A Pretty Good Little Lens.

I think we all understand the advantages of larger camera imagers. Really we do. On SLRs, “full frame” imagers the size of 35mm film (FX imagers in Nikon speak) can provide cleaner output particularly at high ISO settings.  They allow wide angle, short focal length lenses to have their full field of view. They allow us the shallow depth of field many photographers, particularly those shooting portraits, tend to desire.

Much is also written about the subjective quality of images produced by larger chips.

For landscape photographers, shooting DSLRs, these characteristics are less compelling.  Most of the time, we are looking for lenses with a larger depth of field so that more of the scenery we are shooting is in focus. The ability to go wide is not unappreciated, but there are many “DX” lenses that offer a wide field of view.

The burden of full-frame imagers includes larger, heavier lenses which need to be toted around in order to obtain the full measure of quality the sensor can produce. These larger lenses tend to be more expensive.  The cost of a Nikkor 24-70 mm f 2.8, arguably the finest mid-range zoom offered by that manufacturer, is roughly $1900 US, at B+H Photo as I write this.  Price aside, this big, beautiful optic weighs almost 2 pounds. This is significantly more than the weight of the D700 to which it would be attached.

Because of these issues, over the years, I have developed several workarounds for using my full-frame cameras in the field.

The first work around is that I don’t actually use FX very much for landscape work.  My D7000 body for instance, is more compact and has more resolution.  The smaller DX sensor utilizes lenses that are lighter and less expensive.  I think in particular of my Tamron 17-50 mm f2.8, or my Nikkor 16-85 mm f3.5 both of which are excellent landscape choices.

The second work around is my use of “prime” lenses when I do venture out with full-frame. This appeals to both my lazy, and my cheap side, as these lenses tend to be inexpensive and light.  They also tend to be very high quality, especially at the modest price point at which they can be acquired.  Their small size and weight has made the D 700 very manageable for hiking.  There is however the need to carry multiple lenses, and the problem of changing them in the field, sometimes during conditions that might tend to foul the sensor.

So I’ve been looking for a small FX capable lens, a midrange zoom, of reasonable quality, but small and light enough to keep things manageable on the trail.  Preferably, it should be a modest cost.  And I think I’ve found it.

The Nikkor 28 – 70 mm F3 .5 is a small AF-D lens made in the 1990s.  It is an old school design, of polycarbonate construction, with a metal lens mount, but like many of the AF-D lens line of the time, well made and finished.  It is very reminiscent of my Nikkor 50 mm f1.8, and my 85 mm f1.8 in terms of build quality.  It is slightly smaller in size compared to the latter.

I became interested in the lens when I saw it on multiple websites reviewed quite favorably, especially given its astounding price point.  (I bought mine for roughly $70.00 on EBay).

Now I love a deal..  For $70.00 I’m definitely willing to “take a flier” and see whether it could be a useful addition to my photo kit.

I try hard not to be a “lens snob”.  Certainly there is a minimal quality level that a useful lens has to meet.  I believe that the right scene, the right set up, and the right shooting technique, tend to trump ultimate lens quality.  If the optic has reasonable center and peripheral frame sharpness, with decent contrast, it will not be the reason your photographs sucks. You may have to shoot at F5-F8 for the lens to perform well, but hell I tend to do that anyway, even with better glass.

I took the lens with me this week on several hikes.  I was easily able to carry the D700, with the zoom attached in my small camera bag.  It focuses using a screw drive, and so it requires one of a higher-end Nikon bodies for it to properly auto focus.  On the D700, it focused quite quickly and accurately.

One anachronism about this lens is its rotating front element.  This means that the front of the lens spins with the focus ring. This makes the use of a polarizing filter somewhat awkward in that one has to constantly readjust the filter every time the focus is changed by the photographer, or by the autofocus.  The lens is also unusual in that it tends to shrink and grow with both with zooming and focusing.

An advantage regarding filters on the 28-70 mm is that they are only 52 mm in diameter and thus considerably cheaper than the 77 mm filters on the pro-level lenses.  The rotating front element problem can be dealt with by focusing manually (so nothing moves without your permission) and carefully adjusting the filter to maximize the colors in the viewfinder.  I quickly got used to this technique.

So for the ultimate issue… what is the quality of this $70.00 lens? Actually, it’s quite good.  Obviously an f3.5 lens is not as “fast” as more extravagant models.  For a landscape photographer used to shooting in a reasonable light and on a tripod, this is not much of an impediment.  I find that the optical quality lens is quite good.  I’ve included in this article some sample images shot with this lens both in the field and indoors.

By way of comparison I offer the same image acquired with a similar vintage Nikkor 50 mm f1.8 which is well known to be sharp, and have low distortion.  I shot both at 50 mm and f 5.0 with the camera bench mounted. All processing was the same.  Here is 100% magnification of a peripheral portion of the scene shot.  I think that you can see the differences between these two lenses are fairly minimal.

Now I have no doubt that bigger pro-level Nikkor glass may be better quality, but the tradeoffs of weight and bulk mean that this diminutive midrange zoom is rather useful in its own way.

One last issue.  Apparently this lens is someone obscure.  When I developed photos in Camera Raw shot with the lens, the automatic lens correction defaults to the 70-200mm f2.8 settings. On the PTL Lens plug in for Photoshop, the corrections ar based on a Sigma 28-70mm f2.8. I have no idea whether this is deliberate or accidental, but the lens is not mentioned on the  former software’s Nikon lens list.  Regardless, the corrections in terms of distortion and vingnetting seem modest.

In summary I think for myself shooting this is a worthwhile little optic.  It’s small and rugged enough and frankly, if I drop it off a cliff, or into a pond, I can afford a $70.00 I will require to replace it.  And I think it has sufficient quality that it should never get in the way of capturing an excellent image.

After all, isn’t that what we truly require of any lens?

I have an image on my den wall of a rhodora bloom.

It is a flower that grows in the scrub oak barrens adjacent to my community here in Northeastern Pennsylvania. I have been told by naturalists that this is an anomaly, because it’s only supposed to exist much further north.

I shot that image with a 4 megapixel Nikon Coolpix 4500, which some of you may recall, was the final high-end iteration of the original twist body Coolpix. I have printed it at 8”x11” and larger, and love the image. It looks good to me even 7 years after it spit out of the Epson 2200 that I used in those days. And I have become very critical of images over the years.

Now I have owned a large number of compact and bridge cameras over the years. I printed and enjoyed many landscape images captured with non DSLRs in years past. Nowadays, I am somewhat unhappy with using a compact camera for this purpose, even the so-called “premium” compacts such as my Panasonic LX 5. I get many less images nowadays from small imager cameras that I would consider using, let’s say, in an exhibition, whereas in the past, I have used such cameras to confidently decorate gallery walls (and make sales).

Given some discussions I have been involved in various photographic forums, I have begun to wonder just how much better off we are , in terms of small-sensored cameras, than we were in the earlier period in the digital photography, when there were less pixels on small sensors than now.

I shot over the years with many “bridge” cameras in those days, sometimes side-by-side with DSLRs in the 6 MP range. My memory is, that whether it was a Nikon Coolpix, 900/4500 (3 and 4 megapixels respectively), my 4/5 megapixel Olympus E10/E20 or an Olympus C 5050, the files (I shot in those days mainly JPGs) were usable for landscape images, and that the images were pleasing to the eye, even printed at 11×16” or even occasionally at 13x 19”.

Now it seems to me small sensors seem lousy, not only relative to larger sensored DSLRs but even compared to older imagers with half the resolution. I can’t tell if I’ve become spoiled by the likes of my D 700, or whether packing those tiny sensors with as little as 10 MP is having a deleterious effect on certain,  intangible measures of image quality.

Obviously, this discussion should be limited to base ISO. Even a 2/3” sensor such that came with the Olympus E 20, was horrible above ISO 200. A Canon S 100, LX5 and certainly the new Fuji X10, would wipe the floor with them at higher sensitivities.

But I do wonder whether there are other advantages of bigger pixels, even big old technology pixels, have characteristics that make up for the advances that have come since.

This is a 100% crop of an image shot with my Olympus C 5050 from a kayak in 2004. It makes a nice 11’x 16’ print, like many others from that camera. And, it was shot in RAW at ISO 200, miraculous for a bridge camera of that era. My other cameras at the time included a Fuji S2 pro. I often printed and sold images from the Olympus, again limited somewhat  in size relative to the Fuji. In this image I particularly notice the lack of noise, and reasonable detail.

Here are two images: one from my 2005 vintage Fujifilm E 900 which at the time was considered a marvel at high-resolution, High ISO (800 ASA max) shooting in a compact

.

It sports the same size 1 1/6” inch sensor as the LX5 which I used to take the other image. These were shot at ISO 400 in raw format, had the same exposure settings at f4, were corrected with the same settings in ACR, and sharpened with the same unsharpen mask settings in Photoshop.

I’m not saying that there’s no difference. I think the Fuji noise is coarser, and there could be a smidgen more color noise. Detail seems about the same. Now the E 900 sensor is 9 MP and of the so-called “SuperCCD” design, so famous in the F 30/31 Fuji compacts These were the cameras that arguably started the craze toward lower resolution, higher sensitivity sensors ( I still have one). I do feel however, that given the 5 years between models, the differences are modest. I’m pretty sure that the E 900 would compete nicely with many other modern imagers.

It should also be said the ergonomics of the LX-5 are significantly better than the older camera making it much more usable. Oddly enough the E 900 may have the first compact that disappointed me with it’s image quality (maybe because the size of the megapixels).  I did get some keepers( see December 2013)

Now that having said all that, the Panasonic can render details nicely, if shot right. Here’s a 100% crop of an image I took with the LX5 recently, also at ISO 400 .

What’s my point? I ‘m not sure there is one, except perhaps that as photo gear enthusiasts, we are seduced by the power of industry marketing,  which is aided at times by enthusiast websites who are connected to photo gear suppliers. Imagers are getting better, but perhaps more slowly than we think.

If you’re going to buy a new camera or camera body, make sure it functions better for you. Test it against the gear it’s set to replace. If it’s not truly more functional, don’t be afraid to send it back. And make sure that you buy  from reputable dealers that will allow you the privilege.

Also once in a while, If you have an older camera on your shelf, pick it up and shoot it. Print an image. You might be shocked just how much you like it.

Every year in the Northeastern U.S.,we are lectured by meteorologist types about the linkage between the climate, and the quality of the fall foliage.

Now, it seems to me that most fall seasons are reported to be
drier than normal. This tends to result, we are told, in attenuation of the
colors of autumn leaves, and thus a dull 3^rd season.

Now it seems that whatever happens, the fall colors suffer.

This year, the spring summer and early fall were much wetter
than normal. Seasonal totals are significantly higher at this point in the year that an
entire years precipitation from as far back as 1951. It has rained a lot in the last 6 months.

And interestingly,  the foliage has suffered. Issues became apparent in mid
September when Maples, and some Oaks, did not assume their usual autumnal display
of reds and crimsons, but turned brown, and shriveled on the tree. Apparently
the wet conditions caused a normally inconsequential fungus to become a
problem, injuring several tree species, and causing their leaves to bypass the
fall colors we look forward to.

This affected mainly the reds of the season. The birches,
beeches, and some maples still turned yellow or gold. The deep crimson of many oak species less affected by the fungus, were also dulled looking, definitely more brown than red.

Many leaves just fell. By mid-October which is usually “peak
leaves” in these parts of Pennsylvania, the canopy was almost completely open, its leaves brown, and trampled underfoot.

As a landscape photographer, you do what you can to find beauty,
when nature conspires against you.. You look for isolated scenes with good
color. You include geologic or man-made artifacts into images. Or, you look for
patterns and texture.  Black and White can work when the foliage is dull. You try to make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.

Finally, on the 28^th of October, nature lobbed a softball to those of us that shoot outdoors. The Pennsylvania Mountains received nearly a foot of snow, while there was still some color on the trees. The snow created a new canvas
on which to depict the fading autumnal display, and grab a few more images
before things fade  to the dull façade of November. The white stuff lasted several days before succumbing to the late October sun.

Now, I look out my window to view a scene cloaked in the
browns and grays of the early winter. It’s early in the morning as I write this;
a heavy frost clings to the fallen leaves and grass.

There are still things to photograph in a Northeastern
Pennsylvania November. I’ve written about it here and here.

But for me, this weekend, I will put away the camera gear
and break out the leaf blowers and rakes to deal with the remains of last year’s
fall scenery,  a good bit of which now covers my lawn.

Soon, the snow will fall, and hopefully stay.

It’s been a lean summer photographically. As fall
approaches, my folder of good summer images is painfully thin.

I suspect my lack of production this season has multiple
factors. One would be the professional distractions mentioned in the article
below. Having a lot on one’s mind, with the stress that goes along with it, can
definitely dampen the creative drive.

I also think that I’ve developed a bit of photographic
fatigue. Though I have traveled a bit this summer, for the most part I  have work, and thus have to and stay close to home, driving though the same places I have been through before.

Often, I will see an interesting scene and then realized that I already have an image of it in my archives somewhere.

Sometimes it is worthwhile reshooting the scene if light is
better, or to acquire it with a higher quality imager, but that can seem tedious
relative to finding a novel subject for capture.

As I get older, I have become more discriminating. For
better or for worse, I am more selective on when I trip the shutter. I think I
have a better sense of “what works” in terms of good landscapes. I pass on
scenes I might have shot in the past.

Another issue is the loss of scenery caused by development.
On of my favorite local areas to shoot is the Butler Township-Conygyham Valley region of Pennsylvania, outside of city of Hazleton. I have a branch
office in the area; on a Monday afternoon after office hours, I like to drive
around, looking for scenic spots.

Problem is, that over the past 10 years, so many if the farms have succumbed to development, that the former scenic vistas are now cluttered with new houses. I have many images that would be nice to reshoot, but it is now impossible because the “view shed” has been corrupted.

Finally I think that believe that a portion of my decreased output
can be blamed on White Nose Disease.

Yes – I’m talking about the fungal infection responsible for
a huge decline in the Northeastern U.S. bat population.

At Nescopeck State Park, for instance where I often
hike, there is a large “bat house” erected in the park above an informational
display about the little winged creatures. In summers past, standing
underneath, one could hear the scratching and the cries of parent bats and
their pups, and note the telltale splashes of guano on the ground below. Not now, as the house is silent, the grass, unstained.

Now, I do a lot of shooting while hiking. The loss of the bats, combined with a wet spring and summer means that the flying insect population has seriously increased. I rarely had a problem with Mosquitoes before. Now when I stop walking to photograph something, I am swarmed upon by hundred of the pesky critters.

Forget carrying a tripod, you’d be bled dry before you could set it up. The best I could manage during this season have been a few “grab shots” before being assaulted and forced to start moving again.

I miss bats. I rarely see one anymore. Interestingly we had
one in the house several weeks ago which we gently caught and released into the night. Hopefully he or she is resistant to the fungus, hungry… and prolific.

Hopefully the onset of autumn will rekindle my enthusiasm a
bit.

Maybe I need to challenge myself, for instance limiting my
photography perhaps to a single focal length, subject, or theme.

Or, I need to buy some better insect repellent.

This year in the Appalachian highlands of Pennsylvania, spring
has been a long time coming.

In typical years, we get a taste of better weather starting in late
March. This year, the best the month offered was an occasional clear day, with temperatures  perhaps in the 50’s (Fahrenheit), before the snow would fall once again.

I have written earlier that I have visited a spring pond in Nescopeck State Park, on one of these tepid afternoons where the peepers had tentatively begun to sing. This seemed hopeful.

It snowed the next day.

Common wisdom was “Well, March is always lousy…wait until April. April is when things get nice”.

Well April came, and so did the rain. It seemed to rain
constantly, and without the usual consolation of warmer temperatures. Streams
and then rivers flooded; the more volatile creeks flooded in multiple cycles, as storm
after storm drifted east from the much more turbulent weather in the south and Midwest.

I know…May flowers and all of that.

Finally we at least, in mid to late April the grass started
to “green-up”. Wisps of foliage  began to appear in the forest.  The forsythia finally began to bloom very late in the month.

The season however will not be denied. Nature can be delayed, but ultimately there is a cycle which will win out over the reluctant climate. By late April maple leaves began
to erupt from their winter buds.

The first male hummingbirds returned to my wife’s feeders, eating voraciously to
cope with the lingering cool conditions.

Finally now, in these middle days of May, there are consistent
high temps in the 60’s and low 70’s.

The pent-up vernal energy seems to have exploded. Over several
days the transition to spring has been accelerated. Dogwoods, fruit trees and Azaleas are in bloom.

Even the reluctant Oaks, the dominant species in the mountain forests, have begun to leaf out. Today we will finally cut our lawn for the first time.

The birthing of spring is always more difficult in the northeast Appalachians.

This year, it was breech.

As I have written in the past, there is something cruel about early spring in the highlands of Pennsylvania.

 The winter of 2011 will be remembered in these parts, not for the large amount of snow we received (actually only 50 or so inches here where I live) but for the relentless cold that maximized its impact, and kept the ground, sidewalks and at times the roads, covered with the white stuff.

 In the forests, the snow cover was between a foot, or maybe two, for much of the winter. There was no true “January thaw”, like we usually experience.

It was so relentlessly “winter” here, that I decided to forgo my usual March Adirondack trip, and went to Florida instead.

Even there, the season’s grasp had not relinquished. We had cool temperatures during our travels, mainly in the 50s and 60s.  

There had been multiple freezes in January and February, injuring the subtropical vegetation. From Jacksonville to Cape Coral, we encountered cold-injured palms, their fronds brown, and falling to the ground. In the estuaries and tidewater areas, the mangroves were lifeless when we were told that they should have  been lush and green.

Because of this, several scenes I shot seem to work better as monochromes rather than in color.

 

 Back at home, at least for some of us, there was an upside. We had reliable cross-country skiing and snowmobiling from early January until the first week of March.

On the downside, I burned a lot of firewood and of course, heating oil.

Photographically at least , snow and cold are helpful,  shrouding what would be a brown lifeless landscape with season appropriate trappings ,  decorating the farms and forests.

Winter however, was starting finally break. Last Sunday afternoon, I walked a local trail, called “Frog Pond Way” named for the multiple permanent, and “Vernal” ponds, that it encircles.

It was a clear day with the bright spring sun warming to me to a degree beyond what the 50 degree air temperature might suggest.

The cries of a flock of newly arrived robins, the distant call of a pilated woodpecker, and the cooing of mourning doves filled the air.

In every suitable body of water I encountered, a pair of mallards paddled together, occasionally tipping their heads down to the muddy bottoms to search for food. I surprised a pair of cormorants resting at one of the larger ponds.

And at one particular pond I encountered what I consider the truest sentinel of spring. As I approached I could detect the first tentative chirping of wood frogs, beginning to search for females.

I knew that there was some mixed precipitation forecast for the overnight, but not something that should slow spring’s progression. Or so I thought. One Monday morning we awakened to find two inches of snow on the ground. Twenty four hours later, eight more had fallen. We’ve had daytime temperatures in the low thirties since, with lows in the teens.

 I cross-country skied again yesterday, the scenery once again resembling what is seen in late January.

As always, March is full of surprises.

 

Pennsylvania Winter Farm (Nikon D7000, Nikkor 16-85mm f3.5)

 

Occasionally, a budding photographer will approach me for advice on how to capture better images.

I think that my answer must disappoint them. I’m sure most beginners really hope that I can direct them towards the purchase of a particularly sexy piece of gear, such as a camera body, or a particular lens that will set their photography afire.

They want to talk about gear. I want to talk about composition, and technique. Particularly, I want to talk about rather mundane basics such as the nature of optics, shooting discipine, and camera, and lens support.

Not that there aren’t some great photographs blurred by subject motion, or camera movements.

Most great images are sharp, even if it is at a narrow point of focus selected by the shooter.

 Generally, for an image to be sharp, the camera and lens need to be still relative to the subject, as the shutter is released.

Now, there are many ways to properly stabilize a camera.

My first rule would be: the human body unaided, is at best, only a fair camera support.  Now true enough, a practiced pro shooter can hand-hold, and certainly achieve great results, usually far better  than an amateur. There are reasons for this. First, the pro is practiced at taking still images, much in the way a fine marksman, can draw a bead and hold very steadily on his target. It takes concentration and lots of repetition. There are places to learn this: here, and here.

 Most amateurs have lousy technique. They think that they can hold a camera, arms akimbo, far out from the body, trying to shoot a telephoto shot through a slow zoom lens, at an impossibly slow shutter speed, and still achieve Sports Illustrated quality shots of their precious soccer-playing offspring. It doesn’t work that way.

A pro understands that the proper shooting technique is to hold the arms close in to the body elbows braced against the chest or abdomen, and the viewfinder pressed against the face. Holding as modern digital camera out away from you while you frame with the viewfinder, is generally going to lead to fair snapshots, but lousy fine art prints.

Also, often pro camera gear, is heavier. This means that the poke of the finger on the shutter, and the movement of the mirror and shutter, on an SLR, is working against the greater mass of, for instance,  a heavy, metal-bodied  camera such as a Canon 1Ds mark II, rather than a diminutive plastic consumer grade Digital Rebel. It thus creates less blur-inducing movement.

 Most landscape purists use tripods… period. Many shoot large-format cameras that are too unwieldy to be practical for anything but tripod mounting.  The true purist would use, very heavy tripods with equally beefy camera mounts that add mass to the camera body and couple it rigidly to the floor or ground, essentially eliminating camera movement.

Tripods are great for detailed images. They are less useful when for hiking long distances, for discreet shooting and sometimes, for spontaneity.

 Obviously, there are available, stabilized lenses, known as IS lenses for Canon,OIS for Panasonic, and VR lenses for Nikkor. These can partially make up for camera shake. Modern Sony, Olympus, and Pentax SLR lenses are generally stabilized by the camera body itself. Whether in the lens or body, stabilization is a useful feature, but can only be counted on to compensate for modest camera movements at reasonably fast shutter speeds.

Combining a heavy tripod with a remote shutter release (or releasing the shutter by using the camera self timer) is still the best way to obtain sharp, enlargable landscape prints.  This is especially true when shooting moving water, or in low light situations.  We should probably all do this, all the time.

In fact, good technique and less megapixels, will sometimes trump bad technique with more megapixels in terms of fine detail reproduction.

I have walked, snowshoed, and skied many miles with a tripods strapped to my pack. In a target-rich photographic environment, I sometimes leave the body and lens attached to the tripod, and travel with the combination over my shoulder, much like the way Huck Finn would carry a fishin’ pole.

 Lately though, I have changed tactics.  I found that sometimes setting up all the gear to work as a purist means that there are shots you won’t take because, it’s too much trouble. I still do use a tripod on formal shooting days. But for more casual opportunities, or for situations where I think that the neighbors will react badly to my presence, I use other techniques.

Cross-country skiing is one example. I have two ski poles in hand, and often, no where convenient to carry a monopod. I will then have to improvise.

Holding crossed ski (or hiking) poles with my thumb and third to fifth finger, I can improvise a bipod with the pair. My index finger can then encircle the barrel of the lens which rests in the cross. This works pretty well.

Trees when well located can be used to stabilize things, either by leaning against them, or bracing the camera hard against the bark. A small sandbag in your bag is helpful to facilitate the latter.

Any firm stable object can be useful. Fence post and bridge rails make fine camera supports. With SLRs, it is useful to press the camera into the support, to damp the movement of the mirror. Again a sandbag is useful to position the camera on a hard surface.

Logs, the hood of your car, your mountain bike seat, even rocks in the middle of a stream, can offer a shooting platform, as well as a non-intuitive, but unique shooting viewpoint. The Panasonic G 1-G1h- G2h-series cameras are great for this as they have an articulating view screen for framing at weird angles, are physically small, and have no mirror, and thus no “mirror slap” to dampen.

Finally, most often lately, I use a monopod.  Mine is a steel Bogen-Manfrotto unit with a sturdy ballhead mounted, a ballhead similar to, if less robust than the one on my good Gitzo tripod. Both ballheads use the same camera shoe so that I can switch back quickly between support options.

The monopod is a solid, heavy steel unit. The weight is an advantage when mechanically coupled to the camera, and then to the ground. There is a rubber foot, which can be slipped off to reveal a metal spike.

It makes a robust hiking pole. I keep it in my car wedged between the passenger seat and the console where it is readily available for “grab shots”. I have also suspected it would make a formidable self-defense weapon.

For landscape photography, I extend the monopod to the length I need. I make sure all of the joints are tightly locked. I position the camera with the ball head and then lock it down tight. I find that placing some weight on the camera-monopod assembly and making sure it if firmly engaged with the ground before tripping the shutter, allows me to take very sharp images even at marginal shutter speeds. I can grab good shots very quickly with a monopod in situations where a tripod would be slow and cumbersome.

If you aspire to create photographic images beyond the average, you need to spend time learning the basics. 

These methods may seem tedious and even stifling. Always remember that good camera technique and save you from opening your compositional masterwork, the one you hiked hours to capture, only to find is a blurred, unprintable mess.

Take the time and trouble.

It’s worth it.

In my previous article: The Bleak Times of Year , I attempted to discuss the difficulties of shooting landscapes in our Appalachian late fall season.

 I neglected to discuss another strategy to obtain interesting images (though I  did, I believe, post an example of this strategy as the article’s original header image).

As it fall drifts into winter, the air gets colder… and drier, as the atmosphere at lower temperatures cannot hold as much moisture as when it is warmer. 

The “crisp fall air” has a striking effect at dawn at dusk, producing colorful, vivid sunrises and sunsets. Given the shorter daylight hours, they tend to occur at times more convenient for us sometimes lazy photographers . Add ice, or fall snow, and the effect is even more striking.

 I t goes without saying that you need to steady the camera in the kind of low light situations presented at the very beginning, and end of the day. Tripods are the usual answer, but I have used diverse solutions.

One morning on the Monday of after American Thanksgiving  I sat in my tree stand in the crisp pre-dawn stillness, waiting for the sun to rise and hopefully, a trophy buck to wander within rifle range. It was very cold that morning, and I remember hoping that the small amount of coffee in my thermos would be enough to keep me warm until the our break at lunch.

There are many different kinds of trophies however: I watched as the skies slowly brightened over a nearby ridge: the clear air and complex cloud patterns conspired to create a spectacular display that caused even the most ardent hunters in our group to lose focus on the task at hand, and gaze at the sky. 

In those days good gear took up a lot of space in my backpack. I had only a very modest Nikon point-and shoot camera with me which I sat on the top rail of my hunting stand,  and released the shutter with the self timer, to avoid camera shake.

Shooting horizon and sky in the low light period between day and night, you need to focus carefully, mindful of the fine filigree of leafless branches often silhouetted against the sky. You need to keep the ISOs low to avoid noise in the shadows.

This gives you something to do for the short run.

Soon the holiday decorations will be put out, the winter snow will fall, and the world will become visually interesting again.

Until then, if the earth’s scenery is dull and lifeless, shoot the sky.

November Evening Corn ( Panasonic G1, Lumix 14-45mm f3.5)

 

The leaves have mostly fallen. The forests, viewed from afar now reflect the grey of  tree bark, the light tan of beech leaves, which will stay on the trees till spring, and dull brown of spent foliage on the forest floor. 

At first glance, late fall in the Northeastern U.S. offer slim pickings for landscape photography.

After the blazing colors of mid fall, which occur in mid-October in the mountains of eastern Pennsylvania, Late October, and November can be an imaging challenge.  I’m the photographer for a calendar we publish every year. Shooting November’s image is a definitely feels more difficult than for other months (except perhaps March, and August).

The transition from autumn splendor to the dull scenery of late fall can occur fairly quickly. One good windy storm after “peak leaves” occur, and suddenly the colorful forest canopy is gone.  What had been a “target rich” photographic environment can vanish overnight.

 Still and all in some ways, I like the late season.  You need to be observant to be successful. You can’t always rely on the cheap thrill of iridescent sugar maples and crimson oaks.  No more cheerful outdoor scenes with people happily playing touch football, because in November, it’s getting cold, and the people are all inside watching football. To be effective and compelling, late fall photography needs to focus on subtle things.

Contrast is a wonderful theme for this season. If you look hard enough (and know where to look) there will always be residual color, even into the early winter.

First, in cool dry air of fall, sunsets become more spectacular even as the foliage fades.

 In our area, some maples and oaks delay their fall color, and hold their leaves until later in the year. Tamaracks can have brilliant yellows late in the year.  Shrubs such as Blueberry and Hawthorne retain their brilliant reds long after the main foliage has disappeared. One strategy is to find these stragglers, and feature their beauty in a way that juxtaposes it against the dull post-foliage background. Longer focal lengths and wider apertures can be useful to help isolate these small remaining patches of interest, and blur the background.

It’s helpful if your images depict a seasonal tradition, and hopefully for the audience, a pleasant memory. Scenes involving holidays are an obvious possibility.

  In our part of Pennsylvania, hunting, particularly deer hunting, is a deep-seated passion, and for many evokes strong memories of fellowship and traditions enjoyed in late autumn. I often rove the on the day before “buck season” to scout for interesting scenes among the hunting towns in the “Endless Mountains” region to the north of my home.

 Another opportunity involves the transition between seasons, and the scenes at the cusp can be worth recording. The first frost, a late fall dusting of snow,  the first freeze up of a forest pond, or an unexpected ice storm, offer opportunities to the alert photographer.

As always, good landscape images should tell a story, in this case of a natural world that is “battening down” to endure the cold months to come.

I believe, that the care and imagination one needs to find beauty in relatively bleak periods during the year, can make us cleverer photographers when seasons cooperate.

 

Red and Orange (Panasonic GH1, Lumix 20mm f 1.7)

 

On a day off, especially if I am awakening in the morning during a photogenic season, or in a scenic place, I have to make a decision.

Do I get up, grab my photo gear and go out early, or do I “sleep in”. This is a decision that I usually make based on the weather.

If it’s cloudy, I stay in bed, knowing that the same shooting conditions that I would encounter at 6 AM will exist at 11. I can sleep a bit, have breakfast and coffee, and still get good light.

If it’s clear, I think about it. You have to get up very early, arguably before sunrise, to catch the very best light. If I can look out the window and can already see that it’s clear, I probably already missed the best shooting. Have to wait until sunset.

If it’s foggy however, particularly if there’s no rain, I’m up instantly. For fogs, or mists, in many ways and in their many forms provide a wonderful backdrop for landscape photography.

Landscape photographers need to try to understand the weather. It’s helpful to anticipate the atmosphere’s behavior in order to be present for the best shooting conditions. I’m not a meteorologist, but I know a few things:

I know that in the fall of the year, when a cold front passes after a period of warmth, fog will form in valleys, particularly in river valleys, while the surrounding ridges will be clear. The amount of fog will depend on the “dew point” of the atmosphere.

I know that a similar phenomenon occurs anytime cool moist air passes over warmer surfaces.

I know that it is not unlikely to have fog, when there is an ice storm in the winter.

I know that fog will occur at times I cannot predict.

Fog is like free bokeh (see definition here) provided by the atmosphere. When it is thin, it blurs and deemphasizes the background detail, focusing one’s attention on the subject.

When it is thick, it can transform the commonplace into the abstract. It can change a pedestrian scene, into a more magical vision.

It helps to have equipment that is relatively moisture resistant. Don’t underestimate the pernicious effect  of water vapor on electronics. Don’t bring warm cameras out into cool moist environments. If you do, water will condense onto the electronics, and lenses will fog. At the least, it helps to have a lens cloth available.  

Better yet, let the equipment equalize to the ambient temperature (I usually leave my gear overnight in a place where that can happen). Typically then, there will be few issues.

Every once in a while, Mother Nature helps us with our craft.

Take advantage of it.

October 18, 2010

Alright , I admit it. I screwed up A number of our readers pointed out that the real danger of condensation on camera lenses, and in camera bodies occurs when cold equipment is brought into warm environments. Bang, you got me. In my own defense however, I would say that I was trying to warn my gentle readers about the perils of using electronic equipment, in ultra-humid environments.

I am greatful that people are paying attention.

 I hope you’ll continue.