Christmas photos: family and friends

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Here is my plan for taking pictures when we get together with our friends’ family this Christmas. I am going to keep photography somewhat low profile, without making a photo shoot instead of the dinner, although I received a specific request to bring the camera (which I take as a compliment).

The friends’ house has a lot of natural light, so I am going to shoot mostly without flash, using fast prime lenses (Canon EF 35mm f/1.4L USM and Canon EF 85mm f1.2L II USM) on my Canon EOS-1D X.

One thing that I want to take a bit more formally is a group photo. We’ll use it as an excuse to extract everybody from the table at some point. I am going to email the group picture to the friends the same day – instant gratification and ability to share it over social media is more important in situations like this than even qualify of the photo itself. This photo would also be a preview of more pictures to come over the next couple of days, when I have a chance to process them.

Besides the group photo, I am going to take some candid shots of the kids and perhaps a couple portraits of adults. I like to keep the camera handy during the party, but not spend all the time clicking away. Instead, I will do a couple of brief shooting “sessions”, when others have relaxed and are absorbed by conversation, games (in case of children), or whatever else they might be doing.

From experience, I know that the shallow depth of field of the f/1.2 lens will add an artistic quality to the portraits and will make them look less like snapshots.

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On motivation

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“The great doesn’t happen through impulse alone, and is a succession of little things that are brought together.”
Vincent van Gogh.

Athletes know that motivation is easy to achieve, but difficult to sustain. This is true for any activity, which requires overcoming obstacles through practice. In particular, continuing motivation is essential for an artist. For me, van Gogh exemplifies this most of all. His life has been extensively studied and documented, but he himself also wrote about this in detail in his letters to his brother Theo. In fact, the letters are the primary reference for many studies of his life.

My wife and I are making travel plans for the next summer, and I am excited that one of the stops will be Amsterdam. Although my primary reason for going there is a conference on marine engineering, I am really looking forward to going once again to the van Gogh museum. There is something special about seeing the brushstrokes, about which so much has been written and debated over the years. This is my motivation to think about colors in my photography. Also, I find it fascinating how the cycle of mutual influence between Japanese and European art was completed by van Gogh, who applied his distinct technique to re-create the works of ukio-e masters, who themselves were influenced by Western painters.

This is how easy it is to achieve motivation. Check. Now, to the hard part – to carry this initial inspiration through and transform it into some meaningful images from the upcoming trip.

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Would Roman stoics take selfies?

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I am truly amazed how much a two-thoudsand-year-old text by Seneca called “On the Shortness of Life” resonates with the modern challenges of work-life balance. On one hand, it is comforting to know that we are not the first to come across these issues, but on the other hand, the fact that two millennia later we are still searching for a solution tells us that, most likely, there is no magic formula that works universally for everyone.

One interesting point that Seneca makes is about people’s relationship with the past. Basically, the past, unlike the present and the future, is “beyond the reach of all human mishaps, and removed from the dominion of Fortune”. He writes that it is true luxury to be able to “roam” into the past days of one’s life and access all of them at will. I think that there is an interesting implication about photography in this concept.

More photos here: http://ow.ly/BabJT

The process of taking a photograph, as everything in our lives, happens in the present, but the resulting image is a record of the past. If the image is “doctored”, it has a potential to change the reality of the past event for the viewer. However, regardless of whether a photo is a faithful depiction of reality or not, for me personally, looking through my own photos that were taken several years ago is what makes the “roaming” into the past vivid and enjoyable. The photos are much more than memory aids. They reflect what interested and bothered me at the time they were taken, my skill level as a photographer,  my level of patience and mental flexibility in going after the shot that I wanted to take.

The tough challenge, of course, is precisely what Seneca wrote about – not to lose all this insight into the past by being so “engrossed”, as he calls it, in trivial matters of the day, as not even being able to find time, mood or reason to slow down and look back. At this point, I have tens of thousands of photos that my wife and I took over the last ten years. I think that reviewingt them regularly, perhaps, just a few images at a time, would be at least as useful as shooting new projects.

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Christmas lights: unplugging from routine

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Breaking away from the daily working routine at the beginning of the holiday season has not been easy. For me, it requires a conscious effort to stop checking and responding to emails that keep appearing in my inbox. Still, both my wife and I are doing our best to unplug after a marathon of dealing with academic matters at the end of the term.

Today, we spent the entire day in the downtown with our friends, looking at Christmas trees at the Empress Hotel, having a leisurely lunch and walking along the inner harbour under rain. Breaking the routine takes me out of a comfort zone, but I know that this is necessary for avoiding burnout. For example, it is the lack of everyday comforts that makes travelling so effective in making us experience the World in a new light. The same effect can be obtained by simply walking in our home town, without any particular goal, looking at the place with the eyes of a tourist.

The term flâneur, which emerged in Paris at the end of the 19th century as a reference to urban exploring through strolling and observing the city life, is based on the same principle. Modern street photography is the extension of this urban observing. Having no particular goal for the stroll and the photo shoot enables one to be present and responsive to the experience of the city life. This exploration mode is similar, in some respect, to the “beginner’s mind”, a state that is tremendously conductive to personal development in zen buddhism and Eastern martial arts, such as kendo.

I think that being in the company of two three-year-olds, who exemplify the beginner’s mind by definition, is particularly amazing. Naturally, my photos today were mostly of them – enjoying Christmas lights and colourful window displays of the local shops.

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Overcoming self-imposed challenges

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“…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.

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Travel photography

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Recently, I listened to an interview with Rolf Potts, the author of the bestselling book “Vagabonding: An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel”. He made some excellent points on the general idea of travelling and managing information while away from home. I can certainly relate to what he said about the meaning of travel in terms of personal development, and I think that most of the general ideas apply to photography.

For me, one of the most attractive aspects of travelling to other countries is the possibility to return with a different set of views on various everyday subjects or situations. My former PhD advisor called this interaction with other cultures “being calibrated” by them. This makes world travel incredibly valuable – not many other activities have potential (and high probability) of changing me as a person is the span of a few weeks.

In order to achieve this effect, I find that I need to actively resist the urge to continue managing my work and social relationships in the same way as I do this at home. Ironically, it is the technology, which I value and enjoy tremendously, that makes it so easy to continue living in the “business as usual” mode while on the road. As a result, there is a real possibility to spend most of the trip looking at the laptop or a smartphone screen, instead of the new environment I happen to be in.

Another great value of travelling is that it lets (indeed, forces) me to experience the World with what is called in the Japanese martial arts tradition, a beginner’s mind. When I am in a new country for the first time, I am as vulnerable as a five-year-old in many respects: I can barely express myself verbally, it is dangerous to cross a street, I have a very limited sense of what is socially acceptable, I cannot find anything in a supermarket, etc. Actually, it is “growing” through this stage that teaches us the most about the different cultures and the universal aspects of human relationships.

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In terms of photography, I think that it is important to follow the same principles, i.e. to keep in mind the original purpose of being away from home and creating a photographic record of that experience. While travelling, I try to change the change the way I approach photo shoots, compared to what I do at home. For example, while some degree of planning is necessary, I consciously reduce the amount of micro-managing of the setting, lighting, etc. to be more flexible and responsive to new situations and opportunities.

Also, I try to capture the moments that are significant because of their emotional content, not just their exotic or famous settings. For example, some of my favourite images from our family trip to France last year are the portraits of my daughter, two-year-old at the time, delighted by the sheer size of the Roman and Greek statues in Louvre. We expected her to be bored by the museum, but it turned out that she enjoyed it so much that did not want to leave.

While on the road, I make backups of everything I shoot, but generally don’t post-process the images to their final form. I used to try to edit photos right away when I started exploring stock photography, but realized that doing so detracts too much from the travel experience itself precisely because it is what I would do after each photo shoot at home. Besides, it is fun to look through the images from a trip after a few months (sometimes, years) after returning home. If all of the photos were down-selected to a “nice” portfolio and post-processed, there would be no excuse to go back to them in the busy day-to-day routine.

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On efficiency

More photos here: http://ow.ly/DGvOp

“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.

Weaver

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.

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Photography in art and engineering

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“Beauty is the highest degree of appropriateness in nature”

Ivan Efremov, “Razor’s Edge”

My academic research in fluid mechanics heavily relies on experimental methods that are based on photography. At the same time, in my photography, I enjoy subjects that are related to my research: water, clouds, architecture, ships, airplanes, birds, etc. Although these two areas of interest benefit each other, and in some sense, both my photography and my research straddle the junction between art and engineering, I have not been engaged in hybrid research per se. I believe this is true of majority of colleagues, who work in the similar area. Engineers produce knowledge that is applicable to engineering projects, and artists produce objects of art that can communicate emotions directly, so the classification between the two is usually quite clear.

Philosophically speaking, the results of true hybrid research are not strictly art or engineering. In  fact, the status of such results and their function in the world is not clear. I am wondering if even Leonardo da Vinci, perhaps the most recognized “renaissance man”, produced works that were objects of both art and engineering at once, not one or the other.

On the other hand, it is clear that engineering advances can enable artistic creation (e.g. computer graphics). Likewise, artistic objects can be used to communicate complex scientific and engineering concepts to broad general audiences.

I believe there is definitely a close connection between art and engineering, and therefore a potential to make productive contributions to both fields through photography – a technique that is firmly established in both worlds. It would be interesting to apply photography to create objects and knowledge that would truly belong to both fields at once.

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On choosing a niche: travel and stock photography

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As I mentioned in an earlier post on specialization, although some degree of focus is probably beneficial for photographers, actual selection of the niche can be difficult.

I believe the most important factors in selecting the area of specialization are

  1. What you enjoy doing/shooting.
  2. What you are good at.

Also relevant, but somewhat less important question is whether a lot of expensive equipment would be required (and whether you already have some of it).

Some business experts also suggest considering how competitive the prospective niche is and how well would it pay. I would argue that for someone, who is not looking to immediately make photography his/her main career by abandoning the current way of making a living, these considerations are a poor place to start. Personally, I would not want to trade the enjoyment of photography for potential financial returns, although I find the commercial aspects of photography (as any applied art, for that matter) fascinating.

I started doing travel and stock photography, because it allowed me to add focus to family vacations, and it had a potential for very passive income from repeat sales. Presently, I think that stock photography has two main drawbacks. From financial perspective, the income is very low, and a very large portfolio is needed before any money starts trickling in at all. Perhaps more importantly, from creative standpoint, my stock photos that have been most successful are rather cliché. Taking those kind of photos requires looking at the subject not through my own eyes, but rather through the eyes of a corporate client (which is an average of about all possible clients one can imagine). It can be a fun exercise, but it is not something I would do all the time.

Having said this, travel photography is still tremendously interesting to me. Fundamentally, what I like about it is probably what makes most people pick up a camera in the first place – ability to capture the moment and re-live it later while looking at the photo. Nowadays, when I take photos while travelling, I like to think about what aspects of the experience I want to capture and convey. More and more often, it involves people, whom I meet during the trips.

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Importance of teaching

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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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