Making a good start

More photos on Flickr: http://ow.ly/xvxoDComplete set: http://ow.ly/xvxro

The first practice of the year is significant in kendo, because it reinforces the importance of starting things “right”, which is applicable to any activity. After all, there is only one chance to start moving, but afterwards, there are multiple occasions to continue, stop or correct the course. Certainly, there are direct parallels with calligraphy, where beginning of a brushstroke determines its aesthetic quality, and photography, where obtaining correct focus and, to some degree, exposure during the shoot is irreplaceable by any amount and skill in post-processing.

I try to carry this mindset, which we practice in kendo to everything else I do. In this sense, any activity becomes a practice. Is this another New Year resolution? Perhaps, but I believe the key is to practice daily; the beginning of the year just seems like an appropriate time to reflect on this.

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On planning

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I wrote earlier that working with other people is beneficial for the various projects, including photo shoots. The flip side of this is that the more people are involved, the higher the level of responsibility . As a consequence, more planning is needed in order for the project to succeed. In fact, the planning can become a project in itself.

I am preparing for the start of the new academic term, and planning for the course that I will be teaching has been consuming my time for the last couple of days. Actually, I like the planning stage and understand importance of teaching, but in my experience, there is a point of diminishing returns, beyond which more planning would not yield any substantial improvement in teaching (or, indeed, learning, from the students’ perspective). In fact, Richard Reis in “Tomorrow’s Professor” wrote that a common trait among top performing academics is the ability (and willingness) to be less than perfectly prepared for lectures and other components of their teaching. Doing so serves two purposes: it saves time for other activities, e.g. research (or, perhaps, kendo?), and it allows one to teach in a more natural, spontaneous manner, actually improving the quality of teaching.

Without over-analyzing this fact, I am going to take it as an excuse reason for putting the work away for tonight, even though “being perfectly prepared” is not even on the horizon at the moment.

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Indigo

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My favourite colour is blue. Or maybe, purple, because in painting, it can appear either cool or warm, depending on the adjacent colours. Naturally, I find the colour indigo, which is between blue and purple in the electromagnetic spectrum, fascinating, with all its history and applications in art (fashion) and martial arts.

The indigo dye was developed in India, and it was a very rare commodity in Europe in the middle ages. During Napoleonic wars, which coincided with the development of technology that allowed mass production and dyeing of fabrics, the French uniforms (habit à la française) were dyed with indigo.

In Japan, the import of silk from China was restricted during various prolonged periods, and cotton was difficult to dye with anything, except indigo. Over time, an intricate process, indeed an art form in itself, of indigo dyeing was developed. There is a belief that indigo dye repels bacteria and insects. Probably, for that reason, practice uniforms for kendo (keiko go) are traditionally coloured with indigo.

Nowadays, indigo is often used to colour denim fabric. Interestingly, the much thought-after Japanese denim is often made on vintage shuttle looms, developed by Toyoda company in the 1920s. These looms are slow and produce a nonuniform fabric by today’s standards, but for denim, this is a valuable feature, as slight variations and imperfections is what makes the jeans unique.

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I took some macro photos of the fabric of two pairs of jeans that I own: a factory-distressed pair bought as a souvenir while I was on sabbatical in Japan (I was lucky to find a size that fit) and a brand new “raw” denim pair (i.e. it has not been washed after dyeing). True denim enthusiasts are rumoured to go month or even years before washing their raw jeans in order to develop the wear patterns that are unique to the wearer. I don’t think I will go that far (my kendo keiko gi is sufficiently sweaty, so I would rather keep my other clothes relatively clean), but breaking in the new jeans will be a fun little project, even just for observing the changing hue of the indigo dye. Perhaps, I will take more closeup shots of the fabric to record the process.

I don’t think I will be able to reproduce the cool wear patterns of the pre-distressed jeans, but it is neat to know that they will be will be one-of-a-king and, in a very direct way, an expression of my lifestyle.

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New Year resolutions

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I believe New Year resolutions are often not effective because, fundamentally, the first of January is not different from any other day for developing new habits or making changes in daily life. So if it is challenging to make small changes, one-by-one, throughout the year, it is even more difficult to make many drastic changes all at once.

Still, there is something to be said for aiming high, as David Swartz explained in “The Magic of Thinking Big.” I am fascinated by people, who explored similarities and interconnections in the underlying principles of scholarship, arts, and martial arts. There are many illustrious examples in history, from Miyamoto Musashi to Leonardo da Vinci, which are truly inspirations to the world.

A few months ago, I came across a quote from a note written by Bruce Lee to his wife in 1963, when they were dating. It resonates so deeply that I would not be able to formulate my own resolutions more clearly or more completely.

Here it is:

“…To live content with small means;
to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion, to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich;
to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly;
to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never.
In other words, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common.”

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My favourite photos of 2014

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At the end of the year, I move my old photos to external storage, which is a chance to look through the last year’s folders. I certainly have some images that I like, but that are still unpublished on the web. Mostly, however, my Flickr photostream is a good representation of the photos that I like most. Among them, the ones in this post are my personal favourites, in no particular order.

Happy New Year!

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Problem solving

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Importance of routine

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“The lack of interruption in trains of thought may be the critical ingredient in an environment that enables creative flow.”
Ronald T. Kellogg, “The Psychology of Writing

Establishing a habit of working in a certain physical environment and/or during a particular time of day can be very effective for maximizing performance, whatever the definition of that happens to be. Writers are famous for following rigid daily routines and odd rituals, but the underlying principles apply to any creative work or work that involves concentration and/or thinking, such as reading, academic research (which is mostly reading and technical writing), drawing/painting, practicing martial arts, etc.

I like how the rigid structure of a typical kendo practice, for example, serves to establish confidence in the teaching methods in the students of all levels. This routine is reinforced by reigi, good manners or etiquette, which is the first thing taught to beginners and which permeates the entire practice, from the the first bow upon entering the dojo to the last bow upon leaving it. 

In other things that I do, the routine is not as rigid, but there is some structure, and I find that I depend on it more than I thought earlier. For example, in my research, I like to read technical papers during certain times of the day, and I try to reserve specific amounts of time for my own writing. I find that brief, regular sessions, a concept that I learned from “Tomorrow’s Professor” by Richard Reis, work well for me, but the lack of interruptions during these sessions is crucial.

Similarly, I find that attempting multitasking while doing photo editing does not work for me. Initially, I followed advice of some professional photographers, who claim that they can go through large amounts of photos in Lightroom while watching TV in the evening, for example. I found that doing so detracts from both activities for me, so that I neither enjoy the movie nor have fun editing the photos. Working on the photos becomes just that – work, and an otherwise good movie becomes a distraction.

Having said this, a routine can be a double-edged sword, which can lead to stagnation or even burnout. For me, a nice thing about the part-time nature of my photography is that I can experiment with different strategies of organizing my work without the confines and expectations (whether real or imagined) of a conventional working environment.

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Zanshin

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As part of the recent kendo grading, I had to write a short essay about various concepts related to the Way of the sword. I am constantly amazed at how many parallels there are between kendo and photography. Actually, there are parallels between kendo and everything else in life. This should not be surprising. After all, Miyamoto Musahsi wrote about it in “The Book of Five Rings” in the middle of 17th century, and he was far from being the first person to do it.

Particularly relevant to professional photography is the concept of zanshin. Literally translated as “remaining spirit,” it is a state of readiness for the next action, immediately after the previous action has been completed. In kendo, zanshin is demonstrated, when a kendoka’s posture and mental state after completing the strike enables him (or indeed, her) to execute another technique (waza) without a pause. In Japanese culture, there are many manifestations of zanshin in everyday life, from leaving one’s shoes pointed towards the exit upon entering a house to parking a car facing the exit of the parking stall – ready to leave without delay.

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For a professional photographer, zanshin is important on various levels. On the level of actual shooting, I know that must remain alert of the next opportunity to capture the evolving scene immediately after taking a shot. This approach is particularly important in sports and action photography, but it is also relevant for portraits and other genres.

On the level of of photo shoot production, it is crucial to keep all gear (cameras, lenses, lights, tripods and light stands, etc.) packed at the end of each shoot, so that it is accounted for, organized and ready to go for the next shoot with our the need to re-pack anything. There are many specialized packing solutions, Pelican cases being particularly popular among many pros. Personally, I find that a regular luggage suitecase works well for my lighting gear, while the cameras and lenses go in a Lowepro backpack.

On a grander scale of my overall approach to photography, I think of zanshin as a mental state of starting to work out the ideas and certain details of the next photo project before the current one has been completed. This approach ensures continuity of engagement in photography, which, in turn, enables continuous improvement, kaizen, – another deep concept of Japanese origin, which is a subject for another post.

More photos on Flickr: http://ow.ly/xvxoDComplete set: http://ow.ly/xvxro

Shooting new subjects

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Specializing on a particular subject in photography has tremendous benefits in terms development of skills and personal branding. However, it is also important to regularly shoot new subjects. The insight from trying new things can enhance the main area of activity.

For me personally, shooting sports, which I started doing a few years ago, was a drastic departure from landscape and stock travel photography that I was doing up to that point. Skills that I acquired by shooting action enabled me to change my approach to travel photography – instead of focussing exclusively on locations, I began actively including people in the photos. In fact, this changed my view of travel itself. After all, human interactions, including visual communication through photographs, are the fundamental basis of our daily activity. Changing the environment in which these interactions occur, which is the essence of travel, add different flavour to human relationships. I believe that capturing this local flavour of the human element is key for adding emotion content to the photos.

From a purely technical standpoint, learning to compose the image quickly and to be decisive in taking the shot, which are important skills for a sports photographer, is very useful for taking portraits of children.

In my personal projects, I aim to add variety to the shots through consciously pushing my comfort limits by using new techniques (both during the shoot and in post-processing) and exploring new subjects.

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Gingerbread house

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Another first ever Christmas project for our daughter – decorating a gingerbread house together. She was very excited to help, but it was time for bed before we could finish. Licking the icing off the fingers is, of course,  a big part of the experience at this age.

My wife and I took turns taking few candid shots of the house-building process. Our daughter is becoming an experienced model. She was fully aware of the camera, but it did not bother her. In fact, she seems to enjoy being photographed these days. As far as I see in other children, this willingness to pose and relaxed attitude in front of the camera will pass with age. Until it does, I am enjoying the fascinating opportunity to look through the lens at our little girl exploring the world.

Drawing snowflakes

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For this year’s Christmas card, I used a portrait of our daughter as a background, on top of which I drew a winter motif in Photoshop. Initially, I looked for various card templates, but decided that it would be more personal (and more fun), to paint the picture by hand.

I sampled the colours from my daughter’s drawing in the photo and painted a snowy tree on a separate layer using various natural-looking brushes in my list of presets. I used a Wacom Intuos Pro Graphics Tablet, with the size and hardness of the brush linked to the pen pressure.

Then, on a separate layer, I drew the streaks made of snowflakes. To do this, I created a custom brush using a snowflake-shaped brush tip (I found a free set of simple snowflake-shaped brushes by doing a Google search) and adding the following dynamics:

  • Scattering:
    • “scatter” setting of approximately 150% with “both axes” box checked – to make each brush stroke consist of individually-visible snowflakes;
    • “count jitter” setting of about 75%.
  • Shape dynamics:
    • “size jitter” and “minimum diameter” settings of about 20%;
    • “angle jitter” of about 10% – so that the individual snowflakes would be slightly rotated within the single brushstroke.

When my daughter saw the final picture, she said that she drew it. In part she is right – I used elements of her doodles in the picture, which makes it special for me. I think about it as our first collaboration and hope that one day she would be up for drawing something together for real.