Card-Carrying Papyrophobe

Son of the Bride of 'Reintarnation'

2012-01-13T10:36:00.001-05:00

I thought I posted these a long time ago. Um, I was wrong.
Thanks to all participants!
-Jeremy

fratulence (n) odour, often rank, emanating from a large dwelling occupied by men aged 18-22.
-Ken Murray

incomsistent (-adj) lacking good cell phone coverage
plotsam (-n) load of books floating in the water
casserolo (-n) dish consisting of combination of chocolate treats
gallivent (-v) to run around freely complaining
-David Henderson

cointing: the process of slowing down a line at a retail store by paying with exact change.
agreenment: consensus on which activities are deemed 'good for the environment'.-Wendy Macpherson

bittersweat: perspiration that you know isn't actually reducing your weight in any long term manner‬
-Charlie T. via Wendy

spilunker‬:‪ a) one who spills your beer regularly by bumping the table underneath with his knee‬
‪ b) one who spills your beer by getting underneath patio tables and trying to make them more stable by using sugar packets and broken coasters under the table feet, in fact making the table less stable,
see Douchasaurus Rex‬
-CorinaS. via Wendy

non sequiturl: a forwarded link that has nothing to do with email it was sent in response to.
vacilities: found in any large organization, this department is responsible wavering and indecision
backteria: filth that accumulates on that spot you just can't quite reach in the shower.

commutity: a collection of identical suburban dwellings on small clear-cut lots, connected by a network of streets named after trees.
-John Rose

preboot: (n.) a remake that discards all canon from a series that hasn't even been created yet.
tilapidated: The condition of fish that has been clumsily scraped from a baking sheet.
abjective (n.) an extremely unpleasant describing word.
portfoolio: (n.) 1. a pilfered collection of images, designed to improve your photography. 2. a legitimate collection of original art that proves your utter lack of skill
pantioxidant: (n.) chemical in certain dark vegetables that releases inhibitions in a vegan.
savant garde: (adj.) experimental or innovative art that—uh oh... fifteen minutes to Wapner!
-ed.

Ten tips for better photos.

2011-07-25T15:31:00.002-04:00

(for beginners)

I get asked once in a while for beginner tips, so here's my advice...

90% of the reason to trade up to an SLR (that you can afford) is eliminating shutter lag. If you have kids, it will save you from an aneurysm.
A kit lens is all you need, but consider buying a prime lens like the 50mm f/1.8. It's cheap and great for low-light and nice bokeh.
Feel free to go auto-everything for a little while, the embrace Aperture Priority (with +/- compensation).
Fill the frame with your main subject, but don't "bullseye" a person's face.
When in doubt... use the rule of thirds for composition.
If you can afford it, get Lightroom. It fixes lots of photos fast and is great for archiving.
You can find some great shooting and editing tips on YouTube. There's tons of idiots out there, so find someone who isn't a knob and stick with them.
Look at lots of photos for inspiration—especially bad ones.
The more often you shoot, the more mistakes you will make. That's a good thing.
Ask for help and constructive criticism from people who's opinion you care about. Ignore everybody else.

P.S. You want to take photos of your cat? Take photos of your cat!

Priceless things I learned from a Groupon photographer...

2011-07-18T15:52:00.023-04:00

There are no bad photos. Only funny stories.

~~On a whim~~ As a carefully thought-out experiment, I decided to hire a family photographer through one of those coupon sites. I had received an email from TeamBuy for the day's bargain—a cheap portrait session. And it just so happened that my wife had been bugging me for a new family pic, so I decided to check it out.

(The truth is, I wanted just one batch of family photos that didn't involve me running back and forth to my tripod like an NFL linesman. Also, I generally prefer shallow focus, and have had less than stellar luck with remotes and timers at f/2.)

His portfolio looked good, so I called him. Nice guy. Sounded professional, too.

So I pulled the trigger and booked a date and a location in Etobicoke.

With two months to wait, I started looking forward to seeing things from the other side of the lens... walking in a client's shoes, so that I might improve my own practices. Hell, if it worked out, I might just work on my own Groupon!

And if the photos sucked? No harm done. I often find bad photography more instructional than good photography (in the same way that crappy TIFF films used to inspire me when I was in film school.)

[Spoiler alert: anyone who discounts a portrait session from $800 to $79 is doing so for a good reason.]

To make a long story short, the photos were—I'm going to be charitable here—usable. The lessons I learned, however, were pure gold.

Ten-point memo to all photogs, from the perspective of a client:

Communicate. I don't care how busy you are, get back to me within a day when I call or email you.
Bring all the gear you'll need. (Note: I did not say, "Bring all your gear".) If you have to run back to the car for fifteen minutes, to retrieve yet another trunk of shit, you've given me solid reason to hate you.
Don't go all Strobist for the sake of going Strobist. If you have good available light on a casual shoot, run with it.
Don't make me wait twenty minutes between setups while you mess with your kit. Most families have a short posing window.
For the love of Pete, do not make me squint into the sun.
Direct the shoot. Don't count on me having a shot list or a bunch of posing ideas. The ball's in your court, McEnroe.
When the shoot's over, a quick email thanking me for my business is probably a good idea. It takes 20 seconds.
Do not make me chase you for my proofs.
If your massive discount does not entitle me to a beautified image, that's totally cool; just keep in mind that this muddy, unprocessed snapshot now represents your best work.
Word of mouth works two ways.

So, there you go.

You get what you pay for? Yep. Will I be doing a Groupon in the future? Not a chance. Will that shoot be at the very front of my mind every time I pick up a camera in front of a paying client?

You bet your butt.

The hack guide to street photography...

2011-06-09T15:18:00.001-04:00

...or, "Things I feel compelled to shoot, that have been done to death by more talented photogs."

Anybody with an umbrella.
Homeless guy (humorous signs only, please).
Kid with ice cream cone.
Hippy on vintage bicycle.
Vegetables at a market.
Asian woman in Chinatown (especially one who seems to hate you).
Any graffiti.
Construction guy with hardhat and cigarette.
Really, really old white guy (particularly awesome, since they can't chase and beat you).
Colourful door in otherwise dreary neighbourhood.
Small dog being carried in bike basket.

Note: the depth of a street photo is doubled by converting to black & white, and quadrupled by the use of actual film. Employing an f/1.2 lens (or lower) will result in weapons-grade art.

Whatever it takes.

2011-06-08T14:37:00.010-04:00

I gave out a business card the other day which had the above image on it. (My stash of cards is comprised of 50 different shots.) I got a nice complement, and the guy asked how I took it. I could have told him, but I didn't.

I rented a limo, so I could shoot out the sunroof while the driver cruised around downtown. I found the perfect angle on University Ave., so he parked for a minute while I spot-metered the neon sign on top of the Sheraton, I compensated one-third stop under, and we started circling the block. The fifth time around, I got a nice shot just as a car full of frat boys passed us on the left.

Actually that's not quite true, The camera was clamped on my Hyundai's roof rack, automatically shooting a frame every two seconds, for about 45 minutes. That gave me about 1300 frames to choose from... And all I had to do was drive around and listen to Miles Davis.

(Admittedly, I shot this sequence for a time lapse video, but I noticed this particular frame in After Effects. Perfect. I'll take it.)

So, who cares how a photo is shot, anyway?

Well, seemingly everybody, if you read enough. 'Spray and pray', for example, gets a pretty bad rap from a lot of photogs. Admittedly, it's no way to learn the craft, but every now and then you gotta gun that thing and hope for the best. Can you fix it in Lightroom? Probably.

Jay Maisel brackets his street photos in three-shot bursts, so at least one is correctly exposed. Great idea. I'm guessing if the perfect frame happens to be one that isn't 'correctly' exposed, he just picks it anyway. 'Spray and pray'? Yeah, I guess... If that's what it takes.

Say you're shooting a wedding. What are you going to do when the groom leans in for the kiss... wait for the exact, perfect moment and snipe one? Sure, if that's the way you roll. But I'll be the guy on full-auto, with a fast shutter speed, even if it means my ISO is jacked up to the moon. That way I can freeze the moment... whenever that happens. I'll save contemplation for the other, less-fleeting opportunities.

"Don't do it that way!"

Do you notice people like to say don't a lot—especially online? "Don't go over 3200. Don't use zooms. Don't look at your LCD. Don't use tripods." There's a whole whack of don't at Ken Rockwell's site and Luminous Landscape. Do you take it seriously?

Don't.

*****

On a related note...

About six weeks ago, I mixed together a couple hundred seed bombs for fun. (A seed bomb is a dried-out ball of clay, flower seeds and compost. They are dropped mercilessly on inaccesible, unsightly property; with the intent to beautify.) I had never made any before, and I have no idea if I did it right, but the kids and I chucked these things all over a fenced-off vacant lot near our house in Etobicoke.

Talk about spray and pray. We weren't doing it the 'right' way, we couldn't stay for long, and we weren't even allowed there.

Like the hundreds of photos taken on a wedding shoot, the majority of those flowers won't take, but I desperately hope some of them do... I want my kids to see that we make our own magic, our own beauty. That we do whatever it takes.

Because if even one person looks in at that miserable lot and says to themselves, "I wonder who the heck snuck in there and planted all those amazing flowers," then it was worth it.

And... with any luck, I can set up my tripod some time in August and take a very deliberate set of photos.

Here's hoping.

Ah-ha Moments, Vol. 3

2011-06-01T12:33:00.001-04:00

INT: our apartment,  early evening, circa 2001.

Me (watching CNN news-crawl): Wow! Looks like L.A. is in for a major hurricane tomorrow.

Michelle (glances at screen): "LA" means Louisiana, doofus.

Me: Ah-ha.

(end scene)

Universal translator: Photographer's edition

2011-05-27T15:00:00.001-04:00

I usually want to choke someone when I hear the following: poseur lingo, weapons-grade gear lust, and outright lies... but of course, I protest too much.

Volume 1: Photographer-to-photographer translation

"Nice! What lens did you shoot that with?"

("You add bokeh in Photoshop, don't you, you prick.")

"What do you think of my portfolio?"

("My site sucks. Care to confirm that?")

"Yeah, I only use prime lenses. There's no comparison."

("I desperately want a 70-200 VRII, but can't afford it.")

"Nikon (Canon) is clearly superior to Canon (Nikon)"

("I couldn't tell the difference between a Lomo and a Hasselblad.")

"You can't beat Pocket Wizards for dependability."

("I can't believe I actually dropped $400 on these things.")

"I prefer shooting available light."

("There's no way I'm dropping $400 on Pocket Wizards.")

"My f/1.2 is just in a whole other league from the f/1.4—you can't go back."

("Dammit, I should have bought a Smart Car instead.")

"I read Esquire for the photography."

("Did you know Megan Fox has a tattoo underneath her tongue?")

"I watch America's Next Top Model if my wife puts it on, but it's just for the photo shoots."

("Omigod, Molly got totally screwed. What were they thinking!")

"I always nail it in-camera. I don't like to use much post."

("Clarity? 85... Vibrance? 60... Vignetting? all the way, then back it off a notch.")

"... and then I used twenty-five SB-900s to fill in the USS Nimitz in the background."

("Hi, my name's Joe. It's nice to meet you.")

One for the books.

2011-05-19T14:54:00.004-04:00

I have a habit of forgetting stuff, so the blog is a nice way for me to catalog stories that I think are worth preserving... provided I remember to do so.

This story has nothing to do with anything, but I absolutely can't bear the thought of ever forgetting it.
JS

INT.   No Frills  -- SUMMER -- A fairly dead Saturday afternoon.

I am at the checkout, glancing at tabloid covers, while the seventeen-year-old cashier — let's call her Betsy — is turned away from me, chatting with her friend who's at the helm of cash 3. I'm a little spaced out, and not in a big hurry, so I let them gossip about their Saturday night plans.

While deliberately trying not to stare at the cleavage on the cover of Us magazine, I catch a surprising fact...

"She's such a slut."

Say what? I look up and notice that Betsy is now ringing in my groceries.

"Who's a slut?" I inquire enthusiastically; hoping to get the low-down on Ms. Lopez, Aniston, or whoever the waif-du-jour is.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Betsy glances back at her friend, and in a sheepish voice says...

"Um... Stacey."

No further questions, your honour.

Ah-ha moments, Vol. 2

2011-05-18T14:17:00.008-04:00

I was seventeen. I had been shooting on an SLR for about a year (a Praktica MTL-3, if you're curious). It was a perfect starter—from K-Mart!—that was equipped with a 50mm prime.

I think it was a 1.8, but whatever its maximum aperture, that's all I shot at. Not because I was addicted to shallow DOF or anything, but because—unbeknownst to me—that was the only position at which the iris rested.

Totally ignorant, I shot this way for about a year; always twisting the aperture ring back and forth, trying to understand why the light-meter never responded to my input. It was like flicking that light switch in the hall that does nothing.

(I think I assumed that the meter was broken, or that in photography, aperture had way less effect on exposure than I was led to believe. What did I know? Only one of my friends had an SLR, and I sure as hell wasn't going to reveal my colossal stupidity to him.)

Anyway, I got some nice images, and just rolled with it.

I started reading a lot more about photography, and one day said to myself, "Seriously, what the &^%$?" I unscrewed the lens with the tip of a steak knife, and tried to figure out what was going on in there. Well, something had obviously come loose, and with zero tool skills to rely on, I rubber-cemented the iris leaves to the most likely thingamabob.

Jesus wept.

Anyway, as you may have guessed, that fixed nothing, but it somehow didn't hurt the lens, either. I kept shooting, and moved on to a Chinon CE-4 in 1988, where I re-discovered the magical world of actual iris adjustment.

Ah-ha!

Epilogue: the Practica was stolen—along with my Nikon 601 and a bunch of other gear—a few years ago, and no doubt, some guy out there is wondering who the f*ck rubber-cemented his 50 mill.

Choke on it, sucka!

Tattoo You

2011-05-17T13:43:00.002-04:00

Tattoo You, originally uploaded by jeremysalejr.

The nicest tough guy an art student could ever meet.

How to win a juried art show.

2011-05-16T14:06:00.027-04:00

Now THAT is art.

I co-juried an art show on Saturday, and man... talk about a learning experience. I should have paid them.

My first thought upon reviewing the entries was immediate: "I am so glad I am not competing with these guys." Holy smokes, what a lot of talent our neighbourhood has.

There was also a pleasing assortment of, how shall I put this... not so great art on display. But you know what? That, too, was impressive. You know why?

They got off their asses and submitted.

So here's what I learned after sifting through roughly 165 entries. If you disagree, please help yourself:

Photography has to be really, really good to beat classic media. A photo is relatively easy to take, so there has to be evidence of thought, toil, and a mastery of the craft. No blown highlights, no sharpening edges within an inch of their life and no hack filters. As a photographer, I found it easy to dismiss any photo which was merely "good".
Bigger is better. If your art kicks some ass, it might as well wear a big boot. As a juror, it's harder to be dismissive of a large work, because you're forced to take it seriously. (Also, they're harder to move back to the loading dock.) Note: big and crappy is just crappy.
Do something difficult. A statue made from the melted-down syringes of your bout with tuberculosis in Cambodia is way more interesting than any watercolour. It shows imagination, and implies depth of character.
If you're selling it, price it realistically. Lowballing shows that you're insecure, ridiculously high shows you're not taking it seriously. This effects its evaluation.
For the love of Godard, don't try to look sophisticated if you aren't. You like bullfighters on velvet, paint bullfighters on velvet.
Choose a political message at your own risk. We're not all hippies, you know.
Pick a colour palette, Rainbow Brite. And stick to it.
Smudged paint? Ripped print? Like a typo on a resume, that's insta-trash.
Pony up for good framing and mattes. Your Zellers frame looks like a Zellers frame.
If your signature looks like it was made by Stephen Hawking, get someone else to do it. (This is one of my big weaknesses, by the way—my signature hasn't changed since grade 3.)
People know restaurant art when they see it. So do jurors.
Keep your style consistent. If you submit a photo-realistic landscape plus a Modigliani ~~rip-off~~ homage, we can't label you. Hmm... maybe that's not a bad thing.
Trust your gut, but be able to defend your decisions. Don't try to make a "contest winner", because it shows. Make what you're good at, and don't lie to your audience.
You know why nudity works? Because jurors don't want to look like prudes.
Above all other advice... Submit more than one entry! It is very difficult for a jury to dismiss two (or three) pieces from the same artist. In my case, I tended to favour the stronger of two good submissions and leave it at that. Fair? Not really.

I could tell—we all could tell—which pieces were taken seriously during their creation and which weren't; which were slapped together, which were lovingly crafted, and which were over-thought, over-worked, and over-brushed.

I'm so glad I got the chance to do this. Being on the 'other side' is a terrific reality-check for evaluating the merit of your own art.

And, apparently, I still have a lot of work to do.

From your cold, dead hands...

2011-05-04T12:24:00.000-04:00

Many photobloggers love to hate the following:

tilt-shift and faux tilt-shift
f/1.4 and f/1.2 lenses
ringlight
Lighroom/Photoshop vignetting
texture overlays
the clarity slider
HDR

You know what? Who cares. If that's your bag, use it until the wheels come off. Personally, I love all of those things (minus most HDR.)

Here's the bottom line: Client trumps blogger. End of story. Your client is the right bower, her husband is the left bower. You are the ace.

That blogger who hates everything? He's an off-suit nine on a good day.

Funny joke from an otherwise unremarkable comedian, Vol. 2

2011-05-02T10:05:00.000-04:00

"If Sunny D is so fucking good, why is it always in the back of the fridge?"

-unknown amateur, Laugh Resort, circa 2003

Funny joke from an otherwise unremarkable comedian, Vol. 1

2011-05-02T09:43:00.002-04:00

"So I'm in HMV the other day, and you know those stations where you can listen to whatever CD you want? I see this guy there, and he's listening to John Tesh (pause) Sorry, that's the joke."

Bravo, sir.

I can't, for the life of me, remember who said this; but he was an amateur around the same time I was attempting to be funny at The Laugh Resort in Toronto. (I can guarantee that I remember more jokes of his than he can of mine.)

Flashbus: The good and the bad.

2011-04-12T10:23:00.006-04:00

Not since DeNiro and Pacino...

Let's cut right to it. The coolest thing I learned at the Flashbus tour in Buffalo last Sunday was how David Hobby lit this photo. (I'm not sure that I'm allowed to show his work here, so I'll err on the side of caution.)

Answer: he threw some fishing line over a rafter, tied it to a $6 Japanese lantern globe, and stuffed an SB-800 into the globe. Heave ho. Don't know about the sync, but I'm guessing he avoided changing power locally.

Very cool.

David Hobby and Joe McNally were both great. They were accessible and fun, and knew their audience well. Ostensibly it was a battle between Manual and TTL flash, but it was really just an exploration of what to use and when to use it.

What I liked...

They were funny. I'll go to a convention on Post-It adhesive if the guy can lay down a few zingers.
They made mistakes. I love to see that pros can screw up, too. Who cares?
There was good swag.
Hobby: 99% of the world couldn't care less about "catch lights" or (gasp!) bokeh. Damn. He's right.
Watching McNally evolve a snapshot into a magazine-worthy double-truck.
Photoshop? As Mr. Hobby said, "Kelby's class is down the hall."
I somehow defied the odds and bought absolutely nothing from Adorama's drool-table.

What I didn't like...

Too many questions allowed in medias res. This broke the flow of many good tutorials.
Attendees who wasted time with 'user-manual' queries that could be looked up on an iPhone.
My crap seat near the back. (Re: Snoozers v. Losers)
The huge, mucous-ridden guy behind me, who hacked out 190 dB cackles every time an in-joke was cracked. (He was beside the two guys who whispered to each other for, umm... five hours.)
The crappy burritos at the "Mexican" place down the street. ¡Ay, caramba! Where were the wings?

(You'll notice that most of the above does not fall on the shoulders of McNally and Hobby.)

There was nothing to actually shoot, but no one wanted to be caught empty-handed. I took a grand total of zero photos, unlike the itchy shutter-fingers who used their D3s (avec 70-200mm VR, natch) to capture the ephemeral beauty of... the slide presentation.

Yep.

Slide. Chickchickchick. Next slide. Chickchickchick. Same slide with some some notes on it. Chickidachickidachickidachick. It was a little embarrassing. Strike that. It was a lot embarrassing.

If you were a Nikon boy, you were in good company. (The Canon guys had their revenge, though, when Joe's CLS had a bad case of "You talkin' to me?" Like I said, it's nice to see that it happens to pros, too.)

There were lots of men in attendance—what's up with photogs and beards? A topic for another day, I suppose. Lots of Canadians. Poor Drew had a heckuva time getting footage of us in "Whoo!" mode at 10am. (I'd apologize for this, but that would just make it more Canadian, right?)

Hobby had lots to say about his new model of monetization, too. This was refreshing and welcome. His take on it is: staying local, doing your own thing, and doing it better than the other guy. We are "swimming in technology," he reminds us. There is no reason to not be out shooting amazing photos all the time, blogging them, and carving out our own path while we connect with people on nearby journeys.

Even with the hacking and the slide-shooters (seriously?) it was a more than worthy place to drop a Benjamin. Especially since Mr. Borden is worth more than Mr. Benjamin these days.

One final thought... Photodude, if you must wear the ~~hackni~~ khaki photo vest, could you a least drag it behind a car or something, and make it look like you get out in the field once in a while?

Why I hate (most) concert photography.

2011-03-25T10:10:00.022-04:00

"Hang on, everyone... eyelash. Eyelash!"

Making fun of "Christian Metal" is like shooting loaves and fishes in a barrel (and it wouldn't exactly be Christian of me, would it?) But it occurred to me, the moment I clicked into Scott Kelby's site this morning, that I hate concert photography.

Strike that.
I couldn't care less about concert photography.

[Disclaimer: I love Scott Kelby, but I am not what you'd call a music-guy, and he is. The most-recent hit in my iTunes library is My Doorbell, by The White Stripes. As far as concerts go, my ears can't handle the punishment, and strobe lights really get on my nerves.]

But, it's actually not the photography itself that bugs me. Kelby's photos are sharp and colourful; they're composed and exposed perfectly; and they're post-processed with restraint. It's just that most of what I see is... well, the same old, same old*.

Now, you can't exactly direct these guys in the middle of a set. A concert photographer is not only at the mercy of the stage lighting and where they are forced to shoot from, they have to do the best with whatever the band is offering.

But seriously... I realize there are aficionados who see a unique awesomeness in every permutation of the ~~done-to-death~~ time-honoured Townshend / Cobain / Iggy Pop poses, but I don't. And, how 'bout this bass player? Sure hope he's being ironic.

"You smell that, dude?"

So can you blame the photographer? I'm definitely not a wildlife guy, but I love National Geographic. You can't change the lighting on a mountain ridge. Grizzly bears won't pose for you, no matter how much you pay them. Mind you, they don't feel compelled to windmill a salmon every time they spot a 600mm lens in the crowd, either.

For me, checking out a concert photo is much like greeting a party guest who's brought you the spinach-dip-in-the-hollowed-out-bread. You reflexively think, "Ah, cool," but you soon remember that this once-awesome party-favourite has kinda become a culinary Rickroll.

But here's the main reason I hate concert photography; and this is the hard part...

It reminds me—vividly—that there are people who would say the exact same thing about my portrait and wedding shots.

And many times they'd have a case.

Portraiture is a field that—more than ever—demands a fresh perspective, even when the client secretly wants the same old, same old... the safe stand-bys that they see in everybody else's portfolio.

So, memo to self: quit shooting the same old, same old. At least, quit shooting it all the time. Enjoy the freedom, take some chances. Shoot in the rain. Ask the groom to hang upside down from the swing-set. Get the bass player to fart. Whatever it takes.

*shot #2 is actually pretty cool, if you imagine he is being taken up to the Rapture.

Manual settings, but Auto-ISO?

2011-03-22T13:45:00.002-04:00

I love the 135mm f/2, but it's depth-of-field is about 1 nanometer when it's wide open, plus it's pretty soft and the chromatic aberration is unforgivable. Also, I tend to blur shots with it, employing seemingly normal shutter-speeds. (Not a great combo when you're shooting action photos.)

Basically, I want Aperture Priority with a fail-safe shutter speed.

My solution? Set it to M, on a shutter speed of, say 1/500 at f/4. The DOF is narrow but forgiving, and it's sharp as hell. As the sun sets, I let the ISO figure itself out. No sweat.

Originals here.

At least you have your heath.

2011-03-17T11:21:00.002-04:00

I once went to a Ben and Jerry's and noticed they had a flavour called Heath Bar Crunch.

"How many people ask for Health Bar, " I asked.

"Everyone," she replied, without looking up.

Sure hope there's a plecebo effect in there somewhere.

The Doghouse, and how to get out.

2011-03-16T11:12:00.002-04:00

If you find yourself in a dank shed with a squeaky-toy, chances are you messed up with your gal. Here's my tips on how to get out.

(As seen in Chill magazine, available wherever you buy Twist Shandy.)

Don't leave your camera unloved.

2011-03-01T14:16:00.000-05:00

Somewhere out there, a guy has a Ferrari in his garage. It's been there for a month—unused—while I take the bus to work. This guy has other priorities, after all.

What a waste.

I mean, that would be like owning a D700 plus a couple grand worth of lenses... but waiting for the next family birthday to take photos with it.

Ah-ha moments, Vol. 1

2011-02-28T15:26:00.001-05:00

Once, after doing amateur stand-up, I was approached by a good friend who said, "Oh man. It takes real guts to go up there and do that." I smiled and said something like, "You get used to it. It's actually pretty fun."

It occurred to me much later that this is not something you would say to a comedian who, you know, killed. It's like someone looking at your portfolio and saying, "Wow. It must be scary at times, knowing that you're living hand-to-mouth on your photography."

Poor-man's Octa?

2011-02-23T14:16:00.008-05:00

Like all part-time photogs, I secretly pine for an Octabank. I understand it's a common ailment; especially for those who are prone to gear-envy.

But cheap, they ain't. As Zack Arias put it, "It takes octa-hundred dollars out of your bank."

But, that's what the pros use, so buying one makes you a pro... so long as you have an 85mm f/1.4 and a khaki photo vest.

Truth is, I just wanted something big and efficient, that would give me huge wrapping light up close, and a reasonably consistent source for shooting small groups. I also wanted portable and cheapish, without hauling a gallon of Behr Ultra Pure 1050 everywhere I go.

So here's what I tried last night... a collapsible background as a light source.

4 out of 5 wives prefer available light.

Nothing ground-breaking... not terribly novel. Just a big, white 4'x5' source, without resorting to bedsheets. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

Plus, I already own it.

Most confusing catch-light of the year.

So... a couple of light-stands, a couple of SB's, and you basically have a 20 square-foot softbox—which beats my next biggest softbox by a factor of 5; limited in power only by the number of flashes you can clamp up there.

Is it an Octa? Ah, no. But it's portable, versatile and already in my kit. The set-up shown above needs some fine-tuning—check out those hot spots!—but it seems to be a nice option for location shooting... especially if you aren't privy to white walls, bounce-goats or a Bravia's worth of hard cash.

Verdict: even if I didn't use the collapsible all the time (mostly the gray side) I would probably be tempted to buy one just as a simple reflector.

Caveat: I'm pretty sure you could kiss this thing goodbye if you used it outside. You'd need $800 in sand bags just to save the light-stand.

Typo Personality

2011-01-26T11:51:00.000-05:00

Okay, I have always sucked at typing—"hunt and peck" would be a significant exaggeration of my acumen. Anyhoo, give it a try. I'd love to hear your numbers.
-JS

37 words
Typing Speed Test

New Years Resolution: More blog posts.

2011-01-04T12:38:00.001-05:00

700_5565, originally uploaded by jeremysalejr.

They'll be shorter, but they'll be more frequent... with more photos. Promise.

-JS

Review: Manfrotto 685B monopod

2010-11-25T12:41:00.003-05:00

The ski-pole of champions.

[Note: Yuri Arcurs has a much better summation of the pros and cons of this great monopod here. He loves it. Can't work without it, yet still refers to it as a "piece of junk". Wow. It was his video that made me want to rush right out and buy one on the spot. I deferred on this for about 10 months, then pulled the trigger last Friday.]

The motivation for me buying a monopod was simple:

Wedding.
In a church.
No flash allowed.

i.e.

Shoot that must not fail.
An authority I was not interested in crossing.
Bye bye SB-800s.

Sounded do-able though; and since I have my super-sensitive—practically night-vision—D700, I should have no problem doing handheld, right? Wrong.

A quick scouting expedition to the church (around the same time of day the ceremony was to take place) confirmed all my worst fears. Even at ISO 1600, with a 50mm f/1.4 lens shooting wide open, I was destined to be dragging shutter longer than 1/30th.

Um, no thanks.

Also... not a big fan of shooting wide open on any lens because of the haziness that usually results. A tripod was completely out of the question, since, as the only shooter, I needed to move around a lot. So I knew exactly what I needed wanted to buy. The only reason I picked the 685B was the quick height adjustment possible with the grip. In a studio, you have all the time in the world to adjust height with those silly locking levers, but a wedding ceremony is no time to fiddle around and lose shots. [Near as I can tell, there is no competition for this style of monopod.]

I still ended up pushing my luck on the shutter speed; I reverted to ISO 3200 and 6400 a couple of times; but in the end, I know I got the best shots possible, because of this monopod.

GOOD:

Easy (and silent) height adjustment.
Comforting solidness and weight.
Foot pedal that holds down the base as you extend the length.

NOT SO GOOD:

"Childproof" locking trigger that has to be pressed with your pinky before the grip unlocks. Seriously, who needs this?
Rubber foot is begging to fall off. Get some gaff tape on this quick.
Price! Holy moly that's a lot to pay for an expandable walking stick.

Oh, by the way, wedding guests... When a man or woman of God specifically asks for no flash photography, and you don't know how to turn off the flash on your point and shoot, just put it down. Please.

Oh, and here's something I absolutely didn't count on: when the guests predictably ignored the whole "no flash" thing, they often ended up slapping a nice fat red spot on the bride with their focus-assist light.
Thanks for that.

Charitable to whom?

2010-11-01T15:33:00.000-04:00

Okay. Here's where being a pessimist is pretty easy. GE has a green thing going on right now, called Ecomagination . If you upload an enviro-type photo to their group on Flickr , they "donate" some clean energy to people who need it.

Sure sounds cool and all greeny-like. Think I'll check it out.
(Here's where the overwhelming whiff of "bad idea" comes into play.)

(It's hard to read that, but here's what it says...)

By authorizing this link, you'll allow Ecomagination uploader to:

Access your Flickr account (including private content)
Upload, Edit, and Replace photos and videos in your account
Interact with other members' photos and videos (comment, add notes, favorite)

Umm... are you kidding?

By the way, here are the terms of their generosity:

...you hereby irrevocably grant to GE the unlimited, non-exclusive, perpetual, worldwide, irrevocable, sublicensable, assignable, royalty free right to use, redact, republish, modify, crop, adapt, edit, copy, create derivative works of, perform, distribute or otherwise modify your Photograph including any intellectual property contained therein, together with your name, Flickr user name (if applicable), image, likeness and identity of your hometown, in advertising and/or promotional materials for GE, in any medium now known or hereinafter developed (collectively, “GE Advertising”) in perpetuity, without payment or compensation to you, and without seeking any further approval from you.

Got that? Give us your photo (forever) and we'll donate some clean electricity to needy families.

Trust us.

Thanksgettin'

2010-10-28T13:58:00.001-04:00

(originally appears in Chill Magazine, available wherever you see people cashing in empties at 9AM.)

Thanksgiving – T-Day – it’s the home opener of a season of gluttony. It begins here, morphs into a month long Halloween sugar-rush, then straight into a half dozen Hannukwanzmas Parties, culminating in the Christmas Crisco Carb-Fest. Thank God our shorts have been put away so we can start rocking the stain-free sans-a-belt slacks.

According to our government, Thanksgiving must occur on "the second Monday of October"—it was proclaimed in parliament, for cryin' out loud. Now, I don't want to be that guy, but mandating when citizens ought to be thankful kinda defeats the whole humility thing. It's like forcing your son to write a note to Gam Gam to show appreciation for that sweater he hates. Also, if Ottawa wanted to get us out of debt, they would well consider the mountain of sales tax they're neglecting when stores are closed on the very day we want to shop ourselves thin.

And what's with Monday, anyway? I've never bunked in the House of Commons, but in the "House of Jeremy", Sunday is for giving thanks... Monday is for avoiding the kitchen and making rash promises about your Body Mass Index. Clearly this holiday was ill-conceived.

But at least the Canadian version makes sense—if only from an agricultural perspective. Think about it... if Americans are finally getting around to celebrating harvest four weeks shy of Christmas, you have to wonder about those global warming trends.

So let's give thanks, Canada. You don't have to be religious to appreciate the fortune we are bestowed with. We're living in a country where the lowest hourly wage—one hour of scraping gum off theatre seats, for example—can easily buy a Baconator combo with a Frosty for dessert. Heck, even a Jays fan could find a reason to give thanks in October. (Actually, I'm still doing the math on that, but your suggestions are welcome.)

The point is, as crappy as life gets, we live in a country where it is not only possible, but expected that we download porn in a coffee shop while watching a pirated copy of Saw XIV on an iPad; all the while, studiously avoiding eye-contact with the cashier. There are countries where "WiFi" in a restaurant stands for "With Fire".

So with all this freedom at our disposal, what do we usually do to give thanks? We lock ourselves in a steam-filled bungalow, repeating the same menu as every other year, with people so cherished in our lives that we tolerate their presence a grand total of twice a year, that's what. We further savour the concept of freedom by carving up a sumo-sized fowl that had the outrageous fortune of being raised on a "free" range farm. Hey farmer-dude, Turkey Nation salutes you on your unparalleled benevolence!

I don't know about you, but at my aunt's you get both kinds of food: simple and complex carbs. Gravy is considered a vegetable. There's no touch football in the backyard, but when you consider the very un-athletic nature of the meal, it's funny how "CFL" the kitchen gets at crunch time. Women are organized by food group—running back and forth like offensive linemen, faking handoffs of Tupperware and passing dinner rolls. It can get pretty intense—especially if two women bring the same thing. Even Aunt Stella, who only contributes one tin of No Frills "cranberry" sauce, will start mouthing off like Gordon Ramsay with Tourettes. Then there's Dad, quarterbacking the bird, and shooing nephews away with his Hamilton Beach buzzing at top speed. The smartest place to be—if you can't snag a nap under the coats—is either watching the Thanksgiving Day Classic in the den, or out in the garage with a cold one. Better yet, bring the TV 'round the back.

So here's my two cents on dinner, because no one can stay mad at a bowl of heart-attack potatoes: compliment the chefs, hug your aunts, do the dishes; and at some point, raise a toast—preferably one that doesn't start with "Zigga zagga, zigga zagga..." It's a small price to pay for a great meal, with great people, in a great country.

Just one quick thought... there are a whole bunch of folks—not far from where you live—who are thankful on the days they have a roof over their heads. It probably wouldn't kill you to pack a few turkey sandwiches on Monday, and drop them and a few bucks at your local homeless shelter. Giving thanks is nice. Giving a bit of yourself is better. God bless, and don't hog all the stuffing.

V-Flats and Big, Soft Lighting

2010-10-25T14:08:00.000-04:00

Quick one here.

Just did a test of a lighting setup I plan to use for shooting a friend of mine. I've been doing it in my head for weeks now, so I set it up quickly while the kids were watching TV and couldn't bug me. The flats are opened up, so you can see the SB-600s.

I already had the V-flats (taped together foam core) which are easy, cheap and very useful. When you get them right close to the subject, they bathe the person in big, soft light. As a bonus, they self-gobo the speedlights.

The little slab of foam core in back made a down and dirty white backdrop (illuminated by an SB-800) that had to be remedied in PS. Since the goggles are the main thing here, the glass needed a huge (apparent) light source to give a nice, full reflection. Mission accomplished!

What would I do differently?

Put the flats up higher (they don't need to light the ground, doofus).
Tape up a larger backdrop.
Use ring flash. I like the grey b/g here better than the blown-out white shown below, and a ring flash would give a nice shadow in grey.

Most importantly, I would give my kids whatever they drank from the medicine cabinet that day, which made them willing to pose for me.

All the best!

Interior Design for Men

2010-09-23T15:59:00.064-04:00

[As seen in this month's CHILL magazine. Available at any Ontario beer store with a magazine rack.]

Why would a guy spend a good chunk of his hard-earned dough just to jazz up his crib? Well, as a man who’s been married nine years, the truth is, I haven’t had to make aesthetic decisions for, oh... about nine years. (The fact that I use words like “dough”, “jazz” and “crib” should also tell you that you might be better off asking Grandpa Simpson.)

But, think about it. Why do guys do anything? Usually, to increase the odds of waking up with someone other than Derringer in the Morning. If you’ve mastered the basics of clothing, hygiene and not making women want to shut your trap with a miter clamp, you may want to take a stab at burnishing that 10’x 10’ chick-repelling hovel you call an apartment. You know why George Clooney could get away with that spartan crash-pad in Up In The Air? It’s because he’s George Clooney. You—as it turns out—are not. So, let’s start from the ground up...

Blast your triceps while diminishing your ego.

Three words: Dirty floors bad. If it’s inherently dangerous for your date to walk barefoot in your apartment, she ain’t takin’ off anything else, Shrek. So, if you don’t have carpet, make sure you’ve at least got a working mop. And, provided you’re not dating Pamela Anderson (sorry, was I laughing?) you might think about grabbing some kind of rug—Ikea’s Liönskiin is affordable. Anything stylish to throw in front of the fire / radiator / oil drum, where you can both enjoy...

...your killer art collection! Posters don’t have to involve the Delta Tau guys, or various grades of hot sauce to make an impression.

I think the words were reversed.

There is perfectly viable art out there that’s man enough for your bros, while making you appear semi-intellectual to the ladies.

Ignore the clichéd stuff like Starry Night and Bulldog with a Busted Flush, but do go retro. Bonus points for anything foreign—especially obscure art films. Russian might seem cool, but every word looks like “Kaopectate”, and you should avoid anything from Germany, circa 1933-1945. My advice? Go French or Italian, and make sure you get the words translated, because you will be asked.

Limited budget? Hey, less is more. Remember why Europe appealed to Vincent Vega? It’s the “little things”. Example? You know those Petro Canada towels in your bathroom? By all means keep them as shammies for your ‘92 Cavalier. But when a fine guest arrives, even for coffee, you’re going to quietly pull out the good stuff. Soft, plush terry cloth—white as a Rush concert—that will pamper her hands and face while she’s deciding whether or not to stay over.

So simple, even Beavis can use it.

For the same reason, pay attention to your bed sheets. Say you’re innocently showing her your complete Power Rangers Pog collection while she sits on the edge of your bed. If the only thing running through her mind is, “Dear God, please don’t let me get the pneumonic plague from this filthy, queen-sized sheet of grit,” how likely is it that she’s unpacking her toothbrush?

So let’s tally your design acumen with a little quiz. Picture your current abode, and grade yourself accordingly.

You have:
A room divider made of Japanese paper.
(+10)
A room divider made of empty two-fours and fruit flies.
(-15)

Scented candles. (+5)
Scented pine trees. (-5)

John Wayne poster. (+5)
John Wayne Gacy poster. (-50)

Shag carpet. (+10)
Shaq carpet (-10)

Describe your everyday eating surface:

Hardwood table, place mat. (+20)
Card table, some poker chips. (+6)
Upside-down KFC bucket on the floor (-10)
Right-side up KFC bucket on the john (-30)

A place in your house where three people can sit is called a:
“Chesterfield” (+10)
“Sofa” (+7)
“Couch” (+5)
“Thing you picked up off the curb that was smouldering a little” (-10)

The lighting in your bedroom is best described as:
Warm, subdued, and easily dimmed. (20)
Clean, energy efficient, yet slightly cool. (5)
Fruit cellar in Psycho. (-10)

60-80 points: Looking good, sport. Consider a zen garden?
40-60 points: Might want to snag a few issues of Real Simple.
0-40 points: Please never contact my daughter.

Camping.

2010-07-06T09:55:00.000-04:00

[As seen in this month's CHILL magazine. Available at any Ontario beer store that serves Olde English 800.]

"... and when he walked around the car to open the door for his girlfriend, he saw it; hanging off the door handle... A BLOODY HOOK!!!"

A hook... yeah, whatever. Did he remember ice? What about rechargeable speakers? Geeze, I thought this was supposed to be scary.

Okay, so we each have our take on the chilling campfire story; but when the sun sets at Algonquin Park, I'm more afraid of running out of Underjams than I am of vengeful camp counselors with Swiss Army limbs. Speaking of which, where have all the amputee villains gone? In my day, Dr. No, Captain Hook and the one-armed man from The Fugitive were part of a vast pantheon of truncated psychos. In a more politically incorrect time, handicapable loners could easily do the work of five able-bodied nutjobs. By pigeon-holing twentysomething white males, we are robbing the genre of diversity. Where are the semi-transgendered vampires, the olfactorily-impaired lycanthropes. And don't get me started on the dearth of South-Asian power drill killers.

I digress.

So here we are, knee-deep in summer, and giving serious thought to camping. Nothing else to do except ignore the hedges and concoct even more excuses to buy an iPad. Look, if you're gonna camp, I can't stop you, but let's drop some of the mystique before you pack the mosquito coils.

Myth #1: "Getting away from it all". No doubt about it, solitude and self-reliance are neglected these days—I think Thoreau said something about this in Walden, but I haven't found the DVD yet. Let's be practical. You don't need to "get away" from oxygen and water, right? So why do we feel it's somehow "noble" to abandon Blackberries, HDs and KFC Double-Downs just to prove how helpless we are in the woods? You want to backpack into Pandora with nothing but a shoelace and a shiv? Be my guest. But, remember, if you're bringing a solar-powered Clapper to turn on your Latte-foamer, you've probably missed the point.

Myth #2: Respecting the "Old Ways". Camping is supposed to help you appreciate the conveniences of modern life. After all, Laura Ingalls enjoyed her Little House without the trappings of the internet era. But if you think for a second that she wouldn't have killed Nellie Oleson in cold blood for a copy of Glee, you know as much about women as you do butter churns. The "old ways" suck. Always have, always will. When the Ingalls wanted to appreciate their conveniences, they probably celebrated "Glad-I'm-Not-Being-Burnt-At-The-Stake Week". Then when Sunday rolled around, they dug into to a hearty bowl of switchgrass in front of Pa's hand-carved, widescreen puppet-theatre.

Myth #3: "Fresh" air. Okay. Pop quiz, hot shot: I hand you two flannel shirts. One was worn in the city for a night of club-hopping and shwarmas. The other was worn for a night of standard camping. Guess which one reeks of deet and fear? Bingo.

If I can't sway you, the good news is that there's as many ways to "camp" as there are to remove body hair. It all depends on your pain threshold. At 41, I like things simple and comfortable. The only reason I need a magnifying glass to start a fire is so I can actually read the directions on the Coleman. (Why don't they just print, "After pumping enough times to pop the blister on your thumb, spin the valve anti-clockwise, twist the millimeter-long switch downward, then drive to the nearest A&W.)

The "camp" spectrum goes something like this. (Note: anyone higher than you is a wuss; anyone below, a commie granola-smoker.)

Under the stars: You. A sleeping bag. And lots of things that end in "-pede"
In a tent: Pillow optional. Leave the box-spring at home.
In a trailer: Not exactly Survivorman, but the chemical toilet will make you homesick.
In the hot tub of anyone you can pick up in town, just so you don't frighten children with your girlish shrieking.

I'm somewhere between 2 and 3, and 2 doesn't return my calls anymore. If you've ever changed a diaper during a thunder storm, while your oldest son is having a night-terror about rabid owls shredding the tent roof, you'll appreciate my interest in rudimentary plumbing and roofing.

That being said, here's some quick pointers if and when you decide to rough it:

Sunscreen yourself into a pasty blob of goo every morning. There's nothing worse than stoking a campfire with a sunburn that makes a Redskins fan look like Edgar Winter.
Party trick #1: Wanna dazzle the ladies? Make ice cream. Seriously. All you need is two Ziplock bags, milk, cream, sugar, ice and salt. Google for details.
If you're whizzing against a tree and you see moss, congratulations brother, you are now facing south.
Don't drink any local water. See above.
Bring canned beer. It cools way faster, and the cans can be crushed for a hassle-free load-out. Also...
Wasp issues? Hang a partially-filled can of beer from a tree. The little bastards fly in and drown. Use lime beer and you'll attract more wasps than a Facebook page devoted to Old Navy coupons. (Sorry, wrong WASPs.)
Party trick #2: backwoods "lava lamp". Fill a clear cup with soda water and a few raisins. They'll rise and fall more often than the hopes of Leafs Nation.
Three knots you must master: the "tautline hitch", the "Siberian hitch"... and Don Knots. Once you've nailed your Don Knots impression, you can get a laugh out of anyone older than 35.
Party Trick #3: If you're trying to score 'green' points, bring along some rolled oats (not the flavoured kind). Rub a big handful into your hair vigourously, then comb it all out. Voila. Oil-free coiff.
Forgot your pillow? Use a big bag of Doritos. It's not at all comfortable, but it will take your mind off that escaped lunatic that was last seen near your campground. Enjoy!

Things I did wrong on my last shoot, Vol. 3

2010-06-24T16:02:00.108-04:00

Mission: take some punchy shots of a fuse. (Not the "honey, why is it so dark in here" kind, but the "won't that coyote ever learn" kind.)

In the course of shooting "photo booth" type images at parties, I like to go all out. I mean, why offer just formal shots, when you can throw in props and wigs?

(Okay, sometimes this goes a little overboard. )

But why use a plastic scimitar, when you can use that samurai sword that's been collecting dust in the garage since you were nineteen.

And, for that matter, why have someone holding just a samurai sword, when they could be holding... a lit bomb? I get like Bruce Willis when he's gearing up to exact his revenge on Zed.

For my next shoot, I got it into my head that I'd like someone holding a classic "bowling ball" bomb—without all the fuss something like that could cause on location. Lit bomb fuses? These days, you can't even smoke in the parking lot at Phillip Morris.

It's not that I don't like to bend the rules sometimes, but when you're already juggling camera settings, strobes and tipsy party guests, you hardly need to throw a smoky, sparking TNT fuse into the mix.

The solution, of course, is to do it in post, and what could be easier than a slapping on a generic layer of sparks in screen mode? So, I take a trip to iStockphoto, and quickly realize that nobody has the image I'm picturing. Everything says "sparkler ". I want something that says "Acme".

DIY time. I mean, I'd much rather pay five bucks for a JPEG, but any chance to play with incendiaries and a camera? Done deal.

So, I buy a bunch of cheap fireworks from the local sleazebag (note: you can buy a "Flamebomber Nightstorm" no problem, but you can't buy fuse on its own. Umm... okay.) then hang a black velvet backdrop from some light stands in my kitchen.

Rule #1: Don't forget to remove the fuse from the ordinance.

The plan:

Bracket like mad, with various apertures, to see what combo works best.
Use battery grip and high-speed CF card to maximize shots per burn.
Use a tripod, macro lens, and wireless shutter-release.
Go manual focus.
Put something wide and fire-resistant on the floor.
Open the windows, and pray that Lysol will kill the smell.
Don't do this right before the G20. Whoops .

[crappy photo of set-up, taken with D700 something else]

What went right:

Bracketing exposures produced some dragged shutter that emphasized smoke cloud. Neat.
The always-pleasing "fuh-tsh-tsh-tsh-tsh-tsh-tsh" sound of Continuous High mode.
Fire. Love it.
Got exactly what I envisioned and then some.

What went wrong? Well, there's those small burn marks on the soon-to-be-reno'd kitchen floor. No sweat this time, but the only thing getting shot in our kitchen after August will be me, if I try this stunt again.

One thing I would do differently... that I should probably consider will absolutely do on every future shoot, time permitting?

Take a ten minute break to consider a totally new line of attack (i.e. before all the fuses are burnt). Had I done that on this shoot, I might have tried something different, namely... burn the fuse upside down.

Dang. Never got a chance to try it, but the possibilities are intriguing. The sparks would shoot in a more vertical, blowtorch manner and, as a bonus, the fuse would burn faster, as would the linoleum!

Maybe next time.

Fathers' Day Cheat Sheet

2010-06-11T09:04:00.001-04:00

[As seen in this month's Chill magazine. Available wherever you buy fine stout.]

You may not like him—or even know him—but if your name isn't Anakin, you have a father out there. He's not necessarily wise, and he can't play God of War for beans, but if you tolerate the way he nods off at Thanksgiving and blames his farts on the cat, it's time to throw the man some respect. June 20th happens to be a great day of the year to reconcile male bonding with family duty.

Now, there are those of us who are fathers, and those who will be fathers. There's also a group I refer to as 'The Others'. The Others are a tribe of men who play Texas Hold 'em until three on a weeknight; sleep in late; and think Yo Gabba Gabba is a Chinese cellist who covers Ramones tunes. I'm not talking to you guys. Go buy an iPad app.

There are also those out there who are fathers but—spoiler alert—just don't know it yet. Men in this category should consider Fathers' Day a time to give their collective heads a shake. Because, if you're in any danger of unwittingly siring an offspring, consider the following a Public Service Announcement:

Dude, since you've obviously harnessed the Axe-effect, might I suggest swinging by the latex aisle the next time you visit Shoppers. The women of Canada—and all taxpayers—thank you in advance.

Now, when you think about it, it should really be called Dad's Day. I mean, any turkey-baster with motile sperm can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a Dad. 'Father' is so clinical and Victorian. A 'father' is a man who brings home coal and asks you to fetch a switch when you don't wipe you nose properly. Surely, no kid has ever said, "Thanks for the Xbox, father."

But to be called 'Dad'... that's totally different. It means you are genuinely sought after, and likely free of scandal. Maury Povich never pauses dramatically, and says, "You are the Dad." Dad's know what they are, and work hard at it. Which poses the question: how did we end up with a crappy expression like 'Deadbeat Dad'? This is an oxymoron on par with 'friendly fire' and 'stationary orbit'. I've got a news flash for you, Daddy No-bucks: If you've ever blown your kid's sneaker budget chasing an inside straight, you have as much claim to the title 'Dad' as I do to 'Rwanda's toughest vegan'.

So, assuming you are the man of honour, here is one hard truth to consider... the only people who get excited about Fathers' Day are... kids. Think about it. Your wife hasn't forgiven you for that 'Wii Fit Oprah-ciser' you got her for Mothers' Day, so she's not going to be your wingman on the sleep-in thing. Your parents only call when they need to know how to 'unfriend' someone on Facebook. And even Robin Williams on Prozac would rather hit the links than celebrate the day he got one through the posts. So buck up and consult the following when you're stumped...

Priority #1:
Keep the kids from crying...

If you smell burnt toast, you're not having a stroke. That will come later.
Depending on the age of your kids, you have macaroni-art heading your way. Just smile, and try not to inhale too much glitter.
If they give you a tie, put it on right away so they have one clear memory of you wearing it.
If they give you cologne, they're just following the playbook. (If they give you Listerine and 1000 yards of mint floss, there may actually be a hint in there.)
Kids eventually realize that sleeping-in is the best gift of all. This occurs near their 30th birthday.

Priority #2:
Take care of your own Dad...

Call him after 11. That's all he wants. And try as they might, there is still no such thing as a masculine Hallmark card.
Bonus Points: If your name's Patrick, tell him you took out life insurance. Good for you, son!
Want to get creative? Turn a cliché on its head by giving Thai, rather than a tie. (My advice? Food, not massage.)

Priority #3:
If you're a wife...

You know how you like a box that says DeBeer's? We like a box that says DeWalt.
If you promise to not bug us for 24 hours, we promise never to say, "Who's yer daddy"

And to The Others, I say, enjoy your rest. I hope life in the fast-food lane is every bit as enjoyable as I remember it to be. Do at least two of the following for the Gipper, will ya?

Set your alarm for 2 in the afternoon... just to see if you can make it.
Walk into a Walmart... then leave immediately. Savour this memory.
Go to a theatre and pick a movie on the spot. Too early? Grab a beer and read the paper.
If you're feeling especially cruel, drop by a pet store and loudly talk about the six puppies you want to buy for your daughter, "just because she's worth it".

And, finally, let's not forget those fathers who aren't with us any more. If you can spare a thought, why not offer thanks to those deserving dads who went to that great workshop in the sky (especially since you're guaranteed to get the last word for once). Just don't get carried away when giving props to your main homie. Unless Dad had the word "Ice" or "MC" in his name, there's no need to pour a malt liquor down the sewer.

Come to think of it, that's pretty much the only place it deserves to go. I stand corrected.

Things I did wrong on my last shoot, Vol. 2

2010-06-10T10:56:00.010-04:00

... or, "How I Became a Muslin Extremist".

With a charity shoot, it's usually up to you to come up with the idea and see it through. And since nobody's paying the piper, you generally get to call the tune.

So make it a jam session..

On my last shoot, what was required was a pay-per-shot "photo booth" for a large party. I figured on some formal stuff and some crazy stuff. The perfect time to stretch out a little.

Last year at Lobsterfest, I kicked the tires on a 9' white seamless, complete with shiny tileboard on the floor. Pure Arias. Definitely a classy look, but—as it turns out—impractical on location. (You can read about that set-up here.)

This year, I decided to forgo the seamless headache, and try a black muslin—no flooring. Basically, the exact opposite of last year. 90% for practicality, 10% because I wanted to try something different.

[Special thanks to Headshots in Toronto, by the way, who donated the muslin and a floor stand for the weekend. Love these guys.]

Because I already knew the location, I didn't re-scout it. I cetainly should have, but there were no surprises. (Last year I got to compete with people crowding the line of an all-you-can-eat lobster buffet. It actually worked out pretty well, but I still have nightmares involving melted butter and a slippery tileboard. Hello liability insurance.)

The new space was better in many ways, slightly worse in others. I had a little alcove right by the main entrance; a cul-du-sac with zero chance of cross-traffic. It was about seven feet across, twenty feet deep, with tons of height.

Pros:

Right by the entrance means people notice you and remember to drop by.
I'll take ceiling height over any other dimension. In this case, I had height to spare for a backdrop, plus a hairlight. Hell, I probably could have snuck a hammock up there.
A deep space means lots of distance between the b/g and the subject. Way awesome.

Cons:

No width means no rim lights.
No width means no wide group group shots. I think that's actually a "pro", come to think of it.
No width means people are tripping over light stands and props on their way in.

A 24"x24" softbox (SB-800) was my key light. No problem there. I set it for TTL, since I knew the light-to-subject distance would vary depending on the number of people in the shot. I wanted the key close to people for two reasons: a larger apparent light source, and less illumination of the dark grey black muslin, due to fall-off.

Getting it right in-camera is the way to avoid aneurisms in post—especially when you're talking about 300 frames or so when it's all over.

I wanted reasonable depth of field, so I shot at f/11. I bumped the ISO up to 400 to improve my recycle time on the strobes. and set shutter for 1/200, as I recall. After that, it was all up to the lighting.

Just like exposing white seamless for the brightest (usable) whites, when you use a black backdrop, the closer you can get it to pure black, the easier it is to burn it in post if it catches some reflection. Unlike white seamless, you cannot over-darken a background. There is no inverse to lens flare.

So, I shoot a grey card...

... then promptly forget to shoot any set-up shots. Argh. (I don't know where my brain goes when I'm on location. If I were shooting on the set of Iron Man 4, with Joe McNally holding the bounce card and Scarlett Johansson manning the wind machine, I would still probably forget to take a set-up shot. Tunnel-vision, anyone?)

After chimping, I bounce the key light with a Tri-Grip taped up on the right wall—again because of width limitations.

Not using rim lights was a drag, mostly because David Hobby had just whet my appetite the day before with this post. But I still needed separation light—lots of black suits and dresses to consider. That meant: speedlight... high, and to the back. I couldn't find a clamp, so I used a light stand at its highest reach, then dropped the muslin by about 6 inches to accommodate.

For lens flare, I gobo'd the SB-800 with a Honl snoot, sitting up top like a baseball cap. I went back to my shooting location, and made sure I wasn't getting flare.

This was the look for most of the shoot. I locked the stobe on Manual. If I did it again, I would try a Lumiquest softbox (or two!) to get more even coverage. (I'd probably back off on the nuke factor, too.)

For only a two-light shoot, I was happy with the results, but if I could go back and do it again, I'd bring along my ringflash to fill in those eyes.

Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. It's all about the eyes.

So what went wrong? Not much, actually. I could have used more separation light on the sides and a glint of ringflash would have iced the cake nicely. My full-length shots illustrate the need for a kicker on the floor, but I generally wasn't looking for full length, anyway. (I certainly wasn't cropping for it.) Having the guests bring along some props was a life-saver, too.

What went right? Almost everything.

Everyone had a blast, and the tickle-trunk let people get creative after their formal shots. The guests were nicely lubricated after dinner, and if you're ever looking to generate a little traffic, you could do worse than having a bunch of women, dressed to the nines, shreiking about who gets the samurai sword. We raised a whack of cash for our daycare, and I stuffed my business card in as many fists as possible.

Most importantly... I didn't have to pack a fracking 8'x4' tileboard into my Hyundai at the end of the night.

The full shoot is here.

Things I did wrong on my last shoot.

2010-04-22T16:18:00.005-04:00

Note: I'm thinking of making this a regular post—maybe a whole new blog. It helps me remember valuable information that I learned on the shoot, and forces me to be more ruthless on my pics, after the fact.

... besides, there's nothing I enjoy more than a photographer critiquing another photographer.

Anyway, as luck would have it, my last "shoot" was "Tae Kwon Do Belts ". This is going to be shooting fish in a barrel, because, for starters, I didn't realize when I arrived that I was shooting anything other than a few snaps of my son getting his yellow belt. You know, the cobbler's son wears no shoes... God forbid I put any effort into this.

Lesson #1: Anything worth doing, is worth doing well. A cliche for good reason.

At least I've brought my bag, which means I've got a D700, two primes (20mm, 50mm) and an SB-800, among other odds and ends. The yellow belts go first, so I get the camera out with a 50, and handhold my 800. At this point the instructor—who is also my instructor—sees the gear, and asks me, nice as can be, if I could shoot as much as possible. I'm certainly okay with this, because—who knows—maybe there's a little horse-trading to be done with him next session. Any way you slice it, it's a chance to flex.

Besides, I've seen this guy kick like, 12 feet above his head.

So now I'm running and gunning. My CLS is set for Group A, TTL. A few test shots, and the pop-up is set at TTL for fill, plus or minus. I'm at f/5.6 with a locked shutter at 1/125 (so I don't accidentally alter it while I'm buzzing through the photos in view mode—learned that one the hard way ).

Lesson #2: Don't just bring a knife to a knife fight. If you're going to bring a flash, bring a damn light stand. At least a Justin clamp.

Mr. Off-Camera Flash thinks he'll do fine just holding the flash up in the air, because previous run-and-guns have usually been very close to the subject—and who wants a light-stand for that? Problem is, many of the shots are from relatively far away, and once that happens, most of the off-axis effect is lost. I compensate by putting the 800 on a shoe, on the floor. This gives me a dramatic shadow on the far wall...

But truth be told, I don't love it. Also, the low angle isn't helping anyone's face.

It's right about now that I realize a little ambient light could help me, but it's the most putrid fluorescent ever. Fortunately, I have my gels. Un-fortunately, I don't really have time to dork around with the varying shades of green, so I use a 1/2 and pray.

Lesson #3: Standardize your work-flow. There's lots of time before the shoot. There's very little time during the shoot.

Then come the group shots. What? Now I really wish I had two flashes and two stands. Hand-holding the 800 is one thing, but now I'm subconsciously married to my on-axis fill. Not such a good thing when the instructor is wearing glasses... glasses that look like they've been worn by a toddler covered in sunscreen at a Chinese buffet.

Now I'm a little panicked, because in addition to everything else, these group shots have to happen now. There's lots of kids getting churned out, and the parents are itching to get out of the gym. The result: I pay zero attention to the background, and now I have basketball hoops and windows growing out of people's heads. The reptilian part of my brain is screaming, "Fix it in post! Be a pro, and don't shuffle people around like a nervous aunt at Thanksgiving!!!"

Lesson #4: Reptilian brains are for reptiles. Take charge of the situation!

I will reiterate: no-one forced me to shoot. I was not getting paid, and was okay with that. I had friends in that room, and they'd do the same for me.

Thing is, this room was also packed with potential clients. When the business cards were requested, I was squirming at the thought of any sub-par work going up on my site. I bit my reptilian tongue, and was already firing up Lightroom in my head.

I did what I could in post: with some adjustment brushes, tweaking and vignetting. Some of the group shots were improved by adding a guilty pleasure: selective colour. (I generally avoid it like the plague—having drunk Zack Arias' Kool-Aid—but in this situation, it was begging for it.)

The mega group shots really sucked, and I can't even bear to post one here, but, all in all, it was a very "educational" shoot—the equivalent of a date who has a "great personality".

So... lots of things I would do differently, but nothing that's keeping me up at night. Next time, though... no excuses. And no glasses!

One last caveat: I was also getting my yellow belt that night. But when I walked in and saw that I was the only adult in the six o'clock session, I quickly decided that I would rather eat broken glass than do my impression of Cosmo Kramer "dominating the dojo".

All the best!

Things I have been paid to do.

2010-03-16T14:33:00.003-04:00

I list these mostly as a cautionary tale for my children, as to why single-minded people are more successful than Dad.
Oh well, it was all fun!

In chronological order of pay-stubs:

Pick up rotten apples. (1 cent per apple, 500 apples. Good coin in 1974.)
Shovel snow at the church.
Perform magic.
Deliver Toronto Star.
Fry McNuggets.
Confirm house addresses for Etobicoke Guardian.
Sling gin.
Wait tables.
Direct cruises.
Spin the Money Wheel.
Blather about drivers' licensing.
Cut video.
Tell jokes.
Write magazine articles.
Produce television promos.
Take photos.

Wow.
Hope they let me do that apple thing when I'm 90.

My faves...

2010-02-01T10:25:00.004-05:00

I am constantly telling friends and family about videos and other things that are funny/educational/neato. To make things easier, I thought I'd compile them here. They are in no particular order, and I take no responsibility for unsuitable content.

Hope you like them....
JS

"The Biff Song"
(good on ya, Biff)

"The Third and Seventh"
(jaw-dropping CG—do the HD version, if you can)

The Third & The Seventh from Alex Roman on Vimeo.

"Life Lessons from an ad man"
(defines 'clever')

"Star Wars: The Phantom Menace review"
(funny, twisted, and true.)

"Make fire with a Coke and a chocolate bar"
(who knew?)

"Six ways mushrooms can save the world"
(wow)

"Ten dimensions, explained"
(cool... but I still don't really understand it)

"The Vice guide to Liberia"
(terribly unsettling and bleak)

More to come...

Disney's Wonderful World of Unfulfilled Promises.

2010-01-26T10:52:00.005-05:00

Q: What is the definition of "sucker"?

A: Me, in 1978, watching the opening credits of The Wonderful World of Disney.

Like every parent in history, I sometimes wonder: Will my children become emotionally stunted; having pretty much everything they want, whenever they want it? Perhaps. But they will never have to endure anything as heartbreaking as Disney's weekly proof that there is one born every minute.

As I remember, WWoD was sandwiched between Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom (nothing says 'exotic fauna' like 'Omaha'), and The Beachcombers.

Those Disney guys were master puppeteers, and they knew how to hook kids with gorgeous imagery. Peter Pan? Herbie? Lady and the Tramp? Holy moly! This is going to rock! No pie for me, Grandma. I'll be in the living room!

Except, they never, ever... aired the good stuff. Jungle Book? Nope. Fantasia? Negatory. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea? More like 20,000 Frames of Wasted TV. Up until The Phantom Menace, WWoD was THE greatest source of unfulfilled hype in the history of media.

And I fell for it. Every. Single. Week.

Much like The Six Million Dollar Man, WWoD's opening was 500 times better than the show itself. Tinkerbell would wave her magic wand, and you'd glimpse technicolor marvels that were never once delivered. To make it worse, anyone in the room older than 25 would wistfully reminisce about seeing Cinderella at the Bijou for five cents (throw in a popcorn, and it was free!)

Then, once millions of North American tots were properly stoked, Tink would shoo it all away, and you'd get... a sixty minute documentary on goose migration. Thanks, Walt. That whole Donald Duck thing looked kind of distracting anyway.

Now, to be perfectly fair, there's three things I should clarify.

Bippidy... Walt Disney was long dead—or frozen, if that's your bag—and certainly had no control over TV programming in 1978.
Boppidy... If you used your brain, it was obvious that no animated feature could be aired during a one hour slot.
Boo... Even a five-year-old should catch on to a bait-and-switch after the 176th duck-tease. Still, it was like being taken on a tour of Willy Wonka's factory and being served raw turnips in the commissary.

But someone's gotta take the brunt, and I say Walt is that man.

You know why?

Because in all the photos I've ever seen of him, Walt Disney has struck me as a meany. Like Monty Hall and Uncle Bobby, Walt Disney never looked all that likable, no matter how much he smiled. And even if you dismiss that whole anti-semite rumour, Disney apparently had no problem throwing some of his Hollywood buds under the career-ending bus that was HUAC .

So Walt, wherever you are, I hope that you're adrift on the sea of children's tears you created; floating on a pallet of pirated Snow White Blu-Rays.

If it makes you feel any better, my daughter loves every single thing you've ever created.

How are we helping?

2010-01-13T14:43:00.018-05:00

The aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti brings up the same twisted feelings I get after every news-worthy disaster.

Pity.
Thankfulness (that my family is safe).
Guilt.
Concern.
Anger.
The need to vent words that I might regret in two days.

I've read a couple of stories in the paper, I've seen tragic photos. I donated some money. That's about all I can do right now. [edit #1: a friend has convinced me to start donating blood again. No argument there.]

The real question is: Did you care about Haiti before? (These people were not exactly pre-ordering iSlates iPads last week.) Will my money help anyone? I'm praying it does, and I actually think it will. I just hope people won't forget. The media will, but that shouldn't surprise anyone.

How are those tsunami victims doing, by the way? I certainly don't know. How sad is that?

I tell you what I'm not doing...

Changing my Twitter avatar to something that shows "I care". I did this wholeheartedly before (to support the Iranian people, who are choking under their government), and guess what? One day, like almost everybody else, I sheepishly changed it back. To all appearances, I gave up on the cause. Been there, done that. Even a bumper sticker has more shelf-life. Bottom line? I'm pretty sure no one in Port-au-Prince gives a crap that I am "aware" of their problems [edit: or if we redecorate the CN Tower.]
Flying to Haiti to help out. You want to help in a much bigger way? Donate your airfare (and the two weeks salary you'd be forgoing) to charity. Yes, it's hard to know which agency to trust, and probably not every single cent of your money will be helping those who need it most. But at some point, you just have to give something. Or not. It's your call.
Taking more photos. The best guys are on it already. Don't let me dissuade you from a life-changing career-path, but it's true. [This is not to say you shouldn't use your camera to change lives, but maybe keep it local, and donate the profits? Also, you'd also be drinking water and eating food that that the Haitians need for themselves.]

Just venting, remember?

If you're looking for a way to donate, WorldVision is a good a place to start as any. If it's too Christian for you, there are plenty of others, like the Red Cross or Red Crescent. After that, we all need to make out own peace with it. There's always enough death and suffering to go around, and if you think about it too hard, you will be crippled with despair.

Is this blog helping? Just me. From the standpoint that I have a place to try to collect my own thoughts and reconcile why terrible things will always happen.

Maybe someone will write something that helps. Until then, maybe open your wallet and hit the blood clinic.

2010: The year we make Mulligatawny.

2010-01-01T14:05:00.000-05:00

Everybody who tastes this amazing soup that I pilfered from the actual Soup Nazi (via Top Secret Recipes) wants the low-down. It's a total no-brainer that never fails to please.

4 quarts water
6 cups chicken (or vegetable) stock
2 potatoes
2 carrots
2 celery stalks
2 cups eggplant
1 onion
1 cup corn
2/3 cup jarred roasted red peppers (or just use the whole jar)
1/2 cup tomato sauce
1/2 cup pistachios
1/2 cup cashews
1/2 cup Italian parsley
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/4 cup butter
2 tbs. sugar
1/2 tsp. curry powder (add more if you want to kick it up a notch)
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/4 tsp. thyme
1/4 tsp. marjoram
1/4 tsp. nutmeg

Dice vegetables, put everything in a large stockpot, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer 4-5 hours until reduced by half. Serve with bread and a bad attitude.

Oh yeah, here's the clip.

Sign of the Times?

2009-12-16T10:15:00.002-05:00

So I go to Costco with the family, and my wife is ticked at herself for forgetting her cellphone (not usually a big deal, but we do have to shop in different parts of the store for a while.)

It quickly occurs to me that someone from 1955 would be a little wigged-out by this.

"You carry phones around?"
"Both of you?"
"You're in a store so big that you need telephones to stay in touch with each other?!"

Okay, take me back to the DeLorean, I wanna go home.

Best TED talk. Ever.

2009-12-11T14:31:00.002-05:00

Nothing I can add. So awesome.

JS

Christmas Survival Guide (originally from Chill Magazine).

2009-12-10T09:07:00.009-05:00

Christmas is definitely in the air. And by "the air", I mean, "your face". Everywhere you look are LED icicles, ever-more-obese Santa effigies, and aerosol-snow that looks like it's been applied with a pressure-washer set to "kill". On the radio, The Jingle Cats have been sprung from their pound, and somewhere Bing Crosby is wondering why he ever did a duet with David Bowie. Thankfully, Christmas doesn't last forever; but here are some pointers and other reindeer games that will help you survive the holidays...

Tipping

One thing you'll notice these days is that your average service provider has become more desperate than a squeegee-kid at a wishing well. More needy than an American banker. More awkwardly conciliatory than David Letterman on his wedding anniversary. I'm talking about 'Seasonal Tipping Disorder'.

My views on "tipping" make Mr. Pink look like Robin Hood; but at Christmas, I find it especially grating when a bartender who's barely tolerated my existence all year, suddenly gets all Bob Cratchit when I come through the door. "Evening, guvnah! Have you lost weight? Might I suggest a mulled wine and handing over any cash in your pocket?"

Here's Mr. Stingy's "tips" for downplaying holiday gratuities:

Make sure you have some Loonies and Toonies on you at all times. Barkeeps sometimes like to "forget" your change near Christmas. (Hey, I used to sling beer. We're a desperate bunch.)
If you must take your wife to a restaurant, try to pick a place with the words "Bell" or "King" in it.
Get your hair cut before December 1st and ride it out til January.
Suspend newspaper delivery for the month. At the very least, gift the paperboy a laser-scope so he can start hitting porch once in a while.

What if you're the guy who actually needs the tips? Simple. Treat people nice all year 'round, and don't give me seventeen dollars in silver when you bring my change. Other than that, be content with 15%, and make sure the beer's cold. By the way, Little Miss Sassy-Waitress, "Tipping" is a city in China, but is now referred to as Xiphyang.

Work

If you're stuck in an office job, but smart enough to schedule your holidays well in advance, ask to work on Christmas Eve. Sounds stupid, but even Leona Helmsley used to let people go home at noon, and there's always some woman from Accounts Receivable running around with a bottle of hootch for your coffee. Just sayin'. It might not be overtime, but it's an easy day's pay, and you'll be home in plenty time to read The Night Before Christmas.

Oh, a quick word about office parties. Don't. A potluck lunch is one thing, but no good can come from being at a free bar with that young intern your wife hates. You know—the one who thinks The Breakfast Club is the new sandwich at Tim Hortons. Do yourself a favour. Buy everyone a box of Toffifay, and go to a movie by yourself. At least that way, there's no possibility of performing karaoke.

Christmas morning

As an adult, there's generally two ways of picturing Christmas morning. Norman Rockwell or Norman Bates. If you belong in the rose-tinted world of the former, then deck the halls! I'm not going to rain on your Santa Claus parade. But I generally look upon the majesty of a Yuletide morn in much the same way credit card execs look upon a consumer stampede at an electronics store: equal parts excitement, greed, and barely-concealed disgust.

As an aspiring grumpy old man, I see not so much the greeting cards and presents, as the carnage they herald—mainly, the wrapping-paper abattoir that engulfs the living room by 9 o'clock. I can't see the Christmas tree for the forest, in other words.

Let's get something straight. I'm not some hemp-weaving, enviro-Scrooge, looking to deprive kids of the frenetic awesomeness that was my childhood. I'm not against Christmas, and certainly not against kids. I'm not even against mindless wastes of time and money—as the seven "fart apps" on my iPod can attest. What I am against is my annual certainty that this year it will all somehow turn out differently.

This year... the kids will be satisfied with everything they get. This year... my Dad won't give me a battery-powered shoe-straightener. This year... my hands won't be sliced into figgy pudding from opening 47 clamshell packages with a steak-knife. Seriously, what kind of vindictive manufacturer encases a stamp-sized product in a hard plastic sarcophagus that you could make truck-bumpers out of? Why not just give me that puzzle-cube from Hellraiser and spare me the slow death?

But it all comes down to holiday tradition. Doing the same (stupid) things every year creates the warm cultural tapestry that we all share. Even if that tapestry is used to staunch arterial bleeding in the emergency room.

Making the most of it

It's not like Christmas is just one day, either. It's called the holiday 'season' because it lasts for almost 3 months. Astronomically, Christmas starts the moment you've wheeled the green bin to the curb on Thanksgiving night, and officially ends in late January, when you've vacuumed the last of the 10 squintillion pine needles from your floor. That's a lot of cheer to ration out for one holiday.

In the same way that basketball games should just start at 90 points per side, then play out for 3 minutes, the holidays (officially known as RamaHanaKwanMas) could probably be wrapped up in about a week. And that includes the Boxing Month cage-match where grown men line up at 3AM, just so they can buy a $5 BluRay of Scary Movie XII: Night of the Living Audience Member.

Here are my suggestions for improving the holiday time-warp:

For starters, Christmas-themed ads shouldn't be allowed to start until December 18th and would halt immediately on the 23rd. The only programs on TV during that week would be The Grinch, the Fat Albert Christmas Special, that BB-gun movie, and—if you're up late enough—Die Hard. "Yippie Ki-Yay, stocking-stuffer!" The only thing on-air between the 25th and 31st? That 'burning log' movie. Even newspapers should be forced to print stills of the log in various stages of combustion and decay.

If you're still with me, I'd like to go one suggestion further. No more buying other people gifts. People should buy themselves (and their kids) one—and only one—completely awesome thing. That's it. Give some cash to charity, and casually flip the bird to every greeting card store you walk by. (Wouldn't that be a Hallmark moment?) Then, everyone would gather for a nice dinner to talk about the cool things they bought themselves. Also, turnips would be outlawed.

No matter what your faith (or lack thereof) let's just be nice each other, and save our natural hostility for when it's really needed. Valentine's Day.

Things I would tell myself in... 1984.

2009-11-11T12:26:00.008-05:00

1984

Say, Say, Say... I'm really enjoying this. The further you go back, the easier it is to be a know-it-all. And, man, if you seriously have no advice for a douchebag 16-year-old, you definitely need a new drug.

Top Ten things I would tell myself in 1984:

Listening to Duran Duran? Fine. Wearing three Duran Duran pins on your multi-pocketed jacket? The opposite of fine.

Don't throw that party. Scott Gardner shows up.
We're all really happy that whole D&D thing got back-burnered. It takes 18 double-zero strength to get a date while that's going on.
Would it kill you to wear a pair of jeans?
If you don't know three consecutive answers on a fill-in-the-blanks test, always go with Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. Make it your signature.
The Cult or The Cure? Choose wisely.
For the love of God, one camouflage article of clothing at a time.
Easy on the gay jokes, Diceman.
Instead of bitching about the sheet music available for sax, ask Mr. Van Dyne to get you some John Coltrane or Lou Marini... Hey, university is three years away and you need every secret weapon you can get.
You know how insecure you feel? Get over it. So is everyone.

P.S. Thank you for not smoking.

Things I would tell myself in... 1989.

2009-11-09T12:36:00.011-05:00

1989

I ended up having a lot of fun with "Things I would tell myself in 1994", so I thought I'd keep it rolling. Keeping with our species' proclivity for all things base-ten, I'm honouring the David Letterman format.

Top Ten Things I would tell myself in 1989*

That whole "Berlin Wall" thing? Important. Remembering where you were when Batman opened?... Not so much.
If you pay the oil bill on time, they won't cut off your heat. I checked.
Take advantage of your university experince by chatting up your profs once in a while. It puts you in the good books, and you may learn something before it's done. Hey! Hey! Hey!
Put. The beer. Down.
The House of Lords called. They no longer want credit for your bouffant.
Call your mother.
News flash. That weird artist you're trying to date is just as psycho as she lets on.
Seriously, lose the cowboy boots.
Good for you... grocery shopping at Kensington Market. Finally, a habit worth bragging about.
Aerosmith is peaking now. Savour the moment.

Coming soon? Yep. 1984, baby.

* Other than... never, ever do that stupid John Cusack thing. If your romantic gesture of last resort involves "serenading" a girl with a Radio Shack boom-box while dressed like a homeless pedophile, you have truly scraped the bottom of the desperation barrel.

Things I would tell myself in... 1994.

2009-11-05T14:52:00.016-05:00

1994

'If I met my younger self from back then today, I’d say to him, “You’re just paying your dues, Kiddo. Frickin’ get over yourself…” '

Hugh MacLeod is a guy who naturally inspires. His site, his art, his philosophy... it's all part of a package that, for me, cuts to the chase of life itself. Life is short, success is hard. And thank God for that.

Anyway, I'm not here to pat Hugh on the back. He doesn't need it. (Besides, I bought some art recently, and I figure we're about even.)

But that quote made me think... what would I say to myself, say 15 years ago? Other than, "Are you Sarah Connor?"

I know that hardcore advice, like "stop drinking", or "exercise more" would fall on deaf ears; even if it were coming from a 350 lb. alcoholic with an electric voice-box, so I tried to keep it simple.

Here's my first 10 thoughts:

Keep working... at anything that pays.
Quit hoping to be a stand-up, and go be a stand-up.
You can't have 20 priorities. It's an excuse to not do anything.
Quit drinking at bars so much. It's too expensive.
Call your mother.
That Elastica CD you bought isn't fooling anyone.
Do more weekend trips to places you've never been.
Carry yourself in a way that would piss off your ex-girlfriend.
I'm not kidding. Ditch the f*@#ing cowboy boots.
Stop waking up the neighbours next door. They have kids, for cryin' out loud.

Anyway, barring any new discoveries at CERN, I'm guessing I won't be doling this advice out to the guy on Spencer Avenue in 1994, but it's a fun exercise.

Not lost on me:
A smart 41-year-old would start planning the conversation he was about to have with that 56-year-old coming down the street in his DeLorean.

360° timelapse video on a car roof.

2009-10-30T15:59:00.000-04:00

360° Panning-head timelapse drive: Toronto from Jeremy Sale on Vimeo.

The idea was simple (and certainly had been done before). The hardware was pretty easy to come by.

But the pucker-factor was huge.

Mount a battery-powered Meade panning head on the roof of a car with a Nikon D70s and an intervalometer. The camera shoots around one frame per two seconds, and the head rotates about once every ten minutes.

I have done car-roof timelapses before. Static, that is. The first time was really scary, wondering if my only camera and PClix were destined for the curb once I took a corner a little too fast—left to collect curious glances like those orphaned running shoes you see on the shoulder every now and then.

Coincidentally, my first mobile shoot was also the first time I ever drove under the speed limit for a 30 minutes in a row. First-born in the back seat? No problem. DLSR on the roof? Well, it's not like I'm picking favourites, but the Nikon might actually kill someone if things come unglued. After all, I installed it, remember.

As it turns out, a Manfrotto SuperClamp is probably stronger that the roof rack that it is attached it to. I could rock the car back and forth with it. Also, it's very easy to double and triple the redundancy of the rig with any number of wires, ropes and locks. Even if it gets decapitated in a Burger King drive-thru, the whole thing won't fall off your car. (It'll just scrape the paint off your roof and hang in front of your cracked windshield, as you drive to the bar, weeping.)

The thing is, a spinning tripod head can't easily be secured anywhere other than the base plate, which has only one screw-thread. If you attach a cable to the camera, the cable will eventually spool up snug and bring the rig to a stand-still, or worse.

Since I'm not a welder (and I'm not all that patient), I rolled the dice. It felt secure, and I was just doing a test shoot after all. Anyway, I got the results I wanted and nobody got killed.

I'd probably make some minor changes to the exposure and rotation speed, but I'm dying to try it again. Next time, my wife's cousin has agreed to weld a couple of links to the base plate, so that I can indulge my undying respect for Murphy's Law.

P.S. Meade, stop putting 3/8" fine thread on your devices. There's a whole new world out there.

Don't do what "Jeremy Don't" does—Ep. #1

2009-09-14T10:56:00.007-04:00

Welcome to my new column. "Jeremy Don't" is my alter-ego. He offers great advice to photographers who desperately want to sabotage their next shoot. The column exists 20% as a cautionary tale, and 80% to rap myself on the head.

Off the top of my recently rapped head, here's some solid advice.

Slave your third flash at a birthday party with lots of camera-happy relatives, because you're too cheap to buy a fourth Pocket Wizard. Can you say strobe-light?
Forget the phone number of your client at home, even though you have the location and time written down.
Leave your battery charger at the event, plugged into the wall.
Eat too much of the delicious food that is graciously offered at the event.
Don't rent a wind machine. That would only make women look great, and give people a reason to flock to your photo-booth in an overly hot church basement.
Make sure your gear bag has no business cards. Wouldn't want to get any other business, would you? No.

Notes on the above:

What was I smoking exactly? I guess I just love the SU-4 feature so much, I forgot about the other humans who have flash cameras at birthdays.
Thankfully, did not need it.
Had my name and # written on it in Sharpie.
Good food is good food.
Did not really need yet another expense digging into my bottom line. (If I did it again, I'd rent/buy it in a heart beat, though.)
Had a whack of them in my car. Still. Come on.

Also, I finally remembered to white-balance with a card at the start of the shoot, rather than the next day. Lightroom always does a great job on RAW after the fact, but it was nice to actually use the thing for its intended purpose once.

Things to remember during a location shoot...

2009-09-10T14:44:00.021-04:00

[Not an A-Z treatise or anything. Just some thoughts from my last shoot.]

There are times when the only thing you want to say to a client is, "Stay still. Smile. Keep doing that until I stop shooting." Because that's often what's on the tip of your tongue while the clock ticks, the batteries die, and the clouds roll in.

If I ever—for second—felt that these words would get me some better shots, I would try them. But, I'm pretty sure they don't. My mother raised a polite son, and as flustered as I ever get, I have always known that curt photographers don't get a lot of word-of-mouth business.

The best way to get a good portrait? Instill confidence and relaxation in the subject. That's 80% of your job—done. Smiles are natural and easily coaxed, you don't have to rely on sub-amateur words like 'cheese', and when the client eventually shows her teeth, the smile will touch her eyes.

Sounds easy. But at the very time you should be making people feel relaxed—in an environment most humans hate—you are often wigging-out on technical junk that should already be taken care of. (e.g. if I've ever taken your photograph, and you've seen me wince for no apparent reason, it's because I'm imagining the myriad things I have done to sabotage my own shoot, even after the test-shots.)

The internal dialog for me is often: "Okay, can the sensor on the SB800 actually see my pop-up when I stand in front of the softbox? (click) Yes. Shit, what about that slaved rim light? I put it on channel 4, right? (click) Yes. Wait, is f/8 is good enough depth of field for three rows of people? (fiddle) No. What about the shutter speed I picked? (peek) God. Is that rain cloud going to mess up my TTL?"

Meanwhile twenty people are thinking, "Why does he keep shooting even though the baby's crying?" It's because I am second-guessing the stuff I was confident with five minutes ago.

Some thoughts:

Have a rough plan and stick with it until there's good reason not to. Is depth-of-field paramount, or is freezing action? Should I use CLS or Pocket Wizards? Figure this out before you even get there.
Check ALL your batteries and memory cards before you get to the shoot. Top-up the batts, regardless.
Get there early—or, as Chris Rock says, "There is on-time and late. There is no 'early'."
Do on-location test shots with the exact lights and lenses that you plan to use for the real thing. Find a stand-in; preferably not an ADHD toddler with his pet cat.
If you're using wireless flash, make sure it's popping consistently from the camera position you will likely be shooting from, not just when you're in the perfect spot, shooting directly at the sensor at full power.
Don't trust your LCD.

This last one is kind of like the Q-Tip people saying "don't put Q-Tips in your ears". You're kidding, right? Well, not really. As much as the LCD draws your eye (with powers roughly akin to Swedish cleavage) you should be trusting:

Your eye.
You histograms.
Your blinkies.

Your eye. Look over the entire viewfinder when it's at your eye, not just the focus point. Pause and survey. Don't go full Uzi just because you think you should be ripping frames to impress the client. Now is the time to nail the cropping, to eliminate background distractions, to capture the smile before the blink happens.

Your histograms. If your light is nicely within the 0-255 swath, you're good. (Note: pixophiles will look at each separate channel, because the reds can be out-of-whack, but this is putting the 'anal' in analysis, in my opinion.)

Rule-of-thumb: err on the side of underexposed.

If histograms make you feel like you're failing calculus again, you can generally trust your blinkies. They're distracting, and they scare the tar out of anyone looking over your shoulder, but they're pretty reliable. And, of course, many perfectly-exposed images blink just because the sun is out.

Oh, apropos of nothing... try to avoid shooting a dozen portraits in a row... with a frickin raindrop on the lens. Because that's what happened last week when I got distracted by a crying baby, an approaching rainstorm, and a finicky CLS receiver.

A raindrop. My 6-year-old would have noticed it. Because he trusts rule #1.

So, your equipment is good. Your plan is sound. Everyone's waiting. Now what?

The one thing I have some trouble resisting—especially in a group setting—is the dreaded 'count-down'. "Okay. On three... two... one!" That's what amateurs say when they desperately want people to care about what comes next. What should come next is: a bunch of good-looking people, timing their smiles, eyelids and hands to be in the exact right place when the shutter trips at the unspoken 'zero'.

Except this never, ever, happens. What you get instead are exaggerated smiles, clenched fists and the odd first-grader who says, "Blast off!" Who could blame them, really.

If you can't resist the count-down, try tripping your shutter on "two". Then fire again... and then again. A deliberate screw-up often invites a natural laugh... which then becomes the shot you wanted in the first place. Full point.

For children, the easiest, crassest thing to do for a smile is use toilet-words. (Hey, a smile's a smile.) The best part is, you don't have to be around when little Datona is running around the house, saying "Butthead! Butthead! Butthead!" for the next two weeks. (Just make sure you're paid first.)

And if they're all adults, you may consider raising the profanity bar somewhat. I've always been too scared to try, but my imagination on swear words makes Eddie Murphy look like Eddie Haskell. Have to try that some time.

After I wipe my lens.

Help-Portrait wants photographers.

2009-08-28T10:07:00.004-04:00

There's no way I can talk about this project without drifting into "Hey, look what I'm doing!", but seriously... if you have a camera and even one pico-clue as to how to take a portrait, book off December 12th... just an hour or two will do it. I have a feeling this will be one of the most rewarding Christmas presents you give this year.

Help-Portrait is the brainchild of Jeremy Cowart (I have half his name and half of 1% of his talent. Coincidence?). He explains the whole thing way better than I, so just go. I'll be right here when you're done.

It's a simple, beautiful idea. I especially respect that he doesn't want to see the photos—God knows there will be a lot of them. This is not about creating buzz or blog-traffic. I have resisted mentioning it, because of that whole coattail-riding thing; but I finally decided that it was too important to not pass along.

Several weeks back, I hosted "Free Portrait Day" . It was a combination fund-raiser / practice session / publicity stunt... and, I got what I hoped for: Money for breast cancer research, solid photos for my book, and—as a solid bonus—a nice shout-out from David Hobby at Strobist. Help-Portrait is very different from that.

It's personal—between you and whomever you're helping. It's not going to clothe anyone, fill anyone's stomach, or cure cancer. But it just might give someone a smile on Christmas morning. There are worse things you could do.

The Dirty Dozen, with Jay Malone.

2009-08-24T13:11:00.006-04:00

[NOTE: this is a very non-photographic post. It's a re-print from my article in Chill Magazine—that free Beer Store thing in the metal rack.]

Jay Malone is one of Canada's finest stand-ups. I caught up with him and asked him a bit about the biz. Check out his page here .

10 favorite comedians performing today?
Louis CK, Brian Regan, Bill Burr, Jo Koy, Dave Chapelle, Patton Oswalt, Jim Gaffigan, Ellen Degeneres, Zack Galifanakas, and Derek Edwards.
Who are your five favorite Canadian comics?
Tim Steeves, Fraser Young, Debra Digiovanni, Derek Edwards, Ryan Belleville.
What is the best attribute of an aspiring comedian?
Thick skin.
What is the surest way to fail miserably at standup?
Ignoring audience reaction.
Have you ever wished you could have an intervention with a really bad comedian, to stop them from wasting their life?
At first I didn't care. I just figured, to each his own. Then I realized that they're taking stage time from people who "should" be doing it. And they're ruining it for the audience who have a bad experience and don't come back to the club! So yes, I do think that sometimes. But there might not be enough interventionists in the world!
The First Commandment of Stand-up is...
Know when you're jokes aren't working.
The biggest sin in stand-up is:
Blaming the audience when you're not doing well. (Though sometimes it IS them!)
Is there anyone out there who you feel is succeeding despite their lack of talent?
Of course there is, but they all have the other "attribute" that you need in comedy, 'persistence'. Otherwise known as 'moxy' or 'hustle', which I would argue is actually more important than being good on stage.
What's your favorite bit that you do?
"Penis Key."
How come Eddie Murphy and Jerry Seinfeld have so few albums when they're considered such essential stand-up artists?
They made a huge impact back when the number of albums was less important than the quality. Their albums were so great they helped raise standup out of the 'alternative' world and into the 'mainstream'. Today it seems it's more about "amount" of material than anything. Which is too bad but totally understandable. The internet is changing everything.
Are albums important any more?
Albums are still very important but are definitely less so for this generation. They still serve as a sign that you've made it. And also provide a lot of income for the comics. In addition they're a good way to do your material and then put it to bed. The album serves as a nice archive that will always be there. Something for fans to go back to. Whereas without shooting one, you're old material just disappears. However, with the internet exploding like it has, the album isn't the only way for a comic to get noticed or acquire fans anymore. You can simply shoot your own album nowadays.
What is up with airline peanuts?
Airlines serve peanuts??

Jay Malone hails from Kentville, Nova Scotia. He was the 2004 winner of the Homegrown Competition at Just for Laughs and is busy headlining clubs while pursuing a television career.

Stand-up and be counted.

2009-08-24T11:04:00.005-04:00

[NOTE: this is a very non-photographic post. It's a re-print from my article in Chill Magazine—that free Beer Store thing in the metal rack.]

"Rice is great when you're hungry and want two thousand of something."

-Mitch Hedberg

I'm pretty comfortable talking about things which I know nothing about — barbecuing, touch football, anniversary gifts —but I have mixed feelings about stand-up comedy. On the one hand, I know more than your average bear, having performed quite a bit. On the other hand, I kinda sucked wookie when I did it.

Straight up: I am not a comedian, nor have I ever been a member of the comedian party. I haven't held a microphone in almost four years and my career earnings amount to precisely sixty dollars and eight Molson Exports. (You could surpass both by gathering empties on the 401 for an afternoon.)

I first hit the stage in 1990 — and when I say 'hit', I mean impacted... cratered... still-looking-for-the-black-box kind of 'hit'. My bombing happened right before the Gulf War — and was about the scariest thing I've ever experienced. Getting married? Skydiving? Walk in the park. Making fifty complete strangers laugh? Well, as British actor Edmund Keene said on his death bed, "Dying is easy. Comedy is hard." I pretty much took the next decade off.

"The Four Levels of Comedy: Make your friends laugh, Make strangers laugh, Get paid to make strangers laugh, and Make people talk like you because it's so much fun."

-Jerry Seinfeld

Even when I got back to it, rare was the month that I did four sets . That is not enough for comedic mastery. It's like doing 100 pushups a day... once a year. The equivalent of trimming four Christmas trees and implying that you're somehow a lumberjack. Real comedians work every day. You gotta write, edit, practice, promote, and perform all the time. Seinfeld did stretches in the 70's where he'd go eighteen months without missing a single day on stage. And remember, he wasn't getting paid back then.

Don't get me wrong; you absolutely have to get up there — even if you're not in it for the long haul. If people say you're funny and there's a 'new talent' night in your town, put down the damn Wiimote for five minutes and write some gags. Even if nobody says you're funny, but you feel the itch, pick up the phone and leave a message at the club. Just remember, when they finally call you back, life is going to get very strange.

"Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things. "

-George Carlin

Once you're committed, people will treat you differently. The closest analogy would be if you happened to be a pretty good cook, then suddenly decided to open a restaurant. Friends and relatives who once raved about your culinary prowess now look upon you with equal parts worry and pity. "Dude, you braise a mean coq au vin, but your own bistro? Good luck with all that."

Another unwelcome development is that any time you're funny, people will think you're "doing a bit". The worst part is: you usually are. Then comes the unsolicited material: "You should talk about that time we stole the lobster tank from Mandarin... What about doing a joke about Dad's bed-wetting... You should lip-sync the Mighty Mouse theme, like Andy Kaufman!"

Which brings us to the greatest handicap in stand-up — that which is also the core of its beauty. It's you, and only you. Musicians can play cover songs well into a professional career, but comedians are never, ever allowed borrow someone else's material. This is why a guy on stage might say, "I'd like to do a little something by Eddie Money," but will never say, "I'd like to do a little something by Eddie Murphy."

Trust me — the emcee will know you stole it, and you'll never work at that club again. You'd be better off expounding Micheal Richards's views on African-Americans. Yeah... maybe don't do that, either.

"The good thing about being bisexual is that it doubles your chance of a date on Saturday night."

-Woody Allen

If you're a young, single guy who's considering a life in comedy, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, you have no one at home who will get upset when you're hitting the clubs every night. The bad news is, it's a terrible way to meet women.

Women in the audience either come with a big, jealous boyfriend or a pack of co-workers who don't want your company. Also, since most comics are already uber-neurotic, consider the implications of two of them dating. All comedians share a trait called neediness. The need to make people laugh, the need to forge a bond with an audience, and the need to need to kill one other when they go out for more than two dates.

"I believe in the institution of marriage, and I intend to keep trying till I get it right."

-Richard Pryor

If you're a married guy, there's also good and bad news. The good news is, you already have lots of material to work with. The bad news is, you'll be out a lot, honing your craft. Here's a tip: if you're trying to sell this lifestyle to your significant other, don't describe it as a 'low-paying job', but as a 'free hobby'. Hopefully, your wife will be supportive. If not, you'll at least have a whole lot more material.

"Why should I do anything for posterity? What has posterity ever done for me?"

-Groucho Marx

So you wrote some gags; you practiced; you did the show. Maybe you even killed. But, hopefully, you bombed. Hopefully? Yes, because the only thing more dangerous than winning the first time you go to a casino, is kicking butt the first time you get on stage. You're going to have some tough nights, and if it happens sooner rather than later, it will save you a lot of future anxiety.

Oh, and memo to friends and family. The following is not a compliment: "You're brave. I could never do that." What you're actually saying is, "If that was half as painful to perform as it was to watch, why didn't you just strip naked and smack your ass with a rolled-up newspaper for five minutes?"

It's not a life for everyone, but it's definitely a rush. Even if you only do it once, you'll be ahead of all those guys who die, never knowing that comedy was hard.

10 tips for aspiring comics :

Do it often. It's easier to nail your material and gain confidence with repetition.

Practice with the TV and the radio on. Learn to overcome distraction.

Figure out which way to twist the mic stand, before you're on stage.

Instead of cue cards, jot important words on your water bottle with a Sharpie.

Don't wear a funny t-shirt. It risks topping your material.

If you're nervous, look at people's hair instead of their eyes (unless Mr. T is in the audience, in which case you have bigger problems).

You shouldn't have to swear. It's like a "ninja using a gun".

When heckled, tell your mom to ease up a little.

Record your act, then smash the tape-machine when you realize how wimpy your voice is.

That blinking red light does not mean "fries are up".

Seamless, not peerless.

2009-08-18T13:21:00.010-04:00

Note: This post is mostly for my own benefit—as a checklist for my next session involving white seamless backdrops.

Get a lot of headroom. Then get some more.
Bring a friend... anybody... to help carry tileboard, seamless roll, and to help raise the backdrop crossbar. It's a real pain, otherwise.
Get far away from groups, to effectively maximize the width of your backdrop.
Use the reflective floor, and clean it right on the spot! Don't wait 'til post to erase those scuff-marks.
Pull subjects far enough away from the seamless to minimize backdrop reflection on them—unless you want it.

If you're doing a whole batch of shots in one way, use a grey-card off the top to calibrate your white balance.
If you can at all help it, gobo the #&$% out of the backdrop strobes. It spills big time.
Although I like primes, a quality zoom lens is handy for quickly switching between singles and group shots.
Go M on your camera, and lock it down once you've thoroughly nailed the test-exposures.
If you're only using one key light, get someone to hold a bounce on the other side for the group shots.
Overexposure is the enemy of good skin-tone. My last session went a little sunburn-y because of this. Nothing a little PS can't fix, but still... it's a good idea to watch your histograms—every channel, preferably.

Pricing your photography.

2009-07-30T14:17:00.056-04:00

"How much should I charge a client for a shoot?"

Asking this question of a fellow photographer usually provokes the same reaction as asking someone at a Grateful Dead concert, "How should I dance to this?"

Because, although most Deadheads appear to be dancing the exact same way, they are—believe it or not—grooving a bit differently. (Also, if you gotta ask, you probably have no business dancing in the first place.)

My short answer is...

The maximum amount the client will pay... provided they are still happy next week.

Most pros will push the first half of that equation: "Don't race for the bottom", "Our craft is worth a lot of money", etc... etc... But there's something about a guy combing clients out of his hair, telling you not to "give it away". We all appreciate the philosophy, but at the same time... they're not the ones who are trolling friends' birthday parties, casually inquiring if anyone needs family portraits done. And I'm guessing Annie Leibovitz does not spend her evenings hashing out print-packages with clients and arguing over who gets the negatives.

So, seriously, whudyah charge?

There are no numbers here. Just my process. It's likely different than yours, but we may have common ground. Hell, I've just started learning. If you have the magic formula, then don't hesitate to use that comment button down there.

Keeping in mind that I do have a day job—meaning, I can be picky—this is my interior monologue when someone asks me to shoot for them:

Have I done this type of shoot before? Generally, there's no way you should be charging someone the "going rate" to shoot their wedding, if you've never done one before. (Another good reason to narrow your niche. If you're "the guy who shoots anything and everything", you'll never be able to charge top dollar in one field.)

On the other hand... if you kick ass in one area, you've probably got a fighting chance. As a friend of mine reminded me, "They're buying your style, not your experience." Bottom line: if Joe McNally offered to shoot your son's bar mitzvah, would you turn him down?
What is the "going rate", anyway? Pick up the phone! Ask a pro, then ask someone closer to your level of experience. Pretend you're a client and relay the same information that your client has given you. Somewhere in there is a reasonable middle ground, I'd reckon. More homework means more money and more gigs.
Do I need the money? If you're living on Ramen noodles and are on the verge of pawning your D3, who am I to tell you to back off? Quote them $10,000! They might go for it. Then again, they might resent your impersonation of a pro, and trash your name when the prints come back. Word of mouth works two ways—but always fast.
Do I need the experience? Paging John Harrington. If a cheapo shoot is actually going to open doors for you in that field—and it won't— you might consider bargain basement pricing... at first. I heard of a guy who reno'd a friend's living room for dirt cheap. The catch? If anyone asked, the friend was to quote a much higher price to the future client. Sounds like an urban myth to me.
Do I need the portfolio pics? If you don't need better pics in your portfolio, I tip my hat to you. Now run along and get your yacht polished. Seriously, though... I'm not saying that you should work cheap to fill your book, but the better your book, the less likely it is that you'll feel compelled to work cheap.
Is it for friends or family? If you take yourself seriously as a professional, they will understand if you charge—but there are times when the best gift to give is your snaps. If it makes them happy, gives you solid experience and maybe even gets your name out there—and not just as the "free guy"—everybody wins (except the other photographer who isn't getting paid).
Is it a charity? Ditto the above, but you don't have to endure your Uncle Craig's off-colour jokes in a house that smells like Cinnamon Air Wick.

The point is, only you can decide what you're worth—with a little help from your clients and colleagues, of course. Research and top-ten lists are only going to get you so far. Push your luck a little, and you may find you can charge more than you had hoped.

Reality check: if you get shot down three quotes in a row, you're asking too much. The good news is, you now have the second book-end to what your pricing should be. (The first bookend is "zero": if no one has ever questioned your pricing structure, you're charging too little. Just a hunch.)

Whatever happens, keep shooting. No one ever got good (or rich) waiting by the phone. Except maybe Annie.

Buying used gear...

2009-07-30T11:39:00.009-04:00

With the announcement of Nikon's new 70-200mm VRII, I instantly thought to myself, "Hey. Good time to pick up the old model!" Then I remembered the last time I bought used gear. Sigh.

If I had a tail, it would be between my legs.

I goofed big time, and wanted to share the pain, if only to save others from my error.

This is a re-print of a posting I made on Flickr a while back:

I found a used lens on Kijiji. (Nikon 20mm f/2.8)

Although I think of myself as pretty astute on camera gear, I goofed on this purchase. Even after quizzing the seller methodically by e-mail and phone, I was assured several times that the lens was in "great condition".

I saw the lens, I tried the lens, I liked the lens. I paid for the lens. It didn't come with a filter, but the optics were good. I noticed some back-focusing issues, but I corrected this in AF Fine Tune.

But I didn't check the iris.
Newman!

After shooting indoors at f/2.8, with good results, I shot outside and couldn't understand for the life of me why my camera kept overexposing in a huge thermonuclear fashion. The iris was locked at f/22 and I was on Aperture priority f/8 at the time.

Only when I got indoors did I remove the lens, unlock it and twist the ring. No movement. Zero.

I contacted the seller, who told me (quite rightly) that I freely purchased the gear after inspecting it and giving it a thumbs up. He was unaware of any issues, and - to be fair - the problem could have occurred after I bought it.

(And monkeys might fly out of my butt after I submit this topic.)

I am taking this lens to Nikon tomorrow and am going to hold my breath. Please learn from my stupidity.

*Note: I will not identify the seller here. If you're interested, please write me.

"The first guy to say 'caveat emptor' was probably bleeding from the a$$."
-George Carlin

[Update: Nikon fixed it. It works. In total, I spent the equivalent of a new one under warrantee. Live. Learn.]

Apollo 11... Starbuck 0

2009-07-16T10:46:00.015-04:00

Some thoughts on the 40th Anniversary of that really expensive footprint...

I did a speech on Apollo 11 in grade six. Only ten years had elapsed, but it already seemed older than Dick Clark. Oh yeah, playing a cassette tape of the audio trimmed one minute off my script. Yesss!
Bonus! (also in spring of 1979): The final episode of the original Battlestar Galactica airs. In it, Apollo and Starbuck narrowly miss receiving transmission of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Would have been creepy for Apollo to hear his name on the radio, huh?
I'd watch the original footage any day of the week over Apollo 13. It was a fun movie and all, but not something I need to see again; mostly because the CGI was anticlimactic. Remember that fiery separation ring between the 1st and 2nd stage? Not even close, Ron.
Hey, hoax-guys. How's that life-long virginity playing out for ya?
When Michael Collins was orbiting the Moon, he became the world record-holder for the furthest one human has been removed from other humans. Until Michael Richards took the title several years later.
I know it was slightly more than just a jinjoistic whzzing-contest, but I still don't think I could look a Darfurian refugee in the eye and say, "You know, we played golf up there? Pretty amazing, huh?"
Neil... how's that life-long "sex-with-anybody-I-want" thing playing out for ya?
Umm, Ken Rockwell... easy on the "we-haven't-accomplished-much-since-Apollo" thing. You do realize you're making a living on that "internet" thing, right?
It still kinda bugs my ass that the mission was named after a Sun-god, but I guess we're never landing there.
I love the fact that the boys left their dusty moon-boots outside the LEM before going inside and taking off. Their moms must have been proud.

Take the plunge? Or play it safe?

2009-07-14T14:01:00.011-04:00

"When you marry your mistress, you create a job vacancy."

-James Goldsmith

Should you drop everything to pursue your creative dream? Should you just keep it on the side and play it safe? These are two sides of a question most photographers ponder — maybe less so with the recession — but it's right up there.

Whatever your take on it, there's an ever-growing pool of good photographers out there. Some have decided that the best way in is to cannonball, while many of us would rather dip our toes. [Bonus: if you were blown away by how clumsy that metaphor was, I humbly direct you to this.]

Here's a personal example of diving vs. dipping:

For a straight-up portrait shoot (and this would have to be for a pretty good friend), I would charge about $200. That gets them a one-hour shoot and, say, ten cleaned-up images. It's a lot of schlepping, a sizable amount of post, and the whole process is riven with performance-related stress.

It's also usually a lot of fun, and I very rarely want to maim the client — hey, he is a good friend, right? If I'm really lucky and the planets align, I might end up with a portfolio shot and, who knows, maybe another word-of-mouth gig.

On the other hand...

I make roughly that, five times a week at my "day job" — just for showing up and not stealing all the Post-It notes. It's rewarding work that is creative and fun; and I'm very good at it. Sometimes I can even sneak in a blog entry at lunch :)

Same $200. Buys the same tripod. The difference is that I can count on one but not the other; even if I devoted myself to the "dream job" 24/7.

Quitting my 9-to-5 and diving into photography would make me utterly dependent on the success of that endeavor, while fairly ensuring I could not return to my old gig if things got tough. There's no do-overs in most careers — at least none that give you your seniority and dental plan back.

Which is not to say you should wear a leg-iron your whole life, even if it's velvet-lined.

Take Zack Arias, working what I have to believe was a dead-end job at Kinkos... because his budding photo career took a jog into an alley and got whacked with a lead pipe. Did he give up his dream? Not even close. He shook it off, tied up his shoes, and ran right back out there; succeeding in a way he probably never dreamed possible. Was he scared? I'm guessing yes; but as Matt Damon says in Rounders...

"You can't lose what you don't put in the middle... but you can't win much, either."

You don't have to work for a living... you can live for a living. If you've got the drive, and you've done honest homework which indicates that you should take the plunge, do it! Who am I to stop you? There's nothing that says you have to do the sure thing your whole life... other than your parents, of course.

But I'm generally the guy on the dock, asking how the water is.

Call me scared, but when you have a wife and two kids in the middle of a recession, you're gambling with more than one person's lifestyle when you roll the entrepreneurial dice.

And it's not like I'm clawing my eyes out in the morning, contemplating my job. If you've got a decent source of income, which allows you solid time with your family and friends, with a few hours here and there to feed your creative side, there's nothing wrong with playing it safe. Some of the most creative people I know, like Sam Javanrouh at topleftpixel, have solid day jobs, and still manage to bring it every day as a photographer.

So, what am I trying to say? Do what's right for you, and your family. Go for it. Stay with it. Just do it. But above all, keep working at it. Because that is the true crime. Not regretting what you could have been had you rolled the dice, but regretting what you could have been had you done the work.

[If you want to read a much better, much bigger version of what I'm trying to say, go here. It's a long read, and if you lose interest after two minutes, it's probably not your bag. I'll see you at the lake.]

Free Portrait Day

2009-07-08T15:07:00.035-04:00

[Update: Having received so much positive feedback from Strobist readers, I plan to have way more videos in the near future. Stay tuned. -Jeremy, Aug 25, 2009]

Once again, a charity shoot has given me an excuse to try something new — something I wouldn't have just blundered into with a client, and something I couldn't have just winged on my own.

[Note: the idea behind "Free Portrait Day" was explained in an earlier post, so I won't repeat myself to ~~all my~~ both of my readers. The deal was: contribute what you can, say cheese, then download your full-res portrait in a week. Other than a wee bit of Lightroom, the pictures are as-is.]

The event was the Party in the Park — an outdoor funfest with bake sales, big bands, and bouncy castles. My portable 'studio' was one of several fund-raising booths dedicated to the Mimico Moms. The 'Moms' include my wife, Michelle Sale, and friends of ours who are raising money for breast cancer research in honour of our friend, Jane, who died on Christmas Day, 2008.

[Update: The Moms tell me there's a bit more left to raise; so if you haven't maxed out your credit card... click away.]

The 'studio' consisted of a rented backdrop kit, three speedlights and a D700. (Now that I have the Kung Fu grip, I've been itching to shoot as many long portraits as possible. Don't tell her, but my wife thinks it came with the camera.)

It didn't occur to me until afterwards, but there's something a little wrong about turning a perfectly good greenspace into Sears Portrait Studio; but once I got the idea, it never occurred to me to do otherwise. Also, it was nice having enough headspace for once in my life.

(To add another layer of weird, consider this shot: two soldiers dressed in woodland camo, standing on a studio backdrop... in a field of grass and trees.)

The set-up video is here if you want a quick walk-through. Try to ignore the blaring music. It does no justice to the remarkably good high school band that was performing that day.

Party in the Park from Jeremy Sale on Vimeo.

Subjects were lit by a Lumiquest III softbox in front, a gobo'd SB on either side (positioned behind and aimed slightly forward to get reflected light on the sides of their faces, rather than rim or fill.) The pop-up flash provided a bit of on-axis fill, too.

All in all, a good turnout. The weather co-operated and I wasn't put out one nickel, due to the generosity of Headshots, the local photo rental place. Not much I can say about these guys that doesn't involve the word 'awesome'.

One thing to keep in mind, if you decide to do an unsolicited portrait shoot: most people hate having their picture taken — even for free. It helps to have samples of your work on display, to prove that you're actually good. It also helps if your wife — or any other female friend — is on-hand to coax people over to the muslin. Might have been the trench-coat I was wearing, who knows.

Another thing I found out by sheer chance? If you have the time to review photos with your subject and delete the ones they hate — right on the spot — people get noticeably more relaxed. In addition to making your editing that much easier, this also helps draw more people to the booth, because there's always someone shouting, "Wow. Look at this one, Karen!"

Because this was also a research shoot, I'm not beating myself up on the minor flaws. The set-up was exactly how I pictured it, and I got some shots that I'm proud of. Again, having unlimited room for a backdrop has completely spoiled me for all future gigs that will take place in someone's cluttered den.

Things I would change next time:

Would put 'studio' completely in the shade. It wasn't a big deal, but the first few shots had sunlight hitting the backdrop from behind, and a bit of lens flare.
Would have used my bigger softbox, but I went in figuring that any wind would have made me insane. Turns out, there was none.
I kept opening up my shutter speed to 1/60 without knowing it. I figure it was when I was reviewing shots by spinning the back wheel, and not being in 'review' mode at the time.
I think I would ease off on the sidelight intensity next time, and give more thought to how easily group shots get compromised by people blocking each other's light.
Cardinal Sin: I completely forgot about my model releases as soon as things got busy. I may live to regret this, but I'm tracking them down. Yikes.

Things that were awesome:

Raised good money for a great cause.
Pre-existing party = costumes and make-up!
Got major practice with a set-up I had never used before.
Got great neighbourhood exposure and handed out a whack of business cards — to people who actually wanted them.
Got way more comfortable trying coax performances out of people.
Got a few killer portfolio shots. Thank you Gene Simmons, Jr.
Made friends and neighbours very happy when they got a peek at the LCD, and then got to download the real McCoy less than a week later. They're all here, if you're interested.

Finally, a tip of the hat to the Strobist community for their many charity-related projects (see "Strobist Boot Camp II" for the current assignment). As much as he gives out for free, David Hobby is quick to nudge us photographers into paying it forward. Props, Mr. Hobby.

(* as I explained to prospective clients, the portrait was free — the privilege of ever seeing it costs money.)

Recent charity shoot:

White Seamless at Lobsterfest.

Hike for Hospice.
Lumiquest III "review"

Weegee speaks.

2009-06-24T09:05:00.003-04:00

"...one of those accents you don't hear so much in New York anymore: part Austro-Hungarian immigrant by way of the Lower East Side and part Elmer Fudd."

I find this link funny for many reasons.

I've never heard Weegee speak (never wanted to, truth be told).
After listening for about three seconds, I immediately heard Dr. Strangelove.

You'd better not pout !

2009-06-23T08:24:00.010-04:00

It's Free Portrait Day!

If you're in the neighbourhood this evening, come check out the Party In The Park in Mimico and get a down and dirty portrait from your truly. It's free... for me to take it. If you actually want it, you'll have to donate $10 to breast cancer research. Hey, fair's fair.

The "photo booth" consists of one rented backdrop kit (courtesy of Headshots in Toronto), and a mess of speedlights — a nod to Strobist Boot Camp II.

The idea came from a great posting I read on The Online Photographer, where Scott Streble spent a day taking free portraits of people, many of whom who were recently downsized.

Anyway, come on by, look for the flash pops, and lay down a sawbuck for the sisters.

UPDATE: due to strike-related snafu, the party has been relocated just north of the original location (Mimico Memorial Park) — to the field behind John English Middle School. You'll see signs.