Steve Neukomm’s own Spirits of St. Louis Whiskey at Square One Brewery (top) and Manhattan (below). Photographs by Erik M. Lunsford

Chicken fling, north St. Louis City, Missouri. Photo by Erik M. Lunsford

Today was one of those soul-sucking morale-crushing days as a photojournalist. A set of deep breaths and something good to eat tends to fix the problem. I was waiting to publish this photograph of a young lady helping a chicken to the air, perhaps to uplift my spirit. Now is as good as a time as ever.

Sno-to-go, south st. louis county, missouri.

Opening day at Fairmount Racetrack, Collinsville, Illinois.

Mark Twain greets tourists, Hannibal, Missouri.

This is a pretty good story about a Twain that Hannibal doesn’t really want to keep around. Take a look.

Revitalization of Dunbar Elementary, St. Louis, Missouri, Photo by Erik M. Lunsford

Mac n’ cheese in the pan, the following morning, photo by Erik M. Lunsford

Sorry for the delay in posting. It’s been days of comfort food and cold tablets fighting this acute respiratory illness, and I still feel like these mac n’ cheese leftovers the following morning. And by the way, while we normally don’t leave leftovers laying around with two roaming cats and a counter-cruising dog,  when you’re sick (and in this case my wife Karla is also sick) the daily chores suffer at the hands of a work-stoppage. However, this photograph was inspired by photographer Kevin Miyazaki’s amazing “within reach” series, which never fails to surprise and captivate.

“What I really love is transformative photography…Transformative photography is photography that changes you as a person, that asks questions (instead of answering them). You’re not the same person any longer after you’ve looked at it – and given the nature of this experience, it usually cannot be depleted (even though it might become weaker with time).”

And while Mr. Colberg is not opposed to the “occasional visual tickle,” his answer gives new context to some of his prior blog discussions on photography.

“For example, when I’m talking about how I prefer the message over the medium (and not the other way around), that’s why. There is no transformative power in the medium itself (even though the visual impression created by some photographic processes – think daguerreotypes – can be stunning).”

Think back to every episode when you’ve seen a body of work that completely transformed your own thought process or even style of photography. For me, that was absorbing the work of Sam Abell and Alex Webb for the very first time. Johnathan Newton of the Washington Post showed me Sam Abell at the Mountain Workshops, and Matthew Ratajczak showed me Alex Webb over a break in the The Stuart News newsroom. Within a span of minutes on those two separate occasions my photography style and direction was irrevocably altered.  It’s impossible to disagree with Mr. Colberg when he says the “experience of coming across a new body of transformative photography is exhilarating and indescribable.”

Read the rest on Mr. Colberg’s blog Conscientious.

Once was a parking lot, photographs by Erik M. Lunsford

I’ve always had a strange compulsive desire to collect sea shells. When I lived in Florida, I scoured the beaches daily for something new. I went after thunderstorms, hurricanes, tropical storms, etc, to see what washed up on shore. It was hard because the east coast of Florida is rather shell-less. The shell collectors dream award goes to the Gulf coast of Florida for its beautiful varieties.  When I found a shell I liked, it was bagged and the search continued. A second, a third, a whole bag full; it didn’t matter. I wanted more and more. Had I continued to live longer down there my house would have turned into some eccentric shell-lady house full of shell decorations. Shell lamps, shell drink coasters (have those), shells in glass jars (have that too), shell-framed mirrors, shoes with shells tied on them, etc, etc.

The same goes for fall foliage photos. I drank the Fall Kool-Aid last week (see previous post on the tree farm) and since then I’m on the same compulsive kick like the shell addiction. If it’s a drizzly and cloudy day with mounds and ground covers of leaves, I want to be there shooting it and possibly jumping into it as well. Call them cliche they are and boring, it’s something I can’t control. Just look down, see what I mean?

Summer & Fall meet, Jefferson Barracks Park, St. Louis, Missouri.

Remnants on a  car hood, St. Louis, Missouri

Red on blue building, south St. Louis City, Missouri.

Rainbow of color, downtown St. Louis, Missouri.

DWI traffic stop with St. Louis County Police Officer Fred Yaakub, Canon 5D Mark II, ISO 5000,  1/100 @ F2.8, photograph by Erik M. Lunsford

There is a new saying out there — 2500 is the new 400.

Okay, I made that up, but it’s mentally cementing quickly.

Let me take you back nine years when I was interning, first at the Post-Dispatch, second at the (Springfield, ill.) State Journal-Register, and finally at the (Peoria, ill.) Journal-Star. I learned by shooting film — primarily Fuji Press 200,400,800 — for two of those three papers. The Nikon F5 and F100 cameras still sit in a bag now, bubble-wrapped like some fragile ancient fossil awaiting exhibition in a museum. Only the lenses from that kit — a 17-35, 80-200, and 35 F2 Nikkor still are in the starting lineup with my current Nikon digitals. See back then, pushing 800 press film to 1600 was like dire need only, because it was grainy and you had to plug in the increased developing time on the old Noritsu developing machine. Generally, you shot either 200 outside, 400 in so-so, and 800 for inside stuff, and grain was a part of life. Then, just a short while after, I eagerly embraced digital from money saved while interning. I bought a Nikon D1, learned the ins-and-outs from Rob Galbraith, and started shooting assignments other freelancers couldn’t take because I had the ability to transmit on site. Noise in essentially ALL of the ISOs was a big problem, but color correcting became a completely new art in of itself having to coerce a Zen-like balance between green and magenta skin tones and cyan colored skies.

Years later, the D2h staff kits evolved into Canon 1D kits followed by personal Nikon D200s and company Canon 1D Mark II series cameras. Noise is controlled up until about 800, when things get dicey on both systems. All those years my mind slowly absorbed shooting technique, knowing how to expose the cameras without even thinking about it — an automatic reflex if you will — that just somehow works. People ask all the time — what exposure works best in this light or that light, this condition or that condition? Expecting an academic answer, I always say the same thing…oh, you know, whatever feels right. I don’t even know anymore — my mind and fingers work together automatically just like our respiratory system. It’s working, but you don’t even notice it. When I head back to edit in Photo Mechanic, I see what my automatic system was thinking. 1/250th, 6.3, under exposed a stop and metered on the highlights, or overexposed 1/2 stop, 1/125th 3.5 to bring out skin tones.

One of my editors keeps coming to me with the same saying — “Erik, your images are always too dark.” I keep saying, my mind and fingers meter the highlights — it’s automatic and it can’t be controlled. It’s ingrained from the early days of digital. Vincent Laforet does the same thing — he meters for the highlights to eek out the color and contrast. Just check his freakishly killer stuff.

Now, factor in the equation of new cameras like the new Nikon D3s or Canon 5D Mark II (and certainly whatever 1D successor is in the works) with high ISO noise control never seen before in the history of photography. ISO 6400 (!) 12,800 (!!), 102,400 (!!!) Un-friggin-believable, given that just a few years ago we were given digital cameras that completely eliminated the need for film in a newspaper workflow.

So, here’s the dilemma. All of these years in low-light situations we’ve learned to stand up straight, prop yourself against a stable surface, breathe in and gently exhale while releasing the shutter, motoring off a dozen frames at 1/8 @ F2.8 in the attempt to nab a sharp frame — or a frame that’s newspaper sharp (read, barely sharp). Now, that whole paradigm has changed. Years that we’ve feared to raise the ISO dial beyond 1600 due to ghastly noise are no longer an issue, and that has my mind in a tailspin general protection fault reading abort, retry, fail(?).

[Your shooting reflex] has encountered a problem and needs to close. We are sorry for the inconvenience.

As an example, using a 5D Mark II on loan from Canon in high-ISO territory made me pause on a recent DWI story assignment (see above). How do I meter @ ISO 5000 in a midnight street scene lit only by ambient streetlights. The mind has actually never encountered that scenario before — trust the meter? Is that even correct? Meter highlights here or better to average it out? It’s a mentally paralyzing feeling. 1/100 @ 2.8 in the dark. Who would have guessed? Check the LCD. It’s a vulnerable feeling having to rely on the camera.

Thankfully, photographers generally adapt. It’s only a matter of time, really. When the paper hopefully cross my fingers upgrades equipment, I’ll be shooting full time with this new high-ISO equipment and pushing the ISO to 6400 and such will become commonplace. Now the only question to ask myself then will be: ” how did I ever live without this?” which is ironically the same question asked after moving to digital, and after Fuji Press came out, and after autofocus came out, and autoexposure, etc, etc, etc.