Monthly Archives: August 2020

Convo Flow of a Pro and a No-Know Non-Pro

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A photographer friend gave me a camera a while ago and I have yet to learn how to use it.
It’s on my list.
Today I wanted professional photos of my artwork and since I’m not a pro, I consulted my pro friend.
Granted, I’ve had the camera about a year and by now should have learned its ins and outs, or at least more than On/Off. But I didn’t.
Anyway, here’s our text-versation:
Me: What’s the best setting on the camera to take photos of paintings I’ve done now when the light is so good from my west window?
Him: Automatic is good as anything
Him: Maybe set your exposure compensation 1/2 stop over exposed
Him: Make sure shutter speed is at least 1/60th of a sec (preferably 1/100 or faster) if you are handholding the camera
Me: Yes! That’s the kind of weird professional photographer kind of technical stuff I was looking for! (I was really was, because then when someone asked, “How did you take this exquisite photo?” I could answer honestly with lingo I did not understand but accomplished.
Me: Whaaaaaat?
Him: That said, you artists are very OCD with the photographing of your artwork so maybe take a pic and then if it’s not what you want, explain to me what’s wrong and maybe I could help with ideas
Me: Ha! Yes! Ok I like that!
Texts lag a bit, as you know; crossing in the ether allows for some delay, so his next thought was slightly behind my own.
Him: What do you mean?!!! You asked!!
Me: LOL! Yes I did
Him: And it wasn’t even technical! Next time though, next time
Me: It was totally technical…you can’t go from “fully automatic” to “f stops a half step over xx the short stop with bases loaded at 1/600 of a second past midnight”
Him: Two settings! TWO!!
Me: Problem: my paper is wrinkly and the window is so dirty I’m actually photographing smudged glass reflected upon my painting…I wish I was kidding.
Me: Where are these settings?
Him: Just use auto!
Him: And see what happens
Me: Ok, ok, sheesh…so much yelling…
Him: Then let me know what you don’t like about it. The whole key is trying to keep the whites white; the camera wants to make them gray. Hence 1/2 over exposed.
Me: Yup, gray. Where’s the half stop?
Me: And when was I OCD? I loved your photos [of my previous art, photos he’d taken and suspiciously did not offer to take today] and I don’t remember complaining about a single thing
Him: …
Me: This th
ing [the camera] isn’t touch screen…it’s broken…
Him: …
Me: Um…hello?
Him: …
Me: I broke you, didn’t I?
Many minutes later…
Me: I found the half stop! Yay, me!
Twenty-two minutes later…
Him: Ok. Did you figure it out? Did you get results?
Me: I…got pretty pics…I think. Wanna see? I can maybe figure out how to DL to a FD [flash drive] and IM them to you. [I’m not certain in any way I can DL them…it requires a cord, and rising from this comfy chair and digging into the depths of one of the many kitchen junk drawers for a cord I’m not certain I would recognize if I saw it]
Him: …
Yup, he’s done with me.
But sometimes, poking at someone is just too fun. 🙂

 

 

Prairie Dwelling with what Preys

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fuzzy mantis

Yesterday, I communed with nature,
I meant to whack nature down with the tractor, not make peace, but along came a preying mantis to perch upon my hood.
I took the picture without cutting the mower because, hey, I was working. All that vibration and the mantis is fuzzy, yes, but look how crisp the grass appears? Splotchy, browned by August heat, but green thanks to weird rains.
I digress.
We rode the acreage, and the bug made me miss my pups, the two who usually rode the plain atop my lap when I mowed. They are gone. One rode no matter what, ears flapping, toothless, tongue drying in the wind, there for the duration. The other rode until he couldn’t, at which point he clawed my denim leg seeking a point for launch. Brake. Set the pup free. Mow on, while he plodded along behind until the mower quit.
If Fitbit had counted his steps, he would have set records.
Now on a fine Sunday afternoon, a storm to the north sending cool breezes my way while I watch the clouds for lightning, Pup-less, I’m riding with a bug, his oversized eyes upon the changing horizon, my human-sized eyes torn between the sky and the insect. We are happy.
Around the sixtieth left turn, Mantis grew bored. With a pivot I did not see he set upon a path straight up the orange hood of the mower while my subconscious screamed, “They jump!”
Just as danger green-leg stilted in my direction, as soon as his antennae honed into my location, and as his back legs crouched further, tensed to pounce, I may have jerked the wheel to the left.
His tiny form flew past, front legs reaching to nab me.
Whatever he found wanting in the ride, I don’t know. But these days, I travel alone.
An hour later a juvenile rattlesnake sprang from beneath my favorite Vitex bush, and a cicada riding a weeded tree limb cried “foul!” from beneath the oversized plastic lid of the world’s most gigantic municipality-provided trash can.
I told them all to suck it and hit the shower.
All in all, a good day on the farm.