Opting for Plan B

I've never understood success.

Why is it that some things are wildly popular while others remain anonymous?

Have you ever noticed that if people don't want something, you can't give it away? Lowering the price only prolongs the agony. Remember the Hasselblad Stellar? It was released for $2,195. You can buy it today, brand new, for $895. And I bet they're still not selling. I'm sure Hasselblad thought it was a good idea when they created it. Who knew?

We all run into this, one way or another. We're creative. We make things. Many of us hope that others will appreciate our efforts.

If I post a photo on Instagram, I check back in a couple hours to see how many likes it has garnered. When I release a new title on lynda.com, I want to know how it's performing in relation to others on the site. I find positive reinforcement motivating.

Some artists say they don't care how others respond to their work. I think I know what they're getting at. The act of creating is rewarding in itself. That's true. But, just like having a quiet moment to oneself is satisfying... as long as that isn't a permanent condition.

Lack of success is often mystifying.

I have a lot of empathy for talented people who are unsuccessful. Most of the time, I can't figure out why. The ideas seem good, The work ethic is there. Yet, failure engulfs the project like a curse that can't be seen as it repels from all sides.

To tell the truth, I've never been wildly successful myself. I've had my victories over the years, and I'm lucky enough to make a living doing what I love. By the same token, however, if I let go of the rope for even a moment, I'll surely drift off into oblivion. To me, that's not success; that's a job.

So what is the deciding factor? How can anyone predict if their work will be successful or not? I doubt there's a concrete answer. So we opt for Plan B.

We leverage the little victories into momentum. This is why we need to celebrate the good things that happen. They provide the fuel that we'll need to get through the next day.

When someone complements your work, acknowledge that. Soak it in. Every success should be squeezed for all its goodness.

Odds are that neither you nor I will ever be rich or famous. But we can be happy.

Because the one thing we have control over is perception. When we learn how to see what is good and then show the wisdom to embrace it, we live to create another day.

And we all know that anything can happen tomorrow.

-Derrick

Moments and Compacts

My entry into digital photography was with a compact camera.

In those early days, digital SLRs were $20,000. That was way too much of an investment for a rapidly changing technology. So I opted instead for compacts such as the Olympus D-400 zoom. It featured a 1.3 MP sensor generating 1280 x 960 images that were viewable on a 1.8-inch color LCD postage-stamped on the back. And it cost less than $1,000. This was late 1999.

Compacts thrived in the early days of digital photography. We didn't have iPhones and Samsung Galaxies. So we recorded our family memories with compacts, then uploaded them to computers for sharing, most often as email attachments.

Before long, the rise of smartphones spelled demise for these compacts, and manufacturers have evolved their form factor into expensive replacements for larger cameras. The Sony RX100 IV, for example, is currently selling for $950.

There are, however, still reasonably priced, highly versatile compact digital cameras available. They don't get the attention they once did, but they're fun to shoot with. For a recent trip to Santa Barbara, I packed an Olympus SH-2 that's selling for $350.

For me, it's like stepping back in time. The camera slides easily into my front pants pocket, its zoom lens extends when I switch on the power, and I compose the image on a fixed LCD positioned on the back.

Of course today's models are high resolution, include WiFi, and have a host of creative functions that we could only dream of 15 years ago. But the experience is still very similar.

This really hit home last night. A group of us were sitting on the beach near Stearn's Wharf as the sun was setting. Everyone had their mobile devices. I pulled out the Olympus SH-2.

The kids had just been through freshman orientation at UCSB. They were excited and tired. The adults we feeling something different, a sense of pride, and of loss. We're going to miss them.

I pulled out my compact camera to capture the moment. The photo already looks like an image from the past. One that I'll want to hang on to forever.

-Derrick

One Prime One Zoom

Once again, I've found myself extolling the virtues of the 50mm f/1.8 prime lens.

This time it was to a pair of high school students who had been relying solely on their capable, but sluggish kit zooms.  "If your first lens is a zoom, then your next needs to be a large aperture prime," I said. "That's just the way it is."

For beginning photographers, this is a no-brainer. They can purchase an f/1.8 optic that's perfect for a variety of artistic shots for only $125. In the world of primes, that's a steal. And kids do amazing things with this glass.

But this optical tandem is for the young at heart too. My street shooting rig is typically an Olympus OM-D mounted with a 14-42mm EZ zoom on the camera, and a Panasonic 20mm f/1.7  stashed in my pocket... or the other way around. The zoom is a good all-purpose optic that can capture a row of interesting brick buildings one moment, then the smile of a beckoning shop owner the next. Its versatility is quite satisfying, that is, until the sun begins to set.

Then, as the day's shadows grow longer, the fast prime becomes my new best friend. I open its aperture all the way, increase the ISO a few notches, and set off to explore the darker side of urban life.

Maybe I want to isolate a subject, such as the image of a street vendor with soap bubble car lights floating in the background? This is not a problem for the fast prime lens.

I've photographed the streets of San Francisco, Boston, New York, Glasgow, Beijing, and Nagasaki with these optics. Essentially, I'm using the same two lenses that I recommend to my high school student photographers.

I just hope, that all these years later,  I'm still half as creative as they are with this glass.

-Derrick

There's Always a Gimbels Down the Street

One of my favorite scenes in the classic movie, Miracle on 34th Street is when the manager at Macy's changes his thinking (thanks to St. Nick) and recommends Gimbels Department Store to Macy's customers whose needs aren't being met. It turns out to be a brilliant strategy that Gimbels adopts later in the movie.

There's plenty of subtext also, and you could argue that Macy's was still acting in its own best interests by taking this stance. And in large part, I'm not so interested in the motivation as I am the action, at least in trivial matters such as this.

I bring this up because I too am a businessman. I have a variety of products, such as the TDS Photography Podcast, my movies on lynda.com, and the work I do for clients. It's a lot of stuff for a one man show trying to make a living in a competitive market.

From the beginning, my approach has been to write and broadcast about my activities. Whether it's sharing a photo tip that I just discovered, talking about a book I just finished, encouraging others to participate on a social network site that I oversee, or support publications that I write for, I choose these relationships carefully. That way I can enthusiastically talk about them publicly. 

Unlike other larger businesses, I don't have a big team behind me. The podcast, for example, is conceived, written, recorded, edited, and produced by me, usually late at night. The content is based on what I've seen and experienced in the last week. And I share it freely with my audience.

Every now and then I receive mail citing that I've just published a infomercial. Everyone is entitled to their point of view. My perspective is that I'm excited about the projects I'm working on. Others see it solely as self promotion. The content varies from week to week depending on my activities. I realize that some weeks are more promotional than others.

The bottom line is, however, this is my life. I don't want to work for a company, and I don't want to talk about things that don't interest me. I've done that. Quite honestly, it sucks.

My hope is, that on the balance, people enjoy most of what I discuss, and are willing to tolerate the weeks when I disappoint. It's really the only practical way I can manage this.

If that doesn't work, I feel badly about it. My goal is to inform and entertain. And I know there's always a Gimbels down the street offering something different.

-Derrick

Cohiba

I've been thinking a lot about Cuba lately... in large part, because my movie and eBook on the subject were just released. But there's something else going on.

When I look back on my time there, and  what I learned, a few things stand out: beautiful people, classic American cars, interesting architecture, organic food, intoxicating rum, and Cohiba cigars. 

I'm going to make a connection here that may not seem logical at first. To be honest, it took me a while to figure it out.

Photographers tend to think of craftsmanship in terms of cameras and lenses, and rightly so. These instruments are marvels of technology and skill. But when I learned about the art of Cuban cigar making, I saw a few parallels.

I won't detail the entire process (although you can read about it here), but a top quality cigar takes years to produce and involves great skill and patience. The wrappers are grown in the shade, other types of leaves cultivated outside, and every step, from harvesting, to curing, to assembly are a model of time-tested precision.

Yet, when we strike a match and push the flame against the wrapped leaves of sweet tobacco, we may not fully appreciate the very item we're about to enjoy. 

This sort of thing happens daily. Whether it's the complexity of flavors mingling in the wine served with our meal or the marvel of components puzzled together in our mobile devices, we typically don't realize how high others have reached to create these works.

I'll admit, it's asking a lot to understand the melding of rare earth metals and silicon that result in a phone. But all of us can wrap our heads around seeds planted in soil, nurtured to maturity beneath the sun, then carefully harvested and cured to perfection. That is, if we care to do so.

I've finally discovered the haunting feeling that has followed me home from Havana. It has to do with reaching one's potential. I have much more than seeds and soil. But I haven't perfected anything.

The more I learn about the craftsmanship of a Cohiba cigar, the more I want to grow as a writer, interleaving words and ideas into a seemingly simple work of art. And to do so lightly, like smoke carried off on the heels of a breeze.

It doesn't matter what I have to start with. It's what I do with it that counts.

-Derrick