Tag Archives: Nikon

A wee thought on using different equipment

My family think that I have too much camera ‘stuff’ (I don’t dare ask them too often!) - and it doesn’t help if I say things like ‘but XYZ has so much more than I do…!’ Of course, I think I have appropriate amounts of ‘stuff’ for what I want to do…

But sometimes, I realise that there are certain pieces of equipment that I have but don’t use as much as I might (don’t tell the family!). This morning I was out with my neighbour, Mabel Forsyth, wandering around Newhailes Estate in the snow. I had my Nikon digital camera with me. At times, it snowed whilst we were there, as this shows:

Snow at Newhailes Estate, Musselburgh

Snow at Newhailes Estate, Musselburgh

As we were returning to the car, the trees by the path caught our attention. I thought I’d try something a bit different, and got the Lensbaby out. I’ve had this lens for a while, but I am weary of all the contrived flower shots - it’s art, don’t you know?! - that so many people use Lensbaby optics for (I caricature, but not by much), and that puts me off getting it out too often. I should not be swayed by that, I know. This is the Lensbaby image from this morning that I like most:

The (Lensbaby) snow storm

The (Lensbaby) snow storm

Processing has been minor: small changes to tones and curves, and other than that it has been cropped to a more pleasing 4×5 ratio, and turned clockwise by 90 degrees. As will be obvious from the first image, we were not in a snow storm (the snow was rather gentle!), but for me this second rather more abstract image communicates something more about the dynamic of snow coming down than the first one, and I rather like it.

So now I can prove to my family that some of that ‘stuff’ can be used to create nice abstract images… ;)

———-

PS My favourite image from this morning’s excursion is this one, that I put up on my other site earlier today:

Newhailes Estate, Musselburgh

Newhailes Estate, Musselburgh

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Aly Bain and Phil Cunningham in concert

On Friday evening we went with some guests from Germany to see Aly Bain and Phil Cunningham in concert in Edinburgh - just amazing. We had seen them in concert before and they are always worth going back to.

We were just a few rows back, and I found my Nikon 105mm f2 DC lens at f2 on the D90 just perfect for catching these portraits of the two gentlemen in action.

Aly Bain

Aly Bain

They were playing a number of pieces from their new album, Five and Twenty, which is rather wonderful (yes, of course I bought it!).

Phil Cunningham

Phil Cunningham

This is a time full of musical delights: Karine Polwart is releasing a new album, and I hope to be at a launch on 17.8.!

The lost bull - does he belong to you? A story about a Nikon F-301…

I know there are cultural sensitivities around such subjects, but for me, bullfights are an expression of humanity’s ability to inflict utterly barbaric torture and death on innocent creatures. The bull always loses. This kind of thing confirms for me the need to be a vegetarian and treat animals well.

But I am writing here about a lost bull in a different sense.

My neighbour, Mabel Forsyth, recently gave me an old film camera that her husband had bought her on ebay: she had said to him that to play it safe she wanted another emergency spare camera body for a July 2006 wedding she was photographing. Her husband bought it just before the wedding, but she never used it. This means there are two things she didn’t know about the camera, a Nikon F-301:

  1. there are light leaks
  2. there was already a film in it.

This posting is mostly about the second of these. The film, that I used up, is a roll of Fuji Sensia 100 (it has Fuji RA alongside the frames, along with the frame numbers). And the first half of the roll is of a bullfight - these are definitely not my photographs! Nor are they Mabel’s, who has also never been to a bullfight. Nor are they from any members of her family who might have had occasion to borrow the camera. So they must be from the previous owner…

Although I abhor bullfights, this situation intrigues me, and so if you are reading this and it is your film, do get in touch! Presuming you can show me this really was your camera, I’ll send the relevant parts of the film strip back to you!

And the light leaks? You’ll notice the circular light leaks on some of the images - these appear on mine too, using different lenses, so it is clearly a camera problem - though since she never used it, Mabel says she forgives you selling her a leaky camera!

Here are the four strips of film with the bullfight, and larger versions are available below these images. Do NOT look too closely if you don’t want to see a bull being killed: I found it rather upsetting…

Bullfight 1

Bullfight 1

Bullfight 2

Bullfight 2

Bullfight 3

Bullfight 3

Bullfight 4

Bullfight 4

Large versions: strip 1, strip 2, strip 3, strip 4.

Please pass on this blog entry via Twitter, reblogging, Facebook etc…!

Playing with Lightroom 4′s black and white conversion

I don’t convert many colour images to black and white. In general if I want a black and white image, I tend to use black and white film. I know that there are many people who use specialist conversion software, but given the cost of this kind of thing, I’ve never been that keen on going down this route.

Incoming storm, by Loch Scridain, Isle of Mull (click image to see larger version)

Incoming storm, by Loch Scridain, Isle of Mull (click image to see larger version)

However, I think the new version of Adobe’s Lightroom (we’re at version 4 now) has improved the black and white conversion processing no end. I installed it yesterday, and today I played with an image from a visit to Mull last autumn that I have tried to convert to black and white several times, but never in a way that I was really happy with. Perhaps it just needed multiple experimentations, but I do have a sense that it was considerably easier to achieve this result in version 4 of Lightroom than in version 3. I’m not sure I’m completely finished with it as I wonder if it’s maybe a little bit too dark, but it certainly now represents more of how I felt the landscape, the clouds and the weather appeared to me at the time - the fast-moving storm from the loch off picture to the left, across to the mountains. It corresponds to how I envisaged the image turning out when I took it. A minute or two after squeezing the shutter, I was back in my car, as the rain hammered down.

I don’t normally find software releases very exciting, but it seems to me that Lightroom 4 is a significant improvement on version 3. And if you want to get it at a reduced cost, Adobe has it on offer at a cheaper price at the moment to mark the release…

PS In case you’re interested in these things, the photograph was taken on a Nikon D90 with a 10-24mm lens at 24mm (that’s equivalent to 36mm in full frame terms).

Musings on film latitude and related matters

I’ve posted very little here recently, and have only added a couple of incidental items on my micro-blog. This has two main reasons: I’ve been very busy travelling for work (Germany, Norway, England in the last four weeks), and I’ve also had quite a backlog of films to scan and process. Concentrating on film and finding a revised routine to my workflow - now that I think I’ve understood what I’m doing with my new Epson scanner - takes time, and after various false starts, I think I’m finally getting there. There is now, of course, a bit of a backlog of both film and digital images (I’ve not stopped photographing!), and coupled with a desire to redo the galleries here, you’ll appreciate that I’m struggling a bit…

A beautiful Rollei image, as scanned

A beautiful Rollei image, as scanned

However, this posting is tangential to all of these thoughts! I have, partly because of the 1953 Project (and yes, there are images to go online from that, too!), occasionally been carrying the Rolleiflex with me as a ‘casual camera’. This regularly elicits interesting conversations with complete strangers, which can be surprising and very nice. For example, last week I was dining with a friend in London and after our meal I wanted to photograph her with the Rollei; a couple at a neighbouring table began talking to us about the camera, photography and so on… culminating in a request that I might consider photographing their wedding next year; of course, I declined!

Adobe Lightroom settings

Adobe Lightroom settings

The film I’m using for the 1953 Project is Ilford FP4Plus, which is rated at an ISO of 125. Ilford’s website says it has ‘enormous latitude for exposure error above and below‘ this speed. I chose it for the project partly for this reason, thinking it wouldn’t much matter if the exposure was slightly off on my portraits because I could always recover the images once they were scanned in. I didn’t realise quite what ‘enormous’ meant to Ilford, but these images clearly show that. The first image above is the scan from the negative (Vuescan reversed the negative for me). I made adjustments in Lightroom, as this screen capture shows: upping the exposure by four stops, pushing the fill light and brightness up, and then reducing the contrast and clarity settings to bring the grain under control. Aside from dust removal, these are the only changes I made to the image, revealing… Elizabeth Eva Leach, Professor of Music at Oxford University, with whom I had a stimulating lunch at the beginning of September (click on the photograph to go to her blog):

Elizabeth Eva Leach

Elizabeth Eva Leach

It’s not a great portrait, but it astonishes me that it worked at all, not just because of the film exposure issues: the café was relatively dark and I could barely see anything on the ground glass (so focusing was mostly a lucky guess), the lens was wide open at f2.8 with an exposure speed of 1/10th of a second - and yet it’s reasonably sharp despite all this! And this isn’t a coincidence: another portrait taken under similar circumstances was just as underexposed and with similar Lightroom adjustments it came out fine too:

Another Ilford FP4Plus sample, with similar exposure settings

Another Ilford FP4Plus sample, with similar exposure settings

What I love about all this is the visceral nature of the film and the process. For sure, I could have taken these portraits on a digital camera and bumped up the auto ISO settings - but I’m not convinced they would have looked any ‘better’ (they would have been different…). Of course, even the process of ‘extracting’ an image from an almost entirely black square of film gives me enormous pleasure - it’s like finding a treasure! I don’t regard myself by any means as a format fetishist, but returning to film does give me huge pleasure: my use of the Mamiya for landscapes makes me photograph with much greater consideration and precision than I used to with the digital camera, and I LOVE that.

For example, here’s a dawn image from the Mamiya taken on Velvia 50 of the Ratzeburg Küchensee in northern Germany this August. I remember taking quite a while to compose it in order to make sure the twisted twigs were below the tree line, whereas I think with a digital camera I might have fired off a good half-dozen shots at different heights and then hoped one had worked when I was back at the computer - but here I composed slowly and carefully, got it right, and then made… two exposures (er… the first one had a misplaced graduated filter that I noticed after squeezing the cable release!).

Küchensee, Ratzeburg

Küchensee, Ratzeburg

(I’ve lightened the exposure by half a stop and added a little fill light, otherwise it’s as it came from the scanner.)

In a few weeks’ time I’m off to Assynt with Bruce Percy. I’m really looking forward to this, and though I’ll take my Mamiya, I will mostly use the Nikon D90 so that images can be readily critiqued by Bruce and the group. I’m keen to observe myself with this, as it were: I’m sure my recent return to film will have changed how I use the digital camera for landscapes. Before going to Assynt, I’m also going to the Isle of Mull for a week of secluded reading - and I may just take a photograph or two whilst I’m there…

Portobello skies

An iPhone snapshot from the beach at the bottom of my road.

Portobello skies (iPhone 4)

Portobello skies (iPhone 4)

I took it immediately after taking this almost identical image using my Nikon D90 with a 10-24mm lens at 12mm. Because I had forgotten to take a filter holder with me for it (I had the filter ring on the lens and an ND grad in my pocket that would have been great for this!), the skies are partially blown out, so I’ve tried to recover that a little on the computer. Aside from adding a vignette here, I’ve not made any other significant changes to this image. Taking into account the iPhone’s tiny sensor and lens etc. etc., I’m pleasantly impressed with what it managed to produce compared to the D90.

Portobello skies (Nikon D90)

Portobello skies (Nikon D90)

On laziness, composition and zoom lenses

One of my main gripes about Nikon’s so-called ‘super zoom’ for DX cameras, the 18-200mm lens, used to be the distortion that made curves out of straight lines (mine is the older version, but the new version still has the same levels of distortion, as I understand it). And then came the fantastic new version of Adobe Lightroom and it was possible to fix all that at the click of a button. Then Nikon introduced a firmware update to the D90 and other cameras that took care of all this in camera - so you might see a sagging horizon in the viewfinder, but the camera now works out compensatory adjustments to remove this distortion, and you would see straight horizons directly on the camera’s screen (by the way, that link is to the Mac version, but if you haven’t yet upgraded to a Mac, there is a Windoze link somewhere too). Both fixes work for dozens of lenses.

So: on a recent excursion through a woodland outside Edinburgh, I thought I’d just take this zoom and leave the primes at home: exactly the opposite of what I’d been doing for quite a while now (I was only really using the zoom for portraits).

But I’d forgotten how lazy a zoom like this makes me! Here are two tree images from that walk.

Trees

Trees

The first is not particularly great, but it sort of works. The four dark trees are offset by the dried out white wood at the bottom of the image, and there is a kind of lead-in through the trees framed on either side by the differently toned greens of the trees on both left and right from just above the white wood. Shot at 95mm (i.e. about 142mm in 35mm format), it still has just about enough depth to make it look like an interesting woodland. I’m not going to be framing this and putting it on my wall, but it is vaguely passable.

More trees

More trees

But this image really doesn’t work. I was initially attracted by the white cross/plus at the top of the image - an interesting feature that I wanted to set in the wider context of the trees around it. It was only visible from a particular angle, which I happen to have found. But this image is a victim of my laziness brought on my using the zoom: shot at the full length of 200mm (300mm in 35mm terms!), it is completely flat and totally boring, as all the detail of the surrounding trees just blends into one amorphous mess. I should have walked towards it, used a much shorter focal length (that cross would still have been visible) and shot it then - but somehow, when composing, I completely ignored/forgot that wide-angle lenses increase the illusion of depth, whilst telephoto lenses diminish it.

At least this little exercise ensures I’ll take my prime lenses with me next time and just work a bit harder at the composition, including using the zoom facility known as ‘walking’ - and then this kind of silliness is less likely to occur… I hope!

Allow me to introduce you to…

… my sick camera!

'The sick camera'

'The sick camera'

This is what my 15-year old son, in his elegant way with language, means just now when describing this camera, my Nikon FM2. A few days after breaking my arm, stuck in the house and going slightly crazy, I decided to get the little FM2 out and document some of my time off due to the broken arm. So I’ve photographed: items to do with being off, different things I can do, some of the people who have visited me or that I have visited, and so on. For example, the shot above was preparation for a self-timed image of me typing with both hands, which my physiotherapist has recommended I begin to do. I can’t remember what film is in the camera - I think it is probably my last roll of Fuji Sensia 100, but it may also be a black and white print film… so that will be interesting. I’m determined to use all the 36 exposures on this little project - but don’t worry, I’ll not be inflicting images of me typing with both hands on you, even though it’s exciting for me!

I have also managed to take a couple of images with the much heavier D90 (using just my lovely light little 35mm f1.8 lens). So here’s a wee portrait of the dog wearing glasses… in my son’s inimitable style, he calls him Professor McDog:

Professor McDog

Professor McDog

At the end of this week, Neil McIlwraith from Beyond Words is intending to drop off part of an order for me, Michael Kenna’s Huangshan - I can’t wait!

The wonder of film

This evening I needed to be in nearby Musselburgh, where I would be waiting for half-an-hour at the harbour. Musselburgh has a lovely small harbour, and at the moment all the sailing boats are ‘parked’ in the car park round the harbour (in spaces that are marked ‘dinghy parking’!).

Stephanie, photographed on Ilford FP4 plus (ISO125)

Stephanie, photographed on Ilford FP4 plus (ISO125)

On the way out of the house, I took my camera, tripod, spirit level, filters, a 28mm and a 50mm lens - and looked forward to capturing some of these boats and the harbour scenes. I took my favourite film camera, the old Nikon FM2, with one of the last three rolls of Fuji Sensia that I have: this is a bit of a trip down memory lane for me, since I used to use Sensia a lot before switching to Fuji Velvia for colour landscapes; Fuji have recently announced they are stopping the production of Sensia so I have just bought three rolls of it to play with for the last time. It was fairly dark when I arrived in the harbour, and as I took my bag out of the car and began to set up, I realised that I had left my light meter at home - since the FM2′s slowest shutter speed before getting to the bulb setting is 1 second, the camera’s meter would be useless and I would have had to more or less guess all my exposures… so, sadly, I packed everything away again and went to buy a newspaper instead. Next week, when I expect to be there again, I’ll remember the meter!

I’ve read two nice postings on other people’s websites recently about using film. The first one was from the great Bruce Percy, who discussed how much he enjoyed using a particular kind of Kodak Portra film for a recent trip he made to Ethiopia and then, referring to Canon’s 5D digital camera, noted:

I get a lot of correspondence from people wanting to know how to get the same look with their 5D. You can’t.

If you want the look of film, then shoot film.

It doesn’t get much simpler than that! The other piece I’ve come across is more of a short essay by the wonderful Max Marinucci (though the second part describes how he develops film, so you may want to skim read that bit if you just want to pick up on his philosophy about film):

…patience and parsimony are virtues to be cultivated and nourished. When shooting film, you immediately accept the fact that it may be a little while before you see the fruits of your work and, by living with this, you will become a more disciplined shooter, which will in turn carry on to your digital side as well. It also means that shooting everything in sight without any thought into basics like light and composition is out of the question since you only have 24-36 shots in a roll of 35mm and it makes no sense in spending time/money developing simple, careless snapshots. This is a valuable exercise in restraint and it brings us to actually THINK before we shoot. Would you have taken a picture of your toes with film just because you can? I sincerely doubt it.

Although I use my Nikon D90 digital camera a lot, there is something wonderful about film that cannot be beaten by the more ‘clinical’ nature of digital… and it has to do with all these key components of photography that often go missing in the techno-madness that camera manufacturers obscure from us as they add ever more silly functions to their cameras: patience, composition, light, perspective… I’m not a dogmatic film shooter: of course digital cameras have their place (I couldn’t be involved in the same way in the African film festival if I wasn’t using digital, and I do like my D90). I think it is just a question of being reminded of that at times, of using film and digital in different circumstances as appropriate, and above all, appreciating film for all the wonder it can bring to the craft of photography.

Thoughts on ‘progress’ and loyalty and contemporary cameras

One of the (to my mind) coherent arguments against digital cameras is that in the longer-term they cost more than film cameras. The idea behind this is that with a film camera, once you achieve a certain quality of body/lens, there is only limited additional quality that can be achieved by replacing the body. So whilst it might make sense to buy new lenses periodically (that is another argument entirely that I will perhaps return to another time), there is generally little point in replacing a body unless you’re a professional who needs a faster autofocus, motorwinder or whatever. But for most of us, we can buy a decent film camera body and be done with it, just spending our hard-earned money on occasional lenses. Then we can direct our attention towards actually taking photographs with all this expensive stuff we’ve bought.

With digital, it’s been a whole other issue, as bodies have improved remarkably over time. Ken Rockwell describes this rather memorably as ‘digital rot‘, and Bruce Percy and many others have also made similar points in the past: people who buy digital cameras will tend to want to buy new digital cameras when ‘the next model’ comes out. In the longer-term, therefore, digital shooting costs more than film shooting, even taking into account developing and printing costs, because you buy new bodies every few years. With digital cameras, the manufacturers keep telling us, there is a marked difference in newer models: better metering and white balancing to make sure the images are better exposed, Active-D Lighting to deal with light/dark differentials (which is what Nikon calls it, I’m sure Canon will offer an equivalent though I don’t know what it is called), more megapixels, greater dynamic range, and so on…

And yes, to be sure, there is a huge difference in Nikon’s early digital cameras and more modern ones (for example, the professional level D1H that was discontinued in 2006 had a 2.66 megapixel sensor, compared to the 12 in my D90). However, I am increasingly unconvinced that all this is changing as rapidly in contemporary times as it did in the past. I write this as the ‘replacement’ for the D90 is hitting the shops, Nikon’s D7000. Yes, it looks very good, and I’m sure many people will buy it, and some of those people will make absolutely stunning images with it. But is it really so-o-o-o much better than the D90 that I should feel the need to go out and buy one?

But… but… the pixel-counter-nutheads will say, how can you ask that? Surely it’s newer, it’s better, it has more megapixels (16, as opposed to the D90′s 12… as if that really mattered! - see below), it can shot 6fps instead of ‘just’ 4.5fps, it puts the milk on your cornflakes for you and makes your tea… ok, probably not those last two.

For all practical purposes, in the DX camera range (Nikon’s cropped sensor cameras), the D90 has , until now, probably been Nikon’s most user-friendly digital camera producing better images than anything else in this price range. It perhaps even surpasses the D300, as this is heavier (though made of metal and therefore sturdier), with less easily accessible options (though they do shoot a little faster and have one or two additional imaging features). Unless you’re a professional taking hundreds of images every day, this is no better than the D90, as to all intents and purposes they use the same sensor and processor.

Now the D7000 has come along. It is an improvement on the D90, but I don’t feel that it gives me that much more than the D90 has given me already. To be sure, if I was now looking to upgrade from the D40 as I did a year ago (Nikon only list the D40x on their website - the D40 was much the same with a 6mp sensor), I would seriously consider a D7000 as well as the D90, but having the D90 now doesn’t make me want to move to the D7000.

I think we need to get away from the mentality that just because the camera manufacturers tell us that something is new and better, we believe them! They cynically presume an inherent disloyalty to the products they themselves sell us: we are no longer supposed to feel so attached to our cameras, instead willing to give them up for something ‘better’ just because it fits their marketing cycles. What we really have are fantastic machines that 10 years ago would have been way beyond anyone’s imagination, and I for one, feel I barely scratch the surface of what my camera can do. I have taken about 10,000 shots with my D90, but know that I am continually learning how to use it better. The early great photographers always said, ‘know your camera so that it becomes second-nature to use it’. I’m quite happy to admit that only after the first 2-3,000 or so shots did I feel I was beginning to really understand what my camera was doing and what I could expect of it. Getting to that point opens me up to using it more creatively, to experimenting with some of the capabilities that lie hidden in the menus or the way it interacts with particular lenses - and only once I’ve got all that sorted out, can I engage with it much more intuitively and create images that centre on the key themes of lighting, composition, visualisation and so on. Buying a new camera gets in the way of that, at least for me - I found it initially quite difficult to move from the D40 to the D90, as certain things kept not happening that I was expecting to happen, and other things did happen that I hadn’t expected!

The only real upgrade at this time, I think, is in format. If I was going to change from the D90, the DX sensor D7000 is not where I’d go. If money was not an issue, I would be interested in the full-sized sensor D700 or D3x - but that would in turn necessitate other lenses…

So if you’re anything like me, don’t fall for the camera manufacturers’ hype. If you have a great camera that you like (and most cameras can be great cameras in the hands of those who know how to use them properly), then stick with it - show it loyalty, and it’ll reward you with images that emerge from your intuitive abilities and interests. And you’ll be doing the environment a favour too…!

PS The difference in the D7000′s 16 megapixels and the D90′s 12 is as follows:
D7000: 4,928 x 3,264 - D90: 4,288 x 2,848
This means 640 x 416 pixels more, crammed into the same sized sensor (which brings its own problems, as I understand it…) - if my maths is right, this is about a 13% increase in image size. In practical terms, unless printing huge advertising hoardings, this is totally irrelevant. In fact, even for advertising hoardings, it’s probably irrelevant since you’d never look at the image closely enough to see the individual dots that make up the image. If you want proof of this, the next time you see an advertisement for shampoo at a bus stop, go right up to the image and look very closely at the model’s face and hair to see all the little pixels that make up her ‘smooth’ skin and even ‘smoother’ hair - they are anything but smooth when viewed closeup! But we don’t normally do that, and that is what makes these small differences so unimportant in large prints. Get over the megapixel mania and think about how you produce sharper images using the light you have and the lenses you use - it’s about art, not pixel-counts!

Edward Said’s ‘Orientalism’ and a new lens

Although I don’t remember exactly when it was (it may have been when I was in Cairo in 1997), I vividly recall the sensation I had the first time I read Edward Said’s book Orientalism. It was a mind-blowing experience - the ways in which he addressed constructions of Otherness, how it became possible to rethink what it meant to write about anyone, anywhere, and anything, what doing that meant… and all these things continue to fascinate and intrigue me, impacting on my writing and research, and on how I live. I tend to re-read most of Orientalism once a year, and find more in it each time I read it. Of course, many scholars, reputable and less-reputable, have engaged with his work in more or less helpful ways, but there is no doubt that Said transformed numerous disciplines through his work, including visual arts. Each year now at the university where I work, I teach a course in which I introduce undergraduate students in some detail to Said’s thesis. I love watching them wrestle with the topic, seeing how for most of them, it unsettles them, realigns their thinking, and makes them work through their world-view, thereby challenging numerous preconceptions about themselves and the world as they have hitherto known it. This is one of the things I have been doing at work this last week.

And the connection to lenses? Yesterday my new ultra-wide-angle lens for my Nikon D90 arrived: the 10-24mm. I’ve owned and used a variety of lenses over the years, including what are generally regarded as wide-angle lenses (28mm in traditional 35mm format, 18mm in Nikon’s cropped frame format). I’m very aware that photographing at 28/18mm can do strange things to perspective, and it is very noticeably different to shooting at a standard 50/35mm. For my FM2 camera, I’ve recently acquired a lovely 28mm to complement the existing 50mm lens - that’s wide, but not crazy. This new lens takes wideness to a whole new level - photographing at 10mm (15mm in 35mm format) does really wacky things to what you see, and from playing with it yesterday afternoon and today, I feel as if I need to relearn how to see things with the camera, at least if I want to use this lens to its full advantage.

Although wide-angle lenses are popularly seen as being able to ‘get more in’, that is actually rather boring. Here are two such boring shots taken from the same spot a few seconds apart, at 19 and 10mm (the latter with my shadow in it - oops!):

Lots of beach

Lots of beach (19mm)

A bit more beach

A bit more beach (10mm)

The wider angle doesn’t really do much for the image, does it? The advantages of such a lens, it seems to me, lie in the possibilities offered by exploiting the distortions it creates, rather than seeking to ignore them, as these two beach shots show. So here are a couple of snapshot images that show precisely that kind of distortion being used, again at 19 and 10mm, both taken from exactly the same spot, immediately after one another:

Portobello Public Art

Portobello Public Art (19mm)

Portobello Public Art

Portobello Public Art (10mm)

In other words, this lens, more than anything else, is about re-imagining the world, thinking about it in a different way. Of course, as soon as we look through a camera’s viewfinder we are looking at the world differently: the artificial nature of the perspective offered, the reduction to two dimensions rather than three and the corresponding ‘flattening’ of multiple layers of three dimensional vision - all are a function of new perspectives on the world. But I think I have become used to the changing perspectives offered by ‘normal’ zoom lenses as they move from pretty wide (e.g. 28/18mm) to fairly strong telephoto positions (e.g. 300/200mm) - I usually know what I am going to see at different focal lengths and can ‘see’ my image accordingly, often before I lift the camera to my eye. With this new lens, I’m reminded of the transformative shift in world-view I gained by engaging with Said for the first time: the radical shift in perspective of my own position coupled with the excitement offered by his views, made for a fantastic journey of (self-)discovery. With this new lens, I feel I am starting to do the same kind of thing: as when I first read Said, I can guess at the road ahead, but the radical shifts in perspective offered by the weirdness of the lens’ abilities require re-seeing the world, re-imagining my place in it, and making it something I feel at home in again. This involves practice, both in the sense of learning and getting better, but also in the sense of usage and engagement, and that is what I am looking forward to with this fantastic new lens.

Technology and art

Nikon introduced the first zoom lens before I was born, which was a 43-86mm lens - by all accounts an absolutely horrific piece of equipment. It was so unbelievably bad that it gave zoom lenses a bad name: I, for one, grew up with the idea that all zoom lenses were terrible, which they are not. Even by the time I was aware of zoom lenses (mid-late 1970s), things had actually moved on substantially, and there were many great zoom lenses available.

Ever since I began to take my photography more seriously, I have used zoom lenses, and I have mostly enjoyed using them. One of the latest ones, that I really like, is the 18-200mm, which is fantastic as an all-round lens, even though it produces slightly ‘saggy’ horizons when used wide. It is great for portraits as well as a good travel lens. But… but…

I also bought a prime last year, the gorgeous little 35mm, and it is so light and produces such beautiful images that it is a joy to have on my camera (it’s about equivalent to a 50mm on a full 35mm frame; the same as I have on my FM2). I find I use it more and more frequently. The aperture goes down to f1.8 to produce lovely blur in out-of-focus areas. I’ve also now invested in a 50mm f1.4, which for my D90 is about 75mm. This I expect to be great for portraits, especially with the wide aperture; on the basis of a few sample shots, I can already tell that it produces really creamy blur with naked skin. But I can also see that it will also be useful for certain kinds of landscapes.

There is something about the simplicity of using prime lenses that I find really attractive. Zoom lenses make me lazier, but with a prime, if I want to frame something in a particular way, I need to make myself get up and move to another location, to walk closer or further away, to think differently about how I approach a subject. It makes for a more interactive engagement with the environment I’m in and that - for me - is a very appealing aspect to photography. I tend to think that it’s not really about taking a photograph, but about making an image, and making requires much more personal engagement than taking!

At some point, you can therefore expect to read about the purchase of a wide prime too… (but unless I win the lottery that I don’t play, I expect this to be in the very distant future, given the high prices of these lenses!).

Saying goodbye, hello, and goodbye again

Sometimes I’m amazed at how attached I become to cameras. I’ve written about my lovely Nikon FM2, and also a little about my new D90. But I haven’t written about my most faithful workhorse, my Nikon D40, that I have been wanting (rather half-heartedly, if truth be told) to sell. The reason for selling is very simple: the D90 is not cheap, and my bank balance will benefit from having funds restored to it having after buying the D90. I’m very glad to have found a buyer, and in particular a very special buyer (more on that in a moment), but I’m still sad to be seeing it go. I bought the D90 for a few specific features that the D40 didn’t have, but I haven’t yet formed quite the intimate bond with it that I feel I have with the D40, even 3,500 shots on the D90 later.

The D40 was my first digital SLR, and in fact, my first digital camera at all. I had always used film until then; now I use both. It was bought reluctantly in the summer of 2008, when the shutter on my film camera jammed just before a holiday and I needed a camera. To my surprise (naive, I know!), it was only possible to buy an F6 from Nikon - whilst I’d love an F6, it’s a bit outwith my price range! So after a bit of research, I went for the D40 - the cheapest digital SLR in Nikon’s range, and despite my initial wariness, I now really love it.

Why? Because it allowed me to explore the art of photography in a way I hadn’t done quite so systematically before then, and allowed me to take some of my favourite pictures ever. This post is a brief review of my D40 photographic life…

Hotel, Bergen

Very early on, I took this image from a hotel window in Bergen, Norway, where I was for an academic conference. The 18-55mm kit lens, despite weighing next to nothing, is great, and served me well on my travels. Although I later bought the much heavier 18-200mm, the smaller lens is not only considerably lighter, it doesn’t have the barrel distortion of the larger one (that sometimes, if not used carefully, results in horizons sagging in the middle, for example).

With the D40, I usually felt I was being relatively unobtrusive - not quite like a rangefinder (which doesn’t have the clunking mirror noise that an SLR has), but it is a small SLR and therefore not as ‘in your face’ as my old film SLR was, which had a large battery grip as well as fairly big fat old lenses; this made the D40 great for social occasions (the D90 is again a bigger camera…).

Stephanie Tait

Speaking of people, it was with the D40 that I took some of my first systematic portraits. One of my very early blog posts was about directing portraits and it was with the D40 that I took several hundred photographs of Stephanie. She allowed herself to be photographed - wanted it even - in itself a new experience for me, and this enabled me to discover a whole new aspect to my photographic interest: aside from landscapes and family photography, I loved being able to photograph someone who was willing to do what I asked them to do, even if I wasn’t very good at doing it!

Stephanie Tait

However, I did go on a very helpful one-day introductory course to portrait photography at Stills, and began to find it easier to think about these things. A later photoshoot with Stephanie resulted in what I felt were better portraits. And of course, the D40 was part of all of this.

Over the summer of 2009 I spent 3 weeks on Mull, and was up about half the mornings to take dawn photographs - a wonderful experience. I used both film and digital for these sessions. Some of the D40 photographs formed the basis of a 2010 calendar I created.

Torridon

And when I went to Torridon for my first weekend course with Bruce Percy, it was the D40 that I took with me. This was the first time I’d ever spent time thinking about how to approach landscape photography under the guidance of a really great photographer, and the D40 was a great camera to have with me for that (I wrote about that in a series of blog entries: 1, 2, 3, 4). It coped with some very soggy weather (plastic bags were on hand to wrap it in whilst taking photographs!), and I came home with a collection of images that I really love.

So the D40 has been through a lot with me. It feels a bit like a ‘first ever’ camera, because we’ve done so much together. I’m reminded of all this because my D90 has been in for repair (a minor warranty issue), and so I’ve reverted to using the D40. It feels so nice and snug in my hands, and I’ve really enjoyed taking it with me for walks and events in the last couple of weeks. As it happens, a day or two after the D90 went in for repair, a friend got in touch to say she wanted to buy the D40. So in a funny kind of way, these last two weeks have felt a bit like a swansong, just before it moves on to a new owner; 15,000 exposures later, and it works as it did on the day I bought it. There is no doubt in my mind that this is a really fantastic camera - if you’re looking for a digital SLR, this is a great one to consider (though now going up in price drastically! I’m not asking for anything like the amounts noted here for mine…).

What I am really pleased about, however, in the sadness at having to sell it at all, is that the D40 is going to a very good new home. My friend Carrie is buying it, and will, I am sure, put it to very good use in her art and more generally. She is a fantastically creative individual, and very reflective of her own place and identity in relation to her art, and I’m sure she will find that a good camera will help her. I realise I’m writing about a device made of metal, glass and plastic as if it were a beloved pet cat that I need to give away when moving to another country, but it almost feels like that. For me, the idea of the camera not ‘getting in the way’ of the photograph is perfectly realised in a camera like the D40, and this fusion is exactly what Dorothea Lange was speaking about. I hope Carrie finds the D40 as useful as I did, and before long finds herself ‘fused’ to it in the way that I did.

Today I collected the repaired D90, so now it really is farewell, faithful friend.

The camera doesn’t matter, but…

Although your camera really doesn’t matter, as I say on my website (citing far more illustrious photographers than I’m ever likely to be), I am still excited at having bought a new digital camera, a Nikon D90. After my post a few days ago about prices, I decided to raid the piggy bank (i.e. take money out of the building society account where it is earning next to no interest at the moment), and invest in the D90. To my considerable surprise, it doesn’t feel that much heavier than the D40!

I’m not yet sure what I’ll do with the D40, but for the moment I’ll keep it and probably use both cameras alongside each other. I love the D40, and it is so easy to make great pictures with it…

Coping with the rain

(Stefanie, this one’s for you!)

It rained a lot over the weekend in Torridon. A LOT. Even by damp Scottish standards, there was an excessive amount of rain, and rain in Scotland, as I suggested in my second post about the weekend, has magical properties. Waterproof raincoats are sometimes tested to their limits in Scotland (perhaps it ought to be a legal requirement that all jackets sold as ‘waterproof’ need to have spent at least a couple of days in a proper Scottish downpour before they’re allowed to be described as ‘waterproof jackets’!). But even if you have a jacket that is waterproof, eventually, water still manages to get everywhere - if it’s not rain, it’s rain and sweat! This summer I walked up Ben More on Mull, and it rained almost continuously all the way up and all the way down - about 5 or 6 really miserable hours. I was quite literally soaked through to the skin, to the extent that after I drove back to the house, the car seat ended up being rather damp (but most importantly, both my cameras were safe… I had them wrapped in plastic bags!). Whenever I felt the downpour ease off a bit, I opened my jacket to take a camera out and catch a photo (none of which were any good!). This naturally let in rain, and combined with sweat, the waterproof jacket really couldn’t help me. In Torridon at the end of October, I found that my jacket was ok, but water ran up my sleeves every time I reached out to adjust camera settings - despite the jacket’s elasticated lining on the wrists. And water came in through the pocket area of my waterproof trousers (ha! damp-proof trousers would be a more accurate description!), and and and… like I said, magical properties!

But one of the things that the weekend confirmed for me about cameras in the rain is that rain really shouldn’t be something to stop you creating photographs: although there are special waterproof camera housings that allow easy access to the camera controls whilst allowing the lens free access to the open air, I have found over the years that for most circumstances, a completely clear plastic bag and some strong elastic bands also works: put the camera inside the bag, put the elastic bands round the front of the lens just behind any filters that you’re using, if necessary tear a small hole in the bag to allow the tripod mount to be used (I can just jam my tripod head into the camera holder without doing that - it tears the bag by itself), and you’re done! If you are using a zoom lens, make sure it can move forwards far enough, and you can then take your photographs (if your lens doesn’t have internal focusing, the front of the lens will probably turn when you focus - make sure your elastic bands don’t prevent this, especially if you’re relying on the delicate autofocus motors). The viewfinder will be blurred by the bag, but you’re mostly using it for rough composition in such circumstances: precise cropping can be done later. Take care when removing the bag after the rain - you don’t want to spill water from it onto the camera, defeating the object of protecting the camera in the first place!

The other thing you will need is very absorbent soft tissue for wiping down filters/lenses. Using very soft paper towels from a hotel bathroom works well, or try very soft kitchen roll (the key thing is that you need to avoid using anything that might scratch the delicate glass). I find that if the rain is heavy, I wipe down the filter and - using my remote control - immediately take the photograph. If you haven’t got a remote control, get one - my Nikon one was about £10 and it is invaluable; I’m sure Canon offers something similar.

Why bother with all this? Very simple: when it’s raining the light is often really soft and gentle, with lots of gradual changes in tone and colouration. I think it is such a shame to miss it that for a long time now I have always had a clear plastic bag and elastic bands with me in my camera bag. Especially useful in Scotland…