Blue Hour, Soapstone Prairie Open Space, Northern Colorado (Kodak Portra 160)

I went on one of my 4042n jaunts last Saturday, this time to SoapStone Prairie Open Space, a relatively new area at the extreme edge of Colorado. You can cross into Wyoming on one of the short backcountry trails. Having decided the goal for the day was to record honest images, I headed out with a pack full of Portra 160, some Ektar, some Delta and of course Tri-X. 

Soapstone Prairie Morning, Extreme Northern Colorado (Kodak Portra 160)

What do I mean by honest images. I mean images of an area that don't happen for a split second once a month, then are gone. An honest image is an unpretentious image. An honest image represents what an area looks like 99.9% of the time, not .1% of the time, deceiving viewers into believing every minute of every day looks like magic hour. An honest image means heading out when nothing's flowering, nothing's blooming and nothing's having babies. An honest image is two does and a buck watching you work your way up the trail in grey-blue hour, wondering if you're there to kill them, and deciding your not.

The honest image means a natural color film. Not a digital camera. Not Velvia (though I do think honest images can be made on Velvia). The temptation with Velvia is to force it into the dishonest realm - to compromise it. Juice it. An honest image means no Photoshop monkey business. It means no pano's, no stitching, and for the love of all things good and right in the world, no HDR. An honest image means being intentional about the media you choose to record a scene that's chosen you. An honest image means no black and white conversions. It means no cropping your way to a good image. It means thinking in series, or working for the stand-alone, solitary shot that needs no caption, no tag line.

An honest image means medium format, 120 fine-grained, color negative film to capture every bit of nuance, every slight tonal variation, every bit of every square inch of everything in front of your fixed, focal-length (non-zooming) lens as you stand behind the tripod with the cable release in hand and trip the shutter. An honest image means waiting. It means looking intently for composition and it means missing. It means seeing a shot and not being able to frame it properly and passing it by, but allowing it to burn into your brain for next time.

Rawhide Power Plant, Northern Larimer County, Colorado

An honest image means it fits the subject matter. Northern Colorado and southern Wyoming aren't Disneyland. The land is muted, earthen hues. Greens, mauves, ochres, tans, cobalt blues, cadmium reds, burnt sienna's; big skies, small plants, ugly rocks and lots of wind. It's bright, sunny, high-altitude light out of dynamic range praying for a cloud to drift between the sun and the earth to make a shot. An honest image means driving for hours and stopping in the middle of an unmarked county dirt road to turn around to make a shot that you pray you can make before a car comes over the hill and...  because with the wind blowing and the hood on your Carhartt up you can't hear anything more than 3 feet away. An honest image means getting dusty and dirty kneeling down in the the ditch. It means chasing your hat across the prairie when the wind takes it.

Near Red Mountain Open Space, Northern Larimer County, Colorado

An honest image means no trespassing. It means closing gates behind you and honoring the mandate to stay on the trail - and missing the shot you want because you did. An honest image begins an hour before sun up and ends an hour after sun down. It means a last tilt of the thermos of tepid, too-strong coffee for something to drink at the end of the day. An honest image means washboard roads, AM talk radio, bugs in the radiator and chipped windscreens. It means nearly running out of fuel and paying too much a gallon at the nearly closed, sporting good-convenient store-fast-food chain-delicatessen-truck stop-fuel mart that smells like burnt coffee and is out of TP. 

An honest image means - above all else - joy. Peace. Solitude. Creative immersion. It means Discovery. An honest image is a very, very good thing.

Santa Fe, New Mexico-Christmas Lights in Gypsy Alley (2013)Gypsy Alley, Santa Fe, New Mexico (2013).
Kodak Portra 400

One of the greatest things about being a film photographer these days is the ability to create images both on film, then scan that film into the computer and have both analog and a digital versions of the image: a hybrid work flow it's sometimes called. There are plenty of reasons for doing this which others have articulated so I won't veer off course here. Being mostly a color film photographer, a number of years ago I realized I was somewhat addicted to the brilliant color and punch of the chrome films. In a sense, chrome film was the low-hanging fruit of the color film shooter's world - easy to scan because with the slide on the light box you began with a baseline of color to work with. Color negative film was a bit trickier in that regard - not being able to actually see the "right color" before beginning processing. But was it worth really diving in to figure it out? For a bunch of reasons I decided it was, and set about to figure it out. Recently in our Nikon F6 User Group on facebook someone asked about a Color Negative film work flow. I started to respond on facebook but the post got so long I decided to turn it into a blog post. Plus, I haven't written a blog post in so long I figured it was a good way to break the silence.

I don't pretend to be an expert, but I've been at it for a while and like anything else, you make mistakes along the way as you learn what works and what doesn't. I realized that as others return to shooting film they too may wonder how the heck you get started scanning the negatives into the computer. Someone else asked recently if you print the image  then lay the print on a flatbed scanner. This would make the scan a second generation away from the original; less desirable than a first generation scan from the negative. So the answer is no - you always want to scan from the negative. But how? Assuming you already have a computer, you also need a scanner and scanning software. For the latter, this description uses VueScan for the software, and the Nikon Super CoolScan 5000ED (otherwise referred to as the LS-5000) dedicated film scanner.

The first step below is geared towards a Portra work flow, which I find myself shooting more and more. Again, lots of reasons for this - but the key is to over expose it by at least 2/3 of a stop or even a full stop. I've found when shooting and scanning all the Portra films, every one of them responds favorably when you give it more light than it thinks it needs. The question is, how much more? That depends on the scene, but some general guidelines are listed below. So with that in mind here's how I get from a frame of negative film to a digital image in the computer:

Regarding the C41 (Color Negative) workflow, it goes something like this:

1) I almost always over expose color negative film by at least 1/3 a stop. So for Portra 160 I’ll shoot it at 100; for 400 I’ll shoot it at 320; for 800 I’ll shoot it at 640 or more recently 400. It's not an exact science and your mileage may vary, but I do this because after a lot of experimentation with scanning have seen the most successful scans are on the light side, producing less noise in the shadow areas of the film. And if you're worried about not getting true blacks, no fear: because you're digitizing the file, bringing back the blacks is an easy levels adjustment.

Cameron, Arizona (2013)Suspension bridge over the Little Colorado River, Cameron, Arizona (2013).
Portra 160 Cameron, Arizona (2013). Kodak Portra 160 at ISO100

2) I process straight. No push, no pull. So 160, 400 or 800 are processed at rated speed at the lab. I don’t develop the film myself, but send it to a local lab here in town, Digi-Graphics. They’re great. 

3) When the lab process and sleeves, I have them cut the film into strips of 4 to archive in my PrintFile 35-7B sleeves which fit nicely in 3-ring binders. For those reading who don't know this, the Nikon F6 generates EXIF data for every frame shot and captures it to a .txt file held in the camera's memory. Unfortunately you need the pretty expensive Nikon MV-1 reader to extract it from the camera to a CF card, then import the tiny, data file into the computer. So I export the Exif data from the camera, load it into the computer, then import the .txt file into an Excel spread sheet. I have the spread sheet set up as a multi-page workbook and save the rolls off in chunks of 25. So one Excel doc will have 25 sheets in it. This streamlines the excel files as the number of rolls grows. Once formatted in Excel I print the sheet, three-hole punch and place it in the binder on top of the two pages of sleeves containing those negatives. Nice and organized, easily findable by walking to the binder on the book shelf, grabbing the right one and opening to the right page.

4) One by one I’ll review each frame of a roll on the light box with a loop to decide which frames I want to scan. My keeper rate varies wildly. But it's usually higher than my digital photos.

5) Last year I switched to VueScan to run the Nikon LS5000 scanner. It takes a little trial and error at first, but I soon was able to establish consistent settings, allowing the maximum amount of data to be captured  during scanning. For me, the magical settings switch between a couple different combinations, depending on the image. Most of the time I use what VueScan calls Auto Levels. In a properly exposed frame it does a good job setting the initial white and black point, and rendering semi accurate colors. Every once in a while, though, I’ll switch to the White Balance setting. I find VueScan’s color settings less than predictable, to be honest - and tend to baseline everything with the intent of working on color in either Lightroom or Photoshop. Because I'm scanning a pretty flat interpretation of the image and it's 16-bit I know there's lots of data there to work with.

Cowdrey, Colorado (2013)Dodge pick up truck and skull, Cowdrey, Colorado.
© Copyright 2013 by John B. Crane. All rights reserved.
Kodak Portra 160 (exposed at ISO100, processed at rated160) Cowdrey, Colorado (2013) Kodak Portra 160 at ISO100

6) I'm a believer in doing something once, and doing it right. To that end, I always scan at the maximum resolution knowing that once a master image is created, I'll not need to scan it and rework it again-unless something unforeseen happens to the digital file. Scanning an image lower resolution, working on color, etc. thinking you can always scan it again later if you need it larger - is a waste of time. Storage is cheap, computers are fast. It's best to do it once, get the master image exactly how you want it, then down sample versions from it. Down sampling also produces a tighter, cleaner, sharper file. To borrow an analogy, if you were to take a survey amongst 10 people, you would get a data point. If you were to increase the number of people who take the survey to 100, you'll get a better representation of data. Increase the sample rate to 1,000 and even more so. You get the idea. So if you scan an image in at high resolution, then properly reduce it to a lower resolution, in theory it's a tighter, more precise representation of the scene because you're working with more data. So, I scan in 4,000ppi at 100% producing an image approximately 5,633 x 3,679 pixels. I scan right to the edge of the frame with the intent of getting every exposed pixel. The edges of the frame are uneven so I don’t always get every singe pixel, but it's close. I used to scan into the black borders of an uneven frame, then rotate and crop and clone in Photoshop, but it was too time consuming and I’ve opted instead now to just let the rectangular selection determine the edges of the image. Sometimes I lose a tiny bit, but it doesn’t matter. The point is I don’t crop in scanning - but get the entire image at full resolution. Incidentally, this is one of the reasons I don't have my chrome (slide) films mounted in slide mounts either. Especially when you're shooting a camera with such a big, bright, 100% viewfinder like the F6, I like to get the entire frame exposed in the camera.

7) I scan at 4,000ppi because I’ve read in various sources and believe that’s about the maximum, uninterpolated resolution of a 35mm frame. You can scan higher on some scanners, but it may be interpolating or making up data as it scans just to get the higher resolution. I’d rather have pure, clean, raw information to work with than interpolated information. I usually use VueScan’s IR Cleaning filter, which does a great job eliminating the worst dust and scratches. I set it to Light, or occasionally Medium. I almost never use any of the other filter settings, but lately have been experimenting with the sharpening in VueScan vs. the High Pass method mentioned below. I never use Grain Reduction, finding that for me, it removes too much character in the image. One of the reasons I love film is the character the grain introduces - so trying to neutralize it is counter productive. If I need to reduce grain later I'll do so in Photoshop with Noise Ninja.

Morton Pass, Highway 34, Wyoming (2014)Morton Pass, between Laramie and Wheatland along Highway 34, Wyoming (2014).

Morton Pass, Highway 34, Wyoming (2014). Kodak Portra 800 at ISO400

8) I scan to 16-bit, TIF files, uncompressed, producing about 125Mb file. I’ll then open that file in Photoshop and begin work. Each image receives the following Adjustment Layers, usually (but not always) in this order: 

a) Often the first thing I’ll do is duplicate the base image to make a High Pass layer. This effectively sharpens the edges within the image and affects the tones less. The pixel radius setting is resolution dependent so for the full resolution image I’ll often play with between 2 and 3 pixel radius and see which works best, then set the Layer Mode to Overlay. This produces a non-destructive sharpening of the image whose layer opacity can be adjusted independently later on. Unfortunately however, it doubles the size of the file, and at 16-bit you're now working with a 250mb file. So unless you have a pretty fast computer you may elect to reduce the image to 8 bit at this point. If the High Pass setting is too high it may produce the dreaded white halo effect around objects in the final image so it’s best to be conservative.

a) Levels make sure I have the black point and white point where I want them. To do this, I’ll put my finger on the Option Key (Mac) and drag the black slider in the levels histogram until I begin to see clipping. Sometimes I’ll push into the clipping a bit if I want a darker rendition of the image, other times I’ll just barely touch it. I’ll then do the same thing for the white point: finger on Option Key and drag the white slider in until I begin to see clipping over all, or in various channels. If need be I’ll also adjust the middle slider to work the gamma.

b) Photo filter: sometimes a warming filter to bring up a naturally cooler image, sometimes a cooling filter to bring out the blues. The filter depends on the image. Sometimes LBA, sometimes Warming 85, Cooling 82, LBB, etc. 

c) Either a Saturation or a Vibrance layer and work on the color. In most cases I don’t saturate above 15 - 20 points. Just enough to pop the color, but at least on my monitor, not into the garish zone. Sometimes I’ll push a little more.

d) Depending on the image I’ll put a brightness/contrast layer on to work the balance of the final image.

e) Depending on the image, it may require layer masks for any of the above layers or additional adjustment layers - effectively dodging and burning various portions of the frame. I’ll typically use one mask per adjustment layer and set the opacity of my pen tool 33% to 66% ( 1/3 stops) to build up a mask in successive strokes - not just use black. I always use a Wacom tablet and pen, finding a mouse far too cumbersome for such work.

8) I’ll use the Spot Healing brush and clone tool to remove the obvious scratches, film buggers or dust spots that VueScan’s IR cleaning filter missed. The goal for each image is to make the scan appear as close to the original scene as possible. To that end I don't retouch images beyond simple dust and scratches, and color/levels settings.

Leadville, Colorado (2011)WORKS, Leadville, Colorado (2011)
Portra 160VC exposed at ISO100 Leadville, Colorado (2011). Kodak Portra 160VC at ISO100

9) I’ll save off the full-resolution, 16-bit PSD, then create a lower-resolution 16-bit TIF version (with layers intact). For electronic presentation I have a set 3:2 aspect size (1,800 x 1,200 pixels) and like a modest, white border around the image, with small, unobtrusive text containing the location and date of the image below, flush left and right with the edges of the image. I have created frame templates for this basic presentation: one for vertical, one for horizontal. The goal is to have the images appear essentially the same size and shape so it’s the content of the frame the viewer is seeing - and not distracted by the shape of the image. I very much like the 3:2 aspect and stick with it. When I downsample the image I use Photoshop’s Bicubic Sharper setting, seeing a difference in the results over the other methods. For a long time I refused to crop the images at all in this step electing instead to set the dimensions at 1,200 x 1,8XX (whatever the organic width or height was), but have since relaxed that in favor of creating a standard, repeatable and consistent size/shape. In a case where cropping off the 30 or so pixels at the edge of a frame will hurt the image, I'll leave it. 

10) Once the image is at it’s final size (resolution) I’ll sharpen. I used to use the LAB method: convert the RGB image to LAB color space, grab the Lightness Channel, sharpen, then reconvert to RGB. I don’t do this anymore with Photoshop CC because I’m really liking the additional features within the Smart Sharpen filter. With Smart Sharpen often I’ll work the Amount, Radius and Noise sliders to a suitable balance. If I’ve done everything else correctly the settings remain pretty low. If not, here’s where I’ll try to fix it - but abhor overlay sharpened images. Typically the Amount of between 50% and 100%, a radius of .5 pixels and a reduce noise setting anywhere from 10% up to 30% or 40%. Sometimes for Portra 800 I’ve gone up to 50% until the overall effect is smooth and pleasing - without producing a overly de-noised image (at least to me).

11) The PSD is saved to a directory on the HD created before scanning. After much trial and error I've settled on specific, unique code for each roll shot. It goes something like this: F6-r0265-POR160 is the directory’s name. F6 identifies the camera. r0265 corresponds with the roll number in the camera-generated EXIF data. This is important when marrying up the individual frame's shooting data later. POR160 is a 6-character ID capable of identifying the emulsion of the roll. Each image that goes into that directory then begins with this code, then adds an fXX for frame number. So this image is F6-r0265-POR160-f25a.tif. This naming convention allows me to search the entire computer's 8TB pf storage for a unique, specific image at any time and produce the PSD, the TIF or the JPEG. I can also locate any EXIF data file.

12) I use Lightroom to catalog all images, leaving them in place on the HD and referencing their position. I’ll let LR stack the images so there only appears 1 image in a stack of 3 version. This keeps the overall LR presentation down as much as possible. More lately I've been using Lightroom's excellent processing tools to rework certain images after everything above has been done. I can see perhaps using LR exclusively in the future.

13) When I save off a JPEG for a specific use, sometimes I’ll re-size it. I’ll then throw it away after I’ve uploaded it for its purpose. I don’t like having a bunch of duplicate JPEG’s laying around.

Chugwater, Wyoming (2014)Years of old, weathered paint have chipped away to reveal the many colors this ancient hotel in Chugwater, Wyoming has been adorned with over the years (2014).
Kodak Portra 160 (exposed at ISO100, processed at rated160) Chugwater, Wyoming (2014). Kodak Portra 160 at ISO100

That's it. One image can take anywhere from 5 minutes to 15 or longer, depending on how much fiddling I need to do. The goal always though is to make it as good as it can be in the camera, understanding that the scan usually requires work to realize the images full potential. Some think it's crazy to spend this time scanning film images in this day of digital everything. I guess I don't agree with that - but respect the individual's decision to use whatever means which speaks to them best when it comes to creating art. For me, it's still film and will be until they stop making it.

Peace, JBC

I've been wanting to visit Grover since discovering the small, prairie town hiding on a map a few months ago. Located in Eastern Colorado's Weld County, Grover sits quietly off the more heavily traveled - but still inconspicuous - State Highway 14. If you find yourself in Grover it's because you've chosen to be there. Leaving Fort Collins sometime around 6:30 and doing the math to sunset (around 8:30) I figured I had time to wander out, take a look around in nice light and see what happens.

Grover, Weld County, Colorado

Images like this are why soon I'll need new brakes on the car. I've learned to drive about 10 miles an hour under the speed limit. Not only does it help save the brakes during sudden stops, it helps avoid animals suddenly appearing in the road. Small animals like birds or jack rabbits will always lose in a confrontation with a car. But antelope - and these guys - well, that's a different matter.  Driving slowly can annoy those behind me who are in a hurry - but I smile and wave as they finally get a dotted yellow line and zoom by. On the county roads leading to Grover there's no one in the rear view mirror when I look. 

Once again, quality of light wins the day. I've been thinking a lot about light lately as I'm pouring through hundreds - thousands - of images for 4042n Project. The image above is a great example. An hour earlier this is a completely different scene. An hour later - even more different. I used to stress out about this. I'd wander around with a low-grade anxiety about where I was, and when. Once you understand how subtle shifts in light either enhance or detract from an image there's no going back to just settling - you'r always looking for that perfect light. But trying to orchestrate every image in perfect light simply isn't possible. 

While out wandering scenes often present themselves in poor light forcing a decision - which needs to be processed immediately: is the subject matter strong enough to survive in poor light? What time is it? Is this a strong enough scene I'm willing to stop and wait for great light? Is it worth circling back for later? Would black and white film make this image better? How about filtering? Is the scene 90° (or there about) to the sun's direction and could a polarizer salvage the sky? Would an ND Grad help or hurt this image? A warming filter? Will the subject still be there when I stop - or will sudden activity scare whatever I'm hoping to photograph away? Is it safe? Does that matter? What lens would create the best composition (I probably will only have one shot at it)? Will a tripod be necessary or can it be hand held? What speed film is loaded into which back? Or - is this one of those images never created as the mind quickly considers these variables at 40 mph and - as a result - the foot never hits the brake pedal. In the case above, the car grinds to a halt in the middle of an otherwise serene, empty, Weld County evening and the dice are rolled.

Often times I have the camera in the front seat, loaded and ready. This time it's in the back of the car requiring I get out (1 door open and thud - closed), open the hatch back (a second thud in the otherwise serene evening) and by now the bison have stopped eating and are looking at me, beginning to reposition themselves. The light is strong but has begun to diffuse, well en route towards the horizon but sill high enough above to produce the gorgeous quality only it can. Haze hovering above rural lands to the west spreads and colors the light just enough to prevent the harsh, glaring, high-altitude blast so common here in Colorado. It's just about the perfect time of day for a late-June image here in northern Colorado: between 7:30 and 8:30pm. The bison are curious when I approach as close as I dare. Both arc their tails - a sign of something I'm sure, but I don't know what. I thought they were going to pee - but thankfully they didn't (I didn't want to have to Photoshop that out). I focus the stout RZ67 hand held, and go for broke. Thunk. The bison are now in motion, away (thankfully) as I advance and try two more frames - a bust as the bison march west, towards the light. As the camera swings with them the sky lightens as the brighter, western sky begins to encroach on the viewfinder and I know it's over. But I think the first frame was a good one.

Grover, Weld County, Colorado

As I packed up and headed into town light quality improved even more. This oil and gas field just out of town was a fascinating site. As far as the eye could see, a fine layer of dust - kicked up by heavy tanker-truck activity along the dirt roads - hovered above the ground. At fist it appeared as a morning dew might; a light haze clinging close to the ground producing an intriguing effect on everything it came to rest on. Then another tanker truck passed and I watched the flow of dust it displaced off the road. It was airborne briefly, drifted a bit in the stillness of the evening, and settled out in the field. When I looked at this image I first thought the foreground "stripes" were caused by banding - a digital artifact created when the tones of the image are compressed too much. Then I checked the negative (this is a medium format film image, not a digitally made image) and saw the foreground stripes in the negative are really rows of dirt lined up in the foreground with dandelion heads.

Grover, Weld County, Colorado After a while the magic ended; the western sky fading from a kaleidoscope of color to the gentle blues and grays that mark the back edge of dusk. Birds sing, bugs buzz and moths flitter about outside and inside the car, attracted by the dome light. Half a mile away the occasional pair of headlights appears on the horizon and passes, my presence going unnoticed. This time is one of the most peaceful, beautiful times of day and I relish it. The shooting is over. I pack things up, making sure i have each lens, each back, filter, cable release accounted for. The tripod returns to the comfort and safety of its case. If I'm lucky enough to have a good cigar with me, now's the time to enjoy it as I sit on the open tail gate and watch.

Grover, Weld County, Colorado

As the sky darkened I watched the flame at the small, nearby tank farm and thought how nice it looked against the darkening blue. Back out came the tripod, cable release and camera, and "thunk," one more frame is made.

Learning how to relax and enjoy the moment happened once I accepted the following: finding oneself in great light in an improbable location - one you'd never have planned - is a good way to produce some beautiful, naturally lit spontaneous images. At best, blessed if the world opens itself up revealing an image to me. At worst, the day being a wonderful outing in Colorado's natural beauty; what I learned perhaps valuable to some future engagement. Just being "out there" is its own reward. The images are a bonus.

That was my day in - and my introduction to - Grover, Colorado.

Longmont, Colorado (2012) This first shot was made on the way home from a family event on Sunday, just north of highway 66 in Longmont, Colorado. This truck has been sitting in this field for as many years as I've been driving back and forth between Longmont and Fort Collins (many years), and I've always thought it a little unusual. This past Sunday the light was perfect. Dark skies always catch my eye, and the strong, Colorado sun was hitting the old, dilapidated siding just right. I pulled over, scrambled down the irrigation ditch and hopped what was left of the old, pushed-down barbed wire fence to get my shadow out of the shot. As usual, the F6 Matrix metered everything perfectly and Portra held the highlights in the sun-drenched western wall. As large and cumbersome as the Nikkor 28-70 is, it's sure a functional lens. Stop it down to ƒ8-11 and you almost can't make a bad image with it. But what really sets this image apart for me is the sky. There's real, subtle intrigue in the sky - and much of that is Portra. It's organic; somehow alive. And the greens in the foreground give the image something earthy. Portra handled all of it.

Here's another Portra image made last summer:

Arriba, Colorado (2011) When I uploaded the first image into my F6 gallery, I immediately thought of this shot as a likely predecessor in succession.  These two are good examples of where I'm heading. The obvious visual tie-ins are the green foreground, low horizon, dramatic sky... vehicle(s). What really links them, though, again is Portra's color balance, natural bias's and grain structure.  The image immediately above is Portra 400 (at rated 400). The color is - to me and my eyes - wonderful. It's subdued, not bombastic and garish. It's much more "real" than say, Velvia or Ektachrome 100VS (we'll get to that wonderful emulsion in a later post). Portra carries with it - again, to me - a sense of America. I don't know what it is, exactly - but it's there. Add to it the organic quality of the 160 grain and you've got something that's authentic. Touchable.

Here's another one, made in Pine, Wyoming late last year. This is 120 film made with the Mamiya. You can see the same tendencies, the same look and feel:

Pine Bluffs

So Portra for landscapes - despite the overwhelming preponderance of the high-saturation, high-contrast chrome films - is becoming much more appealing to me. As Kodak mentions in their on-line literature, Portra scans very well. Kodak surmised that today's film shooter is more than probably scanning their frames more often then using enlargers. With this in mind, they specially formulated Portra for scanning. I can see a difference between it, and the old NC/VC frames. Kodak also claims it has a saturation level more balanced toward the older NC (Natural Color) as opposed to the Vivid Color (VC) strain. I'll say, however, that it is more saturation latitude to my eye than NC and not quite as much as VC. Here's a VC frame from last year:

Leadville, Colorado

This was 160VC shot at 100, which I'm pretty convinced is a good idea. While Portra has tons of latitude in exposure, like every other digitally processed image noise can always find a way in if permitted - especially at the under exposed areas of the image. I'm of the opinion that if you provide lots of light for ample exposure, then set good black and white points in processing, you'll get a higher quality final print. I think this image has more punch to it than straight up Portra would provide. But that's OK. For the occasions when that's desired, Kodak's Ektar is a good choice.

A brief word about color negative film vs. chrome (slide) films:

A look through any of my galleries bares witness to my use of the chrome films. The most common being Velvia, though I've briefly rediscovered Ektachrome 100VS - just in time for Kodak to discontinue it. However, I'm finding more often in general shooting situations I'm reaching for color negative films over the chrome films for a few key reasons. 1) Exposure latitude is phenomenal. Negative film, scanned full resolution at 16-bit is an incredible thing. Image features I know would blow or be buried on my digital sensor are right there, even shooting the mighty Nikon D3s which has tons of exposure latitude in its RAW images to begin with. And in a digital workflow, data is king - and negative film carries tons of it. 2) Cost. When you shoot as much film as I do, cost matters. Getting chrome film processed runs between $16-$18 per roll at my favorite lab. They use great E6 equipment and it's worth it when I need to be sure a roll is processed right. But C41 comes in at $4/roll, $5 if you have the roll cut into strips of 4 - which are easier to store. That's 3 or 4 rolls of film processed C41 for the cost of one roll of E6. That matters. 3) Full frame. I know I don't need to have my slides mounted, but I do anyway. It's how my storage system is set up. And I sure don't want to mount them myself (I'd rather be out shooting). When slides are mounted they obscure the edges of the frame. When you shoot a camera employing a 100% viewfinder like the Nikon F6 you're not seeing the same thing in the final image that you saw in your viewfinder. This might seem piddly, but can make a significant difference in the impact of the final image. 4) The slide-mounts also conceal the exif data my F6 writes between frames. Not a huge deal - I have the MV-1 to retrieve the data from the camera and store in an Excel spread sheet. But it can be handy to view on screen in a per-image basis, too.  5) Lastly, I don't know if it's old age or what, but I'm finding myself preferring a bit more natural color palette. The Chrome film I've been shooting for years will always resonate with me - I love color. But lately there are times that a more natural treatment of what's before me is preferred, and for that, once again Portra is a wonderful choice. Another benefit is that, for some reason, the image looks less "digital."

Add it all up, and Portra is an emulsion I'm hoping Kodak keeps around for many years to come. I'm always on the look out for deals to stock pile my freezer with, and Kodak's new Portra is now at the top of that list.

Next time I'll cover Portra and how it responds to flash.

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Following up on this topic of improvising a few weeks back, I was thinking about another example how important being able to not settle for "auto-everything" can be. I'm the lucky owner of the amazing Nikon D3S, arguably the best low-light camera available today. Sometimes even that, though, isn't enough to get the shot you want.p554533093-2

Here's the setting: we were eating dinner in a rather dark restaurant in Gonaives. The table across from us had a group of UN police officers traveling throughout the country preparing for the upcoming elections. I had the opportunity to chat with one of them, Eddy from Lithuania, earlier in the hall and struck up a good conversation. We'd passed their convoy of 20+ Nissan pick up's and SUV's various times throughout the trip and now here they were, sitting across from us having dinner. Fun bunch. Having asked one of the guys earlier if he'd like a group shot before they head out the next morning, I wiped the goat off my beard, grabbed my camera and went over to sit with them for a bit. One thing led to another and pretty soon we were making images.

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So last night upon returning home from our third Haiti team meeting I checked the mail and was surprised to find the new issue of Wyoming Wildlife already. Back in November a few images were submitted to their 2010 Annual Photo Competition and while not exactly having forgotten about it, it had wandered to the back of the mind. Opening the magazine I found one of the images won first place in the Scenic/Pictorial category. Pretty tickled, thinking back to making the image...

In October 2009 we'd been planning a backpacking trip to the Wind River Mountains over a September birthday but at the last minute had to scrub it due to work. A month later feeling the need to get out my wife suggested a couple car camping nights instead. Remembering a year prior a fellow photographer in Wyoming provided a tip on the Red Desert. A look at the map showed it was easily attainable in the 48 hour window.

By the end of that night I was curled up in the back of the Trib parked somewhere in the dark, and at least hoped - close to the Boars Tusk- my target for sunrise. The Boars Tusk is an eroded remnant of a volcanic neck composed of lamproite and located in the middle of Killpecker Creek Valley, 25 miles north of Rock Springs in Sweetwater County, Wyoming. Rising like a monument from a 6 mile wide otherwise flat valley, it was called on an earlier Hayden Survey map "The Sentinel," and also referred to at one point as "Rock Point." No matter what you call it, it's the biggest thing around and what I was hoping to catch for first light.

5:45 the next morning. Once again the alarm on the iPhone didn't go off and it was much later than planned. Falling out of the back door of the car scrambling to get shoes on, splashing water on the face, then climbing in the driver's seat and bouncing back up the terrible "road" clunked up the night before. Glancing east showed there was a little time before the sun broke the horizon but not much.

Not sure what to look for… not exactly a lot of road signs in the middle of the Sweetwater County desert and you need to keep your eyes peeled. According to the map we're looking for a right turn not more than a half mile from camp. Straining to see anything that resembled a road through the brush but seeing only a faint, soft-sand double track disappearing up an incline, no signage of any kind... pass it up searching for something more promising.

Well, turns out that was it. 15 minutes/a few miles later finally turning around, deciding to take a chance. The Subaru heaves and groans through deep sand but makes it, cresting the burm to a leveler, firmer double track where the Boars Tusk penetrates the horizon what looks about 2 miles ahead. It's getting lighter and the Subaru thumps and scrapes against the high center of deep double track. Scanning the remaining road in the distance my heart sinks as I realized it only worsens; deep ruts of soft sand vanishing into the scrub with a prominent strip of stout, Wyoming earth between them, sure to high center if not careful. The rear view mirror shows an eastern horizon igniting and I know what it means. Had I driven all this way for nothing? A classic case of so close yet so far. My head runs through what could have - should have - been done differently - better.

Risking getting hopelessly stuck in the middle of nowhere hours by foot from anything even remotely resembling help - I bring the car to a halt, open the door and climb into sweet morning breeze. Walking to the next rise and watching the sun's first rays ignite the Boars Tusk - a dark, purple and blue sky behind amplifying the gorgeous reds and oranges leaping from the distant rock flanks... I make a point of burning the image into my mind while it lasts - my camera back in the car 10 yards away. Oh well, at least I saw it and was this close.

Like so many western sunrises, as the earth rotates and finally allows the sun to clear the last obstacle on the horizon, only a few brief moments of clear sky permit unobstructed glory igniting everything in its path before climbing just a bit higher and disappearing again behind the strip of clouds. I watch my shot happen before my eyes, empty handed but smiling. Once the cloud bank engulfed the upward traveling sun, gray spread over the desert again and there I was. I heard birds, smelled the morning, felt the breeze… it was utter peace. I turned and looked at the car and remember thinking, "man, I hope I didn't push in too far in… I hope I don't get stuck now. How am I gonna get out of here anyway? Do I have to back out the mile of double track I just came down?… I looked back at the Boars Tusk, now a muted rust with diffused light, and noticed the sky anew. The gentle angle of the cobalt blue, morning cloud front tapering perfectly to the tip of the Tusk, and wow, what gorgeous pinks lay beyond… my eyes dropped to the scrub before me noticing how the muted, autumn golds and greens played off that sky…

Finally decided to get my camera out and make a few frames any way - just because. It wasn't the shot I had in mind the whole drive up but it sure was unfolding into its own beauty. And it's still, after all, Wyoming's Red Desert. Open a fresh roll of Velvia, load the 120 back on the RZ, spot and incident meter with my Sekonic L-758DR, mount the RZ on the tripod, screw in the M-up release. Thunk. Click. Done.

I thought I knew what I was shooting for. As it turns out, circumstances dictated otherwise. God provided the perfect scene, then placed me in the perfect position to capture it. He provided the light, the camera, the film, the eyes, whatever little creativity I posess, the health, the car, the time… as well as everything else necessary to make this image. Romans 1:20 says, "for since the creation of the world, God's invisible qualities - his eternal power and divine nature - have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." Amen to that, and to God be the glory.

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A•BAN•DON
–verb (used with object)
1. to leave completely and finally; forsake utterly; desert: toabandon one's farm; to abandon a child; to abandon asinking ship.

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2. to give up; discontinue; withdraw from: to abandon aresearch project; to abandon hopes for a stage career.

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3. to give up the control of: to abandon a city to an enemyarmy.

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4. to yield (oneself) without restraint or moderation; give(oneself) over to natural impulses, usually without self-control: to abandon oneself to grief.

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5. Law . to cast away, leave, or desert, as property or a child.

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6. Insurance . to relinquish (insured property) to theunderwriter in case of partial loss, thus enabling the insuredto claim a total loss.

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7. Obsolete . to banish.

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I've been shooting a good bit of Ektar lately. At first it was a bit of a novelty - just to try something different than the Fuji chrome films I've become so used to working with. Provia and Velvia are staples. But in the quest to further define my photographic vision I've been doing a lot of experimentation.

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Sunset on Interstate 80, extreme western Nebraska - Kodak Ektar

One of the pleasant surprises is the reduced cost in development. Less than half of the chrome films. And at similar pricing for the roll from the store, when you start shooting a lot of it, things can add up quickly.

 

The one and only drawback I've experienced has been re-adjusting my workflow without a meaningful color base to start from. At first I was getting 4x5 proofs from the lab with my negatives, but they really didn't do me much good. In just about every case I'll send film out, then scan the negs I wish to work with here in the studio. I'd supposed the proof was better than nothing, but they kick the cost up substantially and I ended not using their interpreation of the image for anything other than a hard copy for filing purposes. The real image begins to emerge with the 16-bit RGB scan.

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Rainy staircase, Galena, Illinois - Kodak Ektar

But-since everything is an interpretation of the original scene, influenced by every step along the way including contrast/color cast bias of the optics, the film batch, the processing, the scan, etc. - I figure hey, I was there... I know what it's supposed to look like. I can take it from here...

If you're going to shoot color film it's extremely important to be able to balance the color precisely how you want it (not how someone else thinks it should be). The overall mood swing of an image can be dramatically affected by very minute changes in color balance. Ektar seems to have tremendous latitude in its ability to reproduce color.

You don't shoot Ektar (or Velvia, for that matter) if you're aim is accurate skin tones and such. For such projects you might struggle with Ektar (though I'm dying to try some portraits with it)... but really, that's what the Portra 160NC is for. NC stands for Natural Color. Ektar is not natural color. On our planet, anyway. But it surely can be wrestled in as conservatively as you care to stick it to the matte. No-Ektar is all about vivid color representation and I don't know about you all, but that's what I want to see in a sunrise or sunset image. Vivid color.

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Sunset on old growth forest and wetlands, Iowa River, Iowa - Kodak Ektar

 

Something else about Ektar I just love is its exposure latitude compared to the Chrome film. The shot above is a great example. If you look at the negative there's barely any information at all contained in the middle trees section. The way Ektar so adeptly handled the soft, subtle transitions of the clouds and mist, retained information in the trees - without chrome noise- didn't blow the sky and essentially contained useable information in just about every millimeter of the frame just blew my mind. My digitals would have given up on this image, even my D3S - as capable as it is. This image used a 2-stop ND Grad for the sky so you still need to shoot well and use your head - Ektar isn't a miracle worker. But if you do shoot well and use good technique, this film is spectacular.

Having the top image drum-scanned (Tango drum scan by West Coast Imaging) really gave it a chance to see what all was there to work with). I actually had to knock the saturation back from the drum scan, once I set my white and black points and tone curve... the raw color that came out of the frame was just a little too intense. But it's there, with no clipping, no noise, waiting to be revealed.

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Last light on grain elevator, Dike Iowa - Kodak Ektar

No mention yet of grain. It's simply a non-issue. There is no discernible grain. Not that I'm bothered by the look of film - I love it. But with Ektar, if you're looking for any noticeable grain you're wasting your time.

 

Now in all fairness, this is 120 Ektar I'm talking about. I've run a few 35mm rolls through my F6 too, but haven't really given it a fair shake. Though I can't imagine the results are much different than the 120 stock this article is focused completely on - using the 6x7 RZ 120 back. And I'm shooting at the rated 100 for now... perhaps that will be the next level of experimentation, to fiddle with speeds and see what happens. Give some a try. If you like vivid color, lower cost at the lab and no discernible grain structure, you're going to love Kodak Ektar.

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There's a stretch of road in Utah I try to drive during daylight. If I come upon it at night I'll pull over and wait. It's that beautiful. It begins just out of Torrey heading south on Utah highway 12 towards Boulder. The road travels up and over aspen-infested mountain passes, through Dixie National Forest, amidst a surrounding sea of red desert. I'm sure I shorten the Subaru's brake life when I travel this road. I'll be cruising along at highway speeds, see something I want to explore, check my rear-view mirror, and slam on the brakes to check it out. A half-hour later I'll dump my gear back into the car, check my watch and think, "O.K., that was worth it, but now I really have to hustle..." only to repeat this sequence innumerable more times. This is one of the main reasons, I believe, why Annie and Matthew have stopped traveling with me when I make these trips-and I can totally see why. Heck-it even drives me nuts. But when it's there in front of you, how do you turn your back on it? I have to stop. Have to. So I do. Again, and again and again and again.

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At one point near the top I happened to look down along a boulder-strewn drainage as it passed beneath the road and saw something I wanted to explore. I pulled over, geared up and headed down a steep, bolder-littered creek bed a few hundred feet beneath the road into shimmering, effervescent, autumn-color-filtered forest light. Some large bolders teetered as my weight bore down on them, others stayed still. My tripod hung over my shoulder and I did my best to steady myself with my other hand, but there was nothing to grab onto. I just took it slow. Finally I was deposited in the middle of a sunken bolder field below the road, partially obscured by forest. It was noticeably cooler here out of the sun at moderate elevation and I zipped my neck closed a bit.

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What I thought would have made a cool photograph ended up not. But, I was there and so I just stood for a moment. Cars occasionally passed by on the road above, but for the most part I was left alone in the cool quiet.

I don't know how much time passed down in that ravine but eventually I snapped out of it and headed back up, slowly, carefully, until I reached the pavement 150 feet above. Now I really needed to hustle...

I'd spent enough time in Dixie that stopping at some of the other spots was going to have to wait. There was, however, one exception: Kiva Coffee house for a late morning Americano. The taste of bad hotel coffee had been purged and I had my sites set on something better. It was Tuesday morning. I wasn't at work, and I was thirsty.

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Kiva Coffee House sits on a beautiful, lonely stretch of Utah desert Highway 12 just out of Escalante. If you're not looking it's easy to miss the sign. Nestled down beneath the road, you can see it on the approach from below (the north), but once you go up around the bend it's nothing but a rock & stucco sign by a gravel driveway. Not remembering exactly where it was (having only been once before) my eyes were straining to spot the long, earthen words spelling, "Kiva Coffee House..." then to my horror just below, "closed Tuesdays." Oh no...

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I pulled over and sat in the gravel drive for a moment, engine running, gathering my thoughts. I'd really been anticipating good coffee as I'd pushed on, and now this - this travesty, this disaster. I hung my head in sorrow... Then, after remembering that wouldn't actually re-open the Kiva Coffee House, I collected myself and headed back onto the pavement.

It feels somehow inappropriate to recant the following, but given the circumstances it was necessary. The rest of the drive that day was pretty much just that-a drive. While I passed through some absolutely spectacular land, I was afterall on a mission: to reach Springdale in time to get my booties, and my permit for tomorrow's hike. I sped past the turn off to Kodachrome Basin, Bryce Canyon National Park and so many other beckoning scenes I lost count, promising I'd be back to spend time there.

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After a long pull I found myself sitting at the Mount Carmel Junction gas station doing a trash dump as the Subaru filled his thirsty tank. I'd made it. Only a few miles to travel, along the spectacular Mount Carmel Highway that will deliver me to my end goal: Zion National Park.

Through the official eastern entrance to Zion where I stopped to renew my Annual National Parks pass, I headed towards the tunnel. For those unfamiliar with the main tunnel in Zion that connects the "east side" with the rest of the park, I'd encourage an exploration of the topic on Wikipedia or another site. It's truly an amzaing feat of engineering-especially considering when it was built. The net effect is this: you head west from Mount Carmel Junction towards Zion, and ultimately pass through a tiny tunnel scooped out of over a mile of mountain, emerging on the other side to the main canyon of Zion National Park.

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As you're driving through the narrow, dark tunnel, there were "windows" blasted out used to dump rock as they tunneled. It's difficult to describe, but there's this sense of hurtling through a hole, emerging on the other side into this magical world, much like, I'd imagine, Alice experienced as she took the plunge through the rabbit hole into Wonderland.

I made the National Park Visitor Center before closing and spoke with the rather serious gentleman behind the counter who warned me of what I was getting into tomorrow. He made me sign a few papers and handed me a small, sticky note parking pass I was to put on the dash of the Trib tomorrow. A quick trip to the mountain shop yielded my neoprene booties, then it was off to Under the Eves B&B, which would be my home for the next 5 nights in Springdale. The fun was only just beginning... but I was here. I'd made it.

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Day 2 started at 4am with bad hotel-room coffee in Torrey, Utah. I jammed both the little coffee sponges into the coffee maker in an effort to bring some semblence of life to the anticipated feeble brew, but to no avail. Coffee is huge for me and this trip I'd left my traveling french press at home, not wanting to carry water-boiling kit with me. I was smacking my forehead right about how. But this too would pass.

Coming in late the night before I'd been scanning the road for targets (in the dark) and tentatively settled on Capital Reef's Gooseneck Overlook for no reason other than I liked the "overlook" part, and it seemed as though it was an east-west running valley, which could be good in morning light. I packed the Trib and headed out into the dark, cold desert morning under a clear and starry sky. This was going to be great.

 

Sunrises: so many people squander sunrise. It's so much easier to just stay in bed and sleep, no doubt. But sunrise and sunset are my favorite times to shoot-and of the 2, sunrise wins. Yes, it's tough to get up sometimes, but never have I been sorry I did.

Capitol Reef National Park is one of the undiscovered gems of the American Southwest, though it has been enjoying more visitors over recent years as it slowly becomes known. It's a beautiful place-and huge. You can spend a lot of time there driving, hiking and shooting. My time was limited this morning-it was a stop along the way and part of my on-going effort when I travel to both begin and end each day some place beautiful. This morning it was Gooseneck Overlook.

 

Turning off paved road I headed up the mile-long dirt road watching for jack rabbits and dear in the headlights until I hit the parking area to find myself the only car. A welcome relief after the rock star hoopla of Goblin Valley the night before. Loading up the PhotoTrekker and heading out under headlamp up the dark canyon rim trail I noticed signs everywhere warning about exposure to steep cliffs and fatal falls. Tension emerged as I imagined a headline in the local paper the following day describing my shattered body on the canyon floor below, "photographer falls to his death off Gooseneck Overlook..." I reached up and rocked my headlamp down a bit to show more of the trail in front of my feet. I swiped a runny nose with my gloved hands.

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Gooseneck Overlook looks down on Sulphur Creek, well above (1,000 ft) the canyon floor. The short trail terminates at a fenced-off outcrop and I put my pack down and turned my light off. The wind was stiff and I folded the collar up on my jacket against it. My hands-already clothed in the LowePro gloves Annie had just given me for my birthday-buried deep in my pockets. It was beautiful, even in the dark-and cold. The canyon I was looking out over had multiple levels of colored rock and dirt all exposed by the creek, and I stood there marveling a bit before thinking about what I was going to target before sun-up.

After gawking a bit the heavy pack went back on my shoulders and I took off up the rim, off the trail, watching my footing carefully. There was no overt danger. As long as I stayed in from the rim 10-20 feet or so there was nothing to worry about. The problem was, you couldn't see anything from there. I edged closer to the rim, no railings, headlamp on, just being careful. Finally the light had come up and my field of vision expanded enough that I could turn my headlamp off. Stopping there in the coming dusk I heard my breathing, felt the weight of the pack, and thought about the hotel room coffee-it wasn't good, but it got me out here. I smiled big, deeply happy.

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Tripods: Some who don't do it might wonder why others shoot with tripods so often. This light right here and now is why. While most people can hold there camera still enough at fast enough shutter speeds in the bright sunlight, that's not typically what makes great photos of the land. It's the hours of the day that light is hard to find (morning and evening), and when you do, there's not much of it. This low light means longer shutter speeds, which means you can no longer hand-hold the camera still for say, 1/30 second and slower. Enter the tripod and cable release. 

 

On the rim, close to the edge, there weren't many trees. This makes walking with the tripod easier as well. I usually don't carry my camera on my tripod when it's slung over my shoulder like this. There are too many trees, rocks and other perils that can whack it right off the head and smash it on the ground. Party's over just like that. So I carry my tripod but no camera over my shoulder most of the time, and it takes one arm to do so. This leaves one arm for steadying yourself with a walking stick (usually a telescoping ski pole) if you use one, or to catch your fall should you. I prefer having both hands free, especially in the dark, just in case. But it was light enough this morning that I felt comfortable what I was doing.

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The rest of the pre-dawn morning turned into a slow amble up a gentle slope that was the canyon rim, peering over, shooting, stopping, wondering, praying, and just having a sweet, peaceful morning as the sun rose higher toward the distant horizon where it would eventually break through the darkness and ignite everything under it, changing the flavor of the day until sundown so many hours later. The moon had been full the previous night and it hung there motionless, opposite the corner of the sky the sun would occupy, seeming to bow to what it knew was coming: he was Lord of the Night, moving off in preparation for Lord of the day to come. The wind was gone now, temperatures were up, safety was assured and any earlier tension was gone. I took my coat off, left my gloves and hat on, and kept going.

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Gently, slowly, the dusk light began revealing utterly unspeakable things and I shot. And shot. And shot. And shot. Everywhere I looked I saw something else-the way the pink, indirect light was revealing cracks in old trees, the color the light briefly turned the dirt on the ground, the pocks in rim rocks... even now as I remember it I drift back into it and wonder how anyone can deny we have a genius Creator... who can't not be beautiful. Sometimes moments catch you off guard and rock your soul-blindside you with beauty and awe with no preparation, no time to process-they're just there and you're there and there you both are and man-wow. I stood there and watched and inside I cried it was so pretty I just couldn't stand it.

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When people look at a picture I shot, maybe they see something special - maybe they don't. It almost doesn't matter -though I always hope they do. But what I see is this morning, this moment, this glimpse of who my God is, sticks with me-it's preserved. Not captured, just preserved-so I can refer back to it when I wonder, or need to re-juice on Him. My God-it's so beautiful. And I'm so sorry others don't see you the way I see you here, now. Thank you more than I can-for your mercies on us, your grace, your beauty and numerous beautiful gift to us-for this beautiful scar we call the earth.

If you could imagine, the day only got better from here. But I'll save that for another time.

 

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I'm at the brink of making a rather important, large decision in terms of kit. After shooting the Nikon 400mm/2.8 in last year's National Fly Fishing Championship I've been forever smitten with big glass. I read on DPReview aftterwards a guy saying, "don't ever, ever rent big glass until you're ready to buy it." Big glass, for the un-initiated in photo-speak, for our purposes here equates to the line of "super telephoto" lenses Nikon puts out. They're big, beautiful and very, very expensive.

Having tucked away budget for such a purchase one rainy day, beautiful clouds are beginning to form overhead and I'm smelling that rain smell. That day is drawing near. Based on the type of shooting I do - if one could classify such a thing - I'm attempting to draw some logical conclusions. However, I'm also keenly interested in what the "illogical," passion-evoked voice of my heart has to say, and eager to distill all that noise and information down into some semblance of an actionable decision. In other words, wants and needs, left and right, heart and mind, must come to some sort of agreement.

I've narrowed it down to 4 primary contenders, with a long shot 5th contender if my Powerball ticket comes in big (just kidding-I don't gamble), presented here in order of favored consideration:

1. Nikon 200-400/f4/VR


2. Nikon 300mm/2.8/VR + TC


3. Nikon 200mm/2/VR + TC


4. Nikon 400mm/2.8/VR +TC


5. Nikon 600mm/4/VR

Yesterday before heading to the ballpark for the Rockies/Pirates game, I made a deal with my son. The deal was, we were heading to the camera store to do some research first. The goal was to get my hands on the 2 front runners and do a side-by-side comparison using my primary camera, the Nikon D300. If he'd be patient with me while I did my "research," I'd make sure he  had a wonderful night at the ball park (read below's entry for how this promise was fulfilled).

The camera store in this case was downtown Denver's Wolf Camera, on California Street. Wolf Camera downtown has been an excellent partner over the years. Corey Anderson, the manager has been extremely helpful whenever I've needed gear, and Chris, one of my favorite salesmen, is always willing to help however he can when I come down. 

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Nice, young couple enjoying a pleasant Saturday afternoon stroll down California Street, downtown Denver.

I prefer to purchase my gear new when I can, and to purchase it from a brick-and-mortar store when I can. The reasons are the following:

1. I like to get my hands on something before committing to purchasing it. When you order on-line, you of course can't do this unless you actually purchase, then return it if you don't like it. I prefer not to do this. Shipping costs, restocking fees, opened boxes for other buyers, delays in refunds, hassles back and forth, risk... all tip the scales for me. It's just not my way of doing things.


2. If a brick-and-mortar store is going to go through the expense of keeping an item on the floor so I can come down and inspect it before purchasing, I feel it right to help support their ability to do so any way I can. Walking into a store to inspect an item, then walking out and buying it on-line isn't something I'll normally do. I value the knowledge and wisdom of the experienced sales force and am more than happy to help support them. After all, we're all in this together. Andy Horton at Mike's Camera in Boulder is another great resource. Andy helped me through my NPS membership and has been very helpful in other areas as well.


3. New gear comes with a warranty, used gear does not. New gear doesn't have ebay woes associated with it. New gear has the highest probability of being "perfect" right out of the box (if there is such a thing). Used gear-well, you never know what you're gonna get.


4. I tend to buy a piece of gear and keep it forever. I'm not a turn-and-burn guy. Uh-oh, I hear the "sensitive artist" creeping up to the keyboard here-hold on a moment...
   
   "hi-I'm John's aesthetically-enabled alter ego. While he's off commiserating about the practical, logical, sensible stuff (someone has to do it), I'm considering things like look & feel, touch, weight, smell, usability, overall impressions, gut feelings, wow-factor, X-factor, "just plain coolness," and other more subjective aspects of such an important decision. Tying this in with the gear point, let's just say for now that it's not unusual to build an attachment to a piece of gear. Especially when you use it - a lot. Think about it... When you use a camera you hold it up to your face, it presses against your nose, often times bending it to the side slightly... and now your LCD display (or back of your film camera) has an oily nose-print on it. Eyelashes sometimes find their way into the viewfinder, and when it's cold and your nose is running... well, just plain eewwww...
   
   On a long lens, you heft and balance its weight in an attempt to get it to sit still and cooperate; when transporting it you might cradle it in your arms because it's valuable; you feel it with the tips of your fingers and the palms of your hands bare its weight - it has temperature, mass. Brassing and rub marks adorn heavily used items like badges and battle scars. On the used market these are detriments, but when they're caused by your hands and oily nose they mean something positive-bring back memories, evoke feelings.
   
   Your gear has a unique piece of identification associated with it. A birth certficate (warranty sheet), a serial (SS?) number. It's unique. Yes, it may be one of 10,000 or so created in a manufacturing run, but this one is special. It's yours. It has micro differences in coatings, alignment, AF motor noise and vibration, exterior features and other subtle differences that, if you put it in a group of its peers, you might just be able to pluck yours out and say, "here it is."
   
   Equipment becomes familiar, predictable. When it needs repair, you send it off to the doctor. When it returns, you're glad it's back, healthy again. "Put me in coach, I'm ready to play," it says proudly as you unpack it and the bubble wrap & peanuts fall away. All this to say, I tend not to part with kit once I make a spot in the crate for it. Think I'm kinda nuts? Let me ask you this: have you ever asked yourself why you like something? Think about it. Gotta go"...


5. OK-sorry about that. He's gone now-drives me crazy sometimes... Back to the practical stuff: the last reason is that if something goes wrong with it after getting it home, I can hop in the car, drive it down and get a new one. Just like that. Here's an example. When I bought my 105VR, I got it home and upon inspecting the rear element closely, noticed there was something dislodged and floating within the lens barrel that looked like some sort of "flake." I called the store, they said bring it back, they had a new one on the counter ready to swap out. Just like that. I like that.

So all that to say, I'll buy new if I can, and buy from a local store if we can come to some sort of agreement on price (everything is negotiable). I don't expect them to match the on-line guys penny for penny, but I do appreciate some willingness to work with me, especially because I still need to pay sales tax on top of that cost (you should also pay sales tax to the city whenever you buy on-line, but can get away with not doing so if you're shrewd. Buying from a store and paying the sales tax like you're supposed to is a good way to keep your nose clean with the tax people).

I tend to not by after-market brands. I tend to buy the brand version of something. For example, when I bought the 12-24mm DX (AF-S DX Zoom-NIKKOR 12-24mm f/4G IF-ED) wide angle before heading out this spring, I looked at the (highly-regarded) Tokina 12-24 right along side the Nikon. I held them both in my hands, judged the build, feel, quality, and came up with a draw. There was about $450 price difference between the two. I stood at the counter in tremendous turmoil, I'm sure much to the amusement of the clerk (at Jax Outdoor Gear, Fort Collins), and finally walked out with the Tokina. "That's a lot of money you're saving," I kept telling myself on the drive home. It almost worked. Jax is on the north end of Fort Collins, and I live on the south end. It takes about 20-25 minutes to travel from one point to another on a Sunday afternoon. I made it to the Foothills Fashion Mall light, roughly 15 minutes into the 25 minute journey, and turned around. "I'm coming back," I told the clerk on the cell phone. "I just can't do it." Today, I never think about how much that lens cost. It's a superb lens and well-used. A permanent addition to the kit. I digress-and I'll never get to the point of this post if I keep it up.

Here's the point: I love the 200-400/f4/VR (AF-S VR Zoom-NIKKOR 200-400mm f/4G IF-ED) and have pretty well made up my mind that's what I'll get.

There can be no mistaking this for a piece of serious-calibur equipment. Often times zooms are poo-poo'd by the purists for their softness-as in, not quite as sharp as primes. OK, I think there is some validity to this. But more so in the past, and I've seen what this lens can do in the capable hands of others, and have put that issue to rest once and for all: sharpness is more than adequate. My only hesitation with this lens is that it's F4. F4 is good-not as good as 2.8, but not variable ap. F4 is the standard amongst super tele's with the exception of the blazing fast, rediculously expensive 400/2.8. None the less, I wish the 200-400 were f2.8. It's that separation between a sharply isolated, perfectly focused subject and the beautiful, soft, blurry background bokeh of quality glass that I crave. Would f4 get me there? Could I shoot it wide-open? Would contrast hold up? Edge-to-edge sharpness? CA? Color frigning? Could I hold it steady at 400 (EFL 600mm). Only one way to find out and that's to shoot it.

I took both lenses out of the store (many thanks, Chris-not many would let a guy take $10,000 worth of brand new exotic lenses out onto the streets of Denver leaving only my 70-200VR and my 85/1.4 as collateral behind the counter) onto the sidewalk and started shooting. Not having my tripod, doing any kind of serious application comparison wasn't feasible. Instead, for this outing I wanted to learn what I was up against in hand-holding these guys. After all, most of the time I use a tripod/monopod. The rest of the time, I want to be able to get it out quickly and shoot hand held.

Out on the sidewalk in front of the store in Denver, on California Street, I dropped to one knee, propped my left elbow on the up-knee, cradled the foot of the lens in my left hand, and started shooting with the right.

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Here are some first impressions of the 200-400VR:

1. The 200-400VR is a BIG LENS. When I looked at in the store display case it had the hood reverse mounted, covering the front end portion of the lens. In my mind I thought, "yeh, but when you take the hood off, the lens is really a lot smaller and shorter." Wrong. This was both enticing and problematic. I wasn't comparing it direclty to the 400/2.8 I shot last fall, but it seemed not quite as fat and a little longer. Extremely well-built, extremely well-appointed in terms of finish detail. I didn't inspect it closely-I was there to shoot it, not critique the design. But it's gorgeuos-making my artist friend extremely happy.


2. Because it's so big, the nose tends to dip. I didn't notice this until I switched to the 300/2.8 which was considerably shorter, a bit fatter, and not as nose-heavy. Yes, holding this thing would take some practice.


3. It's AF is fast, even on my D300. I'm sure it will focus even faster on the D3.


4. VR is fairly smooth and quiet on this lens. Again, I didn't realize this until I mounted the 300/2.8, which had a noticeably noisier, more vibration-prone feel to it. When you look at the shots with the 300/2.8VR you'll see this has no affect on the image, it's a usability thing.


5. 400mm on a DX sensor is the equivalent focal length (EFL) of a 600mm lens on a 35mm piece of film. If you don't understand what this means right now, don't worry about it. In a few years it probably won't matter as much because DX sensors I'm predicting will go by the wayside and FX sensors will gradually replace them. But for now, I get more reach from this lens on my D300 than I do on the D3. I like that. 400mm (600mmEFL) is out there.


6. Cool factor. Now this is purely subjective, but on a 1-10, in my book, it's an 11. The hood is carbon fiber, the finish is a beautiful semi-gloss/matte classic Nikon black with micro-bumps. Just the right size of zoom and focus rings with just the right size/amount of raised ribbing to grip. Focus is smooth and easy, and my hands just loved being in contact with the barrel. The VR and AF had a soft, supple pulse that was sure and predictable. No hunting, near instant AF and sublime handling. Its control panel-while complex enough to require some getting acquainted with-is well designed and adds visual interest to the lens, without cluttering it up. It's really, truly a gorgeous beauty of a lens. Super cool. A+. I liked it. A lot.

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First Impressions of the AF-S VR NIKKOR 300mm f/2.8G IF-ED (aka: 300mm/f2.8)

1. It's notably smaller than the 200-400, and therefore handles much easier (better).


2. The dimensions are not only shorter, but a bit larger in diameter. Its proportions with the hood are aesthetically pleasing-a nice balance of power/reach/usability in a somewhat compact and highly usable package.


3. Same aesthetic comments as the 200-400 in terms of finish, control panel, ribbing, focus/zoom rings, etc.


4. It's VR was a bit noisier, and I was able to feel it a bit more, as mentioned already above.


5. It focuses amazingly fast, and is dangeroulsy sharp. The color rendition is superb, as is on the 200-400. Just beautiful.


6. At 300mm, obviously, it doesn't have the reach the 200-400 does. There can be no meaningful comparison to me in terms of image quality with this lens and a TC. The 200-400 would kill it.


7. wide open it shot very well, though these test were done with this lens stopped down to 4, and the 200-400 is only 4. Thus, the 300/2.8 has the advantage here in being stopped down a bit, while the 200-400 has the disadvantage of being wide open. That could account for the minor differences in sharpness noted below.

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100% crop of Nice, Young Couple. Notice some minor CA on her shoulder.

Final analysis: I walked away from the store yesterday favoring the 300 for its handling ease, sharpness, fast focusing and overall speed. Truely a magnificent, world class chunk of glass, truly worth every penny of its $4K +price tag. No more superlatives. Just gorgeous. But in the back of my mind, I was reserving final decisions until I saw the full resolution results on the computer monitor. Which was this morning. Looking at the two images side by side, I dare not try to tell them apart at 300/f4. Now add to that the flexibility of shooting at 200 when you need to, and of course the extra reach of 400mm and the decision becomes quite a bit easier.

In many ways it's unfair to compare these two lenses. They have different intents. But given their price point, reach and size, it's something I needed to do regardless.

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I saw 3 differences in the above images. (disclaimer: the same focal point was used, the same ISO, the same exposure, and both were shot within 30-60 seconds of each other. Images are RAW converted in CNX2, exported as 16-bit TIF's, then JPEG'd in Photoshop CS3. No sharpening, leveling or any other post is applied to these images either in CNX2 or Photoshop CS3).

1. First, the image shot with the 300/2.8 had slightly better edge/micro-detail. Not by much, but it was there. If you look closely at things like the separation between the light, vertical reflection and natural color of the fender, for example, you can see a difference. This could be attributed to various things, but I'm going to consider it a characteristic/quality of the lens. You can also see it in the red tail light. As per above, my guess is it's the difference between shooting the 200-400 wide open vs. shooting the 300 stopped down to f4. But that's just a guess.
2. Second, the 300 exhibited minor color fringing or chromatic aberation-not sure what this is (see the magenta line separating her shoulder from the bright background?). From what I could tell, the 200-400 did not exhibit this-but I didn't test it with the same shot so I can't say for certain.
3. The histogram for each image was slightly different from one image to another. Overall it was "lighter" (my 10-year old son even caught it, unsolicited, when I asked him if he saw any differences between the 2 images). Now this (different histogram) could be because one image recorded a car passing by on the extreme right of the frame and the other didn't. It could be a cloud passing overhead changing the light... who knows (the images were shot within seconds of each other). But it could also be different characteristics of the lenses, which is what I think. The 300 lets in just a bit more light. Not much, again, but some. If you read the specs on the nikon site, the 300 has fewer elements (11 elements in 8 groups) for light to pass through than the 200-400 (24 elements in 17 groups).

While I can't deny the purist in me wants to shoot just primes and boast to others about it in an obnoxiously snobby, elitist and condescending way, I've decided on the 200-400VR/f4 with no doubt or regret in doing so. Besides the fact you'd need a llama or a sherpa to carry all your primes on any kind of outdoor adventure (what price vanity?), the zoom is unquestionably more convenient-especially for wildlife, especially when your position is confined due to circumstances where the slightest movement would scare the animal and blow a shot. 

The other lenses all have their pluses and minuses (there's not a bad lens in that bunch), and some day, PowerBall willing, I may have the privilidge of adding (one of) them to the kit as well. But for now, lens lust and pragmatism pat themselves on the back in their ability to work across the aisle as they go walking off into the sunset with a rather self-congratulatory gate to the camera shop, happy to deliver the news to the newest member of the family.

Until next time, thanks for reading.

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On a whim Friday night, with Annie being out of town, the guys decided out of the blue to see if the Rockies were in town tomorrow. They were! They were playing the Pittsburgh Pirates. We decided to get tickets and go. Matthew was excited. "I'm going to bring my glove-maybe I'll catch a fowl ball!" he said in traditional 10-year old boy excitement.p863650059-2
We arrived at the park well ahead of game time. I enjoyed sitting in the glow of the ball park, having not been to Coors Field in some time. It's a beautiful park-a nice mix of old style and new comforts. Matthew's eye was caught by every distraction strategically placed between the entrance and our path to our seats. Me being who I am - focused on finding our seats and getting situated - encouraged him to stay with me... "we can come back later if you still want to," was the bone I threw him.

Before the game started, Matthew was a little disappointed he didn't get to go to the pitching cage, batting cage, have players autograph his glove or participate in any of the other mayhem going on at the ball park. To make matters worse, he saw the big net behind home plate to catch fowl balls, took note of our seats (they were great, but he didn't know it-between home and third base in the Wells Fargo Club level) right on the edge of the net, and heard someone say the only fowl balls that came over here were from lefty batters. He pessimistically speculated that no one was a lefty on either Colorado or Pittsburgh, and he may as well just go home.

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The second pitch of the game, the lead-off hitter for the pirates fowled a ball... high, high, ever so high, back, back-right above us... a gentleman 2 rows in front reached his hand up. The ball smacked his palm so hard I'm sure you could hear it in Pittsburgh. Bouncing off his red, wounded hand over to the very edge of the precipice our seats were perched on, the little white orb was poised at the brink of rolling out of our lives forever. Suddenly, a nice young man sitting next to us scrambled right, grabbed the ball before it fell to the next level and handed it to Matthew. "There you go, kid."

I'd fulfilled my obligation as a dad, and my rather speculative promise during the trip to the camera store (see post above). And the Rockies killed the Pirates. It was a very good night.

Originally submitted at Adorama

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Adorama Professional Verical Grip / Battery Holder for the Nikon D-200 Digital SLR Camera, Batteries Not Included.

Adorama Professional Verical Grip / Battery Holder for the Nikon D-200 Digital SLR Camera, Batteries Not Included.

Suitable alternative to nikon, maybe

Pros: The LCD addition on back, Diff battery arrangement, Easy to Install

Cons: Doesn't Fit Camera Well, Spongy vertical release, Deciphering LCD instructs, Covers L-bracket, Extra piece bat tray, Battery door at end, Additional pwr switch

Best Uses: Mobility, Digital Photography, Power Equipment

Describe Yourself: Professional

I purchased this unit when the white plastic tab on my MB-D200 was broken thinking the addition of the LCD on the back, and the fact that it saved me $20 from buying a new MBD200. I would have kept it, but the way the battery door opens (on the end, like the D300) forces me to remove my L-Bracket every time I want to access the battery doors. Even though this camera is relegated to Studio shooting & a backup to my other cam's now, I didn't want to monkey around with this. I took a peak at the directions to set up the LCD and actually use it, but wasn't impressed. The unit went right back in the box and was returned. Quality was OK, fit & finish was OK, and usability was OK, though the shutter release on the grip felt a bit spongy. Also didn't care for the power management: with the On-Off switch, there were essentially 2 switches you need to turn on to use the camera, making it slower to fire on and use quickly. Other than that, it was a decent product worth the price.

(legalese)

My name is John Crane, and I'm a professional photographer in Colorado. I won't go into a list of professional accomplishments and accolades because honestly there aren't many-I just love to shoot photographs and have since I was young.

It all started with a Christmas gift from my mom and dad back in the early 70's, my first "real" camera, a Canon AT-1.

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I walked around Wheaton, Illinois-my home town, and shot roll after roll of film. When I got the photos back they were never what I had in mind. It took years of practice to start being able to capture what my eyes were seeing when I shot a photograph.

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I studied art in College at University of Iowa, then at Colorado State University, and went through a photojournalism period at Iowa. I intended to work for National Geographic. Why not, I figured. I loved to travel and loved to shoot-it only seemed natural. I wrote the Geographic back in the late 70's and announced to them my intention. They wrote back and said basically get in line. Most photogs come to them after 10 years with a good photo-oriented newspaper. I tried to picture myself shooting car crashes, political rallies and obituaries for the next 10 years and opted to go another route. With the present state of the newspaper industry it turns out it may have been a good decision.

 

Today my main focus is nature, landscape, wildlife, outdoor activities, and people. I'm a Christian man, having accepted Jesus Christ as my redeemer & Savior nearly 30 years ago during my freshman year at University of Iowa. That's another story entirely, but it is the core of who I am today, and drives everything I do.

I started my graphics career in 1984 in Chicago going to work for a photo studio in the warehouse district. There I learned the basics of layout, design, studio shooting and whatever else needed to be done. The real story though isn't work. It's where I've had the good fortune to be able to travel to. Since setting foot in Colorado in the mid 70's for the first time-until present day-my love affair with the Rocky Mountain West has grown with each passing year. My back yard has been New Mexico north through the Canadian Rockies, with a few trips to Alaska sprinkled in between.
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Before I met my wife I would journal. I guess I had a lot of thoughts bouncing around the cloud in my mind that needed an outlet. Today the blog world has exploded, but I've sat on the sidelines, unsure of things like security, personal privacy, accessability, and all the other things that go along with putting yourself "out there" for others to see. I've finally decided that if one is smart about it, one can mitigate risk and enter a new communication space. So that's what I've done.

What triggered actually taking the step of setting up the blog was when I left feedback at adorama.com about a piece of gear I purchased, then returned. Once submitted they asked if I wanted to add my review to my blog. "Hmmm..." I thought-good idea. So I fired up this space, added the link, and presto-my blog has content.

 

Being a photographer, this blog will have plenty of pictures, but at the moment I don't have the energy to sort through the details of re-sizing, uploading and layout... so I won't. If you've read this far, congratulations-because I know this hasn't exactly been a riveting opening statement. Just wanted to say hello.