Ad copy and book flaps are full of references to (often excellent) photographers who are "uncompromising" in their pursuit of their images.
Bio-writers get something of a pass on this because they're often not concerned with specific technical details, but to advertising copy writers, I call a bullshit on you.
Many (maybe most) decisions on equipment purchases and use are based on compromises. People who work exclusively in a studio environment have a better chance of avoiding this, but I'm guessing that there isn't a single working pro who hasn't made image-creation decisions without acknowledging that they're sacrificing one "ideal quality" in pursuit of another.
A truly uncompromising photographer would have to design and create each part of his or her image-making process, from the body of the device to its image receptor (film or sensor) and its lens and THEN design the post-image process the best suited the specific exposure, be it software, chemistry, substrate, emulsion... even display environment.
That simply doesn't happen.
Photographers, professional and amateur alike, make compromises at nearly every step of the image making process. There will be the odd "golden moment" when equipment and scene mesh absolutely perfectly, but those are exceedingly rare. The rest of the time, we can only strive to keep our variances from the ideal to a minimum.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
A Seasonal Recollection
What seems like ages ago now, we went to our first John Doan "Victorian Christmas" performance at the Clinton Street Theatre.
Doan is a regional fixture, and for several years before that had had a kind of hokey Christmas special on OPB TV. "Hokey" only in that the story was a bit too contrived for adults. The music was great.
His live performances around Christmas were based on the same theme: wandering into a Victorian-era parlor to hear old compositions played on period instruments. We thought we knew what to expect.
We settled into our seats and enjoyed his welcome and his storytelling. His specialty is the harp-guitar, and he never stays away from it for very long, drifting briefly off to a banjo, or guitar or autoharp or any of the several oddball period contraptions before returning to his instrument of choice.
Partway through the performance there was, as there always is, a singalong segment. We all had our lyric sheets on the off chance that we didn't know the words.
I can't even remember what we were asked to sing, but as the voices rose around us emotions seemed to lift as though by a long wave. I can't carry a tune in a bucket, but I tried. I wasn't going to get left behind on that ride.
We soared through the first carol and Doan looked up from his harp-guitar. Like mine, his eyes were wet. He smiled broadly and almost whispered "Wow, it sounds like choir practice just let out."
A half-dozen voices in various parts of the audience answered back: "It did!"
The laughter that resulted didn't break the mood, and we launched into the rest of the segment, everyone part of the same choir for a few minutes.
I wasn't alone in not being able to keep my eyes dry, but we all kept singing.
The rest of the performance seemed particularly inspired and the mood throughout the theater remained quietly elevated, as though we all knew we'd been a part of something unique.
We all filed out afterward, talking to people we'd never met before and would probably never see again. Smiling, quietly wishing each other happy holidays, we passed the audience for the next performance, which happened to be the regular Saturday night showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
The audiences of the two shows couldn't be much different, and yet even the crew waiting to take our places inside seemed to brighten up a little as we went by in such great moods.
I've attended many of those performances since in many different locations, but none has matched that first one. Each has been "good to wonderful" in its own way, but none seemed to make a full choir out of all of us the way that that first one did.
Doan is a regional fixture, and for several years before that had had a kind of hokey Christmas special on OPB TV. "Hokey" only in that the story was a bit too contrived for adults. The music was great.
His live performances around Christmas were based on the same theme: wandering into a Victorian-era parlor to hear old compositions played on period instruments. We thought we knew what to expect.
We settled into our seats and enjoyed his welcome and his storytelling. His specialty is the harp-guitar, and he never stays away from it for very long, drifting briefly off to a banjo, or guitar or autoharp or any of the several oddball period contraptions before returning to his instrument of choice.
Partway through the performance there was, as there always is, a singalong segment. We all had our lyric sheets on the off chance that we didn't know the words.
I can't even remember what we were asked to sing, but as the voices rose around us emotions seemed to lift as though by a long wave. I can't carry a tune in a bucket, but I tried. I wasn't going to get left behind on that ride.
We soared through the first carol and Doan looked up from his harp-guitar. Like mine, his eyes were wet. He smiled broadly and almost whispered "Wow, it sounds like choir practice just let out."
A half-dozen voices in various parts of the audience answered back: "It did!"
The laughter that resulted didn't break the mood, and we launched into the rest of the segment, everyone part of the same choir for a few minutes.
I wasn't alone in not being able to keep my eyes dry, but we all kept singing.
The rest of the performance seemed particularly inspired and the mood throughout the theater remained quietly elevated, as though we all knew we'd been a part of something unique.
We all filed out afterward, talking to people we'd never met before and would probably never see again. Smiling, quietly wishing each other happy holidays, we passed the audience for the next performance, which happened to be the regular Saturday night showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
The audiences of the two shows couldn't be much different, and yet even the crew waiting to take our places inside seemed to brighten up a little as we went by in such great moods.
I've attended many of those performances since in many different locations, but none has matched that first one. Each has been "good to wonderful" in its own way, but none seemed to make a full choir out of all of us the way that that first one did.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The Grouch Gets Poked Once Too Often
And he starts to snarl.
The little angel on his left shoulder (yeah, I picked left on purpose) says "Be nice. Everybody has a right to express themselves in their own way."
The little devil on his right shoulder (in the 21st century US, the devil is on the right, trust me) says "Yeah, sure, but dammit, why can't they use a spell-checker, or at least give enough of a damn to want to know if they're sounding like a half-wit?"
Am I speaking of anyone in particular? No, I wish it were that simple.
MySpace, Facebook, blogs and public forums of all stripe are filled with such obvious examples of the failures of the US's education system.
Far right wingnuts demand "English-only" speech, but can't manage simple English on their posters at demonstrations.
Far left folks get just as bad at times because rules are for "tools" and so they flout them willfully. Sometimes. Sometimes artfully.
A tangent: I had a couple of wise teachers in high school ("Hi Pat!, hi Carol!") who in their own ways let me know that I was only allowed to break the rules after I had demonstrated that I understood them.
We all make mistakes. But they shouldn't be a lifestyle.
We have so, SO many ways to communicate these days, but the discourse is deteriorating, and I'm so disheartened.
I need to be clear about this note: As I noted many months ago when I started this blog, if English isn't your first language and you're trying to make yourself heard, GO FOR IT! But if English is the only language you've ever known and you're still butchering it, you're insulting yourself and the language you're supposed to be fluent in.
The little angel on his left shoulder (yeah, I picked left on purpose) says "Be nice. Everybody has a right to express themselves in their own way."
The little devil on his right shoulder (in the 21st century US, the devil is on the right, trust me) says "Yeah, sure, but dammit, why can't they use a spell-checker, or at least give enough of a damn to want to know if they're sounding like a half-wit?"
Am I speaking of anyone in particular? No, I wish it were that simple.
MySpace, Facebook, blogs and public forums of all stripe are filled with such obvious examples of the failures of the US's education system.
Far right wingnuts demand "English-only" speech, but can't manage simple English on their posters at demonstrations.
Far left folks get just as bad at times because rules are for "tools" and so they flout them willfully. Sometimes. Sometimes artfully.
A tangent: I had a couple of wise teachers in high school ("Hi Pat!, hi Carol!") who in their own ways let me know that I was only allowed to break the rules after I had demonstrated that I understood them.
We all make mistakes. But they shouldn't be a lifestyle.
We have so, SO many ways to communicate these days, but the discourse is deteriorating, and I'm so disheartened.
I need to be clear about this note: As I noted many months ago when I started this blog, if English isn't your first language and you're trying to make yourself heard, GO FOR IT! But if English is the only language you've ever known and you're still butchering it, you're insulting yourself and the language you're supposed to be fluent in.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Reading the Ship Report
Some things are a given. When there's a ship in the anchorage or passing by with three sets of king posts,bet on it being the Sammi Crystal. If you're in Astoria, this "just is".
Still, I look for confirmation.
After making a stop at Safeway for necessities, I saw the familiar profile against the afterglow. Checking the ship report site confirmed what I already pretty much knew... the big rustbucket was back in town.
But there was more. The Oriente Sky is in the anchorage, too! This is the ship that I photographed about a year ago when the Columbia looked like a storm-tossed sea.
Both ships are featured, for the next few hours, anyway, in my first public display of photographs.
Interesting that they'd both show up as the curtain comes down on that episode.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Worth the Trip
I regularly question the sense of driving between 75 and 150 miles to one-day cycling events. But, since I don't really have any riding partners over here, and I've used up the majority of the available roads many times over, I still do it.
Saturday's Harvest Century started in Hillsboro, so I drove "The Barrel" and the Sunset Summit, much of it in full darkness.
The sun started to rise as I turned onto US 26. I risked making myself late by stopping several times to shoot.
The "fog in a bowl" image was at the viewpoint turnout. The balance were on the way in from US 26 a few miles from Hillsboro. The ride itself traveled through most of that area an hour or so later.
It was a beautiful day, and I was glad to be on the bike, but I could easily have burned up the morning chasing more photographs. Good thing I left the "big bag" at home. These were all shot with the Lumix, and a couple needed slight Photoshop adjustments to "give me back" the scene that I saw.
Saturday's Harvest Century started in Hillsboro, so I drove "The Barrel" and the Sunset Summit, much of it in full darkness.
The sun started to rise as I turned onto US 26. I risked making myself late by stopping several times to shoot.
The "fog in a bowl" image was at the viewpoint turnout. The balance were on the way in from US 26 a few miles from Hillsboro. The ride itself traveled through most of that area an hour or so later.
It was a beautiful day, and I was glad to be on the bike, but I could easily have burned up the morning chasing more photographs. Good thing I left the "big bag" at home. These were all shot with the Lumix, and a couple needed slight Photoshop adjustments to "give me back" the scene that I saw.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Well, I'll be...
Looks like the Nobel Committee is in strong disagreement with me. Or at least they're a lot more optimistic than I am.
Well, good!
At least the "non-US" portion of the planet has stopped loathing our leadership. That's what I take out of the Peace Prize selection, anyway. "Hey, look! They elected someone that doesn't hate the rest of the world, and he's not bent on killing us all through overt hostility or callous neglect!"
Not insignificant matters, to be sure, but we still need some real focus here.
If the Nobel Prize was offered in the form of a chalice (I know it's not), I'd see it as something to yet to be filled, a major project yet to be completed. Expectations expressed but not yet fulfilled.
For all of our sakes (including the counter-patriot wingnuts currently freaking out en-masse), I hope the Nobel Committee remains happy with their choice in the coming years.
Mr. President, you've got yet another high bar to get over. I know you didn't ask for it, but I hope you make it!
Well, good!
At least the "non-US" portion of the planet has stopped loathing our leadership. That's what I take out of the Peace Prize selection, anyway. "Hey, look! They elected someone that doesn't hate the rest of the world, and he's not bent on killing us all through overt hostility or callous neglect!"
Not insignificant matters, to be sure, but we still need some real focus here.
If the Nobel Prize was offered in the form of a chalice (I know it's not), I'd see it as something to yet to be filled, a major project yet to be completed. Expectations expressed but not yet fulfilled.
For all of our sakes (including the counter-patriot wingnuts currently freaking out en-masse), I hope the Nobel Committee remains happy with their choice in the coming years.
Mr. President, you've got yet another high bar to get over. I know you didn't ask for it, but I hope you make it!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
When the Hangover Starts
Trivia question: Which 80s pop band released a song by that title?
But I'm talking about the electoral hangover, not the alcohol induced one. And I've got one.
As I've noted previously, I didn't expect miracles, an immediate reversal of a catastrophic economic slide or a sudden, inexplicable outbreak of peace and harmony on the planet.
But what I did expect and had reason to hope for was a change from "business as usual" in the White House, with a trickle-down effect into the houses of Congress.
Silly me.
Do I regret not voting for the old grouch from Arizona and his Froot-Loops-crazy glamor girl sidekick? Oh, hell no. I can induce nightmares in the daytime when I consider that scenario.
But my disappointment in the President is growing daily. It's not hatred or bigotry or anything else that the crackers on the right have going for them. Regardless of what their nutball signs might say, it's really that wing of the public that leans right far enough to approach Nazism. The very fact that so many of them are utterly befuddled by the political spectrum points up either the failure of our education system or the complete success of the right-wing media machine. Or both.
I'm disappointed with the President for not standing up for the ideals that he ran on. Come on, Mr. President, let's make a fresh, strong pot of coffee and get a fresh start with some real focus!
Trivia answer: Squeeze
But I'm talking about the electoral hangover, not the alcohol induced one. And I've got one.
As I've noted previously, I didn't expect miracles, an immediate reversal of a catastrophic economic slide or a sudden, inexplicable outbreak of peace and harmony on the planet.
But what I did expect and had reason to hope for was a change from "business as usual" in the White House, with a trickle-down effect into the houses of Congress.
Silly me.
Do I regret not voting for the old grouch from Arizona and his Froot-Loops-crazy glamor girl sidekick? Oh, hell no. I can induce nightmares in the daytime when I consider that scenario.
But my disappointment in the President is growing daily. It's not hatred or bigotry or anything else that the crackers on the right have going for them. Regardless of what their nutball signs might say, it's really that wing of the public that leans right far enough to approach Nazism. The very fact that so many of them are utterly befuddled by the political spectrum points up either the failure of our education system or the complete success of the right-wing media machine. Or both.
I'm disappointed with the President for not standing up for the ideals that he ran on. Come on, Mr. President, let's make a fresh, strong pot of coffee and get a fresh start with some real focus!
Trivia answer: Squeeze
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