The Online Photographer

A Thought on Good Technique

[Comments have been added.]

What part of your own practice of photography does technique play? I took this a couple of nights ago—saw it from the car, and though, hmm, maybe someday under the same conditions I could take a picture of that. Which then struck me as being a crazy thought—Jay Maisel's admonition to "always shoot it now; it won't be the same when you go back" came to mind. So I turned around, went back, heaved my lazy butt out of the heated driver's seat, and shot it. I dealt with the low light by taking five or six series of brackets and then just looked for the best one. But of course it could have been better technically if I'd had a tripod. I have a great tripod—an ideal one, really—but I keep it in the back room behind the bookcase. It wasn't doing me a lot of good there. What would be wrong with storing it in the trunk?

I'm not sure my indifferent technique here hurts this—it's properly exposed (I can't look at the sky without thinking about how to properly expose a picture of it). But better technique in steadying the camera might have helped. I'll never know, will I?

Anyway the idea came to mind that I'm not taking much if any joy in good technique—good craftsmanship—these days. There's no moral imperative to use good technique. Part of ignoring it is a protest against the tunnel-vision attitude of technique-above-everything that pervades the internet these days. (And possibly also a protest against 750-page manuals.) But being a good photographic craftsperson can be part of the fun, no?

Mike

Book o' the Week
Eye and Brain by Richard Gregory, Fifth Edition. "As far as I know nothing in the past 50 years is a better explanation of how humans see." —Hugh Crawford

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Featured Comments from:

Ken Bennett: "I think good technique is necessary but not sufficient for good photos. That is, using proper technique is important all the time, but good technique by itself is not enough. The reason that the technical part of photography gets so much attention online is that it's measurable, while the aesthetic parts are not; but the combination is what makes a good photo. Light, composition, and the moment are crucial, but without solid technical skills it's hard to make the photo that you see.

"You should carry the tripod in your car. I have one in the back of my truck and often find use for it."

Harry B Houchins: "I carry a small pillow-size beanbag in the car. When I see something as you did. I stop and use the beanbag on the roof of my car. Doesn't take nearly as long to set up as my tripod. Which, true be told, I hate to carry around with me even in the woods."

John Krumm: "Maybe there's a lazy way to do this one. Put your camera in continuous mode (not bracket). Use a high enough ISO to get a good enough shutter speed for a sharp shot. Shoot 12 or more images. Up to 36 images. Then do a 'means stack' in Photoshop, and watch your noise go way down while detail remains good. Adjust photo as needed. This is what Brooks Jensen does all the time with his G9."

Robert Roaldi: "There's no need for self-flagellation. No one is judging your photos, and if they are, screw 'em. Lots of photos have noise/grain in them, some have some motion blur, sometimes the exposure is off. Sometimes these things matter, oftentimes they don't matter at all. Do you enjoy looking at the scene? Unless someone is paying you, that's the only criteria that matters. People worry way too much."

MikeR: "More winter pictures of Keuka, please! I've only stayed at Keuka Lake in mid-summer, usually July or August. This year it will be late August. We'll rent a couple of big houses, so that the family, comprising about six to nine sub-families, can get together for the first time since 2019. When there, I've always wondered what it would be like to live in one of those houses in mid-Winter. Much fewer people, quiet, solitude. Neat photo opportunities! I even investigated once, and found that winter rentals are almost non-existent. Either the houses are closed up, or their owners have returned from wherever they go in the summertime. So, please more Winter Keuka pictures!"

William Shannon: "I think that this image was well worth going back for. The palette of blues defined by the geography, the sky and the time of day and the warm window lights reflecting off the water offer a feeling of warmth piercing the cold. I like the exposure and in this case I think that tripod sharpness might cut into the feeling offered by the photograph."

Darlene: "What part of your own practice of photography does technique play? Having good technique is a fundamental part of the craft. Being able to predict the technical results is having an understanding of the craft. I practice good technique and always have a tripod stowed in my vehicle. A shutter release cable is stashed in there too because I never know if I will be toting around film or digital.

"I also have an excellent pair of sunglasses to protect my eyes from the sun. Without my vision, I would find photography very frustrating to practice."

Kirk Decker: "I'd suggest that good technique isn't found in the use of a tripod. Good technique is that you knew how to take an acceptable image without a tripod. Had you been super captivated by the scene you would have, no doubt, started to dive into the bag of camera steadying tricks that a person with good technique, such as yourself, knows. It is a very nice photo by the way. I think actually listening to that little voice that tells you to stop and take the photo is 90% of the struggle.

"I should add that I am a huge fan of tripods and if one is available, you should use it. But, to paraphrase a '70s saying, 'technique will get you through times of no tripods better than tripods will get you times of no technique.'"

Dave (partial comment): "Mike, The photo looks fine. The thin branches in the foreground are sharp enough on the screen in front of me. (17 x 10", 2–3 feet viewing distance.) The thing that grabs me is the mood of the photo, rather than whether it's as technically as good as possible. A good, rich darker blue without magenta creeping in. Dark, but easy to see the distant 'layers.' I'm glad you turned around to take that photo!"

The Difference Between Youth and Age

A spread from Bystander, the
bible of street photography

I mentioned I didn't take any street photographs on Street Photography Day last Sunday. I'd like to expand a little on that.

The difference between youth and age is that when you're older, you've learned what you're not. Those rose-tinted contact lenses fall away from our eyes as the years wear on. When you're young, life is a sort of vague infinitude of casual impulsive ambitions that are going to be fulfilled magically one day. But with every additional year you get under your belt, well, there goes another one.

This is why young boys argue about which supercar is best. Rob's going to have a Ferrari; Joe's going to have a Lamborghini. It's serious enough that they've had to learn how to keep the argument from getting too passionate because it could cause a rift in the friendship, and they both know that. What's never questioned is the assumption that they're going to have cars like that when they grow up. Because of course they are. The future is vast—and in it all things are possible.

I might be getting that example wrong. Maybe 12-year-olds today don't care about cars. I've heard that older teenagers don't. If they do care about vehicles of some sort, maybe Ferraris and Lamborghinis don't enter in. Even my plucked-from-the-air boy names are probably wrong: those are 12-year-old boy names of my era. Today's 12-year-olds would be named Ethan, Noah, Jacob, Aiden or Jayden. Joseph was only the 20th-most popular boy name in 2010 and Robert didn't make the top 50. In fact, I have no idea what boys of today aspire to. I don't know any 12-year-olds. But you get the point.

Jimmy
For males, of which I am one, the most reliable reality test when it comes to vague aspirations being shut down by the passing of the years is no doubt sports. I played tennis when I was a kid (it exploded in popularity as I passed through youth*) and while I never exactly thought I was ever going to be "all that" as a tennis player, still, age first impinged for me when players younger than myself were, first, playing in the big tournaments, and then winning them. Jimmy Connors was five years older than me (rank of the name James in popularity the year Connors was born: 1). That was the way the world was when it was the way it was supposed to be. Today the Big Three—the astonishing triumvirate of Federer, Nadal and Djokovic—are 24, 29, and 30 years younger than me, and they're all old. And I haven't hit a tennis ball since before any of them were born, except—and this is true—in my dreams.

So anyway: who am I kidding? I'm never going to be a street photographer. I don't have the personality for it. I would almost wager that if I went through my entire archive looking for one great street photograph—just one—which no one would disagree fit the category and the quality of which no one would dispute either—I wouldn't find that unicorn!

The difference is that when I enrolled in photography school in 1982 and honestly thought I was just about the luckiest guy in the world because I got to do photography all day every day, well, of course I was going to make great street photographs. If not immediately, someday.

At my age now, it doesn't take a genius to know that that "someday" is never going to come.

And that's all right. The real key to success is to figure out what you're actually good at. Without illusions. Doing so involves an honest and objective appraisal of who and what you are—but it also involves a clear-eyed view of what you're not.

Mike

*It's done very well during the pandemic, too, being a naturally socially-distanced activity.

Book o' the Week

Bystander: A History of Street Photography by Colin Westerbeck and Joel Meyerowitz (Laurence King Publishing, 2017). First published in 1994. In this revised edition, the story of street photography is brought up to date with a re-evaluation of some historical material, the inclusion of more contemporary photographers, and a discussion of the ongoing rise of digital photography.

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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:

Knack Mac: "Figuring out what you aren’t going to be good at is so important at any age. When very young, I wanted to be an architect. When I went to college, I was in engineering rather than architecture, but I was given a photo assignment by the yearbook to capture first-year architecture students working late Friday on their assigned big project. They worked into the night, and I noticed a friend who was an architecture student wasn’t there. Later I asked him where he had been. He said he had finished the assignment Wednesday. He admitted he had talent for architecture those other students didn’t. They would be doomed to designing bathrooms when he was doing skyscrapers.

"I realized then it is unwise to compete against people with more talent. Better to find something that you either do have a talent for, or in which there just isn’t a requirement for much talent. I took that to heart and realized I was going to be competing against engineers who had more talent than I did, so I left engineering. I went into something that required less talent: marketing."

["Knack Mac" ended up as CEO of Miller Brewing—so maybe his talent for knowing what he didn't have a talent for is something talented young people would do well to listen to and learn from.... —Mike]

Phil S.: "On sports being the locale where many young men first give up a dream, there's an achingly beautiful song called 'Speedtrap Town' by American singer-songwriter Jason Isbell that features these lines:

Well it's a Thursday night but there's a high school game
Sneak a bottle up the bleachers and forget my name
These 5A bastards run a shallow cross
It's a boy's last dream and a man's first loss.

"I always thought that pretty well summed it up."

Sroyon: "Hmm, you (claim that you) are not good at street photography...but do you enjoy it? If yes, then why not do it anyway?  :-) 

"I get what you're saying, but I also think there's something to be said for pursuing something one is not good at, purely out of love. Maybe not as a profession, because most professions require some level of proficiency. But why not as an amateur (Latin: amare, to love)."

Mike replies: Oh, I do not enjoy it at all. It's torture. As I said, I don't have the personality for it; it's awkward and agonizing for me. I much prefer making pictures in situations where I have permission to do so, or at least where I feel like I'm not bothering anybody. I've written about this at length several times over the years. But I agree with you—if I did enjoy it, I would have no problem doing it just for the fun of it and the love of it. That's a good enough reason. But no, I don't enjoy it.

Shooting Skills: Contrast for Clarity

Here's a simple shooting skills exercise that might be of use to you if you've never worked on it before. It's best if you give it about two hours. The purpose is to make you more aware of tonal contrast as a way of making a main subject more clear.

You can do this with any camera, including a phone (these illustrations were taken with my old iPhone), and with either a zoom or prime lens. It's equally useful for color or black-and-white. And definitely don't worry about whether the pictures you're seeing are "good shots" or not. This is just an exercise, for practice. However, you should be "single-tasking," not multitasking. Do this when you have a clear stretch of time during which you can concentrate entirely on shooting.

What you do is look for any picture in which there's a plain or obvious single main subject, and try to take a picture of it with a background that tonally confuses with the main subject and then, a background that tonally sets off the main subject.

What you'll notice is that the changes are often not drastic. Often the difference is either just a slight change of angle or of camera position—maybe walking a few steps, getting a little higher or lower, or being more aware of backgrounds. The purpose of the exercise is to start making those little changes more automatic. What you're changing is your visual thinking, your awareness.

For practicing, the subject can be anything. Here, the subject is just an odd flower that reminded me of the SARS-CoV-2 coronavirus virion we've been seeing in scanning electron microscope and transmission electron microscope pictures. In the first exposure I made the lower boundary of the head of the plant (I'm not naming it because I have no idea what it is!) confused tonally with the yellow-green plant behind it:

Note that you might actually prefer this version, but don't pay attention to aesthetic impressions for now. You're just doing an exercise, not trying to second-guess which alternative might actually work best.

Just a slight change of camera position puts the whole head of the plant against a contrasting background.

Here's an even more mundane picture, but an excellent example of what we're looking for here. A telephone pole:

The subject is in direct view and is clear visually. The bottom third of the pole is set off against its background. But other than that, the background isn't helping; neither is the background "giving" us anything, i.e., doing any work in the picture. But take just a few steps to the left and notice the improvement in the perception of clarity:

Now the whole pole is clear against the background and the background itself is stronger because it's simpler. There's no technical trick here and the lens and sensor don't matter. It's just a matter of seeing, is all.

Mindless groove
If you've never done this exercise before you might not find a suitable subject for the first five or ten minutes. A hint: look at the world, not at the viewfinder. It will become easier as you go along and start to get the knack.

Most people don't have the stamina to do a shooting exercise for two hours. After about about 45 minutes, you'll be getting tired of the drill and be eager to say "that's enough of that."

But keep walking and keep looking. It's the second hour when most of the benefit accrues. You're bored and fed up. Finding examples is no longer challenging, and you start rejecting poor opportunities that you've learned won't really work very well. In the second hour you start to get into a more "mindless" groove. Your mind wanders and you start thinking about other things. Maybe taking fewer pictures, but still looking—ah, there's one. Yeah, this works. That's when you start to cruise, and that, I think, is when it starts getting to be second nature.

Because that's what you want. You want it to something you kinda don't think about—so that during normal shooting you'll just juke and move a little bit here and there to get rid of undesirable tonal mergers. And you'll see those problems when they come up without having to think about looking for them.

But I know that most people will quit before two hours. They don't have the stamina. Heck, some people get tired of any kind of shooting before the two-hour mark. If you want to be good at any skill you have to have enough determination to put some hours in.

Note that you can do the opposite too—you can de-emphasize an unwanted element, say by moving a little to put it against a tonally similar background so it doesn't show up as well. A few weeks ago I was shooting a car on the street and I noticed that two dark-green trash bins were vivid against a patch of light background. A change of shooting position didn't make the car look worse but camouflaged the trash cans against the dark shadowed side of a garage, de-emphasizing them. Using this trick you can sometimes "take something out of the picture" without taking it out of the picture.

I think I had something else to say about this exercise, but I can't remember what it is. If I remember, I'll add it later as an update.

Mike

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

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

Jim Metzger: "I took a class with Moose Petersen many years back. One of the exercises involved putting a small stuffed bear in a tree and asking the participants to set up a shot as if this was going to be a wildlife photo. Since this was pre-digital we had no way to exchange images but Moose just walked from tripod to tripod, glancing through the viewfinder for no more than a second or two. He declared only one of the eight participants would have a 'good photo.' The other seven were perplexed as to how he could know this. It was all about having a 'clean' background. That lesson stayed with me for the last 20 years or so and it is the first thing I explain to people who want some tips for better photos."

Jim Richardson: "Excellent! You can often tell much about a photographer by how they achieve 'separation' in a picture, making sure that competing elements get their own space. It becomes even more important when you are trying to maintain the visual presence (and thus meaning) of a small element in a composition, a small figure of a person in the distance, for example, that you don’t want to lose in the clutter. And silhouettes require this sort of thinking lest the graphic shape become indecipherable. In another realm, old time newspaper printers in the backshop always advocated that they liked photos with good contrast. Photographers (like me) often misunderstood their advice, thinking they meant we should print on No. 4 paper to get more 'contrast,' when what the actually wanted was clear separation of tonal areas."

[Ed. note: We have two Jim Richardsons who comment hereabouts. This Jim is the National Geographic photographer.]

Rodger Kingston: "I think I pretty much do this when I'm photographing, but I've never done it as an exercise. Interesting. I'm curious enough that I'll give it the two hours and see what I get. Who know, maybe this old dog can learn a new trick."

[Ed. note: Rodger is a major collector of vernacular photography and has published numerous books of his own work including 2019's Train to Providence as well as books of selections from the Kingston Collection.]

Peggy C.: "I learned this exercise years ago. It's also a good one to use when my photography is in the doldrums. I will carry my camera around and set myself a task. For example, isolating one set color against a dark background or a pattern of only one kind. I don't expect to really get anything great but it's good for my creativity. Works equally well for my painting."

Pros van Heddegem: "Thank you. Excellent elementary exercise! Good to mention this two-hour 'rule': learning is indeed also a matter of discipline."

John Krumm: "You inspired me to look through my Flickr feed to find shots where I more clearly simplified the background to emphasize contrast, or maybe emphasized it in another way. Looking forward to trying your exercise as well. Even doing that was helpful. Here’s an album of some that stood out to me."

Robert B: "Just to elucidate the biological facts: your flower is some species of allium, i.e., garlic, onion, or leek."