And you should, too.  Take 10 minutes and watch the videos.  They’re quick, they’re funny, but most of all they’re packed with excellent information, and even a little inspiration.  The first video is a rundown on the lighting setup for the Springsteen photos; the next three are a sort of overview on Gregory himself.  He talks about how he got started, how he works with people, and how he shoots.

Honestly, if you can watch these and not come away with something, you should probably crawl back under whatever rock you came out of.  Personally, I’m a little blown away by how much I was able to extract from 10 minutes of clips.  (And if you’re looking for proof, my notes are below.)

I can only hope that Profoto makes this sort of interview a regular thing, because this is exactly the sort of thing that we all, as photographers at any level, need – more access into the heads of successful, icon pro photogs.  We can’t all become assistants to one, we’re just not that lucky – but as a next best thing, interviews like this are pretty damn good.

When you’re done watching the video, check out Gregory’s website – hover your cursor over the word “Portraits” when you get in for a drop-down list of galleries.  There’s some incredible work in there!

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!

I’m sure that there’s some formal method that you’re supposed to use to write a five year plan, and if I Googled it I would find pages and pages of examples and instructions.  I’m just as sure that I really don’t care what the “official” format is – this is a plan that I’m putting together for myself, that will reflect my life to come.  It’s not as if I’m going to be graded on it.

It’s actually quite exciting to sit and project where I want to be in five years.  Not only is this the first time I’ve been able to accurately make such projections, but it’s really the first time in my life that I’ve known what I want to do with it.  As a child, when you’re asked what you want to be when you grow up, you can give a different answer each day of the week, and people think it’s cute.  When I was two I wanted to own a grocery store; at six I wanted to be a pilot; at twelve, a marine biologist.

Now, I know that what I really want to be most of all is a photographer.  That’s the union that I’m ready to commit to, the path that I want to follow.  And it is a thrill to even be able to say that.  When I wake up each morning, I want to be able to climb out of bed and make my coffee and pick up my camera.  I want to pack the lighting bags in the trunk and drive not to an office, but to location shoots.  I want to record the joy of weddings and the passing of time in families and moments of honor and wonder in life.

I don’t care if I’m never a vice-president or a CEO.  I don’t want to climb the corporate ladder and deal with the political infighting.  I’d rather measure my success in the way I touch the lives of others, instead of by how much stock I accumulate.

I’m not going to go into all the details here, but the general overview of my five year plan is to morph from doing photography “on the side” to making it my primary business.  In the intervening years, I’ll need to greatly increase my marketing and boost my client list.  In addition to taking on clients/gigs, one of my goals is to begin hosting workshops and teaching photography to others.

Being a plan, this is of course subject to change, disaster, and utter abandonment.  But I like to think that it’s a plan that stands a good chance of actually happening.  It’s something to look forward to.

Today was the day that I embraced social media as a professional photographer!

(Proof, for the doubters, is in the image below:)

I’m now on Twitter (bpennphoto) and have a new Facebook Fan Page, and I’ve registered for more sites this morning than I can keep track of.  There’s Twitter, then the one that lets you load photos to Twitter, then the one that lets you manage all your social media from one portal – that’s HootSuite, which is actually very cool.  (Although I’d pay real money to see the HootSuite owl eat the Twitter bird.)

I even put together my own custom Twitter background image, which I’m rather proud of.

But more than just signing up and winging this, I’m taking instruction from Mandy; she works with this stuff every day and has become quite the guru.  It’s actually at her urging that I’ve finally done all this, and I have to give her due credit.

When social media first began to appear in daily life, I have to admit that I dismissed it.  Part of me simply considered it a fad that would pass (remember Pogs?) and to a great deal I simply didn’t understand why it was relevant.  I supported the classic argument of “why does the world care what I’m doing at any given moment?”

It took a good deal of time and an increasing exposure to all of it, through Mandy, for me to begin to understand what the point really was.  There are certainly people who use Twitter and Facebook to post about their daily lives, activities, etc, and nobody cares.  But there are many people who have figure this out and are using it to drive massive amounts of information.

As Mandy keeps saying, it’s all about forming “real connections with people.”  They call it networking for a reason – because the goal is to meet others with common interests and passions and exchange information with them.  ”Meaningful conversations” is another of her sayings that I happen to agree with.

The opportunity for that kind of networking excites me.  I genuinely want to connect with other photographers, models, artists, etc., I want to spread my own reputation and attract some more business.  I’d like to see that people are reading this blog and I’d like to engage those people in meaningful conversations.  (Basically I’d like to know that I’m not just on here talking to myself…)

So if you keep up with what I post, or even if you just drift in from time to time, I invite you to connect with me in these forums across the internet.  Feel free to ask questions and leave comments.  Help me engage!

We began the morning with models in the studio; I had my full Speedlite rig setup and we worked through several lighting variations, ending with a clamshell lighting setup that worked great with our beautiful model:

I got wrapped up in shooting and didn’t get setup shots like I should have, and I couldn’t even begin to tell you what the lighting ratios were – we simply changed camera settings and moved the lights until they worked.  And they did work.

What I can tell you is a couple of points that quickly became clear, through working with the models and through the insight of some of the more experienced photogs present.  First off, when it comes to working with models, you’ve got to keep them in motion – just get them to move in different ways, and have the camera to your eye to capture the perfect moments when they come.   Give them direction, encourage them, get them to repeat poses and movements that worked.  Models – especially inexperienced ones – are usually looking for some form of guidance; you’ve got to let them know what you want them to do, know that you’re engaging with them, otherwise they freeze up and get nervous.

Second, I’ve come to the conclusion that the pop-up flash on the Canon 7D is just too weak; the built-in commander mode is wonderful, but even working in my corner of the conference room, it didn’t gave the power to trigger the slaves consistently.  Suck it up and buy an extra 580EX(II) and slap in on the hotshoe in Master mode and then go to town.  The 580EX throws a ton of light and triggers the slaves every time.  And from my understanding, the new 580EX II will talk to the 7D, giving you control over features directly from the camera.

(And there’s a rumor going ’round that Canon is about to release a new Speedlite…  Something even better than the 580EX II, to counter the Nikon SB-900?)

Finally, if you really want to kick your model shots up a notch, get some motion in them.  A $40 pedestal fan from Lowes got Alli’s hair blowing around and gave a whole other dimension to the photos.  I scrapped the stand that came with the fan and slid part of it’s post over the top of a lightstand – fit perfectly, and gave me an adjustable height range.   The two shots posted above wouldn’t be half as good if her hair was just lying there motionless.

While I was playing with Speedlites, Tony in the next room had his entire studio setup going; we’re talking a massive muslin background, several Alien Bees lights with modifiers, an iMac, everything but the kitchen sink.  I didn’t tap into that setup – big strobe setups aren’t really my thing – but I did step in and shoot a few frames with one of the afternoon models, sort of over Tony’s shoulder.  While he blasted away with the big guns, this is just a 580EX on-camera, bounced off the ceiling, with the 70-210mm f/4 wide open:

It’s warm from the bounce off the tan ceiling tiles, and there’s just a bit of softness that comes from using that particular lens fully zoomed, combined with the f/4 aperture.  Simple, but elegant, and not at all bad for bounce light.  This is the Strobist concept: you can hit a model from all angles, with multiple monoblocs, and get one look; or you can hit them with a single, bounced Speedlite and get a completely different look.  One is no more valid than the other, they’re just different ways of doing the same job, and having both setups on site that day made it really easy to see the ways they differed.

We closed out the workshop shooting outside, which is a story I’ll continue in the next post.

In the meantime, I want to wrap this one up with a final impression – this Strobist workshop was the most fun I’ve had with a camera in ages.  I cannot over-estimate how helpful it was to be there participating, or how fulfilling it was to coordinate the event and see it through to the end.  I can say without any doubt that every single person who attended walked away with killer images, having learned something new, and having met and networked with an amazing crew of photographers & models.  Everyone there interacted and helped each other – we stepped into each other’s setups and traded transmitters, we shared exposure settings & held gear, and the folks not shooting offered suggestions from the sidelines.  You couldn’t have asked for a better crowd!

It’s not a question of if we’ll do this again, it’s a question of when, and we’re already starting to form some ideas there.  For anyone out there who has never attended a photo get-together/workshop, I strongly suggest that you do so.  Both Strobist and DPChallenge.com groups meet up all the time, all across the USA – and even internationally.  If you’re serious about photography, if you’re serious about wanting to expand your skill set and get better, then it’s worth the investment to be at one of these events.  And if you find that there aren’t any near you, then do what I did, and make one happen.

It is completely, without a doubt, worth it.

What’s the solution?  Damned if I know.  Not even sure that there is one.  But if you’re just have to do something, if a partial solution is better than no solution at all, then I suspect you could do a lot worse than a “photo a day” sort of project.

The rules and format for these sort of projects vary because of their personal nature.  Darwin Wiggett, who I mentioned in a previous post, calls his the “Daily Click” and posts them to his blog.  A friend of mine used to do “Photo Fridays.”  Two friends living on opposite coasts would start each morning by both posting a photo, a collaborative effort that led to a neat little book (their current project is 3191 Miles Apart).  And professional photographer Jim Brandenburg challenged himself to take a single photo each day for an entire season, leading to the excellent book Chased by the Light.

Sunset out the back window

I’ve seen photographers do photo a day projects that lasted only a month; 30 days of self-portraits, 30 days out the back door, 30 days of their shoes.  But whatever the length or theme, these self-assigned projects are out there.

For a long time I scoffed at the notion of a photo a day project, mainly because so many of them fail.  Life happens, you get tired or busy or sick, and you miss a photo.  And then you miss another.  Pretty soon the project is dead and you’ve given up altogether.  It’s got failure stamped all over it – especially if you were sharing your progress online.

But lately I’ve been rethinking that.  Trapped mid-winter, getting home just before sunset, my only chance for photography has been the weekends, and even those are subject to scheduling and weather.  I’m longing to do more shooting – it’s an actual need in my life.

Maybe it’s time to go back to basics, to get really simple with this.  Take a page out of the 3191 project’s book and shoot something simple each day.  Look for lighting and patterns, shapes and geometry – all those elements that we try to find together in our compositions.

And don’t kill myself over the rules.  It’s a photo a day, but if you miss a day (or a couple), it isn’t the end of the world.  The project is for me, not anyone else.  If it ends up being a photo a week for a while, oh well.  The goal is twofold: to work the craft and hopefully learn something along the way, and to get myself though the winter without photography withdrawal.

The 300D was my very first DSLR, and pretty much my second or third digital camera of any kind. I remember how excited I was when I ordered it – what a significant investment it was at that time in my life. Now I shake my head a little, looking back at it’s ugly body shape and terrible silver plastic, at the tiny LCD screen on the back and the 30k rated shutter life.

Canon changed the market with the 300D and at the time it was an impressive piece of gear. But, oh how far we’ve come since then. Shutter life has improved by a factor of 5; megapixels have tripled; continuous shooting and buffer speed are worlds beyond; and we now regularly shoot at ISOs that used to be the maximum, reserved for emergency sightings of Bigfoot and UFOs.

We all play the game of “what will we say in another 25 years?” What will cameras be like then? I for one refuse to speculate (although unofficially, I tend to think we’ll still be using some recognizable form of the DSLR). What interests me more than speculating on the future is looking back on the past, at where I’ve come from.

I remember the first gig I took that involved lighting – photographing antique furniture for auction. The client was a more distant family member, but it was still a big gig; it stretched out over two years (he had a lot of antiques). When I first started, I was using Home Depot clamp lights on PVC stands. By the second round, I had a cheap Quantaray hotshoe flash, and two even cheaper ($10 each) optical-trigger booster flashes, now on the PVC stands with homemade umbrellas (think rain umbrella and silver spray paint.) Together with the old Rebel, it wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

For most photographers just starting out, the early years are tough. They’re filled with primitive, cheap, and DIY equipment. They’re filled with a lot of trial and error and steep learning curves.

But thinking back, they were also a lot of fun. There was an excitement to the whole thing that I feel is sometimes diminished now. Not that it isn’t still exciting – just that there is less of that “explorer of the unknown” element.

Or maybe I’m just thinking about it all too much.

Jonathan had just taken the job at the university when I began trying to learn photography. He took me on as his intern, a position I held for that full year, officially. Unofficially, I continued to drop by and help out for the rest of my time at university. For my final 8 months there, I worked for the department as a long-term freelancer.

It was this internship that got me out of auto mode and onto the road of really becoming a photographer. I could fill dozens of posts going over all the things I learned that year, all the lessons and tricks and tips. But for right now, I just want to pass along a few of the ones that stick out the most in my mind:

* There is no excuse for fuzzy, blurry photos. Don’t blame it on camera shake, or the bad lighting, or your limited gear. Find a way to get the shot, and get it sharp and in focus. (The only exception to this is artistic, meaningful motion blur – that’s okay, in limited amounts.)

* A photo without cutline info is worthless! It’s worse than no photo at all. If this info is not included, no one will publish the image. Identify the people in the photo, identify the location and the time, and quickly explain what’s going on. That’s what metadata fields are for.

* Do not return without a photo. If you are sent out on assignment, return with something. No matter what happens, do not come back empty handed. Find an angle, find an element, find a way to illustrate it, or as a last resort, find something else worth while.

* Archive your work as you go. Nothing is worse than having to sit down and archive four months of photos at once. Keep up with it as you shoot; it’s miserable, but less so than having a backlog.

* Push yourself. Having techniques and styles that work is great, but don’t become too dependent on them. When you see that you’re shooting the same way time and time again, try something new.

* Ethics matter – don’t compromise yourself, you work, or the story.

* Don’t get tunnel vision. Every assignment needs establishing shots, general shots, and detail shots. Give your editor options – they like this.

* Each photo should tell the story of what is happening – you should be able to look at it and, just like a news article, know who, what, where, when, and why. That’s the mark of great photography.

———-

A final point – if you want to learn photography, if you seriously want to be a photographer, find a mentor. Find someone who has worked in the business, who has been successful, and who is willing to take the time to teach you. Be willing to carry their gear and hold their lights and run errands if in return they impart their collective knowledge to you. There is no substitute for excellence, or for experience. The best way to learn this business is to learn it from someone who does it.

Do you even remember?

I don’t remember. I know that my very first photo must have been about the time I was 5.   I do remember being allowed to take photos with my mother’s camera now and then, when she had it out at parties or events.

What I remember distinctly is being in about 5th grade and having my own Mickey Mouse camera, which used the kind of film that used to come in a cartidge that looked like a bar with a reel on each end. I remember playing outside with one of the neighborhood kids; the camera was ready at my eye, and as she came running around the side of the house, I tripped the shutter.

That is the first time I can consciously recall making a photograph.

I can still remember how excited I was to see that photo. I remember reaching into the envelope full of prints and pulling them out, searching until I found that shot. It full of motion blur from my attempt at panning, but there was my friend, mid-stride, and damn was I excited to see that I had been able to take a moment and capture it just the way I saw it.

The lessons all came later. But the love for the art seems to have been there since the start; perhaps that’s the way it is.

I wish I had that photo with me now. But it has suffered the fate of so many negative strips and slides and 4×6 prints – it is tucked away in a shoebox somewhere in my old bedroom at my parent’s house.

These are the moments that define us, that we carry with us through our lives. In the tens of thousands of photos I’ve taken since that summer day, there are a handfull of other moments that stand out. And each one marks a different starting point.

Someday, I should gather those images together and frame them.

NOTE – After writing this post, I discovered that I actually had another of these photos tucked away on my harddrive.  It’s a scan of a 4×6 print, taken with the Kodak P&S I got from my mom.  I was at least 16 when I took this, because I remember pulling over on the side of the road and leaning out the passenger window to shoot it.  This is the first time I can remember seeing something in nature, visualizing the shot, and then returning with the camera to make the photo.  That’s big stuff!

So what happens when you don’t have the light you want?  Well, either you sit home and watch TV reruns, or you go out anyway and try to (here it comes…) make the most of what you have.

This whole concept of “Making the Most of What You Have” keeps coming back in my posts because it keeps coming back in my life – which has helped make me a firm believer in it.  Somtimes – quite often, in fact – conditions are not ideal.  Now, if you’re a brain surgeon, maybe this makes a difference.  But as a photographer, ideal conditions are just that – ideal.  But not necessary.

Take the photo above: I drove up to Lackawanna State Park one evening about a week ago.  I got delayed in leaving, hit traffic in a construction zone, and by the time I got there, the sun was below the hills and what little color there had been in the sky was mostly gone.  Bummer.  But I’m already there, and I’m not about to drive home without making at least a few images.

At times like this, you have to be your own motivation.  The urge is strong to say, “The light stinks – to hell with it.”  But you’ve got to fight that urge.  Do you think that Robert Capa went home when the light was bad?  How about Moose Peterson – does he give up when the conditions aren’t ideal?  Not likely.

In my case, there were no strong colors left in the sky, and the light was falling off fast.  (They call this time of day “twilight” – not to be confused with that horrid book series.)  So no bold colors?  So what – I don’t want bold, I want subtle.  I want pastel.  I want the colors Monet used when he painted that scene along the riverside.

The challenge of the evening became makeing a photo that showed the scene as I saw it – accurately capturing the exposure, the contrast, and the color of the evening on the memory card.  (Funny how that doesn’t sound as good as saying “on film.”)

I didn’t take many shots, and only kept three of them.  They are not loud, bold, attention-hogging images.  But they are subtle and done in pastel colors, and I’m pleased with the outcome, and with the fact that I was able to make them.  I’m also pleased that I had a chance to get outside and work with the camera and the land.

Better to come home with something – anything – than come home empty handed.  Or worse yet, to have stayed home and been miserable.