The Online Photographer

Competing in the Sony slalom at the Olympics....

(Hope you can see this where you are. UPDATE: It's on YouTube, several readers have mentioned.)

Mike
(Thanks to Jay Townshend)

ADDENDUM: Jay adds, "The camera and lens survived. Minor damage to the LCD screen on the back of the camera body and the lens hood was toast, but apparently it was back in service the next day. Sony repair staff on site at the Olympics revealed to a reporter that the camera was a Sony Alpha 1 and a 24–70mm GM lens, if you’re a gear head. I’ve had a few cameras tumble in my time."

Book o' the Week:

Ernst Haas: New York in Color 1952–1962. "When Haas moved from Vienna to New York City in 1951, he left behind a war-torn continent and a career producing black-and-white images. For Haas, the new medium of color photography was the only way to capture a city pulsing with energy and humanity. These images demonstrate Haas's tremendous virtuosity and confidence with Kodachrome film and the technical challenges of color printing."

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Today at B&H Photo

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

V.I. Voltz: "Wouldn’t it be cool if it was recording video when it was dropped!? I’m getting giddy just thinking about watching that!"

Mike replies: When I was young, my father briefly got into Super-8 movies. On a ski vacation one winter he decided to make a film while skiing downhill. He practiced by making dry runs with his hands held to his face as if he were thumbing his nose with both hands, which of course looked absolutely ridiculous, and was embarrassing to my then-12-year-old (or whatever it was) self. When he made the film, of course he fell, and the resulting movie was absolutely great—it showed him first zooming down the mountain—then the camera nosedives to the snow and there's a crazy chaotic jumble of blurry, jarring snow and sky and skier for a number of seconds, and finally the camera comes to rest with a serene view of snow, sky and clouds at a sharp angle. Of course he didn't like the "fall" part and the peaceful aftermath, but to me it made the clip. I didn't think he could have done better if he had scripted it that way.

Today, it would get views and likes on YouTube, no doubt.

Mani Sitaraman: "The video clip of the Sony camera tumbling down the snowy slope is on YouTube, too."

Harry B Houchins: "Never did that! I kept close watch on all my gear. Honestly! Seriously! Never, really never. Well, nobody saw me...."

Håkan Andersson: "Apropos the camera filming while it took a tumble. I had a skydiving team mate who lost his video helmet on climb-out from the plane at 13,000 feet. It did record all the way down. We managed to pry the DV tape (yes, this was a few years back) out of the totally demolished camera and play it back. Showed it to some friends without telling them that there was no skydiver attached to the helmet/camera as that sequence was shot. Dark sense of humor, I know.  :-)  "

Patrick D Perez (partial comment): "This past Saturday, I had an opportunity to make an 'extreme' video w/ my phone. My wife's car suffered a blowout on the Narrows Bridge on her way to work, so I rescued her, and we swapped cars. I waited for the tow truck and, due to COVID, I was not allowed in the cab of the truck, but I could ride in her car, strapped onto the flatbed. So I made a few videos of me seemingly driving COVERING MY EYES! with no explanation. I got some great reactions."

[Comments have been added.]

There's a giant snowstorm threatening the East Coast of the US, and several readers have contacted me with good wishes. I appreciate the concern, but I'm a long way from the coast—it's about 270 miles from here to New York City. For our friends in the United Kingdom, that's approximately the drive from Plymouth, in Devon, to Canterbury in Kent via the A303. For Australians, picture the distance from Sydney to Coffs Harbour by air. We might catch the fringe of this storm, but events on the coast are distant.

I do want to offer my own thoughts and concern for readers up and down the Atlantic seaboard. Take it easy with the shovel and we hope you don't lose power. And we don't want to hear reports of you being found frozen solid far from home with a camera in your hand, either. As one governor put it, this is a "Netflix and chill" event. I guess the chill part is mandatory!

While you're socked in, two things you could do—one, think about submitting to the "Objects" Baker's Dozen. The deadline is a week from tomorrow. I've gotten some wonderful pictures so far. (Also a number that I wouldn't really consider pictures of objects, but I've still enjoyed seeing those.) And if you can, and if you would, you could kindly help spread the word to other sites, forums, and friends about our upcoming Infrared Picture Print Sale (previous post). There are a lot of infrared fans out there, but they're scattered far and wide.

Right now it's very pleasant at TOP Rural World HQ in the hamlet of Penn Yan. Clear, brilliantly sunny, just a slight breeze, and a very pleasant 10°F (–12°C)*.

Mike

*Another of my unpedigreed theories: That the reason people don't like cold is because of temperatures hovering around freezing. That's the nasty, chilly, penetrating, unpleasant sort of cold that gives cold a bad name. Plus, it's not cold enough that you really have to dress for it. If you ask me, plus 10 to minus five degrees Fahrenheit (–12° to –20°C) is the sweet spot. It's crispy and dry, cold enough that you have to dress for it (which makes you comfortable), and, except if it's windy, not really all that cold. Very nice. YMMV!

Once it was –30°F in Wisconsin (with no wind) and I went outside in my T-shirt just to experience it. After a few minutes I could start to feel my body heat retreating to my core from my extremities. It was curious to reflect that all I had to do was stay out there and the air would kill me! Made me very grateful for a cozy little house.

Book o' the Week

In Search of Elsewhere: Unseen Images by Steve McCurry. The two Steve McCurry books I own—Looking East and The Unguarded Moment—are oversized (but not too oversized) and have some of the very best color photographic reproduction I've seen. I hope this will be the same, although it has a different publisher. Steve McCurry, although his career is not without blemishes, is a superb and accomplished photographer whose work is a joy to own and revisit. Note that he's a "visual storyteller," not a photojournalist.

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Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Tom Burke: "I remain in awe of the American climate—so cold in winter and so hot in summer. Here on the edge of Sheffield, at an elevation of about 600 feet, 2021 produced (if I recall correctly) an absolute low of maybe –4°C once or twice, and an absolute high of 30°C once or twice. Anything over 25°C counts as a heat wave here ('Phew What a Scorcher!' —Daily Mail headline), and we only saw that a handful of times last year. And 2021 was fairly typical. Also as I've got older I've found my tolerance of cold has diminished while my tolerance of hot has improved—I used to hate hot weather. My biggest gripe over the last two years has been that I've been deprived of my ration of real heat in the Mediterranean or Southeast Asia. (I hasten to add that I've had a good pandemic, and I recognise that many other people have suffered much more than I have.)"

Mike replies: I've always thought I'm actually British like a lot of my ancestors. A climate that doesn't get too hot would suit me. I had an art teacher for many years (six, from seventh grade to senior year) who was very influential on my life, Gerald Landt. Mr. Landt disliked hot weather. He'd tell us he had a headline from a British newspaper framed on his wall at home: it said, "70 Degrees Again Today, No Relief In Sight." (From the era when Britain used Fahrenheit.) Whether or not it was originally intended as a joke, it fit his temperament!

Our perception of temperature does change as we age—up to 15°F is what I've read. So what 70° felt like when you were 15 might feel the same as 85° when you're 75. Doesn't have to change by that much, but it can.

Henning (partial comment): "I agree with you. Temperatures around 0°F are quite reasonable and accommodating winter temperatures, as long as the wind is quiet and the humidity low. At that temperature you could go outside and do stuff: go shopping, take pictures, go for a walk just for the fun of it. Also, when it got that cold, snow slowly stopped being slippery, so driving was fun. I grew up in colder parts of Canada and that's what we had, a lot of the time."

John Hall: "Mike, I've been reading since the column on Luminous Landscape and I've known for a while that our worldviews overlap. Your opinion on cold cements it though. Barely freezing is well, cold. Truly cold isn't, and is gorgeous. Hope this storm blows you some deep cold and sparkling snow. Happy shooting."

James Bullard: "Your body heat wasn't retreating to your core, it was being sucked off by the cold air. Cold is an absence of heat energy, a heat vacuum so to speak, and heat moves into that absence. Stay long enough and all your body heat will get sucked off to warm the air. Hint: you don't have enough body heat to warm all that air significantly. My cold comfort zone is 45–60°F but only if I'm active, hiking, working, etc. Otherwise, it is 60°+. But then, I'm old. I don't tolerate cold well."

Mike Ferron: "My original home town of Bridgewater, Massachusetts, received 24 inches, or about .66m for our metric friends. That’s a lot of snow for one day. I don’t think I could handle moving back north again."

On Sunday night and into Monday we had what used to be known as a nice little snow, which is now known as Oh my God it's Armageddon huge storm affecting 80 million people roads closed ice snow hail disaster ice ice ice cars are slipping and the sky is falling airports closed travel discouraged carnage ruin apocalypse gaaaaaaaaah MELTDOWN. That seems to be the take of the news organizations concerning Winter storms these says. Something more to freak out about.

(I'm not saying it isn't a problem where it's really serious.)

Thirteen inches here, and the roads and driveways all clear by the next day. If you failed to prepare in advance and lay in at least 18 hours of emergency food supply, you could have, you know, gone hungry for a few hours. Such that your tummy might have rumbled. It was that bad. Of course, what kind of grasshopper doesn't have 18 hours of food in the house as a normal thing?

When I was young I remember a storm that dumped 18 inches of just this kind of snow over the morning and afternoon of a weekday, and my school, pretty reluctantly, let the kids go home at 2:00 instead of 3:15. That's how bad that was. Teachers of last-period classes were miffed. A gang of boys with snow shovels cleared the parking lot by hand. A bunch of us gathered at the foot of the mild slope of the parking lot entrance to help cars get up the rise to the road. More fun than last-period class.

In those days there were American cars with one-wheel drive (compliments of an open differential), and it was one of the rear wheels. Add shiny summer bias tires and it was no wonder they couldn't get up a gentle little slope. Back then, Swedish Saabs with front-wheel drive were considered super-competent for Winter driving. Now, FWD is normal and ordinary.

Have I mentioned recently how awesome snow tires are? This is lost knowledge today. "All-Season" tires should be called Three-Season tires. Two-wheel drive and snow tires beats four-wheel drive and all-season tires on snow and ice.

Of course, four-wheel drive with snow tires is best.

Anyway, life has returned to normal here at TOP Rural World Headquarters, thanks to my neighbor Jim Schnitzler and his enormous pickup truck with the industrial-sized plow on the front and a salt-spreader on the back. It's quite a rig. Great big knobby tires. I failed to get a picture. Took him about seven minutes to clear my driveway and he did a beautiful job.

His other car is a Prius. With all-wheel drive! Who says there's no such thing as progress?

Mike

Book o' the Week
Eye and Brain by Richard Gregory, Fifth Edition. "As far as I know nothing in the past 50 years is a better explanation of how humans see." —Hugh Crawford

The link is a portal to Amazon. Thank you kindly for helping support The Online Photographer!

The following logo is also a link if you click on it:

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Benjamin Marks: "I call this "Weather Alarmism." It is what happens when the news philosophy of "If it Bleeds, it Leads," is crossed with cable news specialization, as in "The Weather Channel." Hey, when else are you going to get the eyeballs?"

Rick Popham: "Absolutely agree with you about snow tires. I drive a Subaru AWD these days, and people ask me why I would bother with snow tires. I tell them 'It's because I like to stop when I have to.'"

[Comments have been added.]

Happy New Year to you!

It's New Year's Eve, so what better time to talk about resolutions? And resolve?

To begin with, a question—do you have any memory of ever sticking with a New Year's resolution for the whole year? I can't say as I do. In fact, I can't say I've ever remembered what my resolution(s) for the year were by the time the end of that year rolls around. Because of course when the odometer ticks over, as it will tonight, it's not just the beginning of the next year, it's also the ending of the last one. Without looking for the similar post I no doubt wrote last year, I haven't a clue what I resolved to do in 2021. I don't recall.

2022 C.E.

I have just one insight here: we all actually know what we have to do. It's really more a matter of facing fear, counteracting entropy, forging ahead, sucking it up, overcoming inertia, working the plan, or persevering after the enthusiasm wanes or the resolve dissolves—isn't it?

Be it hereby resolved...
So here are my two for 2022, for what they're worth, which might not be very much.

1.) I had the bright idea that what I should do for TOP is review lenses. I've been aware for a while that I'm no longer very happy reviewing cameras, for the simple reason that cameras are too complicated now, and I don't like the complexity and get no joy from it. I like beautiful simplicity, and that's just not the way the devices are now. And, as a reviewer, I stand little chance of understanding a new camera better in a week or two than the young mavens in the full flush of their shopping years understand them from poring over the voluminous info and the plethora of videos that exist. I can do it, of course; if I force myself. It's just that I don't have enough patience and interest any more to keep up with the guy who is obsessing over every little specification and wading into every obscure online argument...and who thinks that all that matters. To paraphrase Mrs. Pendrake in the whorehouse in Little Big Man (ancient movie reference—sorry, twentysomethings): I like cameras, just not all the time.

But I could review lenses. I enjoy trying new lenses, I can get them just by asking for them, and reviewing one involves looking and seeing and judgement, both of which I think are essential ingredients of reviews that are tasty and fun to read. I write pretty good lens reviews, I think.

2.) I need to learn to cook. Can't escape it. Can't get around it, can't go over it, can't avoid it. To sustain any way of eating you've chosen, you need something like one breakfast, three lunches, and a dozen dinners. That's to have a minimum of variety such that you can keep going without over-saturating yourself with one dish and making yourself sick of it.

The good news is that most people who aren't cooks don't have an infinite number of recipes they prepare in a never-ending succession. Just as we don't have an infinite amount of clothing in our closets, but rather a selection which we rotate intelligently, normal families and normal people don't have to have an infinite number of go-to dinners—and some have just enough so that repetition doesn't get onerous.

I really have no aptitude for cooking. I'm not good at it, don't enjoy it, and find it a chore. I know a certain number of cooks will chime in that "anyone can cook," but it's just not my thing. However, I need to learn how to cook a dozen dinners. It's simple self defense. No one is going to do it for me.

Compliance
I've talked about this topic before, but it's important and bears revisiting. In sobriety (I'm sober 31 years and part of today so far), there's a concept called "rebellion." I had a period in which I knew I needed to stop drinking, but I wouldn't. That's rebellion. The opposite of rebellion is compliance. My particular addiction*, alcoholism, is a slow-motion torture—it can take many years or even decades to play out. But at least it eventually leads some of us to compliance, for the simple reason that, unless you accept total abstinence (which is the only way to arrest it), it always gets worse. At every stage of the way, we think if it doesn't get any worse than this I'll be all right and I can keep on drinking...but it always gets worse. It never stays the same. It's a progressive disease. Eventually the point comes where rebellion needs to cease.

Or has to cease. The alternative is death. Somewhere between seven and nine out of every ten alcoholics either die drinking or die of drinking. I had two cousins who went that way. Joe, who was my age, drove into a pine tree one night, dead drunk, same death as his Dad before him (in my mind it's the same tree, but that's probably wrong), and his sister Amy, age 40, fell off the wagon with a bang and her liver shut down. When they loaded her into the ambulance, before she lost consciousness for the last time, she said, "I went too far this time, didn't I?"

Yep.

It's a totally weird disease. I heard about a guy whose boss came to him and said, "either you quit drinking or you're fired," and, despite the fact that he absolutely needed his job to pay his rent and buy his food, he instantly thought, well, there goes my job. That's crazy. But I understand.

When we're suffering from rebellion, what we're rebelling against are our own desires. That is, we make a resolution—because, like I said, we already know what we should do—and then we rebel against our own plan, our own ambition, our own common sense, our own best interest. Our own desire! We rebel against what we want for ourselves. Which is crazy, really.

I need to learn how to cook a dozen go-to dinners in 2022. It's my very own desire. Will I rebel, or comply? Maybe I should just settle for remembering what this resolution was, come the end of this year that for now is new.

All best wishes to you, in 2022.

Mike

P.S. The counter tells me this post is 1042 words, which reminds me of Bach's BWV 1042, perfect music for today. Check it out!

*By the way, here's the only accurate test of whether you are an alcoholic: stop drinking entirely for six weeks. Then, at the end of the six weeks, if you forget to start again, you are not an alcoholic.

Book o' the Week

Eyes Wide Open! 100 Years of Leica Photography Edited by Hans-Michael Koetzle

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

[Ed. note: As often happens, the following two opposing viewpoints arrived one right after the other.]

Tom Burke: "Lens reviews? Are you sure??

"It’s just that there are so many out there, both blogs and YouTube videos. You’ll be expected to produce charts; optical measurements; you’ll be expected to make throwaway comments to the effect that you understand how unrealistic lens test charts are, but hey! they’re the best thing we’ve got; and above all you’ll have to spend time doing all the stuff that I suspect you don’t really want to do. Roger Cicala already does an excellent job reviewing lenses, and why wouldn’t he? Who else has 100+ examples of the same lens? Or has multiple examples of equivalent lenses from all the manufacturers, and can compare them? And all that optical test kit he’s got….

"I think I’m trying to say that this seems to be an odd direction to take. Lens reviews—indeed, reviews of anything—are all over the internet, not generally of high quality, and usually repeat each other. Have you seen how many reviews there have been of the new Apple MacBook Pro laptops? They all feature the same benchmarks from the same software tools, so the results are pretty much the same and of course the conclusions are also quite similar. Similarly with lens reviews, in my experience.

"I might be wrong, and I apologise if this seems harsh, but I don’t think that’s where your strength are, or indeed why I read TOP. I’d always rather read about why you took that beautiful image of Butters at the bottom of the stairs; what was going through your mind at the time; and what you were hoping to achieve with the image, rather than the technical details of how it was taken, or what with. Please carry on with that!

"(Once again, apologies for the directness. And—Happy New Year! 2022 has got to be better than 2021.)"

Nick: "Lens reviews would be a great idea! For one, in most cases almost every modern camera is 'pretty good' and you can simply read spec sheets to see if it has particular new features you may want/need. But lens reviews are not often done with any subtlety or experience around how they see/draw which I think would be a specialty of yours. I may be able to look up MTF curves, but understanding how things actually look different is hard. For example I have a 24–70mm ƒ/2.8 to cover most of what I need, but how does that at 50mm look different to my Sigma Art 50mm at ƒ/2.8? If it's not an angle of view or aperture choice, what are the artistic choices and different looks given by different designs?"

MikeR (partial comment): "I think I threw it away some time this year, but I had a half-page paper where I had written about five things to do. I titled it, 'Resolutions for 20##.' Each year, I would cross out the old year, write in the new one, scan the list, and find that no change was needed. As in, I didn't do any of them."

[Ed. note: The full text of "partial comments" can be seen in the full Comments section, accessible in the footer of the post. The Featured Comments on TOP are meant to be a sampling, for the convenience of those who don't want to read all the comments.]

John Dahlstet: "I had decided to retire at the end of 1997 and, with that, end my filthy smoking habit. I was tired of being held hostage by tobacco. My last official day of work was 31 December '97, and on 3 January '98 I smoked my last cigarette about midnight. I have been tobacco free ever since. Today the smell of tobacco smoke or that idiotic vaping residue makes me ill. Quitting tobacco and later on giving up booze frees up substantial cash for other things: cameras and lenses come to mind."

Mike replies: That's great. Good work. Your comment reminded me of this, which you might enjoy....  :-)

David Francis: "For me, lens reviews are not much of a draw, so I would not be hugely disappointed if that particular resolution fizzled. What I would like to see more of is what you proposed in your original mission statement—content about the culture of photography, as it was in the past and as it is evolving now. What can you (and your insightful readers) tell us about the work of some of the greats of the past? Who is doing interesting work now? How does photography relate to other visual arts, and how is that changing? Why do we take photographs? What is their social value? What are the qualities that make a portrait, landscape, street photograph, or any other photograph memorable? Some of this may sound a tad academic, but it doesn't have to be. There's an infinite amount of material to be mined around these and similar topics. That's not to say that there is no place for discussions of lenses and other gear.

"Everybody likes gear, but there's more to photography than that. All the best for 2022."

Lothar Adler: "I am so happy to read that you want to devote more time to looking at lenses again! Lenses are so important in the representation, the optical transformation of the visible. Many people are not aware of this point of view in today's photographic life, because most lenses nowadays have been optimized by means of modern technology to objectifiable parameters and are therefore very similar. It is comparable to the modern design of cars. Compared to earlier times, the types are very similar, because they have been measured, among other things, in the wind tunnel and physically optimized according to advantageous flow conditions.

"The fact that there are a lot of lens tests and opinions on the Internet has no meaning for me, because the decisive factor is who and with what wealth of experience makes the evaluation of this optical transformation by the lens.

"What I think of all the time now is the great insight of J.W. v. Goethe, the German writer and scholar, who wrote: 'The most difficult thing is what seems the easiest to you, to see with your eyes what lies in front of your eyes.'"

[Comments have been added.]

Obvious question for Boxing Day—so what did ya get? Any photo-related treats, surprises, presents, gifts or goodies?

...For those who celebrated Christmas. Hanukkah was nearly a month ago, but please mention gifts from your seasonal celebration.

Presents you bought for yourself count too (because we all understand). Any photo-related presents you got for others?

(I'll be asking about photo-related New Years resolutions soon too, so think ahead!)

Mike

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

John Krumm (partial comment): "My wife gave me two photobooks. Ernst Haas, New York In Color: 1952–1962. Gordon Parks, The Atmosphere Of Crime, 1957. Both are great. No big photography presents for myself as I already did that earlier in the year."

Mike replies: The Atmosphere of Crime is a recent favorite of mine too. Outstanding photobook.

Kenneth Tanaka (partial comment): "Chizu ('The Map') Reprint Edition by Kikuji Kawada, 1965, reprinted 2014 by Nagasawa Publishing. Three years ago I decided to stop buying books of B&W photography. My principle photographic interests all lie in the realms of color capture and reproductions. And, with a library of over 700 books, I just don’t have space for many more books!

"But undeniable exceptions do appear, and Chizu is a perfect example. Photo books and zines have a very rich history as primary media for photography in Japan. Some years ago my participation in researching the Provoke show in Chicago really opened my eyes to post-war Japanese photo books, among which Chizu became one of the most rare and prized. The first edition of Chizu was a very small run and is virtually impossible to find. But fortunately Nagasawa recreated much of the original edition’s gestalt, including the rich gravure printing. It’s a very unique experience to view. So I couldn’t resist getting a numbered copy while I still could."

Mike replies: I found two reprints on Amazon, an expensive one from Mack and a very expensive one from Nazraeli, in addition to the one you link to.

Speed: "No new gear—I've got too much already. But I did spend a few hours off-and-on, trading images with a couple of friends—taking turns editing each other's work. Sometimes for laughs and sometimes to try something new. We do this now-and-then and I almost always learn something. Another view or a new technique. Not an activity possible before this internet-thing came along."

Lesley T: "Through the pandemic I have been working on the photography certificate program at a local community college. Although I am not learning a lot, it keeps me in touch with a like-minded community of people and has given my photography some direction and purpose while we have kept close to home (my husband is over 80 and immuno-compromised, so we have been very careful). Next term I'm taking a portrait class and, for a self Christmas present, bought the 85mm lens for my Nikon Z6 II.

"My adult nephew, a graphic designer, has become interested in photography and I gave him my Nikon D300, a couple of decent lenses, and enough gadgets and doodads so that he was well set up to start shooting on Christmas morning. He is thrilled, and I am very happy to see the equipment getting used again. At my age, giving really is more fun than receiving."

Dillan: "Santa brought me a Sigma 35mm ƒ/1.4 Art for my Canon EOS R. I am quite pleased!"

John Howell: "A copy of Looking at Photographs (already read once), a BH-40 ballhead (still on order), but best of all, the relaxation of state border restrictions so I can go and take some photos over in Canunda National Park in South Australia!"

Aaron: "We make photo books every year of family vacations, events etc. and give them as gifts. They’re always gifts that everyone appreciates. And they never get thrown out—we always see them on family members’ shelves. Previous books often get another look-through at this time of year, too."

Holiday shopping, 1918 (artist unknown)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to one and all! And your families, friends, and pets.

As I usually do at this time of year, I'll be taking a few days off. See you on Monday! Good health to you, and peace on Earth. 

Kind regards,
Mike

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Mike Ferron: "There is a gift I received from TOP (AKA Mike) that has little to do with photography. I am now eating a diet that is mostly plant based. I gave up the beer, all sugar, and nothing processed enters this mouth of mine. I am down 27 pounds since April. Karin is also on the same eating regime and also losing weight. So Mike have a great holiday and thanks for the motivation."

[An unscheduled post in honor of the occasion,
the day with the earliest sunset of the year.]

-

Do you have a least favorite thing about this season, the season of long nights?

We're still 17 days away from the shortest day of the year, but, as near as I can tell, today begins the days with the earliest sunsets, here where I live in the tiny hamlet of Penn Yan, New York (population 4,893 and falling). Our sunset is at 4:34 today, and will stay that way until the 13th.

The days with the earliest sunset are a little earlier than the shortest day of the year. I don't know why that is, but I don't need to.

The thing that annoys me about Winter days is that something in my brain tells me that once it gets dark, it's time to knock off work! That might be sensible in the Summer, when there can still be light left in the sky after 9:30. But it's ridiculous at this time of the year—Civil Twilight, so-called, ends at 5:07, and I still have six hours before I go to bed. I could get a lot of work done in six hours.

But do I? Sometimes. It gets dark and my brain still tells me it's time to relax, watch a few videos, and go to bed.

Perfect movie for a Winter evening
Speaking of both these things, if you've never watched the film Alone in the Wilderness by Dick Proenneke (pronounced PRENN-uh-kee), you should. It's fascinating watching him build his little cabin. Dick did all the cinematography as well—that was how he earned money, by making films of wilderness wildlife with a wind-up 16mm Bolex. The film was narrated by Dick's friend and the producer of the film, Bob Swerer, adapted from Dick's detailed journal. The two of them decided that Dick's own voice was too high and unpleasant for him to do his own narration.

The thing that brought this to mind is that I recall from the film that he slept extremely long hours in the Winter and extremely little in the Summers, his life synchronized with the daylight. There's a sample of the video on YouTube. But it's best to watch the whole thing. Kind of a basic must-watch, in my opinion—a true classic. Most of us would not have the skills and the work ethic to survive so easily in the wild, but Dick Proenneke embodies the idealized back-to-nature life that many city dwellers fantasize about at one time or another.

Mike

Products of the Week

Which one is best? Panasonic S1R (47.3 MP), Sony A7R IV (61 MP), Canon R5 (45 MP), Nikon Z7 II (45.7 MP), or Leica SL2 (47 MP)? You know the answer.

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Josh Hawkins: "On the upside I can get my sunset shots done and still be home in time for dinner."

I hope those of you who celebrated Thanksgiving yesterday had a nice time. I had a mid-afternoon dinner at the lakeside home of some friends and neighbors, the Wexlers. Despite the fact that such things are seldom called for in country living, I broke out the good jeans and an actual sport jacket for the occasion. With a pocket handkerchief, even! Well, sort of...

Like my natty pocket handkerchief? The maker is a hip and
happening high-style fashion brand called KN95.

I had a lovely time. The people (only two of whom I had met before this week) were accomplished and engaging and great to talk to, and I joked that the dinner was the best meal I've had in the decade of the 2020s—except I wasn't joking, it really was. A very nice occasion, and big thanks to Ilene and Philip for including me. It's not a good day to be away from family! (I did have a nice call with Xander, though.)

Along with many other people, I'm not very happy with the way a lot of things are going in my country and the world these days. But I was heartened to read online that a number of States have banned retail sales on Thanksgiving so their employees can celebrate the holiday just like they were actual citizens of our nation. Because of course, as you know, there's been a War on Thanksgiving in recent years, as the remorseless juggernaut of Christmas seeks to invade and annex ever greater swaths of temporal territory, not to mention mindshare and money. Another thing regarding Thanksgiving I ran across—well, actually it was shoved under my nose, by Apple News—was a feature on Buzzfeed (rule of life: never click on Buzzfeed! You only have one life and you can never get wasted time back!) featuring peoples' worst Thanksgiving horror stories. The one that made me laugh was this one from someone identified as LOTR4eva1 on Reddit:

"I was probably six or seven at the time. My mom's candles caught the kitchen curtains and some decorative greenery on fire. My sister and my cousins and I were at the 'kid’s table' in the kitchen while the adults were in the dining room, so no one of significance noticed anything except me. My mom threatened us with pain of death if we annoyed the adults during dinner, so I quietly walked to the dining room and stood silently for a minute or two, until someone noticed me, and only then did I politely say, 'Sorry, but the kitchen’s on fire.' My mom still gives me grief about my prioritizing politeness over sense...."

Fortunately we had no such excitement yesterday. All was very civilized, convivial, and pleasant, just as Thanksgiving is supposed to be. I hope yours was all that too.

Mike

Book o' the Week

Our National Monuments: America's Hidden Gems by Q.T. Luong. Just out! Brand new. Publishing isn't easy. Our friend QT (Tuan) Luong tells me that his new book will have to sell 6,200 copies out of a print run of 7,500 just to break even! And that's not including the labor and time it took to make the photographs. Fortunately, the predecessor book, Treasured Lands, has done exceedingly well. It has won 12 international awards and is now in its 6th printing.

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KeithB: "Recently seen meme: 'I will stop my war on Christmas once it stops its illegal occupation of November!'"

[The first day's comments have been added.]

-

I MIGHT BE OLD
...but I got to see all the best bands

—One of my friend Dan's T-shirts

I had the best weekend. Yesterday, on fairly short notice, we staged a Zoom reunion of my photography school graduating class—the Photography Department Class of '85 at the old Corcoran School of Art (as it was then called) in Washington, D.C.

It wasn't as big an event as you might be picturing—when I entered as a second-year student (first year was a foundation program in art before students specialized into departments), there were 15 of us in the Photo Department. When we graduated, only eight remained. Seven of the eight of us were in touch for this reuniting, but one had prior commitments and couldn't attend (hopefully Adrian will make it next time). Our classmate Sheri Lyn Marshall couldn't be located—the only person I knew who had been in touch with her recently was our teacher Mark L. Power, who largely built the photography program at the Corcoran in the 1970s—but I couldn't ask him; Mark died last August.

Being part of such a small class has definite advantages. Art is personal, and being mashed together for so much of our schooling for three years made us close in ways that have never been replicated in my life. Our graduating group of four men and four women had little in common in 1982 apart from a love of photography, but, even after 35 years, we slipped easily into the old dynamic. Seeing everyone again brought vividly to the forefront just how important these people were to me, then and in my subsequent life. We knew each other really well.

Engagé
We were known then to be a volatile, opinionated, vigorous, forceful, and lively group. The then-chairman of the Department, Steve Szabo, once commented to me privately that our group had "ten times the energy" of certain other classes the faculty had known over the years. Critiques, the core of the didactic method at the school, could be, ahh, let's say, very engaged. Jay Townsend wrote, after the meeting, "My wife and I still hang out with a lot of the fine arts folks from the Corcoran, and their interpersonal communications are generally very touchy-feely, quiet and sensitive, whereas our group is much more blunt, free-wheeling and challenging, but still very supportive of each other." In the group each one of us has a lot of integrity, I think, and long ago we learned to be honest with each other.  

We visited for two and a half hours on Sunday, on Zoom. Sarah Huntington called the meetup life-affirming, energizing, and inspiring, and got that right. But then that's the way we were. The reunion was one of the true bright spots of the Time of the Contagion for me. As competitive as we could be back then, it's so easy to see now that I really love these amazing people. I learned so much from all of them, and from our experience together. My time with them at the Corcoran shaped me.

Life is strange
It's true that it's best to be young, and, given the choice, we'd be young, for some definition of the word, if we could be. But later years have consolations as well. As I approach traditional retirement age, I really am deeply grateful that I lived across the span of years I did. It's been the perfect stretch of history to be involved in photography. When I was born, Edward Weston, Paul Strand, Edward Steichen, and Dorothea Lange were still alive. The Decisive Moment was five years old and The Americans would be published a year later. To see everything and watch everything that has happened up to now...well, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

The Corcoran sits in the midst of that experience. When I arrived there I had been forced to drop out of Dartmouth after doing very well there, and then (alcoholism raging, by that time) I crashed and burned out of Reed College in Portland all on my own. I didn't expect to fit in at the Corcoran, didn't expect to make friends, never thought I'd be anything but an outsider. If I'm honest, I didn't expect to learn much—I had already been busy teaching myself photography for two years at that point. I was pretty cynical. Originally, I planned to stay for only one year—my reasoning was that one year was better than none, and I thought one year was as long as I'd have patience for.

But life is strange. To my great surprise, I found a whole community of like-minded souls and made many friends. My frozen heart thawed out. I didn't have a teacher I didn't learn from, and I had veritable Socratic experiences with several of them. I stopped drinking, fell in love, learned to see, learned to print, learned where I fit in. I might be looking at the past with rose-colored glasses, but I honestly think I looked forward to every day. I loved art school. Every day held new surprises, new riches. I looked through every book in the library, saw every show in the gallery, listened to every visiting speaker, roved through all the museums and galleries of D.C. as if it had all been put there for me. All of it was just what I wanted to be doing. I stayed as long as they let me and graduated with a BFA. It was a marvelous time.

I'll write more when I can, but it's past sunset on Monday and I promised a post on Mondays, so I've got to be good and get this up. Anyway, our little six-person Zoom meetup yesterday might not have been a typical one, but for me it was everything a college reunion should be. And then some. Such a nice time. Big thanks and solidarność to Pam, Jay, Sarah, Ian, and Karen. May we meet again.

Mike

P.S. And by the way, we challenged each other to get the old cameras out of mothballs and shoot a roll of film before our next meetup. I'm in.

Book o' the Week

  Friedlander First Fifty. A very fun little book that gives a tour of the first fifty of Lee Friedlander's books—extra copies of which are apparently stashed all over every floor of his house. By his grandson, who is trying to sell full, signed sets on eBay. This is very enjoyable, but also might be the most unique book about photobooks ever. Who else has published fifty photobooks?

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Frank Gorga: "In my estimation, the value of caring, informed feedback/critique from a group of friends cannot be overestimated in the 'art life.' Too many photographers work in isolation. To me making photographs is a more-or-less solitary endeavor. However, on the other hand, we need feedback in order to do our best work.

"I belong to a group or a dozen accomplished photographers who get together once a month to share prints, gather feedback and 'talk photography' in general. I am always amazed at how little of the talk is about cameras, printers, etc. Most of the discussion is rather deeper than that. The group formed organically five years ago with three of us asking other acquaintances to join us over the subsequent months. I can not overstate the value of this group of friends to my growth as a photographer."

Zack S: "Speaking of seeing the best bands, I saw the Doors play the longest set they ever performed, at Cobo Arena in Detroit. Also saw Springsteen for the Born to Run tour and Pink Floyd do the Dark Side of the Moon tour there too. I saw Bob Seger play in a small bar long before he hit it big. Worked security for a show that John Lee Hooker was doing and just he and I sat around talking for about an hour."

Mike replies: Dan's T-shirt rests its case. My friend Kim K. (Corcoran '86) saw Led Zeppelin when they were an opening act. He saw Hendrix live, too. (Plus about 1,800 other bands—I picked that number out of a hat, but he's been a dedicated concertgoer for decades. He's responsible for about half of my own live-music experiences. The real number of concerts he's seen is probably more than that.)

John Robison: "What a great post. Agree with Dave Millier, post these type of remembrances more often. Your happiness just spills all over the page and is heartwarming."

Ron Hoffer: "So glad you could get together with such a nurturing group of Corcoran alumnae. As a former (and somewhat jaded) NYC native who moved to DC for work in the late 1970s, for decades I was delighted to experience, at lunch and in the early evening, the quality and approachability of the Corcoran exhibits and the so memorable pubic presentations by photographers from far and wide. A cherished photo book still in my collection is the slim catalogue from an incredible exhibit 'Washington Photography: Images of the Eighties' held in early 1982 featuring the work of not only Mark Power and Steve Szabo, but other great artists you may have run into Mike, including William Christenberry, Frank DiPerna, John Gossage, John Radcliffe, and Shirley True."

Mike replies: Knew them all to varying degrees except John Radcliffe. Went to NYC with John G., used to hang out with Steve, even. And that show was one of the reasons I went to the Corcoran! I didn't realize then what a great historical moment it was, but man were we lucky. 

The trouble with sports is that the writing is bad. So many times you get a story arc that's perfect and then it takes an abruptly awkward turn, or fizzles. Or something really wrong and "lifey" happens that offends our sense of the way things should be. If it were a movie or a Broadway show or a novel, the audience would be going, WTF? The producers in charge of pre-release focus-group testing would demand changes to the ending.

If the same writer that scripts sporting events were writing famous fictional endings:

• Ahab would eat contaminated lobster and die of food poisoning just before the crew of the Pequod kills Moby Dick in a routine hunt and renders him down into oil like all the other whales. Back in port, nobody believes the crew members when they claim one of the whales they killed was white.

Don't forget that Street Photography Day is Sunday, two days from now. It takes place every August 22nd, Henri Cartier-Bresson's birthday (this year is the 113th anniversary of his birth in 1908).

The deal is that you get your camera and get down into the street and take some street photographs no matter what you normally shoot or where. If you get a good one, you'll be able to share it here. There's also a Facebook page.

—Mike
(Thanks to Jan Kwarnmark)

Book o' the Week

There and Back: Photographs from the Edge by Jimmy Chin (available for preorder). "Filmmaker, photographer, and world-class mountaineer Jimmy Chin goes where few can follow to capture stunning images in death-defying situations. There and Back draws from his breathtaking portfolio of photographs, captured over twenty years during cutting-edge expeditions on all seven continents—from skiing Mount Everest, to an unsupported traverse of Tibet's Chang Tang Plateau on foot, to first ascents in Chad’s Ennedi Desert and Antarctica’s Queen Maud Land."

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Phil Martin: "Yay! Just as well I'm booked in to cover a community festival tomorrow which includes a street parade."

Will (partial comment): "I’d love to celebrate Henri (Cartier-Bresson) by heading into the streets of New York on Street Photography Day. Unfortunately, (Tropical Storm/Hurricane) Henri is scheduled to visit the streets of New York on Street Photography Day. So I’ll likely be doing all I can to grab a candid pic of the kids at play. Very much indoors."

Joe: "Come on. Every day is street photography day."

Wishing the Christians amongst ye well on this holiest of Christian holidays.

When I was a small child, the folk traditions of Easter thoroughly stumped me. Even at age five I was aware that bunnies don't lay eggs, and the idea of decorating food only to destroy the artwork a day later seemed wrong somehow; and the hunt for hidden eggs didn't seem to have a payoff, to a kid with a sweet tooth, because once you've eaten a hard-boiled egg or two, that's enough of that. None of it made sense to me. I liked Halloween and loved Christmas, but Easter was puzzling.

From there it was almost a relief to discover, later on, the Biblical and religious significance of today. 

If you're a reader of the Bible, the stories of the resurrection can be found at Matthew 28:1–20; Mark 16:1–20; Luke 24:1–49; and John 20:1–21:25. (All available online. Here's an article I thought was interesting about a new translation. A postmodern Bible?)

Happy Easter, if you celebrate it! And if you don't, have a nice day anyway.

Mike

What are the qualifications for trustworthiness in a photograph? Here's something you haven't seen anywhere else.

Mike

Book o' this Week:
Sugar is the silent nutritional crisis that is hiding in plain sight. The best book about it might be the prescient 1972 classic Pure, White and Deadly by the British scientist John Yudkin. Recommended. <—This is a portal to Amazon; also available at the Book Depository for global delivery with free shipping.

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