They May Not Be Professional Photographers.

“Professional Photographer” is an amorphous term. To some, it means a person with an above-average ability to produce photos. You know, Cover of Vogue, 2 page spread in National Geographic, Antonio Brown leaping for a TD pass kind of pics. "Professional Photographers" are the ones who know how to consistently produce images that leave the average person in awe of the skill required to do so.

However, some people who already produce above-average photos-but don't make a living or even get paid for doing so-insist that a “professional photographer” be defined only as those who earn more than 50% of their income from photography. Some of these folks seem to insist on this definition as a way of making sure people realize that they produce “professional quality photos” but they just don't get paid enough to be called professional.

In my experience, most of this type of person use their preferred definition to put down others (“He's not really a professional, so he's no more an expert on photography than I am”). The result is that this income-based definition shows up a lot on photography forums as a method of trying to win arguments rather than be helpful when the subject requires it.

Myself? I learned not to poke the hornets' nest. I let those who insist on that definition have their way. I use “working photographer” to refer to people who are earning some sort of income from their photos, but not making a living from photography (such as myself).

The problem with talking about "professional photographers" is that the average person doesn't think in terms of income percentage when it comes to deeming someone a “professional photographer”. Most people are going to assume that if a person puts up a website and/or has a Craigslist ad, and charges for their work, they must be a “professional photographer”. Reality demonstrates that a number of people charging for their work may be making decent money at it, but don't really have the skills associated with being a “professional grade photographer”.

Think in terms of a local garage band versus a Grammy-winning group. The guys in a local band may be making ends meet from their gigs and CD sales, but that doesn't mean they are on the same level as U2. Most people understand that distinction when it comes to music, but not necessarily when it comes to photography.

I think that's because most people have an easier time telling great music apart from good music, but less so when it comes to photography. While an out of tune singer can literally cause people pain, the photographic equivalent (flawed composition or technique) in a photo often isn't noticed by the average viewer. Those flaws are, however, noticed by experienced photographers. That's what contributes to the arguments about what constitutes a “professional photographer”.

A person will represent himself on a forum as a “professional photographer”, all the while admitting he has only just recently “gotten serious” about photography. I've even seen posts such as “I just started in photography and want to know how much I should charge for a wedding?”. These are often from people who only recently upgraded from a smartphone or point and shoot camera by purchasing a entry level dslr and a couple of kit lenses. Sometimes they been able to buy “pro grade gear” such as a full frame dslr and a higher tier lens or two, but usually they are really out there trying to do “professional photography” when they really are still in the stage of learning the craft.

NOTE: I have nothing against beginners who buy gear with the goal of eventually becoming pros, as long as they realize there is a process that can take years to reach that point of competency, depending on the genre. Yes, there are people who pick up a camera and have a natural talent for photography. That's a rare situation, not a standard by which to decide to start charging people money for photos.

To me it's inordinately selfish to put at risk the memories of a once in a lifetime event because the person trying to be hired for the job lacks the skills and experience to do a truly “professional” job of it. I don't care if that person's friends all told him that he takes “really good” photos and “should be a professional”. That's like telling the guy who is good at scoring touchdowns in a community flag football league that he should turn pro. Yet that is essentially how some people decide to “go pro” as photographers.

My point, (and I do have one), is that not every “professional photographer” is truly a professional. The people hiring some of them are at risk for having weddings, portraits and events poorly documented as a result of the lack of experience, knowledge, and even equipment, on the part of the “professional photographer” they hired.

When I mention gear I'm not necessarily saying that a “pro” must have top of the line cameras and lenses (in fact having better quality lenses is often more important than the camera body). I'm talking about things such as strobes and/or lighting equipment, reflectors, stands for all these lighting items and numerous other accessories that contribute to those “wow” type photos that people see on the websites of the best photographers.

Sure, the best pros may “fix it in post (processing)” but that's only if there was a problem during the shoot. They know how to get everything right before they even capture the image.

Remember, my definition of “professional photographer” includes a level of skill and experience that helps ensure they are providing photos that really stand out compared to the efforts by non-professionals.

So, without further ado (and with apologies to Jeff Foxworthy) here is my “They may not be a professional photographer” list for your consideration:

• If he offers to give you all the photos they take on a CD without editing or limiting the selection to the best photos, he may not be a professional photographer.
• If she charges drastically less than other photographers for the same job, yet offers more photos, she may not be a professional photographer.
• If he thinks a “keeper rate” of 10% is good, he may not be a professional photographer.
• If she says he's a “natural light photographer” and really means that she doesn't know enough about strobes or reflectors to use them, she may not be a professional photographer.
• If he takes over 100 photos during a simple portrait session, and lets the client sort through all of them to choose favorites, he may not be a professional photographer (hint, posing someone can take as much as 50% of the time during a session, so rapid-fire captures is not a good thing. A 15 to 20 solid photos from a 30 minute session is “standard”).
• If she doesn't have clients sign a contract, she may not be a professional photographer.
• If he has only been “doing photography” for a short time (like only a year or two) he may not be a professional photographer.
• If she has prints done by any place other than a lab that offers professional grade services, she may not be a professional photographer.
• If his website has a lot of photos from only a couple of jobs, rather than a variety of shoots and subjects, he may not be a professional photographer.

Anyone is free to charge for their photography. Anyone is free to pay people whatever they want to pay (or can afford) for photography. Some people simply can't afford $800 for senior portraits of $2000 for a wedding. I get that. However, photography is one of those “you get what you pay for” industries. Photographers who charge premium prices are producing results that warrant those prices. People who advertise on Craigslist at rock bottom prices would be charging the higher prices if their skills and results warranted it.

My point here is that if you can afford a $2000 photographer but decide to go with a $200 photographer to save money, you will not get the results you really want. On the other hand, if you can only afford $200, then be careful about who you hire.

On forums I frequent I am constantly seeing posts of photos by people wanting critique. A lot of people respond with “Oh, nice shot” or “great lighting”. Then there are those of us who will say things like “That pose is bad, her head should be tilted back a bit more” or “you cut their legs of right at the ankles: that's unnerving to viewers”, or “the lack of catch-lights make her look like she has shark eyes”. Even something elementary such as “her left eye is out of focus because you used to large an aperture”. These are all things that a truly professional-grade photographer knows about, looks for and addresses before even releasing the shutter.

I'm a teacher at heart, so I love offering feedback. What I don't love is finding out that some pretty mediocre photos are from a paid session, and someone is actually accepting money for photos that I would send to the trash bin. As a working photographer, I have a responsibility to give clients the very best.

If you're looking to hire a photographer, or some “professional photographer” is trying to offer you advice, consider some of what I've said here. I hope that if you do, it might avoid some headaches.

Photography "Experts" Listen to Them, But Don't Listen to Them.

Deciding on which camera to buy can be tough. Between website reviews, youtube videos and the comments by “experts” on various photography forums, it's easy for a person to become baffled by the plethora of factors cited as reasons for buying any given camera. Even the reasons for buying the exact same camera model can vary widely, depending on the “expert” expressing the opinion.

These “experts” range from gearhead fanboys who vociferously promote and defend their favorite brand, to aloof, elitist artistes who sniff at the very idea of discussing specifications because “it's the photographer, not the camera”. Then you will find that 80% of people offering opinions fall somewhere between these 2 extremes. You'll also find that about 80% of these “experts” really don't know as much about photography as they want people to think they do.

You know what I think?

All these people are wrong.

All these people are right.

How can that be?

Because people are wonderfully diverse in how we approach life, view the world and what makes us happy or sad. What puts smile on one person's face causes another to frown. Why else do we have hundreds of different flavors of ice cream?

Photography is a lot like ice cream. Some people like it basic vanilla or chocolate. Others want pralines and cream or even more exotic flavors. And some want to mix scoops for even more variety. I don't hear someone who likes Ben & Jerry's “Truffle Kerfuffle” being told that her choice of ice cream is wrong because Vanilla Fudge Swirl is better. (Then again, I don't visit ice cream websites and forums, so maybe arguments about which ice cream is best are just as heated as arguments about cameras?)

The wonderful variation in human preferences is why both the gearhead fanboys and the elitist artistes are wrong, and right, in their assessments as to what is, or isn't, the best camera to buy. The thing is, that if you like camera gear for it's own sake, and you get enjoyment from knowing the specs and owning a camera that you feel is the best thing going, enjoy that. You deserve to. Don't let anyone tell you you are wrong for being a gearhead, or even a fanboy. Just don't think you can tell others they are wrong for not agreeing with your reasons for and love of the gear you choose.

Are you an artiste who really doesn't care that much about gear, as long as it allows you to take the photos you want? I genuinely salute you for that. You know what you like or love about photography and that is a good place to be. Don't let people put you down because you are more concerned with the photos than the gear that produces them, but don't put others down for their love of the gear itself.

Everyone loves photography for different reasons. Photography is a hobby that allows that. I know people who take outstanding photos with old, antiquated cameras. I know people who own the same cameras who never use them for photos, because they love them as collectibles. I've seen mediocre photos taken with top of the line cameras and lenses, and I've seen breathtaking images produced by smartphones. And vice versa.

The reality is that despite the pontificating of gearhead fanboys and elitist artistes, most people really just want a camera they can pick up and take the best photos they want to take. Best doesn't just mean technical quality: it includes photos that were easy to produce and share with others under a wide variety of conditions. The esoteric minutiae of sensor performance, high ISO noise levels or lens resolution really aren't a big deal for people wanting to capture memories of their kids' activities or a vacation.

Most people will be happy with a basic camera with a zoom lens that covers moderate wide angle to telephoto range. Such a camera doesn't even have to be an interchangeable lens camera (ILC). The “superzoom” or “bridge” cameras can more than handle about 99% of the situations the average person encounters when taking photos. In fact, for a lot of people a bridge camera is a better choice than an ILC because it offers one lens that covers a much wider zoom range without having to fiddle with changing lenses (although you can buy “superzooms” for ILC cameras.)

Statistics show that even among those with ILCs, most photos of general subjects are taken between the 35mm equivalent focal lengths of 24mm and 200mm, which just happens to be around the common zoom range of kit lenses. Some would argue that is because people just use the kit lenses that came with the cameras, but a counter-argument is that kit lenses cover that range because long term statistics show that is the range most general subject photos are taken in.

Even among those who upgrade to premium lenses and/or buy addition wider angle or longer telephoto lenses, most general subject photos they take still fall within a certain range. There are certain genres which require focal lengths that fall outside this “average range of course. In my concert work, about 40% of my photos are taken in the 200mm to 400mm EFL range. That's because a tight close up of a singer whose 20 feet away requires the longer focal length.

What I'm saying is that most people who buy an ILC will be happy with the standard and telephoto zooms that come with the basic kit. Or, a bridge camera (currently these cameras have EFL ranges from about 24mm to 400mm or more.)

You need to remember that the people who present themselves as “experts” on their blogs and on forums are not the type who just want good pictures of the events they record in their lives. They've even gone beyond the idea of a “casual hobbyist” who likes to stroll around with a camera taking photos of what interests her. They are people who consider themselves “serious photographers”, meaning that things like pixel peeping for sharpness or noise, and wanting premium quality lenses, is of utmost importance for their enjoyment of photography.

That's important for them, and they can't be faulted for that. But it may not be as important for you, and you can't be faulted for that either.

The guy who wants the best equipment to take razor sharp, low noise photos of his cat to make 20x30 inch enlargements for his living room is no more of an authority on what other people should buy than the lady who is fine with slightly blurry photos of her cat taken with her phone. He's only an “expert” to other people who want to take razor sharp, low noise photos of their cats and have big enlargements made from them.

One problem with some of these “experts” is they crave the satisfaction of seeing others follow their advice (even if it doesn't really apply) and so have their own decisions and sense of self-importance validated. That is, in fact, how they end up gaining reputations as gearhead fanboys or elitist artistes: they like to tell others what to do, rather than listen and just offer their opinion in a friendly manner.

My advice is to only heed people like that if they are in fact talking about some aspect of photography that you are going to pursue yourself. If you want high quality images of your cat, by all means listen to the guy who uses pro quality gear for his cat photos. Otherwise, feel free to pay no attention to what he's insisting the the best camera, period, because he's only speaking from his own limited milieu. If you start asking him about what's the best set up for taking photos of your child playing soccer that are just going to be shared via Instagram and Facebook, he's probably out of his element.

Even talking to someone of common interest, they should also be discussing how you are going to use the photos. A sports photography who is paid for work that's published in magazines and websites must offer images of a higher technical standard than someone shooting personal sports photos for his Flickr site or Facebook. While an amateur should feel free to buy top of the line gear the pro uses if he wants (and can afford) it, he should also realize that it's not necessary for his end use. What's necessary for him is what gives him satisfaction with his photography, from using the gear he enjoys using, to how the photos look

When it comes down to it, the decision on gear is yours, and should be based on what you feel happy about doing. Ask advice and compare opinions, but don't let anyone tell you what you must buy. It should just be a matter of people telling you the advantages and disadvantages of a given piece of gear for what you want to do and what gives you enjoyment, not what the “expert” prefers. That's because when it comes down to your enjoyment of photography, no one is a better “expert” about that than you are.

Get Yourself a "Nifty Fifty".

“Nifty Fifty” is the pet term photographers have for what is often called a “standard lens”. That term resulted from 50mm lenses being the lens that usually came along with 35mm rangefinders and especially 35mm slrs. The term “standard” also refers to the idea that a lens in that focal length range closely approximates the angle of human vision. In other words, a photo taken with a standard lens is going to look most like what you remember the scene looking like when you viewed it with your naked eyes.

“Nifty Fifty” came about because the lens is, well, nifty. It can be the most inexpensive lens you can buy that still offers top optical quality. It's often small in comparison to other focal lengths, relatively fast so it can be used in a wide range of lighting conditions, and is free of some of the idiosyncrasies found in other focal lengths.

It can also be the best lens to use if you want to really work on your skills when it comes to composition and “photographic seeing”. It's almost counter-intuitive that a lens which gives photographs a “normal” look can force you to look beyond the normal into what makes for an effective photograph.

An added benefit is that unless you buy a fast, premium grade “Nifty Fifty” the lens can also be very lightweight and compact, lending to an easier walk-around kit to carry with you more often.

Keep in mind that 50mm is the “Equivalent Focal Length” of a variety of lens types. That 50mm is “standard for Full Frame cameras such as the newly announced Nikon D850 and other cameras that have sensors the same size as a 35mm film frame. If you are using APS-C, then a 35mm lens is going to be closer to the “Nifty Fifty” range due to the crop factor. For Micro Four Thirds it would be a 25mm lens.

At this point you may be asking why bother with a fixed focal length (prime) lens in an age were zoom lenses offer outstanding quality and versatility. Why deal with having to walk back and forth to get the right framing when a twist of a zoom ring can do the same thing more quickly and easily?

Technically, there is the fact that a typical standard prime is at least 1 stop faster than a zoom lens covering the same range. If you're using a kit zoom, which typically has a maximum aperture of f3.5 to f4, your talking about 2 stops, maybe more. That is enough to make the difference between a messy, blurry shot in low light and one that is clear and lower in noise.

Also, that larger aperture is going to lend itself to the shallower depth of field and out of focus background that is a popular aspect of portraits. So if you want to achieve that look without paying a lot of money for fast zoom lenses, a 50mm EFL lens is a good way to get started.

Remember I said the “Nifty Fifty” is a good lens to use if you are wanting to hone your skills? Those few seconds it may take you to get the right framing may also lead you to think a bit more about how to make sure the photo turns out best. We live in a fast-paced world and our cameras are designed for that. However, there are times where the best photographs result from taking some time to previsualize the final result, and even whether or not the photo is worth taking.

That's one of my main reasons for recently buying a small, fully manual 25mm f1.8 lens (50mm EFL on my Micro Four Thirds cameras). I've started a personal project that is intended to expand how I “see photographically” and explore new territory when it comes to the sort of images I want to produce and sell. It's a gem of a lens made by a newer company called “7 Artisans”. Right now they only offer 4 lenses, but it looks like they tapped right into the recent trend of offering small, manual prime lenses with solid performance. (The 7 Artisan lenses are only available for certain mirrorless systems right now, so if you own a dslr you will need to take advantage of the many good lenses available from other companies.)

As I walk around with this lens, I take more time to really look at things I am about to capture with my camera. The very act of taking the extra time to focus and make exposure adjustments also gives me time to look at what is in the viewfinder and consider how it's going to look as a photograph. This has led to me being more thoughtful in choosing and composing photos. I'm finding myself deciding not to capture some scenes that I would have just grabbed in the past and then decided in post processing whether the image worked or not.

It's taken me back to the old days when I could only afford so many rolls of film a month and so had to make sure every shot counted.

The lens also has its own “look” that is subtly different from my premium grade zooms. Part of this is the 12 bladed aperture which gives almost perfectly round out of focus highlights and introduces a star effect on light sources even at large apertures. A lens like that promotes a particular style, and that's actually what I'm looking to do.

Whether you own Canon, Nikon, Sony, Pentax, Olympus, Panasonic, Fuji or any brand of camera (whether digital or film) you should invest in a “Nifty Fifty” if you haven't already. If you have one and haven't been using it, dust it off and try going on photo forays with just that 1 lens. It may be a bit frustrating at first, but eventually you'll find yourself doing a lot more “photographic seeing” than simply trying to capture a nice photo.

Do You Really Need a "Pro Level" Camera?

For as long as I've been seriously involved in photography (40 years), manufacturers have evoked the idea of professionals and “professional results” for their cameras. This applies even to lower tier and even entry level models. For instance, when I was shopping for my first 35mm SLR back in 1977, Canon had ads touting the AE-1 as being used by professionals. Did that mean the AE-1, a camera with decidedly beginner-oriented features and price, was a “professional camera”? It was used by professionals.

What is a “professional camera” anyway? Perhaps a more relevant question is “Who really needs a professional camera, and why?”

During the film era, when both entry level and flagship cameras alike used the same film and lenses, the pro cameras were the ones with the most features, greatest durability and highest price tag. They came with features such as motor drives, interchangeable viewfinders and focusing screens, a wider range of shutter speeds and in some cases, better metering systems and a plethora of accessories. They were designed to help professional photographers produce images under as wide a variety of conditions and situations as possible, and provide reliable functioning despite physical abuse and hundreds of thousands of shutter actuations.

They didn't actually take better pictures though. A $200 SLR used the same film and lenses as a $1000 flagship model. Often, amateurs bought pro cameras because of the allure of the camera itself, not necessarily because their photos would turn out better. Marketing people were very aware of this and worked the angle as much as possible.

Things changed-a bit-as photography progressed from film to digital. For years, a pro level camera body could indeed have a sensor system which produced better overall image quality under a greater range of lighting conditions than lower tier cameras did. It could legitimately be argued that a Nikon D2 would give better results than a Nikon D60, because of a much better sensor.

That performance gap has narrowed over the years, even to the point where “full frame” sensors are now available in cameras that have a price point that was unheard of 10 years ago. Apart from that, sensor technology has improved so much that the differences between tiers within a system, and even between m4/3, APS-C and FF have become marginal in most shooting situations. As a result, the idea that a pro level camera will produce better-looking photos no longer applies to most situations.

The fact is that right now, a $400 entry level camera can produce images that are good enough that most people can't tell them apart from those taken with a $5000 flagship model.

So why do pros still invest in pro level cameras, if the photos look so much alike. The answer is the same reasons why pros bought flagship models during the film era. Durability/reliability and features.

Here are my own reasons for choosing the top of the line (at the time) Olympus OMD EM-1 over less expensive Olympus models, even though the sensors were essentially the same.

• Shutter construction. The shutter is rated (unofficially) at 200,000 actuations. While for most people, this represents years, or even decades of use, for me it's more like 3 to 4 years, and that because I use 2 bodies for my work. Will the camera suddenly fail at actuation number 200,001? Of course not. But this spec tells me the camera is built to last a longer time than a camera rated at only 100,000 actuations, or not rated at all. (My lower tier 4/3 bodies were showing their age at less than 100K actuations.)

• Overall construction. The EM-1 is machined from metal and weather-sealed overall. It feels very solid in my hands, giving me confidence that it's meant to take a beating that lesser cameras may not survive. What does the weather-sealing do for me? I was shooting an outdoor concert when it began to rain, hard. The performance continued, and I kept shooting, because both the camera and my lenses were designed to keep function in just this sort of situation.

• Control options. The EM-1 has a dial around the shutter, a thumb dial, and about half a dozen levers and buttons I can customize to perform various functions. Instead of having to dive into a menu to perform functions such as switching auto focus or exposure modes, I just toggle a lever or push a button.

• Legacy-friendly features. My go-to lens for about 80% of my concert work is the Olympus 50-200 f2.8 to 3.5 zoom lens. It's made for the older 4/3 system. Used on lower tier m4/3 cameras, if focuses pretty slowly. Because the EM-1 was designed with pros in mind who would want to still use 4/3 lenses, I actually get faster AF now than when I used the lens on the lower tier 4/3 cameras I used to use.

• “What If” features. There are some capabilities of the EM-1 that I don't currently have much need for, but it's nice to know they are there. It has a PC socket, so if I ever find myself using older strobes which require a PC cord, I can do so. It also has burst rate up to 11 fps. I don't shoot sports, but every once in a while I do find that high a burst rate useful for a dance show or with highly animated performers.

This isn't my EM-1, but I have gotten mine this wet before. 

All these features considered, could I produce equally good images with the entry level EM-10 Mk2? Absolutely. In fact, some aspects of the IQ from that camera might be a bit better, because it has a newer sensor. The thing is, the features of the EM-1 flagship model make for a better workflow and shooting experience, as well as the confidence that I'm going to be able to use my cameras for years to come.

Now, what does all this have to do with the title of this article?

Simple: if a $400 camera can give you essentially the same image quality as a $1500 or even a $5000 camera, why spend the extra money?

The answer is that you don't really need to. With many manufacturers, things like weather-sealing, more than adequate burst rate and a plethora of features can be found on lower tier and even entry-level cameras. As far as my bullet points are concerned, consider these factors:

• Most people will find themselves wanting a newer camera with the latest features and best sensor performance long before their current camera is ready to retire due to usage.

• Weather-sealing is also more common now on lower tier cameras, and few people really need the level of durability that flagship cameras offer.

• Likewise, few people need the extended shooting capability that top tier pro models offer when it comes to low light capabilities.

• Unless you are an enthusiast or plan on getting that serious about photography, the basic level of control any camera offers is more than enough for most picture taking situations.

• Unique or rarely used features apply to unique or rarely encountered situations. Don't pay extra for a camera with a PC socket or ultra high burst rate if you are only going to ever use on camera or built in flash and 5 or 6 fps is more than enough for kids' soccer games.

The bottom line is that in about 95% of situations, those awe-inspiring professional cameras don't produce photos that look any better than the entry level cameras occupying the shelves at Best Buy or the “most popular” ranking on Amazon.com. In fact, I have some photos taken with my smartphone that I would have to “pixel peep” or look at the EXIF data to verify that they weren't taken with my pro grade EM-1.

Here's a “secret” to better photographs that seems to elude a lot of “experts” on which camera models to own for the best image quality. It's the lenses. For the most part, you're better off buying a lower tier camera and investing in better lenses than buying a higher tier body (as long as you don't need the sort of features discussed above).

Another “secret” is this: save some money on gear and instead spend it on classes or books about photography. That's how pros get to be pros. We learn how to make the most out of any cameras we have due to knowledge and experience, then buy the cameras we need to get the job done.

How a B-17 Bomber Became More Than an Airplane to Me.

"Aluminum Overcast" a B-17G  built in May of 1945. She never saw combat, but still served in various capacities for over a decade.

 I've loved aircraft of all types for as long as I can remember. Since I'm a “Baby Boomer”, and the son of a World War 2 Army Air Corps veteran, the “war birds” of that era were especially appealing to me. Among my favorites of the many models hanging from my bedroom ceiling and scattered about shelves and desktops was the the B-17, the redoubtable “Flying Fortress” that is almost synonymous with the idea of American Air Power during the war.

What added to that plane's allure, perhaps, was that my father flew in one during the war as a radio operator (also on a B-29 later in the war). He didn't talk a lot about the war, and I remember only once that he talked about being shot down over the Pacific. He and the rest of the survivors spent a couple of days floating in life rafts until a Catalina flying boat picked them up. He said his most vivid memory of that was the smell of burning flesh. I was young, and after I wrinkled my nose as I realized the implications of that, he changed the subject.

My affection for the Flying Fortress has led me to spend extra moments viewing them in museums, and greatly enjoying the time I saw one in flight at an air show. But I never had the chance to actually board one until recently, when the “Aluminum Overcast” came to Cedar Rapids for a 3 day event, featuring both flight opportunities and ground tours. I couldn't afford the flight, but I was bound and determined to make the most of the ground tour.

At age 58, I still felt like a kid going to a carnival as I walked into the hangar with the “Aluminum Overcast” parked about 100 yards away. Capturing photos that showed the marvel of this piece of history was a given, but I had a deeper, more personal goal in mind for this tour. I wanted to sit in the radio operator's seat, and by doing so connect in a way with my father who's been dead nearly 20 years.

Imagine the outrage of some if planes today had this sort of nose art on them.

I did a walk-around, taking a lot of photos but also stopping to just look, and feel. Something about standing under the wing and running my hand across the surface, empathetically sensing the history behind this particular aircraft, and B-17s in general, was life-affirming for me. It offered a solid reminder of what those who fought in World War 2 went through, and why they offered to make the ultimate sacrifice. History has always been a love of mine, and a tangible piece of history like the “Aluminum Overcast” all the more so.

The bombadier's position in the nose, the famous Norden bombsight and the chin turret with 2 .50 caliber machine guns that made the "G" model B-17 unique. This brought the total number of guns on the plane to 13.

My plan, after thoroughly exploring the exterior, was to climb up through the front hatch into the cockpit. That's when I discovered that a middle aged, 300 lbs man with bad knees isn't meant to board a bomber through a hatch and compartment meant for fit young men who averaged about 5' 9” in height and around 150 lbs in weight. It took some twisting and contorting, but I made it. Whew!

“Ya know, in the movies, it looks much bigger than it really is!”

The pilot's position. Notice the modern avionics and headset. This is required to make the plan compatible with modern FAA requirements, as well as simply making the plane safer and easier to fly.

I sat on a bench behind the pilot's seat, taking photos and watching people come up the way I'd come, then continue aft via the catwalk through the bomb bay. Seeing a guy about 150 lbs lighter than me have to squeeze between the struts supporting the catwalk brought me to the realization that I was not going to be taking that route to the aft compartments.

Getting out of the cockpit and through the forward hatch proved easier once I decided to put my camera back in my bag and take the bag off my shoulder.

As if things weren't tight enough up front, this is the ball turret. Ball turret gunners were always the smallest men in the crew, usually shorter than 5'4", and even then it was a tight fight. The gunner had to look through his legs to target enemy aircraft.

Entering through the aft hatch was a snap compared to my adventure forward. I took my time taking photos and examining various details of the interior. I noticed just how thin the control cables actually are. How the plane would rock when the wind gusted. How it creaked with each footstep. Flying in a B-17 must have been daunting enough without the prospect of going into combat.

Looking forward from the aft hatch. The seats are remarkably similar to the ones in the C-130s and Chinook helicopters I flew in on airborne ops. In fact, the interior of "Aluminum Overcast" reminded me of the interior of a Chinook.

As other visitors moved on, I worked my way forward to the compartment where the radio operator sat. I looked at the position and imagined my father sitting there. Then I sat in the chair and just closed my eyes for a moment.

Connection.

The radio operator's position. I sat there and tried to imagine how my father felt on the long flights over the Pacific Ocean from various airbases on small islands to Japanese held islands that were the targets of their missions.

It dawned on me that, since I'd been a Communications Specialist in US Army Special Forces, I had more in common with my father than I'd previously considered. That thought had never occurred to me until that moment, as I sat there in the position he once occupied in a different plan, looking at equipment that, even though it was outdated, I recognized how to operate. Though my father has been dead nearly 20 years, at that moment he became more alive to me than he had since he passed away.

While the radio set itself is quite different from the one I used when I was in Special Forces, the headphones and Morse Code key are very similar.

I exited the plane with a range of emotions and thoughts that I am still processing. My father's time in the war is now a bit more real to me. With that is the realization that he was part of a crew that killed people, because that is what the B-17 was meant to do. It was a weapon, designed to kill people on the ground and in the air (defensively).

The primary purpose of the B-17 was to drop bombs on the enemy. These bombs in the starboard section of the bomb bay are dummy bombs, and each bears the name of someone who worked on restoring "Aluminum Outcast".

While “Aluminum Overcast” never saw combat (it was built in May 1945 and so only saw use in non-combat roles) the planes my father flew in did. He was there as bombs were dropped on Japanese positions. He fired a .50 caliber machine gun at Japanese planes that attacked his aircraft. Even if he didn't shoot down any planes, he was still party to dropping bombs.

Do I fault him for that? Of course not. My words about the B-17 being a weapon aren't meant as criticism of the brave men who manned them during the war. They are meant to reflect my growing sense of disappointment with my own species, my fellow Homo Sapiens who are so devoted to killing one another that we design aircraft as magnificent as the B-17 to accomplish that task.

I also question my own life-long love of “war birds”. I consider the disconnect involved in feeling such an admiration and affection for a plane like the B-17, even though its express purpose is to end the life of other human beings. Why do I still not feel what I think should be adequate repugnance at the idea?

Perhaps the answer lies, in part, with my own mind set from having served in the Army. Those who fight the wars seldom start them, or even want to be fighting them. They do what they do because they feel it's the right thing to do, and often it boils down to trying to stay alive and preserve the lives of their comrades, such as the crew of a single B-17. When leaders refuse to prefer peace to conflict, often those who are willing fight are left with no choice but to do so.

I would that we could relegate every weapon of war ever made to museum pieces meant to remind us of a period of species wide insanity that we finally outgrew.

I realize that my love of planes like the B-17 has matured from a childhood fascination bathed in ignorance of just how heinous war is, to an understanding that these machines, these magnificent flying weapons, embody the virtues of those who are willing to fight, and die, for their loved ones back home. My father never wanted to kill anyone, but he was willing to in order to keep those he loved from being killed. Somehow, after touring “Aluminum Outcast” and sitting in the position my father once sat in on a plane long since gone, I understand a little better who he was. 

On Being Cool.

My parents were pretty cool. Sure, it took some time for me to realize it-about 50 years-but once I really thought about how they lived their lives, I was impressed by just how cool they really were. No, they didn't set any trends. They didn't even participate much in trends. Nor were they particularly talented. In fact, they were pretty ordinary, except for one thing:

Flamingo Pink shutters. And a front door to match. Not Pale Pink, or Rose Pink, but bright, shocking Flamingo Pink that you could almost hear on a bright summer day. It was actually more of a “Shocking Pink”, but my parent's kept saying it was Flamingo Pink, so who was I to argue?

While this may have been normal in parts of Miami or other communities further south, in Northern Virginia, just outside of Washington D.C. it was not the norm.

When my parents bought the house I grew up in, a nice 3 bedroom, brick split level ranch, the ornamental shutters were painted white. This wouldn't do, because my mother's favorite color was Flamingo Pink (or alternately Coral Pink). The house was brand new. The neighborhood was still undergoing construction, so we didn't even have grass growing in the yard, just the weird green stuff they sprayed on lawns back then to make it look better until the grass seed took root. Yet, the first thing my father did was paint the shutters Flamingo Pink.

As the neighborhood grew, everyone else kept their shutters white, or some other innocuous color such as gray, slate blue, maybe a pale yellow. Occasionally black (which got the kids in the neighborhood telling stories about the evil things that went on there). People driving by our house were immediately struck by just how much the shutters stood out not only from the the 30 foot high brick wall, but from every other house in the neighborhood.

My mother didn't care: that was her favorite color. My father loved my mother enough to do whatever he could to make her happy, even if he knew there were some comments about other families in the neighborhood about just how shockingly pink our shutters were. I remember at times I wished my parents were better at conforming, shutter-wise, to the standards of the neighborhood. At other times I felt pride in being different.

It wasn't until years later, when I was old enough to stop caring if people snickered at how I dressed or looked, that I realized how utterly cool those pink shutters, and my parents, were.

You see, coolness is a matter of sticking to what you want to do, not out of rebellion or trying to look special, but simply because it makes you happy. A lot of people think being cool consists of dressing, acting and speaking in a way that others desire to emulate. That's not really being cool, it's being pretentious. That's because genuine coolness requires some originality. Without originality, attempts at being cool just end up as follow the fad efforts that really only impress other unoriginal thinkers.

Being different just to make a statement or rebel from the norm isn't necessarily cool either. It's often just being childish. That's because another factor in being truly cool, besides originality, is self-confidence. Rebellion isn't a sign of self-confidence. In fact, it's usually a sign of insecurity or resentment. Real self-confidence is following a preferred path because that path involves contentment, satisfaction and happiness.

My parents had the self-confidence that comes from loving each other enough to be willing to please each other without concern as to what others thought about it. You don't get much cooler than that.

Shocking Flamingo Pink shutters in a neighborhood of pastel or earth tone shutters certainly requires a degree of self-confidence.

That coolness on the part of my parents extended to how they landscaped the big slope that made up a large part of the back yard. After laying in several tons of blue granite walls and concrete walkways to keep things from sliding away in a heavy rain, we planted a ton, literally, of creeping phlox in white, blue and, yes, pink. After they began creeping (as is their purpose) the entire hill would erupt in a riotous mosaic of white, blue and pink every summer. People driving by would slow down to look at the sight, it was so glorious. They would of course see the Flamingo Pink shutters as well.

I like to think they would drive off muttering “That was so cool”.

When and Why a Pro is Needed, and When One Isn't.

The above image is from a show I did for a friend. She heads up an organization called The Hook, which is dedicated to promoting and presenting things such as spoken word performances,writers' workshops etc. She wanted someone she knew was experienced in capturing this sort of performance and would deliver the sort of photos she wanted to have, both as a record of the event and to promote The Hook and future events.

She made sure she had a budget to pay for my work. She's professional enough to not ask for a "G.W.C." (Guy With Camera) to do the show for free. Two reasons for this. One, being a professional herself, she doesn't like being expected to perform or do a workshop for free.Two, she knows that when it comes to photography, you often get what you pay for.

It's not just that I have the gear to get a photo like this. Anyone can buy the same gear. The fact is, too often people think that obtaining "professional gear" then means they can embark upon what they think is a professional level of photography. I see it on photography forums all the time: people with expensive gear asking questions about how to do a certain job they are going to be paid for. The fact is, they should be learning that before they buy the gear, because that knowledge takes time and experience to hone to a level where it justifies taking money for a job.

What my friend paid for, what any paying client expects, is my skill and experience. My style of photography as well. In this particular case, I knew how to anticipate what was going on onstage with this dancer, and caught a moment that defines this particular part of the performance. Knowing how to take hundreds of such photos during a show (or wedding, or other event) is what makes for a "true professional". That's someone who consistently delivers a body of  images that are recognizably better than what people using their own cameras or smartphones capture. 

Note two important things I said "consistently" and "body of images". This is one of over 500 images from the show. It's one of 34 that I did a complete edit on, because that is part of what I was hired to do, present her with a certain number of images that she could immediately use for whatever purposes she chose. The other 499 images are .jpegs straight out of the camera, with the only edits being deleting those that either had technical flaws or were simply badly timed shots.

That's the next step, editing. This particular photo is cropped to the best composition and processed to reduce noise, minimize distracting elements and make the dancer look as appealing as possible (not hard, as she is lovely and has flawless skin). That's the other skill a pro brings, knowing how to make the photos look better than what comes out of the camera.

If I wanted to (or if she paid extra) I could deliver at least another 50 photos that I would consider "prime material". By that I mean photos that would compliment a website, or be good for a poster or press kit, or in the personal portfolio of one of the performers. That's where the consistency comes in. My friend has over 500 images, nearly all of which can ultimately used without any doubt regarding consistent quality. 

Yes, many of the images are simply slight variations in expression, or position. However, that is what a client can and should expect, because while I may feel that image A is the best choice, the client may prefer image B. My job is to offer a consistent selection for review. 

How many photos did I actually take (meaning, what's my "keeper" rate)? 

Just over 600.  Yes, that's right: my "keeper" rate for this show was about 85%. That's what a professional should expect of him/herself, and offer to his/her clients. People who are happy with 10% or 20% keeper rates shouldn't try to offer their work for a fee. They will not only shortchange their clients, but also spend a lot of wasted time sorting through photos that shouldn't even have been taken.

One final note: this was a live show, not a dress rehearsal. Normally I would shoot a dress rehearsal in order to have as much freedom to move around as I could without disturbing audience members. That simply didn't work out for this shoot. So, I had to make sure that I got the shots I needed working from the sides and back, without obstructing the view of audience members. I know how to do that. I've watched too many people get in the way of audience members as they try to get a good shot.

So, here's when and why a professional (meaning one with the proper experience and knowledge, not just someone with decent gear trying to snag some paying gigs):

• When you need consistent results that stand apart from what the average person produces. Experience and knowledge are worth paying for. You're paying a professional photographer for his or her judgment, not just for some photos.
• When you need a body of work that offers a solid and varied selection of images, all of which are suitable for display or publication. NOT just 10 or 20 good images and a few hundred included on a CD that are marginal to outright bad.
• When you need images that fulfill an expectation you have regarding quality as it relates to what the images are meant to be used for.
• When you don't want to risk having someone tell you that they had problems that kept you from receiving the photos you expected.
• When you don't want to look back and think "Sheesh, I could have done this well myself".

This last point brings up the second half of this article, when you don't need a professional. There were a number of people at this show using their smart phones and tablets to capture photos and video. (There was a professional videographer there as well). Some of these people were related to the actors, writers, choreographers etc., so they were capturing images for personal archives. To them, it didn't matter how a photo or video taken from 12 rows back with the sort of wide angle lens found on a phone or tablet would look. They were making a personal record of the event to keep and to share on Facebook, Instagram and other online venues.

They were making personal memories, and so technical considerations, as well as the sort of expectations a professional would have, were moot. Sure, some were making efforts at decent composition. I even saw one person making exposure compensation adjustments on her smart phone camera. For the most part, though, these were stills and video intended to preserve the memory of the event, just as photos and home movies have for generations. 

When people look at photos of a loved one in a play, they don't usually stop to analyze the technical aspects of the image, or whether the composition is conforming to the Rule of Thirds. They are making an emotional connection to the event through the image. 

That is actually something that a pro may not be able to provide. The image above certainly involves the emotion of the moment, and to many people will provide an emotional connection of some sort to the dancer. But it's just not quite the same as an image taken by the dancer's mother or brother or a friend.That's because my image is, ultimately, a bit impersonal, as I don't have a relationship with the dancer beyond having taken her photo during a performance.

A pro isn't necessarily needed when photos that embrace a personal relationship and/or special memory is involved. In fact, the way a pro produces photos can even interfere with creating the sort of emotionally connected image people produce on their own. Sometimes a pro's judgment is, well, too professional. It's too clinical and steeped in assessing the technical and aesthetic standards that warrant being paid for photography. 

For example: when I worked at a portrait studio, I was constantly surprised by the photos people would choose to have printed. Sometimes they were just plain bad when it came to capturing the subject at his or her best. However, to the person who chose that particular pose, there was something about the image that connected with them. My place was not to argue with the choice, but to say "Excellent" and proceed with the order.

So, you don't necessarily need a professional photographer when you are wanting to capture images that have an emotional connection or help revisit the memory of a special event. Or even just a keepsake of everyday life. If you ever hear anyone say that such photos you took aren't very good, just tell them that since it's your photo, it's as good as it needs to be. 

Don't Shelve Your Camera Just Because It's Cold Outside.

Cattails in a small pond take on an entirely different aesthetic when photographed in the middle of winter.

Once the holidays are past, winter tends to be a time when many people leave their cameras on the shelf or in the closet. The cold, snowy weather tends to discourage some people from venturing out to take photos. Sometimes this is because they have tried taking photos in snowy conditions and the results have been unsatisfactory. Winter conditions can be challenging to those who don't have some basic understanding of how to shoot in either cloudy, dreary weather or with lots of snow around.

There are two primary things to remember when shooting in snowy conditions. First is that you will almost always have to increase exposure by 1 to 2 stops (EV) in order to have snow that actually looks like snow. This is because even the most sophisticated camera metering system is designed to expose a scene relative to 18% grey. Years ago, camera makers decided that the majority of scenes average out to 18% grey, and so programmed reflected light meters to expose for that tonality.

The problem is, snow is white, not grey. But the meter in your camera doesn't know whether you are photographing snow or a nice, warm meadow on a summer afternoon. I see lots of winter photos what are dreary and grey because the person didn't know about increasing the EV to “overexpose” the scene (according to the meter) in order to make sure snow turns out white. Adjusting the exposure to +1 to +2 EV is pretty easy with most cameras, with either a dial or a menu setting being easily accessed to do so. Experiment a bit to find the results you like.

The other area of concern is white balance. Most cameras do a pretty good job of adjusting white balance automatically, but snowy conditions are problematic because snow reflects so much more light than other surfaces (including “blue” wavelengths). What happens is that reflected light fills in shadows more than usual, and the blue portion of the light, normally absorbed by things like grass or other less reflective surfaces, causes things in the shadows to take on a blue color cast.

One way of dealing with this is to set white balance to shade or cloudy rather than daylight. This tends to warm things up just a bit. Sometimes, a camera's automatic white balance is good enough this isn't necessary. Whatever the case, again you should experiment with settings to find what works best and gets the results you want with your camera. Keep in mind, you can always make minor adjustments with most editors in post processing.

Now that the main technical issues are out of the way, what if all that coldness just keeps you from being inspired enough to take your camera out? That's a reasonable point of view, as not everyone appreciates the photographic potential of a “winter wonderland”. The potential for some unique and interesting photos is certainly there, but as with anything photographic, it takes determination on the part of the photographer to pull it all together.

Of course, simply recording the weather for the sake of remembrance is enough for some, but I want to encourage even “keepsake shooters” to stretch yourselves and find ways of making photos that show you've stretched your creative boundaries and made photos, rather than simply recording what is in front of you.

The photo above is an example. We were out in some nice, icy weather (temps in the low 20s and falling as the sun went down). I'd looked at a lot of possible photos through my viewfinder, and nothing really stood out as worth taking. Then I stopped looking for “obvious” photos and thought on a more basic level. Once I did that, I saw the wonderful abstract patterns in the ice and snow covering the lake we were by. (In this particular case, the blue cast issue snow presents actually worked in favor of good images.)

In fact, winter is an especially good time for abstract photos because of the high level of contrast so often found as well as the fact that snow blankets surfaces and removes details. Even the fact that most trees are leafless contributes to excellent abstract potential. This same chair on a deck is a pretty boring subject during the summer months, but with a covering of new-fallen snow it takes on a different aura.

Then there is something simple and challenging like capturing a drop of water falling from a melting ice cycle. Getting the timimg right along with decent lighting makes the photo doubly attractive.

Don't let cold, snowy conditions discourage you from getting out with your camera and making images that satisfy your creative urges and you enjoy sharing.