Flooded corn field, outside Columbia, Illinois, by Erik M. Lunsford

“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.

hacking bananas, south St. Louis, photograph by Erik M. Lunsford

Every fall, proprietor Joseph Waeltermann of the Southside Garden Stop in south St. Louis City chops down his hardy banana trees in anticipation of the winter season. Waeltermann will mulch over the chopped remains and wait until spring, when the trees will grow again.

Having learned gardening and growing in Florida, my return to St. Louis and its seasonal schedule for plants still seems alien, even though I grew up in the Midwest. Who knew that hardy bananas grow to heights of ten to fifteen feet in the summer heat and survive freezing temperatures through the winter doldrums? Equally mind boggling is the fall planting schedule for hosta and hydrangea, two recent entries in my garden at home. Intentionally planting it just to see it die back seems absurd, but I suppose the first buds on branches and sprouting tender leaves from the soil in the spring will carry with it a sense of cyclical normalcy.

Jefferson County High School Firstcoming 2009, photographed with the Canon G10, copyright Erik M. Lunsford

A good friend of mine once told the story about a newspaper staff photojournalist who uses (or used, considering the age of the story) a pair of point and shoot cameras on assignment for that photographer’s paper. Startling, I remember, since at the time I was a rookie photographer lovingly enjoying the sight of two large cameras dangling from my neck and couldn’t fully comprehend the reason behind this perceived insanity. I remembered Alex Majoli’s point and shoot stories in Iraq and it hit me — the benefits of these little cameras sometimes outweigh the gross limitations, yielding some very unique and powerful imagery that has its own style footprint and usefulness. Unfortunately I brushed all that inspiration off and moved on, shooting years worth of portfolio material with my digital SLRs that changed only with the paper I was affiliated with. Nikons in Florida, Canons in Missouri.

Fast forward a few years. I’m editing my portfolio with the help of Sid Hastings, and in some sort of bizarre karmaic twist my jaw drops. Our portfolio edit stuns me, because for the first time in my career my portfolio is led with a photograph made on a point and shoot camera. And, I’m not ashamed of that…in fact I’m delighted. Would you like to see? Here, let me help you with the link. It’s the photograph of the St. Louis Cardinals players at spring training.

Here’s how it started. I was filming the players with my High Def camera for some b-roll. I had been waiting three weeks for the players to use this fantastic white wall stuck in the middle of fields. I wanted some stills of it and wasn’t willing to compromise with a video frame grab. So I grabbed the Canon G10 that I carried with me for quick video work, set it to aperture priority with a stop and a quarter under to bring out the colors, and framed the photograph. Prefocusing on the white wall (not hard with the contrast) and using the optical viewfinder, I captured about twenty silent frames while the HD camera continued to roll under me. Since the G10’s shutter is silent, my audio was unaffected.

Fantastic, I thought!

The depth of field with the tiny sensor chip actually helped me by bringing the bat and ball and background players into focus. In addition, nobody knew I was capturing pictures. They’re used to the chattering sound of SLR cameras, not the submarine-silent quality of the point and shoot. Fantastic, fantastic!

Since then, the G10 and I have had a rocky relationship. Editors would pass it back to me for the early morning spot-news shift, and I would have to relearn its quirks. Other staffers would change settings and before I knew it the camera was chirping at me, firing off the AF-assist light at the most inappropriate times, and singing to me with clumsy start up sounds. Now that I have it back for a period of time, I’ve reset the custom functions to what I consider relatively fast for quick operation. It works like this:

Set the camera to manual or aperture priority with continuous AF and capture. Set the focus to the center sensor and underexpose a stop or two using JPG capture.

Prefocus.

Prefocus.

Prefocus.

Use the AF-Assist light only when necessary, and always turn the flash off. When flash is needed, set it to minimum output and only use it within a foot or two of the subject.

With those settings dialed in, I’m finding more uses for this little camera. It gets me into some tough access situations, because it doesn’t scream big camera. It’s silent, which is key. And, it also focuses quickly in the dark, a trait that my SLRs stumble on.

Here’s the kicker. It isn’t a fix-all. There are still shortcomings. It’s slow, it’s got a sensor jammed with way too many pixels and too much noise (which apparently might be relieved with the new G11 successor), and the optical viewfinder takes me back like a hundred years. Yet, it continues to amaze me.

Here’s where Alex Majoli comes in again. Walking around with the G10 sans my SLRs makes me feel a little, oh how should I say it, naked? What if that prized photo pops right up out of the ground and I don’t have the Mark II & 24-70 ready? That’s where you have to swallow hard, prep the compact camera, and go to work. You might be amazed what these little cameras can do for you. Push the limitations of the camera’s benefits, and use it for specific purposes. Take the photo above as an example. I was shooting a high school dance in a pitch black room. The Mark II was straining to see in the dark. The little G10 zeroed in the focus, and I captured such unexpected frames that surprised me. Above, with the G10 set at F2.8 @ 1/8 th of a second, I caught the flash from a nearby camera, highlighting the girls on the left. Combined with fantastic depth of field (it’s like seeing clear in the dark), the frame pops off the canvas.

Now, if Alex can shoot prize-winning mag work using his setup of point n’ shoots, then I can down that silly thought of feeling like a tourist and make pictures that a SLR couldn’t get. Now, don’t ditch the SLRs by any means — that would be foolish. Daily work belongs mainly to rugged staff kits, but more and more there’s a place in my heart for these little compact cameras.

“The paradigm for photographers today is that you just can’t be, you have to be sort of a jack of all trades, you can’t just specialize anymore,” said VII Photo Network photographer Benjamin Lowy, featured by Kristen Joy Watts this morning on the NY Times Lens photoblog.

Lowy strikes the perfect chord, and from a newspaper perspective, it’s easy to agree with him. One day you’re shooting a story on industrial pollution,  the next day you’re shooting fashion at the Ritz-Carlton, the following day you’re shooting video and filling a request to fix a 400mm Canon lens (well, that may be an extreme, but it’s plausible as you can see).

Specialization of personal style has its place, but I also believe now — contrary to thoughts in my early years of photojournalism– that you sometimes have to “tailor” your style or look to a particular assignment, or better yet as Lowy explains it:

“I tailor how I see, and I let each situation I’m in impact my eye and the way I work.”

People I meet on assignment always ask me the same question. “What kind of pictures do you take? Sports? News?” I have the same answer every time — everything, and anything, or if not still pictures, then video or audio gathering. Call it a one man band like one of those poor broadcast saps who do standups on their own sticks, but that’s the direction this industry has taken, for better or for worse. Either way it’s a win-win for the photographers. We’re more versatile, creative, and attractive to potential clients.

“The time has passed where, you know, the photographers of the last generation were able to really get into a niche, and I think today we need to be able to do a little bit of everything, and that doensn’t water down the preciousness of your work, it doesn’t water down your vision.”

Via Click and the NY Times Lens photoblog.

They say to improve your skills you have to push yourself outside of the comfort zone. It becomes even more demanding when you’re shooting for shapes on a daily basis formulated from preconceived ideas that are about as visual as blank white walls. I’m outside of my own zone struggling to layer photos better while maintaining a tried-and-true graphic bent. It’s my personal goal to lift my work to the next level and shoot consistently more sophisticated photographs. It’s more or less hit-or-miss right now, but with good critiquing from fellow photographers and good energy and attitude in the field, I’m confident my eyes will improve over time. Let me know what you think and don’t beat around the bush; let me have it. Here are a few recent photos.

Top to bottom: Mizzou football camp for high-school athletes, DeSmet High School, St. Louis, Missouri. Nerve decompression surgery by Dr. Robert Hagan, Mason Ridge Surgery Center, St. Louis, and annual Soap Box Derby in St. Louis. The derby photo would definitely benefit from a hand gripping the vertical sign a la Alex Webb’s “Under a Grudging Sun.” Photographs copyright Erik Lunsford.

The blog has been a bit personal lately, and that’s okay. I needed to sort out some things these last few weeks, so please pardon the lack of posting. There’s a list of goodness on the way. Please stick around.

Freshly painted parking lot, photograph copyright Erik M. Lunsford