I love where I live.
And believe me, that's an accurate statement.
I spent 22 years, two months and two days in the U.S. Air Force, lived or visited throughout the world and nothing, and I do mean nothing, beats central Oregon.
It has everything I enjoy.
The summers days are hot. There are normally numerous days in triple digits...but with the heat comes low humidity. Several years ago, I went out for a bicycle ride. It was 104 degrees that afternoon and I rode for about 12 miles. When I got home, I was tired, but my T-shirt was dry as an old bone. A look at the local humidity told the story...it was at six percent.
The summer nights are cool. Temperature swings from day to night can be more than 60 degrees. Though I love sleeping on cool a night, I also enjoy laying out at night, watching meteor showers. To do that, I need to bundle up somewhat on the nights of my favorite show in mid-August. And the fact that the night skies are still dark enough for me to setup in my backyard to enjoy the spectacle, makes it even better.
Autumns here are nice. The days are warm for the most part and nights cool. Towards the end of the season, the weather appears more like winter than autumn, but even then, it's not all that bad.
Winters can be full of snow and cold, or snowless and warm. Twelve years or so ago, my nephew visited me in January. His birthday is at the end of the month and he made the comment to me on that day, that it was the first birthday he has had which didn't have snow on the ground. We had an El Nino winter that year and the days were 60 degrees or so and the nights 30 or thereabout. A very comfortable winter it was.
The spring time in central Oregon is really where things get fun. We can have snow, sleet, freezing rain, sunshine and 70 degree temps all on the same day. It's fun and very enjoyable. However, we don't have many storms in my area. I sit in a sort of protected spot. It's not that we never get storms, it is simply storms have several tracks they can take in this area which two out of three times takes them away from me...and I love storms.
But there is also a lot more this area offers. To the west of me are national forest areas and mountains. During the summer, these areas are great for those who enjoy the outdoors. To the south of me are the volcanic lands, dominated by Newberry National Volcanic Monument, one of my favorite areas on Earth. There are lava flows throughout the area, small cinder cones, large cinder cones and further south of some of these areas, the northern reaches of the great basin.
To my north are the high plateau lands with carved canyons showing signs of countless volcanic eruptions. There is also irrigated farm lands which go on forever it seems. Eastward are more forests, more volcanic terrains and more of the northern reaches of the high desert and great basin.
And in all these areas are lakes, reservoirs, rivers, streams, ponds, grasslands, badlands, hills, canyons, gullies and everything else which makes the great outdoors great for everyone.
And there lies the reason I love where I live. I love going out and photographing the natural world I enjoy so much. The photos on my Flickr photostream from Oregon are primarily from the Redmond area where I live. But there are some photos from areas north and south of me. But for the most part, Redmond is where I live and Redmond is what I photograph.
I'd like to expand my area of operations for photography, and someday I might, but for now, I can still get great shots along the Dry Canyon Trail, or Smith Rock area, or the badlands around the airport, or at Fireman's Pond.
However, there are things about this area which aren't all that great. First of all, the infrastructure was never designed to handle a rapidly growing population. It's slowly improving, but no sooner than one fix is finished, the population growth forces another fix. So road work and construction will be a continuously on-going project.
And then there are the wildfires. Every years brings large wildfires nearby, and a large fire means smoke. Smoke in the air makes breathing difficult, makes eyes burn and itch, gives everything a smoky smell and limits visibility. And in areas near the fires, fears of evacuation and loss of everything is constant threat.
Even with all these problems, for me the good things of the area by far makes central Oregon "God's Country."
And that, my friends, is the reason I love where I live.
Showing posts with label Flickr. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flickr. Show all posts
Friday, September 21, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Behind The Iron Curtain, Part I
Months ago, I debated with myself whether I should post certain photos to my Flickr Photostream. After doing a bit of research and weighing the good and bad reasons, I decided to go ahead and post those photos.
The photos weren't taken with the latest digital gear, nor were they taken with the finest 35mm color film. They were shot with Tri-X, a black and white Kodak film. And, they were shot 30 years ago. They were shot during another period of time when global tensions were strained, and two giants faced each other across the ring.
They were shot in the then cities of West Berlin and East Berlin.
Today, that beautiful city is known simply as Berlin. A wall, which split the city is no longer a barrier. In November of 1989, the single most oppressive object the world has known, fell. That object was known simply as The Wall. It went up in the early '60s and turned the western portion of Berlin into what was often called "an island of democracy in a sea of communism."
I went to Berlin because the Commander in Chief of US Air Forces, Europe wanted all of the newspaper editors under his command to go there, see what it was all about and tell the people who read their newspapers, what it is all about...why American troops were in Europe at that time. So a Newspaper Editor's Conference was set up for Berlin.
When I was stateside, I had gotten orders assigning me to Templehof Airport in Berlin, but during my processing for that assignment, I was told my assignment was being changed to Aviano AB, Italy. I was a bit disappointed, as Berlin was, in my mind, a magical place. Full of history, I was looking forward to my assignment there. But Italy had its good points and more. After a year and a half in Italy, I was loving the area of Italy I was in and the assignment.
However, when the opportunity came up to go to Berlin, I was very happy. When the date for my departure arrived, I took off in a train headed for Frankfort, West Germany. My train ride took about eight hours to get there and once I arrived, I was told I would have another 12-14 hours on the Troop Train, which would take us through East Germany and finally into West Berlin. It was a long ride, filled with lots of stops at train stations along the way. We were told to keep the curtains closed in our cabins while the train was at a stop.
At each stop, the train filled with Americans, was watched closely by the East German army, or maybe, police. I'm not sure which, but at one stop when I did lift the curtain and peer outside, I saw two uniformed individuals with AK-47s walking by the train car. When they saw me, they raised their weapons and headed towards the window. I dropped the curtain, closed my eyes, shook my head and knew I would soon be dragged out of the car by armed guards who would take me to a dark dungeon, lock me in and turn me into the latest pawn in the international game of the Cold War.
That didn't happen, because moments later, the train started to move. It didn't take me long to realize I was in Indian Country. Our train was riding through a part of the world where I was considered the bad guy. After "beating the system" (so to speak) at that one stop, I figured I knew the game and that I would play by my rules...or at least try. When we finally arrived in West Berlin, one of our first requests was to see Checkpoint Charlie.
While there, myself and another editor there for the conference, decided we were going into East Berlin on our own. Around 2 pm, we casually walked through the gates at Checkpoint Charlie, stopped at the currency exchange on the other side, got some East German marks and headed off for a makeshift tour of one of the most well-known, but secretive cities in the world at the time.
It wasn't long before I began to notice a couple of people following us. I decided I was going to let them know I knew they were there. So when we rounded a corner and were out of sight temporarily, I moved over to a wall of a building between us and waited. When the two came into sight, I smiled, waved at them and watched their reaction. There was a moment of confusion in the faces of the two which brought a bigger smile to my face. I shook my head and walked back to my friend.
Later on, when we became hungry, the two of us decided to get something to eat. As we walked along a row of buildings, the sounds of people enjoying themselves and the smell of food drew our attention and in we went. Prior to us going in the restaurant, we could hear people talking, laughing and having a good time. It was something we had not heard or experienced since crossing through Checkpoint Charlie early that day. But as soon as we went in, the place got so quiet, a person on side of the room could have heard a dropped feather hit the floor on the other side of the room.
When the shock of our appearance wore off, one of the people working in the eatery came over and asked us what we wanted. In our broken German, we managed to tell the person we wanted to eat and we were then escorted to raised table along the back wall of the room. Moments after we sat down, the door opened again, and two men entered the place and took seats near the front. I watched them, and when both were looking my way, I smiled and slowly dipped my head in acknowledgment of their presence. I knew they were probably East German Secret Police (Stasi) assigned to watch us, just like the earlier pair.
As we were being served our food, I saw the pair get up and leave. I figured they knew we had to come out sooner or later and that they would pick us up then. When we finally did finish our meal and walked outside, we realized it was dark and late and we had no idea of where we were. We had to be back at Checkpoint Charlie at midnight or all sorts of things were going to happen which wouldn't be good for us. So we started asking people walking along the sidewalk, the direction Checkpoint Charlie was. Everyone we asked, must have known we were being watched, as they would ignored us and quickly walk away. I was wishing those watching us would show up so I could ask them which direction Checkpoint Charlie was. But after asking a dozen or so people, a party of three came by and we asked them.
The threesome was an elderly gentleman, a young man and a gorgeous woman. When we started to ask in our lousy German, the older man said he spoke English. He then began to tell us how to get back and all involved public transportation of some type which we were not allowed to travel on. And for each mode of transportation he mentioned, I would say, "Can't use it." The first time, he asked me why, and I said, with a smile, "We aren't allowed to use government owned transportation because it supports a government we considered bogus." I guess this guy had gone through this before because he didn't blink an eye, but offered to take us there himself in his automobile. I figured we were safe in traveling that way, and since we had under an hour to go before the clock struck 12, I agreed go in his car.
We went to his house, along with the younger couple, and went inside where we were offered something to drink, which I declined, and where attempts to make small talk were made, which I discourage by asking when he was going to take us to the checkpoint. Finally he said we should go, so we got up and went outside. There, in front of his house was parked his car. In front of his car was also parked three East German green and white police cars and behind his car were another three green and whites of the local police. I began to wonder what was going to happen, but got in the older man's car, along with my friend, and the good looking East German gal and her companion. We then started to move as soon as the police cars started to move. We were getting a police escort to Checkpoint Charlie. I could only imagine what would happen when a small P.O.S. East German car pulled up along the gate at Checkpoint Charlie with six police cars and my friend and I got out and walked back into West Berlin.
Well, it never happened. We got a block away from Checkpoint Charlie and the police cars in front made a right hand turn and headed down a dark street. Now, one thing we were told was to not cross a meter wide white stripe which went around East Berlin, about 50 meters from The Wall. We were told it marked the kill zone. Enter that area, and you are fair game for the armed guards in the watch towers along The Wall. Earlier that day, my friend and I experience the fear the line brought in the face of a young child who accidentally kicked a soccer ball across it. He carefully, and slowly walked across the line, picked up his ball and joined his friends.
Now, were we in a car, surrounded by police, and that line was getting closer and closer in the front window. I was bracing for the bullet impacts the moment we flew across the line. None came. We stopped about 20 feet inside the kill-zone, and got out of the car. I watch the East German policemen get out of their cars and disappear into the shadows around us. When the driver came over to us, I asked where Checkpoint Charlie was. He pointed to a gap between two buildings and said "Right through there." I started to move in that direction when Ernst (that was his first name) began to make small talk. I figured since we weren't dead and since the police still hadn't dragged us off to some gulag somewhere, that he was connected in some way or another with the Stasi.
So with each question he asked, a smart remark of "Can't tell ya." came back from me and my friend. Finally, he said goodbye, pointed us towards the gap and wished us well. I said bye to him and the other two, and then said goodbye to the policemen around us. We then passed through the gap.
Waiting for us on the other side were East German border guards. Their AK-47s were held at their waist and the muzzles were pointed in our direction. I glanced over the barriers which blocked the roadway between the cities and saw we had the attention of the guards on the west side of The Wall. After a few moments, a Soviet officer, a major if I remember correctly, walked towards us. When he arrived, I saluted him sharply and asked him if his goons could let us go back "to the land of the free and the home of McDonalds." He barked something at them, to which they turned and disappeared into the shadows (the East Germans were good at that). He then escorted us to the pedestrian gate and started in with the small talk.
As we arrived at the gate which lead through The Wall and into West Berlin, he asked what we thought of our visit to East Berlin. I offered to tell him all about it at McDonalds (which was right up the road and visible from where we were standing) and even offered to pay for his meal, but wouldn't accept my offer. So, I turned to him and said, "It was fun here, but I will be glad to get back into the good side of The Wall." He nodded slightly, barked something to someone somewhere and a second later, the remote lock on the gate made some noise and it swung open.
My friend and I walked through, then over to the guard shack on the American side of Checkpoint Charlie where we answered a few questions, said we were okay and asked the best way to get to Templehof. Back at the airport, we were bombarded with questions from our fellow editors until the long day finally caught up with all of us and we turned in.
I was happy to be back in West Berlin and away from the oppression of East Berlin. I was also sad I wasn't going to be able to mess with people's minds for a while. But I knew we were going to get a tour of East Berlin and I would get another chance to become an international incident.
But I'll save that for another post in a couple of days.
The photos weren't taken with the latest digital gear, nor were they taken with the finest 35mm color film. They were shot with Tri-X, a black and white Kodak film. And, they were shot 30 years ago. They were shot during another period of time when global tensions were strained, and two giants faced each other across the ring.
They were shot in the then cities of West Berlin and East Berlin.
Today, that beautiful city is known simply as Berlin. A wall, which split the city is no longer a barrier. In November of 1989, the single most oppressive object the world has known, fell. That object was known simply as The Wall. It went up in the early '60s and turned the western portion of Berlin into what was often called "an island of democracy in a sea of communism."
I went to Berlin because the Commander in Chief of US Air Forces, Europe wanted all of the newspaper editors under his command to go there, see what it was all about and tell the people who read their newspapers, what it is all about...why American troops were in Europe at that time. So a Newspaper Editor's Conference was set up for Berlin.
When I was stateside, I had gotten orders assigning me to Templehof Airport in Berlin, but during my processing for that assignment, I was told my assignment was being changed to Aviano AB, Italy. I was a bit disappointed, as Berlin was, in my mind, a magical place. Full of history, I was looking forward to my assignment there. But Italy had its good points and more. After a year and a half in Italy, I was loving the area of Italy I was in and the assignment.
However, when the opportunity came up to go to Berlin, I was very happy. When the date for my departure arrived, I took off in a train headed for Frankfort, West Germany. My train ride took about eight hours to get there and once I arrived, I was told I would have another 12-14 hours on the Troop Train, which would take us through East Germany and finally into West Berlin. It was a long ride, filled with lots of stops at train stations along the way. We were told to keep the curtains closed in our cabins while the train was at a stop.
At each stop, the train filled with Americans, was watched closely by the East German army, or maybe, police. I'm not sure which, but at one stop when I did lift the curtain and peer outside, I saw two uniformed individuals with AK-47s walking by the train car. When they saw me, they raised their weapons and headed towards the window. I dropped the curtain, closed my eyes, shook my head and knew I would soon be dragged out of the car by armed guards who would take me to a dark dungeon, lock me in and turn me into the latest pawn in the international game of the Cold War.
That didn't happen, because moments later, the train started to move. It didn't take me long to realize I was in Indian Country. Our train was riding through a part of the world where I was considered the bad guy. After "beating the system" (so to speak) at that one stop, I figured I knew the game and that I would play by my rules...or at least try. When we finally arrived in West Berlin, one of our first requests was to see Checkpoint Charlie.
While there, myself and another editor there for the conference, decided we were going into East Berlin on our own. Around 2 pm, we casually walked through the gates at Checkpoint Charlie, stopped at the currency exchange on the other side, got some East German marks and headed off for a makeshift tour of one of the most well-known, but secretive cities in the world at the time.
It wasn't long before I began to notice a couple of people following us. I decided I was going to let them know I knew they were there. So when we rounded a corner and were out of sight temporarily, I moved over to a wall of a building between us and waited. When the two came into sight, I smiled, waved at them and watched their reaction. There was a moment of confusion in the faces of the two which brought a bigger smile to my face. I shook my head and walked back to my friend.
Later on, when we became hungry, the two of us decided to get something to eat. As we walked along a row of buildings, the sounds of people enjoying themselves and the smell of food drew our attention and in we went. Prior to us going in the restaurant, we could hear people talking, laughing and having a good time. It was something we had not heard or experienced since crossing through Checkpoint Charlie early that day. But as soon as we went in, the place got so quiet, a person on side of the room could have heard a dropped feather hit the floor on the other side of the room.
When the shock of our appearance wore off, one of the people working in the eatery came over and asked us what we wanted. In our broken German, we managed to tell the person we wanted to eat and we were then escorted to raised table along the back wall of the room. Moments after we sat down, the door opened again, and two men entered the place and took seats near the front. I watched them, and when both were looking my way, I smiled and slowly dipped my head in acknowledgment of their presence. I knew they were probably East German Secret Police (Stasi) assigned to watch us, just like the earlier pair.
As we were being served our food, I saw the pair get up and leave. I figured they knew we had to come out sooner or later and that they would pick us up then. When we finally did finish our meal and walked outside, we realized it was dark and late and we had no idea of where we were. We had to be back at Checkpoint Charlie at midnight or all sorts of things were going to happen which wouldn't be good for us. So we started asking people walking along the sidewalk, the direction Checkpoint Charlie was. Everyone we asked, must have known we were being watched, as they would ignored us and quickly walk away. I was wishing those watching us would show up so I could ask them which direction Checkpoint Charlie was. But after asking a dozen or so people, a party of three came by and we asked them.
The threesome was an elderly gentleman, a young man and a gorgeous woman. When we started to ask in our lousy German, the older man said he spoke English. He then began to tell us how to get back and all involved public transportation of some type which we were not allowed to travel on. And for each mode of transportation he mentioned, I would say, "Can't use it." The first time, he asked me why, and I said, with a smile, "We aren't allowed to use government owned transportation because it supports a government we considered bogus." I guess this guy had gone through this before because he didn't blink an eye, but offered to take us there himself in his automobile. I figured we were safe in traveling that way, and since we had under an hour to go before the clock struck 12, I agreed go in his car.
We went to his house, along with the younger couple, and went inside where we were offered something to drink, which I declined, and where attempts to make small talk were made, which I discourage by asking when he was going to take us to the checkpoint. Finally he said we should go, so we got up and went outside. There, in front of his house was parked his car. In front of his car was also parked three East German green and white police cars and behind his car were another three green and whites of the local police. I began to wonder what was going to happen, but got in the older man's car, along with my friend, and the good looking East German gal and her companion. We then started to move as soon as the police cars started to move. We were getting a police escort to Checkpoint Charlie. I could only imagine what would happen when a small P.O.S. East German car pulled up along the gate at Checkpoint Charlie with six police cars and my friend and I got out and walked back into West Berlin.
Well, it never happened. We got a block away from Checkpoint Charlie and the police cars in front made a right hand turn and headed down a dark street. Now, one thing we were told was to not cross a meter wide white stripe which went around East Berlin, about 50 meters from The Wall. We were told it marked the kill zone. Enter that area, and you are fair game for the armed guards in the watch towers along The Wall. Earlier that day, my friend and I experience the fear the line brought in the face of a young child who accidentally kicked a soccer ball across it. He carefully, and slowly walked across the line, picked up his ball and joined his friends.
Now, were we in a car, surrounded by police, and that line was getting closer and closer in the front window. I was bracing for the bullet impacts the moment we flew across the line. None came. We stopped about 20 feet inside the kill-zone, and got out of the car. I watch the East German policemen get out of their cars and disappear into the shadows around us. When the driver came over to us, I asked where Checkpoint Charlie was. He pointed to a gap between two buildings and said "Right through there." I started to move in that direction when Ernst (that was his first name) began to make small talk. I figured since we weren't dead and since the police still hadn't dragged us off to some gulag somewhere, that he was connected in some way or another with the Stasi.
So with each question he asked, a smart remark of "Can't tell ya." came back from me and my friend. Finally, he said goodbye, pointed us towards the gap and wished us well. I said bye to him and the other two, and then said goodbye to the policemen around us. We then passed through the gap.
Waiting for us on the other side were East German border guards. Their AK-47s were held at their waist and the muzzles were pointed in our direction. I glanced over the barriers which blocked the roadway between the cities and saw we had the attention of the guards on the west side of The Wall. After a few moments, a Soviet officer, a major if I remember correctly, walked towards us. When he arrived, I saluted him sharply and asked him if his goons could let us go back "to the land of the free and the home of McDonalds." He barked something at them, to which they turned and disappeared into the shadows (the East Germans were good at that). He then escorted us to the pedestrian gate and started in with the small talk.
As we arrived at the gate which lead through The Wall and into West Berlin, he asked what we thought of our visit to East Berlin. I offered to tell him all about it at McDonalds (which was right up the road and visible from where we were standing) and even offered to pay for his meal, but wouldn't accept my offer. So, I turned to him and said, "It was fun here, but I will be glad to get back into the good side of The Wall." He nodded slightly, barked something to someone somewhere and a second later, the remote lock on the gate made some noise and it swung open.
My friend and I walked through, then over to the guard shack on the American side of Checkpoint Charlie where we answered a few questions, said we were okay and asked the best way to get to Templehof. Back at the airport, we were bombarded with questions from our fellow editors until the long day finally caught up with all of us and we turned in.
I was happy to be back in West Berlin and away from the oppression of East Berlin. I was also sad I wasn't going to be able to mess with people's minds for a while. But I knew we were going to get a tour of East Berlin and I would get another chance to become an international incident.
But I'll save that for another post in a couple of days.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
The Eyes of Texas are in My Photos
I have been working on my Texas pics and posting them on Flickr. It's a slow process of select the best image, work it over until I am satisfied, locate an identification on the subject, upload the image, title and describe it, ok it, then go on to the next one.
Depending on the image, that can take between 30 minutes and several hours. I even spent four days trying to ID one critter in my early uploading days.
I don't mind...I learn a lot on each image I search for identities, so it's a win-win situation. A person can never know too much, which is a hell of a lot better than not knowing enough.
I also redid one of those MySpace things. I always wondered why my nephew has sooo many women on his site. But I don't anymore. He must "approve" everyone of those spamming hussies he gets a request from...hehehe. I have declined at least a dozen already. If those gals really looked at my profile and/or really looked at my photo, they never would have sent me the request. Well...maybe they would...but a pic of a hot, sexy slut begging me to approve her as one of my friends just ain't what I am about.
Now, if they would knock on my door, well, that's a different story.
Depending on the image, that can take between 30 minutes and several hours. I even spent four days trying to ID one critter in my early uploading days.
I don't mind...I learn a lot on each image I search for identities, so it's a win-win situation. A person can never know too much, which is a hell of a lot better than not knowing enough.
I also redid one of those MySpace things. I always wondered why my nephew has sooo many women on his site. But I don't anymore. He must "approve" everyone of those spamming hussies he gets a request from...hehehe. I have declined at least a dozen already. If those gals really looked at my profile and/or really looked at my photo, they never would have sent me the request. Well...maybe they would...but a pic of a hot, sexy slut begging me to approve her as one of my friends just ain't what I am about.
Now, if they would knock on my door, well, that's a different story.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Photo-lema
For those of you who haven't looked at my profile, I enjoy photography. These days, I shoot photos of nature. There are a couple of places on the net where I upload my better shots for the world to see. One of those places is Ashrunner's Photo Safaris. I put what I consider my best images there. Some are from my past, but most were shot within the past couple of years.
Another site I post photos to is a nature site. There, photographers from around the world look at your shot, comment on it, critique it and grade it. The site also allows (if the posting photographer allows it) others to workshop the image, or "fix" the photo. I generally don't have a problem with this, as I process my photos to a look I prefer.
However, the critiquing is what I look for. People critiquing other photos say things like, focus is soft, image is washed-out, point-of-view would have been better if..., things like that. But some of what is said, isn't critiquing...at least not in my opinion. When another photographer comments on soft focus, that photographer is basing the comment on his or her equipment. Not all camera gear is created equal. If a photographer wants to take tack sharp images every time he or she triggers the shutter, they need high quality glass...and that costs money. A lot of people can afford such luxuries, but many can't. Every time I read a comment like that, it burns my ass.
Comparing great equipment to average equipment is asinine. What if the originating photographer wanted the image to look soft? What if the originating photographer was doing the best he or she can with the best equipment they can afford, which may or may not be great equipment? Telling someone something they already subconsciously know already is a great way to build animosity and discourage future work. So, if you're a photographer reading this and like to critique the work of other shooters, keep things in perspective when you talk about someone else's work. They may not have the resources you have and are only trying to produce the best image they can with what they got.
But the other things I mentioned above are good to point out. Telling someone how the POV change would have given the image more impact is a great way to improve someone's photography. I learned how to "frame" my shots by shooting, and listening to people when they asked why I did something and their comments to my reply. Constructive criticism is a great learning tool. But it also has to be done in a positive manner. Something like, "I see what you were trying to do with this image. I might have moved to this position to shoot it. Either way, its a good image." The person then looks at the mentioned angle, thinks about it, and it's in the back of their head for the next time they shoot a similar subject. Telling a person something like, "Point of view could have been better," tells that person absolutely nothing.
Then there is the critique about the processing process. That too is subjective to the individuals equipment. Someone who can't afford Photoshop is going to have a hard time duplicating the results of someone who has the program. There are good substitutes out there, but 90 percent of the tutorials on how to do something revolve around the defacto industry standard...not the programs on the fringes. Sure, many of the commands or actions are called the same, but they don't do things as well as Photoshop does. Then there is the hardware. A well calibrated system is going to produce consistently better results over a system which isn't calibrated. Calibrating hardware is available, works wonders, but again, not everyone can afford a good calibrating system. I personally shoot all my shots in AdobeRGB(1998) and process them with the AdobeRGB(1998) ICC profile. Every graphics program I have which allows me to select a color profile to use, has that profile selected. The images are converted to sRGB for uploading on the net.
And monitors aren't the same either. An older monitor may have its brightness fading slowly which is like a child growing. You never really notice it until you leave for a month or so and come back. I have that problem with my monitor. The brightness faded on me...enough to the point where images I post to various sites were washed-out. I never would have know that had someone not mentioned it. But I can't afford a new monitor. So, looking over the "workshop" photos, I realized that most images needed a boost of 20 percent or so in contrast. Once I started doing that, two words left most of my critiques -- washed and out.
For the most part, people mean well when they critique something someone else did. It's hard to look at something you have created in a critical enough way to tear apart the way it looks to the point of improving it. When I was a journalist, I would generally give my article to someone else to proof for me, as I would miss a lot typos simply because I saw what I thought I wrote. It's the same with a photograph. When I process my images, I do it to where I think the image looks best. And herein lies the need for sites where photographers critique other photographers.
But remember if you ever do it to critique style and content, not equipment capability.
Another site I post photos to is a nature site. There, photographers from around the world look at your shot, comment on it, critique it and grade it. The site also allows (if the posting photographer allows it) others to workshop the image, or "fix" the photo. I generally don't have a problem with this, as I process my photos to a look I prefer.
However, the critiquing is what I look for. People critiquing other photos say things like, focus is soft, image is washed-out, point-of-view would have been better if..., things like that. But some of what is said, isn't critiquing...at least not in my opinion. When another photographer comments on soft focus, that photographer is basing the comment on his or her equipment. Not all camera gear is created equal. If a photographer wants to take tack sharp images every time he or she triggers the shutter, they need high quality glass...and that costs money. A lot of people can afford such luxuries, but many can't. Every time I read a comment like that, it burns my ass.
Comparing great equipment to average equipment is asinine. What if the originating photographer wanted the image to look soft? What if the originating photographer was doing the best he or she can with the best equipment they can afford, which may or may not be great equipment? Telling someone something they already subconsciously know already is a great way to build animosity and discourage future work. So, if you're a photographer reading this and like to critique the work of other shooters, keep things in perspective when you talk about someone else's work. They may not have the resources you have and are only trying to produce the best image they can with what they got.
But the other things I mentioned above are good to point out. Telling someone how the POV change would have given the image more impact is a great way to improve someone's photography. I learned how to "frame" my shots by shooting, and listening to people when they asked why I did something and their comments to my reply. Constructive criticism is a great learning tool. But it also has to be done in a positive manner. Something like, "I see what you were trying to do with this image. I might have moved to this position to shoot it. Either way, its a good image." The person then looks at the mentioned angle, thinks about it, and it's in the back of their head for the next time they shoot a similar subject. Telling a person something like, "Point of view could have been better," tells that person absolutely nothing.
Then there is the critique about the processing process. That too is subjective to the individuals equipment. Someone who can't afford Photoshop is going to have a hard time duplicating the results of someone who has the program. There are good substitutes out there, but 90 percent of the tutorials on how to do something revolve around the defacto industry standard...not the programs on the fringes. Sure, many of the commands or actions are called the same, but they don't do things as well as Photoshop does. Then there is the hardware. A well calibrated system is going to produce consistently better results over a system which isn't calibrated. Calibrating hardware is available, works wonders, but again, not everyone can afford a good calibrating system. I personally shoot all my shots in AdobeRGB(1998) and process them with the AdobeRGB(1998) ICC profile. Every graphics program I have which allows me to select a color profile to use, has that profile selected. The images are converted to sRGB for uploading on the net.
And monitors aren't the same either. An older monitor may have its brightness fading slowly which is like a child growing. You never really notice it until you leave for a month or so and come back. I have that problem with my monitor. The brightness faded on me...enough to the point where images I post to various sites were washed-out. I never would have know that had someone not mentioned it. But I can't afford a new monitor. So, looking over the "workshop" photos, I realized that most images needed a boost of 20 percent or so in contrast. Once I started doing that, two words left most of my critiques -- washed and out.
For the most part, people mean well when they critique something someone else did. It's hard to look at something you have created in a critical enough way to tear apart the way it looks to the point of improving it. When I was a journalist, I would generally give my article to someone else to proof for me, as I would miss a lot typos simply because I saw what I thought I wrote. It's the same with a photograph. When I process my images, I do it to where I think the image looks best. And herein lies the need for sites where photographers critique other photographers.
But remember if you ever do it to critique style and content, not equipment capability.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Fixin' Boo-boos
I'll finish posting the remaining images I have to post to my Flickr photostream soon. I found some errors I made with the information I provided and with the "tagging" process. I made some boo-boos inputting some of them which required multiple words. I also decided I would go through all the images just to make sure the descriptions were as accurate as possible. Live and learn I guess.
While looking through past photos I have here, I am amazed at what I thought was a good camera five or six years ago...hehehe. My Mavica FD91 photos look so, so, so bad compared to the Dimage 7i or the Canon Digital Rebel. But there was still one or two images I got with the Mavica camera which I will probably never get again and will post them shortly. I also have five or six Minolta images I need to tweak a bit before I post them.
Anyway, the bottom line is, I have finished the backlog of posting and will now need to go out and get new images to post if I don't want my Flickr account to go dormant. And, what with the cool, but still nice weather predicted for the next week or so around this part of the world, it should be fun. Probably won't see a lot of the thing I prefer shooting, but the exercise with do my fat arse some good...hehehe.
While looking through past photos I have here, I am amazed at what I thought was a good camera five or six years ago...hehehe. My Mavica FD91 photos look so, so, so bad compared to the Dimage 7i or the Canon Digital Rebel. But there was still one or two images I got with the Mavica camera which I will probably never get again and will post them shortly. I also have five or six Minolta images I need to tweak a bit before I post them.
Anyway, the bottom line is, I have finished the backlog of posting and will now need to go out and get new images to post if I don't want my Flickr account to go dormant. And, what with the cool, but still nice weather predicted for the next week or so around this part of the world, it should be fun. Probably won't see a lot of the thing I prefer shooting, but the exercise with do my fat arse some good...hehehe.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Graduations and Retirements
I finished uploading my "Other Insects" photos to Flickr and thought I was done with my Canon digital photos. Well, I wasn't...hehehe. I had forgotten about my "Critters" photos. So, I'll be working on them for the time being.
I also removed my photos from my 360! album and placed them on Flickr. I did this because while visiting a friend the other day, I wanted to show him a photo I had placed in that album. However, at his place, with his computer, I could not access that album. Fearing no one was seeing the album, I removed it from there. I have made reference to photos in it in my blog, so if anyone reading this now has read my blogs in the past and wondered what photo I was referring to, well, now you know. Just go to my photostream from the main page here, and look under "Scenics."
Earlier today I was sort of half watching, half ignoring an episode of E.R. I had watched that show the first year it was on, but really didn't get all that involved with it. Today's episode was about Carter graduating from residency (or whatever it is a doctor does to earn his white coat) and missing the ceremony because he decided to stay with a frightened, young girl suffering from kidney failure (I got all that in the last 20 minutes of the show when I for some reason I stopped half ignoring it). Towards the final moments of the show, he was sitting with another doctor and they were talking about missing their graduations. It made me think...
I don't remember many of my "graduations." I don't remember graduating from elementary school to high school...barely remember graduating high school...don't remember my basic training graduation at all (I think we participated in a military parade) and I don't remember any of the graduations from any of the schools I went to during my military career.
As I have mentioned before (I think...but too lazy to check back), I spent 22 years, two months, and two days in the US Air Force. I am proud of the time I served; proud of a lot of things I did during that time period. In the future I will most likely pass on some of my war stories here. But to get back to the previous thought...my graduations.
I guess a person could make the case that retiring from something is a form of graduating. If that is so, I don't remember my retirement. I am not complaining, just saying...I really didn't have a retirement. My last assignment was at Clark AB, The Philippines. The base was naturally retired from the US Air Force inventory when Mt. Pinatubo erupted and more or less destroyed the base. I was there when that happened.
But before it happened, I was already planning my retirement . I was informed of a new policy the Air Force was implementing...that of an E-6 (Technical Sergeant) who reached 20 years of service, had to retire. Before that change, an E-6 could remain in the service until 24 years. I know I would have made E-7 by then. But the powers to be said I had to retire. So I began planning for it.
Then the mountain blew.
Lucky for me too, since I was probably the only person on the base at that time who had had any experience with volcanic eruptions and military operations. So I was asked to stay past my planned retirement date because my "corporate memory" of my previous experience (Mt. St. Helens) might prove useful...and it did, but more on that at another time. However, when Hq. Air Force approved my remaining on active duty, it was under the condition that I retire when I left Clark AB.
On June 15, 1991, the mountain blew up...literally. I remained on the base until Nov. 22, 1991. My planned retirement date was Aug 1, 1991. But when I left Clark AB, it was a shell of what it had been. When I stepped on the bus to take me to Manila, there were only 150 American servicemen left on what was prior to the eruption, the largest US military installation overseas. From Manila, I flew to Seattle and then went to McChord AFB, Washington for retirement processing.
At Clark, I didn't get a large dinner with all my friends -- they were all long gone to other assignments. I didn't get a military parade honoring my service -- and would not have asked for one. I did get a small goodbye dinner which included several other people leaving Clark at the same time I was departing. When I arrived at McChord, there were three days before the Thanksgiving holiday and everyone wanted to finish my paperwork before then...and no one there knew me from Adam.
When my processing was finished, I was given my marching papers, told my certificate would be mailed to me, handed a decoration for my service and then I was a civilian.
It may not have been a typical retirement, but it definitely was a memorable one.
I also removed my photos from my 360! album and placed them on Flickr. I did this because while visiting a friend the other day, I wanted to show him a photo I had placed in that album. However, at his place, with his computer, I could not access that album. Fearing no one was seeing the album, I removed it from there. I have made reference to photos in it in my blog, so if anyone reading this now has read my blogs in the past and wondered what photo I was referring to, well, now you know. Just go to my photostream from the main page here, and look under "Scenics."
Earlier today I was sort of half watching, half ignoring an episode of E.R. I had watched that show the first year it was on, but really didn't get all that involved with it. Today's episode was about Carter graduating from residency (or whatever it is a doctor does to earn his white coat) and missing the ceremony because he decided to stay with a frightened, young girl suffering from kidney failure (I got all that in the last 20 minutes of the show when I for some reason I stopped half ignoring it). Towards the final moments of the show, he was sitting with another doctor and they were talking about missing their graduations. It made me think...
I don't remember many of my "graduations." I don't remember graduating from elementary school to high school...barely remember graduating high school...don't remember my basic training graduation at all (I think we participated in a military parade) and I don't remember any of the graduations from any of the schools I went to during my military career.
As I have mentioned before (I think...but too lazy to check back), I spent 22 years, two months, and two days in the US Air Force. I am proud of the time I served; proud of a lot of things I did during that time period. In the future I will most likely pass on some of my war stories here. But to get back to the previous thought...my graduations.
I guess a person could make the case that retiring from something is a form of graduating. If that is so, I don't remember my retirement. I am not complaining, just saying...I really didn't have a retirement. My last assignment was at Clark AB, The Philippines. The base was naturally retired from the US Air Force inventory when Mt. Pinatubo erupted and more or less destroyed the base. I was there when that happened.
But before it happened, I was already planning my retirement . I was informed of a new policy the Air Force was implementing...that of an E-6 (Technical Sergeant) who reached 20 years of service, had to retire. Before that change, an E-6 could remain in the service until 24 years. I know I would have made E-7 by then. But the powers to be said I had to retire. So I began planning for it.
Then the mountain blew.
Lucky for me too, since I was probably the only person on the base at that time who had had any experience with volcanic eruptions and military operations. So I was asked to stay past my planned retirement date because my "corporate memory" of my previous experience (Mt. St. Helens) might prove useful...and it did, but more on that at another time. However, when Hq. Air Force approved my remaining on active duty, it was under the condition that I retire when I left Clark AB.
On June 15, 1991, the mountain blew up...literally. I remained on the base until Nov. 22, 1991. My planned retirement date was Aug 1, 1991. But when I left Clark AB, it was a shell of what it had been. When I stepped on the bus to take me to Manila, there were only 150 American servicemen left on what was prior to the eruption, the largest US military installation overseas. From Manila, I flew to Seattle and then went to McChord AFB, Washington for retirement processing.
At Clark, I didn't get a large dinner with all my friends -- they were all long gone to other assignments. I didn't get a military parade honoring my service -- and would not have asked for one. I did get a small goodbye dinner which included several other people leaving Clark at the same time I was departing. When I arrived at McChord, there were three days before the Thanksgiving holiday and everyone wanted to finish my paperwork before then...and no one there knew me from Adam.
When my processing was finished, I was given my marching papers, told my certificate would be mailed to me, handed a decoration for my service and then I was a civilian.
It may not have been a typical retirement, but it definitely was a memorable one.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Photos, Cameras, Blogs and Magnetic Reversals?
I opened one of those Myspace things late last year. In the two weeks I had it, only 15 people have visited it. In that same time, I have had about 100 pass through my Yahoo 360! page.
That tells me something. I got more action at 360! than I do at Myspace. So, I plan to dump my Myspace space. Why waste time working on something few people will see? I don't know how many folks read these ramblings of mine, but I do know a hell of a lot more people go to my 360! page than the other one. (Update - I have since given up totally on MySpace and even posted about it, and no longer use my Yahoo 360! page.)
I have a bunch more images to post in my photostream. I still have two dozen or so images to "work" for posting, so I think I will finish them, then post all my Canon images. Then it will be time for the Minolta Dimage 7i images and the Sony Mavica FD-91 images...maybe. I know they will look like crap next to 7i images and definitely the Canon Rebel shots, so I will have to either pull the greatest feat of image processing or not post the shots. Maybe I'll stick them in their own gallery. That way they won't be so easy to compare to the other shots.
Boy has it gotten cold here! The mercury has been hovering around 4 degrees since about 9 pm under clear skies. I'm just glad there isn't a meteor shower I want to watch tonight!
A friend of mine asked me about Global Warming the other night. I told her I didn't think of it as Global Warming, as much as I think of it as Climate Change. What's causing climate change? I'm not sure. It does appear humans have something to do with it, what with the destruction of the rain forests in South American and explosion in size of cities. And burning all the fuels you all burn moving around (yes...I said you all...I walk and ride my bicycle 99 percent of the time when I go somewhere) going places doesn't help. But I think there is more to it.
Every once in a while, I'll get this wave of dizziness flow over me. It will last less than a second most of the time, but it is something that doesn't just hit me. In most of the cases when it happens, I feel it on one side first when it begins, then another side when it ends. It's strange, but I think it is something to do with Mother Earth. Are we moving towards a reversal of the magnetic field of Earth? I don't know what it is, but I just get this feeling something is happening, or going to happen.
I am not one of those "The Earth will end tomorrow" guys...not at all. I just seem to have a sensitivity to things happening with this planet. There have been a number of things happen which I, in a way, knew were going to happen. I'll expand on that in future blogs. But for now, to steal a line from "A Knight's Tale," I'll spend time in silent contemplation trying to figure it out.
But the Myspace thing goes! 8v)
That tells me something. I got more action at 360! than I do at Myspace. So, I plan to dump my Myspace space. Why waste time working on something few people will see? I don't know how many folks read these ramblings of mine, but I do know a hell of a lot more people go to my 360! page than the other one. (Update - I have since given up totally on MySpace and even posted about it, and no longer use my Yahoo 360! page.)
I have a bunch more images to post in my photostream. I still have two dozen or so images to "work" for posting, so I think I will finish them, then post all my Canon images. Then it will be time for the Minolta Dimage 7i images and the Sony Mavica FD-91 images...maybe. I know they will look like crap next to 7i images and definitely the Canon Rebel shots, so I will have to either pull the greatest feat of image processing or not post the shots. Maybe I'll stick them in their own gallery. That way they won't be so easy to compare to the other shots.
Boy has it gotten cold here! The mercury has been hovering around 4 degrees since about 9 pm under clear skies. I'm just glad there isn't a meteor shower I want to watch tonight!
A friend of mine asked me about Global Warming the other night. I told her I didn't think of it as Global Warming, as much as I think of it as Climate Change. What's causing climate change? I'm not sure. It does appear humans have something to do with it, what with the destruction of the rain forests in South American and explosion in size of cities. And burning all the fuels you all burn moving around (yes...I said you all...I walk and ride my bicycle 99 percent of the time when I go somewhere) going places doesn't help. But I think there is more to it.
Every once in a while, I'll get this wave of dizziness flow over me. It will last less than a second most of the time, but it is something that doesn't just hit me. In most of the cases when it happens, I feel it on one side first when it begins, then another side when it ends. It's strange, but I think it is something to do with Mother Earth. Are we moving towards a reversal of the magnetic field of Earth? I don't know what it is, but I just get this feeling something is happening, or going to happen.
I am not one of those "The Earth will end tomorrow" guys...not at all. I just seem to have a sensitivity to things happening with this planet. There have been a number of things happen which I, in a way, knew were going to happen. I'll expand on that in future blogs. But for now, to steal a line from "A Knight's Tale," I'll spend time in silent contemplation trying to figure it out.
But the Myspace thing goes! 8v)
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