Hot Exhibit

A few years ago a fellow photog asked me if I had been to the “Container Show”.  I told him that over the years I had attended a few trade shows, but never one dealing with packaging, adding that I had also gone a few times to the Container Store (which is a store where you buy boxes of nothing).  He looked at me quizzically then said, “No, I’m talking about the photography container show called Photoville.”  I asked him what a photo show has to do with containers.  His told me that the exhibit was held in giant shipping containers…the ones that carry cargo; the very same ones you see on those enormous ships in all the major ports.  Now why anyone would want to exhibit their images in a big stuffy metal box was beyond me, but I asked him what port I had to visit to see the show.  I soon learned that Photoville is held in New York City and that it consists of several shipping containers all housing photo exhibitions mounted on the interior walls of the containers.  What a novel idea!  It was September at the time and the show was already in progress so my wife and I picked a date to go.  I eagerly awaited the day we were to head into the city to catch a glimpse of my first container show.

The day we had picked arrived and as I readied my camera and stuffed our water bottles into our bags, I stepped out of our house to do a last minute weather check.  As I opened the door, I was greeted by a blast of hot, I mean really hot, September air.  It was definitely end-of-summer shorts and tee shirt weather.  By the time we arrived in New York, the heat had intensified.  We saw that each container had a number and that the program we were given told us what exhibit we’d find in each of the containers.  Some showed portraits, others landscapes, and a few had the works of students who were studying photography in school.  As I said, it was blistering hot as we entered the first container.  But not nearly as hot as it was inside!  I tried my best to spend a little time looking at each piece between gulps of water from my bottle which, by now, was growing warmer by the minute.  As you know, warm water does not quench one’s thirst.  Meanwhile, my wife opted to remain outside the container, where at ninety degrees it was actually cooler than the one hundred plus temperature inside the “photo oven.”  After attempting to work my way through a couple more of the photo tombs, I joined my wife and we set out in search of a solution, the most obvious of which was to get back in our car and head home.  We spotted a large tent with people who were seated and watching some sort of lecture.  We found a couple of seats and noticed that the tent was being cooled to some extent by three large fans which were effective in circulating the stifling air.  The speaker was an Adobe rep who was demonstrating the power of the new Lightroom Mobile software.  A few audience members were actually awake while others appeared to be either sleeping or had passed out from the heat and were awaiting the arrival of EMS vehicles bringing medical help.  

I will spare you any further details.  That was our last Container Show experience.  However, several times since we have gone shopping in the Container Store near our home.  It’s fully air conditioned and it’s a real pleasure picking out containers which we lovingly pay for steeped in the knowledge that we have just purchased an item which contains nothing!

Clickity Clack

Do you remember some of the sounds we used to hear so often that we took them for granted? Some were from our childhood; others from more recent times. Let’s close our eyes and recall a few…

I remember the sound of chalk when it inadvertently screeched across the slate blackboard in my third grade classroom (a sound not heard on today’s whiteboards.) I fondly remember the corrosive crackling as the needle hit the scratch on a 33 rpm. Sinatra recording of “Come Fly With Me”. There was no avoiding the well-timed (and embarrassing) flourish of sound coming from the crotch of my corduroy pants as the legs rubbed together with my every stride. How I miss the drone of blades cutting through the air as a propeller-driven airplane flew over my house. And whatever happened to the methodically boring tock, tock, tock (minus the tick) of a wood and metal metronome sitting on the piano as we practiced scales? (a sound now relegated to an app on our smart phones). I’ll always recall fondly the fake, though convincing sound, of an engine, coming from the Queen of Hearts playing card attached by a clothespin to the front wheel of my Schwinn bike. Speaking of engines, in the not too distant future the sound of car engines will be replaced by the harmonious hum of an electric engine powering our vehicles down the road.

There are some sounds I miss. Others…not so much. One in this category is the disruptive clickity clack heard during televised news conferences. All of us photogs recognize this annoying noise. It’s the cacophony produced by the good ole’ mirror slap from our DSLR’s. The “mirrorless revolution” which was predicted to take the photo industry by storm didn’t. Everyone who takes pictures, whether for fun or professionally, did not race out and immediately sell or trade in their Nikon or Canon for a slick new mirrorless Sony. However, what does seem to be happening now is a slow turnover to these mirrorless models. Nowadays, if you listen carefully to a televised conference you can actually hear what the speakers are saying (which is not always a good thing!) Their words are no longer totally muffled by the roar of the Canons (wasn’t that a creative use of words?). The revolution has been slow to evolve, but it appears that the younger photographers are purchasing the mirrorless models, relegating the old DSLR’s to gather dust in an attic or on the shelves of the “Used” section in camera stores. I suspect that in years to come, they’ll be found en mass in the midst of other relics on antique store shelves right next to the Kodak Brownie’s and the 35mm film cameras.

I really don’t miss the mirror slap. But if, one day, I’m feeling nostalgic about long lost sounds, I can always get out my old Nikon and press the shutter button four or five hundred times just to hear that comforting sound. Better yet, I’ll wait till Sunday night, turn on Sixty Minutes and watch the show’s intro. What fun, just sitting back and listening to tick, tick, tick, tick…

I Just Take Pictures

During the Vietnam War I served as a US Air Force photojournalist. My job was to document the wide range of activities related to the war. My assignments were not, as you might imagine, always exciting and glamorous. Explosions, destruction and other war-related happenings often resulted in interesting and sometimes devastating images. However there were other photos I produced which were necessary to the mission, yet proved to be rather mundane and even boring. This was the case one evening…

After a really busy day, I crawled into my bunk savoring the the aroma of jet fuel gently wafting through the barracks. To a civilian it might have been an assault to their senses, resembling what it smells like when you first turn on a gas powered leaf blower. However to me and my fellow airmen it was the sweet smell of Air Force essential oils, sure to guarantee a good night’s sleep.

At about 2:00am, the black desk phone near my bed startled me with what I had hoped was a misdialed number. However, upon hearing the voice on the other end, I knew immediately that this was no mistake. “Berger, are you the “on-call photographer tonight?” “Yes, sir, I am.” “This is Sergeant Brown from the Air Police. I need you to come out and take some pictures of an airplane parked near the flight line.” “Is it an emergency?” I asked. My mind went racing to thoughts of one of my fellow airmen tangled up in the engine of a cargo plane. “No, no emergency.” “Then why must I get the shots now, at two in the morning?” I asked. “Well, it’s just that we have to document that the problem was discovered on this shift and that we immediately had photos taken.” Loving bureaucracy as I always have, I dragged my tired rear end out of bed, put on my uniform, grabbed my big gray hard-sided camera case and opened the latched lid to make sure it was loaded with my ungainly Speed Graphic camera, the gigantic flash, M5 flashbulbs, and a full supply of metal film holders loaded with 4×5 inch black and white film. I picked it up, and feeling the weight of the case, I instinctively knew I had all the supplies I needed. I trudged over to the location thinking of how much I missed my warm bed back in the barracks. There was little activity at this moment out on the flight line, so I felt grateful that at least I didn’t have to deal with the deafening sound of aircraft revving their engines prior to take off. This was a blessing since my camera had no meter, autofocus, or anything else that nowadays we find to be absolute necessities and I needed to concentrate on getting the settings right.

As I approached the aircraft, I was met by Sgt. Brown. He told me that I had to photograph a damaged bolt on the top of one of the wings. Wanna know how high it is up on the top of a giant military cargo plane? And how slippery it can get if there’s moisture on the wing? And how hard it is to see a damaged bolt in the dark at 2am? Anyway, after riding up in the cherry picker, and finding a safe place up there for me and my gear, I manually calculated the correct flash exposure in my foggy after hours brain. After doing several ballet moves I found the right position and got the shots…all angles, medium closeups, macro shots etc. Once back on the ground I turned to the sergeant who was now accompanied by a flight line mechanic. He told me the good news…I didn’t have to go back to the lab to develop the film and make prints; that could wait till tomorrow. At this point the airman mechanic asked us if he could now replace the damaged bolt. The sergeant gave him the okay. The airman then turned to me and said, “So this is your job in the Air Force? You just take pictures?” No longer half asleep, I replied, “So this is all you do…just fix airplanes?”

So what’s the point? All of you who pursue photography, spend hours traveling to locations, composing, focusing, shooting, editing, printing etc. know that this passion of ours requires work…both manual and mental. Some earn a living at it while for others it’s simply a labor of love. Whenever you’re out there shooting, whether on top of an airplane or in front of your dining room window always remember that there is real value in what you do. Don’t ever be dissuaded by someone who says, “So this is all you do… take pictures?”

Are You Comfortable?

Some things are just plain uncomfortable. Like when you’re in the window seat on the airplane, the two passengers next to you are both fast asleep, and you really have to go. How about when the dentist says, “Open a little wider” and your mouth is already open the size of the far end of the Grand Canyon? What about the woman who notices that her colleague seems a little chunky around the middle lately so she congratulates her on being pregnant and is told, “Oh, I’m not pregnant, what made you think I am?” U-N-C-O-M-F-O-R-T-A-B-L-E.

Photography has been described as fun, creative, challenging, enlightening and many other things, but, unlike the situations I’ve mentioned, I had never heard it called “uncomfortable.” That is until one day while shopping in a camera store. During a discussion about what equipment is the easiest to use and how some is more cumbersome than others, the salesperson casually remarked, “Well, you have to find what works best for you. After all, photography is uncomfortable.” That remark got me to thinking…

An old pair of jeans, slippers, or that raggedy worn-out sweatshirt with the faded school logo; now that’s comfortable. Your beat up Lazy Boy recliner with the cracked leather on the front part of the seat…that’s comfortable. However, climbing uphill while schlepping a camera bag loaded with two camera bodies, four lenses, and a ham and Swiss sandwich while also toting a tripod and a bottle of Poland Springs water, now that’s downright uncomfortable! Bending down into some twisted yoga-like position so you can capture that ground-hugging flower at just the right angle only to have to keep shifting position as the wind keeps blowing the damn thing from left to right, then front to back while the petals go in and out of focus…uncomfortable to say the least. Forcing your aging knees to lower you to the level of your grandkid so you can take a shot of his face and not the top of his head (the way most non-photographers do) then trying to stand back up…clearly u-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e. And let’s not forget the famous shot all travelers shoot of their favorite giant redwood tree. You know, the one looking straight up so the branches recede toward the clouds giving us that over-photographed railroad track perspective. Chiropractors love that shot, but your neck doesn’t. Rather than seeking medical help, we rush home to smear on the Ben-Gay resulting in a searing, burning sensation accompanied by a smell which leaves us unable to enter a room with other human beings. All of this as a result of our beloved hobby, photography.

Okay, so maybe photography is uncomfortable. So what’s the solution? Should we abandon our passion and sit on the couch binge-watching episodes of Seinfeld on Netflix? I don’t think so. I, for one, will continue seeking to produce earth-shattering, prize winning, cover of National Geographic type images while straining my back, fighting a crick in my neck and enduring painful knee joints. I vow to continue to pursue this photo stuff, this beloved, wonderful hobby however uncomfortable it may be.

As for now, I have to stop typing. I’m getting modern day writer’s cramp, aka Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. Typing is uncomfortable.

Guilt Free Zooming!

Okay, I’ll admit it…I’m on a Zoom kick.  And to make matters worse, I’m once again writing about a timely and current topic which I dealt with in my last article.  As I mentioned in that piece, I rarely write about anything current since some of the venues I write for stockpile the articles and release them months or even years, after I’ve submitted them to these publishers. So if something’s too timely and they hang on to it for a while, by the time you read it, it’s old news.  Anyway, I’m taking a gamble so here’s my continued take on a current phenomena.

Ever start reading a book and realize after a while that you’re not really enjoying the book, or even worse…you’re starting to really hate the damn thing?  While reading you start to think about chocolate chip cookies or how you’d rather finish up the Reader’s Digest article you started on how an aardvark saved some guy from drowning in the Caspian Sea.  Well that’s how it is with me and some Zoom meetings.  This whole Zoom thing attacked us like a falling meteorite and now I kinda wish it would go back to where it came from.  Now I must admit that I have had some nice experiences with Zoom birthday parties, camera club meetings etc.  HOWEVER…there have been some where I was so sorry I clicked the link and joined.  Here are just a few of the reasons that after a while, that “Leave Meeting” button becomes so tempting.  First, I see people in those little cutsie boxes off to the side that I really would choose not to spend any time with; not now, not tomorrow, not ever.  Second, I’m getting tired of hearing the presenter saying, “Just hold on a second folks, I can’t seem to be able to share my screen…Bill, can you see my screen?  Can they?  Oh, never mind, there it is.”  Apparently, this is today’s version of “Houston, we have a problem.” Third, the topic is not exactly as advertised.  I couldn’t wait till Thursday to watch the Zoom webinar on how to photograph birds.  Instead, I’m hearing about the origin of the name “Yellow Bellied Sapsucker.”  I don’t care if his name is Alfred E. Neuman, I just want to know how to get his eye tack sharp!  The list goes on and on.

My biggest issue with these virtual fun fests is that I now deal with, yes…you guessed it…Zoom Guilt.  Like the book I can’t put down, I feel compelled to stay on, staring at the  horror on my screen rather than simply clicking on “Leave Meeting”.  I worry that other attendees will say, “Where’s Rick?  He was with us before.”  Maybe they’ll think I just couldn’t hold it in anymore and made a mad dash to the potty or, even worse…He left because his Depends needed to be changed.  Will they consider me a deserter?  Will this result in a dishonorable discharge?  How will I face them if we ever have a real meeting again (wishful thinking)?  Yes, Zoom Guilt is real.  My therapist said so.  She said that I must dig deep within myself to find the true meaning of why I’m so afraid to duck out of a meeting.  Perhaps, it’s connected with my guilt about cutting English class, or missing the “mandatory” meeting at work which I skipped so I could go to the beach.

The bottom line here is that we must all be on guard.  We must realize that at any time during a virtual meeting, any of us is subject to experiencing the pangs of Zoom Guilt.  I’ve seen several TV ads selling various products which claim they’ll help alleviate this problem (Zoomvil, Zoom Bismol) as well as several support groups out there such as Zoom Watchers.

So stay alert.  These are trying times and you must adjust.  Finally, remember, “Only you can prevent Zoom Guilt”.

Thank You.  This has been a public service message.

Zoomba

I usually try to write articles that are kind of “timeless”.  By this I mean ones that do not echo current events or the particular times in which we now live.  I do this because certain places which publish these articles don’t release them for several months, or even years.  But this time I’ve chosen a current topic to write about, so if you happen to read this some time in the future, it may no longer be relevant, but that’s okay.  Let it be a reminder of the times we once experienced and how today’s events may have helped changed the camera club experience in the future.

Zoom in, zoom out!  Whether we shoot stills or videos, at some point we all try to get in closer or back up to include more, or less, in the frame.  For you zoom lens aficionados, this means a simple rotation of a ring on your lens.  For you prime lens users (whom I call “Primates”) this means setting your feet in motion and moving forward or backward.  However, today, as a result of the Coronavirus, zooming has taken on a new meaning.  It’s the new way we attend camera club meetings. It goes like this…

“Hey Bob, what’s up?”  “Hi Marge, are you back from Florida yet?  I can’t tell by looking at your background.”  “Am I muted?  Can anyone hear me?”  “We see your name, but not your face.  Turn on your video.”  “How do you do that?”  And the beat goes on, and on and on…until finally we hear, “Okay, I’m gonna mute everybody and then we’ll begin the meeting.”

So, are Zoom meetings a bad thing?  Here’s are some pros and cons:

Some say they’re great because they don’t have to get up from their couch to attend.  Others say they miss the socialization that in person meetings offer. I find there’s actually more socialization on Zoom because at the “real” meetings, everyone gravitates to their same four friends and never interacts with anyone else.  On Zoom I see people talking to others that they never sit with at the meetings and rarely talk to.  Also, on Zoom, I can finally associate faces with names.  (“Oh, that’s who Bernie Flotz is!”)

I find the competition images look much better on Zoom than on the screen at the live meetings.  They look more like they do on my computer, mainly because there are no variables such as the quality of the club’s projector, the laptop the judge is looking at etc. Then there’s the convenience of not missing a meeting in the middle of a February blizzard.  Lastly, I love being able to make some rude comment (as loud as I want) about a judge’s remarks about an image. But I alway check first to make sure I’m muted!

I could go on and on.  I’m certainly not advocating the abolishment of live meetings.  There may be, however, some place in the future for Zoom meetings to become a part of camera club activities.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go down to my basement home gym, put on some Salsa music, and do a self-motivated Zumba routine.  After all, I must maintain my cardio fitness so I’ll be physically able to attend  the next Zoom meeting.

Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag

When we turned on the radio in 1965, we often heard James Brown sing the Grammy winning rhythm and blues hit, “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag.”   Today, this has a whole new meaning to me.  First of all, my grandkids call me Papa.  Secondly, I’m a photo equipment bagaholic.  At present count I have approximately fifteen camera bags.  Now that’s ridiculous and I know it.  After all, how many cameras do I use and how many lenses can I bring with me when I go out shooting?  I ask myself this question every time I look in my closet at my bag collection.

Of my many camera bags, one I look at today and just shake my head is a ridiculous (by today’s standards) hard case covered with some black plastic leatherette concoction.  I shlepped this thing throughout a two-week trip to Europe in 1974.  It was uncomfortable and heavier than the camera and lenses it carried.  It did, however, hold every little souvenir I bought and a sandwich, all jammed in there next to the rolls of film.  Throughout the years I have purchased soft canvas bags, rock-hard canvas bags, and, of course, several made of what they call ballistic nylon. Bags like this are designed to protect your camera from a nuclear war or the upcoming Zombie apocalypse.

I have at least one bag made to carry those giant lenses…the ones that look like a bazooka.  However, I don’t photograph insects flying at Mach I on the far side of a three mile wide lake, so I don’t own any of those lenses.  So why did I buy that bag?  Just in case, I guess.  I also have several mini-cases.  Some are just big enough to haul around a Kodak Instamatic and one roll of film.  I don’t use my Instamatic anymore, nor do I shoot film.  But I just can’t part with these bags.  I have sling bags which I never use because they always seem to slip off my shoulder and sling themselves down into my crotch…not conducive to good shooting habits.  I also have one backpack bag which I use for storage.  I love all the little cubbyholes you can build with those moveable dividers.  When I first got it it took an eternity of moving them around so I could make just the right size cubby for each of my lenses. It has never left its comfy spot on a shelf in my closet. It holds a lot of lenses so that’s what I use it for; storage.  I have never put it on as a backpack.  I like to shoot spontaneously; often street shots.  How can I get to a lens quickly if it’s buried in a bag between my shoulder blades?  Maybe some day I will put it on… to correct my posture. Several years ago I fell prey to the craze of “messenger bags”.  I bought a few of these.  They’re much like the saddle bags that John Wayne slung over his horse’s back.  When I need to grab my camera from one of these, by the time I pull the flap over, I’ve missed the shot.  Then they started making these with a zipper on the top so you can reach through the flap to get at your camera.  So why don’t they just leave off the flap and simply have a zipper in the top of the bag?  Another problem is that at the ends of the zipper there’s barely enough room to get your hand in so you can grab the camera!

My latest acquisition is a bag which has the zipper and cleverly has one end which is wider so I actually can get my hand in.  Now if they’d only make one which is wide at both ends.  Then I could get to my camera and the extra lens that I have at the other end of the bag.  The bag I carry to the gym has this arrangement and I’ve been carrying that bag for almost ten years!  Hello…camera bag manufacturers…take a look at my gym bag for an innovative new design idea.

I guess I’ll be forever in search of the perfect camera bag.  Although I may be closer to the end of my search.  I’ve seen some ammunition bags in Army Navy stores (or whatever they call them now) that look like pretty good candidates.  I recently took a close look at my wife’s bag; another possibility!  I’m not ready to give up my search, but in the meanwhile, I think I’ll pen a song called ”Papa’s Got A Brand New Camera Bag”, a Grammy winner if I do say so myself!