The apocryphally informed among us will say that the motto was coined by the mid-20th century New York City-based crime and tabloid photographer Arthur Fellig, more popularly known as Weegee, whose photography was scalding hot in black-and-white, flash-exposed on the rain-slick streets, and often dripping with blood.

In the earliest days of his career, Weegee would loiter around the Manhatten Police headquarters. Whenever a notice came over the police teletype (an early fast communication device that could send written messages over phone lines) Weegee would race the police to the scene of the catastrophe, and often find himself first on the scene. This offered him an opportunity to photograph the scene of the crime or disaster without interruption or interference. He would quickly develop the film and take the grizzly, uncensored pictures to the newspaper, which paid handsomely for blood and guts.

Weegee quickly made a living (and a name for himself) out of his violent and shocking photography.

The connection between Weegee and the mantra F/8 and be there goes like this.

One day, when Weegee had achieved a certain level of fame, he was asked by an interviewer how he had managed to become the most famous crime scene photographer in history. Weegee supposedly replied with the now famous and famously succinct witticism, “F/8 and be there.”

I can’t find this interview anywhere, nor a written first-hand account. Nor, it seems, can anyone else.

Did Weegee ever speak the words? I don’t know.

But there’s reason to believe he did not.

To start, Weegee is known to have made nearly all of his published photographs with a 4×5 Speed Graphic camera preset to f/16 and 1/200th of a second, with a flash bulb, and standing from a set distance of ten feet. If a photographer spent decades shooting at essentially the same settings, it makes little sense that the photographer would offer anything but these specific settings in his clever retort to a somewhat dim question.

So, forget Weegee. I’ve found published documents in which multiple people claim that National Geographic is the source of the phrase “F/8 and be there.” 

In an article in the July 1985 issue of Whole Earth Review titled Digital Retouching: The End of Photography as Evidence of Anything, writer Stewart Brand wrestles with the question of photographic ownership in an approaching era in which photographs could be created by a computer. Interestingly for our purposes, he mentions the “F/8” mantra and its connection with National Geographic.

“The advice to photographers from the [National] Geographic is: ‘F/8 and be there.’ If content in photos can be electronically and subliminally added and re-moved, why bother to be there?” – Stewart Brand; July 1985; Whole Earth Review; Digital Retouching: The End of Photography as Evidence of Anything

The NG connection to the phrase was mentioned again in a 1993 issue of Popular Photography. In this issue the photographer Kal Muller describes how he made a particular photo. He casually mentions, “The advice, ‘F/8 and be there’ from National Geographic years ago, has long been my motto.”

Frustratingly, I’ve not been able to find a single issue of National Geographic in which the motto appears. So, forget National Geographic. And let’s forget about hunting down the origin of the phrase, and move on to something more interesting.

F/8 and Be There, Elsewhere

In a 1983 issue of Direction: The Navy Public Affairs Quarterly, Master Gunnery Sergeant Ed Evans writes about covering the Marines in Lebanon in 1982. In this article, Evans contrarily writes that F/8 and be there was, for him, useless.

“[…] Marines landed. Cameras whirred and clicked. […] It was a battlefield circus. Masses of PLO [Palestinian Liberation Organization] supporters were firing weapons and armament of every sort, artillery airbursts promised to make Vietnam-era knees buckle instinctively, automatic weapons chattered, loudspeakers blared, the crowd surged and the situation seemed always on the brink of raging out of control. […] There was no time for the “F/8 and be there” philosophy, no time to be shooting 20 shots in the hopes one would be good[…]”

As for the mantra’s popularity over time, Google Ngram Viewer attributes the first mention of the phrase to have occurred around 1968. Incidentally that’s the year that Weegee died. The phrase appeared more and more frequently throughout the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s. It peaked in popularity around the year 2004, dipped considerably throughout the aughts, and climbed back to popularity throughout the latter half of the 2010s. According to Google Ngram Viewer, F/8 and be there is as popular today as it ever was.

How To F/8 and Be There, and Why?

With the lens aperture set to F/8, sufficient light enters the camera to create a proper exposure in most situations. If we set the lens to the lens’ hyper-focal distance (using zone focusing), F/8 also provides sufficient depth of field that everything up close and far away alike will be rendered sharply focused in the photo. That’s the “F/8” part of the phrase.

With the lens aperture set to F/8, the lens focus set to hyper-focal distance, and the shutter set to a general purpose speed, it’s possible for the photographer to completely ignore the camera. With the controls set in place, he or she can instead focus their attention entirely on what’s happening around them. That’s the “be there” part.

The result, supposedly, is that photographers attempting to capture a story, for a newspaper, let’s say, will have the best luck doing so by following the mantra. F/8 and be there and they’ll get the shot.

In the heyday of film photography, and to the many hobbyist photographers who idolized the reportage of the famous photojournalists who often said the phrase (apocryphally or not, who knows?), F/8 and be there came to stand for a certain photographic philosophy. It asserted that taking good photos was less about technical ability or innate talent and more about being in the thick of it, amongst the action with your eyes open and your senses tuned. To F/8 and be there was to be knee deep in the mud and up to your elbows in the drama. All you needed was guts and an eyeball.

F/8 and be there. That’s all it takes. Press the button and watch for falling Pulitzers.

What F/8 and Be There Means To Me

There are plenty of photographers who live by the mantra today. I’ve seen it written on countless blogs and heard plenty of YouTubers mention it. I’ve seen t-shirts branded with it (I’ve even considered making one myself). For many, I’m sure the motto still conjures images of the ideal photojournalist (whatever that means).

For me, F/8 and be there means something else.

I’ve long ago given up the idea that my photography will mean anything to anyone outside of my family. My photography isn’t anything special. I’m not a fashion photographer or a celebrity portrait artist. I don’t have a high concept in mind when I reach for my Nikon SP. I’m too old to be cool and too young to be interesting. As I have said on my YouTube channel and in other articles, I shoot photos so that someone I love might someday look at them and think I was pretty good.

But I can still wring some use out of the mantra F/8 and be there.

I focus on the last part. Being there. On vacation. At home with my girls. When I was in the hospital after my daughters’ births. At Disney World. I always have the camera. But I don’t really care about it. I don’t worry about it, or focus on it. Or pack it away delicately between shots, or bother with a lens cap, or bring too much gear, or obsess over getting the perfect photo.

I just shoot the thing and spend my time being there. There with my wife and kids. There with my thoughts. There for them. Just being there. For me, being there is the best part of photography.

[Below: times I was there, not necessarily at F/8.]

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The post F/8 And Be There – the Unclear Origin of a Photographic Mantra and What It Really Means appeared first on Casual Photophile.

Sometimes I feel like I have to throw every trick in the book at a familiar subject to come up with something new. Between parental responsibilities and COVID lockdowns keeping me at home or at close relatives’ houses, I’ve spent a lot of my time in the last year and a half returning to the same places, trying to find a new perspective through new cameras or film stocks, if I can’t muster any other kind of creative approach. Sure, I may have photographed the same stack of rocks a dozen times before, but have I photographed it with a 87-year-old camera on redscale film that I developed at home using a process I’d never tried before? I haven’t, and for that matter, it’s such a bizarre combination that I’m sure nobody else has either.

Each step of this experiment has a story behind it. The camera is the Rolleiflex Old Standard I reviewed recently; I didn’t include these images in the article because I hadn’t processed them yet, even though they predated other rolls I had put through the camera.  

Then there’s the film. When I was visiting my family in Seattle over the holidays, I stopped by the Shot on Film Store, where the camera selection is always so dazzling that I’m paralyzed with indecision. I conclude that I already own enough cameras (what?), and I shop for film instead. They had a three-pack of Lomography Redscale in 120, which I bought because it was reasonably priced and I’d been itching to try it.

Redscale film is basically just color negative film that’s been wound so that light hits the film by passing through the non-emulsion side first, resulting in a range of intense red and orange tones in the image. You could do this yourself by winding your own film backwards in a dark bag [something similar was explored in this YouTube video that we produced], or you could buy Lomography XR 50-200. The XR stands for extended range, meaning that you can shoot at different ISOs for different effects. Metering at a lower ISO results in a more subtle red tone, and at a higher ISO a more intense one.

A few months later we visited my husband’s family in Ithaca, New York. While we’re there we usually take a few walks around Sapsucker Woods, Cornell’s wild bird refuge. It was late winter, the trees were bare, and there was some crusty snow on the ground. I thought the intense warmth of redscale film would make an interesting combination with the cold, stark landscape. I shot through most of the roll at Sapsucker Woods, and finished it a few months later while camping with friends at Saranac Lake in the Adirondacks.

And then I put it in a drawer, which is what I do with film that I don’t necessarily want to pay $15 to process, because the last step of the process, and the biggest one for me, was the developing.

I imagine every film photographer has those orphan rolls of film we don’t quite know what to do with. There’s a little drawer in my desk where I stash the fat rolls that are probably covered in light leaks, the rolls I let sit in the camera for so long that I don’t know if the latent images are still there, the rolls I loaded into the camera all wrong and clumsily extracted in what might or might not have been a dark space so I could shoot them in another camera. It’s a drawer of sunk costs in film and time, awaiting my decision about how much more I want to sink.

Meanwhile, in another cabinet of things I’m not quite sure what to do with, I had stored the ECN-2 kit I bought last summer. ECN-2 is the process used to develop motion picture film. It can also be used to process C-41 and slide films in a process called “cross processing,” producing warm, saturated colors.  

I got my kit from Eric, aka conspiracy.of.cartographers on Instagram and co-host of the All Through a Lens podcast (highly recommended), who processes his own color film in homebrew ECN-2 with fantastic results and packages small-batch kits so other photographers can do so as well. The kits include powder developer, bleach, and optional fixer (you can use your usual black and white fixer) along with instructions and a list of ingredients. These ECN-2 chemicals were the destination I had in mind for the rolls that were in film drawer purgatory, but I was petrified of actually using them. I had never processed color film at home before, for two reasons: 1. keeping chemicals at a precise and somewhat odd temperature (not room temperature but not hot) was intimidating, and 2. I was afraid the chemicals would explode or make me pass out. (My idea of how chemistry works was mainly shaped by Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and Beaker.)

Finally, I decided just to mix everything up and get started. Although I’m sure it would make things easier, I didn’t need a sous vide to get everything to the right temperature.  I heated water in a pot I use for oddball non-cooking projects and warmed my bottles in it until a thermometer in the developer bottle said 106 degrees Fahrenheit, at which point I immediately poured the developer into the tank. I took the rest of the chemicals out of the water, since maintaining exact temperature for bleach and fixer isn’t as critical. Developer and bleach are each three minutes, so with washes in between, it’s about the same amount of time as it takes for me to develop a roll of black and white film.  I had started with the redscale roll because I had practically forgotten what was on it, so if I lost the pictures I wouldn’t remember what I was missing, and if the colors got weird, well, it’s redscale. They’re supposed to be weird.

And indeed they’re weird! In that good way.

I shot most of these at ISO 100, and they’re certainly red. There are a couple of images with background highlights that show some aqua tones, and a longer exposure of a forest that I deliberately overexposed (because who knows what reciprocity is with this film) shows more color in the trees. But as someone who habitually overexposes, I was surprised by how red all these images were. Combined with the antique Tessar lens on the Rolleiflex and the snowy landscape, the film and process rendered surreal images, simultaneously fiery and frozen, the way the surface of Mars looks like it would be hot but is actually much colder than Earth.

After that first roll, I developed a roll of Ektar I used in my box Brownie last summer with the intent of processing it in ECN-2, and a fat roll of Lomography 800 I didn’t want to pay to develop because I was afraid it would be peppered with light leaks. The chemicals can develop a dozen rolls and have a shelf life of about a month once mixed, so for the sake of economy it’s best to mix them up and use them when you have a few rolls in the queue. The results have been interesting. There is the occasional bizarre color shift – green leaves in a field of buttercups turning periwinkle blue, for example – but for the most part colors are truer than I expected. (I’m also very new to scanning color, so that might account for some wonkiness.) I wouldn’t necessarily use this process for portraits, but for the most part, if I’m not taking heirloom photos of my kids, I can let go of accuracy and let the combination of film, chemicals, and old lenses do serendipitous and fascinating things. My mild success also gives me the courage to try regular C-41 developing next. It was strange to begin with ECN-2, but it was easier for me to start out color developing with a process where I was already anticipating and even hoping for unpredictable results.

I have to admit this is something of a departure for me. I have tried out a lot of things in film photography – toy cameras, pinhole, double exposures, odd and expired films – but generally I lean on the familiarity of shooting regular old Portra 400 and Tri-X in my favorite cameras. I like knowing mostly what to expect, with the small pleasure of delayed gratification and the perennial surprise of finding out what something looks like photographed. But sometimes it’s fun to try something new – or several new things at once – and one of my favorite things about photography is the nearly infinite number of things out there to try. If you have an oddball roll of film in the refrigerator, a camera that hasn’t seen the light of day in a while, or something else you’ve been meaning to give a whirl, maybe now is the time to do it.

Want to try this yourself?

Buy redscale film here!

Check out more on alternative photography processes here!

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

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I began thinking about the pressure to be good at hobbies a couple of years ago when I read an article (unfortunately now pay-walled), headlined “Revel in the Joy of Doing Things You Will Never Master.” The author encouraged readers to pursue their hobbies not to excel at them, but simply for the pleasure of doing them.

I have several hobbies I’m not good at – I’m a slow runner, and I doubt I’ll ever paint a watercolor anyone would pay to hang on their wall, but I run and paint anyway because they’re hobbies I enjoy. So I didn’t immediately associate this premise with photography, because it’s the one hobby in which I’ve developed some actual skill. But the reason I’ve become a decent photographer is from photographing long enough and sustaining enough interest in photography that I eventually stumbled out of mediocrity.

Malcolm Gladwell has popularized research showing that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to master a skill. That is an awful lot of time, and many of us don’t have enough time or inclination to master even one nonprofessional skill, let alone to enjoy whatever comes after having mastered it. And in the first few hours of attempting anything new and doing it imperfectly, we will at some point inevitably ask ourselves why we do it at all.

There are many answers to that “why?” A lot of them boil down to enjoying the process. If you shoot film, it’s probably not because it’s easier to make good images on film. There’s the finite length of film rolls and the lack of instant feedback, plus every mistake you can make with manual exposure and focusing, plus the light leaks and sticky shutters you might not discover until the film is developed. But we shoot film for the tactile, visceral enjoyment of handling a well-built machine, for the way film and classic lenses render tones and light, for the delayed gratification of the results and the corollary that it frees you to live in the moment you’re photographing, for the rabbit holes we can go down when we discover a new piece of gear or technique – or insert your own reason here. Photography is a gateway to an infinite variety of experiences.

One of the reasons we photograph is the joy of creation. The process results in a product we often want to share, and the easiest way to share images in 2021 is online. And we all know that social media can intensify our desire for positive feedback on the results of our endeavors, to the point that we view those shareable results and the feedback on them as the purpose in the first place. We become wrapped up in the transactional aspect of sharing our photos, with “content producers” (or, dear God, influencers) trying to satisfy content consumers.

But publishing content, which most of us do for free and which is an optional step in the artistic process, doesn’t mean we owe it to anyone to produce content they’ll like. If you’re shooting for a client, you owe them images that meet their expectations, but if you’re simply sharing your images online, what debt do you owe your viewers? For the split-second it took them to see and judge your image? Is it an affront to anyone else if you break technical or artistic rules of photography, or shoot a camera or film stock in a way that doesn’t follow the usual advice from a thousand different sources? How often do we caption our photos with apologies for their flaws, as if we need to forestall anticipated criticisms?

It’s fine to put out flawed photos. We’ve all done it. And sometimes these flawed photos are our favorites, as James wrote in a piece on embracing imperfection.

When I shot my first roll ever through a TLR, I struggled to get horizontal and vertical lines straight in the dim, 65-year-old viewfinder. Five years later, it’s still a struggle, I’m just more persistent.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with trying to improve or excel at a hobby, and one of the joys of photography, as with any hobby, is seeing improvement through practice. There can be satisfaction in many aspects of the photographic process, and that includes learning and improvement, undertaking long term projects, setting goals and meeting them. But nobody needs to practice or learn on any schedule but their own. Growth often happens in fits and starts. You can put down your camera for a month or a decade and pick it up again. Hobbies don’t judge you for being bad at them or even quitting them, temporarily or permanently; it’s other hobbyists who do that.

We’ve all run into those photographers who are affronted by other photographers’ failings, and to some extent I understand where they’re coming from. Once you think you know how to do something right, it’s very tempting to tell others they’re Doing It Wrong. If you find yourself gatekeeping, I offer a couple of reasons to resist.

First, any use of film sustains demand; professionals and serious amateurs aren’t going to keep film manufacturers and processing labs in business on their own. Every roll of film sold and shot helps us all in the long term.

Second, unless people ask for advice, they’re probably going to be hurt by unsolicited criticism. An ill-timed or snarky comment might discourage someone from enjoying their hobby, and it won’t do any good besides making you feel better about yourself. Consider whether you’re offering help someone will appreciate, or just showcasing your expertise.

Finally, gatekeeping limits your own openness to new ways of seeing and photographing that might strike you from unexpected places. I have as much GAS as anyone, but I love reading reviews or scrolling through hashtags for cameras I already own, because other photographers inspire me to shoot them in new ways. Of all the infinite moments in infinite places that can be photographed, we each choose to capture a certain few, and it’s magical to see how other people do it. Even those of us who are monkeys at typewriters occasionally tap out a line of Shakespeare; someone whose photos you find amateurish might still create something that interests or inspires you.

The reason I’m so glad to write for Casual Photophile is the ethos of this website: anyone is welcome to be a photographer, and the only rule is that you should enjoy it. If you share your images, someone out there may benefit from seeing them in a way you would never have anticipated, and you along with the rest of us will benefit from your engagement in the film community – not Instagram-quantifiable engagement, but interactions between real humans. If you want to be good at photography, that’s fantastic, and there are plenty of resources for that. But remember that it’s a hobby, and the only way you’re doing it wrong is if you’re not having fun.

For more thoughts on the process and philosophy behind photography, check out these articles.

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

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I went out to take photos for the first time in months just last weekend – and it was amazing. I knew that I’d missed photography, but I didn’t realize just how much I’d missed it. Mentally, emotionally, and creatively buoyed by the simple act of seeing a friend and making photos in a place that I’d never been, I sought a way to encourage similar exploration and re-engagement for others like me who have struggled over the last year. And this is what I came up with – a photographic scavenger hunt.

The premise is simple. Download the Casual Photophile 34 Shot Film Photography Scavenger Hunt onto your phone (or print it out if you love paper), grab your favorite camera (digital, film, or phone) and hit the road. Try to shoot every photo on the list. You can do it in order, bounce around, do it all in one day or take a month to capture as many as you can. Use your phone’s image edit app to check them off as you go. The ultimate challenge, of course, is to find every shot and take them in order on a single 36 exposure roll of film. Now that’s something I’d love to see… which brings me to my next suggestion.

Share your scavenger hunt photos with us and each other. The easiest way to do this is to tag your scavenger hunt photos on Instagram with our hashtag #CPSCAVENGERHUNT and we (and everyone else in the hunt) will be able to see, comment, and compare with our own hunt photos. Every shooter’s results will be different, and we’d love to see them.

And that’s it. We want you to get out in the world again, bring your camera, and re-engage with this lovely hobby of ours. Make sure you do so safely. Respect the people around you, wear a mask if need be, and take care of yourself, of course. But damn, winter is over and I’m vaccinated – I’m ready to get back to photography. Join our scav hunt and come with me.

Need a camera to get out and shoot? Find one in our shop, F Stop Cameras

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

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My guess is that this “jumping from hobby to hobby, interest to interest” feeling is shared by many people. Last summer, with the pandemic in full swing, I had to find a hobby that not only gave me a thrill, but also followed social distancing guidelines. Since I’ve already been practicing photography for a few years, I had some digital and film equipment to incorporate into what became that summer’s new obsession.

It started with a text from a friend: “Parks are open again. Want to go for a hike? Masks on. Six feet apart?”

I haven’t done much hiking before, so I was skeptical on what fun it could bring. But I had also been stuck inside for two months, so I said yes. It was a short hike at a local state park so we didn’t need a tent, sleeping bags, or even granola bars to keep us on our toes. However, I did feel the need to pack four separate cameras. It was so good to see this friend, that I ended up only bringing the 35mm point and shoot that was already stored in my pocket. It was a shame I couldn’t give him a hug; so, I took his picture instead.

I documented the short trip with a Pentax IQ Zoom 80S. We walked on mostly flat ground through the woods of Core Creek State Park. Without mountains to climb or canyons to repel into, an exploration of the forests was in order. We went off-trail and I saw some attractions I never would have by staying on the path. I wouldn’t exactly call it hiking, especially since we stayed on flat ground, but it opened my eyes to a new form of recreation. After that short trip, I researched for more places to hike. I wanted to see more nature and try to quench the fascination it was creating. 

Soon my search bar was filled with phrases like “fascinating places to hike in eastern Pennsylvania.” I ordered multiple rolls of film and created a list of what I wanted to see. For the next few months after that initial outing hiking became my summer obsession, and I want to be as elevated as possible with a film camera in hand as I did it.

As I hiked near and far, short and tall, I learned quite a bit about hiking with film photography equipment. So I’d like to pass on some of the most important lessons I’ve learned from the miles I’ve spent clicking on the trail.

1. Check your gear before you start.

The most important piece of advice I can give is to check your gear the night before a hike. Multiple mishaps can happen the day of what is predicted to be a successful trip. Errors that might be considered unthinkable have happened to even the best photographers. I like to stick to a routine: check functionality, check storage, check battery. Things that can be checked before, and go wrong when they aren’t, are the most frustrating you can endure.

On one weekend in 2019 my friends and I planned to watch the sunset while hiking along the scenic route of Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park. As we drove from our weekend rental, I noticed that I forgot my battery for my digital camera. (This was in my pre-film days.) Of course, my heart sank into my stomach. All I wanted was to capture the majesty of this incredible place with the camera that was now just a very expensive brick.

Sure enough, it was later in the trip that I witnessed one of the most beautiful sunsets I thought nature was capable of. Fiery colors danced around clouds, retreating behind Virginia’s portion of the Appalachians.

And I wouldn’t be able to take a single picture.

Until I remembered the old Canon AE-1 Program that my aunt had given to me as a present. I pulled it out of my bag and snapped away until the roll was finished. To this day, one of the pictures from that roll remains one of my favorites. This experience is what started my change from mainly digital to mainly film photography. I fell in love with it. Despite the happy ending, the story still serves as reminder to always check your gear thoroughly before packing it away and heading out. Doing so will save you heartbreak down the road.

2. Bring extra rolls of film

I’ve learned the hard way to bring extra rolls of film when going on a long hike. You don’t ever want to run out of frames half-way through a nature walk. Think about it: You’re shooting beautifully framed shots of jagged rocks, cavernous canyons, and trees as green as a Shamrock Shake when suddenly you realize you just shot your last frame halfway through the day. It’s not a hard experience to come by, especially if you’re on a roll, shooting in a uniquely scenic area and genuinely enjoy snapping pictures. There are no more than 15 pictures on a roll of medium format and no more than 36 on a roll of 35mm film, both of which can be expended quickly.

Here’s a personal example: The same friend that introduced me to hiking took me to Ralph Stover State Park north of Philadelphia. He told me it was like “nothing I’d ever seen before.” And he was right.

The hike started with short rocky hills with rails leading to views of a deep canyon. The park was also known as “High Rocks” and is popular for climbing up the canyon’s walls or rapelling down, which was emphasized with the numbers of scattered carabiners on the ground. As we trekked across mounds of rocks I snapped a photo every time I saw something interesting, which was often. But I had only brought one roll of film – Ektar 100 – which while perfect for the occasion was not perfect in quantity.  I was out of film by the time we reached the canyon floor.

And wow, it was beautiful! I used my last two frames to capture the beauty of the scenery around me and for a group shot to remember a memorable day spent with friends. But I had to make the return hike without any film. Once we got to the top, we ate dinner and watched the sunset. It was equally refreshing and upsetting to not be constantly taking pictures.

3. Know the trails you will hike beforehand

If you’re anything like me, you overpack when it comes to camera gear. All I really need is one medium format SLR, a 35mm SLR, a 35mm point and shoot, and a 35mm rangefinder. Sometimes, I’ll even toss in a digital camera. I know it’s absurd, but I really enjoy the looks I get from each camera, especially in the same setting. And, I have a system for when I use each camera.

With all that extra weight on my back, I learned to know beforehand what trails you’re going to hike. I asked another hiker friend to recommend a scenic spot I could go when I was crazed with the idea of hiking to elevation. She quickly recommended a hidden gem that was quite hard to find. When we arrived, the parking lot was suspicious and we had little idea where to go. All we knew was that this “gem” was at the top of the mountain next to the parking lot. My group and I slid down a dirt mound to cross a wide creek. While bushwhacking without orientation came with its own thrills, the hike would have been a lot easier had we known that about 250 meters to our left, there was a designated trail that led to the location.

Unaware of this luxurious preexisting trail, we scaled the mountain gripping its rotting roots, crunching its dead leaves and trodding its wet soil. The frequent breaks were inevitable and the trek was a little more difficult with the four cameras weighing on my back. 

The strain washed from our memories as we reached the summit and saw the view before us. The attraction was nicknamed the “Devil’s Tea Table” as there was a formation of rocks that was built to look like a table; small rock on the bottom, medium rock in the middle and an even bigger rock on the top. Next to the “table” there was a gorgeous view of the river. The photos that I took with the cameras more than made up for the threats made in transit to my cardiovascular system. But had I done my homework ahead of time, I could have had the same view with a lot less effort.

[Will you see a waterfall on your next hike? Check out our article with tips on how to best capture them.]

4. Dress appropriately

Any hiker, even those just hiking to take gorgeous pictures of scenery, should be dressed appropriately to the hike they’re about to take. What you’re wearing is often the only thing protecting you and your camera gear from the elements. My most important non-camera “go to item” is an athletic pair of sneakers in good, comfortable condition. You want them broken in to maximum comfort, but without any defects that could cause any unforeseen issues. It’s important to remember that hiking isn’t a fashion show, even if your goal is to capture Mother Nature at her best dressed moment. It’s better to choose the gear and clothing that are comfortable and functional for the trail and to support the equipment you are carrying. It is sometimes your only line of defense.

5. Have quick access to gear

The only thing worse than missing a shot because of not being prepared is missing the shot when you are prepared! I’ve learned the hard way that a camera out of reach is often one that sees beautiful opportunities slip away. You can’t predict when the perfect shot will present itself, so always keep your camera easily accessible. 

I learned this lesson during a nightime excursion on which my friend and I rode our longboards under the moonlight. There was a great vibe between us. Or there was until I saw a great composition with streetlights. I asked my friend to stop and wait while I rummaged through my backpack to find my Mamiya 645 I had loaded up with Ilford Delta 3200. Much to my friend’s chagrin, this exercise repeated itself throughout the night as I continued to see cool subjects and ground the journey to a halt to unpack the camera all over again. 

It was only later that I realized I could have accessed my Mamiya through a side pocket on my bag. (Maybe another rule should be have a good understanding of all your gear.)

Hiking as an analog photographer can be a truly rewarding experience. I’ve captured some of my best compositions while hiking. That said, I still have a long way to go before I feel truly comfortable hiking with film. These tips are a nice safety net. I’m no professional, but I’ve learned these lessons the hard way and think they would help improve the experience for anyone. I plan on hiking more in the future, perhaps with even bigger, stronger cameras strapped to my back. 

Happy hiking and remember to leave no trace on the trail.

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The post Advice for Hiking as a Film Photographer appeared first on Casual Photophile.

At the very beginning of every photographer’s journey there’s a phase, a time where we are trying everything possible with our new toys. From awkward poses, to light trail long exposures, to pestering our family members for that “just one more” picture. 

I did all of this. And next on my list was understanding exploring the world of tiny things (something which was easier said than done). Experimenting with a dorky magnifying glass did result in a very marginal increase in magnification, but it was accompanied by a drastic loss of image quality. It was then that a dear friend of mine mentioned and introduced me to reverse lens macro photography. 

What is reverse lens macro photography, and how does it work?

A lens, when attached correctly to a camera, projects a small image of a distant large body onto the sensor or sheet of film. This is how cameras fit life size objects with immense detail, onto a tiny 36 x 24mm image area (as is the case with 35mm or full frame digitals). By reversing the lens (literally attaching the lens to our camera with it facing wrong way round) we flip the equation. With the front of the lens close to the sensor and the back of the lens far away we are projecting a large image of a tiny object onto the sensor. 

Wider focal lengths having the maximum magnification abilities (as compared to a standard 50mm focal length). Focal lengths from 18-35mm can help in bringing out details from small subjects like flora and fauna, whereas 50mm and upwards are ideal for something like product photography and creating some distance between your subject. Though higher magnification is always desirable, when on wider focal lengths it is advisable to be cautious as more often than not, you will find yourself bumping into the subject. 

Reversing the lens can be done in two ways – either by hand holding it (very similar to free lensing) or with the help of an inexpensive reverse coupling ring. Both achieve the same results, albeit with varying levels of clarity and frustration. 

While hand holding a newer lens (ones without an aperture ring) is entirely possible, results are far more consistent with older lenses with a dedicated aperture control ring. With a set it and forget it approach, vintage lenses provide a good starting point for anyone trying reverse lens macro photography for the very first time. On newer lenses with a physical aperture control (some lenses have electronically controlled apertures, which makes this technique very difficult), taping the aperture tab on the mount will help you open up the lens to its maximum and fix it at that. While you will lose depth of field, you gain a lot of light-gathering ability at the same time.  

Stability is also very much an essential need when doing reverse lens macro photography. With razor-thin focusing planes and very shallow depth of field, a tripod can be very beneficial. When hand-holding my advice would be to sit down and use your elbows as a support mechanism, restricting your motion to only one axis.    

Lighting is another factor that plays an essential role in the final quality of your results. Table lamps are a great way to start with, where wrapping a white cloth bag will diffuse the light and spread it evenly across your frame. Get your light source as close to your subject as possible. This will give your sensor enough light to bring out details in the shadows. Macro photography is all about details. 

While hand-holding to free-lens with reverse lens macro photography is fun and can create unpredictable and exceedingly artistic results, the purest results come by using a dedicated reversal ring. These rings are cheap and made for nearly any camera and lens combination. They are simple devices – one side of the adapter is threaded to screw into the filter threads of your lens (buy the one which matches your lens’ filter thread diameter), and the other end of the adapter has a bayonet lens mount which attaches to your camera body like any other lens. Screw the adapter to the front of the lens, reverse the lens and attach it to the body. Simple. Using these adapters will make the sharpest, brightest images, allow you the most control, and nullify most of the potential drawbacks outlined below.

What are the potential drawbacks?

As mentioned, reversal ring adapters are great and the free-lensing method demands the most compromise. As such, the drawbacks noted here will apply mostly to the hand-held method. 

When we detach the lens from the body, we lose all of its technical capability. Things like autofocus and EXIF data recording are lost. Focusing is achieved by moving the entire setup back and forth linearly and slowly. You also lose things like automatic diaphragm (where you can focus and compose at f/2 but take the photo at f/8), leaving you to deal with a darker viewfinder. This is where strong lighting becomes essential. Using live view alongside focus peaking will help in composing the image properly in such a scenario. 

As an added note, exposing your lens outwards does come with an increased risk of damaging the contact pins. An extra bit of caution never hurts, so be careful with those exposed bits. Lastly, we also lose infinity focus capabilities. This is hardly a problem with macro photography. And of course there’s also a slight chance of getting dust inside your camera. This is a negligible risk, really. I have had it much worse trying to change lenses on a seashore compared with doing reverse lens macro for extended periods of time.   

Patience is paramount with reverse lens macro. It can be slightly intimidating when getting started, with things going wrong all the time. Achieving focus is particularly challenging as even the slightest changes in the environment can cause disturbances. Working in a space with minimal disturbance can be of great help. 

Why bother? 

Reverse lens macro does come with its fair share of drawbacks and challenges. But it’s got plenty of advantages as well. Firstly, there’s a higher magnification effect than we can achieve with conventional close-up lens filters (which James covered here). A conventional macro lens goes to about 10 diopters, whereas a reversed lens can be anywhere from 20 to 40 diopters in comparison. 

There is also a variety that can be had when using the  reverse lens macro technique. As this technique does not depend on the lens mount, you can experiment with countless other lenses with varying focal lengths, apertures, and specs. You can even mix it up and try various optics not conventionally used for photography (such as projector lenses). 

You could even combine the effects of reverse lens macro by stacking it. Twin lens reverse macro is a powerful tool that can help you get even closer while giving some degree of control back to the user. It allows you to use two lenses, one of which will be mounted correctly to the camera and the other mounted in reverse to the filter thread of the first one. This way, with native lenses, you can even control the aperture and use the focus ring up to a certain degree.  

Lastly, it’s the infinite possibilities that open up when doing macro. Everything from paintbrushes to flowers to dewdrops, everything becomes a fresh new subject. Stuck as we are in times of uncertainty, macro photography helps us explore new worlds right within the comfort of our homes. A tiny drop of water takes on an exciting shape and form when viewed through the lens of a macro photographer. Day to day objects give rise to new creative outlooks and ideas. The shopaholic within us can take a break. 

For those of us, like me, who have convinced ourselves that photography is an expensive hobby, try this technique out. You’ll spend nearly no money, and open up a whole new world of photographic possibility. And if you try it, let us know. I would love to see the photographs you make, and to know about your experience in the comments below.

Get your reversal ring from B&H Photo here

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

The post Reverse Lens Macro Photography – Intro and How To Guide appeared first on Casual Photophile.