The Strange Truth About Those "Simple" Cameras

I use lots of different cameras. Film cameras—a Hasselblad 503cx and SWC, and a Leica M6; and for most digital work, a Nikon D200. But by far, the most difficult camera to use that I own, and the one I've worked the longest trying to figure out the mysteries of, is my "simple" Canon SD880 point & shoot.


Taking a good photo with the point-and-shoot is infinitely more difficult and infinitely more complicated than with any of the so-called "professional" cameras. (By the way, I don't mean to imply that this is a "Canon" problem. Canon makes the best point-and-shoots out there, imho.)


And of all the tricks to taking better photos with a point-and-shoot, the number-one, most important thing to know is this: turn off the flash and leave it off. The flash on those cameras is useful about 10% of the time; the rest of the time it's there to ruin your photos and to make everyone and everything in those photos look like crap.


© Joseph Gerhard. All rights reserved.

From the Highline

From a recent walk on The Highline.

© Joseph Gerhard. All rights reserved.

Katie's Office (revisited)

A slightly different framing than this one that I posted on Motelrodeo in July—and in color.

© Joseph Gerhard. All rights reserved.

Invisible

I recently read Paul Auster's new book, Invisible, easily one of the best novels I've read in a very long time. He not only tackles the many layers of invisibility in our relationship to others, but the very nature of self, fact, story-telling and reality. 

One of the most obvious—yet at the same time, nearly incomprehensible (invisible)—aspects of life, is that while we all regard our inner picture of ourselves as the real and authentic one, it is precisely that picture that is completely invisible to everyone else in the world, and the only one that will disappear forever when we go.

© Joseph Gerhard. All rights reserved.

Under the Overpass

A new folio of color photographs, Under the Overpass, is a companion of sorts to the Mill River pictures. Just downstream from where the Mill River series ends, the river passes under Interstate 91. These photos offer a glimpse of what the entire area might have looked like had the river been covered by an I-91 off-ramp as originally proposed.


Here are four of the new photos. Please click on the link above to see more.

Cooking (Enough is enough)

The trickiest part of cooking is exactly the same as the trickiest part of everything else in life: knowing when enough of something is enough, when it's way too much and when it's nowhere near enough. Once you get that, the rest is easy.

© Joseph Gerhard. All rights reserved.

Is it something or is it nothing?

Something or nothing? This is one of those things. I took this photo in Ireland over 18 months ago and still can't decide if there's anything good about it. At times, there seems to be something interesting with the way those two trees are flanked by the leaning utility pole and the ruins of the old farmhouse. That's what initially attracted me and made me take the photo, in any case. At other times, I'm not so sure. Still, the fact that it's still tugging at me after all this time, probably means something.

© Joseph Gerhard. All rights reserved.