I'm sort of fascinated with thephoblographer.com at the moment, Chris Gampat's PetaPixel-ish blog. One of his features is that he finds "Deals" for photographers, and one of those "deals" was "75 email templates, normally $129.99, today, $19.99".
Evidently they cover everything a professional photographer might need. How to tell the client that the shoot didn't work out, and you need to schedule a re-shoot. I suppose there are templates for "I lost your files" and "my dog ate my camera" and so on as well?
This, I suppose, has nothing to do with the photography business, but I cannot see how this can possibly work out. Using these things, the scenarios in which the wheels fall off your charade seem so numerous as to be inevitable.
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Friday, June 3, 2016
Moss Landing II
There seem to actually be four pictures, if I put my mind to it. There were a bunch more, but they were either things I am in love with which are not Moss Landing particularly, or they were redundant.
No idea if it reads, but I was definitely thinking Gursky and Emerson while I was shooting.
Maybe the vignettes are too heavy handed. Vignettes always look awful in the thumbnails, though, if they're even visible in the full size. Click 'em.
No idea if it reads, but I was definitely thinking Gursky and Emerson while I was shooting.
Maybe the vignettes are too heavy handed. Vignettes always look awful in the thumbnails, though, if they're even visible in the full size. Click 'em.
Thursday, June 2, 2016
A Note
On my occasional "credit where credit is due" theme, I want to remark that Alain Briot, about whom I have said many unkind things none of which I take back, is writing a very nice series on projects over on LuLa. I like them so much that I'm working on turning his "mini-project" concept into an exercise which I will execute, report on, and describe in detail soonish. There's nothing earth shaking, yet, in Alain's pieces but it's good material reasonably well laid out.
In the mean time, while you wait for my golden words of wisdom, go look yourself if you have a subscription. It's one of those bits that's easily worth the monthly dollar, and might even be worth the $12 for a year! All by itself!
Look at me, plugging LuLa. The world may end shortly.
In the mean time, while you wait for my golden words of wisdom, go look yourself if you have a subscription. It's one of those bits that's easily worth the monthly dollar, and might even be worth the $12 for a year! All by itself!
Look at me, plugging LuLa. The world may end shortly.
Shootin' Stock
My wife, after many years of doing financial planning under the aegis of other firms, has gotten around to starting her own practice (* see below for details) and I am assisting in small ways with a little marketing support, occasional errands, and shooting "stock" photos for her weekly blog posts. She writes about things like how best to save for college, what to do with a not-very-good 401(k) plan, stuff like that. Things her target market might find interesting.
So I've been shooting pictures to illustrate each blog post's idea. The pictures function, perhaps, like a subtitle, a repetition of the theme in other words. It's a lot like Art with a capital A, interestingly. There's a very clear concept, and you get one picture to illustrate it. There's also branding/corporate identity to consider, so I try to make the pictures a little "fun", and to hit the corporate colors.
My wife's financial planning practice is targeted at Moms in High Tech (in the USA), a specific niche with a pretty specific set of needs. If you're a Mom in High Tech, or a Parent with job that has weird compensation models, or a Woman in High Tech, you might find my wife's services and service model useful. Drop me a note at amolitor@gmail.com if so, I'll introduce you. She is way nicer than I am.
So I've been shooting pictures to illustrate each blog post's idea. The pictures function, perhaps, like a subtitle, a repetition of the theme in other words. It's a lot like Art with a capital A, interestingly. There's a very clear concept, and you get one picture to illustrate it. There's also branding/corporate identity to consider, so I try to make the pictures a little "fun", and to hit the corporate colors.
My wife's financial planning practice is targeted at Moms in High Tech (in the USA), a specific niche with a pretty specific set of needs. If you're a Mom in High Tech, or a Parent with job that has weird compensation models, or a Woman in High Tech, you might find my wife's services and service model useful. Drop me a note at amolitor@gmail.com if so, I'll introduce you. She is way nicer than I am.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
So What Shall I Do?
Some smartasses have proposed that perhaps I could quit being unkind to other bloggers and commentators. Consider this remark from Mr. Thein's blog:
which is, well, it's just a wrong statement. There's plenty of monochrome landscape being shot today that looks nothing like Ansel Adams.
I can comment on Mr. Thein's blog to offer some correction, you suggest? No, actually I cannot. Mr. Thein does not accept correction from me, as far as I can make out regardless of how polite I am. I suppose I could try swearing at him, but I am dubious. ETA: Apparently I made it past a round of moderation after all. Perhaps I shall commence remarking on his blog again, in lieu of remarking here. Wait and see, I guess!
I could let it slide, I suppose. Is that the right answer? Should influential bloggers simply be allowed to say whatever they like without challenge? Or do I need to be a more influential writer before I am permitted to correct The Mighty? What?
I suppose I could just kindly and generously correct the misconception, without suggesting that Mr. Thein is either ignorant or wilfully ignoring reality in order to promote his preferred world view in which he is a lone visionary beset on all sides by cruel commenters, fools, and fauxtographers. Is there a point at which I might offer such an observation, and if so can you give me a rough estimate of how many thousands of "tells" must appear before I might offer such a cruel suggestion?
Let me just say, then: Sally Mann, Sebastio Salgado, Hiroshi Sugimoto, and leave it at that.
I was having a discussion about the presentation of landscape and color use the other day with one of my students – which in turn got me thinking about why we see so few modern landscapes that work in monochrome, typically unless the shooter is trying to imitate Ansel.
which is, well, it's just a wrong statement. There's plenty of monochrome landscape being shot today that looks nothing like Ansel Adams.
I can comment on Mr. Thein's blog to offer some correction, you suggest? No, actually I cannot. Mr. Thein does not accept correction from me, as far as I can make out regardless of how polite I am. I suppose I could try swearing at him, but I am dubious. ETA: Apparently I made it past a round of moderation after all. Perhaps I shall commence remarking on his blog again, in lieu of remarking here. Wait and see, I guess!
I could let it slide, I suppose. Is that the right answer? Should influential bloggers simply be allowed to say whatever they like without challenge? Or do I need to be a more influential writer before I am permitted to correct The Mighty? What?
I suppose I could just kindly and generously correct the misconception, without suggesting that Mr. Thein is either ignorant or wilfully ignoring reality in order to promote his preferred world view in which he is a lone visionary beset on all sides by cruel commenters, fools, and fauxtographers. Is there a point at which I might offer such an observation, and if so can you give me a rough estimate of how many thousands of "tells" must appear before I might offer such a cruel suggestion?
Let me just say, then: Sally Mann, Sebastio Salgado, Hiroshi Sugimoto, and leave it at that.
McCurry
Mike over at ToP has the definitive commentary. As usual. He'll never waste your time, and frequently he's the only voice that matters. You've already read it, because you read ToP before you come here, don't you? Don't you? If not, why not?!!
Moss Landing
I've spent, in the last decade, a total of at least several weeks in Moss Landing, CA. My wife has an aunt there. It occupies a quite clear visual space in my mind. It's misty, rolling, farmland. Now, that's my concept of Moss Landing and, obviously, there is much more there. There's a fishing fleet, beaches, and so on.
But to me, it's mostly just one picture. There are a handful of (to me) iconic objects that definitely say "Moss Landing", a power plant and the general idea of a derelict boat.
Hawaii is too wide, contains too many distinctly Hawaiian facets, for me to express a coherent view of with photographs. Moss Landing is too narrow. One picture isn't going to work for communicating my idea, to you, to anyone, it's a single fairly boring picture. I could make 5 or 20 or 100 of these things, and you'd probably grasp the idea that Molitor sees Moss Landing as this specific thing, but I don't think you'd be able to feel anything of what I feel. It would just be a boring picture of light gray above, a curved horizon line, and a dark grey below. Ho hum. This could be anywhere.
I could throw in a bunch of breadth and show you boats and migrant workers and windswept beaches. You'd get a strong sense of California from the migrant workers in the fields, most likely. You'd see the beach, the fishing boats, the sailboats, you'd get Coastal. I could probably communicate Central California Coast pretty clearly by chucking in a few wind-gnarled trees clinging to rocks high above the surf. But that's not my vision of Moss Landing, particularly. That would be, perhaps, an interesting set of documentary pictures, but it would not be My Moss Landing. I took a bunch of frames and you'll probably see a few of them shortly.
Anyways, let's think about this a bit.
I can go someplace and duplicate iconic imagery from that place, the more or less universal pictures that most of the western world, or whatever our world is, treat as definitive. I can return with a photo essay that is instantly recognizable Paris or Antarctica and Iceland, and loads of people do exactly that. It seems to be a fun thing to do.
These are not personal, and without that personal input, they say nothing, they mean nothing, they are weightless. They say only that you have mastered some equipment, some tropes, and were perhaps shepherded about by someone who knows what the iconic shots are.
When you copy work in this fashion, you might be saying great and important things, but you're merely mouthing the words. Reciting Shakespeare does not make you a poet, although it's a bunch of fun. Reciting William McGonagall is probably even more fun, and moves you slightly further away from being a poet.
Once you step away from the icons, then you can start to shoot what you see. Weston and his strongest way of seeing and so on. All the important photographers who deigned to write anything down say pretty much the same thing. Once you start to see, you can branch out, if you like, in to imagining what might have been, or what ought to be, rather than what is. You needn't be literal, or even truthful.
But you've got to stop reciting poetry. You've got to clear your head and bide a while in the silence.
But to me, it's mostly just one picture. There are a handful of (to me) iconic objects that definitely say "Moss Landing", a power plant and the general idea of a derelict boat.
Hawaii is too wide, contains too many distinctly Hawaiian facets, for me to express a coherent view of with photographs. Moss Landing is too narrow. One picture isn't going to work for communicating my idea, to you, to anyone, it's a single fairly boring picture. I could make 5 or 20 or 100 of these things, and you'd probably grasp the idea that Molitor sees Moss Landing as this specific thing, but I don't think you'd be able to feel anything of what I feel. It would just be a boring picture of light gray above, a curved horizon line, and a dark grey below. Ho hum. This could be anywhere.
I could throw in a bunch of breadth and show you boats and migrant workers and windswept beaches. You'd get a strong sense of California from the migrant workers in the fields, most likely. You'd see the beach, the fishing boats, the sailboats, you'd get Coastal. I could probably communicate Central California Coast pretty clearly by chucking in a few wind-gnarled trees clinging to rocks high above the surf. But that's not my vision of Moss Landing, particularly. That would be, perhaps, an interesting set of documentary pictures, but it would not be My Moss Landing. I took a bunch of frames and you'll probably see a few of them shortly.
Anyways, let's think about this a bit.
I can go someplace and duplicate iconic imagery from that place, the more or less universal pictures that most of the western world, or whatever our world is, treat as definitive. I can return with a photo essay that is instantly recognizable Paris or Antarctica and Iceland, and loads of people do exactly that. It seems to be a fun thing to do.
These are not personal, and without that personal input, they say nothing, they mean nothing, they are weightless. They say only that you have mastered some equipment, some tropes, and were perhaps shepherded about by someone who knows what the iconic shots are.
When you copy work in this fashion, you might be saying great and important things, but you're merely mouthing the words. Reciting Shakespeare does not make you a poet, although it's a bunch of fun. Reciting William McGonagall is probably even more fun, and moves you slightly further away from being a poet.
Once you step away from the icons, then you can start to shoot what you see. Weston and his strongest way of seeing and so on. All the important photographers who deigned to write anything down say pretty much the same thing. Once you start to see, you can branch out, if you like, in to imagining what might have been, or what ought to be, rather than what is. You needn't be literal, or even truthful.
But you've got to stop reciting poetry. You've got to clear your head and bide a while in the silence.
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