By Michael Blumfield
With photography, there comes a time when students have to go it alone – no help from an instructor, reminding them of the fundamentals, making suggestions or offering encouragement. It’s just you – flying solo.
Unlike actual flying, there’s no real threat of bodily harm (unless you’re trying to take a selfie on the edge of a canyon.) But pride is on the line. You’re venturing out for a few hours to try something new. Worst case scenario: You cry yourself to sleep that night. Best case: You gain self-confidence and the eagerness to do more of it.
Here’s a story about one of my first solo flights when I tried something I’d never done before. I’d been studying photography with Boston Photography Workshops for a couple of years and had absorbed the major technical lessons plus some basics about composition and Lightroom. I was eager to replicate an effect I’d seen other photographers do – capturing the movement of water so it appears as a dreamlike blur.
First step: Pre-flight planning and checks
My research on the subject showed it required a tripod and neutral density filters to avoid blowouts. (They act essentially like sunglasses on your lens.) I had the tripod, but needed a couple of filters so ordered a cheap pair from Amazon – one rated as ND 3 (mild darkening) and the other as ND 10 (more severe darkening). The filters fit the small Micro 4/3rds lenses I had, which were the full-frame equivalents of 34mm and 15mm.
Now I just had to figure out if there was some place nearby to shoot that had, um, moving water. (Hey, I’m a Midwestern boy who hasn’t been here long.)
I considered Pebble Beach near Rockport and studied the crime reports: No recent murders. No crime sprees. No calls to the police complaining about annoying photographers on the beach. Bingo.
With charged batteries, a few SD cards, my mask, and a tank of gas, I was ready to ascend the 30 miles to the north. “Control tower! Request permission for take-off!” I said into an imaginary microphone. I couldn’t quite make out the response from the crabby dude in the tower, but I believe it was, “Yeah, whatever.”
Hitting some initial turbulence
I alighted near the beach, grabbed my gear, stayed clear of a few maskless groups of sunbathers, and plopped the tripod at the water’s edge. Using the ND 3 – the milder of the filters – with the 34mm, I got this shot.
“OH MY GOD! That’s HORRIBLE!” I said to myself. “I’m going to CRASH!” (Well, not really, but play along – it’s part of the flying solo metaphor.) Checking my equipment, I saw the shutter was only open for 2 seconds – that wasn’t going to be enough to get the moodiness I sought. Any more, though, and the shot would be too bright. What to do?
Suddenly, in my head I heard a voice – that of an overly patient dark-haired guy with glasses and a scruffy beard who was acting as an unseen flight instructor. “Pssst! Turn down the ISO to reduce the sensitivity.” When voices talk to me, I listen. Bumping down the ISO as low as it would go, I got this shot with a 20-second exposure.
Gaining elevation
Better, but still lacking. What about the ND 10 filter? Changing to that, I could shoot for even longer. I also thought I should get closer to the water and find a more interesting angle. The result was this 40-second shot:
Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. But still not that great. Another unseen flight instructor from Boston Photography Workshops (it’s getting crowded in this imaginary cockpit) talked to me: “Don’t just stand there – move to another location!” I climbed over a seawall to a spot between rocks and put on the 15mm to get a wider view:
This was a 50-second shot and the water was looking like fog floating over the rocks. The sky was too bright, but the pretend co-pilots told me I could tamp it down in Lightroom. I grabbed a few more shots, then banked south toward home.
Touching down
At my desk, I played around with cropping and tweaking the colors and contrast and got this from the 50-second shot:
As someone described it later, it looked “like the end of the world.” Another shot and edits produced a variation that wasn’t so foreboding:
Planning future flights
Make no mistake: I don’t feel like I’m qualified to pilot much more than the photographic equivalent of a single-engine Cessna at the moment. It will take many more years of shooting and editing to feel confident I can control the more complex flight paths that advanced imagery requires.
But it turns out that the ethereal effect of moving water was much easier to achieve than I imagined, so other forms might not be too intimidating. And even if they were and my first attempts didn’t go anywhere, I’d survive.
It’s also reassuring to know – sort of — that those BPW flight instructors have taken root in my head. Their voices are always calm, reassuring and positive. But I do need to have a word with that crabby dude in the control tower.
Not quite ready to fly solo? No sweat—we’d love to be your co-pilot! Join us for an outdoor travel workshop to refine your skills and get ready to take off on your own future photo adventures!
When he's not trying new photo techniques and having imaginary conversations about his work, Michael Blumfield handles marketing communications for financial services and advanced technology companies. Not kidding.
