(NOTE: This post originally included only the first section, based on the story that begins the article. The longer second part added in 2014 addresses some important related issues. A third section added in early 2017 recognizes a new and dangerous political factor. Additional editing is done from time to time.)
In the summer of 2010 I had the good fortune to join friends and fellow photographers (Charlie Cramer, Mike Osborne, and Karl Kroeber) for a few days of photography in the Tuolumne Meadows/Tioga Pass area of Yosemite National Park. Spending time with photographers who have so much experience and knowledge of Yosemite is always inspiring, and I was grateful to join them.
Pond with Boulders and Trees
While sitting around during the “boring light” midday hours — before early dinner and travel to an evening location for the good light — Mike mentioned that they were going to a place that was best not publicized, and he joked (at least if think he was joking!) that he “might have to blindfold Dan” if I came along.
Mike was a Yosemite ranger for decades, and he loves and cares for the place deeply. He mentioned posts on my website in which I had named locations and given more information than necessary about them. He has seen first-hand the damage caused by publicity about fragile locations. He suggested that it is often better to share or acquire information about these places the old fashioned way — by word of mouth from an acquaintance or through on-the-ground exploration. He also noted that many of my photographs are not so much about the specificplace as they are about some thing I saw there that is not location-specific — so specific location titles aren’t important and may even be a distraction from the real value of the photographs.
Mike’s comments caused me to think quite a bit about this issue. First, a few words of self-defense, but then some changes that I made at my website, on social media, and in other places where I share my photographs.
Some might be surprised to find that I take every opportunity to photograph bicycle racing. Although I’m primarily an urban and natural landscape shooter (to generalize just a bit) I also have a passion for shooting a few other surprising subjects. One of these is professional bicycle racing. Although I never raced, I was at one time a very serious cyclist. I trained with folks who did race and for several years I rode as if I were preparing to race, doing over 10,000 miles per year. With that in mind, it might seem less surprising that I interrupted my photographs of Death Valley, the coast redwoods, and the Pacific coastline to post a week of bicycle racing photos.
During the last few years I’ve been fortunate to be able to shoot stages of the Amgen Tour of California professional stage race in northern California. As I’ve done so, I’ve gradually figured out more strategies that let me get some effective photographs. Here’s a quick summary of a few of them.
Time trials, especially those on short courses, can be the best opportunity to shoot riders on their bikes. Each competitor rides the course individually, so you can get a clear view of the rider approaching. Because lower ranked riders go first, you can experiment with locations, lighting, and so forth on them… and have your shooting strategy worked out by the time the big names arrive.
If you want to shoot the peloton (the pack of riders) try to do so at a start in a downtown area that includes “parade laps” – where the pack does a few loops at less competitive speeds before heading out on the open road. You’ll have similar opportunities at the end of a stage that finishes with several downtown loops, though things tend to happen a lot faster at the end than during the parade laps.
If you try to shoot a sprint finish and cannot be right at the finish line – and you probably cannot – try to be in the area 100-200 meters from the line. At this point there is tremendous action as the final sprint starts to take place and, in my experience, some very dramatic shots are possible – even more so than at the finish line when the race has usually already been decided.
In all of these situations, unless you are very experienced at tracking riders close up with a long lens as they fly by at high speed… practice on every rider that comes by. I’ll even practice tracking support motorcycles, police escorts – anything that moves. Eventually you want to pan smoothly while you remain continuously aware of the position of the riders in the frame – and the non-rider elements in the background. To put it mildly, this isn’t easy – and it takes a lot of practice.
When you track riders moving at high speed, think about putting their torsos/hips in the center of the frame vertically. Unless you are shooting very tight, if you center their heads you’ll get lots of empty space above them and cut off their legs and bikes.
Team Gerolsteiner Warms Up for the Prologue
Pick your shooting location carefully. You certainly want a spot where the riders are likely to be in dramatic and dynamic positions. Turns can be good for this, for example. But also carefully consider the background to your shot – who is standing on the other side of the road and what is beyond the riders. (I once shot a series of riders warming up for a time trial… only to realize later that there was a bright green outhouse behind them!) Also think carefully about the ambient lighting. If the riders are backlit there is a good chance that they will be very dark. I try to place myself in a position where they will be front or side-lit.
Counter-intuitively, very high shutter speeds may not always be a good choice. Yes, you may stop the action – but you also may end up with very static looking shots. In many cases you’ll more effectively capture the speed and motion of racing if you lengthen the exposure and track the riders, thus allowing some motion blur.
Don’t let bad weather dissuade you from shooting. Often rain or clouds or fog can make for some of the most dramatic images. Be careful with your gear, but try to take advantage of these conditions.
If you are going to try to shoot the pack in the middle of a long road stage, you need to plan carefully. The road will often close well before the peloton arrives, so you need to be in place well ahead of time – an hour or many hours before the race passes. If possible, scout the area where you think you’ll shoot ahead of time. Look for a dramatic setting – an expansive view, a bridge, forest, anything that can make your shot something other than just “bikes on a road.” Consider shooting on an uphill section – the pack will go more slowly. Try out different focal lengths to see what will work best in your location. Consider having two camera bodies with different lenses – a telephoto to do long shots as the group approaches and a shorter lens to shoot the pack as it is right in front of you.
The pack will pass very quickly. A few motorcycles will pass, then the pack will suddenly appear in a rush of color and wind, followed quickly by the support vehicles… and then they are gone. You’ll have only seconds to shoot. You must pick your spot ahead of time. You’ll almost certainly want to use burst mode – perhaps shooting jpg so that you can get more images before the camera buffer fills. Better to err on the side of using a focal length that is too short (wide) than one that is too long (telephoto) – you can crop later if necessary.
The actual race is not the only thing worth shooting – there are many, many interesting subjects before and after the race. I often find interesting subjects among the spectators waiting for the pack or even watching the peloton pass. One of the great things about pro bike racing is that you have amazing access to the riders in the team area before the race. I often spend at least an hour there before the race, shooting like crazy so that I don’t miss anyone. You may look up and see Lance Armstrong riding past you five feet away, or you might see some guy you don’t recognize talking to fans – only to find out later in the day that he was the stage winner. I generally use a relatively long lens in this area and “snipe” – getting close shots of riders. (You’ll generally have far fewer opportunities like this after the race, when the riders quickly disappear.)
Occasionally try things that aren’t quite so obvious. I once found myself on an inside corner a few blocks from the end of a stage as the peloton came into town. I put on my widest lens – a 17mm zoom – and stuck the camera through the fence down low to the ground. With the camera in burst mode I shot as riders leaned into the turn only a foot or two from the camera.
Large apertures are often better than small apertures. Yes, the small apertures give you greater depth of field – but they also force you to shoot a slower shutter speeds (not always a bad idea…) and put non-central subjects in sharper focus. Often the riders will stand out more against an out of focus background than against a busy in-focus background. (It is difficult to generalize too much about this though – if you are already throwing much of the scene out of focus by using a slow shutter speed, there can be advantages to the smaller aperture.)
When shooting individual racers, especially in the team area, do shoot a lot of frames – but also think carefully about what the riders are doing and what they look like. I’ll often try to quickly get an initial shot that is serviceable – but once I get that I become a bit more selective. I’ll watch the subjects face for the most interesting expression or better light. I’ll also watch to see them interact with fans – this often creates really compelling moments.
Shoot a lot. Things happen quickly, and not just on the course. Not every shot is going to be a great one, but you’ll often have little time to carefully consider each shot – better to work on instinct. (Oddly, I realized a few years ago that the closest experience to this might be shooting certain types of wildlife – birds in flight for example.)
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
I’m curious if you know the answer. I don’t print very often so I’m not experienced with it. I keep reading about noise in digital of course. I also have read many remarks about noise not being visible in print under some conditions. So I’m curious if there is a threshold. For example, on the 5D2, what is the print size where noise becomes visible at a given ISO? The 7D? I realize that where it becomes objectionable may be subjective, but I thought it may be interesting to know when it is visible or invisible in print.
Let’s assume other technical details are handled well… good exposure, good focus, sharp lens, and no camera shake.
Thanks for writing. This is a great question and a subject that lots of people worry about. I’m not sure I know the answer, but I have an answer based on my own experience. The situation turns out to be a bit fuzzy in the end – in other words, if there is a threshold a number of factors could change your notions of where it might be. (I welcome comments from others who have experience to share.)
From reading photography discussions one could get the idea that image noise in digital photography is a terrible and limiting problem. Discussions often focus on questions like “which camera produces less noise?” and “how do I fix this noise problem.” We see 100% magnification crops of images in which noise is, indeed, quite visible. There are most certainly noise issues that we have to concern ourselves with, but all too often people get worked up over noise issues that are insignificant or even imperceptible – and which are often easy to resolve. Continue reading A Question About Noise and Prints→
As noted earlier, yesterday I again visited the “Ansel Adams: Early Works” exhibit at the San Jose Museum of Art. (Yesterday was supposed to be the final day – so if you missed it, I’m afraid you missed it!)
I always see and learn more when I have a chance to revisit work like this, and this was my second visit to this show. One of the wonderful things about it was that most of the photographs were small! This meant that they were presented more intimately, forcing one to look at them in a way different from our typical “monumental photograph” mindset when we look at Adams’ landscapes. In addition, many were from the 1920s (especially) and early 1930s before he adopted the more sharp and high contrast style with which most of us are more familiar.
A few things I came away with:
I’m so impressed with his seemingly atypical photograph of Stieglitz in his gallery in New York, with its beautiful composition and wonderful use of light and tonality. And next to this (small) photograph was a simple quote from Adams that (finally!) crystallized the whole Stieglitz “equivalence” thing for me.
I think I actually liked some of the early prints more than some the later ones, at least in a few cases. Side by side were hung two versions of the famous “Monolith” Half Dome photograph from the Diving Board. One was a small and rather dark early print, and the other was a much larger print made later that exhibits the lighter and brighter appearance. To me, the upper portion of the larger and more famous version has “issues,” especially in the handling of tones near the upper right corner. I think I actually prefer the darker rendition of his earlier print. (I guess that if I could “make my own Adams,” I might start with the darker one and go about 20% of the way towards the lighter one.)
In the “how could I have missed this before” department was my sudden recognition of the obvious parallels between one of his “White House Ruin” photographs (not the more famous one shot from an oblique angle but one shot straight on that even includes a bit of fence in the foreground) and the “Frozen Lake and Cliffs” photograph from Precipice Lake in the Sierra. Not only do both feature similar vertical banded patterns on the predominant rock faces, but both feature small “pyramid” shapes (sun-lit brush in the former and snow in the latter) and contrasting horizontal bands at the bottom of the frame (sunlit ground in the former and the ce/lake in the latter).
I also thought more about the photograph of roots that he made in Hawaii. As I understand it, Adams said that he didn’t really quite connect with Hawaii in the same way he connected with other subjects that he worked with. But this particular photograph – featuring a beautifully lit and composed group of curving roots and some small leaves – is truly wonderful.
Finally, in an odd way it reassures me to see some Ansel Adams prints that seem, how to say this, “not so special.” This is an important reminder of so many things: How astonishing it is when truly amazing work emerges from the background of lesser work; reaffirmation that no artist just creates great stuff – failure (often a lot of it!) is necessary as well; and a clearer sense of the humanity of Adams.
