Getting that Elusive Lucky Shot

You want to know the secret to getting a lucky shot? The absolute holy grail of photographer knowledge, seemingly eluding would-be artists throughout the century and a half that photography has been around? Don't worry, we're in the same boat. No matter how hard anyone tries, there just isn't a perfect formula for capturing the perfect picture. Some people prefer the "take photos sparingly" method, wherein the massive storage capacities of digital photography are ignored in lieu of a nostalgic idea that taking fewer frames forces one to focus more on form and content. Others just snap away like hell until their card is full. At the Ron Paul event at UCSD this past Friday night, I was definitely in the latter camp.

Presidential candidate Ron Paul waits in his vehicle prior to entering the stage during a gathering at the University of California, San Diego

Regardless of the fact that I was a pretty decent distance from his vehicle, and that I had to hold up my camera with its massive lens high above the crowd to even avoid getting an obscured shot, Ron Paul just happened to glance at my camera during the exact moment that I pressed the shutter button. And glance might be an understatement. At full size, it's clear that Ron Paul's face has some motion blur on it, a function of the fact that he wasn't posing for my camera in the least bit. Still, regardless of his or my intention at this specific moment in time, the outcome is a one-in-a-million photograph that I can add to my collection.

The rarity of such a photograph is also interesting in the context of the current age of digital communication that we live in. Nowadays, with the prevalence of smartphones and easy-to-use pocketable cameras, few people travel about without a camera on their person. Did Ron Paul catch a glance at me because my lens stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd of cameraphones? Or was it a fluke of nature, a "right place at the right time" sort of deal? I'm not sure. And I'm not sure if there's any way to ever be sure. Herein lies the difficulty in giving any sort of advice about capturing the perfect "lucky shot"--it's all about luck, plain and simple. There are things you can do to improve your odds at capturing a great photograph, like equipping yourself with the proper gear, or attending events where you'll have a chance to take interesting photos, but anything more is often out of your control. The best weapon at your disposal is your own will to get out there and take photos. Now that cameras have become so commonplace, however, it seems somewhat odd that so many "non-photographers" are willing to go out and take photographs everywhere they go, whereas many photographers find it much easier to stay at home and hoard over their gear (myself included, more often than not).

If this is the case, then what's the point of spending the entire rally holding your cell phone high in the air to record a speech given by a public figure that you know full-well will be available online by the time you get home? Well, there's no easy answer. Everyone has their own motivations, and whether or not they can articulate or pinpoint their specific intent is irrelevant. In my own case, the reason I spent the entire rally holding up a heavy camera (and taking over six hundred photos in the process) was a blatant desire to capture a shot that I could add to my portfolio. For others in the crowd, photographs might serve a communicative purpose, wherein an individual might snap a photograph on a phone and tweet it out moments later. Still, for many individuals, the reason to capture an event already inundated with cameras comes down to memory. A photograph can act as a marker, a personal statement saying "I was there." Even if this photo is never printed or shared, and merely lives in a virtual album on the user's mobile phone, it still serves as a bookmark of sorts. It is a folded page in the annals of one's own narrative, another stamp in the passport of life.

Remote Decay

I have an itch for exploration. It's often hard to find places close to my home that I haven't been to before, but every so often, I find a spot that's new to me. Most of the time, this involves driving great distances and hiking quite a while until I find remoteness and solitude. But the other night was an exception. Following a road I had only been on once before, I ended up in a barren cul-de-sac dotted with eerily rustling trees and shared only by another car minding its own business. The marine layer had already started to work its way in by the time I got there, so my options for photography were few. But I managed to capture a couple of images with my Sony NEX-5 that seem to do the landscape justice. I can only hope that places like this still exist in a few years, before the creep of expanding housing developments overtakes what is left of the region's immediate wilderness.

Adventure, or the Lack Thereof

I'd like to think that I'm an adventurous person. Sometimes I am, sometimes I'm not. It often depends on my mood, and largely how much sleep I've gotten the night before. In many ways, I have a strong adventurous spirit. But it is not always manifested in physical ways. I have a strong sense of enthusiasm for learning new things, for trying out new skills, and for improving my personal capabilities. But often times, when it comes to going out and exploring the world, I suddenly find myself reserved. The idealized version of myself is someone much more physically active and adventuresome, taking on challenges measured in leaps and strides.


Spear fishermen in La Jolla, California

My to-do list of "adventure" seems to be never-ending. I'd love to learn how to surf and snowboard. Rock climbing has always peaked my interest. And scuba diving seems like something I'd get a big kick out of. But even though I have an initiative for self improvement, I have a strange lack of motivation when it comes to tackling these goals. In some ways, I don't even know where to start. And this is further complicated by the fact that I have my whole life ahead of me to spend doing these things. But as someone who wants to go into the field of travel and adventure photography, I'm going to have to rack up many of these skill sets eventually. Or at the very least, I should try to gain back the wonderful sense of challenge that has all but faded.


Climber at the Garden of the Gods, Colorado

I told myself that I would travel this summer, and if the stars align properly, I'll at least get a chance to get out of here for a short bit. Still, that hasn't stopped me from dreaming. In-between spurts of cleaning and organizing today, I randomly planned bits and pieces of a theoretical Jack-Kerouac-style road trip. And it sounds like UCSD, my new school as of this fall, has plenty of opportunities for recreation and adventure. Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to redeem myself and reach that target of an adventurous spirit after all.

Gas Station, Borrego Springs

I was lucky enough to take another trip out to Anza Borrego State Park these past few days, and managed to take my paper photography gear with me. Luckily, my friends are amazing, and let me take the long exposures required to get these shots right! The image below was taken of a gas station in Borrego Springs, which had only a single pump. Though the street was busy and people came and went, the long exposure made them disappear, and makes it look as though the station is abandoned. So far, this might be my favorite shot with this new method.

More Experimentation

Here's another shot from my growing collection of photos captured using the techniques I wrote about in my previous post. This one was captured using a 70-300mm lens on a Pentax K1000 body, and the shot was (once again) about an hour long. At this point, I'm trying to figure out how long of an exposure is actually necessary to get a usable image, as the paper actually stops darkening at a point. Hopefully I'll be able to travel around a bit this week, and capture some even more interesting images!

Paper Photography

I'm working on perfecting a photography technique right now that I've never actually seen done before. Based on the readings of a technique called Solargraphy, in which one documents the tracks made by the sun using a homemade pinhole camera and photographic paper as a film medium, this method I'm developing now harnesses a similar quirk of the photo process.

Photographic paper, the stuff that black and white photographers use in the dark room, is usually extremely sensitive to light, as it is developed and fixed in chemicals that bring out an image captured in a matter of seconds on the paper. But because it is so light sensitive, photographic paper also darkens when exposed to sunlight, which (in a sense) overexposes it to the point of visibility. Solargraphy utilizes this same quirk of the paper to let it act as a negative, capturing an image over the span of a matter of months. But Solargraphy uses a tiny pinhole, which lets in a minuscule amount of light. What if you used an actual camera, with a wide-aperture lens?

This is the result. Each one of these images takes anywhere from 15 minutes to 2 hours to capture, depending on how bright the sun is. The "negative" that is created on the photographic paper is extremely impermanent, due to the fact that it cannot be fixed to halt any reactions that might occur. You basically get one chance to scan in the negative, after which the negative becomes even more faded from the light in the scanner. The images created with these methods are ethereal and oddly timeless, using unorthodox techniques to call back to a time when photography was much more inconvenient and difficult to master. It's a far cry from the digital cameras that we're so used to now, and it really makes you appreciate just how special the art of photography is.

I'm not sure I'd say that I invented a new technique. In all honesty, I'm not that clever. Someone must have done this before me, I simply can't find any record of it. Still, on a personal level, I came up with the idea on my own. And sometimes, experimentation of this sort is worthwhile to achieve results such as these. There's nothing fancy about this. No film is used, no developing is needed. Chemicals are unnecessary, and you only get one shot to get things right.

Spring At Last!

Spring in San Diego is a beautiful sight to behold. For most of the year, this lovely city is usually blanketed in a layer of brown and tan, due to the fact that we normally have very little water to let things grow. With the high amount of rain this winter though and a general warming trend, things have started to sprout. This is a perfect time to get out and photograph the green and rainbows of colors blossoming all around.

This photograph, though taken in August 2008, reminds me of this time of the year. It's a great example of using bokeh to enhance an image, and is one of my favorite stylistic tools for general use in photography. It was captured in Julian, California behind the Julian Pie Company restaurant on Main Street.