Things to come

Bodie Island lighthouse, and what you don't seeThis is just a hint, because there are several posts getting lined up right now but it’ll take me a little bit to get to them. Feel free to guess how I spent the past couple of days.

I’m trying to keep my posts and photos mostly in the order of which they occurred, which might spark the question of why? And mostly, the answer is that it’s what works for me. Naturally, there are images and subjects that are stronger than others, and if I jump to the strongest, that reduces the motivation to get back to the rest; with my time and schedule (using the word extremely loosely) being what it is lately, this might result only in fewer posts. So I keep things in order to build to them, making some posts ‘dessert’ if you will. Whatever, it works, stop looking at me like that.

Completely switching topics now, this particular composition is what I call, “creative hiding” – it’s partially about trying to do something different with a fairly common (some might say ‘over-photographed’) subject, and partially about intentionally masking some elements in the scene that worked against it. I talk about this a little in a previous composition post, so you can go there in the meantime and then start looking at this image in an entirely new way, wondering just what it was that I was hiding, and where. It might not be too hard, but the kicker is, did you have any inkling that I was trying to do this before I mentioned it?

Macro photography, part 10: Evolution

In the part nine post, I talked about having to create a new method of portable macro lighting because I trashed my old method, and while this was functional, there were a few small problems with it. The coverage was a little narrow and specific, while being hard to aim, and it sometimes produced odd reflections. But the worst bit was the weight. The Metz 40 MZ-3i is a wonderfully capable flash unit, but balanced it’s not – it’s fairly heavy, and it suffers from a decision made decades ago that few have yet addressed, which is the position of the hot shoe on a camera. Sitting right atop the prism housing and so directly in front of the user’s forehead, a flash unit cannot extend backwards from the shoe mount or it will interfere with putting one’s eye to the viewfinder; that leaves left or right (usually interfering with camera controls on the top of the body,) straight up, or out to the front. Many flashes are aligned straight up, but the Metz goes out to the front, which means the weight is mostly away from the mount. This becomes much worse if you try to mount the flash on something like a small ballhead or anything else that allows precision aiming, because off-center weight requires a lot of friction to stabilize, and most small ballheads can’t cut it.

On an off-again, on-again basis I looked for other solutions, mostly the idea of a much smaller and lighter flash unit that could still do manual output; this has not been a priority among manufacturers. To paraphrase their typical thinking, if you want manual output, you must be experienced/professional, and you’ll want a lot of other bells & whistles too and will be willing to pay a shitload of money for a lighting unit. There’s one exception, the MeiKe MK-300, but the reviews of it aren’t so hot. Did no one, ever, make a small manual-output flash unit?

Sunpak Auto 322 flash strobe unitThe webbernets is great, I have to admit. Yes, someone did make one at one time, and it turns out to be the same manufacturer as my previous flat-panel flash: Sunpak. The Sunpak Auto 322, while long discontinued, is a flexible little unit with a bundle of aiming options, a built-in PC sync cord, and manual output ranging from full to 1/32nd power, as well as thyristor-controlled automatic exposure. It can flop 180° atop the shoe mount, sitting to the left, right, or vertically, and the smaller flash head can pivot 180° on its own, as can be seen in my image. It is a little bigger than palm size but about half of the weight of the Metz and much better balanced. It runs off four AA batteries and has a Guide Number of 24m/80′ – not the strongest flash you’ll find, but more than adequate for macro work.

Now, all that’s well and good, but the secret to flash photography is controlling the spotlight effect, and that means a reflector/diffuser. After a lot of careful measurements and a bit of cutting and gluing, I’d created an attachment out of black matboard (so, dense cardboard,) aluminum foil, and a sheet of almost sheer white material. The entire inner surface is coated in foil and thus reflective, all exiting from the round opening with the sheet of white material to diffuse the light a bit more. While it increases the size of the flash quite a bit, it still remains manageable and is only slightly smaller in output surface that the flat-panel flash unit, while producing a round light source. Those thick white stripes you see in my image are patches of slightly tacky vinyl, glued to the tapered head of the flash to give my softbox more purchase. All together, it looks like this:

Sunpak Auto 322 with custom diffuser attached
The top surface slopes down to a point at the front, allowing the light to bounce down through the opening, while the opening itself is far enough from the flash head that there is no chance of direct light hitting the subject – this prevents strong highlights in reflections from eyes, for instance. The round shape is more natural-looking in those same reflections, and the opening is 13cm across, so big enough to provide wide coverage for most macro subjects. Instead of being a spot source like a flashlight or spotlight, the light comes from the entire surface and provides more coverage and softer shadows. Most importantly, it’s easily portable, and light enough to position in countless ways.

Sunpak Auto 322 and diffuser mounted to camera
Being offset to the side like this, a heavy flash unit is quite noticeable, so this lighter rig is a lot more manageable. It’s mounted on a seven-inch “Magic Arm,” a slick little mount with two ballheads and a pivot joint in the middle, all tightened by just one knob – lots of positioning options, but ridiculously overpriced unless you shop around a bit (*cough* Chinese Ebay listings *cough*.) The grey thing spanning between the camera and flash unit is, of course, a Manfrotto 330B macro bracket seen in part one.

The real test, naturally, is how the images taken with this lighting rig look, and I’ll let you judge for yourself, since it was used exclusively for the images in this post, and this one, and this one, and this, and even this (the first image excepted – that’s natural light.) I’m pleased with it, even though I may add a small fill-reflector to help balance out those shadowed areas opposite the light unit.

But, I made a passing mention a little earlier of how studio macro work can still go wrong, so let’s take a quick look at one of the more amusing, though bizarre, examples. I had captured two tiny amphibians and was shooting them in a shallow tray on the back porch, using some leaves a a natural setting. I had provided a thin layer of water to keep my subjects moist and support the typical conditions, and highly reflective aspects of the setting or subject can be a problem at times. In this case, I was using a gooseneck LED desk lamp for focusing, throwing a lot of light to help nail optimum sharpness (for instance, when using the reversed Sigma 28-105 with its fixed aperture of f16, which makes the viewfinder image quite a bit darker than normal.) There’s such a thing as the wrong angle, though:

tiny amphibian with horrendous reflections
That long solid reflection over the foreleg is bad enough, but the colander effect from the LED lamp is just hideous, and a bit surreal. The only use such an image could be put to is a blog post on lighting failures so, uh, yeah…

Where does the time go?

Do you realize it’s been sixteen days without a mantis picture? Lucky I came prepared.

The largest one is being found routinely now among the peonies, so from time to time I have to do a portrait session. This is at night.

Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis lookng serious
It’s funny how subtle differences can change the ‘feel’ of an image. Above, the mantis seems like it’s looking directly at you, because the angle of the flash highlighted the compound eyes in a particular way. In the same sequence of frames, I changed the angle slightly, giving the mantis a slight head tilt and moving that reflection, and so now the reflection seems more like a pupil, making the mantis look thoughtfully off to the right.

Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis looking contemplative
Plus, when reduced for bloggage the facets of the eyes got minimized, so I had to go with a tighter crop to bring them back. That’s 7mm across the eyes, about the width of a pencil. Look at the little ‘hairs’ on the palps alongside the mouth. I love this lens…

By the way, the change in expression/perspective is not intentional, because I can’t tell what affect the flash will have ahead of time – it’s just what I see while editing the images afterward.

And now, during the day.

Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis during the day showing different eye color
Yeah, I know the background is still dark – that’s from 1/200 second at f16 aiming into open shadow where the flash won’t reach at full strength. What you’re supposed to be looking at is the color of the eyes, that nice delicate green against the dried-leaf brown of the rest of the mantis. I don’t normally see this – usually they go full green or full brown with nice stripes across the eyes, but I guess this one’s a fashion rebel. I prodded it towards the adjacent day lilies for a better background, to which it was not openly receptive. That’s a mantis glare right there.

And yes, there’s a water droplet just visible along one eye – see previous post about the rain. But if that doesn’t bring the idea home, here’s one more shot to round out the nearly-content-free post, because the angle worked pretty well. Even if it’s from the mantis quickly getting fed up and trying to go back to the peonies where it started. Meddling damn nature photographers…

Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis with evidence of recent rain

Still damp as hell

Since the deck needs to be restained, we pressure-washed it the other day. Surprising absolutely no one, we have not gone 24 hours without rain since then, and in fact the task was completed in a narrow window of sunlight during a very wet early summer – normally we start our summer drought about this time. The frogs have been quite happy with the meteorological manifestation, and so I made another foray out to see what I could find.

There were two things of note, relating directly back to the most recent podcast. The first is, I managed to track in close to that whimpering call that I was hearing before, and confirmed that it is a variant call of the Copes grey treefrogs; even watched one issuing it, little throat pouch pulsing in time and everything. So, unless there is such a thing as amphibian ventriloquists, I’m considering this mystery closed.

Second, under cover of darkness I managed to get right up close to the eastern narrowmouth toad (Gastrophryne carolinensis) when calling, the one that sounds like a goat. And when I say close, I mean holding the recorder within 15 centimeters. During the third call, you will hear a faint click that seems to cut the call off abruptly; that’s me switching on my headlamp to see if the toad’s throat swelled as much as the grey treefrogs’ (the answer: not quite, but almost.)

Narrowmouth toad call

I won’t say that this is a perfectly accurate rendition of what you’d hear in person, because the recorder’s dynamic range is probably much smaller than the actual sound being emitted by the toad. But it’s significantly closer than the irritated chittering of a brown bat that the cats had found in the house many years ago, one that gave such a vocal display that I fetched the cassette recorder. That recording was way the hell off; it seems the primary squeaking that we hear falls well outside of the range that the microphone or magnetic tape, or both, could handle, and all I actually produced was a dismal scratching sound. Very odd.

While doing the toad calls, though, I spotted a tiny little frog or toad, and went back to grab a film can to capture one for closeups, ending up with two. So I did a quick modeling session before returning them to their original location.

unidentified tiny frogs or toads
I can’t offer what species these might be, just that I suspect they’re one of the chorus frog species in the area; I’ve seen very young Copes greys and they have different markings, though I’ve never seen them quite this young, so maybe I’m wrong.

unidentified newly-emerged amphibian with scale
Curiously, in this light they appear quite light-colored, while on location they look a lot darker. The nub of the tail is still present on this one, indicating a pretty recent transition from tadpole stage. For those of you who aren’t adapting to metric, 25mm is an inch.

unidentified amphibian from dead ahead
One was slightly more cooperative than the other, but neither was all that difficult to work with. They were in a shallow pan with some leaves and a hint of water, and while they were inclined to make their way out, it was with the typical froggy movement of sitting still for several seconds before abruptly advancing a body length or three. I just narrowly kept this one from jumping onto the lens. Those toes give a good indication that this is a treefrog species of some sort, at least.

unidentified amphibian in extreme closeup
Naturally, I had to go in for the super closeup, because I could. The pupil of the eye measures about a millimeter across, if that helps at all.

This is with the help of yet another softbox flash rig, and it’s been working well so far – I intend to be back a little later on with some more details about it, including another shot of one of my models here that effectively illustrates when studio macro goes wrong. Don’t touch that dial – uhhhh, mouse? Screen? Whatevs.

That’s racist! I think…

Racism is one of those topics that the vast majority of people in the world will agree is bad. Which is helpful, because it provides a common factor in ethics, a value that is actually hard to argue against. However, the definition of racism is something that is often not pinned down very well, so broad in scope that the epithet is often applied in situations where the detriments cannot even be seen.

While I’m not going to attempt to define it distinctly here, I am going to throw out a lot of things to consider, among them stereotypes and caricatures, which we’ll tackle in order. A stereotype is the idea of a class of people, sometimes racial but more often not, that all bear some particular trait (or at least a majority do.) Stereotypes come about largely because people recognize certain tendencies in the first place, a pattern that is already present, but they can also be an introduced stereotype, something that is culturally supported and repeated but not really represented within the class, any more than any other class. Think of the idea of the idiot husband, which is such a huge facet of TV sitcoms that it can be hard not to find it repeated. This is not any more, or less, racist, sexist, bigoted, or biased that the ‘woman driver,’ yet it is rarely ever addressed, much less capable of inspiring a vehement reaction when introduced. Then there are the stereotypes of the nerdy kid or the jock, the nosy neighbor or the gypsy-attired spiritualist, the fat filthy mechanic or the lilting-voiced homosexual. When these are used in most fictional works, it is because someone is attempting to get across a particular idea quickly, with a minimum of time devoted to character development. Quite often it is used for comedic effect, which is enough to spark the idea that some form of judgment is being passed on a class of people – this is where it gets interesting. “Gay guys do not all lisp or bear an obsession with decorating!” come the protests – but it’s never clear whether anyone was trying to say that in the first place. Characters are created by far not, as some would believe, to promote an agenda, but to serve as a vehicle or a foil, a simple method of driving a plot or joke. And again, we don’t ever protest the stupid husband or the jock, do we? Why not? Aren’t these just as pernicious influences on our culture?

The use of the word “nigger” is considered extremely bad – when done by any non-black person. In certain music genres, however, it is ridiculously overused, sometimes defiantly, sometimes with pride. All of these genres are performed by black musicians and vocalists. What does this tell us about the word itself, its acceptability in “society,” its function, its meaning? Moreover, is it a stereotype to portray a black person using “nigger” conversationally, or is it a distinctive culture? Where is the line that is crossed? Now, think about this: if we insist that everyone else cannot use a particular word that is common among blacks, isn’t this a racial distinction by itself? How weird is it that someone would have to know someone’s skin color to ‘properly’ classify the word usage, as if its definition could evolve for black people but remains fixed as distinctly negative for everyone else?

What about speech patterns? The same cultures tend to have very distinctive mannerisms in speech, both in timbre (which is a prevalent trait among black people, so much so that one can often tell the color of someone’s skin over the phone,) and in word usage and slang. Now, if I (an unarguably white male) were to imitate such a speech pattern, is this racist? Am I, in some way, offering commentary on all black people by doing so, even when it is a common trait within this country? Does this only apply to certain classes or racial distinctions, or does it also apply to, for instance, the Dutch Minnesotan accent? And if not, why not?

That’s just to start the thought processes. Right now we’ll move on to caricatures. There is a caricature hanging on the wall where I can see it right now, of The Girlfriend and The Younger Sprog. It is far from an accurate portrait, and shamelessly exaggerates the features of both, but it isn’t hard to fathom that the artist was portraying them, and they’re easy to tell apart. A caricature is a method of exaggerating traits that we tend to notice – accuracy is not the goal in the slightest, but the portrayal of someone in a recognizable yet simplistic and often cartoonish way. Is this making fun of those traits, or denigrating the people depicted for having them? In some cases, perhaps the argument could be made, but in most of them it’s just a method of producing an easy portrait. Again, finding the line that’s crossed is highly subjective – and subjectivity is not something upon which we should ever pass judgment. While I might have an opinion of the artist’s motives, this doesn’t make it correct in the slightest.

Not to mention the ridiculous pop psychology that arises at such times. Even if, for instance, the artist really was trying to say something nasty about The Girlfriend’s smile, so what? That’s the artist’s problem. It’s one individual’s impression of another individual – to carry it further would require a lot more supporting evidence than one quickly-drawn portrait. But much much worse, to believe that anyone else seeing this depiction would in some way be influenced in the same negative manner is, to put it bluntly, total horseshit. We constantly hear how things like children’s television or favorite books must be influencing their malleable and unquestioning little minds, and even hear it about grown adults as well, the same ones entrusted with voting and driving cars and paying bills; we’re never the ones that can be influenced so readily by a cartoon, but, you know, they undoubtedly will. Aside from the bizarre idea that any human could be imprinted like a duckling by trivial contact with some particular attitude, there’s the ironic fact that negative judgment is being passed on a very large segment of our population, as being too stupid to recognize fiction or satire.

That brings us to humor. It’s not hard to find someone that insists that some topic should never be the target of humor, or that a humorous depiction is actually the true feelings of someone, disguised as humor to make it more acceptable. And while I’m sure the latter does occur, how often it occurs, and determining for certain that it has, are again almost entirely subjective; there’s no easy way to tell, and making that judgment in the absence of much supporting evidence is, again, an irrational bias. Humor is a very convoluted thing, and a surprisingly large number of aspects within the topic are in some way based on denigration or misfortune – if you find this hard to believe, start classifying all of the humor you hear and see how often someone comes out of it in a bad light. Stereotypes and caricatures are used often therein to both establish the premise, and to avoid any real target of this (admittedly mild) abuse.

We also have to be careful about how we view humor, especially in taking it too seriously – it’s a topic that is specifically not intended to be taken seriously, even if (such as in the case of satire) it is a method of highlighting something that might bear serious consideration; sometimes, the goal is to make us think, or recognize a situation that we might have been ignoring for whatever reason. But to claim that any topic is ‘off limits’ to humor is to miss the entire purpose of humor. We might not personally find something funny, but this is only an opinion, and the judgment should remain personal; not liking a particular song does not make the musician or the music itself bad in any way (except for ‘Jack and Diane,’ which really should never be played again. Ever.) We might find something in bad taste, and that’s fine – it means the humor failed for us, and if enough people hold that opinion, the humorist will switch to another approach. But to think that any topic should not be permitted is censorship, which is only practiced when someone has something to fear.

Moreover, the vast amount of political satire that exists, and its minimal impact on how politics is pursued, gives lie to the idea that humor is a big influence on anyone. In most cases, we find something compelling when it supports views we already hold, and fail to find it amusing when it contradicts such views. We will even, surprisingly often really, convince ourselves that something supports a particular agenda when the evidence for this is extremely thin; it doesn’t have to be an agenda that we support, either, if we’re motivated to prove a point. Again, politics demonstrates this readily, with enemies lurking behind every tree, but the overly health-conscious can create a ‘toxin’ out of anything.

There tends to be a lot of fuss about some older works, such as several Disney films and Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The latter, especially, has been on and off several banned lists, and a few years back formed the center of much debate when some over-anxious people introduced a ‘cleaner’ version of it, mostly by taking out the word, “nigger.” There are a lot of things to consider here. First and foremost, the use of the word was a cultural norm for the time frame depicted, and today’s cultural standards have no impact on the past – nor does our current attitude define how it was used then, the context, the meaning, or the attitudes supposedly held by those (note: fictional) characters that used it. Once again, the book receives this kind of attention because it is often introduced to young readers, who are believed to be far too susceptible to trivial influences – an extremely common pop psychology belief that has never been supported by any study, ever. And this is a special form of irony, because the book is one of the better, yet subtler, ways of introducing anyone to critical thinking. Words are not defined by the dictionaries, but by their usage, as we see above with black music, and throughout the book the word “nigger” is used solely how we might use “black” today – or “African-American” if one is silly enough to fall for this clumsy attempt to now make “black” a negative word. All characters therein, however, are defined by their actions and attitudes, and the primary black person, the escaped slave and Huck’s companion Jim, is compassionate, protective, and at times astute. There are quite a few people in the book with moral characters ranging from questionable to reprehensible – and all of them are white. If we are to believe that anyone is easily influenced by a book, equating “nigger” with “bad” or even “racism” is not what anyone can take away from the story in any way.

Here’s where it all gets interesting. We find racism bad, because it assigns a set of negative traits to a broad class of people, instead of simply seeing them as individuals that, like everyone else, possess some good traits and some bad traits. In other words, racism is a superficial and shallow way of making a decision. But curiously, the application of this very label is also done, far too often, in a very shallow and superficial way, thinking that anything that bears any racial or ethnic characteristic whatsoever denotes racism, or that humor is disguised contempt, and so on. When we see the scene with the raucous crows in Dumbo, are we seeing something bad? Yes, the crows carry a lot of traits of black culture from that time period, and they’re pretty dismissive of the little elephant – and they’re also clever and talented. Who decided that just bearing black cultural traits, or being sarcastic, was somehow negative? Moreover, who can support the claim this is an intentional indictment of all black people, everywhere? Why isn’t such an unwarranted assumption treated just as distastefully as racism itself; isn’t it the same damn thing?

[As an aside, I need to point out the frequent reaction that also comes up, where any depiction of some member of an ethnic group in a negative light is considered inappropriate as well, as if there’s some class of people who cannot be assholes. We might see a film with a character that is corrupt in some way, but because this character is a recognizable member of any ethnic group does not mean that the producer or director intended them to represent all members of such ethnic groups; in such cases, are we the ones making broad over-generalizations about an ethnicity when all we saw was a greedy person, that just happened to be Jewish or Italian or whatever? Did they perpetuate a stereotype, or did we?]

I can imagine that a lot of people reading this will interpret me as trying to say that there’s no such thing as racism, or that I am permitting or condoning it in some way; ‘reading between the lines’ is a favorite pastime of many, quite often when they cannot even read the lines themselves in the first place. Yet when people have a personal crusade, or fancy themselves as possessing a more ‘correct’ attitude, they’re capable of finding supporting evidence for this attitude where little to none rightfully exists. If our goal is to improve our society, then the things that we choose to decry should be able to demonstrate a harmful effect. We can’t just imagine that there might be an issue, or rely on ignorant pop psychology; we can argue that there are subtle influences that all add up, in which case we should be able to demonstrate that this is a measurable effect, and not a fool’s idea of the suggestibility of the human mind. Even more importantly, we shouldn’t be on a quest to find examples, anxious to drive forward our goals of political correctness; in such cases we’re far more likely to be reaching desperately, trying to make a plausible case just to support our preconceived ideas, rather than determining what any particular case really represents, and whether it’s even worth the bother. Feminism is presently in the thrall of crusading activists that can find gross improprieties in the strangest places, which creates an atmosphere of melodrama and anxiety, and a distaste over even being associated with such extremism – and which often leads to kickback, the spiteful swing in the opposite direction. Seizing some example that may or may not be a subtle indication of bias and pronouncing it ‘heinous’ and ‘aberrant’ is more likely to produce resentment than shame, and what’s that going to accomplish? Is judgment really likely to lead to improvement, or is it just another example of bias, the desire to appear more worthy than others? Isn’t this a form of classism all by itself? If we assign traits that don’t exist – if we apply a label that isn’t supportable – in what way is this different from what we protest in the first place? Rather than playing fast and loose with the criteria so we can find fulfillment in our roles as community watchdogs, shouldn’t we be sure that what we’re combating is actually detrimental first?

June’s weak abstract

What the filename saysI’m pretty sure I’ve said the exact same thing before, but if you’re seeing this, I failed.

For a month-end abstract, I found few images that were shot in June that satisfied even my definition of ‘abstract’ – I even went out on the evening of the 29th to see if I could pull off an idle idea, but the rain prevented me from pursuing it. So we have this one from the previous evening. I’m scheduling it to post at noon, and giving myself the morning for a last-ditch effort, but you already know that was for naught.

By the way, even as you view something like this by headlamp and can get nice distinctive sparkles from all the mist and the larger drop, that doesn’t mean the flash angle will pull off the same effect. This was almost direct flash, and you can see that it took away some of the shaping of the petals, the shadows which give depth and texture to them, but had I shifted the lighting off to the side more, I would have lost the dew. It really does help to have some flexibility in lighting, and at some point I’ll show you the present rig, which has been working pretty well so far. For now, we have a misty rose. Drink it in.

On the negative side 8

It’s been a while since I’ve observed that Florida is a special place, and I’m concerned that you might have forgotten this, so I have to illustrate it again.

First off, some things in Florida get big. For instance, birds. Sure, there are herons and vultures throughout most of the continent, but those are about the only large bird species, and they rarely allow a close approach. Florida has numerous waders, like sandhill cranes and wood storks, and scads of brown pelicans.

On top of that, Florida has the crocodilians, primarily the American alligator, though there are a handful of American crocodiles as well. And yes, I know these aren’t confined to Florida, but they’re most prevalent and visible there, occasionally ending up in people’s swimming pools. It is possible to have a casual encounter with a lizard nearly as long as your car, without having to be out “in the wild” someplace.

Now, I’m not sure how people in other states view this, but I suspect there are more than a few who wonder how insane you have to be to live in Florida, with the chance of being eaten while playing golf, but it’s really not that much of a hazard. Alligators tend to be shy and don’t usually consider people a safe target for meals – we’re too large, and above all too fatty – so mostly it’s just a matter of paying attention when one is near a water source with sloped edges. And in places, there are warning signs to remind anyone whose mind might be wandering.

And finally, Florida has fishermen, or fisherfolk, whatever word you want to use – I’ve maintained that you cannot be a resident of Florida without owning a fishing pole (which means I was only a resident alien while living there, but hey.) People will go fishing so they can go fishing – using a casting net in shallow areas to collect small fish like finger mullet to use as bait when out on a boat going after bigger fish.

Even the birds have noticed this, so much so that they hang around and pay attention when people start mucking about on docks and at shorelines. I’ve watched herons stealing from bait buckets, including one that stalked up to an empty bucket and then looked somewhat confused when it found no fish within, checking a couple of times just to be sure and then looking off into the middle distance with a distinct “WTF?” air. It’s one thing to be a thief, but quite another to look affronted when nobody left anything for you to steal.

So when I was out fooling around with some old, grainy B&W film by a boat launch, and the local started pulling in his casting net and cursing fluently at the brazen marauding avians, I had to quickly frame the shot with the warning sign, just for a little bit of irony.

Beware of Florida

Monday color. And monochrome

sharp red pond lily
We’re going to go beyond a simple color post with this one, because it’s more interesting that way. I started off with a macro shot of a small (as yet unidentified) pond lily, which loses a little bit when displayed at this size because the contrast in focus is distinctive at a larger scale, but so be it. The contrast in color is distinctive too, and it’s images like this that make me start playing around in the photo editor to see what becomes of them in monochrome.

same image in red, green, and blue channelsI’ve mentioned this before, but reducing an image down to just one (of the three) color channels can produce quite interesting effects in monochrome; in this case, all three of them had their positive points. Digital images are made up of three primary colors, and even the monitor you’re viewing this upon is breaking the image down into those. Every color displayed is a mix of red, green, and blue pixels, which is what “RGB” even means. And for some images, removing two of the colors (usually called “channels” in editing programs) can produce a marked difference in contrast and rendition. From top, this is the same image in the red channel, then the green, then the blue – the blue is the most surprising, since it’s often the muddiest when doing this. So what you’re seeing is the relative strength of the red ‘light’ in the first of the three here, rendered as monochrome – in other words, only light levels, and counting only the red light. So the purplish-pink blossom becomes almost white, because it has a lot of red in it. And since purple is a mix of blue and red, when we go down to the blue channel at bottom, we find the blossom is fairly bright there, too.

But what about the leaves themselves? Why are they even showing up in the red channel when they’re green? But this shows us some of our bias, the simplifications of our color names, as well as a trait of RGB colors. The pads are actually more chartreuse, or yellowish-green. And a curious aspect of RGB coloration is that yellow is a combination of the red and green pixels – seems counterintuitive, but you can see it for yourself right here. Now, note the pad leaf directly underneath the blossom’s shadow. It appears the greenest in the full-color version, and it’s noticeably darker in the red channel, but almost indistinguishable from the others in the green channel; same amount of green, but less red, which (when combined) means less yellow. Simple, right?

If that’s not confusing enough, the leaves in the blue channel are darkest, because yellow (or red-green if you like) is the opposite of blue. For color editing, if you increase yellow, you’re reducing blue. Or just look at it as if you’re increasing red and green while leaving blue alone – same thing, really. But overall, each channel provides a different rendition and ‘mood,’ if you will, to the monochrome image; each might have its own application depending on what you want to accomplish with the photo. The red channel really highlights the difference between the blossom and its shadow, while the blue channel makes the blossom itself stand out against everything else. Just something to play with.

Now let’s take a look at using the ‘Curves’ function in Adobe Photoshop to tweak your images more to your liking; now that anyone can use Photoshop online for free, it’s easy for me to show techniques within the program without feeling guilty that not everyone will invest in a ridiculously overpriced (for well over a decade) piece of software. In Curves, you can change the brightness of all three channels, or just one channel at a time, very selectively. Let’s say you want to increase the difference in certain colors, but only in the brightest parts of the image, or even in a very narrow band of brightnesses – say, in a sunset sky. Take a look at the original straight from the camera:

Sunset over pond with subtle colors
Not an award-winner, but it was the sunset I had to work with that evening. You can see how the reflection of the sky in the water produces more definition in the colors than the sky itself, which got washed out a little bit – this is easy to do with sunsets, because there’s a huge difference in light levels between the sky and virtually anything else, and the camera can only capture a certain range, less than our eyes can see. Now here’s a tweaked version:

sunset over pond, enhanced contrast
There are only two changes: the light levels in the brightest portion of the sky right in the middle (where most people want to look anyway,) and the shadows down at the bottom. Now the contrast in colors stands out a little better, while the darker bottom gives slightly more sense of being under the canopy of trees. Never get too heavy-handed when doing Curves adjustments, because subtlety looks more natural.

Here’s what the actual Curve plot looked like:

sunset enhancement showing Adobe Photoshop  Curves plot
The black wavy line across the middle of that X-Y graph is the controller for the light levels from darkest (bottom left) to brightest (top right,) and always starts as a diagonal line, seen in ‘shadow’ behind it. Meanwhile, that spiky grey area in the background, running mostly along the bottom, presents the actual light levels captured in the image – a lot along the left side, meaning most of the image is black and dark grey, but a little all the way across (meaning the image has a range of light from pure black to pure white) with a few spikes at the bright end along the right, which is those sky colors that are almost washed out in the original. Think of it as counting all of the pixels and assigning a brightness to each; there are more dark pixels, so more in the bar graph to the left. When you click on that solid line with the mouse, you produce a point on the line that you can then drag up or down to make brighter or darker than the original – you can see I darkened the entire line a bit (deepening the shadows towards the bottom of the image where the colors got darkest) and did a lot of playing around at the upper end of the line, which made the contrast between very narrow areas of the brightest part of the image enhanced to a greater degree. It can take some experimenting to see what works best, but it’s my favorite method by far of tweaking an image towards the effect I prefer. Try it out on your own.

Remember, too, that you can do this for each of the three color channels, selectively enhancing the blues for instance while leaving the reds and greens alone. This is a good way of counteracting the color cast that might come with different light conditions.

And then, because I was once again on a monochrome kick that day, I converted the entire image to greyscale. In this particular case, no color channel by itself provided a decent effect, so I just went with monochroming (it is too a word) the whole image.

sunset over pond in enhanced monochrome grayscale greyscale
Monochrome is all about producing the best contrast, since that’s all the image has, so it benefits from tweaking the Curves much more often than color images. And in this case, the Curves got a greater kick because the contrast between the pink and blue portions of the sky became more subtle (or nonexistent) when the color went away. So, this:

Sunset in monochrome showing Photoshop Curves function
So much for subtlety, eh? But since the contrast between colors is no longer a factor, the contrast between light levels may need to be enhanced, and thus the wilder curves in the graph – it didn’t seem to become unsubtle in the image, did it?

Again, very little change in the darker portions of the image, because reflections from water are always darker than what they’re actually reflecting (polarized, too) and so they didn’t need much changing – always be careful not to make reflections the same brightness or brighter than what they’re reflecting, because it won’t look right.

This is all illustrative, because I wasn’t terribly happy with the originals in the first place (I’ve done better, in other words,) and the sky wasn’t ideal; for one thing, some of the clouds that were even catching the sunset colors were actually jet contrails, and too straight – you can see this along the left side, both top and bottom. I positioned myself among the trees solely to try and disguise this as much as I could, so you’re actually seeing fewer contrails than existed at the time. But there’s another artifact of tweaking the Curves that popped up, and you may have already noticed it. Look at the larger leaves near the top, just right of center – see the halos? Since they were out of focus in the original image, and thus forming a full spectrum along their edges between the blackness of shadow and the bright sky beyond, the selective contrast tweak became very unnatural right there (it appears, far more subtly, in the tiny leaves against the water right near center, too.) The History Brush, which reverts the image back to an original state only where you ‘paint’ it, might have helped, or just blurring the edges a tiny bit with the Smudge tool with a very small setting could have worked. I left it in because it shows how little telltales can sneak in and look weird during editing, so keep an eye out.

Experiment, get a feel for what works best for you, and have fun with it!

Podcast: Full immersion

Copes grey treefrog  Hyla chrysoscelis on freshwater reeds
So, we revisit the concept of podcasting, but this time from a slightly different approach – not philosophy, but instead the highly exciting life of a nature photographer. I know – you’re just brimming with anticipation, aren’t you?

I’m still working out the kinks in the recording system, which means it’s a little rough and I’m far from satisfied with this one right now, but hopefully it’s not too godawful bad. So go ahead and click on the player, while down below sit the illustrations to accompany the audio. Maybe someday I’ll just do a video slide show, but that’s even more editing.

Walkabout podcast – Full immersion

Eastern narrowmouth toad Gastrophryne carolinensis perched on photographer's knee
Above, an eastern narrowmouth toad (Gastrophryne carolinensis) perched involuntarily – and briefly – on my knee. The narrow mouth might explain the vocal effect. But probably not.

Copes grey treefrog Hyla chrysoscelis in mid call
A Copes grey treefrog (Hyla chrysoscelis) captured during a call. Yes, that’s another one hiding in the shadows behind it.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea having just ceased calling
Here, the only green treefrog (Hyla cinerea) that I saw that evening views me with reproach after I interrupted its serenade. Note how the throat pouch is still flaccid, always a bad thing when advertising for a mate.

Thanks for listening!

Might catch some shit for this

Neuse River long exposureOne of my photo students, the (likely) Inconsolable Al Bugg, has been jonesing for a couple of opportunities for a while now. And unfortunately, while he is away counseling at a summer camp, I pursued both of them in just the past couple of days.

Tuesday morning I was up ridiculously early and the conditions seemed right, so in the pre-dawn twilight I headed down to the head of the Neuse River, my old stomping grounds. I used to live just a few miles away, about 17 years ago, right as I was getting serious about photography and starting to build up my stock, and it’s a neat little natural area with relatively easy access, so I spent a lot of time down there. Just one image currently resides in the gallery of my main site, right here, while another is in that rotating banner at the top, if you wait long enough (you’ll recognize it.) Mr. Bugg and I had made one attempt last year to get down there and go exploring, but properly exploiting all of the opportunities requires a period with light to average rainfall, something that we didn’t have at the time – instead, we’d had numerous downpours in the past two weeks, and the spillway from Falls Lake that creates the river itself was wide open to handle all the excess from the lake. As a result, the river level was over a meter higher than normal, which (as can be seen from these images) obscures many of the scenic aspects and makes wading impossible. It is partially due to the habits I developed for this area that the “Wading-In” site name was even decided upon.

This week’s trip, however, took place in near-ideal conditions. The water level was low enough for access to a lot of areas, and the temperature perfect – warm enough to barely be noticed, but cool enough to feel great, and the air temperature wasn’t climbing too rapidly either. The main downside was the sky, which was thick haze pushing towards overcast, preventing it from being a useful element in any scenic shots.

To truly appreciate the locale, one must be willing to get wet, and this is where the waterproof sandals are a necessity (and pretty much my main footgear all summer long.) The river bottom is just cluttered enough to make going barefoot dangerous – far too many fucking assholes that cannot discard their beer bottles in a trash bin, not to mention the other junk that accumulates – but even without that there are the mussel shells, in places completely carpeting the river bottom and easily wending their way into the sandals just to be perverse. For some reason – maybe it’s my feet – the sandals seem to be a kind of one-way valve, where the shells can get in readily enough but then somehow cannot find their way out again, no matter how much shaking and swishing my feet around I do. Coupled with the large amount of silicates in the area, ‘sand in the making’ quartz particles eroded from the distant mountains and on their way to the just-as-distant beaches, it’s not hard to get a sandal-full of abrasive junk. But that’s not enough to keep me out of the water by a long shot.

The river immediately splits into two branches straight out of the spillway, and there’s a parking area on one bank; this used to be just a canoe launch before the city of Raleigh revamped it to make it a ‘greenway’ trail for walkers, joggers, and bicyclists. The paved trail avoids all the good areas, though, so one must depart the path in the right places to find the good stuff, and thankfully not too many people even try – I was all alone for my entire visit this time. Cross the shallow river at the right spot and you come across a cut between the two channels, a placid little cove partially shrouded in shade and perfect for vegetating.

cove between two channels of Neuse River
great blue heron Ardea herodias perched in stark treeThe other end of the cove opens on the opposite channel of the river, with long narrow rock islands stretching out into the main part of the river. This area is ruled by birds: great blue herons (Ardea herodias) of course, and belted kingfishers occasionally hurtling past with their chittering alarm. A pair of red-shouldered hawks had been constantly venting their slightly anxious-sounding calls from the moment I approached the area, and once I hit the cove I found out why: a mated pair was quite concerned with a murder of crows that could not be convinced to leave the premises despite being aerially harassed by the hawks. I did not have the recorder in hand when one of them buzzed low overhead, else I would have had a great sound bite. My emergence on the second channel sent off the hawks to a greater distance, but this might well have been a good thing, because the crows completely vacated the area when they saw me.

The footing can be deceptive in such conditions. The dry parts of the rocks well out of the water mostly have a rough texture and provide about as good traction as can be expected in a natural setting, but below the surface is another matter entirely. Coated with fine weeds and algae and often an additional layer of silt, the rocks become damn near as slippery as wet ice, and stepping on one is simply asking for trouble. This meant that the camera got safely stowed just about every time I stepped anywhere, which meant that when the two herons came cruising up the river only a few meters off the water and turned directly towards me, I couldn’t get the camera out in time, missing what could have been some magnificent closeups while in flight. “Could have been” is of course highly speculative; nailing focus and framing on a moving subject in such a manner is far from guaranteed, but any photographer will usually treat it as the award-winning shot that got away.

Also on hand were some northern rough-winged swallows (Stelgidopteryx serripennis,) the first I’ve ever seen. They were performing elaborate dogfight maneuvers down low over the water, snatching insects from the air. They weren’t terribly bothered by my presence, so when a handful of them took to a nearby perch, I slipped in closer without any trouble and soon realized I was seeing this year’s brood not long out of the nest. The agitated half-flapping motion (as if trying to fan away a fart) every time an adult drew near, coupled with the gaping behavior, was kind of a giveaway.

northern rough-winged swallow Stelgidopteryx serripennis juvenile being fed by hovering adult
I did not see a single snake while I was there, which is curious because I virtually always see at least one, sometimes several – it’s an ideal location for the various water snake species. However, when turning around as I was standing near an uprooted tree, I caught the movement of a tail curling down into ‘resting’ position while the owner’s head was hidden from sight behind a branch. Moving slowly with the camera at the ready, I came around to the other side with the intention of snagging a portrait before the reptile fled. As suspected, it was a skink, but my caution wasn’t necessary in the slightest because I was approaching from its blind side.

adult female American five-lined skink Plestiodon fasciatus with damaged eye
The five-lined skink, an adult female, wasn’t completely unaware of my presence; despite the covering noise of the running water and the breeze, the sound of the camera bag’s zipper caused her to raise her head warily, ready to bolt, but she never turned enough to spot me.

Not too long after that, the battery pack/vertical grip on the camera simply failed, the mounting screw completely pulling out as I was adjusting the camera on the tripod, and luckily it was firmly in hand when it did so because I was knee-deep in the river when this occurred. If you’re familiar with Canon’s accessories, the normal battery door must be removed to fit the grip, and it slots nicely into its own space inside the grip; as this came free, however, the battery door made its escape unnoticed and still sits somewhere in the Neuse River. Which effectively prevented me from using the camera at all, since I couldn’t just insert a battery as normal either. I came home and ordered replacements for both, and resigned myself to not shooting anything for a bit until they arrived, unless I wanted to use the old D-Reb.

That was Tuesday. On Wednesday night/Thursday morning, the muggy weather produced some thunderheads outside of meteorological predictions, and it appeared a nice lightshow was at hand. I grabbed the D-Reb and trotted across to the pond nearby, but on arrival the older camera wasn’t playing nice and refused to operate, and once again I settled for watching the natural fireworks without taking any photos of it (I did shoot a brief video on my flip-phone, but that’s more of a joke than anything.)

The cell passed, but a little later on another took its place, and I thought, “The battery has a locking pin, so maybe it’ll stay in place and operate even without the battery door?” I tried it out, it worked, so I covered the battery opening with a piece of packing tape and went out across the pond again to start shooting.

distant lightning under towering thunderheadMr. Bugg has been trying to photograph a decent electrical storm for a while now, and my assurances that this can be really tricky have done little to appease him. Yet it’s perfectly true: getting a decent display, in a good setting with a good view, is more miss than hit, and I’ve gone years without any kind of acceptable shots despite being almost instantly ready for any storm that shows promise. The past couple of years have been extraordinarily lucky for me, both with the frequency of storms and the quick access to several good vantages; in the old house, there were so many obscuring trees around that I had to travel to an open sky area and hope I could find one facing in the direction of the active thunderhead.

Even when there’s a decent view (yes, you may have seen this perspective in an earlier post,) that doesn’t mean the storm will cooperate. Inter-cloud activity can provide some light and shaping to the clouds, but that often only looks like moonlight, and of course everyone wants to see the dramatic bolts. On this evening I was actually working in moonlight, the nearly-full moon shining brightly on an isolated large thunderhead. But the lightning was being shy, and when it did appear, it was primarily like this, barely visible underneath the cloud deck, mostly because of the distance of the storm. The light rain had long passed and this cell was many kilometers off, very active but mostly lacking visible bolts. I just kept tripping frames and waited; there wasn’t anywhere else I had to be at freaking three AM (I keep weird hours.)

I’d like to say that patience pays off, but storms can be fickle, and often enough I simply go back without anything even remotely decent to show for it; it occurred earlier this month, in fact, a fierce storm that I did not get home in time to take advantage of, despite the great show while I was driving (sans camera, naturally – I do occasionally go someplace without it.) And then again, sometimes it does.

distinct lightning bolt projecting from cloudsI had given up trying to frame a bolt with its own reflection in the water, and had switched orientation to zoom in a little tighter on the active part of the thunderhead, so I missed that composition, but it still looks a lot better than inter-cloud glows. Most of the time when there was a visible bolt, it was a thin thing stretching across the sky in an aimless and lint-like manner, but lightning is known for being unpredictable, and this nice ground strike is a beneficial aspect of that. The cell was near-immortal, tapering off and seeming to be fading before developing a whole new life, all without moving in the frame much at all, appearing to be stalled someplace well east. It was still slightly muggy, but not too uncomfortable, and when things like this happen you tend to ignore that anyway.

And again.

distinct lightning bolt over trees
The moon was shining bright enough to limit the duration of the exposures, plus I was aimed directly towards the city center, which was throwing a lot of light onto the lower clouds, some seen here in front of the bolt, that were much closer than the thunderhead itself – that’s where the orangish glow comes from. Someday I’ll get out to the beach, or someplace far out in the western states, to shoot storms without the taint of light pollution, but for now this is what we get.

Even when those low and close clouds thickened enough to nearly obscure the distant thunderhead, storms can surprise you, and when I had packed up and was walking back, another lovely bright bolt blasted through the obscuring humidity just to tell me I was still not patient enough. But I can’t complain about the results all the same – I’ve paid my dues over the years.

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