Positively Phototropic

 

 

Technical Information

 

Photographic Nuts and Bolts

and Stalking the Wild Dewdrop

 

Glenn McCrea with Southern Rock Agama

 

PHOTOGRAPHIC NUTS AND BOLTS

This section is for those who are interested in the technical details of photography--just how I took these shots. I must state here that equipment, while important, certainly takes a back seat to vision and persistence in getting a shot you can be happy with. That said, there is nothing like having the right tool for the situation.

One must have a camera to do photography, so I'll start there. While Nikon has a reputation for quality 35mm single-lens reflex cameras, Canon has in recent years given Nikon a real run for their money. I think it's safe to say that the best cameras and lenses offered by both companies are roughly equivalent. I opted for Canon because of the quiet shutters, a feature I thought could be useful when photographing wildlife. I use a Canon A2 camera, which is an electronic camera with so many functions that I haven't even learned them all yet. One of the most useful for my work, though, is mirror lock-up. This function allows the photographer to create a delay of 2 seconds between the pressing of the shutter release (and the flopping up of the mirror inside the camera to allow the light to pass through to the film) and the opening of the shutter so that any camera shake created by the movement of the mirror is dampened. For crystal-sharp images when using long exposures of several seconds, this feature is a must.

My tripod is perhaps my most important piece of equipment aside from the camera for macro photography. While there are many high-quality tripods out there for general photography, for close-up work there are only two that fill the bill as far as I'm concerned: Benbo and Uni-Loc. Both are similar in their construction, with Benbo being the trailblazer and Uni-Loc being the Rolls Royce for ground level photography. These tripods are unique in that the legs can flop around independently, giving the photographer incredible latitude for positioning the camera with stability.

UniLoc Tripod at Salt Point

Photographing Tafoni at Salt Point

The most economical way to explore the world of macro photography is to use a lens that has a "macro" function or switch. While this enables the photographer to decrease the distance between the subject and the lens, the limitations of this choice soon become apparent for the serious photographer. A better option is to take a good lens and add either (or both) a close-up lens or extension tubes.

There are some really high-quality close-up lenses that can be screwed onto the outside of an existing lens. These are most useful for zoom lenses.

Extension tubes are ingenious hollow rings of varying thickness that can be placed between the camera body and the lens. The wider the ring the more the magnification.

A third option is a lens called a "converter." These are fairly expensive lenses that, like extension tubes, are placed between the camera body and lens. The most common magnifications are 1.4x or 2x. I use a 1.4x converter with my 180mm lens for really close-up work, giving me an effective size of 240mm.

Both close-up lenses and extension tubes do decrease the amount of light reaching the lens, so longer exposures are necessary to compensate for the reduction in light.

The best option as far as quality is concerned is a true macro lens. Macro lenses were originally designed for copying documents, so the lens is capable of producing an image that is sharp from edge to edge. They are usually quite a bit more expensive than a comparable lens of similar size. But for the serious photographer they are the way to go. The 180mm lens mentioned above is a macro lens, and it is the main lens I use for my close-up photography. I recently acquired a great 16-35mm wide-angle lens to go along with a short zoom (24mm-70mm) I have had for some time.

Two more pieces of equpipment are indispensible for long exposures close to the ground. The angle B finder (for Canon; I'm not sure what it is for Nikon) is a right angle periscope-like device that attaches to the viewfinder and enables the photographer to look straight down on a camera sitting right on the ground. In the old days I had to try to lie flat on my stomach and turn my head sideways to look through the lens, and even then I couldn't get low enough to see most of the time. Finally, the shutter release cable enables the photographer to activate the shutter electronically without actually pushing on the shutter button, useful once again for minimizing camera shake.

Almost all the photos on this site are taken with natural light. I sometimes use a collapsible reflector to reflect the light onto a subject, but very little flash was employed. As I have been using a digital Canon 5D body only for the past several months, by far the majority (over 95%) of the photos were taken with slide film. I will admit that I am really enjoying the flexibility of the digital camera, and some of the most recently added photos (like the Brown Pelicans) were digital shots. As mentioned above, though, more important than any of the equipment is persistence.

 

STALKING THE WILD DEWDROP

Dew. It’s always been associated with the magical, the fresh, the ephemeral. Like patterns on seashore sand, the flashes of light from countless tiny lenses create patterns as breathtaking as they are transitory.

While most of us have at one time or another been captivated by the beauty of a dewy morning, how many of us have taken the next step and delved into the heart of a single dewdrop? This requires special equipment (a magnifying glass or lens) or special abilities (myopic individuals have a definite advantage here).

I bought a good macro lens several years ago, and since that time I have had a love affair with dew. The first reaction that many people have when first viewing one of my photographs of a dewdrop on a blade of grass is amazement that the scene within the drop is so distinguishable. Close on the heels of that observation, though, is surprise that the scene is upside-down. The fact that they are seeing a refraction of the scene and not a reflection helps explain the situation.

A reflection would show the scene behind the photographer as well as the image of the photographer him- or herself. A refraction, on the other hand, is an image of the scene on the far side of the drop from the photographer and is inverted because of the spherical nature of the drop and the way in which its curved surfaces bend the rays of light. (A clear glass ball also refracts an upside-down image of that which is on its far side from the observer.)

The greatest challenge for the dewdrop photographer is wind. This is because magnification at these levels requires a sturdy tripod and slow shutter speeds to maximize depth of field. In order to get the clarity and magnification that I want, I have to accept the fact that when I magnify tiny objects with my lens, any movement is magnified as well—movement of the camera or movement of the subject. Much of the technique I have developed revolves around ways to shelter my selected dewdrop from the any possible wind as well as trying to keep my tripod rock solid even when it has to assume awkward positions.

When I first started photographing dewdrops, I was so enamored with the fact that I could actually record such tiny images that I paid little attention to the actual composition within the drop, being satisfied with revealing the beauty within just about any dewdrop. As my experience grew, I refined my techniques and became more interested in capturing images within the drops that were artistic in and of themselves.

Eventually I developed a whole sensitivity for scouting out the perfect dewdrop—one that was perfectly perpendicular from the object I wanted to showcase in the drop (often a tree). It also had to be large enough so that the tree filled much of the drop, which involved carefully scanning those drops a specific distance from the tree. Any farther away and the tree would appear too small; any closer and it would appear too large. I also learned that it was important to arrive at my dewfield as soon after dawn as possible, as the wind tends to arrive within an hour or so of dawn (and sometimes right at dawn).

Here’s a typical scenario that leads to a successful dewdrop photograph. When I arise in the morning, I go outside and appraise the weather conditions. A sunny or cloudy morning after a day or more of rain the previous night and day is ideal. When I see lots of moisture on the grass and my car, I load up my equipment and head out to one of two areas I use for dewdrop photography. I use waterproof rain pants and large rubber boots and carry a small tarp with me because I know it’s going to be very wet.

One of my favorite areas is just off a bike path just west of town. I walk out into a field and approach one of my favorite trees. As I get just the right distance from the tree (about 40 yards or so), I crouch down and start scanning the drops on the grass, looking for a large drop on a blade of grass that is hanging perpendicular to a line between me and the tree. I place my small tarp just behind the drop and set up my equipment. This involves putting a 1.4 x converter plus and extension tube or two on my 180 mm macro lens, which I attach to my camera body.

I then place what is called an angle finder onto the eyepiece of my camera so I can look down into a periscope-like eyepiece instead of lying on my belly to look through the eyepiece. I attach the camera to my special Uni-Loc tripod, which enables me to get the camera all the way down to ground level. If I am off the ground at all, I usually try to wedge something (my pack or a beanbag or both) between the tarp and the base of the camera to give the camera additional support. This is because the camera is effectively out on a long boom from the tripod and is very sensitive to any vibration as a result. I then attach my cable release so I can press the shutter button on the camera a couple of feet away from the camera itself to minimize camera shake.

Finally, I set my camera for mirror lock-up, which gives me two seconds from the time I push the shutter (at which point the mirror inside the camera flips up) to the time the image is exposed. This minimizes the slight camera shake that occurs when the mirror flips up.

The next job is to find the dewdrop in the viewfinder. This can be quite tricky, because the magnification is so great that only a tiny area is even in the viewfinder. Then I have to move the tripod back and forth until I have flexibility of focus and so the scene is composed the way I want it to be. After I have the position I want, I slowly focus the lens farther and farther away from me so any extraneous blades of grass in my line of sight show up. If there is one (or more) quite close to my chosen drop, I have to walk around and clip that blade with a tiny pair of scissors I carry for just such a purpose. If I didn’t do this, the final photo would have some distracting blades of grass or bright spots from other dewdrops in the background.

Finally, if I discern any breeze at all, I pull out a large circular reflector I have and use it to block the wind (making sure, of course, that none of the reflector shows within the image inside the dewdrop). I then usually take several shots at varying exposures and different shutter speeds and depths of field to make sure I get just what I want.

Many times I have gone through all the steps above only to have a slight breeze knock the drop off. Worse, several times I have knocked off the drop myself by accidentally touching a blade of grass off to the side that is somehow connected to the blade I am studying. Then it’s back to square one.

Usually what happens is that the wind just gets too strong or the sun starts evaporating the dew. At this point I just pack up my gear and await my next opportunity.

Photographing dewdrops can be a great discipline for learning patience and nonattachment. If you are easily frustrated, this is not the artform for you. Or perhaps it is just what you need to learn to get beyond that frustration. Take solace in the fact that depth of experience is directly related to the lessons learned from those frustrations.

I suppose it’s a bit like fishing. As many great shots as I have to share with friends, you can’t imagine the number that “got away.” At some point, I just have to let those go and tell myself that some day conditions like those will come again, that opportunity will present itself once more—and this time I’ll be ready.

 

 

 

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