I Wouldn't Do it Any Other Way

The water washed across my feet, pushing them deeper into the sand. I was wearing Nike swim trunks, a white Kobe t-shirt, and a straw hat that I had bought in Cuba after misplacing my baseball cap. My Ray-Ban sunglasses were a bit salty, but I could still marvel at the blue ocean through them.

Other than the camera in my pocket, those were my worldly possessions at the moment. Well, to be honest, practically every moment.

I tugged at my summer goatee while looking out over the water. "I think I'll go for a swim early tomorrow. Maybe Airport Rock." I knew a storm was in the forecast, and I wanted to get a few more fish portraits before the churned up ocean clouded the reef.

As I thought about this endeavor, clouds gathered around Lana'i. Even though I have photographed that island a hundred times over the last decade, I pulled out my camera and captured it again. Monet would have appreciated the sentiment.

Over the past week, I have snapped nearly 500 images, some underwater, most topside while doing little else other than watching the clouds, or the tourists, pass by. About a hundred of those pictures I've gathered into an album for sharing. They are my pouch of gold. 

There are street shots from Lahaina, sea turtles from Black Rock, kids on a boat, and a morning walk with my wife back from breakfast at the Castaway Cafe. I also memorialized rainbows, egrets, trumpet fish, sunsets, and sand... lots of sand.

Not for one moment on Maui did I give a damn about my equipment. I had one indestructible camera in my pocket and that was it. That was all I needed. And the pictures that little device produced are precious.

And if I go back a hundred times, I wouldn't do it any other way. Why would I?

-Derrick

Oh Ye, of Little Faith

When a new product or application is introduced, reviews and discussions place much weight on what they don't do, compared to what they do.

I suppose that's human nature, looking for the deficiencies. But from a business point of view, no one has the luxury of waiting until their widget is perfect before its release. The phrase, "Real artists ship," comes to mind.

Once the new product is out there, its creator can garner feedback, prioritize improvements, and release updated versions. With good products and designers, this cycle continues indefinitely.

I'm thinking about this as I work with Photos for macOS and the DxO ONE camera. Both are produced by solid companies with track records of improvement. Neither, in my opinion, received the positive attention they deserved with their initial releases.

Photos is an innovative, extensible application that is taking real shape with version 2.0. It dares to be different, just like the DxO camera that plugs into an iPhone. And now, with its latest firmware update, can be controlled remotely via WiFi. Apple, nor DxO is charging more for the new features. And both have added many over the last year.

While writing the update to the Apple Photos Book for Photographers, I added chapters eleven and twelve. In one of them I talk about how kids react to the software. I rarely hear them complain about what it doesn't do. Instead, they learn its capabilities and mold those features to their needs. It's a wonderful process to observe. And they do it with enthusiasm.

And it makes me wonder, when the rest of us became so crotchety?

My basic philosophy for life is to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. There's a certain balance to this approach that keeps me from being both too naive or cynical.

The optimist in me loves to champion causes that have been overlooked or dismissed. I latch on to them because I see their potential. That's what I look for first, not the deficiencies. (When we observe our kids, do we judge them for what they haven't done yet?)

There are very few things in life that are minted perfect. Yet many of us continue to push ourselves toward that goal, realizing that if we even get close, it was worth the effort.

-Derrick

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Portland, Here We Come

My first conference in Portland, OR happened back in the O'Reilly days during the Open Source event. I was the staff photographer then, and I fell in love with the city. Now, years later, I'm going back to host my own event: The Nimble Photographer Workshop.

We debuted this series in June at the Out of Chicago Conference, and the event was a hit. Our next stop is the beautiful river city of Portland. And we have a terrific venue at the amazing, Pro Photo Supply on Northrup Street.

We gather at their event center at 8:30 AM on Nov. 5th. I'm keeping our group small, so we can really learn from each other, and to make it easy to move about the city when we go out to shoot.

Highlights over the course of the day include my sharing the techniques that I've developed during years of nimble photography, participant "What's in Your Bag" sessions, street shooting and portrait tips, hands-on session, post production discussion, gear review, photo sharing, and more. We're even including lunch.

You can reserve your spot for only $195. Seats are limited. Registration is open now. Pro Photo Supply has promised to have plenty of nimble gear on hand, and their event center, where we'll be working, is terrific.

I'm looking forward to spending the day in the beautiful Northwest. I hope you can join me.

-Derrick

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Fill Light

When I'm photographing people, I always look for natural lighting first. I like the way it looks.

But, as with most things in life, a little extra glow from the left or right makes the image even better. So I get out the reflector, look for the sun, then position it so I can lighten up the shadows. And just like that, the world is brighter.

I was thinking that fill light works beyond portraits too. Having someone to discuss a great movie with seems to complete the experience. And in the case of this past weekend in Pt. Reyes, listening to other photographers recap the day as we sit around the dinner table adds shine to the whole endeavor.

We don't have enough of this, do we? 

When I was kid, my parents had friends over to the house all the time. When they celebrated their 50th anniversary, there were more people in my sister's house than we had seats to accommodate.

I'm not looking to blame technology for this, but that does seem to be one of the reasons that our experiences have become more singular. We don't need others parked around the card table. We have plenty to do without them.

I'm not even sure if this is a bad thing. I'm pretty happy. And to be honest, everything seems fine.

Then I go and disrupt it all by leading a workshop. And instead of me basking in the glow of my laptop while reviewing pictures, there are eight of us at a long table recounting the day as we try to decide if an image deserves two or three stars.

I was just fine until you came along. And now you went and made things better.

I've come to the conclusion that I don't need this all of the time. But I do want it on occasion. Much in the same way that a shiny reflector adds a hint of sparkle to a woman's smile, these shared experiences make my life just a little brighter.

-Derrick

Brothers

We had just polished off a round of burgers on a warm summer evening in downtown Santa Rosa. My wife was sitting to my left, and three boys, at the end of their teenage years, across from me. 

I had two beers that night, one more than usual. But it was a special occasion. Each of the boys had just wrapped up successful internships. That's impressive for freshmen. As I recall, I worked in a body shop as a 19-year-old, moving cars around and keeping the paint tent clean. These guys were already starting their careers.

Our car was parked in a garage across the street. Our stomachs were full, and it was time to go. I had my Pentax ZX-5 with a 50mm f/1.7 in my right hand. Of course I did, right. 

Once we crossed the street, I stopped the boys and asked for a picture. They lined up stiffly against the cool concrete wall. People were walking around us. The young men felt awkward, but they knew there was no escape.

"Look, I don't want that," I said. "You guys mean the world to each other. I want something more for this shot."

I know these moments don't come often. Max will soon leave for his second year at University of Santa Clara. Zach will head south down 101 for his sophomore year at Santa Barbara. And Jason, who has been living with us for the duration of his internship, will head back to Santa Clara with Max. 

But for this moment, we're all here, together. I wanted this shot on film. It's a film shot, meant to be captured with silver and celluloid. Forever. Brothers.

"C'mom, give me some GQ," I said.

That always makes them laugh and seems to loosen up the scene. And sure enough, it came together. They forgot about everything else except each other. Click. Light passed through the lens, through the open shutter, striking a million silver crystals that memorized 1/30th of a second of our lives.

This is a fraction of a moment that I will never get back, nor will I ever lose.

-Derrick