What I talk about when I talk about photography
Lightroom tells me that I've shot half-a-million photos since my friend Doug McKenzie gave me my first DSLR six years ago. No hobby has captured my attention so fully for so long as photography has.
Here's some thoughts on the subject.
"Everyone looks good in my photos."
This was the first thing Ric Ricard told me when I asked him for advice on shooting at Marcelo Garcia's Academy.
What Ric meant was, "everyone looks good in my photos... that I publish."
Unflattering photos go in the trash.
Another thing Ric said about shooting jiu jitsu, "the belts have to be right." If you take an epic photo of a blue belt choking a brown belt, don't post it. Don't make the lower belt look good at the upper's expense.
I want my photos to honor and celebrate all of their subjects.
Photography fits in the cracks of a busy schedule. It's a hobby I can practice nearly anytime, anywhere. It's a great hobby for parents of young kids.
Contrast this with jiu jitsu, which I can only practice at a specific time and place, and with a partner.
I am much better at photography than jiu jitsu, because I get more reps in.
My camera sometimes allows me access to places a non-photographer can't get.
My access sometimes allows me to capture moments another photographer can't get.
My favorite form of photography is candid environmental portraiture: capturing a person in moment.
"The opposite of happiness isn't sadness, but boredom."
My camera gives me something to do in spots where I'd otherwise be expected to sit still and pay attention. I get to move about the room, turn knobs, press buttons, and solve complex problems. I have to pay close attention to what's happening now to predict what'll happen next so I can be in the right spot with the right settings.
Instead of sitting, bored and distracted, I feel like the person in the room who is most engaged in the present moment.
My camera is my fidget toy.
The first time I realized that photography can rescue me from boredom was at a five-year old's birthday party at a Tae Kwon Do studio. While the adults awkwardly chit-chatted up front, I slipped off my shoes and spent the next hour on the mats snagging shots of the kids having fun.
This was one of those obligatory events where you sort of accept the invitation with a groan, yet I got to spend a full hour practicing my hobby!
Not only were the parents not offended by my antisocial behavior, they were grateful when I sent the album later that night.
Photographs are my favorite gift to give.
For most of my friends, if there's something they really want that costs less than $100, they click a button and have it two days later.
A photograph captures a moment in time that will never happen again. It is perhaps the most unique gift you can give.
Everyone enjoys a good photo of themselves.
I get more value out of one person loving a photo than a thousand people liking it.
“The best camera is the one you have on you.”
This is often interpreted as “The best camera is your phone." iPhones are indeed frustratingly good at taking pictures, but there are advantages to a dedicated camera.
A corollary is, “The best camera you can buy is one you will actually carry." Too many folks buy a heavy mirrorless with a telephoto, take it on a vacation or two, then leave it on the shelf.
The Fuji X100V is my everyday carry. It has a fixed 35mm equivalent and looks like an old rangefinder. It's always over my shoulder, either in a bag or hanging from the Peak Design Slide Light strap.
95% of the time I walk out of the house, my camera is with me. It's "phone, wallet, camera." There's no decision to make, no "bring my camera or not?" The X100V is small enough that there's no tradeoff involved – it doesn't cost me anything to carry.
That doesn't mean I take photos every day. We all go through slumps. But if I see something, my camera is on me.
Just for fun, here's the inverse of that shot (notice my finger on the button):
A small camera gets you candids that you won't get if they feel the paparazzi in their face.
If you only ever bring out your camera during the high stakes moments, you're going to shoot scared, frustrated, and miss your shots. Shooting squirrels in the park prepares you to capture lions on your safari.
Learning photography in NYC is an unfair advantage.
There's so much to shoot. NYC has a dense, rich visual tapestry. The buildings. The subway. The people! And because you move through the city on foot, you can shoot during the day-to-day activities of life, so you get more reps.
Whatever you're into, there are people in New York doing that thing at a world-class level. Especially photography. I've learned so much from walking up to someone who is holding camera and asking questions. Or from seeing a post on Instagram and considering, "why does her shot of the Brooklyn Bridge look so much better than mine?"
Why has photography stuck for me in a way that no other artistic outlet has?
There's no blank page problem. I start by capturing the scene in front of me.
There's an urgency that discourages procrastination. This moment shall pass – go get it!
It satisfies my people pleasing desires. Everyone enjoys a good photo of themselves.
There's gadgetry involved. Physical knobs with satisfying clicks. Lenses and accessories that require research.
There's a software component: a whole editing, storage, and delivery workflow to iterate on. [^2]
There's always new forms to try when one gets stale: street, architectural, events, sports, landscape, portraits, wildlife, etc.
A photograph is a piece of content that I can create, edit, and ship in five minutes.
photo - light
graph - to write
To photograph is to write with light.
On a digital camera, you write with light onto a sensor.
The amount of light is called "exposure."
Three variables control exposure. Each carries a unique tradeoff.
Shutter speed lets in more light at the expense of motion blur.
Aperture lets in more light at the expense of a lower margin of error for focus.
ISO (sort of) lets in more light at the expense of grain.
Every snap starts with a trivariate exposure calculation.
On top of that, you're making composition decisions and navigating social situations to be in the right place at the right time with your subjects still at ease.
Photography is a continuous exercise in problem solving. Much like poker and programing.
What's one difference between an enthusiast and a professional?
An enthusiast believes he's one piece of gear away from taking great photos.
There's a lot of ethical gray area in photography.
I never want to take a photo of someone who doesn't want their photo taken.
I try to ask for consent. A casual, "may I take your picture?" If they say "Yes," (98% do) I take liberty to assume that consent has been granted in perpetuity.
If someone says at any time, "Don't take my picture," that's a wrap. Done.
I avoid taking photos of other people's kids, except for close friends, and only then because I intend to share the album. I almost never post identifiable photos of other people's kids.
I've been posting photos of our daughters less and less. Derek Sivers said of his young son, "You won’t find his name or face online. I don’t think it’s right to put someone online without their permission. He’ll put himself online when he’s ready."
I find that statement convicting. Not so convicting that I've stopped entirely, but I'm super intentional about what I publish, and I acknowledge that when I post photos of the girls, I do it for my benefit, not theirs.
The value of a photo increases with each year that passes.
I'm 44 years old now. My memory has started to fade.
I'm increasingly thankful for the moments I have captured, and for the effort I put into editing and curating them.
My screensaver is a slideshow of all my Five Star Photos. Every time it turns on, I'm filled with gratitude for the beautiful moments that have made up my life.
[^1]: Title inspired by Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.
[^2]: My workflow is Photo Mechanic -> Lightroom -> Google Drive Uploader -> Google Photos Shared Albums.