Now where’d I put that point’n’shoot?
November 21, 2008
I think I’m slowly coming to the conclusion that perhaps, photographically speaking, I’m going through a “down” period.
(Yeah, ok, so it takes time for these things to filter through my befuddled brain but I get there eventually… sometimes).
Whatever happened to the good old days, all of a couple of months back, when I could simply point the camera at something, click, and my only concern was whether or not Flickr would be playing up.
I say this because my most recent little photographic escapade turned out to be one more screw-up in what appears to be turning into an almost unbroken series of rather less-than-satisfactory sessions for one reason or another.
In fairness this latest experience of how things can go pear-shaped wasn’t totally unexpected… but nevertheless the fact that it did go pear-shaped was still a tad irritating.
Wednesday 19th November. Evening. Public Debate (that is, a debate attended by members of the public) on the topic of “Islamic Values vs Secular Values”. To which I’d been invited for the purpose of taking photographs. So far so good. Bit of a breeze really, you’d think.
Ahem. Not quite.
Y’see, the venue for the event was a place named The Harpur Suite (in Bedford town centre). I’ve been there before, taking photographs. In fact more than once.
Very first time was in the days, years ago now, of the antiwar protests. We’d organised a public meeting there to be addressed by a prominent MP, local dignitaries etc, and I thought it’d be a good idea to grab some photos of it for the website of our local antiwar campaign.
Used a 35mm film camera I’d acquired from somewhere (not too sure where now). All the pics were rubbish; couldn’t use any of them. Not surprising really. I never did get on with film. Of course, if I’d known then what I know now I could have easily identified that what was wrong with the pics was the white balance. Might even have been able to remedy the defect (to a large extent anyway) once they’d been digitised and converted to JPEGs… had I known then what I know now. But I didn’t, so I hadn’t. And they were a bit blurred. Um… very blurred actually (didn’t have a clue about tripods then; and on recent showing anyone could be forgiven for thinking I still don’t have a clue). Consequently there was a marked absence of photos of that event on the campaign website.
More recently, the last event I attended at the Harpur Suite (again for the purpose of taking pics) was quite a few months ago, possibly last year now I come to think of it.
And once again I came away with nothing. That time it was all down to my own pet idiocy. Yep, you guessed it… not taking a tripod.
What these experiences have done is make me very much aware of the, um… “peculiarities” of the venue.
I have a sneaking suspicion that when the place was decorated and equipped the particular needs of photographers weren’t high on the list of priorities.
The main issue with the place (in fact, possibly the only issue) is the lighting. Its weird. Its deceptive.
For starters… as a visitor, and to the human eye, the place appears to be very well lit. Quite bright in fact. But its deceptive. Very deceptive. Cos to the camera’s lens it isn’t! In fact, the lighting’s actually quite poor.
Most of the light fittings are in the ceiling, which is quite high, with a few shaded ones high up on the walls. And the walls are painted in a sort of darkish cream/magnolia type colour. No doubt its this combination, plus the “airiness” of the place, that contributes to the illusion of being brightly lit.
Well, I already knew all this, from the experiences previously related. I also knew that, given the nature of the event and the way such things are run by these particular organisers, use of a flash probably wouldn’t be appreciated.
So, in a complete departure from my normal carelessness and/or forgetfulness, I took a tripod. And not just any old tripod, but my super-duper rock-stable beast of a tripod… the Slik! “Hah!” thinks I, “well sorted”.
Arrive at the venue in plenty of good time, whilst they’re still getting the place set up. Sort out a few really good vantage points for myself (even getting them to move a complete row of chairs so that I’ll have comfortable access all around the perimeter) and take a few test shots. White balance will probably need tweaking a bit when I get to process the RAWs, but that’s no big deal (I can remember from last time that there was a huge shift to the yellow).
But then occurs the first hint of things to come.
Someone decides they don’t like the layout… it all looks a bit too “formal” apparently. So everything’s rearranged… and my chosen vantage points go completely out the window.
Modify my plans somewhat and come up with a scheme that though not giving me quite the same all-round coverage, will just about do.
Then the next snag reveals itself.
By now members of the great British public have begun to arrive and get themselves comfortable. The majority of whom are Muslim. As was expected. About two-thirds of the seats have been arranged one side, one-third on the other side, the two sections separated by the width of a couple of seats or so. That’s fine. The larger section accommodates the men, the smaller the women. That’s fine too.
But then one of the organisers requests that would I please avoid photographing the Muslim women.
Ok, anything to oblige. But that suddenly imposes quite a significant limitation on the angles and shots available to me. Dammit!
(That particular request was later countermanded by someone else, but by then it was too late.)
Well, the debate gets under way. And then I hit the next snag. No-one stays still! Not the moderator. Not the debaters. Not even the audience. Fidget fidget. Twitch twitch. Nod nod. Sway this way, sway that way. And I’m on longish exposures. Dammit again!
And of course in this sort of situation there’s no time to experiment, to play around with different settings (ISO and shutter speed sprang instantly to mind). You don’t really get the chance to try something then, if it doesn’t work, try something else. You’re doing it all real-time and no-one’s going to wait around while you get your act together. And you’re totally reliant on what the LCD’s telling you… no opportunity to quickly offload a batch to a laptop and see what they really look like. And past experience has taught me not to rely on the LCD overmuch anyway. Dammit once again!
But the real whammy is yet to come…
The principal source of recorded imagery for the event was intended to be video, with photos as a backup. Suited me fine. And that was sorted. I’d brought along a videocam and extra tripod and delegated its operating to a couple of helpful folk. No headaches there.
But the event turned out to be not quite as, um, “inspiring” as had been hoped. So they decided they wouldn’t use any of the video at all. Just go with the stills. All down to me then. Da… no, I’m getting fed up saying “dammit”.
Well, I finally managed to burn a CD with close to 40 so-so pics on it, but nothing to write home about.
What I’ve come away with is the growing suspicion that I probably need to revise my technique a bit for this type of event… at that particular location anyway.
Hmm. Time for a bit of experimenting methinks.
And there’s a particular person who first got me into this whole caper who’s now owed another thump… not once did he warn me that I’d actually have to work at this photography lark! I’m deeply unimpressed.
An object lesson
November 15, 2008
Having made a bit of a meal, as far as blogging’s concerned, out of last Wednesday’s little adventure and with particular emphasis on the climax to the adventure (the disastrous episode with the evening/night shots), I thought I’d inflict even further misery upon myself by revisiting the offending pics before binning them for good.
Yeah, I’m a bit of a masochist like that.
It then occurred to me that if I could possibly salvage one or two from the fiasco (the best of a bad bunch so to speak) and upload them to Flickr it might be informative to others as an object lesson in how not to approach night-time/evening shots.
So, with another vicious kick to the ego, that’s what I’ve done.
Managed to recover eight out of I really don’t care to think how many and they are now, in all their crappiness, prominently displayed on my Flickr photostream for the entire world to mock.
Told you I was a masochist!
All I’m hoping now is that my mate fared better than I.
Unmitigated stupidity
November 14, 2008
Here we are then. End of day. Me and mate. In The Bear. His shift about to end. An hour or so to kill.
“So”, sez I, “we up for some photos then?” What with him not having done anything at all photowise during the day and me only having grabbed a mere couple of shots since my arrival there he naturally acquiesces.
So we spend a few idle moments mulling over where to go. The river! The town side of the river. “Haven’t taken any photos there with my new camera” sez he.
However, its now winter. And its early evening. Which means its dark outside. And there’s not much artificial lighting down by the river, either the town side or the Embankment side. Should really use a tripod.
But of course neither of us bothered to bring one. However, I do have the monopod in the backpack.
I have to confess, I’ve not had a great deal of success with the monopod in the past. Not that I’ve used it too much. Mainly because on the few occasions I have used it I’ve not had a great deal of success with it.
And the coupla times mate’s tried using it he’s not had much success with it either.
“Oh, it’ll be all right”, I declare optimistically. “We’ll manage”.
So with his shift ended off we trot, down to the town side of the river.
Both of us manage to take loads of pics. Of traffic crossing the town bridge. Of the bridge itself, beautifully illuminated by the blue spotlights. Of canoes on the river, manned by stalwarts from the local rowing club. Riverside lights and lights from the college towerblock reflected in the water. Darkening clouds. The eerily-lit pathway alongside the river. The moon rising over the Swan Hotel. Illuminated shop-fronts and building facades along the High Street,
Wonderful shots! Really beautiful captures!
Admittedly, reviewing them on our cameras’ LCDs it was quite obvious that some were a bit naff. But the majority of them looked really good.
Well, having satisfactorily filled the spare hour or so we hooked up with mate’s girlfriend and wandered over to the local supermarket for our weekly shopping expedition.
En route to which, and for the second week running, our eyes are drawn to the superbly illuminated “Big Top” and other tents of the circus that happens to be in town.
Its just gotta be done… after all, we may not get the chance again. So out come the cameras and click, click, click. Another batch of lovely night-time shots on the memory cards.
Once back home I’m eager to offload all the pics to the infernal machine and start developing.
Here we go then…
Yep. Some nice shots from the first part of the day, the Kempston session.
Yep. Some more nice shots from the second part of the day, the walk along the riverside.
Hmm. Nice shots from the third part of the day, in The Bear. Problem is, not enough of them.
Then there’s the fourth part of the day, the town side of the river at night etc. Probably the less said about those the better. But I just can’t restrain myself.
They’re ‘orrible. Crap. Sheer unadulterated rubbish! We really shoulda used a tripod.
Some useful additional things were discovered though. Or rather, things previously discovered that have now been confirmed.
First, that camera LCDs are not to be relied upon!
Second, that monopods are probably the most useless bit of photo kit that I’ve yet encountered! Maybe they’re not intended for use in the evening or at night. Maybe they’re meant simply for poor daytime lighting use. But far as I’m concerned they’re a complete waste of time.
But the real lesson, that I seem totally incapable of learning, is that this sort of night-time session absolutely demands a tripod. And no amount of optimism will change that.
So, as the nice men in white coats finally take me away to a place of safety where I can no longer beat mate around the head with a load of useless JPEGs, if you listen carefully you may hear the mad mumbling of “Shoulda used the tripod… shoulda used the tripod… shoulda used the tri…” [fading into distance]
As it happens I did end up with a couple of shots from that last evening part… which I may post to Flickr… if ever I recover from the insanity that seems to afflict me whenever I confront the “night-time + camera” equation.
A day of parts
November 13, 2008
Photowise Wednesday was definitely a day of parts. Quite distinct and separate parts, practically sufficient to qualify as completely different sessions. Good parts. More good parts. And… um… “other” parts.
So I decided to indulge myself and blog about each of the significant parts separately.
The day kicked off mid-morning with a little session I’ve had in mind for a coupla weeks. Entailing a visit to a town named Kempston.
Kempston, Bedfordshire. A town seemingly joined at the hip to the county town of Bedford. For the visitor it can be difficult to tell where one town ends and the other begins!
In fact, when I first came to the area I wasn’t at all certain that Kempston actually qualified as a town in its own right! But apparently it does.
The day started out quite bright and sunny but gradually moved toward being overcast, such that at times it seriously looked as though it’d start to rain. Which had an interesting effect on the light. Which in turn had an even more interesting effect on the resulting pics.
In fact, so dramatic was this effect that I became quite captivated by it, and fascinated by the differences it was making to the pics. Almost on a moment-by-moment basis.
Without more ado then, some of the pics from that part of Wednesday…
The complete Kempston set is on Flickr here.
Actually, I say “complete” set, but its by no means complete. Basically I just wandered along the main road through the town (which changes from Bedford Road into the High Street at one point) and then became distracted by a fascinating little lane leading off the High Street.
Oh, and I also spent some time mooching around the town’s principal “green area”, the Addison Howard Park.
But there remain one or two other locations in the town that seem worthy of further exploration so no doubt there’ll be additions to the set at some point in the future.
To be continued…
Bemused, bewildered, confused…
November 4, 2008
… and apparently losing my marbles. In fact, its probably about time I retired to some nice little cottage on the coast and spent my time sitting in a rocking chair knitting socks or something.
Here’s the sad tale of my evident decline into total senility…
Shortly after getting into this photography lark a mate of mine (the same mate that was responsible for me getting into it in the first place, damn his hide) recommended a particular bit of kit to me.
The “Lenspen” to be precise. A nifty little gadget shaped somewhat like one of those chunky felt tip pens. With a slidey-out brush at one end for flicking dust and other loose crap (fag ash springs to mind for some unaccountable reason) off the surface of lenses, and a little circular pad-type thingy at the other for the more stubborn smears. When not in use this pad thingy is covered by a cap on the inside of which resides a bit of sponge… that can be periodically moistened with a drop or two of lens cleaning solution I do believe.
Its a simple bit of kit, made of plastic. When I first bought one from my local Jessops it cost about seven quid… not really cheap, but not particularly exorbitant either.
And its proved to be almost indispensible. One of those sort of things that are so useful, and used so frequently, that one almost becomes unaware of using it. Until its not there of course!
And it had just about got to that stage (where it becomes indispensible) when I lost it!
I remember the occasion well. Way back in July it was. I’d gone on a little jaunt, to a stretch of Bedford’s river that I don’t normally visit, for one of my photo sessions.
Sat on the grass bank I decided to switch lenses for some long shots (which is why I remember the occasion so well, for changing lenses is something I try to avoid as much as possible) and, in a habit then well-established, reached for the Lenspen to clean the newly attached lens.
All well and good, and proceed with session.
Get back home, process the pics, and think no more about it.
Until I get ready for my next journey out. When (another habit I’ve developed) check all kit’s present and correct. Yep. It’s all there, all ready to go… apart from the Lenspen. Of which there’s no sign. So I try to recollect the last time I used it. Which of course was the session just related, remembered so vividly.
Dammit! I must have left it laying on the river bank, or perhaps it had fallen out onto the bank when I’d been packing the bag again.
Oh well. Just have to buy another one. Which in due course I did. And not a little miffed to discover the price had risen to nearly nine quid. “Hell, that’s a bit of a jump!” thinks I.
Anyway, brand new Lenspen so I’m back in fully operational mode again (surprising how lost I felt without it despite having all the normal lens cleaning stuff plus one of those little puffy brush things).
Another photo session a coupla months later (beginning of October to be precise), this one in the vicinity of Bedford town, to try out the newly-acquired Sigma lens.
Session completed, repair to my favourite haunt (The Bear pub) for some lunchtime refreshment.
Can’t be in The Bear of course without taking a few pics, so out comes the camera, off with the lens cap, out comes the Lenspen… or rather, not!
Its gone. Missing. Vanished. Bugger. Lost!
And I remembered when I’d last used it. Not 45 minutes previously. During the just-ended photo session in fact.
I also recollected that at the end of that session and before setting foot for The Bear I’d stopped to put my jacket in the rucksack, on account of getting a bit warm. And that I’d had a struggle getting it in.
So, I muse, after using it I must have put the Lenspen in a pocket of the jacket rather than returning it to its proper home in the camera bag (as I normally do) and, during the struggle to stuff the jacket into the rucksack it must have fallen out of the pocket.
Doubting myself somewhat, and disbelieving my bad luck, I thoroughly search all my pockets (including the jacket) and the camera bag. Yep. Lenspen gone.
But doubting also my ability to conduct any sort of proper search under such trying circumstances I get my mate at the pub to search my pockets and camera bag.
Yep. Lenspen definitely gone.
Oh damn and blast it. A quick toddle along to Jessops then for yet another Lenspen and another parting with a tenner (well, ok, a bit under).
Home that evening and transferring all my kit from the camera bag I’d used that day to another one, what do I discover in a twice-searched pocket of the bag? The “lost” Lenspen!
Ho hum. Well, at least now I’ve got a spare I s’pose.
Time passes.
Meanwhile, mate from the Bear, having been persuaded by me of the usefulness of Lenspens, and in anticipation of the arrival of his new camera, sets about searching on the Web for such a gadget in the hope of finding one cheaper than Jessops flog ‘em. And he does! A pair in fact. And cheaper than the price of one at Jessops.
Quick conference with me to find out if I’d like to go halves with him on the cost and have one of the pens as a spare. Of course I would! After all, a spare lenspen’s got to be useful in case I should lose the two I’ve now got (with me, anything’s possible).
More time passes.
Sat at the desk and need to plug in a bit of computer kit. Rummage around under the desk for the extension power block which, over time, has managed to get itself kicked under there, and what’s this I find nestling alongside it? A felt tip pen? No. Bringing it out into the cold light of day it reveals itself to be… a Lenspen! And, by a simple process of elimination, not just any Lenspen but the very first one I’d lost on the river bank. Couldn’t be any of the others cos they’re all present and accounted for.
Well, clearly I hadn’t actually lost it on the river bank; clearly, cos its here, in my grubby little paw.
So it must have quietly fallen out of my bag when I’d got back home and was checking my kit, and equally as quietly rolled under the desk.
Either that or my desk and its immediate surroundings are the equivalent of “the Luggage” in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels. I say that cos I’m reminded uncomfortably of the episode with the batteries.
So I’m now, and quite inadvertently, the proud possessor of not one, not two, not even three, but four lenspens! Almost enough to keep one permanently in every camera bag I’ve got!
A rainy day in Brighton
October 17, 2008
Lunchtime Tuesday last saw me jumping on a train to Brighton. Had to get to a meeting there early evening, preparing for a demo the following day.
Crashed with some like-minded types overnight then up bright and early Wednesday morning.
Well, that’s not strictly accurate… at least as far as being bright goes. For it wasn’t. Quite grey in fact. And wet.
I surfaced about 0730 and went out into the town in search of sustenance. Which I eventually found. By which time I’d realised that the weather didn’t bode well. It was that fine drizzly rain that seems fairly harmless… but spend any time in it at all and before too long you’re soaked to the skin. Great. And it looked like it was settled in for the day (which turned out to be pretty much the case, finally petering out about mid-afternoon).
So this was going to be a first for me… shooting pics of a protest in the rain.
Well, the Canon with the long lens was out for a start, neither lens or camera being in the least weather-resistant. All down to the GX10 then. At least that’s weather-resistant… though not the lens. So I rigged up some sort of protective covering consisting of a plastic bag with a hole punched in the end and a couple of hair bands to secure it at each end.
Seemed to work ok, though I won’t really know ’til I get to use the lens again I s’pose. I’ll be really narked if the lens is ruined though cos its the new Sigma I was using.
Anyway, what I ended up with is a batch of some of the horriblest (horriblest? Surely that can’t be a proper word?) protest pics I’ve ever taken.
In a couple of senses.
Firstly, the event itself was pretty horrible in that it was yet another demonstration of the increasingly heavy-handed policing that seems to have become the norm nowadays.
I don’t want to get too deeply into that here though. After all, this is supposed to be a sort of photoblog rather than an “issues” one, so no doubt I’ll post about this aspect elsewhere. When I finally get the time, that is.
More to the point, the pics themselves are nearly all a bit naff. Dunno whether that was down to the “protective sheath” (hmm… interesting phrase I’ve used there!) I’d cobbled together for the lens, or the weather, or maybe a combination of both. The main problem area seems to be focus… or rather, lack of it. Maybe the plastic was getting in the way of the mechanism a bit. Or maybe the rain was throwing the autofocus off a tad. Oh well. That’s another lesson learned.
The only positive side to this, far as I can see, is that the crappiness of the pics gives them a sort of raw (no pun intended), real-time, “as it happens” sort of feel. Maybe. And of course the blurriness helps to conveniently obscure some of the faces.
Towards the very end of the day, when a few intrepid protesters had established themselves near Brighton Pier, I was at last able to get the Canon and long lens out for a few shots, but by that time the light was already beginning to fade.
Anyway, the event was the “Shut ITT” demo in Brighton, targeting once again the American-owned armaments manufacturer EDO. Background to the event can be found at www.smashedo.org.uk and the full set of pics are here.
Proof that I’m an idiot! (aka “Compulsory Walkabout”)
October 8, 2008
Tuesday past was a rainy day. Quite heavily at times in fact.
“Great” thinks I. “I’ll have a wander into town and get some super shots of rain p***ing down. Deserted town centre. Shop lights reflecting off the pavements. Bedraggled shoppers with umbrellas bowed against the weather. Ooh, wonderful!”
Huh. Fat chance. Get into town and not a sign of a raindrop! Bit overcast maybe, but that’s about it.
So wander disconsolately along by the river a stretch and grab a handful of pics, but nothing truly inspiring. Been there, done it, got the tee-shirt sorta thing.
Aha… a car park by the river. Now there’s somewhere I haven’t explored. But even here options were limited, dictated by my instinctive aversion to having car number plates visible in my pics (that’s another long story!). And of course, whaddya find in car parks? Yep. Cars. What a surprise! I did however manage to get a couple of shots of the approach to the car park. Wow!
Ever onwards though, so stroll despondently into the town centre, mood lightened slightly by some ok shots of what’s said to be the tallest building in the town.
And inevitably end up at The Bear of course (or “Stalag Bear” as I now think of it, courtesy of a mate dubbing it such).
But photo-wise? Well, short of new developments at that worthy (?) establishment I’ve just about exhausted all the standard possibilities thereat.
“Just about” isn’t the same as “definitely” though… cos I discovered some rather fascinating brickwork to shoot.
(Hmm. I really oughta get a life methinks.)
In fact, so despondent had I become that I didn’t even feel inclined to hang around there until my mate (a different one, that is… yep, I’ve got more than one!) had finished his shift… plus I didn’t want to be stuck on the bus home with a load of noisy schoolkids. And it was fast approaching the time for kids to leave school for the day.
So jump on a homeward-bound bus. And sit there mulling. And mulling. And reflecting. And thinking. And ever so slowly (a bit like paint drying in fact) a rather disturbing thought occurs to me.
I’d set out this morning with the intention of collecting some “rain shots”. And I’d dressed accordingly. Part of which routine was to don a pair of “wet weather trousers”. And I distinctly remember reminding myself to transfer everything from my normal ones to the “wet weather” ones.
Yep. I definitely remember reminding myself to do that. No doubt about it.
And I did. Everything. Everything, that is, apart from my keyring! Which, as I now recollect sat on the bus homeward, is still affixed to my “normal” trousers courtesy of the key chain attached to the belt thereon.
And my door key happens to be on that keyring!
Umm… with a nasty sinking feeling I realise that means I won’t actually be able to get inside once I do get home.
Oh bugger!
But all is not totally lost. For, with remarkable prescience, I’d entrusted a duplicate key to my next-door neighbour. Clearly in anticipation of just such an occurrence. (Actually that’s a load of old cobblers. In reality she’s got a key for a different reason entirely… but we don’t need to go into that here!)
So all I had to do was wait for her to return from work and bingo! I’m laughing!
Snag is, I wasn’t too sure what time she was due to return on that particular day… or even in fact if she’d made other arrangements for the evening and wouldn’t return until late.
Dammit!
Quick revision of all my plans then and decide that it might be a good idea (opportunist… that’s me!) to have a little walkabout southward of the village and see if there’s anything worth snapping… for a couple of hours at least.
Now there used to be a saying that “every cloud has a silver lining”. And it was during this compulsory walkabout (hell, what other choice did I have?) that I discovered the silver lining to this particular cloud. In a very literal sense.
For I managed to grab what I think are some really nice “cloud shots”. In fact, in my opinion, they’re probably the best shots of the day.
But with light failing fast and neighbour still not home I was in a bit of a quandary. Then a cunning plan gradually coalesced in my excuse for a mind…
Repair to the local hostelry (a place I practically never frequent… in fact, I’ve only been in there once before during all the time I’ve lived in the village) and console myself with a pint or three of the best whilst awaiting her return.
The consequence of which, of course, was that when she eventually did arrive back I was almost not in a respectable state to go knocking on her door!
One day perhaps I’ll stop being an idiot and actually get my act together.
