Photo Tips O’ the Day

It’s been some time since I added to my blog. Life has a way of getting in the way of life. I thought I’d re-kick my blog with some of the “photo tips o’ the day” I’ve written, for those who haven’t seen them. They’re meant to be short reminders, sometimes motivational and sometimes mini-rants; they’re by no means a complete essay.

So please enjoy them, apply what applies to you, and share as you see fit (with proper credit, of course. Y’all know how I feel about that.)

– CJ

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PHOTO TIP O’ THE DAY ARCHIVE, PART 1

Disregard those who say you “must” do this or “can’t” do that. Art is not about limitations and restrictions.

If you are frustrated with your work, focus on one area at a time. You can’t climb three mountains at once.

Ruts are things we fall into when we work habitually rather than consistently. Switch off your auto-pilot.

Perfectionists: consider printing and signing your work. It forces you to take ownership and eliminates excuses.

Allow your sessions to breathe. Pauses help you to steer the session organically, and to keep your head clear.

Walk all the way around your subject and watch how the light changes the scene and mood. Light is a creative tool.

The common denominator in all your sessions is you. Shoot for you first and your clients will always know what to expect.

Don’t be so quick to delete and discard failed photos. Study them to learn what to do differently next time.

Personal space is mental, emotional, and physical. The key to a great portrait is to know how to be invited in.

Know your technique so that you can forget it. Focusing on the technical robs your subjects of your full attention.

Overshooting out of fear of missing “the shot” often means “the shot” never happens. Shoot less, engage more.

Portraits are like short stories; the elements that don’t add to your story will detract. Choose details carefully.

In portraits, mood/expression is key. Light, comp, backgrounds, post-processing, and contrast must work together to support it.

Each time you pick up the camera, you hold the raw materials to create a masterpiece. Shoot like you mean it.

Improving your work requires practice. Musicians don’t play only when they’re on stage.

Don’t allow yourself to fixate solely on your perceived weaknesses. Own your strengths and be proud of them.

If the most eye-catching part of your image is the action you ran, it may be time to reassess your work.

four generation portrait

Previous Post

National Velveteen

There is no such thing as “bad light”. There is only light used badly. Sometimes you gotta use what you have — in this case, it was overhead florescent lights in an arena, with a tiny little bit of fill from a distant doorway. Many times photographers assume that it’s not possible to achieve good lighting when the light source is directly overhead; not true, Petunia. You simply have to have your subjects look up toward the light, or in the case of a candid like this one, wait for the subject to do so on their own, and be ready.

This one has a sort of National Velvet-y feel to it that really appeals to me. Fortunately, these horses have gotten used to the massive ka-chunk of my medium format shutter. I prefer to first do no harm. People look better on horses than in a crumpled heap under them.

La Dolce Vita

I sometimes find myself too buried in serious, dark, heavy things. While I’m actually quite silly in person, I tend to focus (no pun intended) on depth and seriousness a lot in my work, particularly lately.

So I thought I’d share something light and fun, two words not frequently associated with either my work or with teenage boys. This is from last week’s vacation to the island cottage, my three offspring mangling each other. At the cottage, there are no such thing as stress, e-mail, groundings, and deadlines.

Enjoy an uncharacteristic light moment with me.

mangled children

Serendipity

(The following was written long-hand a few days ago.)

I have always believed in the power of coincidence. Serendipity. Whatever you choose to call it. I love chance. I love taking chances. Maybe I take too many, but I believe in leaving room for happy accidents, for the “meant to be.” I believe that sometimes we get what we need in ways we could never plan.

I’m on the island. I’m sitting by the sea wall in front of the cottage on a cool, cloudy day, waiting for another ship to pass. It will come in its own time, as yesterday came when I needed it, not before. Inspiration comes, not necessarily when it is needed, but when we’re ready to receive it.

I have not been inspired at the island this week. That’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed my time here; I have, tremendously. It just hasn’t been one of those visits where I’m pulled, pushed, and almost desperate to take camera in hand. Life has been that way for me lately. I have been so in the moment, every moment, that to document in gelatin has seemed irrelevant, maybe even irreverent. It’s natural. It’s part of the normal cycle of an artist’s life. Still, it’s not my favorite part.

Yesterday we had some unexpected visitors, which is part of cottage life. All are welcome, no appointment required. Most are family members, some immediate and some connected via the thinnest of threads, but family still. (Once you’ve been to the cottage, you simply become family, anyway.) Yesterday’s serendipity brought Sandy to the island, a distant cousin by marriage. I liked her instantly. Somehow during the course of the day, between sips of wine and dips in the river, she mentioned that she had previously been married to a jazz musician, and that they had had a loft in New York City in the 60’s. And I knew before she said it: she had been a friend and hostess to Eugene Smith, as well as Thelonious Monk, Alice Coltrane, and several other legends-in-progress. I know the story well; as a photographer and a musician, how could I not? The jam sessions, the genius unbalanced photographer, the photographs I have committed to memory. I’m afraid I didn’t hide my shock-and-awe very well. Perhaps just as surprising was her surprise that I should know the story. (I don’t just “know” the story. I’ve savored the story, envied the characters in it, probably romanticized it, and built myself into it. If you don’t know it, you can read about it here: )

I would love to tell you more about Sandy’s story, and in time I will, with her permission; how Gene wired her flat without her knowledge, recording not just jam sessions, but personal conversations as well; how he photographed her children but signed the prints with an alias. For now, though, I’m just going to bask in the connection I now have, however tenuous, with the artist whose photographs have influenced mine more than any other, whose prints have made me cry on more than one occasion, whose work and story every photographer should be required to study.

And I’ll share with you a portrait of Sandy, whose incredible story and personality I suspect will be inspiring me for a long time to come.

(If you’re reading this, Sandy, please stop blushing.)

A ship is passing now, the Federal Kumano, pulling the water in ripples behind it. Everything in its time.

Sandy

The unexpected beauty of chicken coops

Actually it was a turkey-and-quail coop. Whatever. It was still filled with flying, pooping critters, so it doesn’t make much difference.

The funny thing about great light is that you always find it in the strangest places. Bathrooms, greenhouses, the laundry room, any room you wouldn’t normally plan to shoot in. In this case, we were shooting at mid-day in ridiculous Arkansas heat, and I was in real need of some sort of awe-inspiring light — anywhere. So, into the coop we went.

Some would argue that use flash of some sort would give me more options. While that may be true, I actually like being forced to come up with some way of making the weird locations work. It challenges me to be creative (and sometimes funny.) More importantly, it requires me to be able to pull something out of my subjects that fits the mood of the environment. That’s not always easy, but as the saying goes, if it was easy, everyone would do it.

Happy light-chasing.

Let it be, let it be

My favorite thing about photo shoots is making them not feel like a photo shoot. I am just not a photo shoot kind of photographer. Who thinks it’s fun to prop people up and arrange their arms and legs like giant action figures? Do people really enjoy wearing stuffy clothes? Being buttoned up and starched with a plastic, plastered smile?

Nah. I so much prefer photographing kids in their favorite ratty dresses and superman capes, while their parents sip coffee in T-shirts and bare feet and the dog meanders through the living room and in front of the lens. And the baby crawls around diaperless like a naked time bomb. When clients ask me how their child should be dressed for a session, my usual response is:

“The morning of the session, when your daughter wakes up with crazy hair and wearing an old princess nightgown — don’t touch her. That’s perfect.”

I suppose the reasoning behind this preference of mine is that genuine memories can’t be built on artifice. Years from now, you’ll want to remember what your family life really looked and felt like — not what the photo session looked and felt like.

Let it be, let it be.

This is the general idea.

Deacon’s lesson

For the past several months, I’ve been working on a project documenting all the regulars at the local tavern. It’s one of those places where the same people have been coming for decades, while the tavern has changed hands and names, and everyone knows each other. The younger crowd tends to take over at night, but the “old crusties”, as we affectionately refer to them, still rule the roost.

It’s been great fun and a great honor (even if at times a GREAT challenge!) photographing all my friends. I’ve only needed one more portrait in order to call the project complete: Deacon, who arrives in his motorized wheelchair nearly every day at 11am, as he has been for forty years. The project wouldn’t be complete without him, and I’ve been meaning to do it for several weeks now. Unfortunately, I waited too long. Deacon passed away last week after making what looked like a good recovery from a stroke. He is greatly missed, and there’s an empty bar stool where he should be.

I’ve missed shots before because I assumed there would be another chance, but this one stings more than the others. My way of honoring Deacon will be to learn the lesson he taught me, once and for all. No more putting off the important things and taking tomorrow for granted.

This is the photograph of Deacon that I never took. It’s a fitting end to “the regulars”.

You can see the project in its entirety at http://www.cherylnicolai.com in “the regulars” gallery.

Fresh M.I.L.K.

 

Those who know me know that I’m not a big fan of art competitions.  But when I found the Fresh M.I.L.K. competition and saw it was judged by the one and only Elliott Erwitt, I couldn’t resist.

 

I had nearly forgotten that I’d entered when I received the notification that my image was selected for inclusion in the resulting book (PQ Blackwell, fall 2009).  Imagine my surprise when I saw my image on the cover!  The images selected for the book (150 out of 35,000 entries) are truly amazing, and it’s a huge honor to be included among them.  I would also love to congratulate Jodi Durow, who attended the Denver workshop earlier this year, on her inclusion in the book as well.

 

 

MILK image

 

 

book cover

Advice

To kick off my new blog (which I really will try to keep updated as best I can) I thought it appropriate to use this article as an anchor.  I first wrote it several years ago, and it’s been floating around the internet (albeit with “photographer” changed to such things as “hairdresser” and “scrapbooker” quite often) ever since.

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What Every Aspiring Photographer Should Know

These are my thoughts, nothing more and nothing less.

I get asked all the time, during workshops, in e-mails, in private messages, what words of wisdom I would give to a new and aspiring photographer. Here’s my answer.

- Style is a voice, not a prop or an action. If you can buy it, borrow it, download it, or steal it, it is not a style. Don’t look outward for your style; look inward.

- Know your stuff. Luck is a nice thing, but a terrifying thing to rely on. It’s like money; you only have it when you don’t need it.

- Never apologize for your own sense of beauty. Nobody can tell you what you should love. Do what you do brazenly and unapologetically. You cannot build your sense of aesthetics on a concensus.

- Say no. Say it often. It may be difficult, but you owe it to yourself and your clients. Turn down jobs that don’t fit you, say no to overbooking yourself. You are no good to anyone when you’re stressed and anxious.

- Learn to say “I’m a photographer” out loud with a straight face. If you can’t say it and believe it, you can’t expect anyone else to, either.

- You cannot specialize in everything.

- You don’t have to go into business just because people tell you you should! And you don’t have to be full time and making an executive income to be successful. If you decide you want to be in business, set your limits before you begin.

- Know your style before you hang out your shingle. If you don’t, your clients will dictate your style to you. That makes you nothing more than a picture taker. Changing your style later will force you to start all over again, and that’s tough.

- Accept critique, but don’t apply it blindly. Just because someone said it does not make it so. Critiques are opinions, nothing more. Consider the advice, consider the perspective of the advice giver, consider your style and what you want to convey in your work. Implement only what makes sense to implement. That doesn’t not make you ungrateful, it makes you independent.

- Leave room for yourself to grow and evolve. It may seem like a good idea to call your business “Precious Chubby Tootsies”….but what happens when you decide you love to photograph seniors? Or boudoir?

- Remember that if your work looks like everyone else’s, there’s no reason for a client to book you instead of someone else. Unless you’re cheaper. And nobody wants to be known as “the cheaper photographer”.

- Gimmicks and merchandise will come and go, but honest photography is never outdated.

- It’s easier to focus on buying that next piece of equipment than it is to accept that you should be able to create great work with what you’ve got. Buying stuff is a convenient and expensive distraction. You need a decent camera, a decent lens, and a light meter. Until you can use those tools consistently and masterfully, don’t spend another dime. Spend money on equipment ONLY when you’ve outgrown your current equipment and you’re being limited by it. There are no magic bullets.

- Learn that people photography is about people, not about photography. Great portraits are a side effect of a strong human connection.

- Never forget why you started taking pictures in the first place. Excellent technique is a great tool, but a terrible end product. The best thing your technique can do is not call attention to itself. Never let your technique upstage your subject.

- Never compare your journey with someone else’s. It’s a marathon with no finish line. Someone else may start out faster than you, may seem to progress more quickly than you, but every runner has his own pace. Your journey is your journey, not a competition. You will never “arrive”. No one ever does.

- Embrace frustration. It pushes you to learn and grow, broadens your horizons, and lights a fire under you when your work has gone cold. Nothing is more dangerous to an artist than complacency.

- CJ