The first part of an ongoing series of the streets and people of Kathmandu, Nepal. Shot in mid-2011 with a Nikon D700, 24/1.4 G and 85/1.4 G lenses.
reframing the world one picture at a time
The first part of an ongoing series of the streets and people of Kathmandu, Nepal. Shot in mid-2011 with a Nikon D700, 24/1.4 G and 85/1.4 G lenses.

Starburst. Olympus E-PM1 Pen Mini, Panasonic 20/1.7
This has been another one of those tricky articles to write – mainly because a lot of self-reflection went into it, and as we all know, it’s very difficult to do that and remain objective. The essays is illustrated with images that are representative of experiments that worked – things I was inspired to try with various muses, and in turn learned something from.
What is a muse? In its purest form, a muse is perhaps best defined as something that triggers inspiration in an artistic or creative sense. It doesn’t have to be an inanimate object; most artists’ muses tend to be people; in fact, most artists tend to land up romantically involved with their muses. Creativity is impossible to separate from inspiration, and inspiration is a very close bedfellow of attachment – attachment to an idea. (I know this sounds like Inception, but bear with me here.*)
*On an unrelated note, that movie contains one of the most spectacular dining rooms I’ve ever seen – from a design and architectural point of view. And I suspect it would be pretty cool as both a photographic subject and backdrop, too.

Floating head. Olympus E-PM1 Pen Mini, 14-42 kit lens
This attachment can take many forms. From a specifically artistic point of view, the main one is to try and capture the essence of the subject in the artist’s work; in fact, an extremely challenging muse is probably the best thing an artist can have, because no matter how hard they try, they will never feel as though they’ve done the subject justice – and this is what drives the growth of creativity. It’s not so much attachment to the subject per se, as an obsession with the desire to capture the subject in a medium or object other than the subject itself – which is in itself doomed to failure, because the more one understands about a subject, the more one realizes that it’s impossible to reproduce it in another medium – especially if the subject is something live and changing, like a person.

Prague sunset. Leica M9-P, 28/2.8 ASPH
So in effect, muses are necessary stimulants to creativity. There are a few things that make a good muse: complexity and multidimensionality is one; ease of access is another (you never know when an idea might strike, and you just have to try something out); finally, some sort of flux or dynamism is another – which is why most muses tend to be things that offer infinitely variable possibilities – for instance, Ansel Adams and Yosemite – or a person.

Journey ending. Leica M9-P, 28/2.8 ASPH
Having a muse is also an admission of the artist to imperfection – at least in their own minds. If the artist was happy with their work, they’d finish one piece of art – take one photograph – feel like they’ve nailed the shot, and then never look at the subject again. By trying to photograph something repeatedly, it says both that there’s perhaps more to capture than is possible in a single frame, as well as all of the past frames being insufficient or incomplete in some way.

Vienna at Christmas. Leica M9-P, 50/1.4 ASPH
A person may have many muses. You might, for instance, be inspired by a particular place or location; an object, and a person. Most of mine fall into the latter two categories, though the objects tend to be somewhat short-lived. I’ll start with the easy one – objects. I tend to accumulate objects of design. I have a huge weakness for things which have unique (but functional) design elements; things made of unusual or highly tactile materials and textures; and things that just look good. Past random acquisitions include a miniature fountain pen with no clip; a vase with a hole so impractically small that you would be hard pressed to fit even a single flower stem in it, but an incredibly unique texture; and fifteen stuffed polar bears.** And of course there are the watches, too.
**You may have already seen these make cameo appearances in various camera tests. Their white fur is an excellent test subject for highlight tonality, microcontrast, and of course fine detail reproduction.

Bob. Nikon D700, Voigtlander 20/3.5
Most of these objects will be the subjects of several photo sessions, or until I’m happy with at least one or two of the images I’ve captured. After that, they don’t change, so they don’t really serve much of a challenge photographically; however they litter my apartment as monuments to my design curiosity. But by far the biggest guilty pleasure of mine are cameras and lenses; yes, they are technical tools used to capture an image. But different cameras also force you to shoot differently and think about composition in different ways; a great example is a compact, or a monochrome-only camera. The former removes the crutch of bokeh, and forces you to rely on subject differentiation solely via framing and light; the latter forces you to see luminance, texture and shadow, rather than contrasts in color. Both are refreshing, and mastery helps you improve overall as a photographer.

Red vase and erstwhile contents. Nikon D5100, 60/2.8 G Micro
Then there’s the difference between rangefinders and SLRs – viewing and focusing method aside, I find the biggest difference is that a rangefinder forces you to focus more on your subject – you can’t see what’s in focus and what isn’t; you can’t frame precisely. Shot properly, both of those things subconsciously make you concentrate more on ensuring that the subject itself is the most immediately obvious thing in the frame, and the primary composition is so strong that whatever might be in the edges or out of focus areas of the frame become secondary, and do not detract from the subject. A new camera makes you want to go out and shoot with it, too – and that motivation is often enough to make you get images you wouldn’t otherwise have managed if you’d either stayed at home or not bothered to experiment with.

A Parisian cliche. Leica M8, 21/1.4 ASPH. I don’t think I would even have attempted this with a big black DSLR.
Japan is also a source of endless inspiration for me – perhaps because the place is just so different from anywhere else in the world, especially the old world of Europe where I used to live, and the developing world of South-East Asia where I now live. I step off the plane and feel excited – those very differences that pervade every aspect of daily life force you to approach subjects with fresh eyes and curiosity; you take experimental risks and try things you normally wouldn’t at home or on a commercial shoot, where risk might equal loss of a client. I think every photographer needs these creative trips on a semi-regular basis as a way of forcing your eyes not to take things for granted, especially when back home. Seeing something done differently overseas tends to make you wonder what’s normal – it is of course all relative – but perhaps enough for you to find a worthwhile frame in the course of your daily life you might have otherwise ignored.

Waiting for the train, Sapporo. Nikon D700, Zeiss ZF.2 2/100 Makro-Planar
My biggest muse, by far, is my long-suffering wife. She is crash test dummy for new equipment and technique, a partner in crime for experimentation, and a handy anonymous body when an empty scene happens to need one to complete the frame. (She isn’t that patient, though, which also forces me to hone my instinctive composition and technical skills – the less one has to think about something, the faster one works.) And as a person, I find her endlessly fascinating*** – which means that there are always facets of her personality that I’m trying to capture; regardless of whether I do or not, I’ll always feel there’s something left over the next hill – and that motivates me to keep shooting.
***I suppose if this wasn’t the case, then I probably married the wrong person. Perhaps there’s a photographic metaphor in this – maybe in choice of camera or choice of subject – but that remains another topic for another day.
Conversely, there are places I visit frequently with a camera – either as part of testing, or because I always have a camera of some sort on me – I will take some photos, but nothing in the location compels me to return. These I do not consider to be muses because they don’t inspire me; I just happen to be there and see something.

Bukit Bintang reflections. Apple iPhone 4
I highly recommend you find your own muse; it doesn’t have to be a person, or even a fellow photographer (my wife doesn’t really have any interest in taking pictures, and she is almost always surprised by the way the images turn out – despite having participated instrumentally in their creation). Rather, your muse is a reflection of you as a photographer – what is it that fascinates you? What inspires you? What makes you want to create? Finding and understanding that is a hugely important step to unlocking your creativity. MT
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Some of my 2012 gear. Missing is the D800E, PCE 85/2.8 Micro, AI 45/2.8P, 35/1.4 ASPH FLE, Pen Mini, OM-D, Panasonic 20/1.7, Panasonic Leica 45/2.8, D-Lux 5 Titanium,a couple more SB900s, light panels…
This small mountain of gear leads to two very frightening thoughts. Firstly, there’s no ending in sight; one keeps accumulating more and more equipment in order to keep pushing the edge of what’s possible both from a compositional and artistic standpoint, as well as from an image quality standpoint. You’ve either got to have a great day job and very deep pockets, or some good recurring clients.
The second thought is around obsolescence. In the film days, the camera body and lenses lasted a long time; you invested in glass, got a decent body – one that fulfilled your personal needs as a photographer – and then picked the right film for the job. In that sense, image quality differences between brands were down to the lenses and the photographer. This is to say that if you put the same film in every camera, the difference in sharpness or acuity or color or whatever would be down to the lens only. If you wanted more image quality, you went for a bigger format – and thus a larger sensor. The digital equivalent to this would be having only one photo site design of a fixed pixel pitch; say around 4.9 microns, which would get you 16MP at APS-C, 36MP at FX, about 60MP on 645, and something silly on large format. For an equivalent size print, the larger format would definitely outdo the smaller format by an amount proportional to the difference in resolution.

A Parisian cliche. 2006 vintage Leica M8, Voigtlander 50/1.1
Except, that’s not quite the case, because there are technological tricks employed on some sensors that land up yielding image quality that isn’t quite where you’d expect along the size-quality curve. Bottom line: the camera body now plays a much more critical role in the imaging chain because it also contains the ‘film’, and this isn’t something you can change when the equivalent of a new emulsion is released.
Cameras from the 1950s and 1960s are still alive and well today – and in some cases, quite plentiful. Yes, some may have sticky shutters or mechanical issues due to neglect or lack of servicing, but the reality is that they were a) built to last and b) will continue to do a fine job so long as one can find film for them. The chemical process for film processing hasn’t changed much in the last forty or so years. Negatives can (probably) last hundreds of years with proper archival and storage conditions – how long, exactly, is anybody’s guess.

Minute repeater works. 2005 vintage Nikon D2Hs, 85/2.8 PC Micro
However, we’re facing some very real issues with digital, and ones that matter to all digital photographers. Let’s examine these individually.
Camera life. In the film days, shutters may have been rated to 50,000 or so exposures for a professional body – the reality is that nobody but a professional would shoot this many frames; film always has a per-shot cost and effort cost associated with it. You think a bit harder before letting off a frame, and this generally results in fewer frames but more keepers. Since digital is free, photographers experiment a lot more (and learn a lot faster) – but this means that you’re probably going to wear out a shutter if you are a dedicated shooter and keep a camera more than a few years. Even the professional grade cameras have shutters rated to around 300,000 or so exposures; I know of many sport photographers whose cameras are well over the million-frame mark. I’ve had to replace shutters a couple of times on my own cameras. This in itself isn’t a big deal, so long as parts are available. However, if something goes wrong with the electronics, your camera becomes a brick the minute the manufacturer runs out of spare circuit boards – the chips are not something you can repair with an experienced hand, unlike mechanical shutters for instance.

Shipyard worker. 2007 vintage Panasonic TZ3
Lenses. Even modern lenses are not immune to this – yes, they all still use glass and helicoids, but they also rely on a lot of electronics to control autofocus and aperture functions. Let’s not even talk about those with magnetically-activated gyroscopes for stabilization. Even the coreless ring-shaped motors used to achieve fast focusing aren’t infallible; early Nikon AFS lenses are notorious for requiring that expensive repair once the lenses start making squeaking noises. Again: you’re up one of those brown creeks with no paddle if something electronic gives way. The sole exception to this is the entirely mechanical glass by Leica and Zeiss; those will probably survive the apocalypse.
Batteries and cables. Anybody who’s got an older camera that uses Ni-MH or Ni-Cd cells is going to relate to this one instantly: once the batteries are no longer available, you’ve got a brick. And the inherent nature of the chemistry means that this can be as short as five years, or perhaps ten if you’re lucky. I’m glad I don’t have any that fall into this category, but I do have some lithium cells that were so heavily used that they’re pretty much useless now; I’d be worried about not being able to get replacements for these in the future. (Fortunately, I’m paranoid about spare batteries, so I have at least two for each camera I use.) Once supplies dry up off ebay, that’s probably the end of the line – and who even knows how old or new those stockpiles are. One thing I really hate about some cameras is the necessity to use proprietary connectors for things like video out or even USB – if you lose or damage that little adaptor or cable that came in the box with the camera, you’re probably out of luck getting a replacement unless there’s a huge ecosystem for the camera – but so far, no camera connector has reached that kind of popularity. At least some makers see sense and use standard mini-USB cables or 3.5mm minijacks. And putting the two together, the same of course goes for battery chargers…

A quiet moment. 2004 vintage D2H, with a 1960s vintage 55/1.2 SC pre-AI converted Nikkor
Storage media. This one concerns me quite a lot: we’ve already seen big shifts from one type of digital media to another, with almost zero support once a type of card or drive or storage goes out of fashion. Self-burned CDs from just a few years ago seem to be hit and miss when it comes to readability; early DVDs are a tossup because of the format used; and has anybody tried to mount an old drive recently? They don’t always work. I’ve found the best way to keep your files and backups accessible is to use external hard drives, limit the amount of uptime they have (if you’re not using them, don’t turn them on) and change them every couple of years. This serves several purposes: firstly, maximizing forward compatibility; secondly, giving you more space; thirdly, hopefully more reliability as technology matures; and finally, the old drives can be kept somewhere as an incremental backup. And drives fail, too – you might want to take a look at my article on storage and backups.
Online. If you’re storing files online, make sure you have an offline backup. I’m sure Kodakgallery had a lot of users at one point – at least until they shut down this month. I dread to think what’s going to happen to their servers when everybody’s aunt and uncle suddenly realize that all of their photos are there and must be downloaded immediately, or worse still, forgets completely they’re there at all. The problematic thing is that there is usually no automated backup for these things – you have to download the images one by one. If say Flickr went down, I’d lose the 13,800 or so images I’ve got there – at least the small, web-sized archives – and that wouldn’t be so critical, except that all of the images from this site are hosted there. Still, it would be recoverable – but not great. And problematically, there’s no way of executing a backup to this, either.
File compatibility. Of all the future proofing problems faced by us digital users, this is by far the biggest. I’m no so worried about JPEGs, because it seems that as a format it’s here to stay; even the improved JPEG 2000 format introduced by the same group that created JPEG compression originally didn’t really make much of a dent in the photography world. What worries me more is the ability to open all of those RAW files in future; so far, Adobe Camera Raw is doing a great job of maintaining full compatibility with older cameras (which explains why the update files are now enormous), but I wonder what will happen if that platform shifts in future. We can only hope the size of the demand for such support is large enough to support a continuing market for such products. A second set of DNG files may be an option for increased future proofing. However, it’s well-known that ACR isn’t the best converter for all files, and better image quality can be obtained via other converters for specific cameras – so I’d be concerned about what information isn’t being fully captured and transferred over. I don’t have a solution for this other than keeping a full set of uncompressed TIFF files, whose encoding is relatively simple and shouldn’t be too difficult to retain support for in future.

End of the line. 2007 vintage Panasonic TZ3
There’s one final issue I’d like to touch on in this article, and that’s the ecosystem. I’m not about to go greenpeace; I’m referring specifically to the support tech that’s required to maintain a full digital workflow; this includes everything from the memory cards to cables to batteries to the computer involved. Image quality competitiveness aside (more on sufficiency in another article), I think you’re going to have to think about a full upgrade cycle for your support gear every three to five years. It’s no longer your camera body you’ve got to cost in, but also a new computer to handle the larger files, Photoshop upgrades to get the most out of those RAW files, bigger memory cards and hard drives to store everything on, maybe even a higher resolution, more accurate monitor. And all of this of course costs money.
There are two ways of dealing with this – as a hobbyist, I’d recommend buying one complete (and compatible) set, then using it until one critical component dies or absolutely has to be replaced. This should get you at least five years of use, probably more. The upside is lower money out, but also close to zero residual value. As a professional, you probably have to consider the other extreme – upgrade as soon as an improvement is available. Your used gear still has resale value, and this can be used to offset the upgrade costs. Incremental upgrades to the supporting equipment can be made with relatively small spending. (I don’t like to use the word ‘investment’ when it comes to equipment, because it is really a losing proposition.) It also keeps you competitive. I’m a masochistic early adopter, so I’ve always taken the latter route. I think it’s very important to pick one approach and stick to it (or buy film, then consider owning only one camera and lens for the rest of your life) – otherwise you’re going to be stuck in the expensive no-mans’ land inn the middle. MT
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From the horological files. MT
Set shot with a Nikon D800E, several SB900s, the AFS 60/2.8 G Micro, and one shot with a Leica 35/1.4 ASPH FLE via adaptor – see if you can spot which one!
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Visit our Teaching Store to up your photographic game – including Photoshop Workflow DVDs and customized Email School of Photography; or go mobile with the Photography Compendium for iPad. You can also get your gear from B&H and Amazon. Prices are the same as normal, however a small portion of your purchase value is referred back to me. Thanks!
Don’t forget to like us on Facebook and join the reader Flickr group!
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Tanah Lot is a rock formation on one of the Balinese beaches on the western side of the southern tip of the island, facing the Indian ocean. It’s also home to a famous temple to the Balinese sea gods, purportedly set up by the 15th century priest Nimrata. During the 1980s, subsidence and erosion threatened the temple’s survival; a comprehensive restoration and stabilization program saw about a third of the ‘rock’ replaced with artificial rock and concrete – courtesy of the Japanese Government. Today, it’s a popular site for both tourists and pilgrims. MT
This set was shot in 2006 with a Panasonic TZ3.
Shot in 2011, from the pits during the Super Japan GT500/GT300 race at Sepang International Circuit, Malaysia. Had to make do with the 28-300 VR – which was extremely challenging for moving vehicles. Since I don’t regularly shoot wildlife or sport, I also don’t have any long fast glass. Still, an interesting experience. MT
Series shot with Nikon D700, D5100 and AFS 28-300/3.5-5.6 VR
I admit to being one of the skeptics who didn’t believe that anything that wasn’t designed primarily as a camera would be able to function in a worthwhile capacity as one – I remember my first camera phone having all of VGA resolution (a Nokia 6600) and not being very much good under any conditions. In fact, the thing didn’t even have autofocus, much less any sort of manual adjustments. Successive phones thereafter all came with cameras of some sort, mostly held at the 1.3 megapixel level with sensors about the size of this full stop. In the meantime, I was shooting with APS-C DSLRs – no comparison!
But the relentless pace of miniaturization eventually delivered a sensor of sufficient quality and resolution, coupled with a decent enough optical system, that I put aside my biases for long enough to give one a decent try. That was the iPhone 3GS – it had a 3MP camera with autofocus; tap to select the focus point and lock exposure. A little, bit like weighted spot metering. I got a decent image or two out of that.
The iPhone 4 was a revelation, however. Not only was the sensor and optics greatly improved, we finally got a decent field of view – my favorite 28mm! Still tap to focus and expose, with no provision for adjusting any controls anywhere. Despite all that, it was (and is) possible to get some pretty good shots out of the camera – especially considering it’s a phone first, small computer second, and camera somewhere around a distant third.
In other ways though, it shows. Despite the increasing complexity and controllability of competitors’ offerings, Apple decided to keep it idiot-proof and deny the iPhone user any sort of exposure control other than the pseudo-spot meter. Nokia released a 41MP sensor that used binning to generate some of the most amazing 8MP images I’ve seen from a small sensor camera – let alone a phone – and Apple just quietly went to 8MP, and fiddled a bit with the FOV again, so it’s probably closer to 30 or 32mm in the 4S than the previous 28mm.
I don’t have a 4S, nor do I intend to pay the Apple ‘upgrade tax’ every year to buy one. The iPhone is a great piece of technology, but I’m entirely happy with mine until it breaks, or the new model actually offers something I want that I can’t currently have. And only then will I think about buying another one. (From a commercial point of view, I actually find it pretty amazing that they can turn a $800 precision device into a piece of fast moving consumer electronics.)
What the iPhone lacks in controllability it makes up for in development possibilities – just so long as you stay within Apple’s limits. I still remember the app which had a shortcut option to put the camera shutter onto one of the volume release buttons – it got pulled, only for Apple to subsequently add it as a system option to the latest version of iOS. To be honest though, I’ve tried most of the popular photo apps and find them a bit cheesy. Instagram, Hipstamatic and Camera+ are the prime offenders: use the app, and your images look the same as everybody else’s who used the app – what’s the point of photography if you’re going to produce the same work as the next guy? They might as well forgo the camera and just put in a library of random images that appears whenever you press the shutter instead.
There are some good apps, however – PhotoForge is one of them. It comes much closer to being Photoshop lite than Photoshop Mobile does; that I find pretty amazing. Still, I wouldn’t do any serious editing work on that because it lacks the fine control of the real desktop version.
I want to talk about three more things before I close.
Firstly, real world limitations:
– You can’t control white balance. This is the biggest of them all, to me – especially when the iPhone 4 does a pretty poor job at deciding what color something is. Shade is much too cool, and incandescent is much too warm. And worse still, it tends to blow out the channels so you have no hope in hell of recovering any tonal information later.
– You can only control exposure to a certain degree, and that’s linked to focus point. Generally, this is okay because it’s how spot metering works – you expose for your subject, which you also obviously focus on. However, I find again that the latitude of adjustment for exposure is limited – perhaps because the camera has an electronic shutter only – so sometimes it can’t give you a fast enough shutter speed, or a slow enough one. It would actually be nice to know what exposure parameters the camera chose, too.
– You can’t control the output JPEG parameters. All you get is Disneyland color mode – that’s it. Again, once a channel goes, so does any hope of recovering tonal information.
– Speed. Focusing speed, shooting speed and shutter lag are all slow – the 4S improves on this slightly, but still feels unresponsive compared to a good compact like the Ricoh GR-Digital III or IV. Realistically, that means you’re not going to be shooting anything moving, unless you prefocus.
– Tap to shoot. The lack of a physical shutter button means awkward hand positions and ensuing camera shake while trying to poke the button on the screen. Sure, iOS5 gives you the option of using one of the volume buttons, but it isn’t a solution – you still need to touch the screen to focus.
Secondly, advantages and strengths:
– It’s always there. We always carry our phones, and even if I didn’t, the iPhone 4 is small enough and sleek enough that I wouldn’t notice it in my pocket.
– The image quality is finally good enough. Hell, even Getty Images thinks so – I’ve got photos in the library that were shot with an iPhone 4.
– It’s silent. Thankfully that annoyingly cheesy shutter sound can be silenced by putting the phone in vibrate mode; or you could just stick your finger over the speaker opening.
– Connectivity. Sometimes, you need to share an image – something stupid, something important, something for information only. And you can’t do that easily with a camera that isn’t also internet-connected.
Finally, possible improvements for a future version, bearing in mind the original Apple gestalt for simplicity:
– More latitude for auto white balance and the touch-spot meter
– Show us what the exposure is! I want to know in advance if it’s too dark or will be grainy etc.
– Two more manual settings: ISO, and image output parameters.
– RAW files (we can dream, I suppose). I still have to run the jpegs through photoshop to pass muster, so I might as well start from a better base. Sorry Apple, there’s just no way you can develop one set of color/ tone/ sharpening settings that are going to work under all situations.
– Two stage shutter button, or if Jonathon Ive lost a few points of his bonus percentage for each button he added, then make both of the volume buttons do double duty: one to AF and lock exposure, and the other to shoot.
– Put the damn camera in the middle of the phone, at least in a position where you’re not likely to stick your hand into it if held in landscape orientation. The design of the phone is superb, but it’s way too easy to stick your finger into the lens.
– Better low light performance (taken as given)
– More speed! (taken as given)

The Interrogator, or Behind the two way glass
In conclusion, I use the iPhone a lot as a camera because of one reason and one reason only: it’s the one I know I always have with me. (And even if I did have another camera, what would I use to take pictures of the camera? photographer’s joke 😉 MT
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Visit our Teaching Store to up your photographic game – including Photoshop Workflow DVDs and customized Email School of Photography; or go mobile with the Photography Compendium for iPad. You can also get your gear from B&H and Amazon. Prices are the same as normal, however a small portion of your purchase value is referred back to me. Thanks!
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Thean Hou temple is a famous Buddhist location just outside Kuala Lumpur, popular as a place of worship during the new year and various lunar festivals. It’s also home to various martial arts groups. The temple belongs to the Selangor and Federal Territory Hainanese association, and was constructed from 1981 with funds donated by the community.
This set shot with an Olympus E-PM1 Pen Mini.
I’ve never understood why kitchen windows are always round, but they are. Maybe because square is too much like a hospital or school. Nevertheless, they provide an interesting view into the inner workings of the place where our food comes from. The square format of the D-Lux 5 was perfect for this. MT
Series shot with a Leica D-Lux 5 and M9-P with 35/1.4 ASPH FLE.
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