The interwebs are alive with praise for the new Olympus camera. The one that looks like a 1980s slr. (Check out TOP and VSL for example.)
Why is this? It seems to be the first small sensor camera that works like an slr. And it seems to have lenses people like. At last they have a smaller camera that does what a dslr does.
To a point, Lord Copper. There is no doubt that sensor technology now lets small sensors do almost everything that large sensors do, and the other technology is making functionality catch up with what dslrs can do in the focusing and other areas. I, too, read the specs, looked at the design and suffered temptation. It does tick most of the right boxes. But I have to wonder if these folks would be quite so gushing about the Olympus if another manufacturer launched a new camera today that was a similar size, handled exactly like an slr, but had a full frame sensor?
After all, that is really what these people (and I) want. The laws of physics can't be beat, and small sensor simply cannot do some of the things that a larger one can. It can be sharp, it can have low noise at high ISO, it can have a wonderful tonal range and accurate colour matching. But it's still a small sensor. It's why, for all the benefits of the X10, I've gone back to a full frame dslr when I know I want to make pictures.
Why do I like full frame cameras despite their bulk and weight? Because they make photos that look the most like ones made on 35mm film. They suit my way of looking and seeing. Cameras can be as superbly technical as they want, but if they don't let you look and see in your way they are a hindrance. I know I've said this before, but that's what the internet does to you. It keeps on ramming it's collective opinion down your throat. And like so many collective opinions it is often wrong headed and needs to be constantly challenged. Even if nobody ever reads this stuff!
Tuesday, 15 May 2012
Friday, 11 May 2012
Tuesday, 8 May 2012
Then and now
I think I have finally revisited all the locations I am going to for the 'then and now' series. Rather than print them all out straight away I've thrown them together in a Blurb book. It's a small format book, so it won't be great for looking at the individual pictures, but it will give me an idea if the arrangement and order works, and a chance to do another edit. It was a lot less hassle than doing over 100 prints. It will also give me a chance to show the pictures to other people to make sure I have got the right locations!
If I like it as a book I can always do a bigger, fancier, more expensive, version for myself rather than make the prints. It'll probably be as cheap as making and sorting out some means of collating them all too.
If I like it as a book I can always do a bigger, fancier, more expensive, version for myself rather than make the prints. It'll probably be as cheap as making and sorting out some means of collating them all too.
Friday, 4 May 2012
Nowt much
Yesterday I read a post on The VSL.Last night I dreamed I was using a Leica.
Today I used (briefly) the X10 as if it was a Leica - by looking through the viewfinder, bought a camera body for £25, and some shelves to put my photography books on.
What an exciting life.
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
Creativity, obsession and perfection
I've had time to surf the web lately and found a link to this video of a lecture given by John Cleese about creativity. It seems to take a long time to say something that I thought was self evident - that creativity (making art) is a form of play. I guess he had to make his lecture look like value for money to those paying him and spin it out with a few jokes and academic quotes to back him up. The only thing I learned from that is that I don't 'do' the 'closed mode'! I enjoy the play part, the finding new ways of seeing things, but the part that involves tying the results up into a finished article bores me rigid. Quite the opposite of those Cleese is talking to. It's why my revisitations will almost certainly come to nought. The idea is interesting, taking the pictures is interesting, but doing something with them is a job I'd rather leave to a trained monkey so I can go do something new.
Another video I found is an interview with Martin Parr. He has a point about needing to be obsessed, but it's not the whole story. if one is too obsessed then it becomes a form of tunnel vision. That is not a good thing if you are trying to be creative. There need to be influences from outside the obsession to provoke new ways of thinking and seeing. That's what the play aspect is all about. The inspiration doesn't need to come from the focus of your attention.
I suspect that an obsessive like Parr finds the 'closed mode' of collating his obsessively taken photographs just as thrilling as taking the photographs in the first place. Speaking as someone who has always considered laziness to be a virtue I found his inference that laziness is a bad thing deeply offensive!
While an obsession with the process and the subject can be a good thing, obsession with achieving perfection is certain to lead to blind alleys. Yet for many amateur, and some not so amateur, photographers obsession with perfection seems to be their sole aim. This can manifest itself in making technically perfect exposures, using the sharpest lenses and sensors (or film) that can resolve the finest detail. It could be the making of the perfect print, exposed to a T and with a subtle tonal range and bags of intricate detail. It could even be the perfect composition, with not one element out of place.
This can all too easily lead to perfectly dull pictures.
Photography has always had an element of chance in its nature. Outside of the studio there will always be something which is out of the control of the photographer. Rather than try to deny this it should be embraced. When something unexpected happens it can 'spoil' a picture, but it can sometimes 'make' it. The line between the two outcomes is a fine and difficult to define one.
The picture above follows a well trod path as far as composition goes. When I first looked at it on the computer I was miffed by the chopped off foot disappearing behind the cash sign. Later I came to see this 'fault' as a strength. It adds a small touch of tension, a niggle, that brings a little life to the picture. Possibly not the best example, but a recent one.
There are some cultures that believe only God can make something perfect, and so deliberately incorporate flaws into their art and design. A fine example to follow for someone too lazy to strive for perfection like me!
Another video I found is an interview with Martin Parr. He has a point about needing to be obsessed, but it's not the whole story. if one is too obsessed then it becomes a form of tunnel vision. That is not a good thing if you are trying to be creative. There need to be influences from outside the obsession to provoke new ways of thinking and seeing. That's what the play aspect is all about. The inspiration doesn't need to come from the focus of your attention.
I suspect that an obsessive like Parr finds the 'closed mode' of collating his obsessively taken photographs just as thrilling as taking the photographs in the first place. Speaking as someone who has always considered laziness to be a virtue I found his inference that laziness is a bad thing deeply offensive!
While an obsession with the process and the subject can be a good thing, obsession with achieving perfection is certain to lead to blind alleys. Yet for many amateur, and some not so amateur, photographers obsession with perfection seems to be their sole aim. This can manifest itself in making technically perfect exposures, using the sharpest lenses and sensors (or film) that can resolve the finest detail. It could be the making of the perfect print, exposed to a T and with a subtle tonal range and bags of intricate detail. It could even be the perfect composition, with not one element out of place.
This can all too easily lead to perfectly dull pictures.
Photography has always had an element of chance in its nature. Outside of the studio there will always be something which is out of the control of the photographer. Rather than try to deny this it should be embraced. When something unexpected happens it can 'spoil' a picture, but it can sometimes 'make' it. The line between the two outcomes is a fine and difficult to define one.
The picture above follows a well trod path as far as composition goes. When I first looked at it on the computer I was miffed by the chopped off foot disappearing behind the cash sign. Later I came to see this 'fault' as a strength. It adds a small touch of tension, a niggle, that brings a little life to the picture. Possibly not the best example, but a recent one.
There are some cultures that believe only God can make something perfect, and so deliberately incorporate flaws into their art and design. A fine example to follow for someone too lazy to strive for perfection like me!
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