Anniversary of a Photographic Blackout

I went digging through my archive of photographs to see just what I had been photographing at this time last year. It's my time-to-time tactic for making myself feel better about the stage of photographic evolution I may be desensitized to at any given point. Last night was a particularly low night for me, with an interest in pursuing the muse ultimately defeated by an inexplicable inability to do so, a comedy of self-inflicted errors leaving my spirit deflated. So I sought the crop, the product of my photographic musings in May last year.

My ailing short-term memory seems to be evolving into a long-term memory problem - in May of last year I took no photos. I had no adventures. I had no camera. In May of last year I was recouping from my dance with the Reaper.

Wild to try and think back to that time, really. Much as I dwelt on a split sense of identity at the time, I no longer seem to feel that way today. If anything, the person, the personality and outlook I'd adopted during recovery was the John 2.0 he would always ramble about. Who I am now feels seamlessly connected to the person before the accident, but with a greater sense of self and profound understanding of the lessons to have been learned from the experience. My identity is whole again. Thus it is strange to think that I could have ever endured a period of doubt, that such a disconnect ever existed.

In any case, I wouldn't take a photo again until June 11th of 2011. I was sitting at the coffee house with the son of the woman whose car I was in when the accident occurred. Good kid, helped me keep tabs on his mother's progress through recovery as her's was a much longer process than mine. I had just acquired the funds to purchase a replacement camera, which I was very eager to do. All I could think about was rebuilding the camera system I had lost, putting together a similarly competent system and running into the photographic fray once again. Unfortunately, all I had enough for was a premium compact, the Olympus XZ-1, which I still use and love today, but was not nearly the kind of system I had lost in the accident (a compact is hardly something one can refer to as a system). I didn't care, though. All I wanted to do was take pictures again and I didn't care what the limitations would be. I needed to be able to photograph again.

We sat up at Starbucks, drank coffee and mused about how all our worlds were rocked. He nearly lost his mother (and at the time still stood the chance of losing her), I nearly lost my life, the legal repercussions of the event were still nebulous and worrisome, all we could do to keep our minds out of the sea of confusion was to talk out our stresses over coffee. He didn't mind me photographing him. Being a musician and therefore artistic type himself, he understood the swell of pain involved when a muse is untapped for so long. And frankly, the photos were terrible - I was learning a new camera after over a month of never touching one and being dry as can be on the concept of composition and processing. I was learning how to do everything from scrap puzzle pieces littering the ground, some of which were so malformed and destroyed they didn't even fit anymore. Amazing to think that I've managed to put the picture back together at all, let alone so well that I've monetized the process with a talent that others recognize enough to pay money to utilize.

I have a photograph of myself after getting home from the hospital. My face was still pretty discolored with bruising, scars bright and glaring against my skin. I looked like I hadn't showered in days (which, come to think of it, I hadn't). A sad, broken person, with a sad, broken history. One year later, on the very date of my demise, this self-portrait replaces the image of that broken person. And even though this whole nostalgic ramble was spurred because of a tragic dry spell in the pursuit of the next strong image, it's hard to be so pessimistic when the pace and progress of the past year is taken into consideration. Bored and frustrated as I may be, I'm still smiling.

I Feel Another Transition Coming On

My life really does feel like it has endured nothing but a steady stream of really positive transitions in these opening 4 months of this new year. Call it paranoia, but I do hope this rushing sweep of uplifting change and accompanying optimism isn't precipitating a pending future tragedy. For a change, I'd like to think I've already endured more than my fair share of personal tragedy. Not just the car accident that should have ended my stream of consciousness, but the year preceding which was effectively a long-term state of mind so unbearable as to make the concept of premature death not just palatable, but appetizing. It's good to be done with self-imposed bad vibes.

So much of the latter half of 2011 was spent re-evaluating my significance, my reason for being. Much time was spent mentally fixated on the perplexing circumstances of my continued survival, a constant process of rationalization. My perception of who I was split, the original variant of my concept of self left dead on the roadside. The person that remained was a shambled collection of the broken pieces from that shattered identity, a piecemeal sense of self not cohesively arranged into anything recognizable as the defined man preceding it. I was someone new, someone different, and despite all the years spent defining the person I was (leading to the tragic result that was a self-sabotaging 24 year old) I needed to slow down, take my time, erase what was written and start fresh, ink in what worked and erase the sloppier parts of the draft. Like traveling back in time to correct mistakes you know you'd make (only without that silly Hollywood subplot of every change inevitably bringing a negative consequence).

Most of 2011 felt like lost time, a period of recovery where progress that could've been made wasn't. Once upon a time that thought left me feeling cheated, but now I appreciate the hiatus from rapid progress as it gave me the time I needed to really think critically on what I wanted to achieve, which pursuits were the most fulfilling, what I wanted out of life instead of what I was being given. That period of introspective brainstorming shows today. Without it, I wouldn't have ever developed the brand that I am now recognized by. I wouldn't have met the people I've developed an affinity for shooting with. I wouldn't have branched off into actual studio work, been contracted to shoot real estate for a legitimate, well established company, been published and re-published in a strong, ongoing business relationship with a foreign publishing firm. I wouldn't have realized the dream of becoming an established, working photographer. And that really is the important part... if not for the wild way in which events unfolded, I never would have ascended from the tragic dreamer to the man living the dream. From simply quixotic to self-actualized.

It's a good feeling, and life has become an optimistic affair. And while it is natural to become acclimated to the state of being after a goal has been achieved and once again yearn for the next goal, the next journey, I am supremely contented with the coasting ride. However, I have a swelling sense that the changes are not done coming, that in spite of the grand positive influx of happy coincidence and boons to my future, there are still other subtle, unexpected changes set to settle in my lap. Regardless of need or desire. Independent of anticipation. So long as I continue making progress in solidifying my foundation as "Photographer".

Life has treated me well. And I am absolutely thankful.

Uprooting Syndrome

Life in general has been on an all too lasting holding pattern as of late. Last month I signed the lease to a new apartment, and while items were trickling over into the new space the entire time, it has been in the past week that the vast majority of major item moves have taken place. As it stands, the new apartment is more or less together with nearly all the "keepers" from the old space, but with that said, the old space still needs to be emptied. As nice and obvious an "upgrade" as the new apartment is, the transition is bittersweet - after 4 years in the former residence, memories, habits, a solid history had formed in and around it, the likes of which it will naturally take some time to form in the new apartment. Much as I love the new place, it just won't have that home feeling until I've been there long enough to built a new set of patterns, write a new history. Ah, the impact of sweeping transition.

The only photography I've managed to engage in during the past couple weeks has been some shooting in Baltimore, at the inlet of the Inner Harbor. Night shooting, the classic stuff I learned the art of photography on to begin with. Learning some niche issues that make the E-P3 a bit tricky to use when shooting at night, but learning it well enough. Still in love with the wildly punchy but somehow balanced colors it produces in i-Enhance mode. To remove one annoying little handicap to my post-process, I invested in a new monitor last night, a 23" LED with excellent tweak-ability and bundled calibration software, perfect for ensuring solid photo editing. It's nice to not be left squinting at the screen anymore to edit photos and be a slave to off-even zoom levels. It may not affect ultimate image quality, but it will certainly make the experience of post-processing less cumbersome and annoying on my end.

Another off-usual tidbit from last week, I visited a therapist for the first time in many years. At the encouragement of a friend (though, really, multiple friends), I sought professional counseling to get to the core of a multifaceted and deep seated disquieted demeanor I just can't quite seem to shake. I've been more and more prone, in recent years, to essentially consume stimulus much as one consumes media such as TV or movies, and much like those who watch too much TV or waste too much time watching movies or playing video games I've reached a point where no matter what my goal, the hobby in practice, whatever I may be working towards or in pursuit of, I am never satisfied by the ultimate outcome. Not disappointed at the end result, but disappointed that it is a completed goal. If not on a constant journey, a non-stop march to complete some objective, I quickly grow bored and stir crazy until the next goal is presented. Effectively, I am binging on work because I'm never content with the result no matter how positive. After my first session last week, it was suggested I read up on and engage in the practice of meditation to slowly bring myself to contentedness with doing nothing, and while I would like to try it the first step demands a location that is relaxing, sacred, generally non-stressful, and because I am in a new place that isn't even entirely together there is nowhere at home that qualifies.

Best I could think of was perhaps driving out to one of my abandoned sanctuaries and practicing meditation there, which I'm fairly confident would work, but that line of thinking brought me to a deeper point of understanding about how I work mentally. I haven't explored solo in quite some time, usually bringing along the safety net of a friend such as Kyle or with a trustworthy group. From a safety standpoint, such a practice is best, but I thought further about how I felt while exploring on my own, with no safety net. Mental wellness meditation involves a strong emphasis on body awareness, demanding central focus on breathing, where the body occupies the space around it, generally a sense of where you are, strictly locking the mind in the time frame of the present. While exploring in groups, my mind has always been muddied by the influence of those people, be it self-conscious thinking of their perceptions, the influence of their photographing approach on my own, any number of subtle, often overlooked ways in which we interact with each other simply by being in close proximity. Alone, however, there is no better way to describe the experience than the most firmly rooted in the present and the most keenly focused and aware of myself, my body, my presence. Concern for Facebook status updates, what I'm eating for dinner, how much gas I have left in the tank, what groceries I need, whether or not I cleaned the stove, none of it ever entered the picture during my solo explores of late 2010 and early 2011. Everything was strictly in the moment, and the only elements that mattered were what were directly available to the senses. In essence, those solo explores were like meditation all their own. I'm thinking perhaps I should engage in the practice of it again to reset that scope of clarity they provided before. If I can learn to function strictly in the moment during an explore, certainly I can bring it with me into my normal day-in, day-out.

Hopefully this weekend the apartment transition will be complete. Then, finally, I will be able to return to a more normal span of activities. My hands miss holding the camera.

Skylines and Mountainsides

On this day last week I was roadway bound for the region around Shenandoah Valley, specifically gunning for Skyline Drive. If you haven't heard of it, you should have. It's a very touristy locale, but still manages to offer the kinds of stunning vistas you'd think only hardened mountain climbers should ever get the opportunity to see. I'd been there once before in 2010 with a good friend who held similar interests in the photographic sense as myself. Our time there 2 years ago was the stuff of magic. While last week's excursion was certainly not nearly as long a trip, it was still a time of heavy introspection and abstract worldly appreciation. One of those rare opportunities to step back from the game our modern world has made of our day to day existence and contemplate the stuff of existentialism, the stuff that really matters.

Driving down last week proved to be one of those quirky little adventures all its own. The main point of amusement was a hiccup in our chosen GPS device. Utilizing my tablet for all directions and other such location-related needs, we (Kyle tagged along on this trip) managed to make it a majority of the way without a hitch until the signal the tablet received from the cell towers dropped to nil. Suddenly the satellite was grossly off our actual location, so turns, landmarks, roads, everything was askew just enough to throw us that critical little bit off course. Frustrated, a quick stop at a lovely little Italian eatery in the land of Middle-of-Nowhere was just the recharge needed, and with our bearings re-synched we managed to make it to the place we'd chosen to stay for the night. And oh what a place it was.

Two thousand feet up on the undeveloped side of the Pocosan Mountain, hidden like a treasure up nasty, aggressive gravel mountain roads, a local conservationist, naturalist, farmer and all around green thumb had set up a rather large yurt on one of the cliff sides of his 60 acre mountain top property and rented it out to those interested and willing to brave the trek to reach it. He happened to have it listed on the website of the company that contracted me to shoot their listed rental properties, and for the minimal fee he was charging for its use it would have been an insult to myself to not have taken up the offer. Kyle and I aimed to stay there just for the night, my intent being to photograph the mountainside views as tenaciously as possible, but with Kyle's influence the vacation quickly turned from self-prescribed work to an actual, legitimate instance of rest and relaxation. What with the host's home grown meals served to us in the evening and for breakfast the following morning, a hot tub with an amazing sunset view and amazing views in general, it was hard to want to do much else than sit, let stress dissolve and take in the unique sounds of such an isolated area. An actual vacation, fancy that.

The following morning we set off to wander the winding roads of Skyline Drive. Again, while my intent had been to stop and photograph the overlooks aggressively, that simply isn't what happened. We did stop to take in several overlooks, but most of my attention that day was directed to the simple pleasure of aggressive driving, tackling the limited roadways as hard and as fast as possible. I don't think I have ever smelled brakes cooking so repulsively. Each stop at an overlook, though providing an opportunity to take photographs, was ultimately more an opportunity to let my brakes cool off and just generally give the car a chance to breath after the demands I placed on it for miles and miles and miles. It was a fun time, regardless, and Kyle wasn't terrified at all sitting shotgun through my irresponsible maneuvering. Was rather nice to have someone riding passenger who at least understood the method behind the madness of some of the more aggressive handling techniques I employed. 67 miles and 40 minutes later, we were in Front Royal, and even though our adventure hadn't lasted too long, we were both oddly eager to get home.

Unfortunately, the haze over the Blue Ridge Mountains was still heavy. I had hoped the haze would be more subdued in the Spring (my trip in 2010 was in the Summer and haze was atrocious). Ultimately, this means a Fall trip will be required as I am determined to photograph multiple North American States in a single image, and the nearly 4000 foot peaks of some of the mountains of Blue Ridge are some of the only places such a task can be accomplished. Just a quirky personal goal. But I will most definitely be looking forward to staying in the yurt once again.

It's also becoming more and more of a priority to me to shoot such scenes in lower light, either at nightfall or twilight states. They just speak to me more when photographed at those times. Well lit scenes are just so bland anymore.

Tonight I will possibly be shooting with the crew of local urban exploration masters I linked up with in January, but all will largely depend on events at home - I am in the middle of moving into a new apartment and alas the air mattress I've been sleeping on for nearly a year decided to pop last night. Oh well... cest la vie.

Abandoning the Status Quo

It's been a long while since I've made a post on this forum. Peculiar, really - as much as I have done, as many things as I have accomplished in just the (nearly) 2 months since my last entry here, somehow I feel like I have accomplished remarkably little of note. Or perhaps that's simply a rise in my sense of personal doubt that anyone actually cares what I am doing (and let's face it, why should they)? Not sure... but looking back over the past two months... dear lord, my world has been shaken.

Let's start with the business aspect of photography (since I like to pretend this blog is somehow business related in any respect at all). Early in February (but after my last post, obviously) I received a message from a photography department liaison for a certain vacation/travel real estate rental service that has blown up to something quite big over the past few years. At the core, their business model is decidedly "European" - when people have guest spaces they aim to rent out to short term travelers who would rather opt into a private space than a hotel, this company handles the money between them as well as functions as a sort of background checking buffer to ensure hosts and guests are trustworthy individuals. A simple and rather novel approach to rental properties, streamlining the booking process and doing well to alleviate concerns one might have when allowing strangers into their home (and vice versa). While every listing tends to have at least some photos snapped by the property owners themselves, this company contracts freelance photographers in various areas and distributes locations in need of more professional presentation. Effectively real estate photography.

Anywho, this liaison approached me with a very direct offer - not verbatim, but in generally the same words, she proposed to me "You take such fantastic photographs of the interiors of these abandoned structures, how would you like to be paid to take photographs of some not so abandoned interiors?". Long story short, I most enthusiastically accepted the offer made - now I am officially employed as a photographer! To date I have conducted well over a dozen shoots, for which I have been compensated quite graciously. Finally, after years of persistence and missed chances, I am operating in an industry I actually reserve some strong passion for. Good times, for sure.

Partially related to my engagement in such a business form of photography, my editing methods have also undergone tremendous adjustment. The standard by which everyone in the industry swears as far as post-processing goes is Photoshop. Well, Photoshop or Lightroom. An Adobe product. The packaged RAW editors delivered with cameras very often fall to the wayside, neglected and unappreciated.

Following the standard, I utilized Photoshop to process the RAWs from my first photoshoot for the company that contracted me. And much to my alarm, my submissions were rejected for not conforming to a certain style and expectation of image fidelity I simply didn't know how to achieve with Adobe Camera RAW. I fooled with the RAW for hours in ACR and could never manage a clean looking image that would pass the review gate, and as such I feared my chance at continued employment with this company was in dire jeopardy. Desperate, I traveled off the beaten path - I couldn't return to reshoot the scene using JPG processing in-camera (as I suspected the i-Enhance color mode with my manual adjustments would have been the golden formula the company was looking for), so I installed the Olympus Viewer 2 software offered along with the purchase of the camera. I knew that RAW editor would effectively allow the application of color profiles offered in-camera, just with much more in-depth tweaking available. While worried the clarity of the image would not be up to par with the detail retained by ACR conversion, I dove in regardless, out of options and desperate to submit a product that would meet the company's approval.

Not even 20 minutes later I had a solid bank of 15 or so images I knew would pass through the acceptance gates with no problem. More importantly, the next few hours I spent experimenting, reprocessing images I'd shot months ago in RAW, because dear lord Viewer 2 managed to produce a kind of tonality and color fidelity I would never in my life ever learn to achieve in Adobe Camera RAW. And to this day, my post process has effectively abandoned Photoshop entirely - Viewer 2 is that good.

Before, my process never affected the RAW file in ACR that much before it was fully rendered and dumped into Photoshop for layered editing. As such, the color profile of each image was an identically bland natural tone that depended entirely upon heavy adjustment layers to manipulate into anything original or artistic in aesthetic. I'd doted before on Olympus' magnificent JPG engine in-camera, but never really came to the understanding that the same color fidelity could be achieved with its own RAW development software. My only exposure to manufacturer RAW development before Viewer 2 had been Nikon's NEX software, which (as any photographer will tell you) was an atrocious failure of function. That first impression left a stigma that made me afraid to travel outside of Adobe for imaging software. Just as Olympus has a monopoly on ingenious JPG rendering, they similarly have the monopoly on supremely functional and genuinely useful RAW development software packaged with their cameras. No need to spend $900 on the Adobe suite when the camera you already spent $900 on can render an image just as well, if not better, with less effort required on the end of the user.

It dumbfounds me that Olympus isn't higher up on the photography tool popularity charts. They are the only manufacturer I have maintained a system from that actually has the entire package together to maximize the capabilities of the end user of their equipment. Their systems are open and modular, with both in-house support and that of many third party manufacturers, their products come packaged with functional, competent software so the end user isn't required to look elsewhere for optimal image rendering capabilities, they even provide for offsite storage of image files and the bandwidth to carry the load of image sharing and distribution. The system couldn't be more complete, from both a software and hardware end. It doesn't just stop at the capabilities of the camera, it runs over into excellent customer support, quality warranties and product repair, community and open sharing of information between end users - I would call it the Apple of digital cameras, even though I bear a strong contempt for Apple (which isn't to say I respect the amazing product and user support they provide). Digital imaging is so inundated with obsession over the hardware capabilities of its tools, a shame more people don't take the time to step back, look at the greater picture. I'm certain, if they did, Olympus would never have suffered the scare of 3 years ago when they very nearly dipped into irrelevance to the market.

Aside from those two very landmark points... well, let's see... I'm sure I've been up to other things too. My protege, Kyle, and I spent one weekend more or less binging or urban explores. His presence during an explore is a welcome thing - he manages to challenge my usual hesitations and boundaries of risk in ways that encourage the will to conquer them, not the easiest balance of provocation and empathy to exercise. We also took a trip into the Shenandoah Valley region off Skyline Drive for some natural landscapes, but alas, the Blue Ridge Mountains lived up to their name even this early in the year. They definitely demand a Spring-centric shoot to avoid their usual mask of haze. My backlog of personal images has gotten rather tremendous, what with photos from working shoots often taking precedence. However, with my log of working photoshoots taking a bit of a needed lull, I hope to present more of my most recent material this week.

So much in so little time. And so strange that is seems like the complete opposite to me... I really should learn how to relax a bit more.

More Shooting Less Talking

I'm pretty sure I've done more shooting in the first month of this year than I did for the whole first quarter (the only relevant part) of last year.

Having built good rapport with some key people who abide by the same discipline of photographic interest as myself, I've adopted a spot in the ranks of a very active and very enjoyable troupe of photographers with a penchant for adventure. I'll skip the verbose theatrics and simply state that they are THE urban explorers of the greater Baltimore area. While I've run across many who explore in the region, these folks would be the first that have clearly taken their discipline to the next level, and I am many time thankful to be welcome among their ranks.

Possibly the most interesting, most telling indicator of this mutually appreciated sense of accomplishment is the general lack of urban exploration we ever necessarily feel bothered/compelled to do. Our meetings have taken on a pretty standard formula at this point - we meet at a predetermined location, usually somewhere public and relatively low key, and although our initial intent may be to venture elsewhere and explore, our track record has us more frequently sticking to that initial location, chatting for hours about our adventures, our feats, our achievements, the stories, the memories that are the greatest treasures we own, maybe wandering a bit off the beaten path from where we started, usually with a couple beers in hand (or in stomach), and after hours of regaling each other with our privately treasured tales grand idiocy for sake of getting "that image", we part ways and look forward to meeting the next week. There may or may not be some happenstance train hopping that takes place in between.

Although I've only managed to attend a small number of officially organized events thus far, the group has a solid track record which leads me to expect nothing but good things from future meets. These are the guys who actually manage to get permission by factor of expressing their legitimacy. The ones who understand that food is the universal language and that beer is the universal feelgood.


So yeah. I aim to stick by these guys for a while. Now onto photography  things.


During these meetups with the new photography/adventuring troupe, I've been relearning the art of night shooting all over again. My process in post used for low light but still daylight images simply did not work for night shooting whatsoever, bringing forward far too much noise of the unattractive, blotchy color kind. It took some time and a lot of play to figure out how to achieve the look I was shooting for without butchering the quality of the image, but I'm pretty sure I'm at that point now. It simply required two leaps of faith - the abandonment of RAW and trust in native red channel fidelity. Basically, a step back to my former, 2004 self's style of shooting with just a little bit of an edge from years of learning and experience.

Yet again, Olympus' JPG engine continues to impress and make it very hard to justify the hard drive space that would otherwise be consumed by RAW. Against all logic or understanding of the engineering behind imaging technology, I'm simply getting cleaner, equally tweak-able files out of calibrated JPG files than with RAW. Some of this has to come down to a lack of responsible RAW processing on my part, but at the same time I managed to manipulate RAW just fine back in my GF1 days and that RAW fidelity is trumped wholly by JPG resiliency from the E-P3. Sorry, engineers/fauxtogs/GWCs, Olympus got JPG right.

Using the 12mm f/2.0 has been a joy as well. Barring what everyone already knows about the lens (it's sharp as hell, small, light, well built and just all around sexy), the lens genuinely provides a very critical ease to manual focusing with its pumping focus ring. I wrote off the stepped, dampened, marked focus ring as a gimmick to cater to older photographers (fly-by-wire manual focusing has always served me just fine on MFT) but with all the night shooting I've been doing its function has been a boon to ease. Even an f/2.0 lens will struggle to acquire auto focus in abysmally low light, but with the dampened focus ring set to a predetermined infinity mark on the focus scale, a position is literally "remembers" when you pump it in and out of that forced manual focus mode, any challenging focus situation is easily resolved (or simply bypassed entirely) by pumping the lens back. It's just plain awesome. And at f/8.0, literally everything is in crisp focus, not to mention the star bursts over sharp points of light are looking gorgeous. I could easily get back into night shooting with such a smart tool at my disposal. Such a simple thing, but easily makes the lens worth its comparatively high price tag.

Unfortunately, during one of these night shoots with the new group, I lost my XZ-1 to tragic circumstance. To keep the story short and sweet an abandoned train car was involved, as was beer and (therefore) possibly some mild inebriation. Olympus has come through for me in this matter (they seem to be treating me damn well in general, really) and have fixed the thing for free. It's currently en route back to me so that I may get back out there and put it to use. I've missed not having my little pocket rocket point and shoot on me at all times. Even if I never took many images from it to post, it certainly helped me to scratch that incessant shutterbug itch on a moment's notice when needed. The tripod aforementioned camera was mounted on is very much dead, however, and while I wait for my budget to permit a replacement I'm stuck using an atrocious, plastic Dynex unit from Best Buy. For the longest time I never understood the point of spending triple digits on tripods, now, having been spoiled by a well made tripod and being forced to regress to inferior tools, I couldn't be more excited to drop a C-note on a Manfrotto or Slik replacement.


Tonight, Kyle, the young fellow I randomly photographed a couple months back and somehow managed to engage in a strong, lasting friendship, is due to come over and let me experiment with my shoddy, poor-man's budget studio setup. I really am glad I've made good friends with Kyle... not only is he a good friend, but he's a reliable exploring partner and an engaging model for studio work. And when the camera is put down, he's still down for random movies, hookah, wine and pasta dinner. The perfect partner for any photog.


He's not even judgmental about being placed in front of a wrinkly bed sheet thumb tacked to a wall and a pair of Walmart special tin shop lights with 100 watt halogens in them. What a guy!

Doting on the XZ-1

Immediately after my accident and the month and a half or so into the recovery phase that logically followed, there was one dominant priority at the forefront of my mind. Get a camera. On a personal level, it was a rather telling thing that the first thing that I felt compelled to address after such a traumatic event was the acquisition of a replacement imaging tool. Really solidified the importance photography has in my day to day life. The funds weren't present for immediate investment in a replacement system, what with all the medical billing shenanigans going on at the time, so I looked at the market of pro-sumer compacts that had always appealed to my inner minimalist and I dropped the necessary half a C-note on the best of the best available, Olympus' flagship compact, the XZ-1.

It's a tiny little thing. Pocket-able, unlike the Canon G10 which I used avidly maybe a year or so before. In the hand, it just doesn't feel like all that impressive of an instrument, more akin to your grandmother's Kodak branded point-and-shoot plastic box than a professionally oriented tool. But I'll be damned if the thing doesn't take occasion to put even my larger format systems to shame. It has some undeniable strengths.

More and more I find myself compelled to put the unique imaging latitude of the XZ-1 to use in favor of the E-P3 system, especially when the subject of interest in outdoors and in waning light. I couldn't possibly begin to express why it is able to do so, but the RAW files it produces have an absolutely magic quality to them. Despite the diminutive sensor backing it, highlights have a wonderful shoulder to them in their transition into middle tones (which I admittedly screw up almost habitually by cranking the recovery slider up to 100, an unfortunate instinct). The dynamic range of which the sensor is sensitive to is unreasonable broad for such tiny piece of silicon, very readily bringing out much detail in shadowed areas without the expected sacrifice of highlight retention typical of sensors of its size. Whatever programming mastery backs the unit is as wonderful as it is perfect. Colors, noise (up to ISO 200 anyway), dynamic range, they all simply... impress. And they do so with a very analog, candid, expired film look and feel that resonates deep with me as I'm often reticent to return to film these days. To have a sensor that produces images very much akin to the look of old, washed out film (but with enough digital pizazz to come across as clean and rendered with intent rather than happy chance) is like a dream come true.

My fondness of the XZ-1 is likely rooted with my introduction to photography in the thought-out, less casual sense. Sure, I'd snapped a few with old film cameras before, gone through my share of film for fun, but it wasn't until getting my hands on that first Kodak DCS digital camera, that 1 megapixel clunky behemoth that ushered in the digital era of imaging, that I ever took photography to heart as a serious art form. Up to then I was all about traditional media, charcoal, pen, colored pencils, occasionally paint. Perhaps the reason why mirrorless cameras resonate with me in general is based on how I learned to compose and photograph in the beginning. The viewfinder of that old Kodak was miserable and tiny, useless for most applications and especially in low light. It became a much more comfortable and second nature habit to use the live view of the larger back screen to compose the photograph, much like I would visualize a subject for prospective charcoal sketch or painting. It just made more sense to work in that way. Only years later would I acquire my first DSLR and learn what a viewfinder could actually be, but I still felt more comfortable composing on a screen than via pentaprism. Old habits die hard, I suppose. About the only thing the pentaprism permitted over composition on a screen was an abstract personal connection to the subject, something that only ever had poignant affect when photographing people, but that's a whole other subject entirely. Point being, I feel more comfortable composing on a large screen, at arms length, so to speak, because it hearkens back to the way I would visualize before approaching art in more traditional media.

It has its limitations. And I like that. The limits are the challenge the tool presents the user, and while most people depict those as shortcomings of a lesser camera, I take them on as personal challenges against which to combat, to force the strongest possible image and maybe even break that glass ceiling. That is perhaps what I feel myself doing every time I use the XZ-1 in place of its (at least technically) more capable older brother. Compacts aren't supposed to present a shoulder to tone curves. Compacts aren't supposed to be so damn sharp (and let me tell you, the Zuiko glass in front of that tiny sensor out-resolves it by several orders of magnitude, so much so that wide open it's unreasonably sharp). Compacts aren't supposed to present a width breadth of tonal range, allowing detail retention in shadows and highlights alike. They simply aren't designed with that intent in mind. Compacts are made for the casual shooter, or as a shoddy backup, not ever with the intent of being a dedicated, front line tool in the field. But dammit, the XZ-1 stands out among the crowd of premium compacts as being uniquely capable of standing on its own as a primary shooter, not a backup. Small as it may be, it has the core control functions demanded of any pro. The only way in which it doesn't stand up to serious field work is in the lack of impression it makes on clients (which is very much a similar problem experienced with even its older brother in the mirrorless camera markets).

Tonight there is a certain night shooting extravaganza planned to occur. While tempted to bring along the E-P3 and its 12mm f/2.0, I had a hunch that it would not be the preferred item for the venue chosen. I've always adhered to a minimalist approach to photography ventures, and tonight will be a venture most minimal. Just 2 pieces of equipment - the XZ-1 and a tripod. Like old times when I would wander out onto the streets of my home town at night, studying light and shadow, reacting to it, stopping for the exposure and then moving on. A truly minimalist, kneejerk approach. I'm looking forward to it. That little Zuiko lens' aperture produces some sexy fine pointed sunstars, after all.