Making Mugs

All this chat lately about clichés and what not has me looking differently at the Utah shots. Which is a good thing. Because after living with them for the past month I had about decided that for one reason or another they all sucked and that there wasn't a mouse farts worth of decent images in the whole bunch.

This tends to happen from time to time when I get lazy with my image processing and expect these RAW captures to magically give up the goods with only minimal effort. Now, I'm a Photoshop guy, like I know most of the regular readers of my blog are, and we all process RAW files and manipulate them to our desires. Which, of course, is not always an easy thing to do. Even if you do it every day for years you can still find yourself faced with compositions that you may like but are at a loss to get looking the way you want. Happens to me, anyways.

Then something, somewhere, got me to thinking about a small plaque that rests on the wall in our kitchen, and how it relates to the way I process images. It belongs to my wife (she had it before we ever met) and it says, "Men are of clay, and Women make mugs of them." And while it may make perfect sense to you, I puzzled over the meaning of that plaque for years. Then one day it hit me... women take something worthless and make something useful! Duh. I knew there was reason I always hated that plaque.

What it doesn't mention is how much hard work it's gonna take to make that mug.

I have liked this shot from the moment I saw it, but initial attempts at processing didn't do a thing for me. To finally get a handle on the image I used one RAW file, processed through Photomatix using 3 differently exposed Tiff's, gave it a very delicate tone-mapping (if there is such a thing) and then tweaked it using Color Mechanic Pro, The Shadow/Highlights in CS, selective color adjustments, and all kinds of groovy things. Took me three tries and as many hours to get it right. Insanity. And I'm still not happy with the clear blue sky. Part of me really wants a cloud in there.

Anyhow, this image was the first to get printed. Printed it big too, 12x18, biggest my printer will go without going borderless. Looks pretty good. I guess you could say I finally threw a mug from the clay.

Place Names and Introduced Species

Our first night in Utah was at one of the many campgrounds outside of Moab that sit alongside the Colorado river on highway U-128. A nice little BLM operation called Negro Bill. Lots of other campgrounds were available just down the road, but this was one of the cheapest. Besides, it happens to be situated right next to the trail-head for Negro Bill Canyon, which supposedly makes for fine day-hiking and mountain biking.

The name of the canyon (and later the campground) Negro Bill, became of interest to me as I was planning the trip, not only because of its relatively cheap price, but also because the name had been amended at some point (the 70's?) from its original place name of "Nigger Bill Canyon" to the more politically correct "Negro Bill Canyon." Seems Bill was a settler of the region back in the late 1800's who held the proper name of William Granstaff. For several years he grazed his cattle in the canyon before being run out, supposedly for selling liquor to the local Ute Indians.

Now, why change a perfectly good place name? I personally find the original place name much more endearing and characteristic of the American West. But, I suppose such a name just couldn't fly in this day in age, as I don't think there is another single word in the entire English language that carries as much baggage. (If you were to shout SNAKE, or FIRE, in the midst of a large crowd the reaction would likely be good. But try shouting NIGGER. You'll be lucky to get out in one piece.) And why not just change the name to Granstaff Canyon?

I can't help but wonder what Bill would have thought.

Today's image was taken through the Tamarisk trees that surrounded our camp. These low-growing invasive trees were reportedly introduced for erosion control in the 1800's and have been gaining ground every since. Now every major waterway and perennial wet spot in the Southwest is getting overrun.

A project is underway to control them with another introduced species, the Tamarisk Leaf Beetle. These pea-sized buggers strip the Tamarisk of their leaves and choke the life right out of 'em. The project has worked so well in other parts of the west that they started introducing them into the Moab area this year. They had nifty little signs about it posted all over the place.

As a riverside companion the Tamarisk seemed pretty harmless to me. They grew so closely together that they created a dense canopy, shading us from the desert sun. They also shed a nice bed of fine needles that were perfect for pitching camp over, and a handful of the fresh boughs made for a great makeshift broom. These were quite useful for sweeping out the tents and dusting off our gear.

The problem is that these trees also suck up billions and billions of gallons of water each year from an already water-starved area. And the fine needles that made for such a nice camp are so laden with salt that nothing else will grow where they fall. No wonder the natives want them gone.

Next time I visit I'll try to remember to bring my own broom.

Processing Wonderland\Nightmare

Rarely have so many images of such (hmm, what's the word I'm looking for...) let's call it-- "usefulness," been available to me after a shoot. Usually I'm rather experimentive when I'm shooting locally. After all, I can always return later and my primary goal is usually to get something different from anything I may have shot there before.

Not so with the Canyonlands trip. Most the shots I took were with the lenses in MF mode set to the best hyperfocal distance for maximum sharpness and DOF. I charted this out pretty well before the trip, and went so far as to make little marks on a couple of the lenses just to help me remember where the best settings were. Boring, yes. But it worked like a charm.

The cheap Sigma 18-50mm DC f3.5/5.6 saw the most use. It's a capable performer from f11-f16, and diffraction is just starting at f16... barely. It's not the sharpest lens in the world, but it's not like anybody is gonna know the difference but me. After careful processing I don't even think another photographer would be able see the difference between it and a 10x more expensive lens, even in a large print (at least to 11x17, which is the largest I'll likely go). Seriously, if used carefully it is one heck of a worthy little lens.

The problems is that, knowing these things made much of the work rather boring. I was rarely tempted to "get off course" and experiment, preferring to go with the settings I knew would deliver good shots. So be it. Now I have over 1000 images, all of them decent technically, and with many of them differentiated only by a change in location.

So now the real enchilada has been in the post-processing. I can't go back and redo the shots, so I have to bring the best out of what I've got. It's been a frustrating challenge.

Today's image was one of the first I tried a B&W to sepia treatment with. Again, I don't see it as a great shot or anything, but I do like the way the treatment works for it. I'll be doing it with some others soon.

Recapitulation

The night before I left on my "Canyonlands" adventure, my son asked if I was excited. "Yes," I replied. He, after all, had watched all day as I rushed around, packing my bag, making last minute arrangements, etc.... There was no denying the fact.

Then I paused for a moment, considering the deeper implications of my answer (lest he should get the wrong idea) and added, "Unfortunately, it will all evaporate too soon... it's hard to get overly excited about such things anymore." (How's that for a wise-ass, old-fart answer?)

Now, just over one week later, the adventure is over and the realities of my day to day life are, once again, about to come back into focus. Off to work, dealing with projects, both unfinished and unstarted, caring for ailing loved ones (myself included) and everything else that makes life so grand. Little is left of my Canyonlands journey but a pocketful of shared experiences, a few personal insights, and a 7 gigabytes worth of flash memory.

Now, about that flash memory. I took around 1200 photos, in all, between my pocket camera (which I used far more than anticipated) and my aging DLSR. The pocket cam captured the JPEGs, and the DSLR the RAW. It will take weeks to get through the processing of the RAW images, as so many will also require HDR conversions. A tedious chore, to be sure, but also a labor of love. Even though I can see already that not many of them will be that good.

And really, what else do I have left?

To be honest, I'm not yet sure. Some things just take longer to digest than others. A trip such as this could take months, or even years to fully develop. The memories and insights, like the unprocessed RAW files, are not yet realized. They're in there, just like all the ingredients in that spaghetti sauce, but they have yet to be printed, framed, and mounted.

The image presented here was taken at Labyrinth camp B along the White Rim 4wd trail. A hot, dry, and windy place where the ground is so hard that rocks must be used to anchor ones tents. It is a truly desert environment where shade from the mid-day sun is a premium commodity. This is an HDR image, one of the first I saw fit to muck with. As usual, I have attempted to keep the HDR tom-foolery to a minimum in order to present a more natural looking image.

Of logs and blogs

Today's image is an oldie. I took the shot some several years ago while visiting my aunt and uncles cabin.

There a week left yet before I embark upon my "great adventure." Some may see it as a trip to the desert filled with little more than lizards, rocks, and canyons, but for me it stands out as one of those "adventures-of-a-lifetime". A phrase whose very meaning has become suspect of late.

Now, I've had my fair share of adventures by some folks standards. I've floated rivers, hiked and climbed in high mountain places, probed the depths of many of Arkansas' wild cave systems, and a few other things along these lines. Nothing too outrageous, though. And I'm sure many, if not most, other adventurers would view the things I have done as being completely pedestrian. I'd have to agree.

My point is, though, that the most recent of these trips was some 15 years in the past. And like it or not, years make a difference.

I keep telling myself I'm not too old for this kind of crap. Not yet. I can do it. And it's all about the desire. After all, if you want a thing badly enough, you can get it... despite the condition you may be in.

Heck, it's even been awhile since I so much as curled up in a tarp under the stars without a tent for protection. 20 years, perhaps? I can't recall the date. Fortunately, though, it wasn't so long ago that I forget what it's like.

I hope I never do.

PS. Almost forgot. I plan to blog out my trip a few posts at a time once I return. Should be fun.

Another Macro

OK, I admit it. I have a fascination with getting up close to things. Macro (or micro if you're using Nikkor) is one of my favorite areas of photography.

Perhaps it's because of the way macro photography allows you cut the clutter of the rest of the world, allowing you get more intimate with your subject. Or something like that.

Or, maybe it has more to do with the way the close-up image can render the world. Sometimes things are in focus, sometimes out of focus, it's all possible... depending on the effect you're after.

Todays image is rather flat. I've tried to tease a little depth into it--for all the good it did. Still, I'm pretty happy with it. The colors are relaxing and the composition, though rather standard, is engaging enough for me to decide it's worth sharing.

Now, about that up-and-coming trip to the Canyonlands. Details are finally finalized. Getting all the backcountry reservations we wanted (well, most of them anyway) proved to be a ongoing lesson in why you should reserve sites really early if you want to do things right!

We wound up only getting one night along the White Rim road, a 4wd track that makes a 100 mile loop around the Islands in the Sky section of the park. If we had managed a site closer to the middle of the track it would not be as big a deal, but we got one of the only ones available and it happens to be a scant 25 miles in. Even the Rangers I have spoken with did not care to speculate on how many hours it might take to traverse the 75 miles of road we'll be obliged to travel in one day. Evidently there are just too many variables to estimate the time with any degree of accuracy. I translate this to mean, "Get up early and drive--see how far you get by noon--drive faster if you must."

Luckily, though, the second leg of our trip in the Needles section of the park is looking far more laid back. We have the same site reserved for two nights in a row, and the only pressures we should have are what to cook for supper and where to hike.

Should be a lot of fun. I hope to get a few nice pics. Something other than macros.

A Nasty Habit

Yep, today's photo is nasty. No doubt about it.

But (no pun intended) the thing is... I like this photograph. A lot. To me it's just one of those images that, despite the subject matter, contains all the elements of good photo.

So, for my own sake, I'm gonna try to break it down and see why it works.

1. Decent Composition

For some time now I have been convinced that this single elusive quality is the ultimate deal breaker (or maker) when it comes to presenting a good photograph. Some folks can find the best compositions with their eyes closed... I can't. So it's a big deal for me when I stumble across one that I feel really works.

Now, I'm not gonna try to dissect leading lines, discuss the rule of thirds, or any of that other stuff, although these things can certainly be elements of a strong composition. Of far more interest to me is the raw appeal. The evocative, visceral, emotional impact (or repulsion) that some images can convey.

This one makes me feel dirty, lonely, lost, and discarded. Like a failure. Pretty strong stuff. Due in part, no doubt, to the fact that I was a reformed smoker that has now relapsed. Now I get to give them up again.

On the other hand, it also gives me a sense of community, connectedness, and hope. And I find it fascinating that this image can pull me in so many different directions at once. That's cool.

2. A Clear Subject

Sometimes the subjects can get lost in a composition, and this usually not a good thing. Except maybe where abstracts are concerned and the subject becomes the abstraction itself. For most images, though, it's usually best to find some way to point out the subject and leave little or no room for misinterpretation.

3. A Sense of Space

By this I mean that there is some sense of depth to the image. A clearly defined foreground, subject, and background. This is not necessary for every image, of course, but when it comes to defining images that appeal to me the most, it's usually there.

So, what has this little exercise taught me? I'm not sure. I knew these things already. But it might interest you to know that the egg is one of nature's most perfect foods. And I knew that already too. Maybe sometimes you just need to be reminded.