We're Not the Only Ones

Having just spent 4 days in Austin with a group of photographers from publications all over the world, I'm beginning to realize that those of us who like to travel light are losing our minority status.

As you may have read, we were there to test the new Olympus PEN-F in a variety of locations. We shot through bar windows on 6th Street, inside the marbled halls of the State Capitol, and in various corners of a very interesting city.

While I was working shoulder to shoulder with these pros, who were under deadline and had to deliver the goods, I thought I would be one of the lightest packing shooters in the group.

I was wrong.

Most of these journalists covered Austin with a prime on their camera, and an extra lens or two in their shoulder bags. Some brought flashes too, such as Chris from the Phoblographer, but that was about it.

My general kit included 4 optics:  9mm body cap fisheye, 17 mm f/1.8, 75mm f/1.8, and the nimble 14-42mm EZ zoom. And I had everything I needed over the course of the day, and well into the night.

Some of my comrades asked about the sling bag I was using. I'll be talking more about it in a few days once that embargo expires. And their interest demonstrated to me that many, if not most on-the-go photographers have embraced the nimble lifestyle. Something that you've known about for a while.

You probably never thought of yourself as a trend setter. Well, you are.

And a light-footed one at that.

-Derrick

I've Always Been This Way

I was thinking about something I said on the last podcast. When I was talking about mirrorless cameras, it dawned on me that many of us have loved this form factor for a long time.

Even when I was a kid, I wanted to travel light. At 17 years old I had the opportunity to play basketball in Europe for team U.S.A. It was a junior Olympic tour. We don't really have that sort of thing here, but other countries do. So we put together teams and go play. I was a backup forward.

We stayed at military bases, presumedly to keep costs down. This was quite an experience for a 17 year old high school senior. I mean, those guys were tough. More than once I had the law laid down to me by a resident soldier.

One of the benefits, however, was having access to the PX on each base. We could buy anything we wanted as the lowest price listed. My parents gave me money to buy a camera. Mine had just been stolen from my oxidized blue 1961 VW bug.

I spent days pondering my investment. So many beautiful cameras on display in glass cases. I settled on a black Yashica Electro 35 rangefinder. It was stunning. It had a fast f/1.7 45mm lens that I operated in aperture priority mode. I loved it. And I immediately explored the cobbled streets of Heidelberg with it.

When I returned home to show off my prize, many were surprised that I didn't purchase a Nikon or Canon DSLR. "What a missed opportunity!" they exclaimed. "You could buy any camera that you wanted, and you brought home this?"

At first these remarks bothered me. But then, I'd grab the Yashica, find an old alley, and go take pictures. Those criticisms instantly melted away.

A few years later, some awful person stole that camera from my dorm room while I was attending college. They didn't deserve it. For them, it was just a few dollars from a pawn shop.

For me, it was an awakening, the start of something wonderful that continues to this day.

-Derrick

Not Touched Once

I'm back from Las Vegas. And it dawned on me during the flight home that CES is the antithesis of nimble photography. Yet, there I was.

Everything is big in Sin City. The hotels are giant labyrinths lined with slot machines and card tables. The conventions require days, not hours, to navigate the trade show floors. And the Strip is so wide that they have to build bridges for tourists to get from one side of the street to the other.

My goal? I want to glide lightly through it all.

Each day, I would leave about 8:00 in the morning. Weave my way through the MGM Grand to the monorail station. Ride to the Convention Center. Then work until it was time to reverse my route and navigate back to my room.

I dressed in layers and carried one shoulder bag that held these contents:

• Olympus OM-D E-M10 Mark II
• 14-42mm zoom, 35-100mm zoom, 20mm f/1.7 pancake prime
• Contax T2 film camera
• Zoom audio recorder (used it for a remote spot on the last podcast)
• iPad mini with SD card reader and Lightning cable
• Spare battery, memory card, and microfiber cloth
• Joby Gorillapod micro, Beats earbuds, and stylus pen
• 2 energy bars, small bottle of water, and a baseball cap in case in rained (which it did)

As I review my packing, as I do after every trip, here's my rule: If there was an item that was not touched once during the entire job, I put it on the watch list for the next assignment of like kind.

From this list there was only one candidate: the 35-100mm zoom lens. I was carrying it as protection in case I found myself in a situation where I need more reach than doubling the 42mm end of my travel zoom. But I never used it.

Of course I didn't. My existence was shoulder to shoulder all week. Rookie mistake. If anything, I should have had an ultra wide with me, not a long zoom. And that's the adjustment I'm going to consider the next time.

Nimbleosity is not a static state of mine. It's dynamic. It requires refinement.

And that's also the joy of it.

-Derrick

Old Dog

For the last two months, I've been learning a new photo management app: Capture One Pro 9. I'd love to report that it's been a breeze. But it hasn't.

I still remember that feeling when I first launched the software. You probably know this one too. I found myself staring at the screen, eyes squinting a bit, trying to decipher what exactly all of those icons meant.

My hands were paralyzed. I had no idea where to start, what to do. I numbly clicked on something that looked vaguely familiar. Nothing happened. So I tried something else and the screen changed to a view even less familiar. I quickly quit and stepped back from the computer. It was like I had been shocked.

Learning new software is hell. Learning really complicated applications is Dante's Hell. 

I didn't want to do it. I procrastinated by opening my camera bag and pulling out the new OM-D. It felt so good in my hands, so comforting. I knew how to operate it. The controls were familiar.

After a while with the camera, I regained some confidence. I approached the computer again, moving cautiously, like a lost child in a shopping mall. But no one was there to rescue me.

Fast forward eight weeks. My photo library in Capture One is now very organized. I'm importing, rating, and editing with relative ease. It's like the second week in a new apartment. I basically know where everything is, but I'm not sure yet where everything will be. That will take time. Some trial and error is required.

I'm pretty spry for an old dog. I feel like I'm 30. Many say that I act younger than that. Still trying to figure out if that's a complement or not.

Regardless,  I'm closing out 2015 learning a new trick. And it's a biggie. Proving once again that we can always acquire new skills... 

once we're exhausted every other possibility.

-Derrick

Remember the Kid Who Ran Away from Home?

I'm pretty sure it's a rite of passage: a disgruntled youth gathering up his most precious belongings and venturing out into the world.

When you revisit that image in your mind, what is it that you remember? The denim jeans and soiled T-shirt? The type of sneakers? The baseball cap? Nope. None of those things. The picture that we hold dear is the container that we depend on to protect those precious belongings.

Whether it's the Norman Rockwell tied-up bandana hanging from the end of a stick, or a beat up JanSport backpack, we always remember the bag.

The mechanism by which we transport our belongings is as important as the belongings themselves. It could be a new SUV, designer clutch, or yes, a camera bag. The love affair for these companions has been building since our youth.

I mention this because it's been nearly two months since I wrote about a camera bag, and it's killing me. I currently have a crush on the Tenba Cooper Slim, and I want to tell the whole world about it. I feel better already.

Beyond that, I'm fascinated by our affection for these carryalls. I think it's a sense-of-freedom-thing. When we have our worldly goods with us, we can go anywhere, do anything.

It's like that kid who thinks he's running away from home. All he wants to do is be himself - no nagging parents or disappointed teachers to torment him. 

You see, it's our nature to want freedom. And it's our bags that accompany us on that great adventure.

-Derrick