“…we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract.” From The Gettysburg Address, Abraham Lincoln.
We were staying at a little boutique lodge, with just a few individual cabins scattered around hillsides along the western slope ofLa Cordillera de TilarĂ¡n, near the Monte Verde Cloud Forest. The couple who built, owned, and ran the lodge had a 15 year old home-schooled son, who had more practical knowledge about the world than many adults I know. He and a friend arranged for horses to take us on a ride through the mountains and forest, and to a beautiful waterfall where we could swim, and have a picnic.
It was a hot day, and the swim felt good, invigorating, but apparently Barbara’s horse felt left out of the cooling off option. As we were riding back out of the wildness, he simply stepped off the trail, into a deeper pool, and stopped, at which point all we could do was wait for him to be ready to move on.
In 1988 I was hired by Nikon USA to work in their Nikon Professional Services department (NPS). I was one of about a dozen “tech reps” scattered around the US with the broad job description of working with the professional market–the photographers for newspapers and magazines, commercial studios, hospitals and medical schools, freelancers, etc.–to spread the gospel according to Nikon. Not to sell, but just to educate heavy, high-end users on ways to get the most out of the gear we made, calling on their businesses, and staffing media depots for loaning and repairing equipment at major media and sports events.
Within a week of starting work, the company introduced the N8008, which I think was the most revolutionary camera since George Eastman made his Kodak camera, pre-loaded with a 100 exposure roll of film, in 1888. Suddenly we had to train the market on a new concept: Matrix Balanced Fill-Flash; and a whole new way of using the camera. It was not the first auto focus camera, but the first that could regularly satisfy professional needs. In the milliseconds between pressing the shutter button and the shutter curtain opening and recording the image, the camera could focus the lens, calculate a sophisticated exposure based on referencing a database of 1000s of photographs, and modulate the flash output to look like natural light, softly opening the shadows, with little or no effect on the highlights.
A question one of my colleagues asked at the time was, “Who trains the trainers?” It was a turbulent few years, trying to learn the rapidly evolving technology, at a minimum a precursor of AI, and teach it at the same time. It was a bumpy road sometimes, but an amazing education, and looking back, it was a blast and I’m so glad I was there.
Before this technology was incorporated into automatic (and user modifiable) functions, using a flash well was complicated, leading to an attitude by many if not most serious photographers illustrated by an oft repeated phrase, “I only shoot available light, but sometimes the only light I have available is my flash.” Using the flash was a last resort.
These days I’ll use flash when it can help, but I’m still looking for the “available light” option, and sometimes that is temporal. And for some subjects, it would be hard to have enough flash. If you stand on the left bank of the Seine, across from Notre Dame, after dark, and wait…a Bateaux Mouches will be along shortly, brightly lighting up the cathedral. Be ready, composition already framed up and focused, shoot fast and continuously. As the barge moves, the lighting will move across the architecture revealing different nooks and crannies.
One of the “rules” for successful pictures, usually learned in the second tier of wading into a photographic education, after spending some inordinate amount of time trying to understand “f-stop,” is the injunction to avoid shooting in the middle of the day, opting for the prettier angle of the light early and late in the day. You just can’t make a nice photograph under the harsh overhead light and deep shadows of noon.