The photo doesn’t show enough of the lake to make it apparent, but when I say that the water is low, I mean it’s low.  As in, there were at least 30 feet of dry, cracked mudflat between the shoreline and the edge of the water.  It’s been an unusually hot summer in PA, with far too little rainfall, and it’s becoming very apparent all over.  Even my local ponds are showing water levels far lower than I ever imagined seeing.  There’s no doubt that this is putting stress on the wildlife, although you wouldn’t necessarily know it looking at these guys.I’m going to step away from the wildlife/nature aspect for a moment and comment instead on the education center itself.  I found about about CCEEC from a PA wildlife guide; I visited the center’s website and was very impressed by the presentation and impression it gave.  It was over an hour away, but I was excited to go.  Nature trails, a bird blind, an active bird feeding station – all elements that seemed to promise a good time.

The sad fact is that when I got there, I was disappointed.  With the exception of the raptor mews – which really are excellent – the center failed to live up to its billing.  The bird feeding station was a line of feeders alongside their main building, all of which were empty.  No feed, no feeding birds.  The nature trails?  Rather nice, at least for as far as you could follow them.  But being unmarked, several times I followed a trail around a bend only to have it fade into the forest.

Add to that, most of the birdhouses I saw along the trail were falling apart, missing sides, clearly uninhabitable.  And most egregious of all, there were no maps.  None.  Not online, and not available outside the building (which is only open limited hours).  So not only are the trails unmarked, but you can’t even get a guide to carry with you.  Bizarre.

I hate to rag on places like this.  I really do.  I firmly believe that environmental education centers provide an excellent, and much needed, service to the public.  People should be able to learn more about nature because people really should care more about nature.  If you’re going to care about something, you can’t be ignorant about it.  And what better way than a center that brings in students and community members and families and teaches them about the wonders of the natural world.  But for the love of all that is good, why do so many centers these days seem so, well…lackluster.

This is the third time this year that I’ve visited a wildlife center and found it dilapidated.  I know that the economy is terrible, and I know that such centers usually rely on some sort of public funding.  But you’re telling me that they can’t put some blazes along the trail?  That some local business wouldn’t donate use of their copier to make trail maps?  I find it hard to believe.

Or, in the event that it’s the truth of the matter, I just find it terrible.

The cavalier attitude that Americans have about their nature is abysmal.  It’s unbelievable.  And it’s painfully embarrassing.  Whereas we once had crusaders proudly flying the banner of environmentalism, now we’re all too happy to despoil it, rape it, and not give a damn.  Things like the Gulf oil spill debacle are horrifying enough, but to see the same apathy on a local level is just insulting.  Chambers of commerce work themselves into a frenzy over tourism boosters; you can find a 5k run for any number of diseases – but nobody is willing to support environmental education?

What the hell is wrong with us?

Having given it some careful thought, I think it happens because of a lack of comfort on the scene.

Consider that it doesn’t matter if your a photographer or a subject, you’ve doubtlessly had the feeling – you’re out taking photos (or having your photo taken) and you’re just not relaxed, not at ease.  You’re worried about looking uptight, worried that the smile is too forced, worried that the whole shoot is going to end up bad, and pretty soon your self-confidence has packed it’s bags and left, and you just want the session to be over.But what went wrong in the first place?

For the subject, all it usually takes is the idea of being in front of a camera.  Face it, unless you’re a supermodel, you’re probably not very comfortable having your photo taken.  A photographer pushing a honking huge lens in your face and telling you to “say cheese” brings flashbacks of your wacky aunt at your 3rd birthday party.  Terrifying flashbacks.  You get tense, you plaster a forced smile on your face, and after five minutes it feels painfully frozen that way.

Having the photog tell you to relax is hardly relaxing.  But you need to – you need to trust the photographer, trust that he’s able to make you look good.  You hired him, after all, so that trust was implied at the beginning of the relationship – not it’s up to you to see it through.  Do what he asks you, even if it seems a little silly.  Let the walls down.  Help him make a portrait of you.

As photographers, we need to really focus on that word “relationship.”  Because that’s what a successful session with someone needs to be: a relationship, where they open up and expose a bit of their true self to us, and in return we translate that self into meaningful images.  But if we’re too wrapped up in f-stops and shutter speeds, if we forget to do out part in forging that relationship, who can blame the subject for locking up.

When I’m behind the camera, I’m all too painfully aware that most people aren’t comfortable having their photo taken.  True, you get the occasional ham who is completely in their element.  But most people aren’t.  It takes a lot of conscious effort to help them feel comfortable.  And it’s not always easy – especially if things aren’t going quite right on the camera side.

Anytime I’m working with a subject, I take Joe McNally’s advice to heart: I spew an unending stream of dialogue.  I say any fool thing that comes into my head.  I make faces and get animated.  I comment on the weather, I tell little stories, and most importantly, I keep directing positive comments at the subject.  ”You’re doing great!  Yeah, there we go, just like that.  Perfect.  Wow, that one was great!”

It doesn’t matter exactly what I’m saying, the point is, I’m talking to the subject.  And I’m listening to what they’re saying in response.  I’m trying to forge that relationship, trying to get them to lower their guard, to elicit a few genuine smiles, a few laughs.  It’s almost as if you have to make the camera secondary; the shoot becomes about interacting with the subject, and the camera just happens to be in your hands, like an afterthought, shooting frames as they come.

Most of the time it actually works.  And once the walls are down, you find that the creativity comes back.  I pretty much figure that the first 30 shots of any shoot are pretty likely to be useless.  That’s the warm-up phase, the time when you’re getting the subject comfortable with the shoot.  After that, that’s when the magic happens.  I may not include a single shot from the first pose & setup, or even the second.  It all depends on how things go.  But the important thing is, I walk into the shoot knowing that, and I don’t become discouraged by it.

Sometimes it’s even harder – sometimes you don’t get that perfect shot until the very last one.

Who cares!

All that matters is that you got it, that the relationship was formed, and the subject goes home happy.

I don’t consider myself political – I have almost no use for politics and strictly try to avoid them whenever possible.  They don’t make for good conversation, nor for good peace of mind – any such discussion only brings to light the failures of the system, and soon after, most people’s inability to politely debate a topic.

But like it or not, conservation has become – and maybe always was – a highly political field.  Or at the very least, it is highly entwined in politics.  After all, we depend on government administration for much of our conservation efforts.  And unfortunately, conservation does seem to have become a lame duck of late (pardon the pun).Since childhood, I’ve had a deep love of nature and science.  It comes from growing up in rural Vermont, amid a great deal of nature, with wood and field right out my back door.  And more importantly, from growing up with parents and family who all had a healthy respect for nature, and who were only too happy to share their passion and knowledge with me.

But still, I’d never considered myself a “conservationist.”  That seems to be one of those highly political words.  It brings to mind the likes of Rachel Carson, John Muir, and John MacDonald, among many others.  Interestingly enough, most of the big names in conservation seem to be artists – and I suppose that is only natural, as those of an artistic vision are more likely to recognize the wonder and beauty in the world and want to cherish it.  But just as interesting is the fact that all such people seem to end up with some political contact.

So perhaps wading into the swamp is inevitable if you want to make a difference?

Except now, in this current day, conservationism really has become so entwined in politics that it has been corrupted.  Like a great knot, it’s hard to see how you’d untangle the two – and in the process, so much of conservation’s support is now handled by the very forces that imperil it.  Do we want companies like BP contributing money towards conservation efforts, while at the same time readily dismissing safety protocols that could avert environmental catastrophe?  Or should we unquestioningly take their blood money, because we need all the help we can get?

It seems that we’re damned either way.

And nobody is yelling about it any more.  In the past people yelled.  There was outrage.  But where is the outrage today?  We as a society are happy to dedicate our attention to Lindsey’s newest prison sentence, to Brad and Angelina, to the latest church scandal.  But we simply don’t seem to care about the destruction that goes on each hour to the world around us.

Bring it up, and you are countered by the force of the almighty dollar.  Temporary jobs are more important than lasting clean air.  And the justification is: “Let the world fix itself.  It always does.”

Well, yes, in the past, the world “fixed” itself.  Although it might do us good to consider that those fixes involved natural disasters.  Now we’re adding man-made disasters faster than we can keep up with them, but somehow the world is supposed to keep up?  We’re exempt from having to help?  We are actually so arrogant as a species to allow that we’re the only form of life on the planet important enough to save?

So what happens when we’ve killed off everything else, killed off the seas and the lakes and the lands?  Just how are we supposed to survive then, alone on a poisoned world, with the natural filters and mechanisms destroyed?

If this comes across as disjointed and rambling, then I apologize.  It’s not yet all clear in my own mind, and it’s certainly a hard idea to express in whole.  But there are some parts that I do know for sure.

I know that we need to stop being lazy in the way we live.  We need to make a conscious effort to conserve resources.  To reduce the amount that we use at home & work each day.  One at a time, in little ways, it does add up.

I know that we need to discover some humility, to admit that we’re royally screwed up, and most of all, to stop thinking that as the top link in the food chain, we are free from responsibility for our actions.

I know that we need to find out outrage, and voice it.

And I very much suspect that it’s time to start thinking of myself as a conservationist.  To wade into the swamp.  All of us should – all of us who take our relaxation and recreation in nature, who find solace and inspiration in the wild.  If conservation has lost it’s edge, it is because we have grown lazy and let it grow dull.

That needs to end.  We need to whet it.  We need to regain that edge.

So in an effort to clear out some of that pollution, here’s a list of 6 common photography fallacies that I’ve come across and would like to clear up. (And you can trust me, ’cause I’m obviously not a crackpot!)

1.) f/6400 will give me super sharp photos with deep depth of field!

Not quite. This is a common fallacy, one that I fell into for a long time. But it turns out that cranking your lens’ aperture down as tight as it’ll go isn’t the best recipe for sharp photos. True, the smaller your aperture, the more depth of field you’ll have; at f/22, pretty much everything from here to the horizon is going to be in focus.

But that doesn’t mean it’s sharp. In fact, it won’t be. Most lenses are sharpest at about f/8-f/11; beyond f/11 they start to get softer because of diffraction. If you want to read up on the physics of diffraction, Google it – for our purposes here, just remember that after a certain point, stopping down does more harm than good. (Do some test shots with your favorite lenses to find out where this point is for each.) 

2.) High ISOs will always show too much noise!

High ISOs have a bad rap that they don’t quite deserve. Yes, if you take your 50D and crank it up to ISO 12,000 there is going to be lots of ugly noise. But if you learn to use it right, high ISO can be your friend. The trick is having enough light – I’ve shot well-lite scenes at ISO 1600 on my old 400D and you’d never know that it was at it’s ISO limit.

Most high ISO photos look noisy/bad because they’re not properly exposed – the photog cranked the ISO up in a desperate attempt to get the shot, but didn’t quite make it. Simply, if you underexpose a shot at ISO 100 and then try to pull it up in post, it’ll look bad.

3.) Shooting in RAW will let me fix it later!

I hear this one a lot. There’s a misconception among the uninformed that shooting RAW gives you the ability to “fix” anything later. It doesn’t. RAW gives you extra options, more leeway – but it’s not a miracle file. Most of the literature says that RAW files have adjustable by 2 stops without significant degradation. But that’s for a perfectly exposed photo – anything else, and 2 stops is pushing it. (I usually adjust the exposure of my RAW photos by less than 1/2 stop.)

The answer here is to just get it right in-camera. Take the time to learn your gear, learn photography, and do it properly. Forget that it’s digital and shoot as if you were shooting film, where every frame counts, because every frame is costing you money. Do it right – then, if you need to make a small adjustment to get it perfect, you have that ability in RAW.

4.) You don’t need to post-process digital photos!

FAIL! Every time I hear this, I want to suggest a Cat-Scan to the “photographer” who said it. I met a “pro” a little while back who launched into a 5-minute tirade against Photoshop & post-processing, claiming that none of it was necessary and was just used by hacks to ruin photos.

I held my tongue, but what I really wanted to ask this guy was, “So back in the day, when you did darkroom printing, you threw the negative into the enlarger and made a print? And that was it? No contrast filters, no dodging & burning, no adjustments to the chemical solutions?” I don’t believe that for a second – even the crappy photo machines at CVS adjust your prints for color and contrast.

Photoshop takes skill to master – or even be competent in. But not post-processing your photos is, to be blunt, half-assing it. Almost every photo taken will benefit from a slight curves adjustment, at the very least. Don’t over saturate the colors, don’t make the sky electric blue – but please, do finish the photo the way it deserves.

5.) I’m new to DSLRs; my first lens should be a super-telephoto!

I think every first-time SLR owner falls into this trap. You buy a camera with the kit lens and immediately want a telephoto zoom. “I’ve got to have REACH!” you say. Then you finally get that zoom and realize that it was dumb – what you really needed was a wide angle.

Most beginner/hobby shooters will benefit much more from a good wide-angle or standard range lens than they will from a telephoto. Telephoto lenses are difficult to use – they require patience and solid technique, and even then they will frustrate you. They also tend to be slower lenses, in terms of aperture, and will only work well in good light. Do yourself a favor and buy a good starter lenses, like the Tamron 28-75 f/2.8, or the Canon 17-40 f/4 and Canon 50mm f/1.8. Then, when you’re comfortable with photography – and know what you actually want to capture way over there – start looking at telephotos.

6.) More megapixels = better!

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again – this is a MARKETING PLOY. More megapixels does not equal better photos, or a better camera, or a better anything. These days, most people never make prints of their photos at all – and even if you are making 4×6 and 8×10 prints, a 6 megapixel camera will make lovely prints. A 15 megapixel camera won’t make a better 4×6 print. What it will do is cost you a lot of money and use up huge amounts of memory on your computer (on my 7D, each photo is around 22MB – that’s big).

In technical terms, consider that they’re adding more pixels, but the overall size of the sensor remains the same – the pixels just get denser. Denser pixels can mean more noise, more heat – things that aren’t necessarily great news. So don’t fall for the marketing ploy – 10MP is plenty; 12MP is more than enough. 98% of photogs don’t need 22MP. (Note: this applies to crop sensors; full frame sensors are physically larger, so can accommodate a higher megapixel count before becoming too dense.)

It’s a little random, but I started thinking about it the other day and it stuck with me; I hardly ever review my own work.  Which seems rather strange, since it’s work I created for my own enjoyment and to share with others.  But even if a photo is lucky enough to appear here in a post, a week later it’s off the front page and doomed to spend eternity in the dusty bowels of my external HD, along with thousands of others.

Why?

If I were to kick the bucket tomorrow, I have to wonder if anyone would even know where to look for my photo archive – or how to access it and enjoy my work.  There’s a great amount of my last five years tied up in those bytes, a lot of really good memories, and even a few not so good ones.  And I’m starting to realize that I don’t let any of it out enough.  What’s the point of chasing the light to make great images – images that you’re happy to have made – if you never do anything with them?

So here’s a little promise to myself: I’m going to make a better effort to share my work.  That means sitting down with my girlfriend and actually showing her places I’ve been, things I’ve seen, memories I’ve made into pictures.  That means sharing the same with my family next time I see them, instead of just sending a couple of files here and there after a shoot.  It may even mean making one of those cheesy Powerpoint slideshows to send around for the holidays – a “My Year in Photos,” if you will.

This is a good thing for three reasons.  1 – because after all the effort and hours I’ve put into making images, they should be shared, and let out into the light (well, at least the really good ones).  2 – because it will make me review my own work, which is the perfect way to see how I’ve progressed, and where I still need to work.  3 – because the more work I share with the world, the more likely it is that someone will want me to make images for them.

So really, how often do you share/review your own work?

But what the hell, I still built it myself!  And here’s how – photos and instructions after the break:

The parts list is modest, to say the least.  The primary body of the mount is .5 cup sized Rubbermaid Easy Find Lids container.  (Yes, you read that right.)  I searched high and low for a square piece of material suitable for a body frame, and this is all I was able to come up with.  And I’ll admit right now, it is by no means the perfect solution, nor is it one that I’m likely to stick with.  But for the moment, it works.

The Rubbermaid container is joined by 3x coldshoes and a collection of misc. hardware, all of it 1/4″ x 20 spec., just to keep things simple.

I began by measuring out the center of each of the four faces, then using a hobby knife to cut holes in the Rubbermaid container, through which the mounting/structural support rods will pass.  I also used the knife to trim off the perpendicular flange that ran around the container near the top, as it would get in the way of the coldshoes.

In step two, I fed in the 2x 3″ threaded rods and their associated hardware – some washers and nuts to keep them in position within the Rubbermaid frame.  As I mentioned before, the purpose of these rods is twofold – first, they provide mounting points for the coldshoes; and second, they greatly increase the structural strength of the container.

With the rods in place (and as you can see above, one of the coldshoes attached), I used the knife to cut two holes in the bottom of the container, and two matching holes in the “Easy Find Lid” – these are for the umbrellas, two of which can feed through the container.  Because the lid is made of a flexible rubber, I left it’s holes a little smaller, for some extra grip on the umbrellas.

Here’s the finished unit, with the coldshoes mounted and a threaded connector attached to the bottom post, so that the bracket can mount directly to the threaded post on the lightstand’s umbrella adapter.  After threading the coldshoes into place, I used a wrench to tighten down all the nuts inside the container – the finished unit actually feels remarkable solid!

And here it is in action – three Speedlites securely mounted and firing in sync.  It works!

If you’ve read this far and are any kind of photographer, you’re probably thinking that I’m crazy about now.  For sure, a Rubbermaid container is NOT any kind of secure, confidence-inspiring unit that you’re going to mount nearly $1k in flashes to.  And I’m right there with you.

What I was able to do here is build a multi-flash bracket that feels surprisingly sturdy, for under $25, in less time than it took to actually find the components.  Amazingly enough, I actually have enough confidence in this contraption that I’d use it in the studio – albeit with frequent checks for plastic fatigue and cracking.

On-location, however, even I’m not nuts enough to use this thing – I get the distinct feeling that it’s just not up to being in constant motion in, say, the hands of an assistant.  And I certainly don’t want to see three of my Speedlites take a nose-dive into the dirt.

So what was the point of all this?  Call it a “proof of concept.”  There are units out there like the FourSquare and Lastolite TriFlash, but I’m still not convinced that they need to cost $65-$100+ apiece.  I still believe that there’s a better way – and I’m going to keep looking for a way to build one of these on my own.  One, incidentally, that will actually stand up to the rigors of the field.

And that can’t be used to hold M&Ms during it’s off-time.

The key to all these multi-Speedlight shots is a little unit by Lightware Direct called the FourSquare Block, which Dave appears to have been testing for a while.  Essentially a square of machined aluminum, the FourSquare lets you mount a Speedlite to each side, quickly combining anywhere from one to four of them together on a single bracket for increased power.

Photo Credit: Lightwaredirect.com

Very cool!

Unfortunately, the price you pay for cool is pretty steep – Lighware Direct’s FourSquare is $100.  Start adding accessories, like the swivel mounts that let you keep the E-TTL sensors facing the camera, and the price jumps by almost another $100.  Throw in their softbox and handle grip, and you’re looking at a cool $400+.  Ouch – that’s a brand new 580EX!

I see something like that and my brain instantly shifts into DIY mode.  Since I just love being cheap reverse engineering things like this, I can’t justify spending a Speedlite’s worth of clams on the mount & modifier alone.  I mean, come on, at it’s most simple, we’re talking about a 4-way mount with some coldshoes on it…how hard can it be to make one of those?

Off the top of my head, I’m thinking 2x right angle brackets hooked together into a square.  Or perhaps a 4-way threaded connector, with lengths of threaded steel rods onto which the coldshoes can directly screw.  I don’t care if mine looks as pretty as the FourSquare, it just needs to hold 4x Speedlites securely and mount to a lightstand/monopod.

What all this means is a trip to the hardware store this evening, another hour or two spent wandering aimlessly to see what I can find and convert from its intended use into a flash accessory.  In all honesty, I see this project as being simpler than the last one, my DIY Right-angle Flash Mount.

I’ve got a model shoot tomorrow evening and I’d love to have this built in time to try it out.  Not sure if that’s possible, but either way, be sure to share what I come up with.

Actually, I’m shooting for a couple of looks as the light changes.  For starters, I want to try some colorful, high-key portraits, which will be a combo of an umbrella key light and ambient sun backlight.  (For some great examples of this, check out MostlyLisa’s Flickr stream – her portraits rock!)

Later, as the light falls to twilight, I’m hoping to tryout McNally’s “How to Light an Elf” technique from The Hotshoe Diaries (checkout that chapter here on Google Books).  I won’t have a bridge in the background, but I am trying to workout a location that will show some city lights – or at the very least, some building lights showing through trees.

For this one, I figure on dropping the umbrella and trying a grid, which differs from how McNally shot it.  Dismissing the master’s technique in favor of my own sounds dumb, but who knows, maybe it will work.  And if not, then I’ll jump back to the umbrella and mutter my apologies to the photo gods!

So yeah, this is a short post with no photos (I did have some theory sketches, showcasing more of my mad drawing skills, but I lost them somewhere on my desk).  Sorry about that.  But with any luck, I’ll have satisfying results to share this weekend.

Part of what Mike had to say concerned, of all things, gear (yes, that topic that I was trying to shy away from for a while).  Speaking as someone with a few more years of life experience than me, he recommended that if I was going to “go pro,” I should carefully invest in “pro gear.”

I put “pro gear” in quotes because it can be difficult to draw the distinction sometimes.  I personally believe that “pro gear” may often be the gear that a pro is using;  Canon’s 17-55mm IS lens isn’t part of the L-series, but it is widely regarded as being of L performance.  The 50mm f/1.8 certainly isn’t an L lens, but making amazing images in the right hands, is it not a “pro’s lens?”

Canon 70-200mm f/2.8L IS II - Definitely a pro lens. Photo Credit: Canon USA

Here’s the thing: Canon L-series lenses are marketed with an element of snob appeal, which a certain demographic finds attractive.  But they’re also marketed that way (and have a matching price tag) because they represent an investment for the professional photographer.  An investment because they provide superior optical quality and performance; because they are more durable and resistant; and because they will hold their value for years if well cared for.

Being a bit of a cheapskate, I’ve resisted L lenses for years now, but here’s something that Mike said: “Second best doesn’t fly with your clients and customers.”

I suspect that I’m a bit more open to artistic license regarding this than Mike is; again, if you’re making killer images with your $90 nifty-fifty, then I’m not sure it’s a second-best lens.  But when you really get down to it, Mike is right; if you’re going to be a pro and charge the big bucks to make incredible photos, you need the best tools for the job.  Tools that will perform in any situation you encounter.  Tools that will survive constant use – and a little abuse.  That’s the investment you have to make.

Mike’s parting advice to me was this: with all that in mind, make a wish list of pro glass, and acquire it.  So here’s my wishlist:

Zoom Kit:

Tokina 10-17mm fisheye

Canon 17-35mm f/2.8 L

Canon 24-105mm f/4 L IS

Canon 70-200mm f/2.8 L IS

Canon 1.4x Teleconverter

Prime Kit:

Canon 24mm f/1.4 L

Canon 50mm f/1.2 L

Canon 100mm f/2.8 L IS Macro

Canon TS-E 24mm L II

(Depending on the work I’m doing, I like to have an option between zoom and prime lenses  And hell, it’s called a wish list for a reason – I am doing a little daydreaming here. )

Yes, there are a few odd choices on here.  The Tokina fisheye, for instance.  But it’s the only zoom fisheye produced, and having had one before, I know that it is a first-class lens that fills a niche.  Likewise the 24-105mm f/4 amid all the f/2.8s; I tend to have shaky hands (too much coffee?), so I value IS over the extra stop.  As for the final one, the TS-E, that’s a lark – I’ve read about tilt-shift lenses and they sound like fun.

Personally, I think that Canon’s L-series lenses are getting outdated and are long overdue for an overhaul.  Yes, a few Mk II models have popped up in recent years, but the real workhorse lenses, especially among the zooms, are getting old.  Some updated optics, added/improved IS, maybe a whole new lens or two, and I believe that the whole series would become more attractive.

In the meantime, this gives me something to work towards.  Will I ever own all of these?  Probably not.  Looking at the list now, I don’t even want to add up the cost.  But it does give me something to work towards, a sort of long-range goal to go hand-in-hand with my 5 year plan.  And like the plan itself, I’m sure this wishlist will change with my particular needs.

Taking Mike’s advice to heart, I’d suggest that other aspiring photogs make their own wishlists.  Don’t do it for the sticker shock of the final price; don’t do it just to pick out fun new “toys.”  Do it to identify what tools you’ll need to shoot professionally.  If you can’t identify the tools, that probably means that you still need to figure out what your specialty is – or perhaps that you’re not really interested in being a full-time pro (there’s nothing wrong with staying semi-pro).

And if you can come up with a wishlist of your own, maybe it will help guide you along your track.

Thanks, Mike!

Photo Credit: Twin Lens Photography

What struck me was the huge difference in styles between them – a complete dichotomy.  I’d say that both are well done and each has some excellent images, but where the Napa Valley series is light and airy, Albuquerque goes in the complete opposite direction; dark and rich.

I think what fascinates me most is how radically the styles differ, even though the subject matter is so similar.  Both weddings make me ask “Why was it shot this way?  What drove the photographer to make that decision?”

Is it just a style choice?  Does the Napa photog work bright while the Albuquerque photog shoots dark?  Perhaps.  But it’s more interesting to jump beyond personal style to ponder the other factors.

Certainly the Napa Valley wedding lends itself to bright, airy photos – most of it is outdoors, in lovely afternoon light.  There’s a very warm, natural feel to the scene.  It looks relaxed.  Albuquerque, likewise, lends itself to punchy colors and darker, bolder tones; the brides maids are in bright dresses, the flowers and decor match, and the whole thing has more of a twilight/evening atmosphere.

Photo Credit: Twin Lens Photography

But could you switch the styles?  It’s easy to look at the photos and say that each lends itself to a style, since they’re shot that way in the first place!  I think it’s a lot harder to try and imagine reversing them and, in the end, I’m not entirely sure you could.

You might be able to pull off a brighter style with Albuquerque, wash out the colors and lessen the shadows, but the fact that it apparently took place later in the day is going to dictate some darkness.  And trying to brighten it up might not do justice to the bold color palette (although as shot, I personally think that the images look a little over-saturated).

I’m really not sure that you could take a bright, pastel-based wedding like the Napa Valley example and darken it down.  Without those bold colors, it might just get muddy looking and lose that afternoon warmth.

All this speculation is just that: speculation.  Although I certainly hope it isn’t idle.  What I’m taking from this is questions, a specific curiosity that I want to explore.  I personally prefer the bright, airy feel of the Napa shots, and it’s a style that I want to continue to work with.  But I have to wonder – and I’m sure I’ll try this as soon as I get the chance – what would happen if in the midst of shooting one style I took just a minute to do a 180 and try the exact opposite.

Photography is unpredictable and the results might be surprising.  At the very least they’d be interesting.