Archived posting to the Leica Users Group, 2000/07/25

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Subject: [Leica] Lessons Learned from Shooting - WAS: Initial Slide Sorts
From: "Dan Honemann" <ddh@home.com>
Date: Tue, 25 Jul 2000 07:26:35 -0400

<<<<<<<<<<
> For me, 5 keepers per roll is a _good_ average! 2 or 3 is more realistic.
> It's depressing when you have to chuck out the whole roll after a cursory
> glance!  As for _really_ good pictures - 1 every ten rolls if it's going
> well.
> Robert Appleby
>>>>>>>>>>

It _is_ rather depressing, isn't it?  But I'm discovering some secrets
(which I'm sure you folks already know, but here it is from a rank
beginner):

1. Shoot a _lot_.

2. Experiment: change subjects, positions, perspectives, distance, exposure,
lighting, emulsions--anything and everything.

3. Get as much feedback as possible: review the slides/prints alone and with
others so that you can learn from what you've done.

I just followed rules 1 and 3 above, and here are four lessons I've learned
already (I must be in a list-making mood; bear with me):

a. Rule no.2 above.  This may be due to my being in "learning" mode, but it
could apply forever; there's really no substitute for experimentation.

Having grown up (so to speak) on a zoom lens Way Back When, I've discovered
that I'm lazy about composing.  My feet get stuck.  I need to learn to crop
in the finder (move forward or backwards) or shift perspectives when taking
multiple shots (move laterally or vertically).

I have also found that I tend to take multiple shots without changing
_anything_.  Of course the subject is changing (expressions, positions), but
that alone isn't teaching me much.  I need to start experimenting more with
bracketing, depth of field, composition, selective focus, and so on.

b. Similar to lesson a, but specific advice on composition from my friend
Liz: "focus on what's interesting and eliminate the rest."  This speaks to
the generic rule about "getting closer"--literally and figuratively (more on
the latter in lesson c).

I found that way too many of my shots have extraneous information that's of
little or no interest: sky, street, cars, whatever.  This could partly be a
process of getting accustomed to shooting with the M and using framelines (I
don't recall having so much extra space in my photos back in my SLR/zoom
days).  In any event, several of my photos could be salvaged by enlarging
and cropping, which points to more effort required while composing the shot.

c. Pay attention.

This one's odd, and may just be me, but I've discovered (much to my chagrin)
that I'm actually a _nervous_ shooter--perhaps because I'm shooting candids
of people I don't know, and so feel shy about it (hopefully this will
dissipate over time), or because I'm already anxious about how the image
will turn out while I'm shooting it, or both.

In any event, the effect is that I'm rushing my shots without waiting for
the decisive moment (to be fair, at times I've already missed it due to
fiddling with exposure and focus, but that occurs less frequently than
hurrying the shot), and I'm being careless about basics like depth of field
and framing.  It's as though I'm in a just-shoot-and-get-away-quick mode.  I
suspect that being more attentive to what I'm shooting at the moment and my
comfort level while doing so will both increase over time, and are no doubt
mutually reinforcing.

d. Don't worry about the throw-aways (learned this thanks to the replies on
this list!).  See them all as experiments to learn from, then let them go,
looking forward to the next ones....

This last lesson may be the most important of all.  I've had to learn it
many times in many different areas of my life, but it boils down to this: if
you aren't having fun, why bother?  We tend to focus on products: the final
image, the completed essay, the released software, and so on.  But life is
lived in the _process_, and so, not surprisingly, the product tends to take
care of itself merely by virtue of attending to the process of creating it.
I've discovered that the product nearly always reflects the process: if I'm
not paying attention or enjoying what I'm doing, the product--regardless of
venue--ends up disappointing.

In the end, we've only got right now to work with.  All else is merely
memory or anticipation--figments of thought and imagination.  Even our
photos are not captured memories but, paraphrasing Winogrand, entirely new
facts that are discovered afresh in the process of seeing them this moment.

It's amazing how much you can learn after a few rolls through an M. :)

Regards,
Dan