During my five minute photo jaunt at my parents’ house this past Fourth of July—just before I made this black and white hibiscus macro—I set my 100mm lens upon a plant I had known for years but to which I had not the pleasure of knowing its name. How rude? After quick a conversation with one in the know, my Mom, my ignorance was shed. Enter the hosta, legitimized by name. A wonderful broad leaf flowering plant wont to grow in close proximity to the ground while fanning out quite wide relative to its modest height. When the time comes it extends its blossom skyward from the center of its leafy body. This season my Mom’s hosta plants are blooming with gusto, and I’m most pleased with the delicate mood this macro photograph evokes. By design, selective focus keeps the sharpness limited the blossom’s apex, while its petals spread out and fade away into smooth, buttery bokeh.
It’s been a good long while since I’ve made a black and white photograph. A quick look at the archive reveals other than a onetime blip back in April, it had been since August of 2015 that I had made a proper black and white. Too long!
Interestingly enough this photograph was yesterday’s output of no more than a five minute photo detour I took along my parents’ side yard before transitioning to camera-less Fourth of July activities. It’d be wrong to categorize the 16 exposures as throw-away shots, but I’d be lying if I said I knew I was going to walk away with at least three keepers from the brief session. The lighting seemed unremarkable and the wind was blowing just enough to frustrate any handheld macro shooter; and yet the results populating my Lightroom catalog run entirely to the contrary. (A good reminder that I still have plenty to learn.)
I really like black and white, and I really like this shot. It’s sporting all the key ingredients required for a well executed black and white photograph—macro or otherwise. The composition is strong, moving the eye from the deep darkness of the bottom left corner up and through the stamen and pistils of the hibiscus flower. The selective focus adds moodiness and depth to the photograph, enhancing the sharpness of the pollen resting atop its anthers. But what really kicks this into black and white overdrive is the contrast; the dramatic shifts from near total black to the intensity and brightness of near total white. The image runs the grayscale gamut and locks away the final dimension necessary for a fine low key finished product.
Oh, and check out this post if you’d like to learn more about the anatomy of a hibiscus flower. This will help clear up some of the flower parts I referenced in the paragraph above if you’d like to further your learning. The post features some solid macro photos, too! Related: I can’t believe this is the first hibiscus photograph I’ve posted in the now two and a half year history of this website. I would have definitely lost that bet…
Time is weird, man. While I feel mired in quicksand, struggling to move in chronic slow motion I am juxtaposed by the fast moving reality that it’s July. In 2016. Or so I’m told. Somehow, somewhere, I’m still stuck in April 2006, but hey? Any Multiverse theorists want to take this on? So here I sit watching Nintendo Voice Chat pounding out a post on my computer one evening removed from the Fourth of July—my favorite holiday by the way. Even though overcast skies and incoming rain may put a damper on tomorrow’s firework festivities, I’ll embrace the fact the calendar is turned to the month added in honor of Julius Caesar. We’ve reached high summer—the Saturday of summer—as much as it doesn’t feel like it.
With summer in full swing it’s high time to get back to my macro roots. In the front yard fresh daisies are in bloom affording the perfect opportunity to return to some good old fashion handheld camera fun. Macro work is a chance to get back to basics—a chance to ditch the tripod, ditch the bracketing, ditch the timer, ditch the routine to make some old school point and click shots. The other day a blue bottle fly came to visit, pollinating away on the fresh blossoms. Not easily scared the fly was more than willing to let me get up close and personal with my 100mm lens; these shots were made at a distance of roughly 12 inches from my subject—allowing me to bring the viewer right into the frame. Now I have to admit, shooting macro far less frequently these days I’m a little rusty, but I still made off with a few decent exposures. Practice, yo—I hear it makes perfect. More to come.
Petal Your Wares — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/100
If you’ve been following along with my photo blog journey for any length of time you’d probably describe me as a landscape photographer. You wouldn’t be wrong, and frankly it’s how I’d describe myself. But if it wasn’t for flowers I’m not sure this hobby would have ever gotten off the ground. Let’s take the TARDIS we don’t have but sure do want back to the 2012 photo project that kickstarted my photo endeavor; back to the litany of flowering species populating my yard that taught me how to put an actual camera to use. That spring and summer I became an almost exclusive macro photographer, and in doing so I learned through trial and error how aperture affected depth of field while simultaneously engendering a newfound appreciation for the flowers of this world.
Conveniently enough it was this purple peony you see pictured above that proved to be one of the first hey, this shot is actually kind of OKphotographs I ever took. Crucially it instilled just enough confidence to have me thinking maybe I can make something of myself in this space. At a minimum it offered enough visual evidence that I had at least some clue what I was doing. Feedback both positive and tangible are necessary to fuel the motivation to keep going. It makes effort and failure worthwhile, and it can sustain us through inevitable plateaus that are unavoidable in any task, career, activity, sport, you name it. Life is a serious of small victories mixed in with the moments of monotonous struggle.
For my landscape fans: please bear with me through the flower posts, and don’t worry there will be plenty of wide angle shots worked in over the coming months.
The Facade Is Worn — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1000
Lost in a walled garden, cloistered from the prying eyes of a bustling world littered with throw away lies and misplaced attention, the truth is never as it seems. Locked away is a tempest. A raging maelstrom hewn from the depths of uncertainty and doubt, dressed and veiled in the finery of false idols of the dog and pony show life. Eyes closed it’s a perilous descent into unyielding malice inflicted upon the self; damage wrought wholesale tearing up what’s left of a failing heart, mired and tired, off beat and inflamed with nary a pulse of love. Tiresome it rages, the limitless tempest few will ever see but which many weather on their own. Out on the fragile surface, youth will bloom, a carefully manicured artifice of peace and beauty that betrays a tainted, feral reality roiling below. May calm come to thee, ye who conquers self.
Dandelions are a mixed bag. As young child roaming free in East Brunswick they filled my senses with wonder. My friends and I would blow on the seed heads until we were gasping for air; when the seed heads were barren and useless like popped bubble wrap we’d move on to their yellow-headed counterparts. Here we became more savage, plucking them from the earth and discarding the yellow crowns with a pop of our thumbs. This was not without ritual either as we’d chant, “momma had a baby and its head popped off.” Problematic, I know. I’d like to think I’ve grown from such barbarous beginnings.
In my “adult” years my mistreatment of dandelions has become somewhat more conventional. Now I just deal with them chemically so as to keep my lawn relatively weed free. Of course, the occasional seed head still serves as a dignified photo subject.
Nouns, can we talk about how hard pictures have been to come by lately? I can’t buy a photograph and it’s weighing on me. Desperate to make something out of nothing, tonight I tried to work with the quality golden hour light pouring over my currently in bloom Japanese Maple. A staple of my front yard for years now, this is certainly the best tree my humble property has to offer. While it’s been wide anglesunset goodness I’ve been craving for weeks this is just going to have to hold me over. In the meantime the drought continues. Peaks and valleys. Peaks and valleys.
Such is Life — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/250
Unwelcome cold has crashed the Mid-Atlantic early spring party and brought its unsociable below freezing friends with it. After a well above average March, with temperatures readily exceeding the 70s and 80s, winter has stormed back with a vengeance laying waste to my Jane Magnolia bush. It was only a week ago I wrote about how pumped I was to finally have my Magnolia back in full bloom after years in absentia. But after a week of morning lows in the 20s here we are back in the tundra with dead flowers in its wake. So much for getting my hopes up—thinking I’d make bunch of macro photos of its lovely purple blossoms this year. At this point I am just hoping today’s rain, sleet, and snow is it for winter 2016. Let’s get on to spring. Again.
