Photography Shoot Planning: Part 2

In my previous post (Photography Shoot Planning: Part 1) I started this series by talking about tools.

As I said in that post I didn't want the focus of this topic to be tools. I was conscious that it may come across as talking about the tools rather than using them, a fairly common curse on the internet!

The other danger was that it made shoot planning seem convoluted when in fact most of the time I use one or two of those tools. As someone suggested, the previous post outlines the "toolbox" we have available rather than prescribing use of them all.

So in this post I'll share some thoughts on how I use those tools. Even then, given it's condensed into a blog post it might seem like there's a an awful lot to think about when in actual fact there's relatively little planning required.

Not all shoots are the same. Sometimes we dash out the door to grab a quick shot, other times it's a pre-planned day out, other times it's a trip of a lifetime. These require really quite different levels of preparation and I've structured the post around those different requirements. Again these aren't absolute, they aren't fixed, and what you need to prepare for is somewhat geography dependent. They're just to give an insight not a plan to follow (again, plans are bad, preparation is good).

Let's dive in!

Couple of Hours "Snatch and Grab"

These types of trips are quite common, and are often spur of the moment when I'm either at a loose end or the light is looking good.

My key thoughts here are that I want to minimise travel time to maximise shooting time. Over the last few years of shooting in my local area I've started to build-up a mental list of locations, what subjects I will find there (trees, rocks, waterfalls, etc.), and what time of day and weather they may look at their best.

If it's a dramatic sky I'm heading for somewhere with a bit of elevation and interesting subjects. If it's overcast I head for waterfalls, or perhaps some murky and moody shots on the hills nearby. Sometimes I don't really care what the weather is doing and I just want to get out, so the extent of my planning is picking up my car keys and my camera bag.

In previous posts I've talked about how familiarity helps. Knowing your local patch and committing to spending time there is a great way to get that "where do I go?" monkey off your back. Planning becomes as simple as thinking through that list and picking one that takes your fancy, and over time this becomes automatic and intuitive rather than conscious thought.

It's not a case of picking the "best" location because you really don't know if it or another will really be best. You just need somewhere that you think has good potential and from there let your creativity takes its course.

Prearranged Morning or Evening

I expect like many of yous, with a family and a full time job the amount of time I get out shooting is limited. Especially through winter with late sunrises and short evenings it's difficult to get time out with the camera other than at weekends.

So a morning or an afternoon at the weekend is when I do most of my photography. I normally go in the morning as this tends to disrupt family time the least as they're still in bed!

At the start of the week I'll have a look at the forecast for the weekend to see what morning is looking the most promising. What I'm generally looking to avoid is clear skies, persistent and/or heavy rain, and strong winds. What I'd prefer is partial cloud, showers or even overcast. There are other phenomenon I'll keep an eye out for - such fog or even better an inversion (where you can climb a peak and be above the "clouds"), heavy frost, snow, etc. Ultimately though I've got two days to choose from and I just need to pick the one that looks the most encouraging.

Again the type of weather helps me consider my options. Overcast? Waterfalls or woodland. Foggy? Woodland, or perhaps rocks/isolated trees on the moors nearby. Broken cloud or showers? One of the gritstone edges for an interesting sunrise and/or subsequent dramatic light. Inversion? Somewhere up high. Clear skies? Perhaps waterfalls during twilight, or most likely stay in bed!

With more time I'm able to travel further afield and so my options increase. Even then I try to keep a manageable list of locations in my head - I have my local locations, and then locations deeper into the Peak District such as Mam Tor, Padley Gorge, Stanage Edge, etc. that are between 30 and 60 minutes travel.

I want to keep travel under an hour as though I've got more time a 2 hour round trip eats into that.

Again I'm pretty familiar with the locations I'm visiting so I know how to get to them, how long it will take, where to park, how to get from the car park to the site, etc. I don't really have to think about this too much, though I try to remember to check for road closures as we have relatively few routes in/out from where I am so snow or roadworks can disrupt things quite a bit.

Multi-Location

Depending on the weather, or how I'm feeling I'll look at making my morning a multi-location trip.

If for example there's broken cloud around sunrise followed by overcast, then I'll want to be "up top" for sunrise and then go shooting woodland or waterfalls. Obviously this adds to travel time so I try to pick locations that aren't too far apart or otherwise would be on my route.

For example I'm a big fan of Higger Tor or Over Owler for sunrise combined with Padley Gorge or Bolehill Quarry for waterfalls and trees as they are literally 5 minutes drive apart. This gives me the best light combined with the (to me) more interesting secondary location.

When I do a multi-location I can sometimes be too anxious to do both locations. If things are going well at the first site it's best to banish distracting and frustrating thoughts of "is it better at site 2?". If it's good, it's good. The light could vanish while you're in transit so just make the most of it.

Scouting Trip

A scouting trip isn't really that much different from the above. I'm probably still going out on a weekend morning. Although I have a list of regular locations, I keep my eyes open for new ones and will make a note of them on a "visit one day" list along with some notes. On occasion,  especially if I've been getting out to my regular spots a lot, I'll check out one of these locations or go a bit further afield.

There's normally a stimulus to adding something to my list. Perhaps I've heard there's a great waterfall, or I've seen an image with a great view, or I know there's some interesting woodland, etc. It's fair to say that I have a bit of a picture in my mind of what I will find there and so I need to banish that a little so that I can do my own thing.

Then again, I don't mind taking the expected or obvious shot to free myself to then do my exploring on the same or a subsequent trip. I probably won't have huge expectations from this trip I'm just getting a feel for the place really.

I'm probably less familiar with routes in and out, car parking, etc so I try to do some research to help me get a better feel for things. Google Maps' Satellite View can be very useful for finding parking spots as you can normally see cars parked there in the image. I'll give myself a bit of extra time to get there just in case. I'll use a digital Ordnance Survey map to see what my walking route will be, how long it is and what terrain I'll be crossing.

Weekend Trips

My weekend trips are usually spent with the family. Sometimes we go because I want to visit somewhere to make photographs, often we're just going somewhere and of course I'm going to make photographs. If it's the first, then I may get 2 or 3 sessions out with the camera. If it's the latter maybe 1 or 2.

If it's a weekend trip that I've planned, then the location will be on my "must visit list" so I'll use that and the same approach for scouting trips to prepare for those mornings. If not I will be doing a lot of research for potential in the area - studying maps, tides, images on Flickr, asking people on Twitter, etc.

If it's a coastal location, I'll often check the tides to find a date with favourable tides. "Favourable" will depend on a particular location, so looking at images on Flickr or asking people can help.

If in doubt I tend to favour a higher tide rather than a low tide. At at a lot of places you can get dark seaweed covered rocks poking out of the water which I don't find particularly appealing and images can look pretty messy. I find a high tide lends itself more readily to cleaner images.

Week Away

If I'm away for a week my preparation is the same as for a weekend trip just on a bigger scale - more days out, more locations, more preparation, more learning.

A longer period away in one place probably gives you the opportunity for repeat visits to locations which you may not find with weekends where you're still exploring. This helps get past the more obvious images to take a more creative approach.

Trip of a Lifetime

This could take a whole blog post!

Suffice to say I'd take all of the tools and use them as much as I could to really understand what I'm going to be faced with. If it truly is a "Trip of a Lifetime" then I don't want to come home feeling I didn't make the most of it through lack of preparation. Again, it's important to be wary of overplanning to the point that you don't react positively to what you do find (which will - no matter what - be different in some or all ways to what your preparation suggests).

One interesting suggestion I've heard is that reading books about a place rather than looking at images opens the mind more and gives you more inspiration without having particular images fixed in your mind. I can understand why this would be true, but I haven't tried it myself yet.

Serendipity

Let me conclude this planning post by talking about the opposite of planning - serendipity. Taking your chance, what will come to pass will come to pass and hoping for those unexpected "happy accidents". I love serendipity.

Many of my favourite images have come about through happy accident. The light catching trees on a drive home from a fruitless morning out. The tide, sun and weather coming together magically in front of me. Finding beautiful waterfalls not marked on maps. Trying something different with no expectations. An unexpected bank of fog shrouding the whole valley below.

Some of these things you can, I guess, plan for but not with much certainty. The more uncertain something is the more time it proportionately takes to plan for. Pretty soon the law of diminishing returns kick in.

Perhaps all that energy would be better spent in the landscape enjoying it first hand in the hope that something does happen. In fact is that not a large part of why we do this thing - to be out enjoying the landscape and sharing the wonder we find?

Ultimately my point in these posts is that some preparation helps to beat the odds a little. But it's the unexpected and the magical that puts a huge grin on my face and makes my most memorable images. I think the best bit about preparation is that it helps gets us out somewhere promising and then we can let nature and creativity take its course.

Summary

Hopefully that gives you some things to think about. There's a lot included here, and yet at the same time I feel I haven't done it justice. Perhaps in some ways shoot preparation is creativity itself, putting together a puzzle in your head. Every situation and location is different and so it's just not possible to be prescriptive about it.

I guess if there was one specific takeaway from this post, I think it would be about developing a mental list and appreciation of local places. Depending on where you live, "local" might mean something different to you than it does to me, but I mean somewhere not too far away that you can visit regularly.

Visiting this place  and understanding its potential in different conditions is a good way to ease the pressure of "planning". I think the more we try and find new locations and expect to maximise their potential - which preparation can help with, but can't guarantee - then I think the more likely we are to be frustrated and disappointed.

Certainly since I've started exploring my local valley I've felt a lot more relaxed about my image making - in some ways it just kind of happens now. Previously I was trying to work out which corner of the Peak District I was going to go to and lacked familiarity. I'd be second guessing myself constantly no matter where I ended up.

So I think having an area that I visit regularly allows me to just get stuck into my photography without lots of planning and hopefully allows me to find things others don't and make images that look more like my images and less like someone else's. I still go further afield, but with lower expectations and more as a treat to myself rather than every week.

As some commented following my first post it can be better to let go of planning - just go, see what you find and let your creativity lead you by the hand.

In the 3rd part of this series I'll be fielding a number of reader-submitted questions as well as a few specific thoughts and pointers. If there's anything you'd like to ask just leave a comment below or drop me a mail and I'll try to include it.

Want to Learn More?

I'm currently planning - sorry, preparing! - a workshop schedule where I will pass on my experience of this and other topics. If you'd like to be among the first to hear when I release these workshop dates and special offers then please join my mailing list.

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Reflections on Disappointment

My last post shared the  disappointment I felt following my weekend in Northumberland.

On second (third, fourth,...) study the images aren’t that bad. I was hoping for something more – more...different – but there are at least a couple of images there that I’m quite happy with. 2 images in a weekend’s not a bad hit rate to be honest.

Although not quite what I was after they’ve definitely grown on me – and I didn’t dislike them in the first place. An interesting thing for me to ponder further is if I didn't like them at first, but I like them now, how then can they be a realisation of my original vision? Some thoughts on that and quite what this "Vision" thing is in a future post I think.

Anyway after some reflection, one or two chats, and looking at the images again, I think I’ve learned a few lessons (and relearned a couple) that I thought were worth sharing. Most of them are about our own expectations.

1. Approach Trumps Location

I had hoped that a different location would get the creative juices flowing. However approaching that location in the same way with the same mindset won't lead to original images, just similar images of a different place.

At the end of the day I was still planning on shooting rocks, with some long exposure sky and sea. They might be different rocks and even geologically interesting rocks, but they were still going to be rocks in a "milky" sea. The location was irrelevant really.

Approach appears to be the biggest factor in making original images. After all original images can still be made in well known locations.

2. Clear Your Mind of Expectation

I didn't really find the "geologically interesting rocks in the surf" combination that I was looking for and was quite disappointed. Aside from that I had headlands and other rock stratas invading my frame where I wanted a clear, minimalist sea.

I had built an expectation that was quite different to the reality I found on location. This expectation can be a real creativity killer.

Sometimes you can spend all of your time looking for and trying to make as certain shot, yet you miss other likely better opportunities. Who knows, perhaps those headlands and rock stratas I was so busy trying to get out of frame were the image.

An expectant mind isn't an open mind. We put pressure on ourselves to make  images, perhaps even images that aren't even there, rather than just going with the flow.

3. Stop Trying So Hard

If I’m struggling to make sense of things or things aren’t going the way I expect, I find myself trying harder to make them work, and often working too fast and loose in my eagerness to get something. The result is often something forced and visually jarring. The struggle to make the image is transmitted by the image itself.

I find I need to work more intuitively and if things aren’t coming easily then it’s normally a sign to move on, and perhaps to try something different. I don’t mean easy in the sense that actually making an image is or should be easy. Rather that for me the process of image making needs to be a subconscious free flowing one, feeling my way to the image rather than wrestling with what’s in front of me.

4. Learn to Spot and Deal with Frustration

My usual reaction after some disappointing results is to go out and take more pictures. If I'm not able to I get can really frustrated! “You’re only as good as your last shot” and I want to go out and prove myself all over again.

But in that state of mind I’ll be forcing things, willing things to fall into place and setting myself the expectation that I’ll get something I’m happy with. Not good.

I think I’m better giving it a little time, going out as the opportunity arises. Perhaps more importantly I need to stop worrying about it. That feeling of being on a bad run hurts but a clear head and an open mind are required to make better images. They will come if I don’t panic and trust myself. Maybe even take a wee break doing something else to forget all about it.

5. Don't Worry About What Other People Think

Whilst constructive feedback and even praise from others is welcome, this shouldn't be the intention of image making. I think it stifles us and leads to unoriginal and shallow images.

In the field it's better to clear my head, block out others' voices and follow my instinct. There’s a time to worry about what others think and that’s definitely not at the point of image making.

6. Don’t Worry About the Results

Whilst in the field I can spend a lot of time looking at the image review on the LCD. Normally I'm checking for good things - histogram, compositional refinements - but I'm also looking for that 'wow' moment where I got the shot.

It has to be said the LCD can be very flattering to our images! Often I see what I think are amazing shots but I take them home and just go "huh?!".

To me checking and worrying about those results, looking for reassurance on the back of the camera is a bad habit. If I think the results are looking good I may be inclined to think that I've got "what I came for" and pack up prematurely.

Conversely if things aren't looking so good I can feel the pressure mounting, the need to get "something, anything!". Either reaction to this constant progress reviewing is damaging I think.

The problem isn't checking the LCD, and yes I should check it from time to time and use the feedback constructively. Rather it's a reliance on the LCD as the barometer of success and feeling anxious until an image leaps off the screen. I think it's better to not worry, stay in the moment and keep working intuitively.

7. Familiarity Helps

As I said above going to a different location is no guarantee of getting something good or different. It’s still possible to shoot clichés in a new location. Instead I think familiarity helps in a lot of ways.

For one, regular visits can mean that I work the “more obvious” shots out of my system. This frees my mind to explore somewhere more creatively. I know certain places where I can say to myself “I have that shot, now what else can I find”.

I think many of us are looking for some form of familiarity, looking for reassurance that there's potential and that we're not wasting our time. I think this is why honey-pot locations exist - people are familiar with other images and the potential to make their own (or mimic).

Even for a fresh location repeated visits let us get under the skin of a place - see it in different light, weather and seasons, and perhaps appreciate it completely differently. Without at least some familiarity we’re trusting to luck that the landscape will bear its riches to us immediately (which some places do more readily than others).

Of all the lessons this is the one that I feel strongest about. I want to feel like an explorer, but I also want to feel like the land is an old friend. So I'm going to find and keep returning to those locations I can call my own and spend time understanding them better.

8. Let Your Images Breathe

I always feel the urge to race home, check my images and share them with the world. Again I think this is me looking for reassurance, external validation, that my endeavours were not in vain and that I've still “got it”. It goes back to worrying about results.

I think that I review images much too soon after shooting. On occasions where I give them time I appreciate them a lot more. Of course it's not the images I'm giving time, it's me! Time to forget - about the expectations, the emotions, the excitement - so that I can see  the images for what they are.

I’m going to make a conscious effort to delay and then slow my image reviews down.

9. Actually “Look” at the Images

My image review process goes a lot like this "junk - junk - junk - maybe…no - junk - junk - ooh, I like!", quickly racing through the images looking for the ones that stand out. Indeed I'll normally remember those images I have hopes for when I shot them and  jump to those quickly, perhaps not even looking at most of the others.

But each of those hundreds and thousands of images has its own story to tell and its own lesson for us. “I shot too many”, “I was trusting to luck”, “bad light”, “focus was off”, “composition is unbalanced”, “my exposures we’re all over the place”, “I've got a bunch of the inside of my bag because I didn't switch the camera off”, etc, etc.

I think really looking at these failed images and consciously noting why things didn't work will help me to make stronger images in the future. “Learn from your mistakes” as they say. This can be very difficult to do objectively and again highlights the importance of letting time pass to let go of the associated emotions.

I've decided that when I review I'm going to note 2 or 3 things that I think  I need to work on on an index card. I can then glance at that as a conscious reminder before stepping out for my next shoot.

Conclusions

There you go, 9 lessons from my recent experience of disappointment. Some of these things I already knew, but I've taken some time to consciously think about them. In the past I would probably have just got back on the bike and started shooting until something clicked.

But I've found it very interesting and helpful to sit down and reflect on the above points to actually learn some lessons that will hopefully make my photography stronger in the future.

It may read as though I'm beating myself up - and to be honest I've made some points more strongly to get them across - but I genuinely think this a good, positive experience.

One of the things I love about photography is that it presents the ultimate puzzle - how to turn this big complicated world into a meaningful and emotive photograph.

But more so I think the puzzle and challenge is with understanding ourselves. I really enjoy the questioning of myself that photography brings out and the better understanding that follows.

Lee Universal Hood: First Impressions

This Christmas Santa was kind enough to leave me a Lee Universal Hood and a Heliopan 105mm polariser (must've been a good boy!). I know a few people have asked questions about the hood so I thought I'd share my initial experience with it as well as the polariser.

Prior to buying this combination I had a 77mm polariser which fits the filter thread of my Canon 24-105mm lens. As I've said before I'm increasingly using prime lenses and - surprise, surprise! - they have different filter threads - 67mm, 72mm, 82mm, everything but 77mm! This basically mean that when I wanted to use a polariser I had to use my 24-105mm. Indeed the polariser became pretty much permanently attached to that lens which in effect made it a very expensive polariser!

When using a polariser it's very difficult, in some cases impossible, to use it with a lens hood. Often the lens hood is so narrow and deep that you can't get your hand in to turn the polariser.

Even without a polariser, I use filters most of the time when I'm in the field and these absolutely rule out the use of the standard lens hood. If you don't know, with the Lee filter system you basically attach a big filter holder to the front of the lens which means there's no way to mount the lens hood on the bayonets.

I get by without using a lens hood but there have been more than a few occasions where I've had sun flare causing me problems. I could try to hold my hand in position just out of frame to block it but more often than not I'd wobble (especially with a long exposure) and my hand would come into frame. Not quite what I'm looking for!

So I went for this combo so that I could use a polariser on any lens, and I could shade my lens whilst using my filters. Winner!

What's In the Box

Ok, more like what did I get:

• Lee Universal Lens Hood (e.g. here)
• Heliopan 105mm Circular Polariser (e.g. here). Note: "SLIM" fit.
• Lee 105mm Front Ring (e.g. here)

The hood itself looks like a regular Lee Foundation Kit (the normal holder) with 2 slots behind the hood which work as you'd expect. It clips onto the adapter ring on the lens in exactly the same way. Indeed, it's pretty much a Foundation Kit with a bellows hood attached to the front. It comes with a case which is pretty handy as normally my foundation kit just rattles around my bag.

The front ring goes inside the hood. You have to unscrew the 4 screws holding the filter holder together, put the ring in place and then screw it back together. The ring comes with a little screwdriver to let you do this. It's a good idea to note what bits go where before unscrewing so you know how to put it back together again!

Although I also got longer screws the ones that come with the hood were long enough. If you wanted to add another filter slot, you would follow the same procedure as here or for the Foundation Kit: unscrew, put extra holder retainers in, and screw it back together. The kit doesn't come with extra filter retainers and you'd need the longer screws (5/8" ones for 2 slots + ring, so it would be the 3/4" ones you need for 3 slots + ring).

The ring itself is nothing more than a metal 105mm filter thread and the circular polariser is no more than a regular screw-in 105mm filter. There's nothing special about the Lee one or the Lee system here, it's just giving you a filter thread in front of the Lee filter slots to screw another (in this case non-Lee) filter into.

That's all you need. Pretty straightforward.

First Impressions

I love how the hood looks (note: looks!). Really love how it looks. With its bellows arrangement it looks like something you'd use on a "proper" camera. My wife even said "did you get that to make your camera look older?". It's a cool looking bit of kit.

Simple things perhaps but I have a love of things that look and feel "proper". Well engineered and crafted. I'm not saying that the Lee one neccesarily is (time will be the test there) but its got that feel to it if you get what I mean.

One of the main draws to me trying film is enjoying the engineering quality and aesthetic of the equipment. I remember Bruce Percy letting me have a go of his Hasselblad on his workshop. Aside from the fact that the viewfinder was enormous, the whole thing just struck me as a beautiful instrument. Controls were crisp but fluid, it was cold to the touch, it felt well engineered. And the noise of the shutter? *swoon*.

Anyway I digress. The bellows hood makes me feel a little more part of that world without all of the faff of having to develop film and what-not! :)

Positioning

The point of the bellows is that you can extend or retract the hood to suit the lens you're using - hence why it's called the "Lee Universal Hood". With a wide lens you have to retract it most of the way. With a longer lens you pull it all of the way out.

This presents the first problem for me. With a regular lens hood, it's designed to be be just out of frame when fitted. You don't have to check that it  actually is out of frame, it's designed to be.

Not so here. With the Universal Hood you decide the position of the hood and so you need to check that the hood is in the right position.

Of course the right position isn't just "out of frame", it's actually "out of frame, but right on the edge of out of frame to block the light". So there's some guesswork and jiggery pockery required to get it just right.

On several occasions I've thought it was positioned correctly only to then find that it had crept into the side of the frame. I hadn't noticed because the hood is black and the camera is black and so the hood coming in just looked like the frame edge. Of course that is very much user error but it's another "faff" to think about and pay attention to.

Fully extended the bellows is about 10cm long. My 24-105mm is about 10cm long, my primes are shorter, and so it's kinda big! And this probably points to another, at least potential, problem - wind.

It's big, it almost doubles the size of the camera and lens and being cube shaped, it's not what you would call aerodynamic. Also being mounted on the end of the lens it's at the furthest point from the ballhead to offer resistance against anything pushing on it (i.e. wind). Think of a door. It's easiest to push the door furthest from the hinge, and so the wind blowing the (lightweight) hood will have more of an effect than if it was blowing something directly on top of the tripod.

I haven't used it enough in breezy conditions to draw a definitive conclusion as to the extent of the effect in practice, though I did shoot a couple of 1 minute long shots with a stiff side wind that showed noticeable shake that I would attribute to the hood.

Polariser Access

It's easy enough rotating the polariser by putting your hand in the front of the hood. A bit of a bonus with the Lee system is that - if you're not using grad filters - you can rotate the holder itself rather than the polariser which is much easier.

I have had the polariser get stuck on the thread a couple of times. I think because of the hood coming up from the sides, it's difficult to get my sausage fingers in and screw the filter with it perfectly flat. I think I'm applying some vertical pressure onto the filter threads which make it stick that little bit more. It's sortable by using a rubber band, but I wouldn't screw it on too tightly!

Water Drop Protection

One of the things I wanted a hood for is to keep stuff off the front of my lens. I seem to spend my entire life wiping water off of my lens and filters. The hood does help here, particularly with snow and rain which is more or less vertical.

In the case of (the more usual?) horizontal rain when you're shooting into the wind then obviously it doesn't help. I've had very mixed results with keeping splashes from waterfalls off. Given the trajectory of these splashes they tend to arc horizontally, and so the hood tends to offer little protection if shooting in the direction of the fall. Bit disappointed with that, but predictable I suppose.

If you are using it to keep rain off then note that the regular filter slots aren't covered by the hood. This means rain can fall between the slots onto the filters without you realising. Also if the holder gets wet then you tend to get water smears on the filters as you put them in or out.

This is true of the Foundation Kit too, but the hood doesn't completely save you in these circumstances as you might otherwise hope. Doug Chinnery (@dougchinnery) put me onto these chamois from Skyeskyns. They provide similar protection to rain covers but are a lot more versatile and a lot less faff. In problem rain I'll drape the chamois over the camera including the filter slots to stop water getting down there. Oh and offcuts are awesome for absorbing water on the lens! :)

Vignetting

I've talked about the need to get the hood in the right position so it doesn't encroach on the frame.

As you might expect at 21mm you can see that fully extended the hood comes all the way into frame. Retracting it to about halfway takes it out of frame.

This is true at 24mm as well - in fact, it encroaches more. How can that be you may ask (I did)? I believe it's because my Zeiss 21mm holds the filter holder tighter to the lens than the 24-105mm does. You can see this when I mount the polariser as well. At 24mm the polariser encroaches into the corners (note not evenly which I found odd, not perfectly seated?). At 21mm it's out of frame.

For a little additional info, I have a Foundation Kit with 3 slots and another front ring - with the polariser at 24mm it was very noticeable in the corners. By removing one slot from the holder the polariser was not longer visible. I presume the extra layer of metal that forms the back of the bellows sandwiched between the ring and the filter slots moves the polariser out that little bit more causing the polariser to encroach. 

Oh one other thing related to the metal plate at the back of the bellows. If you have a 100x100 filter such as a full ND, it's better to put this in the slot closest to the lens. Otherwise this metal plate makes it difficult to get the filter out whilst mounted on the lens. This is good practice anyway to minimise light getting in behind the ND filter.

Fully extended at 35mm there is slight encroaching of the hood when fully extended. At longer lengths it can't be seen.

With respect to vignetting (rather than "encroachment") I tried shooting at different positions with different focal lengths and didn't see the more common "shadowing" in the corners. Thinking about it, I'm not sure if this is normally a problem with lens hoods rather than with the lens itself. It certainly seems that either the lens hood is actually visibly in frame or you don't know it's in use, I haven't noticed any other effects in between the two.

Flare Protection

One of the main reasons to use a lens hood is to reduce flare. Does it work? I wouldn't know as I haven't seen the sun for about 5 weeks!

In seriousness I've not had many situations so far where I think it would add much benefit so I'm not in a position to say at this point. I certainly expect that it would given that you can adjust it to literally the edge of the frame. It should work fine. The only potential concern would be with the shape. The lens hood is square and the lens is round. I don't know if the corners of the square would let in light that a regular lens hood would otherwise block, or if that would be a problem. I'll find out in time.

One source of "flare" that I find annoying is where you have a bright object just out of frame. It can have a "bleaching" effect on the frame edge. For example if you want to exclude the sky and crop it just out of frame, the glare from the sky still has an effect on whatever is below. I didn't expect - but hoped - that the hood would help too much with that. And it doesn't. Oh well.

Final Thoughts

Firstly I'm glad to have the polariser. I haven't had too much opportunity to use it so far but glad to have a more flexible option than my 77mm in my armoury.

The Universal Hood I'm a bit more ambivalent about. It's got its good points. I'm sure it will do what I need in terms of preventing flare and it keeps stuff off the front of the filter in vertical rain. But in a wind it's going to cause problems, and doesn't do a great job of keeping water splashes off. It's something of a faff to use and I dislike having to faff.

At the end of the day it's good to have in the bag. I'm not sure in general usage it will offer me better results than the regular, straightforward Foundation Kit. It will certainly be situationally useful but, on balance, considering the money, I'm not sure it's that great.

I'll see if my thinking changes with more experience.

Have you had similar experiences? Or do you have any questions about the hood (or even the Lee system) that I haven't covered?

 

Given I had the images, for a laugh I put together a short stop-gap video showing the "extending nature" of the hood. The captions seem to have gone a bit screwy on upload but hopefully the video gives an impression of how the camera "grows" using the hood.

[vimeo https://vimeo.com/58658481]

Peaks and Troughs

As we approach the end of 2012 I've started to reflect on my year's photographic journey . Though I've owned a DSLR since 2007, it's only this year that I feel that I've made real progress as an artist. I thought it might be useful to share some thoughts on the nature of my journey.

It's a Winding Road

The most obvious thing to me is that improvement isn't a straight line. I guess if it were we'd be able to plot a start point, an end point and do what it takes to keep us on a constant trajectory until we reach our destination. And we all know it's about the journey and not the destination. Indeed there is no real destination.

That's the first thing to consider. Unless you have some very specific goal in mind, you're not getting better to achieve something in particular. Rather you're always "just getting better". That might mean any number of things, maybe getting better at realising your own vision and being more honest with yourself rather than generating "better looking pictures". And if we're not really trying to get anywhere then why hurry in getting there? That doesn't mean slack off and stop doing the work, but it means there's a need to slow down, enjoy the journey and take time to reflect as it's often during the quiet times that things fall into place.

Of course it doesn't always feel like we're getting better. Sometimes quite the opposite. Have you ever felt that all of a sudden your images suck? I do. A lot! Sometimes I look back at my images earlier in the year or even in previous years and feel they are much better than what I'm doing at the moment. I feel I'm falling short and my work is getting worse. So I start trying harder, maybe too hard. My images become formulaic and forced, rather than natural and instinctual.

Consistency

In reality our images, in general, aren't getting worse. Looking back I actually find that those older gems were stand-outs from relatively poorer images made around the same time. A few flukes that rise above. By contrast, sometimes individual images I make now may not stand out in the same way but they're supported by a consistently higher foundation of work. They're less reliant on luck and more reliant on my skills and vision.

So it's probably best not to measure progress in terms of individual images. In the same way competitions don't necessarily uncover the best photographer, I think we should be looking at our images as a wider body of work, and looking for a higher level of consistency. When I do this, I can certainly see that my image making is much improved even if my absolute favourite shots may be older images. I can look forward, knowing that my favourite image could just be around the corner, waiting to spring from this fertile ground that I've nurtured.

Eureka!

It feels to me that we have certain times when we're out shooting and everything comes together - technique, conditions, frame of mind - and we produce something we feel is markedly better than what came before it (and perhaps after it). These moments seem like eureka moments! It feels like we've cracked it, we're the best photographer in the world and a slew of great work and admiration awaits us! I often do this, until I get home and see them on my computer at least. (interesting thing to watch for: if you've been out in the field, think you've struck gold and then feel a wave of disappointment as you see the results on the computer - walk away. You're still emotionally attached to that moment  of victory so it's very unlikely the reality will match your feelings. Come back in a few days or weeks and I can almost guarantee you'll feel more satisfied with the results.)

It may be that we've cracked it - though maybe we can't quite work out what "it" actually is. I feel like those images are the result of the days, weeks, maybe months where I'm still going out, still working and practising  producing work I'm not entirely happy with the results of.

I firmly believe that the work that went before was a necessary process to reach that point of satisfaction. Without the previous, our technique wouldn't be honed, our vision would be immature and we may not even be out in the wonderful light as we're lying in bed having taken prior disappointment to heart rather than a natural, necessary part of the journey. In some ways you could think that our successful images are the sum of our disappointments, and that each disappointment is a step closer to something wonderful!

False Summits

When we have these eureka moments, our expectations change. "I'm better now. This will be the new level of all my work." And perhaps for a period it leads to some sustained work that we're happy with. But it will drop off - in our heads at least.

Have you ever climbed a hill where you say to yourself, "the summit's just at the top of this rise" and then you get there and realise it's actually not. "Ok, the top of the next rise". The peak with endless summits, with boggy energy sapping ground in between. Much like the Peak District in fact!

And so this is what it feels like, our moment of photographic glory fades, replaced by the all-too-soon realisation that there is ever more progress to be made. As I said at the top, that is the destination. An ongoing life's journey up the false summit, over the boggy plateau and up the next one!

There's something here about the need or at least the feeling of "getting worse before you get better". You get good at something, and in pushing to get better your results get worse for a period. That boggy ground may be where we're experimenting, trying a new technique that will help us climb that next rise or perhaps scale that cliff.

At first some of these hills may seem steeper, and the plateaus longer and boggier. But as our work approaches a consistently high standard that we're happier with, then maybe that boggy ground seems a little firmer and those hills a little lower.

As they say in the cycling world, "it never gets easier, you just get faster"!

A Life of Continual Progress

"Remember - you're as good as your last picture. One day you're [a] hero, the next day you're a bum..." ~ Weegee

Self doubt and concern that our best work is behind us is something I think we all face, no matter how good our images objectively are - not that we can be objective anyway! You're not alone. There will be artists that you admire and think have "made it" who are themselves unsatisfied with their images, looking at other artists enviously.

So perhaps it's time to settle in for a life of continual and sometimes slow progress. Maybe by settling in we become that little less hurried, a little less despondent with the natural lows, a little more balanced when we reach those natural highs. And perhaps we'll savour the journey with its little victories and false summits all the more.

I don't have the answers and perhaps this post throws up more questions than answers, but a more philosophical "it will pass" approach helps me. I can be a harsh self critic and always striving to get better, something of a perfectionist at heart. I can beat myself up when I'm taking that one step back just so that I can take the next two forward. Remembering that it's part of the process and knowing that the two steps will come I find brings me calm when it would be so easy to be down.

Let me leave you with this video with words by Ira Glass that I came across last year. I find it really encouraging. It makes the point that disappointment is natural and is even a positive indicator. The key is to not let it get you down, just keep working, keep climbing the hills and trudging the bogs:

http://vimeo.com/24715531

 Last week I was very privileged to feature in On Landscape magazine, an online magazine for - you guessed it! - landscape photographers. If you'd like to read more about my journey, you can read the interview here. Aside from my surprise inclusion, I highly recommend On Landscape. It has a wealth of really thought provoking articles that provide a lot more depth than similar magazines you come across.

Make Your Own Luck

The following question was posed on a forum I read recently, "What makes a great photograph?". A rather glib, predictable and perhaps tongue-in-cheek reply followed, "Luck!". It made me smile. Perhaps even I once thought photography was about luck. But as the saying goes, you make your own luck.

I think boiling success down to luck is some form of defense mechanism to deflect attention from one's own failing contribution to the result. If things don't work out, you can put it down to bad luck and move on hoping for your lottery numbers to come up instead.

I think this is similar to the endless gear debates on the Internet - it's easier to talk about gear and which camera or lens is the best, even when the differences are completely imperceptible to the viewer. It's easy to blame your gear or bad luck or your circumstances or your lack of creativity or anything else. It's much harder to accept that if you're not making images you're happy with then it's down to you.

"I'm a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more luck I have." ~ Thomas Jefferson

Great results require hard work and dedication, often to the point where it seems pointless to go on. Discounting that and claiming "great" is the result of some fluke alignment in the cosmos is incredibly disingenuous to the artist. It undermines and disregards all the hard work they've put in.

For a whole variety of reasons it's impossible to predict exactly what conditions we'll find when we go out. Life is really just one giant equation with about a bazillion variables. Some may call it "luck" when those variables equate to "awesome". We could rely on luck for the occasional good image. But for consistent success I think we need to look at a combination of "anticipation" and "putting yourself out there".

Anticipation

We can't guarantee what we'll see or what we find precisely, but we can anticipate them. As an obvious example we can use our knowledge and experiences of sunrise and sunset to anticipate good light at those times (ignoring the howls of "oh no, not another sunset photo" for a moment!).

We can use our knowledge and experience of a place to know the lay of the land, perhaps identify useful compositions in advance. We can use weather forecasts and our own weather observations to anticipate clear skies or storm clouds.

And we can go on into ever more subtle, perhaps even subconscious observations and experiences from everything from recent rainfall, to seasonal changes, to the smallest details akin to what an animal tracker might use. In a way we're tracking and hunting a "great photo". Using all of these inputs from the big, smack-you-in-the-face research and planning to the almost imperceptible details that you'd struggle to list because they are deep in your subconscious.

This is something I'm still very much learning. It's probably something you never stop learning (and most likely local to your location). Whilst I appreciate some of the nuances in the landscape, I feel very much at the start of my journey. I guess I am still relying on a degree of luck. I'm not that expert tracker, but I'm working my way there knowing it will open the door to better images.

Dedication

The other side of the coin is getting out there. As well as we can hone our sense of anticipation, we can never perfectly predict what we'll find all of the time. We have to play the numbers game and work the odds. That means spending as much time out in the field as we can. Put simply it increases our chances of finding favourable conditions. Just by being out there more we are guaranteed to find more to get excited about.

By contrast, staying in and making infrequent trips out with the camera means we are relying on the luck of the draw. The odds are stacked against us.

Great photographers are going out regularly, often when the rest of us don't expect worthwhile images. They have a strong sense of what they're looking for. They're sticking it out and are ready, when the rest of us have long given up and gone home or to the pub. And by being out there, observing and experiencing, that sense of anticipation develops, increasing the likelihood of future success.

Summary: Being Professional

We need to adopt that 'professional' approach. Make the effort. Get out, stay out. Watch and listen. Experience. Think. Put up with inconvenience and discomfort.

I don't write this to pontificate about what I do. These are the questions I am asking myself. Am I working and trying hard enough? Am I thinking and learning enough? Am I pushing? I am all too often disappointed by my answers but I know what I need to do and have a path forward.

Simply being there through anticipation and dedication isn't enough, we need to build vision and technique and then employ them mindfully. But we shouldn't discount others' successes as 'luck' when they are putting in the hard yards, and we should acknowledge the importance of doing that ourselves.

Finally, if nothing else playing the numbers game means that we'll have more good outings, though with proportionately more bad. When we return with nothing we can console ourselves with the fact that tomorrow is another day with a fresh set of opportunities. Every bad day is another day closer to a good day, and the shorter the gaps between them then the faster we arrive at the good. I always try to remind myself that a disappointing trip is not a waste of time, but another - perhaps smaller than I would like but nonetheless necessary - step of progress.

I wish I had the time, energy and circumstance to go out constantly making great pictures. But rather than bemoaning my luck at being unable to do so I need to channel that into trying and working harder, and improving my anticipation.

Here's to getting "luckier"! :)

Here Be Dragons!

As an adjunct to the above, here's some further less well formed but more personal, angst ridden and perhaps angry thoughts on the subject (and maybe an echo of my Frustrations post). As I say, Here be Dragons, so tread with care!

I've just finished watching a wildlife/nature documentary - Nordic Wild if you're interested - which I thoroughly enjoyed but it gave me that frustrated, "why can't I", "wish I had the luck to do that" feeling.  It would be awesome to be paid to go out and shoot in Greenland, Iceland, Norway, et al, the Aurora, snow, glaciers, icebergs, wildlife, the lot. How freakin awesome? Compared to a desk?

And then, talking of icebergs, you realise all that you see is the tip. The "luck" of getting that great shot or that great job, or doing anything that amounts to very much - running a marathon, inventing something, curing cancer, writing a book, playing an instrument, parenting, literally anything to be proud of - is absolutely, totally, 100% a realisation of hard work and dedication. The result is merely the visible tip, everything else is unseen or not understood.

There's the classic 10,000 hour theory and I'm not going to dwell on that, just the fact that for all of the results you see there is so much that has to go in to deliver that. Anticipation as I reference above is a part of that, but perhaps not the right word. Sure, you could spend 10,000 hours on something, but it's the "anticipation" that decides what the right things to spend those hours on are. Spend the time, and spend the time wisely, because my goodness time is short.

Everything we do of value is supported by a giant mass like that of an iceberg below the surface. Most people don't see a fraction of that and don't understand the value of the results. "A pack of paper is like 10 quid, and you get about 50 prints out of an ink set, so that print should be about like max £1.50 ye?". God, we're so materialistic and lacking in understanding of the hard work and dedication (must look up some synonyms!) we have to put in to deliver.

What about the hours stood in the pouring rain while the world is sleeping? What about the time studying books and images? What about all of those - shit load - bad pictures for that one good one? The inconvenience, the angst? What about all of those times that you beat yourself up that you're no good and can't do this, just for that one moment of jubilance? Monetise that.

None of this is about material cost, or luck, or anything else. It's about putting yourself out there and experiencing stuff, finding something, pursuing an idea, a love, a need. That's where the value is and that's what defines "great". Not luck or money. "Great" is an accumulation of everything that we are and is completely subjective, and perhaps completely unseen ("an artist is worth more dead than alive").

On a slight tangent and so one for another day, if we don't go through the "bad times" then how can we expect to be a unique person or have a unique voice? We are the accumulation of all of our experiences, good and bad. Wanting to cherry-pick the good from the bad is like some form of corruption of ourselves.

If we want to achieve anything, literally anything of real value in this life we have to work our asses off to do it. Anything less is a superficial version of what could have been. And so when I look at my images, and watch documentaries and feel the desire - burning need - to do better, be better, do more and live a truer more congruent life I know I can't look to luck. I know I need to work hard. I need to chase the rainbow.

May you work hard for your dreams and may they come true.