Pixiq

Maybe mad dogs and Englishmen enjoy the midday sun, but not I; at least not when I have my camera slung around my neck.

Look, let me digress and admit here at the beginning: I’m not a pro photographer. Far from it. I am the guy who shoots forty pictures at my kid’s soccer game on a sunny afternoon and realizes afterward I had the ISO set at 1600, the white balance at Fluorescent, and the f/stop at 2.8; a triple hangover from recording a dance recital the previous day in the school’s sublimely lit (jk) gymnasium. No, I am simply someone who has an abiding interest in taking and processing pictures (bordering on obsession, my family might say—but I’ll get to that in a minute), and who possesses about enough skill in the field to record a decent photo once in a while amid many attempts that often produce textbook examples of underexposure, blurred subjects, or blown highlights.

So, having dispensed with that scintillating and vital information, let’s move on. I’m going to tell you about a running joke among my wife and two daughters, whose six eyes collectively roll skyward in a choreographed display of psychological fatigue as I shout one more time, wherever we might happen to be, “Wait a minute, guys, while I get picture of [ . . . fill in the blank . . . ].”

This so-called joke at my expense (cruelly, as you fellow photo enthusiasts must sympathize) has to do with the light and the time of day, because, not that they care all that much, but these young ladies have heard my lament so many times before. On a family hike for example, or on vacation, as the sun climbs high and we pass an obviously photo-worthy subject or scene, each girl might look at me with incredulity as I trek with camera locked to tripod, baseball cap on backwards, pockets bulging with extra batteries and memory cards, and an additional lens in a bag strapped to my belt — the very picture (ha) of a photo geek without the good sense to outfit myself in a snappy photo backpack or vest — and ask why I’m not going to take a picture of said photo-worthy object (not that they really want me to stop and set up and make them all hang out while I do what I want to do, namely bracket another series of images for storage on my hard drive). [That was one hell of a sentence—reminds me of reading Tristram Shandy, but that’s neither here nor there — well, actually it’s here. But again I digress.]

Then the ladies in my family—wife and daughters — laugh and say, before I can get the words out of my mouth, “Oh, it’s the middle of the day. It’s really hard to take good pictures in the harsh noon-time sun.”

 Yuk, yuk, yuk, very funny girls. So funny I forgot to laugh.

Well, I’m sure plenty of photographers can take very good pictures during the bright light of middle day. There’re ways to do it. And sometimes it’s necessary, like during kids’ soccer games (remember, ISO 1600 above?) scheduled (without consulting me, by the way) during bright daytime hours. But I find that working nine to five, photographically speaking, presents a barrier to recording pleasing pictures. The blown highlights, the high contrast, the features hidden in shadow; you get the picture (ha). For me, it’s those golden hours in the early evening, and especially in the early morning, when I find myself recording my personal best images. 

I've come to discover that shooting early in the day is both practical and existential, because I am one of those “morning people.” For the longest time I never knew what  purpose there was for jumping out of bed at 6 a.m. on a Saturday, like toast popping from the toaster, bright and full of energy. I couldn’t help myself. I mean, I was compelled to get up, but what was I to do while all others in the household (aforementioned females) took the opportunity to grab another three hours of sleep. There are only so many episodes of SpongeBob SquarePants you can watch before your mind becomes a bowl of oatmeal.

But with the advent of my interest in digital photography several years ago, the reason has been revealed! It is to go out and shoot pictures in that most wonderful light without having to listen to one of my teenage offspring say, as I sit low to the ground with a camera to my face, trying for just the right vantage point while oblivious to all else around me, “Ohhhh, Dad, not again. You are just weird.” Oh goodness, I know I am. But once in a while, when the light is subtle and nuanced, and I don’t feel like I have to rush to “get the photo over with,” I’ll come home with a picture that I’m excited to actually print and put in a frame.