As I've pointed out in past posts, I'm relatively new to photography as a pursuit.  That's not to say I'd never picked up a camera until the past couple of years.  Truth is, I actually owned a digital camera back in 2004, and even took a few shots with it that turned out fairly decent for a guy who hadn't the foggiest notion of what he was doing.  It was an Olympus D-500L, given to me by a friend who helped me put together the graphics for a blog I was running at the time.  It was a fine camera in its day ... a better camera than I was capable of using at the time, in fact.  You really needed to have an interest in photography to use it properly.  I had a passive interest at best.  And, not long after I got it, it just seemed to stop working.  So, what interest was kindled at the time shortly burned out.

All these years later, things have changed considerably -- to say the least.  I've become nearly obsessive about it.  In fact, the better part of my daily routine is consumed by, if not actually taking pictures, then reading about taking pictures, or looking at pictures taken by others.  If photography were a religion (and some would argue that it is), I'd be a cloistered monk.

Being the devout, pious servant to the photographic gods that I am, it was inevitable that I would find myself yearning for a little of that old time religion -- which is what drove me to avail myself to the camera pictured above.  The camera you see is the Pentax K1000, known as the quintessential student camera.  It's the very polar opposite of pretty much any camera produced in the past quarter of a century.  It does absolutely nothing for the photographer, unless you install a battery.  In that case, it shows you a needle on the righthand side of the viewfinder that tells you whether you're about to under or over-expose the shot you're trying to take -- then leaves it up to you to figure out what to do about it.

And, if you want to do anything about it, you have to use the bottom wheel with the numbers on it in the picture above.  Those numbers tell you how long your shutter is going to be open.  If you have the number 4 situated next to the little red arrow, that means your shutter is going to be open for 1/4 of a second.  If you have the number 1000 there, that means it'll be open for 1/1000th of a second.  The little green "B" stands for "Bulb" -- which means that the shutter will stay open as long as you hold down the shutter button.

If you notice, right next to the "B" and just above the marking that says "ASA", there's a little silver box.  That's a window in the shutter speed wheel that you use to tell the camera's light meter what the speed of your film is.  The speed tells you essentially how light-sensitive your film is.  The higher the ASA, or speed, number is, the more sensitive the film is to light.  But, at the same time, the more sensitive the film is, the grainier the photos it produces will be.  So, in film sensitivity as in most things in life, there are trade-offs.

So, when you load the film into the camera, you set the film speed in the little ASA window to help make sure you get the right exposure level.  To help guide you, Pentax included a light meter, as I mentioned above, which indiscates whether or not your shot, as currently set up in the camera, will be properly exposed.  You use it by looking into the viewfinder as you compose the shot, paying attention to a little floating needle on the right-hand side, with a plus sign at the top, and a minus sign at the bottom.  If the needle is floating upward toward the plus sign, it means that your shot will be overexposed. 

An overexposed shot will come out too bright with no detail in the highlights, or in extreme cases, will look like a complete white-out.  Conversely, an underexposed shot will look dark, and have less detail in the shadows -- or be completely blacked out in extreme cases.  And, of course, a properly exposed photo will have a good balance of both highlights and shadows, with plenty of detail in both.

So, what do you do if you've got your film in the camera, and you've set the ASA number correctly, and you've got your shot picked out, but the light meter needle in the viewfinder is pointing up toward the plus sign, telling you that your shot is going to be overexposed.  Well, you have a couple of options: (1) You can adjust the shutter speed so that the shutter won't be open as long, thus cutting back on the amount of light you expose the film to, or (2) you can adjust the size of the aperture.  You know ... the aperture.  Oh, I didn't get to that yet, did I?

Well, the aperture amounts to the hole that your lens uses to allow light to pass through on its way to the film.  As you can imagine, a larger hole allows more light through than a small one.  So, if you want to use your aperture to correct for a potentially overexposed shot, you simply adjust it down to a smaller size.  On this particular camera and lens, in order to do that, you use what's called the "aperture ring" on the lens.  If you take a look at the image above, you'll see a series of numbers (known as f-stops) on the lens near the body of the camera -- that's the aperture ring, and you use it by turning it so that your desired number lines up with the red mark in the center of those multi-colored lines.

Now, here's the tricky part.  You see, the aperture setting is similar to the shutter speed number in that, the higher it is, the less light passes through.  In other words, the higher the shutter speed number, the less time it stays open allowing light to pass through to the film.  The same goes for the aperture: The higher the number, the smaller the size of the hole (or aperture), thus allowing less light to pass through to the film.

So, now you've got your film speed set, your shot picked out, and you look through the viewfinder and see that, as you have thigs set up, it's going to be overexposed.  In order to fix that, you can either adjust the aperture to a smaller size, or you can adjust the shutter speed to a higher, or faster, number.  Or, you can use a combination of both -- a slightly faster shutter speed, plus a slightly smaller aperture, to cut back on the amount of light passing through to the film.

There are people who swear by using one method or the other in their photography, though I think that's less and less the case nowadays, in the digital age.  There are "shutter priority" photographers, and there are "aperture priority" photographers, depending on which method they prefer to use in controlling the amount of light allowed to pass through to the film (or image sensor, in the case of digital cameras).  Modern digital cameras allow for a pretty easy transition between the two of them, as each has certain benefits that some photographers prefer to use in their images.

For instance, if you're photographing a scene that has a lot of action and movement, and you want to freeze that movement, a good way to do that is to use a higher (faster) shutter speed, and then adjust the aperture to meet that shutter speed for proper exposure.  Alternatively, you could also use a higher-speed film if the extra amount of grain isn't a problem for you.  This would allow you to use a smaller aperture while using a higher shutter speed to allow you to capture faster-moving action.

In the image above (taken with my Pentax K-x digital SLR), you can see how the action was captured and frozen in a way that the human eye wouldn't be able to perceive in person -- unless you happen to have the eyes of Ted Williams, perhaps.  The shutter speed in this shot was 1/1250th of a second.  Granted, the highest shutter speed available on my Pentax K1000 film SLR is 1/1000th of a second.  In all likelihood, that would be fast enough to capture an image of this sort.  But, if you tried to take this shot with a shutter speed of, say, 1/20th of a second, it would have turned out to look like little more than a blue blur running behind the mop handle in the foreground.

Now, it may have been possible to capture that same image by using a wide-open aperture, thereby forcing you to use a higher shutter speed to achieve a proper exposure.  But, if you know you're going to be photographing a fast-moving object, and you want to make sure you capture the action in high detail, it makes sense that you'd use your shutter speed to ensure that you're able to freeze it, and then adjust your aperture size in order to ensure a correct exposure.  But, just as using shutter speed is a good way of capturing and freezing action, using the size of the aperture has benefits of its own.

For example, say you're in a situation where there's not a great deal of available light, and you'd like to photograph a scene, but don't have a tripod handy, or any sort of flash, and the film you're using is only ASA 200, which is a fairly low-sensitivity film.  You could elect to try using a slower shutter speed to allow more light in, but since you don't have a tripod, there's a good chance that the image will turn out blurry since you don't have a stable surface or foundation to place the camera on to keep it still.  In that situation, you're left with little choice but to make the best use of what light you have available while keeping the shutter speed high enough to avoid blurring the image due to camera shake.

In this case, you might consider opening up the aperture to allow as much light through the lens as possible, while adjusting the shutter speed upward as high as you can without underexposing the shot.

In the picture above, you can see there was very little light available.  And, since I was using my K-x, I did have a built-in flash, but it would have ruined the effect I was trying to capture in this shot -- which was the smooth motion of the smoke exiting the stacks on top of the fireboxes outside a local BBQ restaurant.  Since I didn't have a tripod, or any kind of stable surface to rest the camera on, my best option was to open up the aperture as wide as it would go.  As it happens, the maximum aperture on the lens I was using at the time was f/3.5.

By opening up the aperture all the way, and using a reasonably high sensitivity (though low enough to avoid a great deal of grain in the image), I was able to keep the shutter speed high enough to avoid getting a lot of blur from the movement of the camera -- 1/8th of a second.  So, by using a wide aperture and allowing the camera to adjust the shutter speed accordingly, I was able to get a good, clean shot in low light and retain a respectable level of detail in the image.

The single best feature of digital photography is that it allowed me to learn these basic principles in a relatively inexpensive way.  Before, the process of learning this much would have forced me to learn these things at a much slower pace, and at far greater expense.  Fortunately, I was able to do a great deal of experimentation, and see the results of my decisions instantly, and make the necessary adjustments right there on the spot.  Had I taken up photography in the film era, there's a better than even chance I would have quickly grown disillusioned and discouraged, and likely would have given up before my third roll of film.

What I've written above should not be taken as anything approaching expert commentary.  I am a neophyte. There is a great deal -- multiple volumes, in fact -- more to taking good photos than I have yet to learn, much less written here.  There are undoubtedly details I've left out, and perhaps some things that I've gotten wrong.  (Please feel free to correct me in the comments if that's the case.)  I hope to add to this in the near future as I learn more about the craft myself -- for instance, the gritty details of  f-stops and exposure metering.  In the meantime, I just wanted to post this little contribution for those who might have an interest in photography, but feel a bit overwhelmed by it all.

In a sense, in buying my first 35mm film SLR, I'm sending myself to a photography school for autodidacts, so I might as well take someone along with me if they're interested.  I hope to be able to post scans of some good prints from this effort in the not-too-distant future.  In the meantime, if I feel I have something to share that might be of benefit to anyone considering taking up the craft, I'll post it here and hope I don't steer anyone wrong.

Driving through the Ozark Mountains is a joy of its own, particularly in the fall.  The area abounds with foliage, and even in a year like this one, where the fall colors aren't as vivid as they typically would be, there are still plenty of sights to behold.  Because of that natural beauty, long drives that would normally be considered a shortcoming in other places have a way of becoming one of the benefits.  And, fortunately, most of the attractions of northwest Arkansas require a fairly lengthy drive from wherever you happen to be.

Our first long drive took us to Turpentine Creek, Arkansas where there's a big cat refuge.  Some of these animals have suffered immensely at the hands of former owners and were taken in by the sanctuary to avoid having to have them put down.  Others have been acquired from former owners who were no longer able to care for them.  Whatever their origins, they're all magnificent animals, very much worthy of the protection this sanctuary affords them.

We arrived at the site between feedings which, as anyone familiar with cats knows, means there was a good deal of sleeping going on.  But all the animals were in plain view, and close enough to get a good sense of their power and beauty, both of which are considerable.  Still, there's enough distance between spectators and the animals to minimize the any danger to curious children who might otherwise be tempted to put a hand through the bars to pet them.  (The best time to go, of course, is at feeding time, which is right around 4:00 p.m.)

The next day took us out to a Wild Wilderness Drive-Thru Safari located in Gentry, Arkansas.  Again, it was a fairly long drive -- approximately an hour from our location in Bella Vista.  And, again, the drive over had plenty of scenery to enjoy along the way.  Though, (no offense to the good people who live there) when passing through the little town of Clifty, you might want to prepare yourself for its unique fragrance, which is the result of it being the site of a fertilizer plant.  But, it's a brief and minor inconvenience to the uninitiated, and can be avoided if you simply roll up your windows while passing through.

Our visit to the safari proved to be one of the highlights of the trip, and any animal lover will be thrilled by it.  Upon pasing through the main gate to the range, we immediately encountered a very curious emu.  In fact, scattered throughout the safari is a whole host of curious emus which walked right up to the car as if to see who was inside.  At one point, it felt like we were being shaken down by a gang of them, some of which positioned themselves in such a way as to prevent us from going anywhere without some form of payment.  They eventually gave up and moved on, but the standoff lasted a good five minutes.  (You don't want to get out of the car to try and reason with them, or call their bluff, by the way.  That would not be a good idea.)

There are hundreds of exotic animals to see, many of which are close enough to touch (again, not a good idea).  Camels, llamas, emus, ostriches, and some of the deer seemed to be the most curious of all.  There were a few times when I had to hustle to get fully back into the car when I was taking photos with my head and shoulders above the sunroof.  My biggest fear, of course, was being spat upon by a surly camel, displeased with my presence.  My secondary fear was getting camel saliva on my camera lens, which tends to be delivered in rather copious quantities.

As you can see from the photos, there's a fairly broad range of wildlife to be seen.  The images represent a tiny fraction of them, and only the tiny fraction of photos I took that turned out well enough to share.  Just getting these shots made the whole trip a thrill for me, and given a chance to return, I'd jump at it in an instant.

 

 

Before going on my trip, I had never heard of Picher, Oklahoma.  I certainly wish I had, as it's one of the most fascinating places I've ever been.  In the far, northeast corner of Oklahoma, right on its border with Kansas, Picher was once a booming mining town where lead was extracted from the earth to supply America's ammunition in both World War I and II, as well as the zinc needed to produce galvanized steel.

Tragically, the mining of these heavy metals eventually caused an environmental disaster that would lead to the town being evacuated by all but a few defiant residents.  The water supply was slowly being poisoned and the ground beneath much of the town's infrastructure began to subside, causing sinkholes large enough to swallow buildings.  Now, all that's left of the town, aside from the homes of a few determined souls, is rubble and gigantic piles of mine trailings -- essentially grit and chat of the consistency of pea gravel.

As if the disaster created by the mining weren't bad enough, Picher was struck by a massive tornado in 2008, which claimed the lives of at least six of its last remaining residents.  Debris from the storm is still scattered throughout the town and on the mounds of mine trailings.  Twisted metal can be found wrapped around trees, entangled in fences, and scattered along the roadsides throughout town.  Large trees, twisted and snapped, show the power of the storm, rated as an F-4 with wind speeds of at least 175 mph.

And everywhere you look, you're confronted with the humanity that left the town behind.  Photographs, children's toys, handwritten declarations of love all bring a poignancy to a place that, in all other respects, calls to mind a post-apocalyptic wasteland.  There are sounds, however, to remind you that life does persist in even the bleakest of places.  An occasional dog bark echoes through the streets.  The sound of trucks rolling through what was once a busy thoroughfare, stopping at a stop sign if only for reasons of legality, or out of pure ritual.  And, somehow, the chirping of birds makes it seem all the more desolate.

This is the first time photography has conflicted with my sense of humanity.  While it would be wonderful to someday read that Picher has sprung back to life and brought prosperity and happiness to a new generation of industrious people looking to create a new frontier on top of what was once the old frontier, the photographer in me wants it to stay frozen in time forever.

In the end, I suspect both the human and the photographer will be disappointed.  But, I'll be forever grateful to my guide, Ted Beilby, for showing me one of the most heartbreaking, yet endlessly engrossing, places I've ever been.

Having just returned from a trip to northwestern Arkansas, I come loaded with photos to share.  Some of them turned out pretty well, others didn't.  But, all in all, I can't complain.  I was in a rush to take in as much scenery as I possibly could and didn't devote as much care to getting the shots "just right" as I probably should have.

But, there are some places that just lend themselves to photography, and this part of Arkansas is one of them.  I arrived just after peak foliage, though there was still plenty of color to be captured.  And, given what I heard from my guide -- a photographer from Fayetteville, Arkansas named Ted Beilby -- this year wasn't the best for foliage due to a very dry summer and the lack of a true cold snap this far into the fall.

Ted took me to several different areas full of beautiful scenery on our first outing -- places like Lost Valley, Boxley Valley, Steel Creek, and War Eagle Mill.  And, while the waterfalls of Lost Valley weren't flowing due to the dry summer, it still provided plenty in the way of scenic beauty.  I managed to take over 1000 photos on my trip, well over half of which I took while under Ted's wing.  I've culled small sample here to give a taste of what it's like in the Ozark Mountains in early November.

The weather cooperated wonderfully for the entire duration of the trip.  This particular day -- November 10 -- provided intense blue skies and sunshine during the earliest part of the day, and some moderate cloud cover later on to help shield the sun while it sat high in the sky, helping to prevent extreme contrast between light and shadows.

The photos of the dog were taken at War Eagle Mill, and I just had to include them as it was one of the amusing highlights of the trip.  She apparently belongs to the owners of the mill, and greets visitors as they arrive -- as she did Ted and me.  As we were nearing the end of our stay there, I walked around to the back of the mill to take a few shots of the river that runs alongside.  On the way, I spotted a few slices of what appeared to be cinnamon raisin bread lying on the ground, and figured someone had been using it to feed the ducks and geese that paddle around in the river.

Apparently, I was mistaken.  It seems I had stumbled upon the pooch's hiding place for her food.  And, when she discovered that I was back there, she quickly came to snatch up her bread and find a place to bury it where ne'er-do-wells like myself wouldn't steal it.  In the last shot I took of her, she's carrying the bread in her mouth in order to do just that.

As a child, aside from Christmas, there was no more eagerly anticipated holiday than Halloween.  Dressing up was almost as much fun as the gluttony that awaited at the end of those cool, often rainy nights.  And, in spite of all the carping about sugar-stimulated tykes, most adults would have to admit they enjoy it nearly as much as the kids do.

Last night, my niece dropped by with her baby, Kaylynn, who was dressed up as a scary, giant ladybug.  Not yet a year old, she doesn't yet understand the hubbub of Halloween.  Yet, she clearly enjoyed being dressed up in her terrifying outfit.

She's just reaching the age where she's crawling around with abandon, exhibiting the limitless curiosity of a toddler-to-be.  Photographing her was nearly as much of a challenge as capturing a bird in flight.  Even in broad daylight, children can be difficult to capture in the frame.  And trying to take a decent picture of perpetual motion incarnate with the slow shutter speeds of low-light situations is nearly impossible without utilizing the upper end of the camera's ISO (i.e., light sensitivity) capabilities -- which causes the images to come out looking grainy.

One of my pet peeves as a photographer is finding myself being forced to use flash.  I simply do not like the way images look when it's used -- invariably washed out and flat-looking to my eye.  And, given the fact that I was using my shortest focal range lens, I could only imagine what butchery the harsh light would have given these photos had I not wrapped a white tissue around the pop-up flash on my camera.

As it happens, the shots I took turned out better than I'd expected.  And, so, Kay-Bug's first Halloween has been captured and preserved for all time on the internet.  Looking back, I can only say I'm somewhat relieved this technology didn't exist in my youth, when I was dressing up as the various members of KISS.

About an hour's drive away from where I live is a drag strip in Sikeston, MO.  I've been going there several times a summer for the past few years with a good friend of mine who's been going nearly every saturday for the past ten years.  As I metioned in a previous post, it's where I was bitten by the photography bug.

Yesterday was the last race of the season, with the next beginning in May (if I'm not mistaken), so I was compelled to go and take photos.  I had a few white balance and focusing issues, as you may be able to tell by looking at the images I've psted here.  I spent a few hours trying to clean them up as best I could.

While drag racing does make for good photography, it's much more exciting to be there than it is to look at the photos, which tend toward monotony due to the limited number of angles available for shooting.  And, of course, a great deal of the shooting takes place in broad daylight, where shadows can be unkind -- particularly on sunny days.  That was another challenge I faced yesterday, but I did the best I could given the circumstances and managed to come out with a few decent shots.

I've posted rather small copies of them simply to make uploading and viewing less time consuming.  As a result, there may be some compression artifacts in the displayed images.  Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about that.  But, the intent of this entry isn't so much to showcase my photography as it is to give a sense of the action that takes place at a drag race.  I hope I can pull that off at least.

This one is a bit of a milestone for me, as it has been accepted to the official Pentax Photo Gallery.

I took it one evening as I stepped outside my favorite Friday night hangout, which is located right next door, to have a smoke.  I noticed the light streaming through the stained glass windows of the church and thought to myself, "That could make an interesting shot."  Luckily, I always carry my camera with me -- even at the risk of being thought of as "that guy with the camera" wherever I go.

When I got home and took a look at it, I was pleasantly surprised at the vividness of the colors and couldn't help noticing how much the called to mind a roll of Life Savers candy.  At that point, it dawned on me just how apt a title that would make for the photo.

A few weeks ago, I decided to suck it up and submit some of my photos to the Pentax web site on the off-chance that they just might be accepted.  This was the first one of the bunch (the rest are currently still under review), and I couldn't be more proud to have it chosen.  No matter how many times your friends, family, and even casual acquanitances tell you that your work is good, you never really believe it until something like this happens.

Well, I'm almost ready to believe now.

This is my longtime pal, The Cheat.  He's been my close personal bud for several years now.  I've lost count.  But, we became fast friends one cold winter night as I was leaving my local Fraternal Order of Eagles, where I work part-time as a bartender.

The night before, I discovered that I had quite a severe mouse problem.  It seems they had gnawed their way into several packages of food I had stored in my kitchen cabinets -- Hamburger Helper, hot cocoa mix, oatmeal.  At the time, it seemed so bad, I was sure it would take herculean efforts to get the issue under control.  And I wasn't even convinced that would take care of it.

But, as I was leaving work that night, a large orange cat ambled up to me and said, "Dude."  He looked like he'd been out on his own for a while, though he wasn't particularly emaciated and didn't show any signs of disease.  And, he was clearly tame, as evidenced by the fact that he walked up to me and said, "Dude."  So, I squatted down and scratched him on the head.  I figured he belonged to someone and had just wandered off as tomcats are known to do.

After a brief introduction, I walked toward my car.  He followed.  And, when I opened my car door, he started to climb in.

At first, I was resistant.  "No, you can't come ..." and then it hit me.  "I have mice.  He could probably help me with that!"  So, I let him in the car and took him home with me.  Unfortunately, I didn't have any cat food (or a litter box!) at the time.  And he was obviously hungry.  So, I opened a can of tuna and gave it to him.  Then, I set my alarm for 5:30 AM so I could run to the store and pick up some food and restroom facilities for him.  (Most of the tuna was still there when I woke up.  He's surprisingly indifferent to it.)

The next night, after falling asleep on the couch, I was stirred by something touching my hand.  I shook off the cobwebs and saw my new pal, who I had named "The Cheat" looking at me.  I mumbled a half-hearted "quit", turned my head, and tried to go back to sleep.  Again, with the tap on the hand.  I turned my head back around to shoo him away, only to be confronted with the remains of a mouse approximately three inches from my groggy countenance.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Just about every decent aspect of this shot came about through sheer, blind luck. 

It's the cantilever bridge over the Mississippi River between Cairo, Illinois and Bird's Point, Missouri.  Despite having traveled over it countless times in my life, I never really noticed the appealing characteristics of it.  This is largely due to the fact that it's a particularly narrow bridge, and I spend most of my time wondering if a side mirror will be knocked off by a passing semi truck.

What makes this image an unlikely favorite of mine is a combination of factors, any one of which could have sent it to the recycle bin.  For instance, it was shot through the windshield of a pickup truck that was somehow free of glare despite the high angle of the sun.  Additionally, for the first time ever in my memory of crossing over it, there wasn't any oncoming traffic.  And, finally, when I loaded it into the computer after I got home and looked at it, I very nearly discarded it for the simple fact that, in color, it looked like any other picture anyone ever took while crossing a bridge.

Still, there was something about it that made me keep looking.  And, after several rounds of culling junk, it finally dawned on me that it was the lines of the structure itself, and the shadows it cast on the pavement.  Those shadows weren't immediately obvious in color, but when converted over to black and white, they really popped, as did the lines of the steel beams. 

And, so, an improbable set of circumstances colluded to turn what, by all rights, should have been a junk photo into a one of my favorite photos of the summer.

As I mentioned in first post about bird photography, my interest in taking photos really took off when I borrowed my father's Canon point-and-shoot to take photos at a nearby drag strip in Sikeston, MO.  If you've never been to one, and you have any interest in cars at all, you owe it to yourself to attend at least one drag race in your life. 

Aside from the incredible horsepower generated by these machines, there's the beauty of classic American muscle cars that recall the height of Detroit's greatness.  As you can see from this photo, the owners of these cars dedicate as much effort to the aesthetics as they do the mechanics of them.

In this shot, you can see a good illustration of the sense of action and movement I sought to capture when I started taking photos at the races.  Note the wrinkling of the sidewalls on the rear tires, and the way the front wheels are pulled off the ground as this 1968 Camaro leaves the starting line.  You can imagine the horsepower and torque required.  And you can see how this sort of thing might cause someone to take an interest in photography.