This man makes bad choices. And not just about ties.

 

This is Phil Baker. Phil makes bad choices, and not just about which tie to wear. Phil was one of the attendees at Governor Walkers dinner at the Steak Pit in Washburn, Wisconsin on Saturday, March 12. The invitation only event, as I understand it, brought Phil and about 100 other significant local GOP financial backers together to hear the Governor and Sean Duffy speak. This is how I know Phil makes bad decisions. His dollars (and presumably his vote) are supporting an agenda that will destroy Wisconsin's future. He's undercutting education, local government, health care and a myriad of other efforts Wisconsinites have worked hard to put in place. So if you see Phil, or any of the other folks shown below, calmly and politely tell them you don't like what they're doing. Tell them to support the people of Wisconsin, not the corporate agenda. Tell them education is the key to a prosperous future for the people of Wisconsin, and that includes them. Don't swear, don't argue, don't threaten. Just tell them you don't like what they're doing and walk away.

Rick Fraatz

Diane Morrison

Unknown (If you know who this is, let me know)

Unknown

Direction.

It's finally starting to feel like a new year. I know, I know, it's officially been 2011 for more than two months now, but it's finally starting to feel like it, at least for me. As the days get longer and the sun starts shining brighter, I'm actually starting to believe that the promise of spring really is just around the corner; it seemed so unlikely. It's been a hard winter here. We're ready for spring, for something new and green and alive.

I'm also ready for a new direction in my work, a new kind of focus. Last year was incredible in a lot of ways. I was busy all the time. I travelled all over the country for photos. I shot jobs on the Atlantic, Pacific and Gulf Coasts, not to mention the beautiful shores of Lake Superior. I don't even know how many thousand miles I covered to do it, but, simply put, it was a lot. Maybe too much. I want this year to be different.

This year I want to work more in this community. And not because I don't want to travel. I love traveling. I want to do more work here because this is the community where I live. I want to see this area be successful. I'll admit that's partly for selfish reasons, but I'm not sure that's bad. I want the businesses here to flourish, I want the people here to have good jobs and make a decent living. I want this to be a place that rises up from an economic downturn to find a new, more stable economy based on a local market, not distant Wall Street. And I see ways that I can help to make that happen.

I'm not saying that a few good pictures and some graphic design will make this area into a bustling metropolis. In fact, even if they could, I'd rather they didn't. But I am saying that I want to focus more of my energy here. I want my work to have an impact on the people and businesses I see everyday, not just cities and people somewhere else. I'm not sure what that all means yet, but I'm figuring it out. And for starters it means meeting more people here. If you own a business in this area, send me an e-mail, call me, meet me for coffee. Let's talk about what we can do together. It couldn't hurt.

 

Another Goodbye.

 

For the second time this week, I've been searching through my archive for photos of a friend that passed away. Rick Fairbanks lost his battle with pancreatic cancer on the morning of Tuesday, February 22, 2011 surrounded by his family in their home. If you're a regular reader of this blog you'll remember this post from earlier this fall: www.hiredlens.com/blog/2010/10/8/sponsor-a-paddler.html. I will always cherish the time that I shared paddling with Rick and learning to love the Lake in the same way he did. It was truly an honor to know him.

Memorial Services will be held for Rick on Friday and Saturday at Saron Lutheran in Ashland, Wisconsin. The Friday service will be held at 5 p.m. and will include prayer and sharing of stories. Saturday at 9 a.m. the family will be at the church for visitation and a formal funeral service will be held at 10 followed immediately by a luncheon in the Fellowship Hall in the basement of Saron Lutheran. All are welcome.

On the Road.

Everything's packed up and ready to go for a whirl-wind tour of the west coast (even remembered to clean out the office coffee pot this time, see Coffee Vs. Time). I'm on the road until next Wednesday doing shoots in California, Washington and Oregon. I'm pretty excited, this loop should hit some really iconic places and I'm meeting up with some cool people along the way. I don't want to give away too much, but this trip may involve a helicopter ride if I'm lucky (I probably just jinxed it by saying that, but I'm too excited to keep it to myself). Keep an eye out for some rockin' new photos next week. Take it easy out there people.

Fall Sunlight.

 

It was another perfect fall weekend here in Northern Wisconsin and I managed to get out to shoot some more photos just for fun. I'm loving this beautiful fall sunlight. I've been playing with backlighting things a lot lately, I really like how it reveals shape. It's amazing what light can do, how it shapes our perception of the things around us. Try looking at something with light hitting it from the front. Now move 180 degrees to put the light directly behind it. It's amazing how much it changes, sometimes it looks like a completely different thing. Maybe I'm just simple minded, but I think it's incredible. Stay tuned for more.

The Forest and the Trees.

Sometimes, as a photographer you need to step back and ask yourself what the hell you're doing--why you're a photographer. I got into photography because I love making photographs. Well, duh. That's obvious--who goes into photography if they don't like taking photos. I know, I know, but bear with me. The thing is this: sometimes I forget why I do this. Sometimes I get so bogged down in the business end of things--the booking, the marketing, the equipment budget--that I lose sight of why I started doing this in the first place. Pretty soon I'm only hauling the camera out when I've got a paying shoot, otherwise it sits in it's case waiting for the next client to call. That was never the kind of photographer I set out to be. I want to be a photographer that shoots for the love of shooting. I want to be so excited about creating good work that I do it whether there's any promise of money on the other end or not. I don't want photography to be just another job, I want it to be my passion. And sometimes that means I need to take some time to reset my focus. Step back to see the forest instead of the trees.

That was yesterday. For the first time in a long time I hauled out the cameras and went on an old fashioned photo safari. A Photo Safari is this: you put on your boots, some grubby pants, and head into the woods to photogrpahy anything you find. You take every side trail, you crawl around on your hands and knees, you peek under big rocks and into hollow trees looking for anything and everything. At the end of it your sweaty and tired and utterly filthy, but you have a camera full of the most amazing things you've ever seen. That's kind of day that made me fall in love with photography to begin with, and now I need to have one every once in a while to remind myself why I'm doing this. 

Yesterday got me so inspired again that I got up before dawn this morning and went out to catch the sunrise. It feels good. Stay tuned for more...

Bagpiper.

 

Caught this image of a bagpiper warming up before an event I was covering last week in Ashland. I love the backlight; it makes the lines so crisp. There was no special setup, no controlled lighting, no stage direction. Just the afternoon sun and a brief moment in time captured by the camera. A very differnt kind of photography than the senior portrait sessions I've been doing lately. I don't even think he saw me making this photo. He was absorbed in tuning his pipes, focused on the sound. These are the kind of images that photojournalism is all about.

The Underwater Senior Portrait Challenge.

I had some time this weekend to experiment more with an underwater camera housing I got a while back. The photo above is one of many lovely self portraits that I made while playing with it. Obviously, the subject leaves a lot to be desired, but all in all I think the picture is pretty cool: interesting background, good color, nice light, and most importantly, a rockin' perspective that you don't get to see every day. That of course got me to thinking (always a dangerous thing), how can I use this to do something cooler than just taking pictures of me holding my breath. So here it is folks, Hired Lens Photography announces the The Underwater Senior Portrait Challenge.

You think I'm kidding. I'm not. I'm looking for some brave high school student (or two) in the Chequamegon Bay Area that wants to take their senior portrait underwater. I'm offering a 15% discount to anyone that will use one of the poses from their portrait package to do an underwater shoot. The rest of the session can be normal terrestrial-based photography. Why do I want to do this so bad? Because its different, because it's a fun challenge for me as a photographer, and because I think it will look really cool when it's all done. And  that's always the goal: great photographs. So who's with me? Worst-case scenario, you choose one of the other, more standard photos from our shoot for the year book and you still have a good story to tell. Think about it, and contact me if you're the bold aquatic subject I'm looking for. This is the chance to do something really different.

Remember Film?

About a year ago, maybe a little bit more, my friends Merm and Tara gave me a really amazing old Kodak range-finder camera that they found while cleaning out a family member's basement. Without going all camera-dork on you and getting way to far into the details, I'll just say that it totally rocks. It rocks for two reasons: because it's a really great classic camera, but also because it got me shooting film again. Remember film, that thin plasticky stuff that came in rolls? It's how we took photos before digital. Anyone, remember that...anyone? Well anyway, not only did I start shooting film with that camera, it also got me to haul out my box of old cameras (yep, you heard that right I literally have a box of cameras) and start playing around. For the last year on and off, I've been shooting certain things with film, processing the rolls and scanning the negatives to capture all the texture and dynamic range it has. Despite all the amazing advantages of digital, there's still something really special about film, something amazing about the process and the product. Especially now that film as a medium seems to be dying (try finding you favorite film, it's tricky and pricey when you do). But here's the real kicker: much as I hate to admit it, I realized that I still approach shooting film with a little more caution, a little more thought, than digital. I pause more to think before releasing the shutter and I think that's a great thing to do. With digital I usually start shooting and then start worrying about the details, make adjustments, change angles. In the end I get the same shots, but the process is very differnt. So maybe that's the best lesson from the old Kodak: to bring that level of focus--that thought process--back to my digital work. Definitely something to think about. Thanks Merm and Tara, some prints are on their way. In the mean time here are a few my favorites:

Redemption.

It worked. Todd and Ray, IT superheroes of the highest degree, ressurected my harddrive. They performed some sort of black magic voodoo and brought it back from the dead. I'm a little vague on the process but it involved eviscerating the drive, freezing some of the guts, plugging it into some sort of fancy computer with special sneeky drive reading software, and then sacrificing a chicken to the Technology Gods in hopes that the blood would appease their anger. And it did. I think that's how it all went, can't remember exactly. I was busy having a panic attack while they did all of that. Either way, I have my pictures back. All of 'em. Frickin' awesome. (Insert high-kick and fist-pump of celebration here).

Smote by the Technology Gods.

Apparently, I have done something to anger the technology Gods. The nature of my indiscretion is unclear. Perhaps my preference for hand written notes has enraged them, or they are terribly vexed by my faith in the telephone system over their clearly superior e-mail. Maybe my lack of participation in Facebook has aroused their contempt. Whatever the cause, they are greatly peeved and as punishment for my sins they have chosen to smite me. Well, not me exactly, but instead my innocent external hard drive. Some great deity of Data storage reached down from the heavens and, pressing it's great glowing finger against the drive, wiped from existence every image I've made in the last three years. And so a great sadness descended upon the land.

Okay, maybe that's a little over dramatic. To be fair, almost everything is backed up elsewhere, squirreled away on DVDs or hidden on the remote corners of my computer. None of my professional work is lost, but my personal photos are mostly gone. Go figure, I protect everyone else's photos, but not my own. Smart move. Trips to Ecuador and El Salvador, Colorado, Wyoming, Madison, the family farm, all lost into the ethers. Bummer. Worst part: I know better.

I know hard drives fail. It happens. They break, get lost, get stolen, whatever. That's why you always have a backup. About a month ago I had my mouse arrow poised over the "add to cart" button on a set of three identical drives. The perfect redundant system. One for travelling and working from the road, one as an at home backup and the another for occasional archiving in a fire-proof safety deposit box. Now that's a good system. So why didn't I do it? Because I'm cheap.

As we speak some friends in IT are frantically performing the equivalent of harddrive CPR on the little fella, but it doesn't sound too good. We're basically looking at a total flat line.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

"Shock him again."

"It's no use doctor...he's gone. Call it."

"No, damn it! We have to at least try. Give me 60 joules this time. When I look his mother in the eye, I need to tell her we did everything we could."

ZAP! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

Quiet sobs emanate from the corner where I'm curled into the fetal position slowly rocking myself.

"He was so young. Why God? Why?"

I should find out Monday what if anything can be recovered. Wish me luck.

It's all about Timing.

I didn't take this photo. My friend Adam took this photo and I think it's just about perfect. It's me crashing a motorcycle on the Pan-American Highway. I think it's great for two reasons: (1) it's a priceless memory of an amazing trip and (2) it's a perfect example of how timing is crucial to a good photograph. Sometimes a great image is about lighting, sometimes it's about the interaction between the photographer and the subject, but sometimes, just sometimes, it's all about good timing. And for this one, Adam had it.

Let me set the scene: this was the tail-end of a trip to Ecuador. We had done some mountaineering in the Andes, visited Mitad del Mundo, drank Pilsner by the gallon and ate all manner of strange roasted meats on a stick. Like I said, it was an amazing trip. For one of our last days in the country, we rented motorcycles and road into the mountains to see the aftermath of a recent volcanic eruption. It was a great day and I wanted a picture of me to riding on the legendary Pan-American Highway to commemorate the occasion. Adam was, of course, happy to oblige.

I handed over my trusty Canon and went down the road to loop around past him. Adam waited for me to come cruising past, wind in my hair, the heroic traveller flying by on the iron steed. I had it all planned out. It was going to be a great picture, and Adam took that picture. Done. Cool. Most folk would have put the camera done at that point, but, knowing me better than I know myself, Adam kept the camera to his eye, ready for the aftermath of my triumphant driveby: the low speed, cart-wheeling dismount into the ditch. Turns out, that was the great picture. A real wall-hanger. All because of impeccable timing. Nice work, Adam.

 

Harvest Season.

 

Talk of harvest season always conjures up images of fresh-cut hay and yellow-tassled corn and old tractors chugging across frosty autumn fields. That sort of thing. Well it's my harvest season too, in a way. It's been cold and rainy all day, so I'm sitting inside this eveing drinking a cup of mint tea and processing all my backlogged photos; turning RAW camera files into real, usable photos. I'm catching up on all the things I shot over the summer and haven't yet touched. They're all photos I shot for myself and, since no ones paying for them, there's been no rush to get them finished up. "No rush" usually means they sit around for a ridiculously long time before I finally just delete them. But today I'm actually doing something with them, I'm harvesting my summer photos. They've been waiting patiently for an evening like this and now I'm reaping what I sowed. And taking a nice little saunter down memory lane while I'm at it.

This summer was all about food. It was the first summer Sarah and I had a big garden, the first summer we had a CSA share. It was the first year I really thought about where my food comes from. And when I think about something a lot I usually take a lot of pictures of it. Over the last several months I've spent time on a lot of different farms, including my Grandma's land in southwestern Wisconsin. I've learned more about chickens and livestock and crops and vegetables than I ever planned. And I have more farming related pictures than I know what to do with. So, here are just a few of the best:

 

Wait. Was that Art?

 

 

Sunday afternoon I was out on a tennis court as part of a senior portrait shoot and, as I usually do, I took a quick throw-away test shot (above). You can see I didn't even bother focusing. Just fired off a quick frame to check colors and measure the ambient light level before I started setting up the shot. Test frames like this give me a baseline exposure to start from as I add lighting to a scene. Technical purpose aside, I usually just toss these images as soon as I get them onto the computer, but for some reason I really liked this one. So I held onto it. As I've worked on processing the images from that shoot over the last few days, the dreaded mouse arrow of Damacles has hovered over this image more than once, but I can't bring myself to delete it. So what is it about this picture that I like? I don't know. Is it the colors, the angles, the softness of the lines, all three together? Not sure. But wait...Does that make it art?

Whoa. Easy there. That's a big question. Here's a bigger question: What is art? Where's the line? I'll be honest, I have no idea. This shot wasn't intentional, but I dont know if intention is the critical element that defines art. I've seen wonderful pieces that rely, at least in part, on chaos. And on the opposite side of the coin, I've seen impressive intentional efforts that I would not qualify as art. Is art merely that which is pleasing to the senses? Maybe, but that gives us a pretty broad definition. Is a nap on a Sunday afternoon art? On the right day, I could probably be convinced that it is. But then what about works of art that make us uncomfortable, art that's not pleasing to the senses. Do we demote them to something other than art? I hope not.

But that means there must be something else. Some vague intangible concept which defines art that lurks just beyond my ability to describe. I don't know what it is, but I know something about it. It's a living thing always just out of site. It's somewhere out in front of me always waving me over to the side of the road when there's an amazing photo opportunity. It's the nagging whisper in my ear that always says "try that shot one more time from that angle over there and maybe it will be perfect." It's the passion that makes me pick up a camera everyday and try to do something completely different. That's it. That's what it is.