Resident
Today was a good day: as of this afternoon I am officially the photographer in residence for the British Humanist Association. I intended to be all eloquent about it on Twitter, but all that came out was 'Yay!', which pretty much sums it up. I'm chuffed, excited, and very happy to be associated with such splendid people. I have plans.
Winter in Transylvania
This is something new:
They're from a remarkably atmospheric series called Winter in Transylvania. The processing is interesting - I don't know what they've done, but the saturation is definitely quirky, and the overall effect is lovely. Great to see such work under a Creative Commons license, too.
Via Photojojo ♥s Tumblr.
Pet portraits
Lots of modern compact cameras detect faces. They recognise face-like shapes, and keep them in focus when the picture is taken. It's a good idea, and seems to work well. Admittedly there are some problems with recognising all the different face-shapes in the world, although these generally seem to be through lack of testing rather than (somewhat unlikely) overt racism. There is, however, one obvious, glaring, flaw: for all the photographs of people, there are at least as many of pets. Enter Fujifilm's FinePix Z700EXR, which can supposedly detect dogs and cats. That must be some impressive software. I mean, if they're struggling with the variances in people...
Maybe I'm thinking about this upside down, though - Fuji may have simply developed a cuteness detector.
I'm assuming there's also a dangle-a-biscuit-in-front-of-the-lens button, because otherwise there's no way they're looking at the lens long enough for canine detectors to kick in.
- pretty sure this is the dog equivalent of the kid from Love Actually [↩]
Photographing earthquake victims
I had a couple of spats this evening, both on and off-line, over the ethics of an AFP photo from the Haitian earthquake. I won't post it directly as it's a little distressing, but it's picture 5/16 on this BBC slideshow. It shows a girl, alive but buried up to her waist in rubble.
I tweeted that someone should ask the photographer why the hell they took it. This fell out of my general opinion that photojournalists shouldn't be photographing in situations where they could be helpful in saving lives. And this photo felt like one of those times.
There are situations where this photo would be ok. If there's a team of rescuers figuring out the best way to pull her out, and the photographer is no use - fine. But I first saw the shot at 7 this morning1, and the timing suggested the photo was taken in post-quake chaos, where it's all hands on deck to get the survivors out. It's entirely possible that I'm wrong, that I shouldn't have said anything without all the facts, and that it's a morally defensible image. It just seems unlikely to me.
There's also the argument that imagery is needed to get the word out. Which is true. But you only need one camera crew...
Anyway. The ethics of photojournalism aside, it's obviously a horrific situation. The Red Cross is the place to go.
Update: It looks like the guy who took that picture may well have been the only photographer around - the real disaster-zone shots on The Big Picture are all by him. All the Corbis images are here (warning: some graphic shots).
- then it was on the front of the Evening Standard, which reminded me [↩]
The Self and The Penis
This term at uni was rather odd. There was surprisingly little work, and very few lectures. Of the few, though, two stood out. One was about properly interesting philosophy, although nothing to do with photography. And one was about how racism is caused by penises.
You see, when you're growing up you pay a lot of attention to parental genitalia. It may seem like you don't, but let's pretend you do. If you're male, you get very upset that your mother doesn't have a penis. If you're female, you get very upset that your father has a penis and you don't. You then go through 'mirror stages' and formulate the concept of the Other, and eventually your penis-based psychological trauma manifests itself in conveniently subconscious and unfalsifiable ways that result in us all being racist. The lecturer in question was a PhD student at my university. She was very enthusiastic about her subject. We were less so.
I've been moaning about the psychoanalytic bullshit on my course for a couple of years now, and I still find it irritating as hell. Previous years were at least fairly academic: here's some Freudian drivel about why we look at photographs the way we do, blah, whatever. But the causes of racism aren't academic - that's a pretty important subject, and I have a huge problem with lecturers spouting spectacularly stupid crap to people who may well believe them (through no fault of their own - it's reasonable to expect uni lecturers to know what they're talking about). Especially when you're implying that a) we're all racist and b) there's nothing we can do about it.
There was some skepticism in the room, I'm pleased to say. A couple of the second years made her clarify some evasive language. As ever with psychoanalysis, it was all dressed up to maintain a veneer of respectability: your mother not having a penis is called 'the lack', presumably so they don't have to keep saying the word 'penis', and so you can just say stuff like 'the lack causes us to behave differently' and pretend you're not talking shit. But we made her spell it out, penises and all, just so we were clear. This was quite funny. Then another of the younger students queried, magnificently, whether we were learning this for historical context or we were meant to believe it was true. The answer was muddy, and eventually we asked outright if there was any evidence. We were told the guy who came up with it thought it was true. So that's all right. I eventually got her to say out loud it was 'just a theory'1, but it was a brief moment of lucidity.
So that was pretty annoying. A couple of weeks later, though, the course redeemed itself with the most interesting lecture we've ever had. A lecture that actually inspired me to willingly research the topic, which is, um, rare.
We'd been given a David Hume essay on 'the self' - essentially our inner experience of our own consciousness. But, rather than simply go through the essay, in this lecture we were taken on a grand story, beginning with Decartes and ending with Hume, explaining the different philosophical arguments. Decartes had his famous 'I think therefore I am', from which he derived, well, some dubious stuff, but was still pretty clever. Then Hume came along and demolished this concept of 'I', pointing out that his own inner experience consists of a bunch of perceptions, which are linked only by memory, which isn't necessarily reliable. 'I' is therefore at least a bit problematic.
I found it all very interesting, and it wasn't presented in any kind of dogmatic way. The only problem came at the end, when the lecturer linked it to photography. Firstly, this was surprisingly dull by comparison, and secondly, he did so by referencing Cindy Sherman, which is a bit of a cheat.
Cindy Sherman is a bingo photographer. We sit in lectures with so-far-theoretical bingo cards, ready to stamp the names of Cindy Sherman, Rineke Dijkstra, Andreas Gursky and - above all others - Bernd and Hilla Becher. As a general rule, three of the four will turn up (always the Bechers - despite their portfolio consisting entirely of industrial buildings). If you get all four, there are Not Really Prizes. Anyway - Cindy Sherman's most famous work saw her photographing herself in various film-like scenes - I've put a couple of shots on the right. She's often unrecognisable from one image to the next, and so this was linked to the Hume concept of the self: what does it mean to say we are always the same person?
Thing is, Cindy Sherman is massively ambiguous. You can read a lot into her images, and nobody will ever tell you you're wrong. Feminism, politics, film theory, even philosophical concepts of the self - you can make arguments for all these interpretations (and people have). I suppose you'd have trouble saying Cindy Sherman was about soup, but I bet you could give it a go. None of which is to say anything about the quality of the photography (if you believe in such things) just that it's sometimes suspiciously easy to corral it into an argument.
So the photography part of the lecture was a bit weak, but the philosophy fascinating. We have to write an essay on something we've found interesting this term, so I figured I'd read up on the latter. This sent me on a fascinating journey through Greek/Roman/medieval/Renaissance/Enlightenment attitudes to the self, which intrinsically links into discussions of the roles of faith and reason2, then the various political theories that fell out of these concepts. It's been great. I have learnt a lot. Unfortunately, none of it has much to do with photography.
You may be thinking: you're doing the wrong degree. And you may well be right. But I do enjoy the practical side, and I only have 17 months to go, and I'm going to get through it, dammit. In this case I think I've been saved by the aforementioned ambiguity. You can find photographers to back up whatever you like. I've got a bunch who are "clearly" discussing the differing relations of subject to state, and the inner experience thereof, as regards Greeks vs. civilizations with absolute rulers. It's obvious, just like Cindy Sherman.
So I've finished an unsatisfactory term with an essentially historical/philosophical essay, plus some photographs to pretty it up. This may be taking the mickey - we'll see. However, I'd rather have too much history and too little photography than it be entirely about penises.
Macro macro man
A couple of months ago an amazingly kind friend donated me a macro lens. It has made me happy.
Macro lenses focus at extremely short distances, and generally allow 1:1 magnification, meaning an object can be the same size on the film/CCD as it is in real life. To demonstrate how excellent this is, here is a regular-lens photo of my new chum, Colonel Frank:
Colonel Frank has taken up residence in my bathroom, and is the reason my portable radio is now misnamed. Still, he is my friend. And as with all my friends, I wanted a decent picture of him. Unfortunately Colonel Frank is pretty tiny - he's, what, 2mm across? - so I broke out the macro lens:
Hopefully you'll agree that's a much better shot of him. I'm quite pleased with it.
The challenge with macro lenses is the tiny depth-of-field: as you're so close to an object, even tiny movements are a large percentage of the distance, so it's very difficult to keep objects in focus without a tripod (or whatever). In this case the problem was compounded by the web wavering in the heat from a radiator, and I was very lucky to get this hand-held shot. Even so, if you look at the full-size version you'll see that Colonel Frank's back leg (you can see the hairs!) is in focus while his near-side legs are not. That's pretty amazing.
In short: macro lenses are awesome. I like. While my friend is quite possibly sick of my saying this, I must once again thank him for the very kind gift.
Yosemite starlight
Here's a beautiful time-lapse video of Yosemite:
I think that's gorgeous, and not a little moving (though the music helps). I highly recommend clicking through to YouTube's large HD version. Oh man, the shooting stars. This would have been entirely appropriate for Carl Sagan day, were I not a few hours late.
It was made using the camera of my dreams: the Canon EOS 5D Mark II. While this camera can record 1080p HD videos (and very lovely they are too) the above was actually made using a dolly with a stepper motor, allowing it to move-shoot-move.
It's harder than it looks, too. That level of astronomical detail generally requires a long exposure time, but too much and the stars will be blurred: they move faster than you might think1. A couple of the shots cleverly centre on the celestial north pole, which lessens this effect - stars closer to the pole will move more slowly, and you can actually see some blurring of stars at the far edges - but most aren't. I guess it's Yosemite, so there's little problem with light pollution, but you still need a hell of a camera to pull off that kind of detail, at fast-ish shutter speeds, without noise. Sigh.
Via (amazingly) Technorati.
- the moon is worse - anything over 1/8s will be blurred [↩]
Photographing a celebrant conference
I spent last weekend photographing the annual conference of celebrants - the Humanists who perform non-religious weddings, funerals and naming days - and I had a fine time. I was photographing everybody there, and after meeting so many people I have learnt that celebrants a) are incredibly nice b) have truly excellent anecdotes - I spent most of my free time just sitting around, listening. One memorable story told of a biker funeral at which 500 people turned up in leathers, with the coffin in a sidecar hearse. I admit to being slightly skeptical about the latter, but google quickly turned up this. That's pretty cool - as much as anything at a funeral is 'cool', anyway - and is nicely fitting.
A few people asked if I was interesting in training as a celebrant, and while it definitely appeals I figure I'm too young. The average person there was probably ~50, with the youngest (hopefully I'm not offending anyone here) in their late 30s. I said so, and was independently told this wasn't true - in fact, youth could well be a positive thing. I wondered whether a funeral might require a certain gravitas that can only come with age, but the celebrants I spoke to thought people who wanted a humanist funeral wouldn't be bothered by something like that. Interesting. It's certainly an incredibly positive, fulfilling thing to do, and I'd like to help. Maybe when uni's over.
---
Photographically, it was a big job, so I hired a few toys useful bits of equipment, which were great fun very useful on the day. My friend Young Jim helped me test it all on the Friday, then came along to help at the weekend. Jim is just completing his PhD in physics at Oxford, so I used him as a voice-activated light stand. He was invaluable - enduring endless lighting test shots, managing queues of people, holding reflectors, spotting people walking off with my pen; it would have been far more difficult without him, and I owe him many thanks.
We went for a high-key look, with a completely white background and a bright subject, and I was very pleased with the results. This was especially pleasing as they came from a very lightweight Strobist setup of one umbrella, two flashes and a sheet. Our lighting setup covered quick-fire individual shots of all the attendees, and was pleasingly adaptable to a few couple-shots.
The only problem we had was a group shot of ~75 people, which we cleverly decided was best slotted in just before dinner. Note: do not ever try to slot in anything just before dinner. We had maybe two minutes to arrange everyone into something vaguely neat, and Jim handled this while I quickly became aware my wide-angle wasn't going to be wide enough without standing on chairs, moving tables and backing off halfway across the room, all while 75 people looked hungrily at the bread rolls. The shot came out ok, although not great, and we'll certainly know to do things differently next time.
Overall, it was great. I learnt a lot and met some fine people. I could get used to this.
Visiting Brighton and the Labour Conference
Last Tuesday I headed down to Brighton to take some photos at the Labour conference. Both the town and the event were new to me, and it was a fun day.
I stayed overnight in Dorking - a couple of hours drive from Stratford - and headed into Brighton at just gone 07:00. Traffic was surprisingly light, but parking was difficult. I was hoping it'd be as easy as when I photographed the Dawkins event at last week's Lib Dem conference: I parked outside the hotel. This wasn't possible in Brighton due to tank-proof concrete barriers and men with frankly-excessive machine guns1. I swung up into town to find a car park, and the first had a large queue as the police searched every body/car. I figured I didn't need that hassle, so eventually found an extra-expensive NCP multi-storey and walked down to the seafront. It was a lovely morning, and I found myself wondering - as always, when I'm outside at that time - why I don't get up early more often.
I was there to photograph the BHA's no-prayer breakfast - with secular pastries! - and it went pretty well. There was a good turnout, with A C Grayling, Lord Macdonald and Kelvin Hopkins MP answering questions amiably as everyone indulged in probably too much chocolate for that time of the morning. It was also nice to see blogging chum Mr Skuds in the audience, and we had a chat afterwards.
I was done by 09:30, so wandered around for a bit. I hadn't been to a party conference before - not inside the secure areas, anyway - so everything was new. The hotels are crammed full of booths owned by all sorts of groups and organisations, all trying to attract Labour members and MPs. They often give stuff away (although I hear the real goodies are found at the Tory conference this year) and at the Terrence Higgins Trust booth I was handed free condoms - those'll be handy - as well as a frisbee (with a disappointing lack of tossing jokes). I also had a go in their STI tombola and was pronounced clean of infection, so there's no need to wash after reading this. Despite this I was curiously ignored by most booths, probably because I was carrying a large-ish camera and looked like one of the many professional photographers milling around, so was free to walk around unhindered and peek into the conference hall (my pass wouldn't let me in, sadly) where Gordon Brown would speak later that day. It's odd to see these important, glamorous tv-locations first-hand - it's just like a big room. This is possibly not the most profound observation ever.
Eventually I ran out of things to see, so I left the secure zone and walked up the rocky beach for a while, taking the occasional photo but mostly just enjoying the quiet. I eventually started worrying about sunburn, though, so headed into town in search of food. It was only 11:30 by this point, despite feeling like mid-afternoon, but once I'd decided where to eat - there were about a billion possible cafes, all of which were perfect for me - the resulting fish and chips was most welcome.
In a curious fit of culture, I next decided to visit the Brighton Museum. This immediately proved a mistake, with the main hall displaying varying furniture styles from 1800-the present. This was, well, dull as shit, and I wondered how long I could pretend to myself that I was having a good time. Then, through a doorway, I spotted some Egyptian sarcophagi. Now you're talking. Turns out some dude born in Brighton excavated lots of Egypt, so the museum has a fair bit of the resulting loot. This was better. Hieroglyphics, weaponry, mummified kittens...this is what museums are for.
My faith in culture was completely restored until I exited the exhibition and saw this:

It's like a Photoshop Disaster of the 1800s. What the hell is going on with his right leg? No wonder the dog looks nervous. Why would you hang this up anywhere? Why?
Anyway. By this point I was somewhat sleep-deprived, so had a doze in the car for a couple of hours before heading down to the sea for golden hour. I walked up the almost-deserted pier as the sun set, then headed back to the beach for the final rays. I'm quite pleased with some of the resulting photos:
After that it was off to a Bloggers4Labour meetup, which just happened to be on the same day. The very friendly Andrew, Mr Skuds and Tom were there, and I finally got to meet Damian, who I've been communicating with electronically for years. I hadn't been to a meetup for a few years, so it was cool to see people in person. I couldn't stay for too long, sadly, as I didn't want to be too tired on the ~3hr drive home, but I'm glad I hung around town.
- seriously, what's that going to achieve that a handgun isn't? Are the BNP trenches going to go over the top? [↩]













