Photograph Mundane Things by Michael Jin

© 2018 Michael Jin

In photography, there's a constant temptation to look for the fantastic. We search for unique features, interesting compositions, juxtapositions, or notable events in hopes that it will create visual interest to draw the viewer in. While I don't discount the value of these principals in creating interesting images, I also believe that the constant search for these things can, at times, give us tunnel vision where we stop observing the otherwise mundane world.

At some point last year, I went out to take photos near my house and I took a photo of some graffiti on the wall.

© 2017 Michael Jin

It wasn't anything fancy—a throwaway shot, really. I was just pushing frames and wasting film. I didn't give any real thought to composition or anything else when I took it and frankly, I forgot that I had taken it for some time. There was nothing particularly special or notable about it since I walk by graffiti everyday and as you can see, we're not exactly talking about a Banksy here.

One day, however, I noticed that it was gone. Someone had put a fresh coat of paint over it to cover the graffiti, as happens so often in this city. I drive by this wall on my way home from work everyday and I cannot for the life of me tell you how long after the wall was painted that I finally noticed that this graffiti was gone.

It's so easy to get so focused on finding the different that we lose sight of the familiar. When we get on the bus, we put our heads down into our phone or close our eyes to sleep. When we leave the house, we just walk right by all of the perfectly ordinary scenery with nary a thought about it. On some level, however, that scenery is constantly in flux. On a smaller scale, it's a bit of graffiti being erased from a wall. On a larger scale, it's the gradual transformation of neighborhoods.

Take a moment once in a while to look around and occasionally photograph the mundane things because before you know it, they might not be there to capture anymore. The bit of graffiti that I took a photo of that day is gone, but it still exists on a film strip in my negative binder serving as a visual document of a tiny piece of my neighborhood's history.

Impostor Syndrome by Michael Jin

© 2018 Michael Jin

It's a pretty common occurrence for me. I'll come back from shooting, load my photos into Lightroom, look through them, and then a wave of depression will wash over me. As I scroll through photo after photo, I am faced with the realization that I'm just not very good at this. There are so many talented photographers out there and my work pales in comparison, so why am I bothering with any of this? Maybe I should just sell of my equipment and take up a different hobby. After all, I could probably shoot for a lifetime and I will still never approach the level of the greats. It all seems like an exercise in futility.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? Maybe some of you can relate to this constant feeling of inadequacy. I imagine that most have probably felt it at some point or another—at least once you get beyond the initial stage where you think that you're the greatest photographer since Ansel Adams and suddenly you're faced with all of the legitimate talent that's actually out there. I've heard it called many things, but the term that I think is the most descriptive is "Impostor Syndrome". It is this visceral feeling that you're just posing as a photographer, but you know that you don't have the skills and the sinking feeling that comes from knowing that at some point or another, someone is going to call you out on it and the charade will be up.

For some people, it provides the drive to improve. For others such as myself, it can be quite devastating to deal with. I imagine that it's just another extension of the self-esteem issues that I am constantly at war with and my tendency to fall into depression really doesn't help. Beyond drinking some magic potion that turns you into a savant photographer, how do you deal with this feeling?

For one, I try to remind myself that photography is a very subjective thing and there is no universal rule for what constitutes "good" or "bad" photography. Also, my photography is a reflection of myself and my own vision so it makes little sense to compare it to someone like Ansel Adams who lived a different life, had a different system of values, and noticed different things. While there is always a desire to emulate the masters (because they're the masters), it's important to be mindful that our most meaningful work is going to be borne from our own experiences. Another positive to take away is the fact that the ability to sit back, evaluate your photos, and see your weaknesses is, in itself, a skill and strength. It's only the ignorant that believe that their work cannot be improved upon simply because they don't know better. When you notice your weaknesses, it is the first step toward strengthening those aspects of your craft.

Listen, it's not easy. There's a very fine line between being properly critical of your own work and needless self flagellation. Finding that balance where you can identify which criticisms are reasonable and which aren't is perhaps the most difficult part of dealing with Impostor Syndrome. It's also important to keep in mind that as photographer and artists, we have a tendency to be our own worst critics. Because we're so close to our work, we will often notice minute details that even many educated viewers will overlook. While it's always noble to strive for better, don't let it hinder your ability to produce the work that you want, whether it's in the form of discouragement or becoming so obsessed with processing that the work is never "ready" to show others.

There's a saying that "Perfection is the enemy of the good.". Your photography does no good staying on your hard drive or in a negative sleeve with nobody seeing it. The most perfect photograph that reaches nobody might as well not exist while a flawed photograph that reaches an audience is bound to have at least some influence in the world. Don't be afraid to put your work out there because there is likely someone out there that needed to see it. So long as that work is an honest reflection of yourself and your vision, you will never be an "impostor". You will always be an authentic you... and that's all anyone can reasonably ask for.

The masters have come, gone, and left wonderful work for us to enjoy. We don't need people to ape them. We need new voices and new perspectives. Let others be others and you concentrate on being yourself. Don't waste your life away trying to be someone that you're not.

Photography Students by Michael Jin

© 2017 Michael Jin

As I walk down the street, it feels like I can almost always pick out a into-level photography student when I see them. More often than not, they tend to carry around way more gear than seems necessary. A lot of times, they are sporting a cheap film camera (generally sub-$100) or entry-level DSLR that's a few generations old around their neck and more often than not, they're leading some poor female friend around to take shots of them in ways that make your head scratch as it all occurs in front of you. Sometimes I pause and watch, trying to figure out what might be going through their heads as they inevitably start searching for some dramatic angle to make their photo interesting.

I suppose I'm more sensitive to it since I'm not all that far removed from it myself. Granted, my film cameras are a bit more expensive as is my DSLR, and although I use a much more sensible sling strap for my cameras, I still have a terrible habit of carrying around way more gear than I reasonably need at any given moment, which my wife will attest to. I still find myself constantly experimenting to make up for my lack of pre-visualization skills and I'll certainly still try out the dramatic angle or clichè shot on occasion on occasion just because "maybe it will work this time".

© 2017 Michael Jin

Hint: It usually doesn't.

I think my fascination with watching other photo students is the fact that it so often looks like looking into a strange time-machine mirror. Of course there's a certain degree of variance, but it's amazing how so many of us coming from such different backgrounds can go through the same struggles and the same patterns of behavior in our development. It makes me wonder about generations past. Did they also go through the rounds of taking the same terrible shots?

Anyway, I just wanted to talk about this a bit because I ran across that top photo in my Lightroom catalog and it brought up the memory of that day. If you're a photography student just starting out, don't be discouraged when you develop those negatives and see atrocious photos. It's just part of the process of learning so accept that you're likely going to be taking horrible photos for a very long time (with hopefully a few lucky strikes in-between to keep you motivated) before you finally learn to take some good ones. The important thing is to constantly be open to experimenting and, more importantly, LEARNING from those experiments. You can read all of the books, take all of the classes, and watch every single video tutorial that you want, but there's only one way that you'll really improve. And that's by continuing to press that shutter button and push those frames.

© 2017 Michael Jin

Capture Beautiful Moments by Michael Jin

© 2017 Michael Jin

Last summer, I decided to meet up with a former co-worker to photograph her on Coney Island. I'm always looking for people to photograph and unfortunately, my social anxiety tends to prevent me from reaching out to strangers and most of the people around me have no interest in having me point a camera toward them so it makes finding human subjects a relatively difficult task.

Even though there wasn't really any awkwardness between us, we weren't really close friends or anything so I wasn't really sure how to approach this shoot. We discussed some vague ideas and she sent me a few photos on the web that she liked so I figured I'd use that as direction. For some reason, I just had this idea in my mind that we would meet up, head to the beach, and I was direct her through some poses or something. What actually transpired, however, was very different from what I had envisioned and it transformed my outlook on photographing people

Perhaps it was because we hadn't seen each other in a while, but when I picked her up, we started chatting and catching up while we drove to the beach. While it started with just some normal small talk, one question led to another and before I knew it, the discussion had suddenly become very heavy and we were just sitting on a bench on the boardwalk for an hour as she opened up about a lot of the things that she was struggling with. Suddenly, I realized that I wasn't so interested in directing her through some standard poses by the waves as I was with trying to somehow encapsulate the emotion that was coming through in that moment. I'm not sure why this felt so important to me, but as we continued to talk, I picked up my camera and started taking photos as I was just sitting next to her on this bench and listening to her.

Eventually, after a good long chat, she was ready to get some sand between her toes and model for me, but as we went through the motions, I couldn't help but feel this emptiness in it. After everything we had just gone through, it all seemed so superficial. I won't say that the photos came out poorly and having an attractive subject goes a long way in that regard, but as I was scrolling through the photos in my Lightroom catalog, I became fixated on this one particular photo that I had taken while she was talking. I'm not going to say that it's a really great photo by most standards. It's certainly not the type of picture you would expect from a beach photo shoot, but to me, it's the most meaningful picture of the shoot—not because of the technical elements of the photo itself, but because it captures genuine emotion. To be honest, when I sent her all of the photos and brought up this photos in particular, she didn't really like it because she thought she looked too sad in it. I'm not sure if she'll ever look back and change her mind about it—I'm sure that the photo represents something very different to her than it does to me—but taking this photo cause something of a paradigm shift in me.

I think that many of us get into photography to take beautiful photos. We look through magazines or social media feeds and see paragons of the industry treating us to aesthetic bliss. We watch videos of photographers conducting fashion shoots with beautiful models or photographers travelling to all manner of exotic locales to capture amazingly beautiful scenery. Beauty is very much at the heart of much of our interest in photography and why wouldn't it be? However, I have come to realize that though I appreciate beautiful aesthetics, I appreciate far more the beautiful moments in our lives. The beautiful moments to me are those slices of life when we briefly shed our curated self image to let others see us as we truly are. They are the moments when we interact with our environment in the most natural way, unconcerned with how we might be perceived. They might not be the most aesthetically pleasing moments, but I think they are the moments that really matter.

For many seasoned photographers (particularly those interested in street or candid photography), this will all probably sound incredibly obvious, but for those who, like myself, are just beginning their photographic journey, in earnest I think it's an important thing to seek out because our artistic voice is not defined by our aesthetic choices, but by our system of values and how they pertain to our photography. Anyone can imitate aesthetics, but only you are privy to what moments you find beautiful. Only you can decide what is worth capturing. Only you are uniquely able, in your own manner, to extract or distill these moments in the photos that you capture. So focus on finding and capturing beautiful moments. The rest will slowly fall into place.

Using The Argus Seventy-Five with Ilford HP5+ by Michael Jin

I asked my father if he had any old film cameras a while back. His response was pulling out an old Canon ELPH which used APS film that is no longer sold and that I would not have the equipment to develop anyway. When I pointed that out, he took out a camera that I initially thought was a TLR. It was the Argus Seventy-Five.

White the camera certainly looks like a TLR, looks can be deceiving. It's essentially a TLR-looking equivalent of a box camera or toy camera that you can look down into to compose. Sure, there are two lenses, but there's no ability to focus the camera so the viewfinder just uses a mirror with no ground glass. The camera has a fixed aperture of approximately f/11 (although I've read f/13 as well) and two shutter speeds to select from: Bulb and approximately 1/60". The focusing distance is fixed at something like 10 feet, which means that it's probably more suitable for street shooting than for portraiture.

Unfortunately, it is designed to take 620 rolls of film which aren't largely manufactured. The ones that you can find are often re-spooled rolls of 120 or small batch productions that carry an absurd price premium (think $15 a roll). I was initially discouraged after seeing those prices, but it turns out that if you try hard enough (like, really really try) you can fit a normal 120 roll into the supply side while using a 620 spool on the take-up side. I loaded up a roll of Ilford HP5+ and the photos above are the results of the single roll that I put through it.

One would think that the lack of controls would make shooting pretty easy, but I found the experience to be maddening. Because there's no way to control anything, you're left to the whims of whatever light happens to be available, which actually made it extremely difficult to expose properly since the light never seemed to be just right. Everything came out either under or over exposed and I suppose that I will consider myself rather fortunate that HP5+ is forgiving enough to deal with such wild swings.

The film was developed in Kodak XTOL (1+0) at 20-degrees for whatever time Massive Dev Chart has. Continuous agitation via inversions for the first 30 seconds and then for 10 seconds each minute at a rate of 3 full inversions per 10 seconds. I do all of my developing and drying in my laundry room so I am constantly waging a war against dust and it seems like this film was a a battle that I very much lost in that regard. Oh well... Shit happens, right?

After seeing the results, I'm not entirely sure what to make of the camera. Its rendering is more clinical than toy cameras that I'm used to seeing and thus it lacks the lo-fi charm, but at the same time, it's not really sharp like a real TLR. The lack of any sort of manual controls is what really gets me most about this camera. Even the Holga 120N that I recently purchased can at least switch between two apertures and adjust focusing distance. While the Argus Seventy-Five looks good on my shelf, I highly doubt that I'll be running another roll through it anytime soon. I'd rather pick up a Holga or get myself a real TLR...

The Wedding Guest by Michael Jin

©2018 Michael Jin.

I just attended a wedding and I was torn about whether or not to bring my camera with me. Maybe some of you can relate, but I carry one of my cameras everywhere and I feel a bit naked leaving the house without one at this point. Despite this, it also feels odd to go to an event like this basically looking like a photojournalist when I wasn't hired to photograph the event. I don't want to be stepping on toes or drawing unnecessary attention to myself and showing up with camera gear tends to run counter to that. I guess this is where a good compact camera would come into play, but not having one, I was faced with just going bare and enjoying the wedding as a guest or showing up with my DSLR at my side and possibly looking like a crazy person.

For those that know me well enough—and to the protests of my dear wife—I obviously chose the route of showing up looking like a crazy person with my DSLR, my trio of prime lenses (28, 58, and 105), and a speedlight. Yeah, I know I'm not the wedding photographer and I certainly don't have any delusions of grandeur. I have absolutely no experience photographing events of any sort so I knew right off the bat that I didn't want to get in the way of the professionals that were doing their job. So why bring my camera? What was I trying to capture?

I decided that I wanted to just capture the wedding the way I experienced it. If only not to embarrass my wife, that meant that I would stay seated when everyone else was seated and get up when everyone else got up. I wasn't going to buzz around like a fly trying to get a good angle or lean into the aisles and draw the ire of the wedding photographers. While I will obviously share my photos with my friends who got married, I wanted to make my photography about my own memories as a guest attending the wedding.

I won't say that it was the most successful effort and my inexperience shooting live events in such spaces really showed. Even though I brought my flash, I forgot to bring my gels, which meant that my color temperatures were all screwed up and since I didn't want to be drawing too much attention to myself, I found myself keeping the flash inside my bag for the most part, which meant that I had to crank my ISO rather high. In the end, I converted the images to black and white to create a more natural looking result that I think offset these shortcomings, but the entire experience was one that I found valuable.

My hats off to the photographers that were shooting this wedding and wedding photographers everywhere. It was a pleasure to see them going through their paces completely unfazed by conditions that I personally found really daunting. I can't wait to see the photos that they created. I'm sure they will be far more polished than my own.

Congratulations to Sam and Kristine. You guys are both awesome and you made an absolutely beautiful couple. I wish you nothing but blessings and happiness in this new chapter in life that you are beginning together. Let's barbecue sometime. ^^

P.S. Thank you to my wife for putting up with walking around in public with a crazy man.