April 30, 2009.............................................................................HOME........................................................."Confidence With Your Camera"
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I just returned from leading a Mentor Series Trek in Chicago. Each time I go to teach I wonder what the participants are thinking. Having taken workshops myself, I know that while the experience is rewarding, it is also at least initially daunting. You can’t help but wonder how your images will compare to others, or at a more basic level how you will turn on enthusiasm necessary to make photographs on demand.
When I first began working with Nikon, these same concerns roamed my creative space. As an amateur making photographs only for personal enjoyment, there is no agenda or timetable. Yet over time you realize that greater satisfaction comes from pushing yourself, much like an athlete training to excel. The creative process is more nebulous than sports because the end result is undefined, but there are many similarities. The same doubts and fears plague participants in both endeavors.
Each time I’d accept an assignment, the first thing I’d do is formally carve out time to spend on the project. The mere act of scheduling time to be creative (note I said “be creative” not “try and be creative”) legitimized the process. Doing so is a way of saying that you accept the challenge. I’ve found that my creative juices flow most readily in a visually unfamiliar setting, so I often travel to shoot, but that really isn’t mandatory. You can be just as formal about setting aside time in your own backyard, it just requires more discipline to evade everyday life as it erodes the edges of your creativity. During the first few assignments, even as I sat on a plane already having established creative momentum, I’d still wrestle with anxiety. I’m sure some workshop participants felt the same way as they approached Chicago. But over time I’ve come to understand that each time I put the ingredients of time, passion, and commitment together, something good always happens. Admittedly I never know the outcome in advance, hence the unavoidable anxiety, but I understand that images will come and some will be satisfying. In that context I can live with the anxiety. That is my definition of confidence... living with the anxiety understanding that with the right preparation the performance will be somehow memorable.
That being said, what is the right preparation? The concrete answers are simple. For the athlete it’s eating correctly, doing some ancillary weight training to get the required muscles in shape, and practicing the required movements over and over to hone the desired muscle memory. For the photographer there is a similar “to do” list. Charging batteries, formatting memory cards, and cleaning lenses are like consuming necessary calories. Keeping familiar with camera controls and image processing software is like the weight training, building a foundation for image capture and development. Finally there is the act of shooting. Like the athlete, there is shooting to train, shooting to warm up, and performance shooting when the real subject finally presents itself.
Coming to a photo workshop is similar to attending a preliminary competition. It’s a place where you come to test your skills, gauge the caliber of others at your level, and also learn from those with skills beyond your own. Some will come unprepared and find the process more difficult. Most will have done at least some preparation and be ready to face the challenge and grow. They’ve done shooting as training back home. What they need to remember is that between training and performance, there is warm up.
As I arrived in Chicago, the afternoon before the trek, I had a few hours free to wander Michigan Avenue, amidst skyscrapers. I’m no stranger to urban skylines, but the majesty of towers reaching for the sky is never wasted on me. I confess to being easily awed and a hazard to fellow pedestrians as I walk down streets, paying more attention to what’s high above me than where I’m stepping next. That afternoon I was prepared for a simple warm up. I brought along a point and shoot camera, understanding I wasn’t in search of fine art, but merely exercise for my visual “muscle memory” as I hiked urban canyons.
First came the excitement of distant architectural perspective as I ventured out of the hotel.
.
When I first began working with Nikon, these same concerns roamed my creative space. As an amateur making photographs only for personal enjoyment, there is no agenda or timetable. Yet over time you realize that greater satisfaction comes from pushing yourself, much like an athlete training to excel. The creative process is more nebulous than sports because the end result is undefined, but there are many similarities. The same doubts and fears plague participants in both endeavors.
Each time I’d accept an assignment, the first thing I’d do is formally carve out time to spend on the project. The mere act of scheduling time to be creative (note I said “be creative” not “try and be creative”) legitimized the process. Doing so is a way of saying that you accept the challenge. I’ve found that my creative juices flow most readily in a visually unfamiliar setting, so I often travel to shoot, but that really isn’t mandatory. You can be just as formal about setting aside time in your own backyard, it just requires more discipline to evade everyday life as it erodes the edges of your creativity. During the first few assignments, even as I sat on a plane already having established creative momentum, I’d still wrestle with anxiety. I’m sure some workshop participants felt the same way as they approached Chicago. But over time I’ve come to understand that each time I put the ingredients of time, passion, and commitment together, something good always happens. Admittedly I never know the outcome in advance, hence the unavoidable anxiety, but I understand that images will come and some will be satisfying. In that context I can live with the anxiety. That is my definition of confidence... living with the anxiety understanding that with the right preparation the performance will be somehow memorable.
That being said, what is the right preparation? The concrete answers are simple. For the athlete it’s eating correctly, doing some ancillary weight training to get the required muscles in shape, and practicing the required movements over and over to hone the desired muscle memory. For the photographer there is a similar “to do” list. Charging batteries, formatting memory cards, and cleaning lenses are like consuming necessary calories. Keeping familiar with camera controls and image processing software is like the weight training, building a foundation for image capture and development. Finally there is the act of shooting. Like the athlete, there is shooting to train, shooting to warm up, and performance shooting when the real subject finally presents itself.
Coming to a photo workshop is similar to attending a preliminary competition. It’s a place where you come to test your skills, gauge the caliber of others at your level, and also learn from those with skills beyond your own. Some will come unprepared and find the process more difficult. Most will have done at least some preparation and be ready to face the challenge and grow. They’ve done shooting as training back home. What they need to remember is that between training and performance, there is warm up.
As I arrived in Chicago, the afternoon before the trek, I had a few hours free to wander Michigan Avenue, amidst skyscrapers. I’m no stranger to urban skylines, but the majesty of towers reaching for the sky is never wasted on me. I confess to being easily awed and a hazard to fellow pedestrians as I walk down streets, paying more attention to what’s high above me than where I’m stepping next. That afternoon I was prepared for a simple warm up. I brought along a point and shoot camera, understanding I wasn’t in search of fine art, but merely exercise for my visual “muscle memory” as I hiked urban canyons.
First came the excitement of distant architectural perspective as I ventured out of the hotel.
.
As I came closer to the buildings, perspective continued to change and with it my perceptions.
.
Finally as I approached the Chicago Tribune building, a flag fluttering at infinite height caught my eye. Whipping against currents of wind unfelt at street level, it seemed somehow reverent, alone in a huge sky among wisps of beautiful white clouds. A two frame pan allowed the neighboring buildings to remain in context.
.
Each perspective during this short walk was a chance to redefine my excitement and catch another frame. While in the moment I didn’t think of this as my shooting warmup, it was in fact just that.
The next day, as I was preparing for an evening presentation, I glanced out my window and saw the splendor of twilight over the Chicago River. Street and building lights became tiny beacons as the sky darkened and filled with magical blue. My palms got sweaty and I knew I needed my DSLR and a wide angle lens. My presentation was to be in the hotel penthouse ballroom, where the view was just what I wanted to capture the night. For agonizing seconds I waited for the elevator, taking a relaxing breath when it arrived quickly and whisked me to the top. For a moment I was a photographic athlete, warmed up and ready for a shooting performance. I knew in my mind what I wanted and within a few minutes crafted the image before the moment passed and the light was gone.
.
There are several points here to consider: anxiety, preparation, training, warm up, performance. But as you begin to understand how they all play a role in your relationship with the camera and your images, eventually they come together as the desired conclusion.
Confidence.
Confidence.
Mark Alberhasky is a Nikon Mentor for the Mentor Series Worldwide Photo Treks.
Join him as he travels and share his enthusiasm for photography and learning.
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