Expose Sunsets for Maximum Drama

One of the things that I like about shooting sunsets (and I shoot a lot of them) is that you can tweak the drama scale just by changing the exposure a few stops. And because there is no right or wrong exposure for sunsets (or sunrises if you're one of those nutty morning people), you have a real wide latitude of what constitutes a "correct" exposure. In fact, with sunsets, the only perfect exposure is the one that you like the most.

Most of the time, the safest way to get an technically acceptable sunset exposure (one where you can see some foreground detail and also get good color in the sky) is to meter without the sun in the frame. Just point the lens away from the sun itself, use your camera's exposure-lock feature to hold that exposure and then refocus. You might find though that this somewhat middle-of-the-road safe exposure is too bland for your tastes. One way that you can intensify the drama is by taking your exposure reading from a brighter area of the sky; again you still don't want the sun itself, but if you expose for a brighter area, you'll get darker, more saturated colors.

In this shot, for example, I did take some shots with the lens pointing at the darker clouds in the upper right, but the sky was too washed out (because I was metering a dark area the camera tried to expose for a darker subject). But then I took some frames, including this one, where I metered for that bright area along the horizon. These exposures were about two-and-a-half stops less than the ones where I metered with the sky and it really enhanced the drama.

Tomorrow: Same sunset shot during the afterglow--it will blow you away.

Follow the Clouds to the Sunset

Over the years I think that I've developed a nose for great sunsets (I can also smell a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie a block away) and whenever I think one is about to happen, I make tracks for the beach. The best sign I have that a great sunset is on its way is a really interesting or intense cloud formation. I shot these clouds a few days after Halloween and the skies had been pretty much overcast all day. Toward the end of the day though I was taking a walk by the local seawall and noticed the cloud cover was starting to break up into interesting shapes. I particularly liked the dark bluish clouds mixing in with the lighter clouds. Often this is the perfect combination for a dynamite sunset, so I cut the walk short and drove over to a beach that has a better western view.

I got to the beach about a half hour before the sun hit the horizon and got to watch as these amazing clouds morphed from one shape to another and shifted from this white/blue combination to a more yellow/gold and then finally, as the sun hit the horizon, a beautiful crimson sunset spread across the sky. The sunset was so spectacular that a steady stream of people were hopping out of their cars with their cell phone cameras to photograph it. In the next tip I'll show you what the sunset looked like...it was quite amazing.

Today's advice is: when you see great clouds, expect a great sunset.

Tricky Treat: Mixing Flash and Holiday Lights with the Night Portrait Mode

The importance of Halloween (and the festive illumination to go with it) has taken on increasingly epic proportions at my house in the past few years. What started out as a few casual strands of orange lights a few years ago has now become a long (and fun) afternoon of stringing lights and decorations the week before the big day (or I should say, the big night). My girlfriend is the creative power behind it, I just supply the extension cords and the occasional rubber spider.

This year the lights looked so nice that I wanted to be sure that I had a photographic record to remember them. I shot some quick snapshots on Halloween night, but the truth is that we were so busy handing out candy (more than 100 kids showed up!) that I wasn't able to concentrate on shooting pictures. The next day though I came home from an assignment and, tired as I was, I decided to see if I could get some photos that captured the fun and color of the Halloween lights.

The problem with photographing holiday lights is that even if you shoot at twilight (which you should) while there is still some lingering daylight, if you expose for the lights, the surroundings go too dark. And, of course, if you expose for the darker areas, the lights wash out. Also, in this particular shot, I wanted to get some detail in a rubber spider that was hanging in a twig-wreath from a Japanese maple next to the front walk. I tried some existing light shots using long exposures to get the lights, but the spider just disappeared in the dark background. Then I tried some straight flash exposures using the built-in flash in the "auto" mode and the photos looked way too much like flash photos.

As an experiment, I turned to the Night Portrait exposure mode--one of several scene modes on my Nikon D90. I rarely use scene modes because I can usually find a better combination of exposure tricks on my own, but occasionally when all of my cleverness fails me I give the auto scene modes a shot. In this case the Night Portrait mode worked like a charm. The spider and wreath have just enough light so that you can see them and the colored lights look very natural.

The Night Portrait mode works best when the subject you want to hit with flash is relatively close to the camera (I was about two feet away from the wreath) and the background is dimly lit, but not black. It works great in situations like photographing friends in Times Square or on the Las Vegas Strip when you want to get good exposure on your friends' faces and still capture the mood of the ambient lights behind them. With most cameras, when you switch to this mode the flash pops up automatically (as it does with the D90) so you don't even have to remember to turn on the flash.

Whenever you're confronted with an exposure situation has you a bit baffled, give those scene modes on the exposure-mode dial a shot and see if they don't provide a simple solution. Halloween may be over, but I'll always have my rubber spider's portrait to remember it.

Mind the Moods of Light and Weather

One of the interesting things about photographing autumn scenes (or almost any landscape scenes, for that matter) is that, depending on the lighting and weather, they can produce a whole range of emotional responses. Scenes shot on misty or overcast days where the colors are saturated but muted have a soulful but very pensive and almost sad look to them. The same scenes shot on a sunny day with a bright blue sky are almost bursting with cheerfulness.

Of all the autumn photos I've shot recently, the ones that stand out the most to me are a few dozen that I shot of a small clump of ginko (also called maidenhair) trees in the center of town. I shot the pictures in a period of about 10 or 15 minutes and I get a happy feeling whenever I look at them. How can you look at the colors in this shot and not feel uplifted? The day after I shot this photo the clouds moved in for several days and I drove by those trees again; while their leaves were still in tact and their colors were rich, the scene was greatly dimmed, as if someone had pulled the plug on the tree, shutting off the glow. Had I seen those muted colors and the gray sky before I had seen the electric colors of the shot here, I never cold have imagined how luminescent the scene had been before.

Light and weather play profound roles in our emotional interpretation of a scene, as does the color of the sky. To get a wide range of emotional climates in your photos, it's worth exploring in all kinds of weather--especially when the autumn colors come to town.

Reflect on Autumn's Beauty

As beautiful as autumn in New England is, photographing it has always been a double-edged sword for me. On one hand, I find it to be (visually, at least) the most beautiful and inspiring season. The light at this time of year, with the sun lower in the sky and the lighting softer and more golden, combined with the radiance of the autumn leaves changing, is a soul-expanding experience.

On the other hand, beautiful as it is, I find it difficult to photograph, partly because trying to capture that beauty in a mere photograph can be overwhelming. I struggle between looking for the quintessential New England autumn shots of barns and covered bridges surrounded by flaming trees and searching out simpler, more symbolic images--a leaf floating in a stream, or a single golden branch against a radiant blue sky. The worst thing to do probably is to just drive around "looking" for pictures. I do, of course, scout around town by car for a half hour or so, but I find that parking, getting out and taking a closer look at simple scenes is often the best way to find pictures. It's really tough to spot winners at 30 mph!

Perhaps because I find fall to be such a reflective time, I often seem drawn to create compositions that include actual reflections. Reflections work nicely with autumn foliage partly, I think, because they double up on the color in a scene and also because we all seem to find reflections interesting, even alluring. By including the edge of the pond in this scene, for example, I was able to include the leaves twice--once in the scene and once in the reflection--while at the same time adding an interesting foreground.

You can intensify the colors in a reflection by using a polarizing filter if you position yourself at an angle of about 45-degrees from the surface of the water. Polarizing filters are set in a rotating mount and as you turn the filter you'll see the reflection become stronger and then (if you keep rotating it) the reflections will largely disappear. If you're shooting scenes that include a blue sky, you can also use a polarizing filter to darken blue skies, though I use them a lot less often now that I shoot digitally because I can adjust the skies more accurately in editing. I will write more about polarizing filters in a future posting, however.

By the way, I will say without shame that I warmed up this shot a tad during the RAW conversion process by increasing the color temperature of the white balance. There is not, surprisingly enough, much saturation going on; just increasing the warmth was enough to intensify the colors quite a bit. Incidentally I'm addicted to using the RAW format now and feel free to post a comment or write if you'd like me to talk more about why I now love RAW so much (and this is a relatively new development for me!).

Here's an interesting historical side note about the pond in this shot: Peck's Mill Pond is just a mile from my house and in 1899 it was the scene of the worst train disaster in New England history up to that point. A trolley went off its tracks crossing a small bridge over the pond and 36 people were trapped inside and killed. I grew up in this town and have always known of the tragedy that took place at the pond and so (speaking of reflections) there is some element of reflection on that tragic event whenever I shoot photos of that pond.

Photographing Autumn Colors: Make Hay (or Autumn Pictures) While the Sun Shines

Autumn is probably my favorite time of year. I just love the smell of woodsmoke in the air, seeing pumpkins on everyone's front steps, the sweet taste of fresh-made cider--and getting another chance to photograph those amazing autumn leaves. Of all the surprises that Mother Nature has to offer photographers, few are more fascinating to watch than seeing thousands of trees and millions of leaves burst into intense shades of yellow, orange and red. If you've never seen the height autumn's glory in New England, it's a sight to behold.

In New England everyone talks about the "peak" of color as if it were some type of mystical moment--and in some ways it is. While some autumns are better than others, in each season there seems to be a short window of a few days (some Vermonters will tell you it's a few hours) when the leaves are so intensely colored you'd think they're going to just burst and start squirting colorful pigments all over the landscape--the colors are that brilliant. The colors are so outlandish, in fact, that they seem to shine even on the darkest nights.

When the colors get to this state, however, you have to have your camera ready and be prepared to drop what you're doing and start shooting. I saw the tree here while on my way to a dentist appointment and the afternoon light was just starting to illuminate the leaves. I actually thought of blowing-off the appointment to photograph the tree, but decided I had some time before the light was perfect. Thankfully it was a short appointment and so I was able to run home after, grab my camera and get back to the tree just as the last rays of late afternoon light were igniting the treetop. I shot for about 15 minutes, taking a variety of views of this tree and some others nearby and then the sun faded and the magic was gone. The tree was still beautiful to look at, but the illumination was over for the day.

Whether it's the true peak or not, when you see a spectacular tree like this, you have to make an effort to photograph it because, as so often happens in life, the beauty fades quickly. Today there is a driving rain outside and I'm sure that a lot of the leaves in that tree are laying on the ground. That doesn't mean they still wouldn't make a nice photo--leaves in a pile make a great shot--but that moment of the tree just ignited with autumn color, with every leaf in place, is almost certainly over until next year. How glad I am that I made the effort to shoot it.

In the next tip I'll give you some ideas of what kinds of subjects to shoot and some technical tips for getting the best colors.

Tell the Story of Forgotten Spaces

It's easy to look for pictures in the places that are likely to produce "pretty" pictures--the beach, meadows, your garden, etc. Let's face it, beaches and meadows and gardens were made to be photographed and it's your duty as the committed photographer that you are to bring those beautiful scenes home.

But sometimes the most interesting photos are found in places where you would least expect them to be lurking--places like your backyard tool shed, your neighbor's garage or even in the attic of an old barn, which is where I found this shot. I discovered this fascinating little vignette at a Christmas tree farm where (snoop that I am) I had wandered off into an old barn where I'm sure I wasn't supposed to be. The roof of the barn (probably because this area had once been the farmer's workshop) was made of translucent panels (a more modern innovation, no doubt) that created a blissfully soft light over the entire room. Had the lighting not been so soft and enticing I might have just taken a wishful glance at the room and moved on, but with that nice lighting just melting across the room there was no way I wasn't going to photograph it.

The great thing about finding unexpected gems like this is that they're not only great photographic finds, but they tell a story of the places you discover. The farm where this photo was taken has been in the same family since 1812 and I can't help but look at this photo and wonder about all of the hands, across several generations, that have worked in this room and heaped up these old bits of tools and wood. Does the current generation peak into this forgotten corner as they pass by and think about their ancestors? I know that I would.

I grew up near an old mill pond and there was an abandoned milling house falling into ruin in the woods nearby. When we weren't fishing in the pond we used to climb through a window into the mill house and it was like being in an old tool museum--there were still hand tools on the benches, muskrat traps and ice tongs hanging from the walls, and windows full of decades-old spider webs. The mill was torn down before I took up photography but how I wish I could travel back in time to that place with a camera!

But lots of similar places still exist. And the places you explore don't have to be so profoundly historic or even that hidden, either. How many stories are waiting to be told on your dad's workbench, or in your mother's sewing corner? These places are so familiar to us that we tend to overlook them and yet, they are often the most meaningful places in our lives.

Next time you're looking for something interesting to photograph, climb up to the attic or go visit take a walk through an abandoned factory row. You just never know what treasures are sitting there waiting for you.