Peter Oshkai photography

November 1, 2015

How much should we worry

Many famous martial arts teachers suggest that in order to be most effective in a fight, or during shiai in the case of kendo, one should be completely relaxed, yet alert. However, this balance between relaxation and alertness can be quite elusive. On the one hand, it is possible to relax so completely that we would become complacent. On the other end of the spectrum, if we emphasize present-moment awareness to the extreme of being alert to every minute detail of our surroundings, the tension would strain our nerves and would likely cause over-reaction at the critical moment.

So how much tension would be optimal? One common approach is to treat each everyday practice as a critical match and then consciously relax more during the actual shiai to compensate for the effects of adrenaline.

A while ago, I read advice from a special forces veteran to rookie bodyguards regarding how much they should be worrying about potential security threats on the daily basis. He suggested to maintain the level of anxiety roughly equivalent to what we feel when a traffic light changes from green to yellow, as we are driving towards it in a car (assuming that we are completely relaxed when driving under a green light).

The analogies between martial arts and other areas of life are well known and numerous. After all, Sun Tzu’s “The Art Of War” and Miyamoto Musashi’s “The Book of Five Rings” are considered business references. In that sense, the “yellow traffic light” level of self-imposed anxiety might be a good guideline in other activities that require quick reactions and “right action” in the face of potentially changing environment, e.g. public speaking, job interviews, teaching, scientific research, photography, parenting, etc.

October 31, 2015

On missing opportunities

While we are prone to regret inaction, there is rarely a valid objective reason for such regrets. Even if we fail to take action, and the opportunities that are associated with that action are gone forever, this does not mean that we are doomed to the then-current state of affairs. As Richard Branson pointed out, opportunities are like buses, because there is always another one coming.

If we fail to act on a particular opportunity, a constructive lesson from that experience is that we are learning to recognize the opportunities and the moments when resistance, so vividly described by Richard Pressfield in “The War of Art”, sneaks in and keeps us from doing the work. For example, when I am shooting with a lens that works alright for the particular situation, i.e. it has an adequate focal length and f-number, I need to consciously make myself stop shooting and change to a different focal length (taking action) to avoid falling into a complacent shooting mode. Varying the gear, camera settings, subjects, composition, etc. might seem like a hassle at the time, but it is almost always worth it in retrospect. The good news is that that it is never too late to try all these new things at the next photo shoot, even if I miss the opportunity on a particular day.

October 30, 2015

Regretting inaction

According to Daniel Gilbert, studies in psychology show that when given a choice between taking action and doing nothing (assuming that either option has some probability of negative consequences), most people choose doing nothing. This is because it is not easy to rationalize excessive courage, while it is quite easy to justify excessive caution.

However, it turns out that in retrospect, we are more likely to regret inaction than action. Gilbert gives this example: Suppose you own a certain stock (stock A). You have a choice to either sell it and buy stock B (action) or hold on to stock A (inaction). If you choose inaction and lose money, you would regret it more than if you had chosen action and lost the same amount of money. I suppose, this is because the actions that we take become “our own”, in fact, we identify quite closely with what we do. And people tend to like (or at least are good at rationalizing) their own behaviours, possessions, choices, etc.

What are the implications of this psychological trait for photographers? I suppose, one possible conclusion could be that if you have been debating whether to buy a new expensive piece of gear, you should go ahead and pull the trigger – probably, you won’t regret it.

On a more serious note, perhaps there are implications for making creative decisions. There is a saying that rules are meant to be broken, and I think that consciously mixing up techniques, workflows, image styles, etc., instead of doing “what works” in every single photoshoot, is an example of action that requires courage. In fact, we are likely to regret not stretching outside of our comfort zones and breaking some conventions.

October 29, 2015

Using uncertainty to prolong an experience

I believe there two mutually-exclusive strategies for stimulating viewer’s interest in a photograph.

The first approach is to include many details that the viewer can examine. An example would be a panoramic landscape or a cityscape with great depth of field, where the field of view spans a large distance and every detail is in focus. This image would literally deliver a lot of information and thus would hold the audience’s attention for a long time.

The second approach is a minimalistic one: to include only a minimum of information that is necessary to convey the impression of the subject (a place, a person, etc.) and to leave it up to the viewer to fill in the details. This principle is extensively used in Oriental art, for example, which heavily relies on the concept of negative space.

To me personally, the former approach is akin to brute force (it is almost always possible to overload the viewer with details), while the latter one is more elegant and subtle. When viewing a minimalistic image, the viewer becomes a participant in the process of forming the mental impression of that image. In a way, they take a partial ownership of that impression, and it is known psychological phenomenon that we like what belongs to us more than an object of equal material value that we have no connection with.

Also, I think that people like images that leave out certain details because the uncertainty in the specifics of those details prolongs the viewers experience of interacting with the image. The mind needs time to explore the possibilities, to try different combinations of the missing details before settling on the “final” version of the impression from the image. On the other hand, when everything is spelled out for us explicitly, the element of wonder and discovery is lost, and while we might be receiving a lot of information, the experience is less personal.

October 26, 2015

Omitting details for smoother experience

When we view objects from a distance, we do not see small details, and therefore, the objects appear smoother than they really are (when viewed from up close.) If we deal with time instead of distance, we subconsciously draw an analogy between the two, as Daniel Gilbert illustrates in his “Stumbling on Happiness“, so similar loss of details occurs when we think about events that are separated from the present moment by a stretch of time (either recalling the past or imagining the future.) Our minds fill in the lost details by spreading the remaining information over time, essentially performing an interpolation similar to what a Healing Brish tool in Photoshop does with pixels in photographs during retouching. As a result, the recalled or imagined events appear smoother, softer, less irritating than the actual experience. In this sense, time really does heal.

This has significant implications in photography. It has been demonstrated that reviewing photos of past events actually shapes people’s impressions of their experiences of these event (that is why it makes sense to lug the heavy camera while walking around a new town!) So, taking travel photography as an example, is it better to take cliche postcard photos of the place that do not add many new details (e.g. a distant view of the futuristic Shanghai skyline, which is familiar to many people) and therefore leave a smooth, comfortable impression or to shoot more personal images, with details, textures and patterns that convey the essence of the experience of being there (e.g. a narrow, run-down alleyway in Shanghai)? I think, it depends on the audience. Another fact from psychology is that people view experiences that they closely associate with, i.e. ones that “belong” to the them, more positively (e.g. we tend to like our old cars, homes, clothes, places where we live, people, who live with us, etc.) Thus, people, who have walked along run-down alleyways of Shanghai would appreciate the images that re-create that experience, while those who haven’t spent much time there or did not take time to explore the city outside the touristy areas would likely prefer the postcard version. After all, the postcards are popular for a reason.

October 17, 2015October 17, 2015

Jedi mind tricks

Daniel Gilbert in his popular psychology book “Stumbling on Happiness” describes a study that demonstrated the fact that people like and strive on being in control (or rather, on perception of being in control) of the consequences of their actions. He gives examples of toddlers, who are delighted that they can topple a pyramid of blocks, to retirement home residents, who live longer because they are given a responsibility to care for a house plant.

This trait can be exploited to play “Jedi mind tricks” on ourselves, when we are working to master a skill or form a habit. Habits are notoriously difficult to form (the flip side of it is that they are also hard to break.) Particularly difficult is the initial stage of the habit-forming process, where it is psychologically easier not to perform the new behavior. Eventually, after about three weeks of daylight practice, the trend reverses, but the first days is where the resistance (read: “procrastination”), which Steven Pressfield describes in detail in his “The War of Art,” can overcome us with ease.

They way to work through this is to set up the practice in the early days I a way that makes it nearly impossible to fail, to stack the deck in our favor. Archers do this by shooting arrows at the target while standing at an arm’s length from it. Weight lifters do this by lifting a bar without plates. This practice establishes an early victory, an equivalent of scoring a goal in the first minute of a soccer match. This immediately boosts confidence and establishes a perception of control of the outcome of our actions, which is crucial for maintaining the motivation to continue with the practice.

The initial stage of (super-easy) practice might not do much for the skill development per se, but it serves as a Trojan horse for sneaking in the habit of practicing into our daily routine.

Applying this to photography, if we want to develop a habit of taking photos every day, for example, it would make sense to simplify the logistics of it as much as possible, at least when we are just getting started. This means taking the photos early in the day, before other obligations take over, avoiding complicated lighting setups (shooting with ambient light) and using a phone camera instead of a DSLR camera. Choosing subjects that would not require us to go out of our way (literally and figuratively) is also helpful. For example, I have been taking landscape snapshots using my iPhone from my daughter’s school yard when we drop her off there every morning.

October 14, 2015October 14, 2015

Technique vs content

There is a saying that in order to be a good writer, one needs to live an interesting life. I am not sure to whom to attribute this quote, but I came across similar advice to new professors: the key to having research papers accepted to peer-reviewed journals is to have something new to say in them.

This argument comes back to the dilemma that many professional photographers face – whether to specialize in a niche genre/subject or to explore various areas. Specialization allows us to hone the technique, but ultimately, it is the interesting content that makes a unique image.

Very likely, this is true in any creative endeavour: in the end, the substance always trumps the technique. It is true that the technique, the craft, the skill are important. Without them, our ability to deliver the content, to communicate it to the audience, would be limited. Still, it is a common misconception of dilettantes, in photography or other art, that it is the lack of technique, the equipment, etc. that prevents them from creating masterpieces. Tolstoy describes this in “Anna Karenina,” when Vronsky pursues painting out of boredom, armed with knowledge, but lacking commitment.

According to Steven Pressfield, commitment, particularly commitment to showing up and working on a daily basis is the key to generating great content. The skill development takes care of itself – the quantity of practice eventually transforms into quality.

October 6, 2015October 6, 2015

Discipline = freedom

I am continually amazed how well the concepts from martial arts, including tactics, training and teaching methods, etc., apply to other areas of life. Perhaps, with military training, the stakes are so high that the techniques evolved to crystallize the most fundamental and universally-applicable principles.

One of these principles is summarized in a maxim “Discipline equals freedom.” This might seem counter-intuitive at the first glance, but I find it is perfectly applicable to photography, where discipline comes up at several levels, from continuing practice and developing the shooting and post-processing skills to carefully and methodically packing the gear when going to a shoot to systematically experimenting with various camera and lighting settings during the shoot itself. The freedom then literally means creative freedom. When all the logistics and methodology is taken care of in a very disciplined inner, our full mental capacity, the entire bandwidth, is available for processing the incoming information, which allows us to react to changing conditions and opportunities during the shoot and to recognize potentially interesting patterns and combinations of lighting, composition, posing (in the case of portraits) and even future ways of using or displaying the images.

in other words, discipline allows us to reserve creativity for things that truly require it.

October 5, 2015October 5, 2015

Sports photography: pushing the shutter speed limit

Freezing the motion while shooting an indoor sport like basketball requires a high shutter speed. I used to shoot at around 1/1000 sec with an 1/2.8 lens on my Canon 1D X camera body. The indoor games are usually poorly lit, so the ISO (and the associated noise) increases significantly as the shutter speed increases (the exposure time decreases). Thankfully, the 1D X has excellent low-light performance. Besides, noise in a sport photo is more acceptable than in a landscape, for example.

Stil, there is a continuous pursuit of cleaner ad crispier images, so I have been experimenting with pushing the lower limit of the shutter speed to see when the motion blur would become unacceptable. What is acceptable is somewhat subjective, but in this case, I would like to have start images of the athletes’ faces, while allowing some motion blur in the other parts of their bodies (which actually enhances the visual impact of the photo). Also, I want to have a reasonable success rate of this kind of images. Every now and then, it is possible to capture a sharp photo even at 1/200 sec or so (I have done it by accident), but this happens purely by luck and shooting at such a low shutter speed would not be practical from a professional standpoint.

I found that with longer focal lengths (e.g. shooting with a 70 – 200 mm f/2.8 L IS), the sutter speed of 1/640 sec is a limit, while with a wider lens (e.g. a 35 mm f/1.4 L), I could shoot as slow as 1/500 sec. The difference is due to the shallower depth of field (DOF) of the longer lens (at the same f-number). Actually, the shallow DOF is highly desirable, as it allows to visually separate the subject from the background.

My general conclusion is that it is a good idea to vary the shutter speed (in the range of 1/500 – 1/1000 sec), as well as the lenses, in the course of the game. I would start with the long lens and fast shutter speed to make sure that I capture some “keeper” images and than try other lens/settings combinations in the hope to capture some more unique shots.

September 28, 2015September 28, 2015

1,000,000 suburi

Certain goals (well, most goals worth striving for) cannot be achieved by forcing our way towards them in one huge burst of effort. Instead, they require consistent, daily practice over a long period of time. In kendo, for example, as in many disciplines rooted in Zen Buddhism, performing 1 million sword swings (suburi) is said to lead to divine level of understanding of the Way of the Sword. The number 1,000,000 has some special place in Buddhism. For example, reciting a sutra 1,000,000 times would lead to enlightenment (or so they say). The point is, it is not enough to understand the technique mentally; one must truly make it a part of daily life.

From this viewpoint, it becomes clear why many teachers value “stick-to-it-iveness” over talent in their students. It is one thing to grasp the basics quickly due to one’s natural abilities and it is another thing altogether to have dedication to show up for practice on the daily basis. Great changes happen by evolution, not revolution…

Of course, the showing up aspect becomes easier, at least at some basic level, as time goes by, because the practise becomes a habit. In other words, it becomes easier to practice than not to practice. That is why it is important to set yourself up for success initially, to make it impossible to fail during the first weeks that are crucial to habit-forming. For example, do not commit to doing thousands or even hundreds suburi, pushups, fill-the-blank’s, etc.; do just 5 or 10 (surely you can spare 30 seconds out of even the busiest day!), but do it every day, without exceptions, and do it first thing after waking up, so that there is no possibility of postponing it until tomorrow.

Digging a bit deeper, however, things become more complicated. Suppose, the habit of practicing has been formed and we are cranking out the reps on the daily basis. This is where the practice becomes automatic, mechanical, and thus loses its quality. A high-level kendo sensei once pointed out a fact that sounded like a truism: factors that lead to success are (a) quantity of practice and (b) quality of practice.

Still, there is something inherently fascinating about the transforming effects of daily practice. Perhaps, this is why sharing workout logs with the numbers of accumulated pushups, miles, steps, etc. are so popular in the social media, and so are the “365 photos” projects, where photographers take and share a photo every day for one year.

With the photography or blogging projects in particular, the inevitable (but, hopefully temporary) drop in quality is obvious not only to the author, but also to the audience – things are no longer interesting when the novelty wears away. I think that this is the point where it is important to slow down and to bring the quality back into focus, while still showing up for practice every day. This means that the 1,000,000 suburi mark, “where the sword rips trough the space like silk” (or The Force becomes our ally), is not going to be reached in a couple of years, and 365 pictures will likely not make us drastically better photographers. In my case, I will report back in about 20 years whether the one-million’s cut was any different from the first…

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