Exploring the wonders of creation through a 50mm lens...and other lenses too.

When I was a kid the only way to listen to new music for free was by tuning into a local radio station, like 102.7 KFRX or 106.3 The Blaze. It was a simpler time, and one I look back on with a great deal of fondness, though I suppose it’s probably on par with the rose-colored lenses through which most adults view their childhoods. (If I were to be shot back in time, Marty McFly-style, I would probably miss out on a lot of the modern conveniences we have today. But that’s not really how nostalgia works, is it?) Every few songs there would be a series of commercials, and for a good stretch of time one of those commercials was for something called a Hearts on Fire diamond from a local outfit called Sartor Hamann Jewelers. I don’t remember any specifics about the ad, or the diamond, or anything really other than the somewhat lispy host, possibly the owner or the founder of the business, who would go on about how sure you could go somewhere else to get your loved on a boring normal everyday diamond, but only Sartor Hamann had the Hearts on Fire diamond which was extra finely-cut, or ultra-rare, or exquisitely-set, or…something. Who knows. Not me, that’s for sure. But the commercial, and the odd-sounding name (Why would someone want to set someone’s heart ablaze?) stuck with me over the years, which I suppose is probably the mark of a good advertising campaign. Well done, Mr. Hamann. You win this round.

When I was at the OSU Botanic Garden recently with my family and some friends I came across this crystal heart, hanging by a rusty chain, not far from where a pair of kodama were keeping watch over the grounds. Though the heart was made of plastic and certainly not on fire, it brought me back to my high school days in the blink of an eye and all I could think about was that incessant radio ad. It’s interesting how things happen like that–one minute you are going about your business, but then you smell something, hear a noise, see a picture, or stumble across an object and you are instantly transported elsewhere with all manner of memories flooding back if even for just a fleeting moment.

I don’t want to read too much into this–it’s a plastic heart hanging from a tree, after all–but it was a fun little trip down memory lane and I’m glad I could capture the moment with my camera. I shot this at f/8 and was quite pleased with how everything turned out: the blurry background, the sharp vertices, and the colors of the garden flowers reflecting off the facets. And though this was a neat little photo to take I did not tarry long, as I wanted to put the camera down and get back to my wife, our kids, and our friends who were busy making memories of their own. And I wanted to be a part of them.

I’m not sure what my first Hayao Miyazaki movie was, but it just might have been Spirited Away, which I had the pleasure of watching in a movie theater near downtown Lincoln, Nebraska, back in college. Perhaps it was Princess Mononoke, which I rented (probably without paying) from the video department (which I managed) tucked away in the corner of the Russ’s Market I worked in to pay for rent, gas, and school. It undoubtedly was not Kiki’s Delivery Service, which I saw with my friend Gavin–probably in his house on 17th street either before or after playing a game of spades with Drew and Robert, but if not then certainly in our rental house on 51st Street where Gavin and I lived, along with Evan, Nick, Ross, Ben, Simon (the other one), Craig, and other friends who rotated in and out of for four years while we were all at UNL. My first Miyazaki film was definitely not My Neighbor Totoro, which I watched on the recommendation of Jennica, one of my students, when I taught high school in Andover, MN, on the north side of the Twin Cities. Nor was it Howl’s Moving Castle which I have seen but do not remember when, where, or really anything about the movie at all come to think of it.

But here’s the thing about Miyazaki movies: they leave an impression. They transport you to another place and time, and invite you to sit back and absorb the sheer wonder of the world you are invited to inhabit, if only for a little while, along with all its vibrant and unique characters. Creatures great and small, filled with heart and emotion, each with a story to tell or, as Michael W. Smith might say, a place in this world. (Note: please leave that link un-clicked. The song, and its accompanying video, are impossibly cheesy. But decades later that sandpaper-scratchy voice is still wandering around in my head, loath to vacate the space between my ears though long have I tried.)

Creatures such as the kodama you see here, whose presence is a clear and tangible indicator that the forest they inhabit is doing OK.

I saw these while wandering through the OSU Botanic Gardens with my family and some of our friends on a warm September afternoon, and was delighted to have my Nikon D750 and 105mm f/2.8 macro lens along for the occasion. Each of these little white figures is about an inch tall, and someone had placed them in a shallow pan hanging by three chains from the branch of a tree near the garden entrance. It was one of those little moments of serendipity that you encounter every so often that reminds you how clever and creative people can be–that someone thought to put these little creatures in the middle of the garden to keep watch, in a manner of speaking, over the area and reassure visitors that everything is going to be alright.

I experimented with a few different angles and focal lengths, as I almost always do when shooting close-ups like this, but didn’t want to move the figures at all—only myself and my camera. I tried a few shots with the shorter one in focus but found that I preferred this one, and with the light hitting it as you see here it really made for a fun composition. When both figured were well-lit it didn’t have quite the same effect, but here your eye is brought squarely to the first one and then to everything else in the frame which slowly reveals itself the more you look at the image.

This was a fun picture to take, a creative scene to stumble upon, and a reminder that I really need to show my kids some Miyazaki movies :)

One of my favorite lighting techniques, at least for artistic or experimental shots, is to light my subjects from behind. It’s not something that’s altogether intuitive for me, as it goes against much of what I learned when I first started getting into photography years ago, but I have tried to pay attention to how a little (or a lot) of backlighting can elevate and transform a photo and lift the mundane into something extraordinary. Case in point: this coleus plant, which I came across while wandering around the OSU Botanic Gardens with my family and some friends on a Saturday afternoon in early September. There are dozens of these brightly-colored plants all around the gardens and while they certainly are cool to look at, they somewhat ironically do not always make great photo subjects. (Or perhaps I’m just not looking closely, or thinking creatively, enough. A challenge, perhaps? Hmm…) That was not the case here.

This particular coleus was practically aflame in the afternoon sun, with the light bounding off the edges of these leaves to create a silhouette that gives the entire composition a feeling of life and energy–almost like a flame twisting and writing as it makes its way upwards. I had my D750 and 105mm f/2.8 macro lens, which is an outstanding combination for an afternoon among nature, and once I had this shot in mind the next thing to consider was the aperture: Too small and the depth of field would be too wide. Too large and the edges of the leaf would not be in focus. I also had to consider the angle from which I was shooting, and the background behind the plant as well. Finally, I didn’t want to spend too long taking this shot because I also wanted to hang out with family and friends :)

I took this at f/19 which, while a bit smaller than I would have preferred, did help me meet my primary goals for the shot. I think a smaller aperture would have been possible with a bit more patience and experimentation, but again, time was of the essence. I do like how the border in the foreground of the leaf is (mostly) sharp and in focus while the back of the leaf is blurry, which shows just how crazy the DOF tolerances are when shooting close up. And this wasn’t even that close! This leaf, or rather collection of leaves, measures about five inches from left to right–certainly too big to be considered a macro shot, but a great example of how versatile a macro lens can be nonetheless.

In some ways this shot is an upgraded version of the sunrise image from last week, and even though the scale of the photos is entirely different the basic principles are kind of the same: lighting a subject from behind in order to get a glowing silhouette. It goes to show, or at least shows me anyway, that at the end of the day photography is often about the same basic principles that it always has been. It’s light and physics, and everything else is just details :)

This photo is a couple of things. First, it’s a decent shot of an early morning September sunrise. Not outstanding, mind you, but not half bad if I do say so myself. And I don’t mean that to be self-deprecating, just to say that if I were to rank my Best Sunrise Shots that I have taken over the years I don’t think this would be on it. That being said, I do quite like a few things about it: the trees in the foreground, the rich colors of the sky as dark fades away, and the bright ball of light as it crests the clouds. It’s got a few layers that lead your eye from foreground to background, and I also like how simple everything is. It’s just a basic picture of the sun coming up without a lot going on in the frame to overcomplicate things. It’s not great, but it’s also not awful. It’s fine, and that’s not a bad thing at all.

The other thing about this shot is what it could have been if only I had been able to take it ten, even five, minutes earlier. That’s not a regret per se, but just a statement of fact: had I been able to grab my camera and get outside just a slight bit sooner this image would be entirely different and, most likely, a lot more interesting too. What I was really going for here wasn’t the sun necessarily, but the silhouette of the clouds on the horizon. The wavy fractal lines burning bright with the sun behind them created an amazing view that I noticed shortly after I dropped my son off at school, and I hightailed it back home to get my camera to go take a picture. But the sun is a fickle celestial body and usually just won’t stay put, especially at dawn and dusk.

By the time I made it back home it was already halfway above the clouds! I ran inside, grabbed my D500 and 70-200 f/2.8 lens, hopped back in the car, and drove as fast as I could to the pasture two blocks east of our house. The sun was in a hurry, and so was I–but alas, like C3PO attempting to save his friends from the trash compactor, I wasn’t fast enough. In the few precious minutes it took me to get out of my car, walk across the road, and put the camera to my eye the sun had already crested the clouds and was well on its way. Blerg.

No matter! I did get this shot and a fun story to tell, and of course a learning experience too. And the next time I think there might be a good sunrise, I’ll be ready…

For years one of my favorite types of photos to take at Milford Lake during our annual family vacation is that of a setting sun. Unlike most other shots that one can create during a weekend getaway out in nature, there’s a temporal quality to sunset shots like this–something that you just can’t capture save for a fleeting moment at the end of day and, perhaps, in the early morning if one is so inclined. Each year my sunset pics look a bit different, and while I wouldn’t go so far as to say that this year’s is better than the rest, it definitely shows evidence of refinement based on what I have done before.

I kept things real simple here in terms of gear: Nikon D750, 50mm lens (yes, the same lens that this blog is named after) and 10-stop ND filter. The camera itself was incidental; one could get almost the same shot with any cheap Nikon or Canon from Walmart. Full frame is not required to get a good sunset shot like this. The most important factors here were weather and composition: the former was basically just happenstance and entirely out of my control, but the latter involved understanding where to place the setting sun and the horizon within the frame and only comes with lots of experimentation, self-reflection, and looking at similar shots from other photographers. I have learned over the years that I enjoy sunsets the most when the sun itself is off-center, roughly along one of the vertical third lines, and the horizon roughly bisects the image. Too much foreground or too much sky tends to have a reductive effect on the photo as a whole, and my favorite sunset shots generally end up with more or less equal parts foreground and background.

There’s also two other fun elements in this shot that I just enjoy capturing: a silky-smooth lake surface and the brilliant starburst emanating from the setting sun. The former requires a long exposure (hence the 10-stop ND filter) and the latter requires a small aperture and good timing. If the sun is too high or too low you won’t get the points of light, and neither will they appear if your aperture is too wide which is why mobile phones can’t get shots like this. They are stuck at a fixed aperture usually between f/1.8 and f/2.2.

The result is a sunset shot that I am proud of, and one that does a good job of showing the natural beauty of Milford Lake—and hopefully helps show why I enjoy going there so much with my family each year.