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Updated: Oct 1, 2023

My initial artist's vision was to setup a scene in a local park one early morning using the natural light during the "golden hour" just after sunrise, to give everything a mystical hue. I was going to have some sort of action scene with a few dinosaur toys, fighting and froliking in the grass. Most importantly I was going to set those fuckers on fire with a butane torch.


In my mind's eye I was picturing some nice, close shots as their faces melted and distorted, as running plastic dripped from their ferocious teeth as it were some surreal nightmare. I wanted to do it in the park so I didn't burn down my apartment building, and I wanted to do it in the morning so there were less people to call the police on me for setting fires in public. I think, all those were sensible choices.


But, poor preparation leads to poor results. And I had no idea how it would actually turn out vs what I had in my head. Furthermore, it was also my first shoot with my new macro lens, which is specifically used to magnify the photos, so it would be a learning experience in that realm as well. So I choose to do a smaller scale shoot on my balcony instead with some of the other plastic figurines I had already purchased for my prop collection. Sometimes you need a proof of concept before you move onto the big show.


As I sat down to prepare, I couldn't help but reminisce about a "photo shoot" I did by myself as a young 20 year old. I had once set a Santa hat on fire in the middle of my apartment in some vague attempt at ironic statement about holidays or something else stupid. Looking back, it was a stunning showcase of my intelligence that I'm glad didn't end up a disaster, but I was at least smart enough to have a fire extinguisher nearby in case of the worst scenario. I might not be an idiot, but I'm definitely on that spectrum.


Unrelated to my original scenario, in the fridge I had some leftover key lime pie that I wanted to put to use. How it ties into the melting animal toy concept, I dunno. I think the toasted meringue on the dessert itself is what first sprung to mind. At the time, it made sense. I also thought that the colours from the plastic might run down and create a nifty design on top of the sugar as it cooled, but it didn't turn out the way I expected (which is why we test). The plastic just crisped up and blackened rather than become a running liquid. It's probably good I didn't do it all in the park and risk a public disturbance charge against me for nothing.


One aspect of the shoot that I thought of (though probably not enough) is whether the close proximately of the fire to my new lens would affect anything. At best, could it interfere in the shots, at worst could it permanently ruin my equipment. As far as I can tell the heat had no effect on my lens, but honestly I'm still learning, and I'm still figuring out how to calibrate and evaluate my gear correctly. So for all I know I've screwed the pooch and just can't tell. The joys of being a beginner.


The other consideration I hadn't fully taken into account is how to photograph fire itself. I didn't realize how difficult it can be to capture the essence of what's happening in front of my lens. Fire has a life of its own, constantly moving and shifting like over sugared children, making it uber tricky to get the right shot. I had to adjust my camera settings and experiment with different angles until I was able to achieve something that looked like it was properly in focus without losing all of the detail of the other elements in the scene.


Once I had burned that poor little tiger up until it didn't even look much like a feline, I choose to try and spice things up a bit further. My wife let me borrow a trinket of hers, a small plastic skull she had owned for years, which then I paired with a few of my dog's removed teeth that I had in a jar from a surgery a month prior. Why did I keep those teeth? I don't have an answer to that either. Why did they give them to me, I suppose? Boy, did those things stink to high heaven though. I obviously didn't wash them when I was given them, because I'm not a weirdo. So they were still covered in dry, stale blood. Logically. Did any of it result in a cohesive photoshoot? Not at fucking all. Was it visually interesting? Mission accomplished.


In the end, I got some pics that I was happy with, even if I didn't get the molten dinosaur fever dream I initially envisioned. Since then I've yet to try to make that first idea happen, given I didn't quite get the dripping effect I wanted. Maybe a different type of plastic would work better. Who knows. I'll probably burn more things in the future. With or without photography being involved. So I've got time to find all of that out. Either that or the chemicals from everything I burn will eventually kill me. Whichever comes first.

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My love for macro photography started at an early age. It all started with me playing with pre-broken toys from Goodwill and setting up elaborate dioramas and scenes on my bedroom floor before taking pictures with old disposable cameras. I would eagerly take the cameras to the back of a pharmacy with crossed fingers, hoping that the pictures would turn out well. They served no purpose other than being evidence of something I had "created". Looking back, it was the excitement of not knowing how the photos would turn out that made it so thrilling. It was a creative gamble that took time to tell if it paid off.


Macro photography is unique because it allows us to see the world from a perspective that humans are not otherwise capable of. With it, we can capture details that the humans cannot discern with the naked eye, and this opens up a whole new world of beauty that we might not have realized existed from our level so high and far from everything that's normally too small to care about.


Of course, the technology required to take micro photographs has come quite far since my days with disposable cameras. Those were never true macro pictures, I just took the photos really close. In fact, today's macro lenses are specifically designed to be able to capture small subjects at a high magnification, so photographers can capture incredible detail in even the smallest of subjects. Additionally, advances in lighting technology, particularly LED ring lights and other specialized lighting, have greatly increased the quality and ease of macro photography.


When it comes to the specific skillset required to take macro photographs, it can be quite different from other types of photography. There's a bit of relearning framing, where to emphasis focus, not to mention the different technical aspects of their camera equipment and understand how it effects the ins and outs of aperture, ISO, and shutter speed. They must also be patient and willing to experiment with different techniques and angles to get the perfect shot.


One of the most challenging aspects of macro photography is capturing images of insects and food. For insects, the photographer must be careful not to frighten or disturb the tiny creature, because even the slightest movement may mean a mandible out of focus, while also dealing with the challenging environment of outdoor lighting if shooting in a natural setting. Food, on the other hand, can be incredibly challenging to capture because it requires a higher attention to detail to showcase its best attributes. A single fry out of place, or an errant hair could ruin an otherwise perfect shot, which would otherwise remain unnoticed in a portrait or other regular photograph. The photographer must carefully set up the shot to exact specifications, paying attention to lighting and angles, while also ensuring the food looks appetizing and appealing (which suprisingly deteriorates fast).


There's an intricacy to it that I just don't find present in most of the other genres of photos. Perhaps that's just my personal preference coming into play. I'm sure photographers who specialize in other styles would argue differently. I think most people like to think of their specialty as being the truly unique option. People search for a sense of purpose and perfection. Nobody wants to do something useless at a poor level of quality. It's natural that we put more effort and care into things that we enjoy. So a nature photographer is going to have a vastly different outlook on his work compared to someone who documents sports, or takes pictures of beautiful models.


Macro photography is a challenging yet rewarding field that allows us to capture the world in ways that are not visible to the human eye. It requires a unique set of skills and techniques, and it can be incredibly frustrating at times, but in the end, it is all worth it to capture the details that make our world so beautiful. Personally, I think the world can do with a little more of that.


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Updated: Oct 1, 2023

I found myself in a bit of a predicament. I had a large bag of expired dog food that I didn't feel comfortable feeding to my own pup, since it contains traces of meat that might go rancid. If I certainly wouldn't want to eat it, even if I was (more) of a dog, that wouldn't be my top canine choice. Being a cheapass, I didn't want to just throw it away, as that would obviously be a waste of both money and food. Instead, I decided to try and create some sort of scene that would be suitable for an imaginary advertisement for a fictitious client that would absolutely not hire me.


I spent over an hour setting up the scene, carefully placing the dodgy dog food and various bitey paraphernalia in a way that would catch the eye of the viewer. I couldn't help but wonder, if a dog could not only comprehend my pictures...but appreciate the human intent, would they start salivating? Like when people view "food porn" and get hungry and end up ordering Uber Eats. Could there be food porn for puppies? The thought made me smile, imagining all the pups out there who might be drooling over the image. Thinking one day for their birthday, their owner would buy them that exact toy.


Unfortunately, just as I started taking the actual pictures after a lengthy setup, I realized that the constantly shifting sun was ruining a lot of the shots I had intended to take. Woof. I then had to move my entire setup multiple times just to get the right lighting that wasn't covering half my display in shade. Since this project was being done on my balcony with limited space, the jostling around to maneuver constantly screwed up my otherwise deliberately staged props. Not to mention the physical impact of spending hours of my afternoon hovering over this ugly as sin photoshoot, with not much more than an aching neck, back and butt to show for it. It was frustrating, and I felt like I was losing valuable time and energy that could be spent on other more beneficial projects. Due to the sunk cost fallacy, I then had to force myself to keep retouching the scene and taking pics in hopes of somehow landing the shots that I would be satisfied with.


Even after all that effort, I still wasn't satisfied with many of the shots I did get, no matter how I designed the scene. As an amateurish perfectionist, this was a major blow to my already fragile sense of confidence. What puppy would love me now...if I couldn't love myself?


Joking aside. Even if it was only the afternoon down the drain, I had felt like I had wasted so much time, energy, and resources on something that wasn't working out. I not only wasn't thrilled with the results, but I had a bit of a miserable time doing it. Which is the complete opposite experience I normally aim for in my hobbies. Whether it's in photography, or anything else in life that that you devote yourself to, it always bites the big one when things don't meet expectations. The negative feelings I had from the poor photoshoot lingered over me after the shoot was over. Briefly, it did affect my confidence in regards to whether photography was at all my "thing", and gave me second thoughts about other projects that I had in the pipeline.


That being said, I know that setbacks like these are a normal part of the creative process. It's important to acknowledge the disappointment and take what you can learn from it, but not let it discourage you from continuing to pursue your passions. There's little in life that's worth while if you don't have to work for it. Suffering builds character is what I tell myself. I'm chocked full of characterization, I'll tell you what. Life has taught me many lessons.


Despite the dissillusionment and frustration from this shoot (and others of its ilk), I'm still excited about the possibilities of future photoshoots. Call me a masochist I suppose. There's always something new to discover and explore through the lens of a camera, even if the end results look like they should be picked off the ground in an opaque doggie bag. With a little bit of luck and a lot of hard work, I'm confident that I can create content that's not only impresses my theorhetical imaginary clients, but might, maybe, be capable of matching even my own expectations. Worst case


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