Archives for posts with tag: The Crunch

P2017_24-06-09s.jpg

Studying the proofs of my first magazine spread, due out in July.

When my personal life is such a mess, it is all the more that I strive for perfection in each and every frame of this make-believe world that I have absolute power over.

With the last bottle of Muji milk tea under my arm, I shuffle down the pitch-black corridor, my head bowed, my eyes watering, and quietly whisper some words of encouragement for myself.

“Someday, this will be all worth it.”

Maybe this is what keeps me going.

Lately, on the last couple of shoots, I found myself increasingly frustrated by the AF system on my Canon EOS 5D and having to resort to MF (manual focusing). And it was while shooting a gig last night, when another issue with the camera surfaced, that I realized it might be time to seriously take a second look at my current equipment line-up.

For the shoot, I took my Canon EOS 5D and two lenses—an EF 24-70mm f/2.8L USM and an EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS USM. The lenses were fine, as always. It was the camera; The two biggest problems are the limitation of ISO and inadequate AF coverage.

Low-lighting means poor AF performance

When it comes to shooting gigs, I like to frame up a subject and wait. When the right moment occurs, I’d activate AF, let it lock, and then snipe a shot, sometimes in a burst if the moment is sustained.

But without enough light, AF goes out the window.

The first casualty of low lighting is AF (auto focus) performance. A camera relies on the contrast in a scene to determine a spot where it can latch its focus on. As I’d written before in another post, every camera has a minimum f-stop that ensures AF would perform well. But specs from manufacturers are theoretical, the product of best-case scenarios. It’s a completely different story in the real world, where shooting conditions are a million and one in variation.

There simply isn’t enough AF points in the 9-point AF system of the EOS 5D to get a focus in the right area, let alone track a subject well. And the poor lighting condition of last night’s gig was further compounded by the kind of clothes the performers wore. Solid white, solid black. To a camera, these are all patches of gray it cannot sufficiently distinguish for AF.

Insufficient ISO for fast-moving subjects

The maximum ISO the 5D can go up to is also lacking for my style of shooting; I abhor the harsh look that Speedlites give, so I prefer to shoot in available light whenever possible.

For gigs, I like to use f/4 or higher—particularly for two-shots—so that I can better depict the relationship and context between foreground and background subjects. That limits the shutter speed available to me. And it goes without saying that subjects have to be sharp. But musicians groove and move when they’re playing, so there’s a minimum shutter speed needed to stop the action. Depending on the luminance of the existing stage lighting, shutter speed can get as slow as 1/90 or 1/60.

One way to overcome this is to crank up the ISO to the highest: In the case of the 5D, that’s 3200. But, even with that, the average exposure was f/2.8 at 1/90, which was cutting it a little too tight for my liking.

When Plan B is as bad as Plan A

I would have much rather used my other camera, a Canon EOS-1D Mark II. It has a fantastic 45-point AF system and is capable of 8.5 frames per second. For what I was trying to accomplish last night, the EOS-1D Mark II would have been great.

But I don’t use the 1D Mark II for low-light shoots, for one reason: Sensor noise. Being such an old camera, using an early-generation DIGIC II image processor, it performs poorly at maximum ISO: resulting shots are extremely noisy and quite often unusable.

What are my options?

canon1dsmarkiii So the issue now is that I have two cameras, each with a significant performance issue that cannot be compensated for by using the other: Fast, accurate AF on one camera comes at the expense of noise, while clean images on the other comes at the expense of good AF coverage. I’d need a camera that does both well.

The first choice is obviously a 1-series body, namely the Canon EOS-1D Mark III or Canon EOS-1Ds Mark III. Believe me, it’s hard to settle for anything less once you’d used a 1-series body.

But Canon’s 1-series bodies, with their spate of known problems, face some very strong competition when compared feature-by-feature to similar offerings by Nikon and Sony. The levels that the latter two have been innovating at for their latest offerings make Canon’s recent moves evolutionary rather than revolutionary. Canon has been slumbering and stumbling, a fact that is painfully obvious to many who have adopted the Canon system. Furthermore, there is talk in the winds that the EOS-1D and 1Ds Mark IV are just around the corner.

Still, having said all that, I really enjoyed using an EOS-1Ds Mark III I rented for a shoot a few months ago.

There is the Canon EOS 5D Mark II, which by all accounts should be an obvious choice for me.

D3_14-24_front_s

Sure, it’s a major upgrade. But there is just one problem. Canon obviously deems the 5-series as semi-professional; accordingly, it has chosen to retain the same 9-point AF system from its predecessor. This limits the 5-series bodies to architecture or nature photography, or any application that doesn’t require minute focusing. Say what you will about how the 9-point AF system has six additional invisible AF points to assist in tracking—an AF point that is invisible to me and of which I have no control of is worth nothing to me. Which leads me back to square one.

Then there are the Nikon D700 and Nikon D3. I’ve had my eye on these bodies for quite a while now. Both are very strong contenders—superior, even—for two reasons: 51-point AF and ISO up to a mind-boggling 25,600. Takes care of the two problems I am facing with my current cameras.

sony-alpha-a900What about Sony, the proverbial 800-pound gorilla? Its α system is pretty complete, and the Sony α 900 looks to be a really formidable answer to what Nikon and Canon have to offer.

But I feel it is still too early to tell where the young Sony α system is headed for. While all signs indicate that Sony does seem to be serious about its foray into DSLRs, the fact that it has, in the past, displayed a ready willingness to kill product lines abruptly—think Sony CLIÉ—makes me just a little wary to invest in its α system.

If I eventually decide I’m crazy enough to forgo my entire line-up of Canon equipment, and rebuilt a new system from scratch, I’d most likely adopt Nikon’s.

Any one at Nikon wants to hook me up?

It is clear, even to the casual eye, that I have lost a great deal of passion for all the things that, at some point in the past, had brought me great joy. That the two things which matter most to me—photography and writing—are the two things I am now paid to do only makes it all the more ironic.

I produce pretty pictures that I, at the end of the day, deliver to satisfied clients. I polish off articles that are well-received by a handful of appreciative readers. But after the last light has been turned off, or after the ‘Submit’ button has been clicked, all that is left is an emptiness that no amount of professional pride can fill.

Where are the traces of me that truly represent my voice and that are irrefutably me, every word a fragment of my heart and every sliver of light a shard of my soul?

I cannot remember the last time I took a picture that was directed by the heart. In everything I had written that have been published, I cannot find the emotions that had guided my hand. Everything is black or white, devoid of all the shades of gray in between, where the delight of chance lays and where the sparks of my creativity play.

What is it that has made me so afraid to venture forth?

What is it that binds me to this paralysis of my will and motivation?

I need to get out of this rut soon.

Then there is this blog, probably the one outlet of expression I truly give a damn about. It is this ship, this vessel I command, that takes me into the murky depths of all that I still do not understand.

But… how faded its colors, how dilapidated its sail…

A gathering with some old friends at Sal’s yesterday, one in which we had a cook-out and a Guitar Hero jamming session (my first, I must admit), got me thinking once again about how unhappy I have been about a particular aspect of my life for many years.

Being there, a humble home on the second floor of a row of dilapidated shophouses, reminded me how much I desperately yearn for a place I can call my own. It is hard to do great things, let alone think of doing great things, when I do not have a sandbox of my own to play in, when I do not have a shelter where I can take refuge from all the noise and hubbub around me and let my imagination can soar. A place where I, a loner at heart, can be alone.

Accomodation arrangements at present is one that is inconvenient, to say the least. That I feel I can’t even so much as stretch my legs without raising the ire of someone else or, conversely, that the presence of others in the same household disrupts my workflow is a clear indicator that it is about damn time I need to do something about it. I need to stake a place of my own in this world, figuratively and literally, a place that may not even be in this country.

A roof of my own, rented or bought regardless, requires a great deal of money. I am hardly in the position to achieve the latter, so I will have to settle for renting for now. To achieve that as a freelancer requires a solid financial bedrock I have to build one stone at a time, a task I find to be a monumental one to undertake especially at a time when I have seen gross profit plunge in the short span of three years to a quarter of a near six-figure, good money that I, admittedly, had in the vigors of youth carelessly managed. Filing my tax returns last night was the kick in the head I needed.

Maintaining the policy of saving and not spending is the one thing that I care about this year as I strive towards the goal of having a roof of my own. In doing so, I’ll be sacrificing indulgences such as vacationing and dating and fancy wining and dining and late-night partying, the latter of which I had long ago concluded to be largely meaningless, the temporal high they give transient at best.

At this point, when I am constantly worrying about when the next paying gig will come, I can care less about having no social life or tending to relationships. Because, when I am unhappy at such a fundamental level, everything else is secondary, niggardly and selfish as it may sound.

  FCP Timeline.PNG

I have never taken it upon myself to canvass for work much, something I really should do because I know the worth of my work. So, with this letter, I hope for new opportunities, sights and rewards in the year ahead…

Considering that I don’t really feel any more in whatever I do for a living these days, I don’t really know why I’m writing about the shoot I did earlier today. Perhaps it is because the shoot went well, but, then again, it is only when a shoot has gone belly-up that I feel compelled to write about it.

But, yeah, the shoot went exceedingly well. Smooth. Butter smooth. So well that I called for wrap almost three hours ahead of schedule. The weather held up. There were familiar faces on the set; my girls, who I still see almost every day even though I’m no longer resident at the production company they’re at; the same make-up artist and the same camera assistant who had been on my last shoot. The agency creative director was easy to work with, which was a surprise considering how, when he had been on the shoot we had a month ago for the same client, I had thought otherwise.

On that shoot, my mentor—my former mentor, really—took the lead; I was on set to assist him as the tethering tech, the guy on the shoot who works the shots as they come in live from the camera tethered to a laptop (I make Lightroom fly, something my mentor the old guard struggles with). I got the feeling that the CD had left the shoot not completely satisfied, even if he had put up the “good-job-you’re-the-best” front, that facade and veneer of hollow professional friendliness and courtesy I could detect from miles out and that I, despite being guilty of practicing exactly that every once in a while, abhorred.

The thing about compliments, receiving or giving regardless, is this: just as there is a very fine line between looking cool and looking like a dickhead, the distinction that separates a sincere compliment and a copious amount of it, so much and so profuse that it borders on gushing, is razor-thin. Keep gushing about something, and throwing in superlatives while you’re at it, and my bullshit meter goes off the scales. As far as I am concerned, a sincere ‘thank you’ gets you a long way.

I was glad I did not get much of the bullshit after we had wrapped. But the bit about “you’re a solid photographer” was really unnecessary, especially when it is followed by “you really know what you’re talking about.” Of course I know what I’m talking about. That is why you hired me in the first place, isn’t it?

I’d much prefer if you showed me appreciation by way of a fatter cheque. Superlatives do not cash out.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 518 other followers