Out on a photo walk

I still remember most of the lessons my dad and my first photography teacher drilled into me. Rule of thirds, golden hour, fill the frame… and most importantly, COMPOSE! Don’t just snap.

This was from back in the good ol’ days of expensive film and hours spent crouched over in the darkroom. After the advent of digital, things changed a bit. In my opinion, too much. Of course my opinion was formed in the editing room of a publishing house, where I had to select one perfect calendar shot from a photographer that took 100 pictures of a single damn plant. I can’t even tell you what the carnage looked like when he shot a whole green house. He’d come back with several chock-full memory cards, and I’d die a little bit inside.

Naturally I do the same thing, every once in a while. At BYOBW, I’m embarrassed to say that I shot more than 500 pictures. It was so fast, and the pretty costumes, and I was so excited and collapsing with laughter… I couldn’t help myself. But hey, I got this:

That’s what happens when you position yourself at “Big Wheel Death Curve” and hold your finger on the trigger, laughing maniacally.

Luckily, though I play free and loose every once in a while when I get all excited, my stats are still mostly on the other side of the photography sluttiness meter. I just got back from a purposeful photography walk (okay, it was a Boonie-dog walk, but I had my camera and I was determined to use it), and I came home with about 50 pictures, half of which I kept, 1/5th of which I was proud enough to post on Flickr.