or their art on large format! Then or now. So using view cameras is okay too.

But if you don't shoot film any more, look...it's okay...you don't have to respond to every film article by saying "I hated/loved film/darkroom but I shoot digital now and it gives me so much more control and it's cheaper and...." It's okay. We know. We all shoot digital now. I adore my handheld digital 4x5 view camera (by the way, "Paddleboarder on the Outlet" now has 9,884 views and 228 Favorites) and I actually adore my iPhone camera too. Digital won. So there's no need to treat every mention of film like it's a call to battle. Maybe it used to be. But not now. The war is over.

So...
If you come across an article on film or darkroom here, and you aren't interested, maybe you could just treat it like it's not for you. It's for somebody else. It's for the people who still like and/or work in film or in the darkroom. If you're not one of those, that's okay; everyone understands. You don't need to rise to the defense of digital.

I'm saying all this with a smile and a chuckle, not at all angrily or stridently, so don't get that wrong. I do like it when we can find something new that everyone wants to talk about for a day or two; but a lot of topics are minority topics. Aren't there a few other topics I cover occasionally that have zero interest for you personally? I know some readers won't read about sports, or hate the WFPB posts, or pool, jazz, Miatas, or vintage stereo speakers. So just treat the film/darkroom posts like one of those. With each of those things, there's some percentage of readers, some small subset of the set of everyone, who enjoy them. How about you, don't you also enjoy one or two of the off-topic subjects? Why lowriders bounce? Romance at the movies? Lee Sandlin? So you can understand that the film/darkrooms posts please somebody, somewhere.

A.V. Shirk in his darkroom, 1974. I had an enlarger like that
once. (I found this picture on Wikimedia Commons.)

So anyway, don't stress. I want to write about film photography sometimes. I don't want it to be off limits. I want to write about vintage eBay film cameras. I want to write about large format. Occasionally, not frequently. I even want to write about ye olde darkroom that apparently horrified so many people (in 1979, the peak of the darkroom hobby, the then-leading magazine estimated that there were 250,000 small private darkrooms in the USA. Soon after, there were not one but two US darkroom newsstand magazines). I don't want to have to field a bunch of comments about how glad you are that film is gone or how superior digital is every time the old ways crop up. If you don't want to read about that stuff, I get it. I understand you might not have any interest any more. But relax. If you don't care, somebody else might! Find a little sympathy in your heart for them.

A blog is like the weather in Scotland. If you don't like it, wait a while, and it will change.

Cheers!

Mike

P.S. Although I get on my high horse every now and then, and sometimes lecture about things, I seldom lecture at people. So if this made you feel lectured at, I apologize!

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Dirt Track Picture Update

A little update on the picture in the last post. "Mennonite Boys Watching Dirt-Track Racing" was picked for Flickr's "Explore" feature, and now has 16,824 18,449 views and has been picked as a "Favorite" by 427 456 viewers. Since Flickr counts popularity by number of Favorites, that means it's my most popular picture on Flickr.

Pretty nice. Weird, though, that it doesn't really do my Flickr Photostream or the blog any good. If someone clicks on my image from Explore, and then clicks right or left, what they see is what's next to my picture on the Explore page, not more of my pictures. Also, despite a new link in the image description (I got explicit permission from Flickr, in order to avoid the potential for difficulties), I haven't seen any additional traffic to TOP.

No biggie. But I thought it was interesting. Pool day today! More anon.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

More Will Be Revealed

Re the expert vs. teacher discussion, one more small thing: in compiling a list of tips, not every tip is useful for everyone. Someone saying they know what's good for everyone would be like teaching a left-handed pool player and saying, "most successful players use their right hand; therefore you should switch to your right hand." Everyone is different, and everyone needs to work out for themselves what works for them. Most successful shooters have done that. Teachers only help, they don't dictate. Learning is ultimately up to the student.

A second point: proof's in the pudding, as they say. If you do everything wrong, but the work comes out right, then you're right. I or someone else might object to things you do—for instance, some people say you should not photograph other peoples' children, or you shouldn't be aggressive in a way that angers your subjects—but it's ultimately not up to me or them to tell you or other people what to do. As the Big Book of AA says on page 164, "Our book is meant to be suggestive only. We realize we know only a little." No one knows everything.

A related point is that a person (artist, photographer) might have dumb or wrong ideas and still make good work. Again, decide for yourself whether someone's ideas are worth listening to and might help you, or if you can learn more from simply looking at the work.

Generally, though, if you are eager and willing, there is almost always something more to learn. Personally I hope to never lose the attitude of willing learner.

Mike

CORRECTION: Okay, okay. The proof of the pudding is in the eating. That "as they say" was supposed to signal that I was lampooning the way people botch the saying and get it wrong, like knowingly saying "I could care less" on account of it's a common mindless distortion of "I couldn't care less." Don't you think...well, never mind. Also, to Sean's excellent point about outcome bias, I believe art is one area in which outcome bias is justified. As long as no one gets hurt. One of my father's favorite sayings was "if it works you're right, if it doesn't work you're wrong."

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Sean: "Mike said: 'A second point: proof's in the pudding, as they say. If you do everything wrong, but the work comes out right, then you're right.' That way of thinking is known as outcome bias. Annie Duke, in her book Thinking in Bets, calls the error 'Resulting.'"

Mike replies: I like that book description: "Poker champion turned business consultant Annie Duke teaches you how to get comfortable with uncertainty and make better decisions as a result." Short, sweet, and to the point.

UFOs Do Exist (OT)

The Northrop Tacit Blue used to be a real UFO. Not any more, though.

I apologize! I didn't mean to leave the "Aliens" post at the top of the page for two days. TypePad's compositor was down for unscheduled maintenance yesterday smack dab in the middle of the time I had blocked out for writing. And I promise, this will be the last post on this topic.

As far as aliens are concerned...well, that was very interesting! Thanks to all those who commented. As I often say, I learn more from you than you do from me. However, people have been sending me links to UFO sightings and to various arguments about the existence of flying saucers and so forth—I know you're being kind and helpful, but please, no need. It's not really an interest of mine. No one cares about my beliefs about this, of course, and that's all they are, beliefs—but my personal beliefs are as follows: the chance that there is no life elsewhere in the universe is zero; as far as technological civilizations that we would recognize as such on other worlds, the chance that have existed or do exist in other solar systems is 100%; the chance that we will ever make contact with an alien civilization with which we can communicate is zero; the chance that any observed UFO is in any way connected to extraterrestrial civilizations is zero; and the chance that human life (even over many generations) will ever travel even one light-year is zero. Well, maybe I'll say that last one is infinitesimally above zero, as a nod to Ben Marks. He's right that the past cannot even imagine the future. Heck, it took me a while to wrap my mind around the WWW when I first experienced it.

If you have different beliefs, rock on. You don't have to convince me of yours and I won't convince you of mine.

However, do you remember our friend Dave Levingston? I wrote this about him during his last visit: "In his work life, Dave was a civilian Public Affairs official for the Air Force. An interesting part of his purview was that if you called Wright-Patterson AFB looking for information about UFOs, Dave was a guy you might end up talking to." It turns out that ET enthusiasts who sense that the Air Force is keeping secrets are correct. However, it's not what they think. Can you imagine catching sight of a stealth bomber before it was introduced to the public? You might call the Air Force, and they would be evasive about it, and you might come away thinking there's something they're not telling you. So, are there UFOs in the skies of America? You betcha. There always are. However, Occam's Razor applies. Occam's Razor is basically as follows: "when you hear hoofbeats, don't think zebras."

At the Air Force Museum in Dayton, there's an airplane on display called Tacit Blue. From the front, Tacit Blue looks like an artist's conception of a flying saucer; from the side, it's shaped like a fat stogie. It doesn't look much like a plane. It was an early-eighties development mule for the stealth warplanes and various battlefield sensor systems. The Air Force flew it mainly at night so it couldn't be photographed, out of an Air Force base that didn't exist, by pilots who weren't on record at the time. And guess what? A common description people gave for UFO sightings in those years was that it was something "cigar shaped."

One of Tacit Blue's nicknames was "the alien schoolbus." If you'd spotted it in the sky in the years before it was declassified, you would have seen, yup, a real, honest-to-Uncle-Sam UFO.

So what's up there now? Something is. A select few people know, but they're certainly not telling. When you hear hoofbeats, though, it's probably a horse.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Bryan Geyer: "Very well said, Mike, but when you're visiting California's Hearst Castle, those hoofbeats are most certainly not horses...."

Mike replies: Okay, then maybe it should be, "when you hear hoofbeats, don't think onager." (An onager is an undomesticated Asiatic wild ass.)

Ernest Zarate (partial comment): "This at least can have the charm and delight of childhood imagination. Aliens from other parts of our solar system/galaxy/universe come in a myriad of shapes, sizes, colors, intentions, and results on us. Well, why not? They can be malevolent, benign, evil, helpful, hellbent on our utter destruction, offering a helpful hand to our woebegone world, utterly indifferent to our struggles, and many other shades of…us. Like our gods, we draw from what we know best: us. And we use that knowledge of us (flawed as it is) to create kind, or mean, creatures from other worlds. I can’t blame us—what else are we going to use? Just like those of the past can’t imagine the future, we humans are poorly equipped to imagine any kind of being other than us, here and now. But, as I said, as far as tinfoil hat fantasies go, this one is pretty innocent, and has created some enjoyable flights of fantasy in literature, film, TV, and storytelling. So, if it floats your boat, go for it. That’s my belief."

Marcelo Guarini: "Here is a nice, interesting opinion: 'Most Aliens May Be Artificial Intelligence, Not Life as We Know It.'"

Mike replies: Fascinating. Thanks.

Mike Plews: "For many years my conception on the solar system was strongly influenced by one of those mechanical models that seemed to show up in about every junior high school in the country. They had plenty wrong with them. Circular orbits and scale being the principal issues. I am delighted at the idea that if they were built to scale, Pluto would be seven miles away, and that's just our solar system. I am sure we are not alone, but also equally sure that I won't be shaking tentacles with any aliens soon. Love it, don't know if it's true but I did see it on the internet so it is probably true. ;-) "

Jim Arthur: "Your mention of Dave's role as a Public Affairs official reminded me of a comedic episode of an old TV show called The X-Files. In this episode, Alex Trebek and Jesse 'The Body' Ventura roam the country working as Men in Black. Their job is to 'educate' folks who claim to have seen a UFO. I have to wonder, does Dave own a black fedora or drive a vintage Cadillac? Just curious.  :-)  "

Mike replies: Come to think of it, fedora, check; Cadillac, yes...OH...MY...GOD!!!

Ed Kreminski (partial comment): "I have run into way too many folks in the medical system that would do better at diagnosis if they didn’t always assume that lower percentage chances of disease presentation were always zero. Apparently they all got the Occam’s Razor talk as residents."

DavidB: "A lot of advanced aircraft testing takes place in Nevada. Some of these locations are within range of several weather surveillance radars. We could tell when they were flying because they would throw a lot of Electronic Counter Measures (e.g., chaff) in the air as well as pushing out signals that would interfere with our radar. Using a few different radars, you could triangulate on where the activity was taking place."

Albert Smith: "I was in the US Air Force and worked in flight test back when many aircraft that we all know about now were still secret. The real 'UFO' false identification champion was the at the time unknown to the public F-117. The jet was flown from a site that was at the time not so well known (now the Discovery Channel has 10 shows a week about it) and mostly at night. In silhouette, the black F-117 could take on the classic saucer shape when seen head on or from the rear.

"I was able to see the Stealth Fighter while still in the development stage, so we knew how chance sightings could be interpreted by the general public. False UFO reports were better than having a program become public before it should. My time in this job made me less likely to believe in actual extra terrestrial visitors. I believe in the potential based simply on the math, just that they're not flying around on this planet mutilating cattle and abducting hillbillies."

Dan Khong: "If your 'Aliens' post had stayed there any longer, we would have had to assume that it caught the attention of one of them inhabitants of one of them 100 billion stars. Then one came in one of those crafts that look like the one above and took you away."

Mike replies: I'm still here, for now, but yesterday during my writing time, TypePad was down, and today, again during my writing time, we had a power outage for no apparent reason....

Lothar Adler: "Isn't it strange that your June 10 Aliens report prompted more interest and comments, 72 by today's count, than the June 8 Pentax Monochrome report, 16 comments? Does that tell us anything? And if so, why not....  :-)  "

Mike replies: No, actually that's very predictable. A new and unforeseen topic often generates a lot of response because it hasn't been discussed here and there's been little opportunity for readers to share opinions on that subject. (Although I think I've asked people for sci-fi book recommendations before.) Whereas, with other subjects and digital B&W in particular, we've kinda done it to death around here and everyone has had multiple opportunities to hear my opinion and share theirs.

Pretty Little Pinhole Photo

A couple of pictures from the Comments that I would like to...well, comment on.

Photo by Darlene Almeda

First up is this lovely thing from regular reader Darlene. Darlene Almeda is one of those rare photographers who manages to be an accomplished professional and also an art photographer doing personal work. (Carl Weese is another like that*.) This is Darlene's picture from Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day. I think it's remarkably successful, speaking as one who has never really cared for pinhole photographs all that much**. This uses the natural softness of the image to good advantage, implying a vintage look with appropriate subject matter, tonality, and color, and I think flare really does complement the pinhole "look" well. An exceptionally nice pinhole photograph any way you cut it, and to do it "on demand" to celebrate a specific day shows impressive skill.

The other one I didn't want anyone to miss, a very different kind of photograph, is this visual by reader Niels of the Friedlander books he owns:

Photo by Niels

Awesome. You could actually be a meaningful photobook collector by only collecting Friedlander books...not only his own (although that would be a formidable task***), but books in which he is represented or discussed. It would be enough to absorb a collector.

Here's what he says about it:

"I wish you didn't do this [he means that I mentioned the new book selected by Joel Coen —Ed.]. This one hadn't reached my radar. I already have more Friedlander books than I feel I should, but I enjoy his work too much. This is what my Friedlander stack looked like at World Photobook Day (Oct. 14) last year. Two additional books were added since then. America By Car is the most expensive photobook I own. The 2010 Whitney show reached Copenhagen in 2012. The show blew my mind, but the book was long out of print. I was hoping for a reprint, but the price of the out-of-print version just kept climbing—to the point were it was approaching the price of the oversized signed special edition. So I finally caved in and forked over $395 for the special edition. It took me eight years to make that purchase decision and I am happy to say that I don't regret it."

Most of Niels' books I don't have, a few I haven't seen, and a couple I didn't even know about! (I will say that Cherry Blossom Time in Japan is my most expensive of his books and one of my least favorite. Anybody want to buy it? They're hard to find. My favorite of his books is Like a One-Eyed Cat, which amounts to a sort of representative sampler of his 35mm work up to the time it was published. Delightful, and I've memorized it. Amazingly, it is still affordable. Go figure.

Mike

*Generally, my take on this has been that most professionals who claim they also do personal expressive work are saying so for marketing purposes, mainly, and are actually pretty lame at it...and, from the other direction, that many art photographers who claim they can do professional work are usually just chasing the paycheck without the professional/business chops to really do justice to the client's needs. Almost all photographers like to think they can do any kind of photography—we're typically very bad at knowing our strengths and weaknesses and, er, focusing (sorry) on what we do best. Most pros are pros, and most art photographers are art photographers. It's rare that one person is good at both...although there have been some famous photographers who do both very capably, such as Irving Penn or Martin Parr. A lot of the pure artists you know from history also did commissioned work for clients, including even Ansel Adams, Elliott Erwitt, and Diane Arbus. Lee Friedlander started out shooting record covers. Well, I could go on (as you know, I do go on), but let's stop there.

**Mostly, successful pinhole photos strike me as blurry pictures that would have been better sharper. Darlene's is one exception. But don't let me discourage you; you do you.

***Unless you were to pay him for it. I'm pretty sure I heard that Lee's son Erik, who is a fantastic jazz cellist by the way—he's involved in the experimental downtown music scene in NYC and often plays with John Zorn—is helping Lee sell full sets of all his books put together from all the remainders Lee has stuffed in his house. That's going to set you back about as much as a nice new car, but it's the easy way to get all the books at once.

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Dogman: "The only one of those Lee Friedlander books pictured that I don't have is Lee Friedlander & Pierre Bonnard. Why? Well, it was probably too expensive at the time and I'm living on retirement income, so.... Despite the dearth of dollars, I recall buying The First Fifty [a catalogue of Friedlander's first 50 books —Ed.] and counting how many of them I did not have. The answer: very few. One is even autographed. (I'm such a groupie.) I've told my wife that when I kick the bucket she should get my photo book collection appraised and sell it to fund something she wants. God knows I've spent a fortune on books that only I enjoy. By that way the new L.F. book is gorgeous! Just buy the damn thing, OK?"

Mike replies: I already did.

Gary Nylander: "Re: your comment on most professionals who claim they also do personal expressive work. I'm guilty of doing that. For over forty years I worked as a newspaper photographer and on my time off for 30 of those years I pursued my own personal photography shooting black-and-white landscapes, Ansel Adams style. To be honest my personal work was crap and I would never have made it as an artist as I didn't have the talent. It's a good thing I stuck with my day job as a newspaper photographer because it's what ended up paying the rent and putting food on the table plus other associated financial bills for day-to-day living."

Mike replies: At least you managed to make a career as a shooting photographer, which is more than most of us ever manage!

'Blur' Baker's Dozen Deadline is Tonight...

...at 11:59.

The entries have continued to pour in without stopping. I'm pretty sure this one has received more entries than any other we've ever done. And I'm actually now getting entries that people went out and shot this past week specifically for the Baker's Dozen. With a great many of them, my initial reaction is, "Wow—well, that one has to go in the final set." I've had that reaction with a lot more than 13 of them. Lots of great stuff.

Final dust-has-cleared numbers for the prizes:

• $200 for First prize,
• $125 for Second, and
• $75 for Third.

That's thanks to Mark Banas, Anonymous, Anonymous, Richard Parkin, Anonymous, John Gillooly, James Weekes, Bob Burnett, and Christopher May. And TOP. Thanks to all the GoFundMe contributors! I'll save the overage for the next one.

Should help pay for a lens. Or at least a dinner for you and one or two photographer friends.

As previously announced, I will pick the final 13 that will appear here and Hugh Crawford will pick the prize recipients from among the 13. 

I think that's everything you need to know, except I should mention that I'm grateful, because it's a lot of fun to hear from you and see your work. I will have some thoughts about the aesthetics of blurry pictures in due course.

If you have any questions email me at mcjohnston at mac dot com. I'll close the comments on this post.

Mike

Centimeters and Inches

Okay, I have to say I was completely delighted that in response to yesterday's post, almost everybody objected to the incorrect measurement conversion. Not to any of the other blatant exaggerations. Not to the 20 days of rain (actually it was four); not to the 90-HP lawnmower (that's in the high range for a  traditionally sized farm tractor); not the grass growing to the height of the roof and later, to the height of the oak trees (turf grass maxes out at about 24 inches, and it's neither healthy nor manageable when it's that long); not the sinkholes that I could allegedly drive down into and back out of again (the largest actual pothole in my yard, for which I blame the gophers that live under the shed, is actually about the size of a mixing bowl); not the Mennonite and his team of horses (there has never been a horse in my yard that I know of); not the bad back putting me in traction (back trouble did land me on crutches once, thirty years ago); and not the 4.5-inch per hour rainfall (1.5 inches in 20 minutes x 3, which considerably exceeds the heaviest rain ever measured on Earth). All of that passed by without comment, while a dozen people took me to task for "not knowing" that one centimeter does not equal one inch!

...Which I realize, though, was probably not all that funny a joke. It actually occurred to me yesterday that although I have a sense of humor that is easily piqued, and I laugh at things a lot, and am delighted by the strangeness of the world and by the behavior of humans, I'm not actually a funny guy. I wish I were; sometimes I try. But I don't think I succeed very well. Ah well, I guess it's for the best that I don't try to write amusing posts all that often. I'm not even a good joke-teller, and telling jokes doesn't seem like it should be all that difficult. I can't even remember jokes very well. ("Why can't people remember jokes?" might be an interesting question to Google.)

I like lawn
However, good news to report: I got all the grass cut yesterday, and got some more mulching done, as well as a lot of raking. I have mulching blades on the John Deere, but the regular mower, a Honda, does a much better job of mulching leaves.

As for the advice that I should turn the lawn into prairie, the problem then would be that it would no longer be lawn. The main thing I use the yard for is throwing the ball for the dog, and he already loses balls regularly in the woods and the various areas that are grown up with ground cover, and sometimes under the pool table shed. Sometimes he wanders away with the ball in his mouth and comes back without it! He forgets where he put it and can't find it again. Generally, though, I like lawn. I had one small area that the previous owner fancied to be a "wildflower garden," and it had become an impenetrable thicket of goldenrod. Three years ago I mowed it in the spring, avoiding the peonies, which had been completely invisible behind all the goldenrod. And kept mowing it. No more goldenrod thicket. It's a much more attractive little patch of ground now, although any gardener worth his or her salt would have added many more flowering plants to it by now.

And, actually, I like yardwork, too. My usual strategy with the lawn is to cut it in sections, dividing it up into about five or six areas. Every nice day I'll go out and work on one section, get it cut and trimmed and neatened. That's about the limit of my patience and energy. Then the next time it's dry and sunny I'll do another section. This strategy mostly works. This time, however, because the grass is growing so fast right now, I had to do it all in two days, which is rather a project. Now that it's done, I'm safe for a week or so.

I've had professional gardeners come several times, and that's very rewarding—they do such a nice job, and it also inspires me to do more work myself. But it's frightfully expensive. I have way, way too much yard—it was because Sara had lived in a townhouse and wanted more room for gardens. We went too far the other way when choosing this house. I wouldn't have bought this house with all its gardens if I had known I'd be living here alone. If I could, I'd build a small house on half the property and sell it. Can't sell just the land, because someone would build a monstrosity on it and ruin my house. That's one more thing I'd do with resources, I guess. As it is, I should get rid of half the gardens. But that's expensive too. Change is usually expensive.

The yard will probably be the reason I'll have to move, eventually. Know what kind of house I fantasize about? One optimized to be efficient, low-maintenance, and easy to take care of. Those are not high priorities in home building. In fact, I'm going to write a whole post on that subject one day. 

Anyway, I'm just rambling. Back to regular programming soon.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Cab: "For what it's worth, I thought the inch = cm joke was the funniest bit in the column. I was almost positive you were joking, but if you weren't, that just makes it funnier (although in a much sadder way...)!"

Jeff1000: "I realized a long time ago that you lack a sense of humor. Usually, humor comes with intelligence, but I can see that humor is not a prerequisite."

Mike replies: In the question alone, there is insufficient evidence to deduce an answer. What kind of road is it? Is there traffic on the road? Can you cite studies concluding that chickens even have a working mental concept of what a "road" is? Was the chicken being chased? Were other chickens crossing the road with it, constituting a group, in which case the chicken might reasonably be considered to have been under the influence of peer pressure? What was on the other side of the road that might have acted as an inducement to the chicken to cross over? Until we know more about the context it would be nonsensical to formulate an answer. Therefore the question is not valid on its face and the proper response is to ignore it.

Ed Hawco: "Aw, Mike. I love your silly exaggerations and faux-errors (your 'correction' that it’s actually 180HP is hilarious). Please don’t take the un-heardness of our laughter as no laughter at all.

"Regarding the comments correcting your metric conversion, that’s classic 21st-century 'commentitis' in which people have an uncontrollable urge to correct apparent mistakes via comments, no matter what the context. For example, there was a meme going around Facebook recently in which we see a close-up photo of the face of the Statue of Liberty next to a close-up of the face of actor Owen Wilson. There’s a striking resemblance. But the caption reads, 'When you realize the statue of Mona Lisa looks like Keith Urban.' It’s obviously a mind-f*ck, and a hilarious one. But check the comments on the original post. 80% of them are people helpfully pointing out that the photos are incorrectly labelled. The other 20% as basically people doing face-palms to the 80%. Lesson: many people take things at face value, completely missing the point of subtle (or not so subtle) humor. And many people have an uncontrollable urge to offer corrections in comments. What’s not seen are the many, many people who just laughed and moved on."

Scott: "'I, for one, greatly enjoyed your successfully humorous post,' Scott, Blog comment on theonlinephotographer.com, 2023-04-27."

Henning: There are various precipitation measurements that are well over 4.5 in. per hour. Here is one that is about 16" in an hour. Clearly, it's not going to be about lawn tending anymore if that kind of rain comes down. Keuka Lake would be around your knees in short order. Fun post, in any case."

Kye Wood: "Late to the party here—but here goes. You are funny. If you think you're not, then you must be stupid. Seeing as how you're not stupid, then you must be funny. It's just math.

"Next, I have a photographic memory (true). When it comes up in conversation, I sometimes say I have a 'photogenic' memory. It's an attempt to be both dry and self deprecating. Sometimes, humourless people will tell me, 'Don't you mean you have a photographic memory?' To which, I have at times replied 'No, it's photogenic—I only remember people who look good in photographs.' Which has the unfortunate side effect of them thinking that I am either shallow, or a complete idiot. Both of which I am comfortable being thought of because I'm 57, so who do I have to impress?

"Keep on being funny Mike. You have no idea how important a little brightness might be in someone's day."

Peter Croft: "The funny thing is, I believed everything you wrote. That is, until you said the centimetres thing, which being in Australia, a metric country, I knew to be just a little exaggerated."

Rick Rubin's Ruthless Edit

Here's a YouTube "Short" featuring record producer Rick Rubin, former co-president of Columbia Records and co-founder of Def Jam Recordings, outlining essentially the same method of editing that I called "The Big Hits Method" in the post "How to Edit 500–1,000 Shots" the other day. He calls it "The Ruthless Edit" and notes that "it can be used for anything."

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

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The Jeff Keller Article

I managed to track down Jeff Keller, who told me that the article I remembered is actually on DPReview, where he worked for almost nine years, beginning right after he closed the Digital Camera Resource Page—which, by the way, was the very first camera megasite, and lasted an impressive 15 years. (TOP is 17 years, 3 months, and 26 days old). Which made me slap my forehead and say, "of course." Not only did I read it when it first appeared, but I wrote about it once before, too. The brain cells where that information was once stored are apparently among the ones now missing.

It's called "Throwback Thursday: the ups and downs of running DCResource."

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

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I'm Team Process... (More on Process vs. Project)

That was a very rewarding discussion yesterday about "process vs. project," and I'd like to thank JH again, as well as Nick Hartmann and everyone else who commented, whether featured or not. As you can probably tell, I've been trying to figure out what kind of writer I want to be for the rest of my life.

Very interesting that our friend* Kirk Tuck said, "I have to be the most project driven person I know." Kirk is just the nicest and most considerate guy, and I think I'm pretty friendly too, and when he and I talk on the phone the conversations are very warm and tend to go on for quite a while. Yet there is an undeniable tension in our attitudes to each other when we're discussing ideas in writing. I think we may have just hit on the reason, because I can echo what he said, but in the opposite direction: I have to be the most process-driven person I know. JH said, in a private email, "It’s not binary but a continuum, however most people are not in the middle." I'm way over on the process side. I don't even like "closure" at all: to put it bluntly, I dislike finishing anything. I like things to stay open-ended, because that way they're still alive; change is still possible, they can still evolve, you can still think about them some more, still be creative, still catch and fix your errors, and so on. It's only very reluctantly, and with disappointment and misgivings, that I will come to a hard stop and concede that something is done.

It's possible that the reason I liked being a magazine editor so much is that it counteracted my process-driven tendencies. Each issue was a project. There was a series of defined hard deadlines for every issue (I still dream sometimes of missing them), and there were people to help get each deadline met. Then, when the issue was printed, it was done: there was no more possibility for change. I could let go of it because I had to. If all of it had been up to me, on the other hand, every issue probably would have been late and half of them wouldn't have gotten done at all!

It's not that I can't work. I've told this story before, but when I was a freshman at Dartmouth had the honor of attending a meet-and-greet with Saul Bellow, who had just won the Nobel Prize in Literature. I waited in line after the breakfast to ask him a specific question, but I didn't get my chance, because the guy in front of me asked the exact question I wanted to ask: what's the best way to become a writer? Mr. Bellow didn't hesistate: "Write three million words." The guy who asked the question argued with that, but Mr. Bellow gave his reasons and didn't budge on the concept. The requirement was practice, and lots of it.

I was disappointed, because of course I was eighteen and wanted to be famous yesterday, but I headed right back to my dorm room, counted the words on a typed page (about 400), did some calculations, and determined that if wrote two typed pages a day, I'd be at three million words in slightly over ten years. I got right to work. Writing became a daily habit, and has stayed that way.

But then there was another problem. What the heck was I going to do with all that writing? I certainly didn't want to be responsible for it—keep it, catalogue it, store it. (Three million words with 400 words on a page is 7,500 pieces of paper, for one thing.) So I started writing letters. That way, I figured, each day's work was done and out the door in a day or three, and I didn't have to worry about it any further. It allowed me to get on to the next one.

I also wrote a lot of short stories, having the vague idea that that was how writers got started, and I might have made the switch to another kind of writing at a certain point. My girlfriend in art school wanted to get married soon and have six children, which greatly worried me. At that time in my life, I couldn't even support myself, much less myself and seven other people. (Ah, feckless youth—it never occurred to me that I could stay with her and not necessarily go along with her plan.) I knew enough about writers at that time to know how they work: John Camp described it in his comment two days ago. I had already met Larry McMurtry, and Larry's method was to write five new pages a day and revise the previous fifteen, meaning that he went over everything three times after composing it. I figured at the time that if I married Gina, I could pick a type of book, keep writing my two pages a day and revising six, and just keep letting them add up into books until the books started doing well. That was the wild card, though—I had no idea if, and when, they would ever start earning money. It got me no further toward a solution to my immediate problem. I honestly had no faith in my ability to earn a living at that point, and instead of courageously devoting myself to the one I loved and shoving off into the unknown seas of a great adventure, I broke up with her—a despicable, defeatist, cowardly thing to do, because I really did love her. (Although very bright, she's dyslexic, so there's little chance she'll ever read this.) Something I still deeply regret, all these years later. (Everything bad that happens to me in my romantic life I ascribe to karma, repayment for my perfidy. I'll either forgive myself someday, or else someday I'll die.)

I'm pretty comfortable with the idea that I've easily averaged 800 words a day, lifetime, even if it's a thousand words one day and six hundred the next, or whatever. (This post is about 1,500 words.) If I do the arithmetic for the 47 years between the day I met Saul Bellow and today, that's about 14 million words in my lifetime, give or a couple of million. Even if we put it at 500 words a day, which I think is too conservative, that's still 9,500,000 words since I was 14. So I surpassed Saul's Dictum a long time ago. Put in my 10,000 hours, in Gladwell-speak.

But you've probably detected already that "writing letters" is something I'm still doing, more or less.

Because that's another thing I learned too late: only practice exactly what it is you want to do, because that exact thing is what your practice will train you to do. Practice by writing letters, and you won't get good at writing novels; you'll get good at writing letters. Blogging is perfect for me because it's just an eternal flow of process. There is no project.

Even my photography is all process. I once got an introduction to John Szarkowski at the Museum of Modern Art, and instead of taking a finished portfolio to show him (I had several), I opted to maximize the opportunity by taking a bunch of bits and pieces of things I was still working on, along with some interesting failures. Very much the wrong move, highly transgressive in light of expected behavior and protocol when an artist is granted an audience with a top curator. But I was much more interested in trying to engage him in a discussion about process than I was in showing off finished work and trying, like everybody else, to entice him to buy something for the Museum's collection. That didn't seem nearly as much fun. Big mistake, but the impulse was a reflection of who I am and the way I think.

You know, what should happen is this: Kirk and I should write a book together. Call it Game Theory for Photographers, the art of the medium from the divergent perspectives of a highly project-oriented professional and a highly process-oriented teacher-type. I'd be the one to slow it down and chew on all the gristle and edit and rewrite until it's all shiny, and Kirk would be the one to slap it into shape (an outline? What's an outline?) and keep it moving forward and and to drive us up to and over the finish line. (While I wail noooooo!) The only thing is, pace Charlie Ewers' comment on Saturday, it would not be good if Kirk and I ended up killing each other!

Mike

*Just as an aside, according to The Gotti Wars by John Gleeson, in the old Cosa Nostra, introducing a guy as "my friend" meant he was just a schmoe, but if he was introduced as "our friend" it signaled that he was a made man and couldn't be messed with.

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

kirk: "It's wonderful that good friends can disagree so much and yet really enjoy the process of it all. I'm too reactive by far but I can't tell you how much I appreciate MJ's patience with me. It's comforting. And the fact that he's produced wonderful writing for me to savor (and sometimes disagree with) over coffee each morning makes me happy day by day (bird by bird?). Thanks to JH's comment I now get it. There is no right or wrong on the subject of writing. I need to stop believing that there is. Maybe that's the secret to enjoying both process and closure. Thanks Mike!"

Andreas Weber: "I'm leaning far to the process side as well (and a mechanical engineer with quite a lot of projects under my belt...). I may have found the ideal hobby in growing bonsai—they're never finished (unless you manage to kill one)."

Aaron: "You and Kirk would not end up killing each other. Rather, he would accomplish killing you because you would never get past chewing on how and whether to actually do it. Process can get you killed.  :-)  "

John Krumm: "Wonderful and slightly heartbreaking story. I almost succeeded in breaking up with my future wife when we were 21, telling her I wanted to end it after a summer romance. I returned to college 100 miles away, thinking I might get back together with a former girlfriend (shameful, I know). Fortunately, the former girlfriend had transferred, and intense loneliness, a phone call, and a bus ticket intervened, and we are still happily together. I chalk it up to dumb luck more than anything else. Sometimes the process works."

Unexpected Epiphany (Followup)

I apologize for yesterday's post—it was a complaint, and thus annoying to some, and it was too personal—I try to make these posts personable but not personal, always trying to remain aware of how others will relate to them. You have to understand, though: on most days I sit down in the morning with no idea what I'm going to write about, and two or three hours later hit the "Publish" button. (Then, if I like the piece, I'll tinker and toil over little changes throughout the day.) Yesterday I hadn't even mulled it over the evening before, which I sometimes do, because I had planned to republish that "Self and Other" piece about Diane Arbus, not realizing that I'd already done so a few years ago. As my father used to say about his attempts to learn to cook French omelettes the old-fashioned way, "sometimes you get an omelette, sometimes you get a mess of eggs." Yesterday it was the latter, that's all.

However, it did result in a rather surprising epiphany! Last night I abruptly decided that I should stop trying to write books—give up, leave the idea behind.

In my life I have written school papers, essays, letters, a dribble of poetry, short stories, many magazine articles (like 250 all told), forum posts, and blog posts (more than 10,000). All of it short-form writing. That's what I do. That's who I am. As David Vestal often used to say and write: "So, okay."

The longest ever
In the midst of the release of the Harry Potter books, I sent a 50-page draft of the beginning of a novel for adolescents to Scholastic, the publisher of those books in the U.S. I got a rejection slip with a handwritten note on it that said, "This almost made it for us—please keep us apprised of your future projects." I have been wracking my brain, but I believe that that was the longest thing I've ever written that anybody else ever read (assuming they read the whole thing, which I guess is not something I know). On the other end, I took a class at Reed for which we were supposed to write one-page papers. It was maddening—the professor used to pepper the margins of my papers with compliments and praise, and then give me B's and C's. Some sort of didactic strategy, I suppose. It made me contumacious. But I do recall one of his scribbled reactions: "How do you manage to say so much in ONE PAGE?!?" [sic.]

Anyway, I have reached a decision. It's the opposite of what I counseled yesterday—and I will have more to say about persistence vs. quitting in photography tomorrow (or rather Sunday, as I reserve Saturdays to not do housework). No more effort wasted on books, no more daydreams of being an author, no more thinking diverted from short-form pieces. To quote my very early childhood idol, Popeye, I yam what I yam.

And now, I am very late for my exercise class.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

robert e: "My takeaway from all this is that the essential skill is, in the words of Kenny Rogers, '...to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em / Know when to walk away and know when to run.' Perhaps the next lines are also instructive: 'You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table / There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealing's done.' I've tried to read A La Recherche du Temps Perdu at least four times. I suppose that time is lost forever."

T. Edwards: "For what it's worth, I liked yesterday's post and didn't even really notice the 'complaint' portion until I went back and re-read. I loved the Malcolm piece to which you linked and that's what I remembered."

Dave (partial comment): " I hope that this decision, this revelation to give up the long-format, would be a level of freedom for you, a breath of fresh air, if you will...I, for one, applaud your decision to give up and carry on without that burden.... Bravo."

Ben: "I think that learning how to finish things is really important. I'll share a little story....

"My daughter, previously featured on TOP [top picture —Ed.], received an iPad for her ninth birthday, in early 2020. Round about April of that year there were a few things happening in the world, so she decided to start writing a book. She had started several before, but never finished them, so I told her I'd read it when she was done. So every day she sat under a blanket and tapped away with two fingers on glass. Sometime in late June or early July she shared the document with me, all 40,000 words of it. And then she revised it; I went over it with her; she revised it again; her mother proofread it, etc....until late 2021, when I realized that she could just keep revising it every six months, and every six months she'd be a little more sophisticated, have a little better vocabulary, and that this process could go on forever.

"She and I discussed; she decided to commit to her final revision, and we self-published it through print-on-demand. She spent a lot of time on it, and I really feel that finishing a long-term project, and then letting it go, is a skill that I didn't learn until much later in life...and then only in certain things. Not sure if it's all right to post a link to it, but if that's OK, Mike, here it is. She's now revising the sequel, and I'm just a proud dad  :-)  . It's different, I think, to create and then let go of a large, bounded project, than it is to build one over time out of smaller pieces. It's harder to let go of the former, to finally call it finished. But the latter is no less real, no less valuable, and something like this blog, the consistency of creation over time, is a real accomplishment. Something like what William Matthews wrote about Mingus, 'as the work of the body becomes a body of work.' (Apologies if I'm not recalling the quote correctly)."

Another Mike: "Mike, your parents and my parents must have gone to the same parenting school. The very sad fact is that no one gets out of a situation like that without serious damage. When the people who are supposed to love you the best are the ones who are sabotaging you and ripping your very sense of self to absolute shreds, it sets up your life to be an endless struggle. People who have had good supportive and loving parents have no idea and seem very glib about what we go through. Just do this, or just be that, they say. Sure, for you maybe. People brimming with solid self confidence who have known success and satisfaction their whole lives cannot relate to other realities so easily. Just know, you're not alone. There are a lot of us out here, and we see you, we get you, and we appreciate the struggle you so openly write about. Thank you for being honest. Mike."

Ed Hawco: "For what it’s worth, letting sh*t go is how The Buddha found enlightenment."

John Camp: "I don’t know why I’m writing this, since Kirk Tuck answered you well enough. Maybe because it’s snowing and I don’t want to take the dogs out.

"You (Mike) get up most days and write a column for this blog. That’s how a novel gets done. You have a time when you write, and that’s what you do. Doesn’t have to be too long. A couple of hours a day will do it. If you write 500–1,000 words a day, you’ll have a bestseller length novel (100,000–110,000 words) in half a year, more or less.

"If I sat in a chair and looked at the back of a Stephen King novel and thought 'My God, I have to write a *&#* brick like that,' I’d never get it done. So I don’t do that. Stephen King doesn’t either. So, I write 500–1,000 words a day, just like you do. And that’s what King does and Kirk does, too—and that’s why Kirk has a penthouse at the top of the Tuck Tower in Austin. You don’t have to be inspired, you don’t have to think deep thoughts, you don’t have to be overly bright, you don’t necessarily know what you’re going to write that day. You just have to work.

"Probably the best inspiration for me was negative: my folks were nice people, but didn’t have money, so if I needed some, as a teenager, I pretty much had to get myself. I started by doing fieldwork during the Iowa summers, detasseling corn and bailing hay, and the inspiration was simple: 'I don’t want to do this sh*t anymore.' I sold men’s clothes in a department store, and drilled holes in knobs in a radio factory, carried mail, and was an Army draftee, and it was all 'I don’t want to do this sh*t anymore.'

"I worked for newspapers, and it took a while—better than twenty years—and again, it was 'I don’t want to do this sh*t anymore.'

"Is it possible that you’re at that point? If not, then maybe you can continue to do the same ol’ sh*t.

"What kind of befuddles me is that I could take the columns you’ve written since you’ve run this blog, print them all out, get some scissors, cut and paste, and come up with the structure of a pretty good book on photography. The rest would be editing. Basically, carpentry.

"Couple hours a day."

Simon: "Like a significant number of commenters above, I cannot object to Thursday's post (a self-described 'complaint') but welcome it. Some (probably many) of your readers will take more from such a piece than you probably realise. Also, without it there would be no 'epiphany' post the following day. We are all shaped by our experiences, especially those in childhood, and many of us are unaware—at best only partially aware—of just how it has made us into the people we are today. Some things are good, some are not so good. But they are what they are and I think the value is in recognising or acknowledging them as much as we are able. As a parent I try not to make some of the mistakes my well-meaning parents made but I'm conscious that I will surely repeat some of them...and add some more of my own.

"I'm looking forward to seeing more photographs and your accompanying observations. My own ventures with my OM2n and 40mm ƒ/2 are frustratingly infrequent and irregular, but the process is still enjoyable. I am finding I now think more about the sense of place and composition as a result of viewing the recent images created with your Sigma fp."

Seven Reader Comments on 'Photographs Are Beautiful'

[UPDATE 2 pm Wednesday: All the comments are posted now. I have only one thing left to do, post the comments on the "Sunday Open Mike" post. But I have to go to the gym at 2:00, so I will do that when I get back. —Ed.]

I'm feeling great this morning. Very good day yesterday. And a big relief, frankly. My medical problems weren't severe, but they were, y'know, mine. And they turned out to be less threatening than they could have been. (I told more of the story in an email to my Patreon subscribers.)

But enough about that. The post "Photographs Are Beautiful Because They're True" (you might want to re-read the original post before proceeding), which probably should have been called photographs are beautiful IF they're true (or maybe photographs are beautiful if they're honest), elicted a lot of good comments, and I fell down posting the comments in a timely manner because of all my "lifey" distractions. (There is a saying in my 12-step program: "Sometimes life gets all lifey.") So here are seven selected ones to continue the discussion. If yours wasn't chosen, it doesn't mean it wasn't good. In choosing featured comments, I try to make the mix representative, rather than just a cherrypicking of "the best" ones, whatever that means. David Aiken's, for instance, was good, but at nearly 1,200 words it's longer than the original post, so I didn't post it here. But I might have. I read everyone's comment, and always have.

Be sure to check out Greg Boiarsky's link, and remember you're not looking at the real artworks, only small JPEGs of them. (Curious circularity: make an artwork of a photograph and then photograph it. Presumably it has a distinct numinous quality as a unique artwork that is then masked by the rephotographing, obliging us to imagine the artwork's true effect.)

Without further ado:

Tex Andrews: "Boy, I am so sorry to find myself vehemently disagreeing with you. As someone trained in painting/drawing/printmaking, I would argue that they are all more true—especially so-called 'abstraction' or non-representational art, but really all art in these media and sculpture as well—because all of them are what they are and it's quite obvious that they are. Even the examples of trompe l'oeil [French for "deceive the eye" —Ed.] works. Photography masks its un-truthfulness with a verisimilitude that we take for granted as true, and most don't question. Huge difference. Easy examples: what's outside of the frame, or, how is it processed? Is it a huge demonstration in the streets with combat between the police, or is it a few dozen angry people and several cops clashing with several of the protesters? Is it a gritty Bill Brandt shot of a grey and depressing outdoor scene, or was the day actually warm with the sun peeking through after a fresh rain?

"I only started becoming successful with my personal photography after I stopped beating my head against the wall trying to capture the truth of the scene and just started wielding my cameras like my other tools. Only in my work doing fine art repro do I try to capture 'the truth,' but I'm now a lot wiser in knowing that cameras/photography can never really do that."

Jeff Hohner: "Re 'Photographs are only beautiful insofar as they are true.' Hear, hear. I often struggle (in many more words) to explain this to photographers who started working after Photoshop became commonplace. 'You should clone out that branch to improve that shot's composition,' someone might say. 'This was the best position I found for the camera that balanced that damned branch with the other (glorious) elements in the photo. I love that tree though. I've photographed it many times over the years as it's grown. Would you like to see some of those photos to better understand this magical spot?'

"Thanks for the interesting link. Seems to me that in addition to AI and fraud, another part of this story is social media. The fraudster makes all kinds of excuses for his behaviour but it seems clear that he's primarily motivated by attention-seeking. Growing a following on Instagram can provide material gain as an influencer. His thorough thank you's may be polite but are also an engagement tactic. There are many people who work their social media accounts like a job and make some revenue from doing so. Looks to me like this guy was just working a new (dishonest) angle for traffic."

Jon Erickson: "Surely there is room for abstraction and impressionism in photography much as there is for realism in painting. The idea of accurately reporting what is in front of the camera still applies, with unwavering vigor I hope, to photojournalism, but did it ever apply to, say, commercial fashion? I think some of Sarah Moon's work is so beautiful it transcends that genre, and I would not wonder or care whether her images faithfully reproduce 'the sound of acoustic instruments playing in a real space,' so to speak, with a salute to the late great Harry Pearson [founding editor of The Absolute Sound magazine, whose signature thesis was that live music was the absolute standard against which reproduced music should be judged.  —Ed.].

"Accurate reporting does not apply to every artist or perhaps to even many artists. I recently met a portrait photographer who travels the southeast region of the US for sessions with children in the homes of well-to-do families. His professionally lighted and posed portraits are then rendered as oil-on-canvas paintings by someone else in the company he works for. There's no deception in this. The clients understand how the process works, and though I imagine the result is far from great art, it's at least more carefully and classically realized than applying a digital filter to a photo and outputting the file as a 'painting' through an inkjet printer on fine-art paper. The person executing the painting, however, is handed an image not of her own conception or composition. Who is the artist here? Would the Instagram fraud guy be a thing if he had avoided contriving back stories for some of his subjects and worked the AI photo-like 'original' as a painting instead of finishing it out as a photograph? Would he still be lying if he took credit for the images as digital paintings?"

Mike replies: I think you have just coined the perfect term for these AI contrivances: digital paintings. It's a dignified term, not pejorative, but it distinguishes it from photography.

Also, I saw a show recently of large paintings of portrait photographs. The paintings were made by an oil painting service in China. I couldn't get the question answered as to whether the named artist actually took the original photographs or simply found them.

Cliff: "I happen to agree Mike. I love photography, and admittedly my definition is narrow, and definitely unfair. To my mind it is a human being seeing through a camera (I’m enough of a snob that I prefer the camera to be mechanical.) I do believe this gentleman is creating 'Art' since the intention is to create an emotional object. His marketing approach (i.e., lying about his process) could be his performance approach. I have no hard feelings towards him. Looking at every one of his images it’s obviously heavily processed, and not the look I love, but honestly no different to me than the majority of what we see everywhere now.

"I’m resigned to being a fan of a niche art style now. My love of traditional B&W prints is really no different than some one who appreciates hand-cut stained glass or furniture produced with hand tools. The human, mechanical process and effort matter to me. I’m older and excited to live long enough to see the next generation of artists revive what I love. It’s happening now, as young people rediscover the beauty of a chemical darkroom. Creating new fine prints in silver. Vive l'art!"

Greg Boiarsky: "As someone who obsesses over every detail in their images (to the dismay of my family), I'm conflicted about this pseudo-photographer. He's so vague about the process he uses to create his images that they could be anything from true art to a sort of photographic paint-by-numbers. To be sure, the images look pretty good. But, it appears that he just generates hundreds of images using AI and then picks the best one and massages it in Photoshop. Whatever it is, it is not photography. The closest thing it comes to is hyper-realistic art, and I honestly find that kind of thing to be amazing but boring. It doesn't tell me anything beyond that the artist can depict something that could be mistaken for a photo of a real object. So, for me it also isn't art."

Kenneth Tanaka: "Re 'Photography is moving farther and farther away from the era in which the aim was to accurately report what was in front of the camera...', not really, Mike. It’s true that the goals of photography’s technology and basic craft skills have always been oriented toward greater fidelity—truth, if you will. But photography’s practice and applications have incorporated deception virtually from the first hour. Throughout the summer of 2019 I worked on inspecting and cataloging a large collection of wonderful daguerreotypes for a museum. I was shocked, shocked, at how many had been manipulated pre- or post-capture in some way. The most common post-mod I saw was hand-painting of details, such as gold buttons or flowers. Hand-tinting came next, especially in post-mortem portraits, to make the subjects appear to be sleeping.

"Moving forward, so much of the most admired imagery of the 20th century was heavily manipulated. Skilled darkroom techs could multi-print almost anything into images.

"And, excuse me, but you call black-and-white photography 'truth'? Certainly that not truth in any real terms of healthy human vision.

"Photography as a medium at its best moments has always been a means of expression rather than documentation. Dodging, burning, color-grading, cloning, etc., all devoted to present thoughts and ideas rather than facts.

"Still, I do share your future shock at the apparent widening intrusion of artificially-generated images. It seems like such a brazen lie. But, again, I must point out that this is also not new. A great deal of the product 'photography' that appears to be from a camera is, in fact, from 3D modeling and compositing systems. That includes furniture, clothing, household products, cars, architecture, and even food!

"Re 'Photographs are only beautiful insofar as they are true,' you quoted a terrific line by Peter O’Toole from My Favorite Year, above: 'I’m not an actor, I’m a movie star!' I will similarly offer a movie quote to suggest guidance toward future harmony with photography. In the 1957 film The Bachelor Party, Don Murray’s character picks up Carolyn Jone’s character at a party. When he tries to make a pass at her she stops him and demands, 'Tell me you love me. You don’t have to mean it but I have to hear it.'"

Darlene: "Beauty is always in the eye of the beholder. What is in front of the camera is not always beautiful or 'true' regarding what the photographer decides to frame in or keep out.

"AI will find its place alongside the technology of its day. Some of what we may call 'fake' or created out of thin air and technology will come and go just as innovations do and eventually become normal or expected by the majority.

"One benefit of changing technologies is the admiration for lost crafts. So let's keep the craft of photography alive and become part-time photography Luddites. Today I will run some 4x5 through my pinhole camera, which some photographers may scratch their heads over because the images will be soft due to the pinhole lens (or lack of, however one may look at it). I like soft sometimes. I like sharp sometimes. And I still enjoy shooting film and hand processing.

"I could never be a total photographer Luddite, as commercial photography paved my path to a successful career. I started with Photoshop when it first appeared. The funny thing is, a lot of non-Photoshop users would refer to Photoshop like it was AI, and some still do.

"They say people become old when they start complaining about the changing times in a cynical way. I choose not to be like that. Instead, I reach into my freezer for some film and feel grateful there is always a small stash waiting for me.

"Maybe positive therapy for photographers who may experience depression or anxiety over AI could be to have their favorite 35mm film camera in hand and keep a small stash of B&W film in their freezer, and some Rodinal, or whatever long-lasting developer they choose, in the cupboard. Then, when they feel their inners getting all twisted up, they can open the freezer for some cooling down and rummage into the cupboard to smell the developer while fondling a real camera in their hands.

"Does it matter how an image was created? If a photographer were paid to do a shoot but did not do as the contract specified, that would matter. If a photographer publicly lies about how they created an image, that should matter. But in the practice of creativity, the sky is the limit. How you get where you seek to go is your business."

Thanks to all, whether featured here or not.

[posted by] Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

MIKE EATS CROW (Several Off-Topic Updates and Commentaries)

An undated picture of Katharine White. Photographer unknown.

Mess and sludge: It's fantastic to be back to normal. After a couple of weeks of sleeping well again, I'm feeling hugely better. My heart issues, which I guess were pretty serious, or potentially so, have all but gone away. I'm sleeping through the night most nights, and I've bounced back amazingly: normal energy is something you don't know you've lost until you get it back. Over the months (years?) that I was being affected by these issues, I was chronically sleep- and oxygen-deprived, which made me run-down and lethargic, and it was affecting everything in my life. I not only feel much better suddenly, I even look healthier in the mirror. Day by day, I'm back to chipping away at the mess and sludge created by neglect when I was "down." It's going to take me a while to get everything set right again, but I'm on the way and making progress.

Dropping in on a whim: The great open secret of all spiritual programs and systems that is that trying to help someone other than ourselves is actually a sure path to our own happiness. It's always been right there out in the open, but it always has also been, and  still is, widely ignored—so strenously ignored it seems like the advice itself must be invisible. As a friend put it once, "I'm really not all that important, but I think about myself all day long." In this time when we're seeing untreated narcissism all around us, when bad actors of every sort are elbowing themselves forward through the crowd to claim undeserved attention and unearned reward, the more moral path is simply to turn our focus away from ourselves and offer it gently to others. Anyway I've been looking for a way to contribute to my local community; and yesterday I signed up to be a literacy volunteer. I don't know what I'm getting myself into. I guess we'll see.

It all happened sidewise: I got an email outlining the stern penalties that would result if I didn't get my car inspected; so I took the car to get inspected; and the inspection station told me my tires would not pass; so I took the car in to have the snow tires put on, because they're newer. Not that we're getting any snow. Anyway, I had an hour and a half to kill, and Literacy Volunteers of Ontario and Yates (local county names) was four or five doors down from the tire shop. I dropped in on a whim, and talked away the whole hour and a half with a guy my age named Phil, who lost three fingers in a lawnmower accident when he was three. He lives in this area with his wife because they find that "people take care of each other here." Before I knew it I had volunteered. By such small sideways steps do our lives follow their winding paths.

Serendipity: I meant to go to a local restaurant alone the other day and found I had left my phone at home, which meant I would have nothing to read as I ate. There is a rather mysterious organization across the street that gives away bread, and I think clothes too, and I had a vague idea that they sometimes put used books out on the sidewalk that you can take for free. So I went in, and they indeed had two bookshelves full of books to give away. One was Onward and Upward in the Garden by Katharine S. White. It collects twenty articles Katharine wrote about gardening for The New Yorker. Gardening as a topic is foreign to me—I can't keep a plant alive when I try—but, as I well knew, Katharine Sergeant Angell White was the legendary Fiction Editor of The New Yorker from 1925 to 1960, about whom William Shawn said, "More than any other editor except [founding Editor-in-Chief] Harold Ross himself, Katharine White gave The New Yorker its shape, and set it on its course." She was married to E.B. ("Andy") White, the author of Stuart Little and Charlotte's Web, who is one of my writer-heroes. I figured the book would have an introduction by Andy White. And sure enough.

I can't resist sharing a sample:

Writing, for her, was an agonizing ordeal. Writing is hard work for almost everyone: for Katharine it was particularly hard, because she was by temperament and profession an editor, not a writer. (The exception was when she wrote letters. Her letters—to friends, relatives, contributors—flowed naturally from her in a clear and steady stream, a warm current of affection, concern, and eagerness to get through to the mind of the recipient. Letters were easy. How I envied her!) But when she sat down to compose a magazine piece on gardening, faced with all the strictures and disciplines of formal composition and suffering the uneasiness that goes with critical expression in the public print—this was something else again. Gone was the clear and steady stream. Katharine's act of composition often achieved the turbulence of a shoot-out. The editor in her fought the writer every inch of the way; the struggle was felt all through the house. She would write eight or ten words, then draw her gun and shoot them down. This made for slow and torturous going. It was simple warfare—the editor ready to nip the writer before she committed all the sins and errors the editor clearly foresaw. Occasionally, I ribbed her about the pain she inflicted on herself. "Just go ahead and write," I said. "Edit it afterwards—there's plenty of time." My advice never had an effect on her; she fought herself with vigor and conviction from the first sentence to the last, drawing blood the whole way.

A tiny nugget of gold, of the sort which often pass by when reading E.B. White. The woman in the storefront said of the book, "that one has been here quite a long time." The book was free, so I donated five dollars to their cause.

Readings: As long as we are so far off topic, here are a few more essays I've come across recently. If you like movies, Molly Ringwald wrote a personal history called "Shooting Shakespeare with Jean-Luc Godard" that is vivid and charming. And if you've ever had an intimate but non-romantic relationship with someone of the sex you're attracted to at your workplace, you'll enjoy "The Bizarre Relationship of a 'Work-Wife' and a 'Work-Husband'" by Stephanie H. Murray. The former from The New Yorker, the latter from The Atlantic.

Eating crow: According to Wikipedia, "eating crow" means being humiliated by being proven wrong after having taken a strong position. Evidently crows don't make good eating, something rural Americans of a century and a half ago might have known firsthand but that we don't know any more, in the same way most of us don't know which plants in the local forest are edible. Supposedly the idiom "eating crow" comes from an 1850 short story, but I haven't been able to find the story. On the matter of compression socks—there's the alternative term I didn't know—I could not have been more wrong. I bought some Wellow socks at the suggestion of James Weekes. And they're great. They've already solved or helped with several long-term problems. Swelling, varicose veins, and my persistent problem with cold feet have all gotten markedly better in just this short amount of time. Plus, they're very comfortable. My only problem with compression socks now is that I didn't try them years ago.

Very little could be further from the topic of photography than this, but, still, I'm glad when I bring these subjects up: I always learn things I profit from. I hope you do, too.

Cheers,

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Terry Letton: "The story about Katherine’s writing reminded me of my own struggles with writing. In my day it seems like English teachers were not interested in teaching us a useful skill like writing but imparting some supposedly god-given rules about alphabet manipulation. Of course thes 'rules' are nothing but social conventions subject to arbitrary change as society changes. I finally learned to write when I realized that writing is simply talking with a pencil. Clarity of thought is what’s important, not obscure parts of speech."

Surprise

Well, my "Bar of Soap" picture is actually getting a lot of attention, which surprises me. It made Flickr's Explore feature, and has gotten 4,564 views, 80 faves, and 12 comments so far.

You can't really be too modest about your own work when it gets attention, because it either comes across as humble bragging or as a backhand insult to the people who are complimenting you. So, I guess I'm great and my work is brilliant. (Turns red in face, tugs on collar.)

Way back in the aughts, I was up very early one morning and was writing a brief post about the weather—there had been an overnight snowstorm. To illustrate the post, I took a picture across the street, while standing at the front door in my bathrobe and slippers. I didn't think a thing of it, but I don't think I've ever earned more money from one photograph, ever. "Bar of Soap" is...well, just a bar of soap. But I guess people like it. I'm happy about that.

Another point about that post: several people commented that they wouldn't want to take on an OC/OL/OY as their New Years resolution. That surprised me too. I wasn't suggesting anyone should. You should come up with your own thing. Isn't that...obvious? See, there I go again, insulting people. Sorry. But...yeah, you do you. If your resolution is to use as many different cameras as possible in 2023, I'm good with that. I'm not suggesting that everyone should do what I want to do. Unless it's what they want to do too.

"Bar of Soap" does illustrate one very important photographic principle. Get out and work, and occasionally the magic will happen. It's really not a bad idea to get the camera out every day and do something with it. Photography is funny that way. Sometimes when you're minding the door the good ones sneak in through the window.

I'll finish up comments soon. It's 11:38 as I write this and I haven't had breakfast yet. I got a little carried away on that car thing. Which happens. And then Butters needed to go out. Never enough time, never enough time.

Mike
Flickr page / New Yorker author page

Original contents copyright 2022 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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Mike Lougee: "Mike, readers may enjoy seeing your '06 photo, 'Wisconsin No. 7' (both because you mentioned it here and because it's now Winter in the Northern Hemisphere)."

Mike replies: Here 'tis:

The print looked much better than the JPEG.

Dan Khong: "Are you putting that bar of soap on eBay? You can never tell how much people will bid for it."

Mike replies: Funny!

Update

Norton has informed me that it will "whitelist" my site within 48 hours and that I will receive confirmation via phone...and those of you who have gotten warnings will stop getting them. I'll let you know. Sorry again for any inconvenience.

—Mike with IT hat on. I still don't know anything, I just have the hat.

Mono(chrome) Mania Update

 

Corn at the harvest (large)

GMS (Great Monochrome Safari) Update: I took the plunge! Delayed by COVID.

After several weeks of paralysis by analysis, I decided to convert the Sigma fp rather than the A6600. And off it went, yesterday morning. 

 

Wet asphalt (large)

I photographed both days this weekend. Got some okay things. Whatever the result is, I really like being out and looking around, and I'm very gratified when I'm able to enjoy good light. Taking B&W pictures again is very satisfying. I'm aware, in a lot of situations, that I haven't quite found the picture; but that's okay. The important thing is being out looking for it. I like the process for its own sake.

Rain across the valley (large)

In some essential way, I really do trust the process of working away at something. I can already feel my processing decisions getting not only incrementally better, but also incrementally easier. Gradually, I'll get better at working with this equipment as I do more of it.

Barn roof (large)

I'll keep you posted! I'm excited to get the fp back.

Mike

Book o' the Week

Annie Leibovitz. At long last, the unlimited trade edition of the humongous, limited Sumo edition by Taschen. Mind you, this is still a huge book—15.4 inches high, 556 pages, and almost 13 pounds. And the price! (But that's nothing—the Sumo weighed 57 pounds and cost $7,500.) This is the closest ordinary folks (with ordinary shelves) will get to the ultimate Annie.

The book link above is a portal to any purchase at Amazon. You're very kind use our links, as they help support the site.

B&H Photo

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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

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

Daniel: "I believe Fuji should make an X-ProM. A Monochrome camera using the X-Pro body. Leica is doing well with Monochrome and Fuji is 'the poor man's Leica,' even to the nice set of 'Fujichron' lenses."

Mike replies: Well, I had been waiting for something like that for many years by the time the Leica Monochrom came out, and that was more than a decade ago now. Photographers have been extremely ill-served by digital when it comes to B&W. I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied by the crude solution of stripped sensors, but I want to get back to work; it's been too long.

It wouldn't require genius-level engineering for one of the cameramakers to design and make a sensor specifically designed for B&W, which at this point could certainly include tweaking the spectral response. I imagine they could solve the digital highlight problem by making it so that different photosites had different sensitivities. Fuji did do that many years ago—as Thom Hogan writes, "Back in their DSLR days (and a few compacts, as well), Fujifilm made sensors that had dual photosites per pixel position: one gathered highlight info, one gathered shadow info." With today's ultra-high resolution sensors, it seems possible that they could do the same thing better by just applying ND filtering on every other pixel. I don't know the science. But it's probably true that a sensor deliberately designed for B&W could run rings around all the solutions we have available to us now. It's a shame we've been without that for so long.

Kenneth Tanaka: "Re 'The important thing is being out looking for it. I like the process for its own sake.' Bullseye 🎯 ! I’ve not found any activity that gives me more visual and creative enjoyment than simply walking around with a camera. I 'shoot' nothing but pictures. I 'take' nothing but images. Glad to see you’re healthy again and out with a camera, Mike. Nothing better for the mind and body!"

Jeff Hohner: "Hot damn. What is it that thrills me so about B&W? It's not just nostalgia. It must be my photographer's eye which was calibrated by B&W and still is. Thanks for sharing your work. I'm following your B&W adventures with much envy and vicarious pleasure."

Good Sleep (COVID Update)

Not everything has a silver lining, but, for me, COVID has had one. I was discouraged that I was still testing positive at Day 16, but I slept around the clock again on Wednesday night...11:00 p.m. to 11:00 a.m.

It's been nostalgic to revisit, in very early old age, the way I used to be able to sleep when I was younger. I'm not into having COVID, but I've enjoyed being able to sleep. I suffer from a form of insomnia called EMA—early morning awakening. I often pop awake at 4:15 or 5:30 or some ungodly early morning hour and, more than half the time, can't get back to sleep. Well, on Thursday morning I got dragged out of sleep at 5:45, looked at the internet for a while on my tablet, conked out again, and enjoyed basically a whole second night's sleep. I haven't slept that late in years.

The oximeter
If you get COVID, a handy device to have around is something called a "fingertip pulse oximeter," or just "oximeter" for short. It's that little clip that goes on your fingertip that measures your pulse and the oxygen saturation, or the percentage of oxygen, in your blood. A normal, healthy adult or child with functioning lungs has a blood oxygen level of between 95 and 100%. My impression from various things I read about COVID early on was that people who are otherwise asymptomatic can have a condition called "happy" (also called "silent") hypoxia, which means you have low blood oxygen levels but you're not aware of it. Fingertip pulse oximeters were widely recommended during the early days of COVID as a way to detect happy hypoxia. However, in poking around on the web, I came across a study at Penn Medicine that indicated that automated text messaging—regularly asking people with COVID whether they felt short of breath—was just as effective in terms of outcomes as patient self-measuring with an oximeter.

However, I don't get automated text messages from my doctor's office asking me about shortness of breath. In fact I've yet to see a sign from them that they're interested in how I'm doing. So I've been using the oximeter. There are a zillion pulse oximeters on Amazon; this is the one I happen to have, not that that matters. I just slip it on my finger a few times a day to check. Mainly reassurance, I guess.

After I encountered that Penn Medicine study, though, I figured I might need to know a little more, from an expert. So I reached out to John Hansen-Flaschen MD, a TOP reader who is also a highly distinguished pulmonologist (as well as, of course, a photographer). Here's what John told me:

Early on, when COVID infection was frequently life threatening, some people were found to have a low blood oxygen level before they developed severe shortness of breath. Other chest infections did not typically do this. Also, there was no quick COVID testing then. So, at that time, we encouraged people to buy a finger pulse oximeter and to test themselves at the first hint of any new respiratory symptoms.

Current omicron strains do not behave this way, so we no longer recommend pulse oximetry for early detection. Instead, when someone is known to have acute symptomatic COVID, a pulse oximeter can be useful in deciding when to go to an emergency room and when to be admitted to a hospital. A drop in oxygen % saturation of greater than 4 mmHg to below 92% is a reason to go to an ED for further evaluation. Below 85–88% may be a reason to admit someone.

So I guess I'm doing the right thing keeping an eye on it. John also told me that I'm at risk for long COVID, mentioning that "our clinic is overrun with people who have this distressing condition." Yikes. But then, I guess we've all known all along that COVID is inherently a "yikes" kind of thing to start with. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I won't have that.

Finally, I called my doctor's office, and was told by a nurse that people who've had COVID can continue testing positive for up to 30 days even if they've recovered. She told me to stop testing myself, sort of implying that all I'm doing is driving myself crazy. So, okay.

Anyway, I am feeling a lot better—the penultimate remaining symptom, a cough, seems to be almost gone. The ultimate remaining symptom seems to be...good sleep. Not sure if I want that to go away. But I guess I'll know I'm really better when it does.

Good health to you and your family! In all ways, and always.

Mike

Book o' the Week

Migrant Mother, by Sarah Meister. "Each volume in the One on One series is a sustained meditation on a single work from the collection of MoMA." Forty-two pages with many illustrations. An engaging guided tour of the history and lore of "American photography's Mona Lisa."

This book link is a portal to Amazon. You're very kind use our links, as they help support the site.

B&H Photo

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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

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

Tom Burke: "Very glad to hear you're getting better, Mike. Like you, the cough has been the last thing to disappear for me.

"You mentioned above that you're still testing positive. Is that PCR tests, or lateral flow test? It's well known that PCR tests can continue to pick up non-infectious viral proteins anything u to 90 days after infection.

"I think I mentioned in an earlier comment that I had found a reference to a study that looked at when people stopped being infectious. I've dug out the references. First, the summary from the Imperial College site; and this is the link to the study report in the Lancet Respiratory Medicine journal.

"The message seems to be that the study found that less than a quarter of cases were shedding virus before the onset of symptoms; and that lateral flow testing was a poor indicator of the onset of infectiousness, but was very good at spotting the moment when you cease to be infectious. In my case I tested negative on two days in succession at the end of my illness (10 days after symptom onset) so I was OK to go out. Four days after that, however, a PCR test (in connection with a survey I'm enrolled in) came back with a positive result. I decided that the latter result was an example of the problem with PCR test results after you've been ill."

The Progress of the Great fp Monochrome Safari

Note that I'm not reviewing the Sigma fp. I'm interviewing it. That is, checking out whether it's suitable for my own personal use.

I'm also not recommending it, as I stated once before. My personal needs and interests here are not typical. As a reviewer, I often recommend things for others, but that's when I'm putting other people first, taking their part and considering their needs and interests first and foremost. It's a different mindset. I am quite capable of doing that, but I am not doing it now. Now I'm thinking of myself.

I admit I got derailed there for a few days—I got COVID. I seem to be over it now, knock on wood, although I'm still fatigued and a bit weak and low on energy. (And sleeping like I did twenty years ago, which is delicious.) But I've continued to make some modest progress anyway.

Background
Jason M. loaned me a Sigma fp that he'd had converted to monochrome (i.e., black-and-white only) by Monochrome Imaging Services (MIS), one of several small businesses that strip the color filters off color sensors to render the cameras monochrome-only. Which made it into an "fp-M," a non-Sigma appellation meaning fp Mono. I used it for a few weeks and decided to buy my own.

After some delays (one part was backordered), my camera is here. It is currently unconverted, and I've tried a few alternatives with it—namely, shooting with its own internal Monochrome profile, and shooting in color and converting the to B&W in software. These experiments have made me unhappy, largely because I've done all this before with other cameras. Briefly: the Sigma DNG Monochrome profile is useless to me, because you need to use Sigma Photo Pro as a raw converter to process the files as B&W. In Adobe Camera Raw (ACR) they open as color files. With capture set for JPEG, they do open as black-and-white, but the JPEGs preserve even less highlight detail than Jason's converted camera does. Finally, I can of course open color raw files and set the profile to Monochrome in ACR, and then edit the B&W file to optimize it.

Before I get any farther, the results of doing that look very good. You don't lose a lot of sharpness, and the conversions offer more control than shooting with the fp-M...

...Which is what I don't want. Before you know it I'm dealing with two complications I don't want, namely 1.) would this image look better as a color image? and 2.) the B&W Mixer. When you change from "Color" profile to "Monochrome" profile in ACR, the "Color Mixer" changes to "B&W Mixer." It looks like this:

And the sliders change the value of each of those colors in the file conversion.

This is exactly what I don't want—a palette of endless possibilities for spectral ranges tailored to each individual image. The bottom line is, I don't want to deal with color when I'm shooting or post-processing. This isn't an accommodation to lack of competence; I'm perfectly competent to do that and I don't mind doing it. What it is is a preference: I don't want to do it.

I want to work in black-and-white. Currently, Leica is the only manufacturer that understands this from an artistic, aesthetic, creative perspective. All the rest of them DON'T GET IT. Say what you will. They do not understand.

Punk rock commitment
So that's why checking out the B&W options for the color fp are making me unhappy—I've been there, done that, and that's not what I want. What's been resonating in my head is Andrew Chalsma's comment: "I think sending it out for conversion before taking a color image is the only way to go. Punk rock commitment."

I did use the new camera just enough to check out whether it has any problems. The next step is that it goes off to MIS for conversion.

If you feel I've shortchanged the parts of this process you might have been interested in, I apologize, but I'm on the trail of something I've long wanted and I have to keep pressing. May I please use COVID as an excuse?

Meanwhile, my friend at B&H Photo sent me all four of the fp hand grips they sell, and it took me all of an hour to choose which one I like best. But that's a separate post.

Mike

Book o' the Week

Migrant Mother, by Sarah Meister. "Each volume in the One on One series is a sustained meditation on a single work from the collection of MoMA." Forty-two pages with many illustrations. An engaging guided tour of the history and lore of "American photography's Mona Lisa."

This book link is a portal to Amazon. You're very kind use our links as they help support the site.

B&H Photo

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. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

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

Rob de Loe: "I gained another, but different, window into your thinking recently. I'm not a potential Hasselblad X2D customer, but I was curious about Hasselblad's Natural Color Solution. Long story short, Hasselblad has built a nice route through the complexity of colour that starts with finely tuned cameras, and passes through their Phocus software to give you what amounts to one choice out of the box for colour. As a Fujifilm person, it was striking to open a Hasselblad X2D file in Lightroom and realize, there is only one camera profile. In comparison, with Fuji, there's a boatload of film simulations from which to choose. I'm not sure what I think about the Hasselblad approach, but I get the concept of keeping it simple for people who like things simple."

Herman Krieger: "Black-and-white is beautiful."

JOHN B GILLOOLY: "I think this all makes perfect sense. And it immediately makes me thing of two analogies. First, the decades-old MAC/PC debate. I remember the PC people always talking about the endless configurations and option of the PC platform. But I was never looking for an endlessly configurable computer—I just wanted a machine built for what I needed. Turnkey, very few choices, very few options. Apple provided that. And recently when re-engaging with film, all of the mentions of varying options of processing B&W film was also a turn-off. When shooting film I really don't want options. Part of the reason I'm shooting it is to limit options. Limit the available choices. An attempt to simplify the process of photographing down to the parts I love and value most—the capturing and sharing."

One of Us in One Way!

Christopher May: "Let's not forget fact that the Queen was an avid photographer, too. Several photos exist of her with Rollei 35s and Leicas. One photo with the latter was even used to commemorate her sixtieth birthday on a stamp: 

"As an American not terribly invested in the every move of the royal family, her passing doesn't affect me directly like it does much of the world. I'm always saddened by the departure of a fellow photo-dawg, though. May she rest in peace."

Christopher

Mike comments: Hear, hear. Although I imagine the Queen might have felt that being referred to as a "dawg" would be beneath her dignity. So perhaps "photo-corgi" would be more appropriate in her case. And right, how can you not like someone who was into dogs, horses, and cameras all her life?