Techniques – Page 16 – Peter Oshkai photography

January 13, 2015January 13, 2015

Avoiding mental attachments

“…sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”

– Marilyn Monroe

Although planning is a crucial part of a photo production, things often do not go according to the plan during the actual photo shoot. This is not always a bad thing (some believe that anything that happens, happens for a reason), but it is important to mentally flexible if such situation occurs.

Recently, I came across some interviews and writings of Josh Waitzkin, who had a very successful career as an international-level chess player and is also an accomplished material artist (he trained in Brazilian jiu-jitsu under the instruction of the phenomenal Marcelo Garcia). Josh talks about mental attachment to past decision and how to avoid it.

To explain a mental attachment using a chess example, assume that I looked at a position on the board and decided to implement a certain combination. As the game unfolds, the opponent tries to implement his/her own plan, which changes the situation – what used to be a good plan, becomes not so good, because the objective situation has changed. (This is what makes chess and martial arts so much like real life.) If I stay mentally attached to the original plan of action, my own actions would make the situation worse, because they would be out-of-touch with the objective reality. In martial arts also, one of the fundamental concepts is to be present in the moment, “read” the opponent and not to be absorbed by one’s own thoughts and fears.

I believe that like any fundamental skill, mental flexibility in the face of unexpected changes requires practice. In photography, for example, if my arsenal of shooting and lighting techniques is fairly diverse, I would be able to adjust my shooting if the location, models or props do not work the way it was planned.

January 11, 2015January 11, 2015

Using phone camera

I wrote earlier about my favourite camera apps for iPhone. Currently, I am experimenting with my new iPhone 6 plus, which has a much improved camera, compared to an iPhone 5. To me, the main appeal of the phone camera is that I always have it with me. Of course, despite all the impressive improvements, a phone came is not a DSLR. In order to avoid disappointment, it is important to understand what it can and cannot do. There are many resources for learning this, both online and in print. The book on the right is a good example.

For example, the iPhone camera is excellent for macro shots. It also works amazingly well for shooting well-lit scenes, like the shot in an indoor butterfly garden above. However, the low light performance is quite poor. In other words, the images taken in low light have a lot of noise.

In some cases, noise is quite acceptable. This is true for sports images, for example, although a phone camera would a very poor choice for sports, because of the short focal length of the lens.

I took a couple of photos with my iPhone during an early morning hike up Mt. Doug, when it was still dark. It was very foggy and dark, so I new the images would be very noisy. Instead of fighting the noise, I tried to use it to create an artistic effect. After returning home, I brought the photos from my iCloud into Lightroom. The photo of the gnarly tree above had almost no colour in it to begin with, so I slightly increased the contrast and converted it to black-and-white using Nick’s Silver FX plug-in. I used the “Fine Art process” preset, which increases local contrast and brings out small details. I wanted to preserve the noise pattern, because I thought it looked like the surface of a watercolour paper.

The photo of the signal light in the fog (below) reminded me of the Impressionists‘ paintings, so I wanted to play with it’s colours to create an image in that style. In Lightroom, I bumped up noise reduction sliders (both luminance and colour) to very high values, around 50. Of course, this results in significant loss os sharpness and detail, but just like the Impressionists, I was not concerned with these kinds of things. I also increased the saturation of the Blue, Red and Purple colour channels almost to the maximum.

January 3, 2015January 5, 2015

On planning

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 a~~n excuse~~ reason for putting the work away for tonight, even though “being perfectly prepared” is not even on the horizon at the moment.

January 2, 2015January 5, 2015

Indigo

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.

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.

December 30, 2014January 5, 2015

Importance of routine

“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.

December 29, 2014

Zanshin

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.

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.

December 26, 2014December 27, 2014

Drawing snowflakes

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.

December 19, 2014

Overcoming self-imposed challenges

“…difficulties of every sort [are] to be welcomed by those seeking fulfillment.”

Alain de Botton, “The Consolations of Philosophy”

I think that having ideal conditions for a photo shoot (models, location, equipment, time, etc.) can sometimes be counter-productive to creativity and developing photographic skills. Just as artists consciously limit their palette, it is stimulating for a photographer to work within constraints imposed by the available equipment, setting or lighting conditions.

For example, during my travels, I often don’t carry all my lenses, so when a photogenic moment presents itself, I might not have the “ideal” tool. Likewise, I often see the most interesting scenes in less-than-ideal lighting conditions. These situations force me to be creative, experiment with new angles, be less result-conscious and let go of micro-managing the shoot. This mental freedom from the fear of not producing the best possible image is essential for being present and not overly concentrated on my own preconceived ideas of how things should or should not happen.

When I practice kendo, I often choose to use only a limited set of techniques (waza) against a particular opponent in order to either work on my weak point or further develop my personal best technique (tokui waza). I use exactly the same approach when I photograph basketball or other sport. I often use a lens that is difficult to master in terms of achieving a perfect focus and framing, such as Canon EF 85mm f1.2L II USM Lens, which has an incredibly shallow depth of field and a fixed focal length. Having worked through these challenges makes the resulting even more meaningful.

December 17, 2014December 17, 2014

On efficiency

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
Annie Dillard, “The Writing Life”

I have been spending substantial effort on optimizing my photography workflow. This primarily applies to post-processing, but the concept is also relevant to the overall process of creating an image – from planning to shooting/production to retouching. Having experimented with it, I think that sometimes it is important to consciously forego efficiency for the sake of exploring new ideas or perfecting particular techniques.

It seems that in most aspects of our lives, productivity became the etalon of success (or at least the main indicator for potential for success – whatever the definition of the latter may be). Unfortunately, the flip side of this is that efficiency often tramples presence – active intellectual and emotional engagement with the job at hand.

Drawing again a parallel with kendo, the Japanese Way of the Sword, I learned from a hachidan (8th dan) sensei that personal development requires a combination of quality and quantity of practice. To achieve quantity, certain degree of efficiency is absolutely necessary. After all, nobody has an infinite amount of time to devote to any single aspect of training. However, quality of practice requires presence. As I mentioned in the post about the learning process, we need to engage with the subject and make it own own.

In photography, the focus on efficiency is particularly prominent in high-volume shoots, where increasing the quantity of images offered to the clients is viewed as a way of boosting the overall sales. I would argue that this approach does not necessarily lead to the long-term development of a creative photographer. Personally, I have been working on consciously reducing the number of shots I take in a given photo session. This is not to say that I change my shooting style to the one of the days of analogue film. I just try to think ahead of what I want to capture before firing off a high-speed burst from my 1D X. In post-processing, having a limited (read: manageable) number of images to start with frees up time, which allows me to have fun with the photos by trying new techniques, thinking about what works for a particular type of shot in terms of composition, lighting, etc.

I believe that quantity of practice for photographers comes from consistency – regularly shooting new projects, either for clients or for personal interest and fun. Quality, on the other hand, is achieved by allowing ourselves to sacrifice some efficiency for presence, i.e. engagement with the subject and the process of creating the image.

December 14, 2014December 14, 2014

Importance of teaching

I wrote before about involving people in photoshoots by asking them to model, assist or critique my work. It is especially beneficial to collaborate with other photographers, who are at different levels in terms of their technical skills, creative ability and career. This variety of levels enables one to learn and, just as important, to teach.

In kendo, the continuing development of the technical skill and the philosophical understanding of the way of the sword can be represented by the following diagram. I first learned about it in a kendo seminar, and since then have been using it in my main work as a university professor. I believe the principles apply equally well to photography and, probably, any other serious pursuit in life that involves development of a skill.

Learning diagram

Learning. This is the first stage of the skill development cycle (yes, ultimately it is a never-ending cycle – think about “life-long learning”, a concept that is a bit over-used in academe these days) – acquisition of information. It can take a form of reading a book, being taught by a teacher or a senior colleague/student, etc.
Processing. In order to make use of the acquired information, we must internally process it, make it “our own”. Examples of this, from different fields, are working through homework assignments or research papers, practicing kendo techniques (waza) until they can be performed correctly and without thinking, practicing different lighting techniques in photography, etc.
Teaching. This is a less obvious stage, but it is critically important. In order to continue our own development and avoid stagnation at a certain level, we need to share what we learned with others. Teaching requires deep analysis of the subject and communication skills. In order to transmit our knowledge to others, we have to identify the the essence of it.

The arrow that connects “Teaching” and “Learning” in the diagram is very interesting. At some point in teaching, we begin to learn from our students. In a sense, they become our teachers, and the cycle continues. In kendo, this aspect is acknowledged in a very direct way, when both the sensei and the student bow to each other. In photography, I am always grateful when I have an opportunity to answer someone’s question or when someone teaches something to me.

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