Be Steady

The title of the first chapter of “100 Ways To Take Better Photographs” was titled “Taking Sharper Photographs”. It briefly and informative talked about taking photos with a tripod (ideally), at the right shutter speed (which basically means nothing to me) and take better shots by being steady.

I’m probably attempting to draw nectar from a rock here when I make this transition but it did get me thinking about life. The pace of life has been accelerated and deemed normal but it isn’t actually our original “setting” at all. The argument is that modern life is faster because of technology. That may be true but as with all tools, technology’s woes and wonders actually arise from the weilder. And evidence suggests we have welded this tool wantonly.

For the most part I have traded the fast life for a slower pace that allows me to breath and savour moments and heighten my experiences beyond and a microwave mentality of having it all and having it now. It isn’t to say that I do not desire a little more wealth, I do but not at the expense of my soul. That isn’t for sale.

The idea of being “steady” is incredibly attractive to me, especially as a father. Being reliable, solid and present, that’s actually the real currency of manhood. Everything else is elaborate window dressing. When you’re younger you think it’s about being cool, which will hopefully attract a mate (not to sound like David Attenborough). However, as maturity sets and solidifies it becomes about the internal fibre of a man’s integrity as opposed to his outer casing, his silver tongue, his worldly goods and credentials.

How did I go from talking about pictures to what it is to be a good man? Well, every young male has some sort of picture of what they would like to be or want to be. I held my phone, turned on the camera and attempted to focus on the book’s page. It was trickier with each thundering heartbeat.

I mulled over chapter one, one more time simultaneously thinking about some of my work choices and whether I had pursued my passion with tenacious clarity. Writing was my passion and still is. My first love that led me to my last love. I snapped the book shut, downed a can of coke and went back to work, digesting the first rule of this book ; be steady.

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Outside The Box

The sky finally cracked open. It’s been raining on and off for about nine hours and it’s showing signs of only getting stronger. Not the best weather for a glorious photo. In an empty charity shop with fifteen minutes to go I mull over the tenets of good photography and while I have an idea, I don’t have concrete points of reference to refer to. Scouring my head for something that isn’t really there is tiresome. I figured it was time to think outside the box.

It’s a good thing I’m at work, it’s the one place that has more helpful books than our local library or our house. If I’m going to learn about A-class photography, this will be the place that has a book on it.

I unashamedly acknowledge that I’m a predictable creature of habit. Most people would just have consulted a friend for basic pointers. I prefer consulting books. In my defence I do actually know a chap who happens to be an exceptional photographer. Unfortunately he’s just as fascinated by my wife’s picturesque architecture as I am so he was an automatic no.

I would ask my wife but that defeats the purpose of this photographic crusade. Her best friend Betty used to work down the road but has moved to Wales. Betty, and her work colleague Matt, had helped me price some cameras that had been donated to the store, with great aplomb.

I planned to ask Matt for advice in person over a drink (which I would buy him) because after two years of living here it had occurred to me that I hadn’t bothered to make any friends outside of work. Us creatures of habit get comfortable with a reliable cycle of predictable events. It’s why I work so well with timetables; there’s barely any room for error. Unfortunately it’s also easy to become stale, devoid of an adventurous spirit and overall less spontaneous.

I attempt to close up for the day, bang on 5pm but a lady, despite my disgruntled countenance, has forced her way into the shop as if letting herself into her own house and proceeds to browse. I take a deep breath, carry the sign in from the rain and lock the door behind me for fear of other petulant intruders avoiding the downpour. While she shops I take things upstairs and mull over what sort of text book might serve me best.

The lady was prompt and cheerful and left about five minutes later having spent a good amount of money. I was happy I hadn’t insisted she leave or I would have missed a sale. Sometimes not sticking so closely to the timetable pays off. Like the shopper I needed a book that was straight to the point. Poignant, purposeful and acute.

Having cashed up I was ready to go home, so I ventured to the book corner in hopes of finding something to fulfill this specific need. I often joked that our charity shop was secretly a genie; granting wishes of customers and staff alike from overeheard mumblings and half prayers. True to form I found exactly what I needed.

The book was titled “100 Ways To Take Better Photographs” by Michael Busselle. Honestly I didn’t need one hundred ways. Five would have been perfectly adequate but now was not the time to be snarky. I had found the perfect book! Now all I needed to do was read and practice!

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The Je Ne Sais Quoi Test

So how will this one picture a day scheme actually work? The general gist is to throw paint at a wall and hope a masterpiece appears from the wreckage of effort. I joke, partly. I’m taking something of a more mathematical approach to this, the law of averages one might say. I’m hoping if I take an average of ten well shot pictures then at least one of them will pass the Je Ne Sais Quoi Test.

In french Je ne sais quoi translates to “I do not know what”, at least on google translate anyway. My french friends may disagree. Some pictures just have that special something, it’s hard to explain, or even identify at times but they perfectly capture an essence and take on a life of their own. A picture is worth a thousand words so the saying goes and some pictures say what you hope they would and so much more. The Cambridge dictionary describes je ne sais quoi as ; a pleasing quality that cannot be exactly named or described. The hope is to capture moments from this beautiful time that defy description, after all that is the miracle of the photograph.

My wife is currently feeding our son whilst scrolling on her phone, she’s a natural multitasker and a natural mother, its hard to imagine it is her first time…at times. I remember meeting her for the first time at a train station and looking in to her eyes. She would humbly deny it of course but she passes the Je ne sais quoi test. She is both beautiful and talented and blisteringly intelligent but there is a special something that I cannot quite place. Whatever it may be, God bathed her in it.

I find this phenomenon with less majestic things than my wife. Certain songs just have a special something that makes them catchy, repeat-worthy, or my personal favourite, nostalgic. Bon Iver’s re:stacks has a magic about it that submerges me into feelings of nostalgic warm memories I cannot quite place, yet always happy to visit whenever I listen. That is the aim of these pictures, to be transported to those moments, and the feelings we felt then and be able to feel them anew as though they are barely a day old. Obviously it’s a tall order but I’m remembering to have fun. I get the distinct impression future me will be very happy I took such an approach.

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Picture Perfect

Laying next to our four month old watching him sleep peacefully, I thought, “my wife would take a brilliant picture of us right now!”. That wasn’t true at all, it being pitch black in the room and all, save for an over-eager street lamp awkwardly positioned outside our window. Second, I was somewhat skeptical about how well night-mode actually works on modern phones.

Gripes aside, my wife could be a professional photographer, she’s that good. she knows how to capture a moment, those wonderful seconds that are like distilled liquid diamond drops, invaluable. It’s something of an art and she is an artist. In contrast, I actively avoid taking pictures, I think the hanging around, posing to fit into a frame irritates me : which makes no sense of course because that for the most part is how you get a picture taken. I get restless and want to get on with the actual act of making memories as opposed to calcifying them on paper or a digital white screen.

I guess that also explains why I hate passport picture taking. It’s bad enough you can’t even look happy in any of the snaps but you have to fit your weird shaped head into an equally weird shaped oval, before being asked to sit still, while holding an impossibly uncomfortable position. It’s utterly exhausting.

My wife complained that I hadn’t taken very good pictures of her in comparison to the masterpieces she had taken. She pointed out the way I’d cut off a foot here, and not quite centred the shot there and completely botched that one. I have a much better phone than a year ago and while it has improved my photographic endeavours and not left them completely to my more competent wife, I have still found myself getting frustrated at the complaint that she simply doesn’t have enough photos with our infant son, who is looking more and more like a toddler each day.

I explained that helping her survive brutal breast feeding woes, sleep deprivation, washing baby bottles, changing nappies and keeping baby and mum well fed was a surprisingly physical and mentally exhausting challenge. The last thing that comes to mind is to get the perfect shot of what is often untempered chaos. And yet she always seemed to… a diamond in the midst of all the chaos. I agreed. There was always time, there has to be, because one day we won’t have the time because he’ll be all grown up.

It made me realise I hadn’t been as present as perhaps I had always prided myself on being. Perhaps that was the problem , pride. A presumption that he’ll be small for a little while longer and wasn’t I doing enough without setting up a mini photo shoot everytime a moment seemingly presented itself. Perhaps some of our son’s best moments were happening now and I was a little too in my head about the functioning day-to-day to notice him in all his budding glory…perhaps.

And so this was how I came up with the idea that night, looking at our infant son, who was currently wearing a 6-9 month baby grow and making it look good. He was already so big. What if I took one good picture a day? What if I took the perfect shot each day for a year, Just mother and child? I wouldn’t have to worry about not being in them because she already took so many photos of us anyway. At the bare minimum we would have 365 perfect pictures. Or better still, present. They would be present pictures. As present as I was with him, waiting for his mother, to come to bed.

A combination of several attempts.

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