SOTC 131/365

For those of you who think I'm dangling precariously in the top branches of this tree, you're wrong. I love climbing trees, but my position is 10ft away on the lawn.

Gorilla pod + remote shooting app = awesome.

Cameras Don't Bounce

It was in my hands; then it was on the ground.

I couldn't even tell you exactly what happened, it was so quick. I had removed it from around my shoulders so that I could get a low-down shot of a pink-and-yellow tulip I particularly admired (a shot that never worked out, by the way). When I stood up--maybe I stepped on the edge of the dangling strap. Maybe someone else did. Maybe I bumped into something.

The next thing that registers in my brain is the simultaneous whack of camera against concrete, and the crunch of breaking glass. There is a split-second where a few people in the immediate area turn towards the noise, and join my friend and I as we, quite audibly, gasp. In the next split-second, the crowd has assessed the irrelevance of the event to their own lives, and has turned its attention back to previous affairs, while I have scooped the camera up off the ground and am moving to a less crowded area so I can assess the damage.

I turn the camera off and on; it still works. Miraculously--I don't remember doing this--the live-view screen has been folded inwards, so it is completely intact. I gently shake the camera back and forth. It seems there are no rattling pieces inside; a good sign.*

I inspect my 18-135mm IS lens. Certainly not my most expensive, but not my cheapest either. And currently my favourite. The UV filter I place on all my lenses to protect them is completely broken. I carefully remove the few broken bits of glass from around the edges. The metal ring that screws into the lens itself is bent, and therefore jammed. I cannot pry it off the lens, nor can I attach anything to it (other filters, the lens cap). The plastic rim of the lens is chipped in a couple small places. But as I twist the lens to zoom in, out, and take a couple test shots, it looks as if that may be the worst of it.

My camera works. The lens works. Neither are broken (nor likely even compromised, what with a little work once I get home to pry the ring off the lens).

"Oh, my God, thank You!" I literally shout towards the sky.

Suddenly, I am in awe of much more than the tulips I came for in the first place.

* that being said, some tiny part rattled around inside my old dSLR for years without compromising its function.

The iPhone's Story

When my mobile phone contract was up for renewal back in 2012, the phone itself was pretty much expired as well, so I decided to upgrade my little flip phone to a smartphone. As the iPhone 5 had just been released, I was able to get an iPhone 4 for free with a three-year contract.

In this convenience-driven, everything-is-disposable society, I find myself part of the ever-shrinking minority of people who still use items until they are worn out or broken beyond repair, rather than just throwing them away at the first chance to 'upgrade.' At the time of acquiring my iPhone, its predecessor was being held together in spots with scotch tape.

My iPhone still has a year left on its contract before I can upgrade to something newer without penalty. In the last two years, my iPhone's screen cover and protective plastic housing have proven their worth several times over. I am fairly diligent about taking good care of my electronics--phone included. Still, that doesn't mean my phone hasn't seen its share of bumps and bruises. Really, given the appearance of many of my friends' and colleagues phones, it is a wonder that all the buttons still work properly and that my screen isn't cracked. The protective plastic case has taken on some scratches around the edges as it has sacrificed itself to protect the phone. The corners of the fabric back side have frayed. The screen protector no longer seals around its edges lining the speaker and home button. And on a recent trip to the States for work, the screen protector managed to acquire hefty scratch marks from being jostled around while sharing very close quarters with a sharp object.

As I first noticed this most recent scratch, I thought to myself, looks like I'll be shopping for a new screen protector when I get home. But as the day went on, I continued to use my phone without issue, hardly even noticing that the scratched section was there, except when I ran my finger over the newly abrasive spot. A decent screen cover runs about $20. With only a year left before I upgrade, if the functionality of the phone has not been compromised, I started to wonder, is a new screen protector really necessary?

And cost aside, this war wound tells a story. When someone sees it and asks what happened to my phone, I can tell them that I was walking along the white-sand shores of the Gulf of Mexico with a couple of colleagues when we noticed a school of sting rays swimming in the waves close to the shore. I can tell them how I took out my phone--screen still scratch free--and captured a short video of their graceful movements. I can tell my listener about how we then continued to track the sting rays along the shore. How they didn't seem to be in any hurry to move back out to sea. How I decided in that moment to get my real camera, which was still in my bag under a beach chair further up the beach. I can tell them how I stuffed my phone into my shorts pocket and made the sprint of my life through the soft sand* to the bag and back. How I snapped the shutter over and over, half galloping along the beach to keep just ahead of the gliding group, while simultaneously trying to capture the lead ray's fin when it would occasionally cut through the water's surface.

I can tell them how, when I was finally, truly out of breath, I stood on the shore for just a moment longer to take in some ocean air and watch them swim and disappear under a large wave. How we returned to our beach chairs and started packing up then, cameras and phones put bag into bags, while the excitement still lingered, and infused with a new peace as the sun started making its descent over the ocean. How I rinsed my feet and legs under the on-site shower, as much to wash away the sand as to cool myself off--still hot as I was after my impromptu run. How it was only when we approached the car in the parking lot that I pulled out my phone once again, and noticed that it was now heavily scratched in one spot. How I still cannot tell you if the scratch was acquired while it was in the pocket of my shorts as I ran, or in the pocket of my bag as we made our return to the car. How I only know that it came as a result of just fully being in the place where I was; taking in the sun, the sand, the warmth, the life--and forgetting everything else in that moment, including the phone. How sometimes an experience is worth a few scratches.

Yes, each mark on my phone tells a story--grand or otherwise. And while there would still be a story if I replaced the screen protector... somehow, without that scratch... It just wouldn't be the same.

 *which is delightful to sink your feet into but something else entirely to try and run through.

SOTC 86/365

"When the snow reflects pink, you know it's going to be a good show."

Despite having west-facing windows, I can't actually see what the sky is doing in the evening unless I'm standing right in front of the glass. The windows are at just the right (wrong?) height that if I am standing back from them by any distance, all I see are the houses across the street and their front lawns.

I once almost missed a full technicolor sunset sky with double rainbow simply because I was sitting on the wrong couch.

Suffice it to say that if I glance out any window in my house and I notice that the ground is reflecting a pinkish hue, I've learned to stop whatever I'm doing, and get right up to the living room window to watch the sky as the sun goes down. Occasionally I am compelled to photograph the colors. With the recent warm temperatures, and still testing just what exactly my new camera is capable of, this was one of those evenings where simply standing at the window was not enough. I'm not even sure I zipped up my jacket as I burst through the front door. Down the stairs, across the street. Lean against the tree, and tip my head back towards the sky. Am I reflecting pink, too?

I HAD to Take This Shot--SOTC 38/365

Y'ever have one of those moments where you HAVE to take a photo of something? Where it's not even an option--any camera you have will work? That was me this morning.

My church service is held in a high school, and as I walked past the main gym...

Process to Perfection

I had a bit of an 'aha' moment today.

I have been reading up on the process involved in selling select photos to marketers and other such clients. The literature I've been perusing also tends to include tips and strategies for working on assignment. While I am not planning to make myself available for photography assignments in the near future, I have been reading anyway, for knowledge's sake.

I am looking at a sample picture in the article--a portrait of a runner. We see him from the back as he jogs down an empty country road towards the horizon. The article is talking about setting up the right model in the right location to get the desired image. I wonder how many times the photographer had him jog 100m, called him back, and made him jog again.

And then it hit me.

The photographer may have taken 50... 60... 100 shots of the athlete to get the one shot that makes the cut. And this process is not unfamiliar to me. I've done it lots.

Thing is, I sometimes feel a twinge of... dissatisfaction when this happens. Sometimes, when it takes me several attempts to get a picture just the way I want it, I'm hard on myself. It's not like the flower was going somewhere, why didn't you just take more time to get everything set up properly? You know about leading lines, why didn't you use them from the beginning? Why did you ever think a wide angle would work for this shot?

I consider my efforts, and conclude that--while I'm a good photographer--I would be a great photographer if I could visualize that perfect shot faster, if I could see more creatively, if I knew exactly what settings I needed for the light available, etc.

Most of the time, I remember that it is all part of the process. I am learning from all this. And that ten different shots doesn't mean one great and nine awful. It means ten different shots.

But in the weak moments, I wonder if I'm gaining any skill at all, because again it's taken me so many shots to get the one I wanted.

And then I saw the runner.

I wonder how many times the photographer had him jog 100m, called him back, and made him jog again.

I did not think this negatively, but more in awe of the process. It made me think of movies, and how directors will ask actors to do a scene many times over, and then choose the best one when putting the film together at the end. And the take he chooses may not even be the one that's most technically "correct." Perhaps that one take where the actor had to improv a bit, because he briefly forgot his line, turned out to be the most natural-looking interaction, and helps the scene flow seamlessly into the next. Ten different takes doesn't mean one great and nine awful. It means ten different takes.

There is purpose in this process; it adds to the final product; and as a viewer, I can't tell how many times that scene was shot. I just sit, and take in the beauty of the art before me.

Occasionally, I do get something great on the very first try. But I think I've just had a good reminder that this really is the exception to the rule. I think I have given myself a little more permission to be okay with calling the runner back, and making him jog down the road again.

Hands That Flung Stars Into Space?

I am often floored by God's creation. I stand at the edge of my garden in the spring, watching tulip buds poke their way through the ground--again!--after a long, winter sleep. I stand at the edge of the ocean, listening to the undulating crash against the shore. I stand at the summit of a mountain, the rocky view going on forever. And I am filled with words of praise like 'awesome', 'peaceful', 'glorious', 'lovely', 'expansive', 'refreshing', 'humbling'. Words that try to--but still don't quite--speak to the superlative nature of the Creator and the fact that he has chosen to bless my senses.

Such is the same when I find myself outside of the city, looking up at the night sky. There are SO many stars! Some are so far away that they have already burned up by the time the light has traveled far enough that I can see them. And yet, I see them. The sky is so vast, and the stars are so many. I feel like such a small part of the universe; and yet, not in a bad way. More like, I am a very small part of this universe, but obviously an important part if God chose to create me amongst the whole of His creation around me. The whole thing just blows the mind.

Last night, I had my first opportunity to see and photograph a meteor shower. The Perseid Meteor Shower is an annual event, though this is the first I recall hearing of it (or perhaps I've just never been in a position to check it out, so I've never paid attention).

I drove out to the quiet of the Cooking Lake-Blackfoot Provincial Recreation Area, about 45 minutes east of the city. There were a few other star-gazers watching from the hoods of their cars in the gravel parking lot, and one couple who had set up camping chairs about 15 feet from where I set up my camera in the adjacent field space.


While I only managed to capture three meteors across my camera sensor, I saw at least a dozen in the three hours I was there.* Short and long bursts of high-speed light, moving every direction across the sky. And we have been given this light show every year for the last 2,000 years.

Sitting under the infinite sparkle of the sky, I was reminded of something I read years ago. In her book Believing God, Beth Moore talks about God's simultaneous ability for order and creativity. She says,

G.K. Chesterton wrote of a God who "is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, 'Do it again' to the sun; and every evening, 'Do it again' to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old." 

Ours is a God who delights in a perfect concoction of creativity and order. Though He could have thought out the entire cosmos into existence in a millisecond, instead He brought it about with great patience in six distinct increments. 

Then rested on the seventh. 

Then later insisted that His children do the same. 

God likes order. He likes repetition. A God of fundamentals, He brings up the sun every morning and the moon every evening, but His creativity within that order is gorgeously displayed in the changing sunsets and sunrises surrounding them.

In reflecting upon this--the repetitive nature of this astronomical event, as well as just the multitude of stars above me--I found myself curious. I found myself wondering: when God was creating the stars, did He place them around the universe one by one, setting each one just so? Or did He hold them like a handful of sand and toss them out all at once?

I'm not sure why that--of all the possible ponderings I could possibly have during an evening of star-gazing--was the question I had, but it was.

And the answer was, I don't know.

And I'm okay that it's I don't know. (I'll find out one day!)

What I KNOW--and am so blessed to know--is that there is an amazing Artist, who can create a million of the same thing, and yet have each one be unique. Who plays with the entire colour spectrum--sometimes one colour at a time, and sometimes all at once. Who bends and moves light. Who blesses the senses.

And all we have to do is sit, take it in, and know.



* That may not seem like many, but think about it--how often do you see even ONE shooting star? Exactly.

So What Next?

I have thoroughly enjoyed the last year of putting together my 365 project. Over the course of the year, I have also taken time to peruse the projects of others--to see what challenge they've set for themselves, and the creativity that has come out of that.

Even before my project had ended, I was already thinking of 'what next?' Will I do another project? What will be the theme/challenge/goal? The answer to the first question was an unequivocal YES! I enjoy the way my first project stretched my photography skills just that extra bit. And despite the occasional days where the last thing I wanted to do was set up a shot, I had a ton of fun creating so many different portraits.

So, what to shoot, what to shoot... In thinking about the next project, I wanted to make sure I would still be challenging and honing my photographic skills. I wanted it to be qualitatively different than the first project. And I still wanted to make sure it would be fun.

Two ideas came to mind.

1. Shoot in film.
2. No digital post-processing.

I REALLY like the first idea. I occasionally play with film, but not nearly enough. It would really test my skills as a photographer, because the instant feedback of the LCD display would not be there. I really would have to get it right the first time.

That being said, the practicality and price point of shooting film all year would be insane. The cost of film and printing the photos would probably be about $150-200, if I only took one shot per day. Not so bad over the course of a year, I guess, but the digital is absolutely free. I feel the real hassle actually comes in the publishing. While you can get your film images scanned and burned onto a CD when you get them printed, that costs even more, so of course, I would opt to scan and upload each of these photos myself. Which means I'd have to scan and upload chunks of 24-27 pictures at a time. ...Well, I guess I wouldn't have to scan the whole roll's worth at once; still, I would never be posting current material. I just have the sense--based on how I managed to upload my content with the last project--that I would take photos for a year, but spend the next six months after that finishing up the scanning. That doesn't sound fun. Perhaps as a Project 52 idea down the road....

So, then idea #2 came to mind. I could still take digital images as if I were shooting film. That is, I would not post-process my photos in any way, with any software. There are people already challenging themselves this way on Flickr and other photography sites. The "technique" is being called Straight off the Camera (or Straight Out of the Camera); SOTC (or SOOC) for short.

Yes, but, you could still alter it in Photoshop and just say it's SOTC.

Well, first of all, I don't work like that. I value honesty and integrity. Second, technology has advanced far enough to hold me accountable. For those unfamiliar with the ways of digital media, digital photographs have something called EXIF data. This data includes the time stamp, info on the lens used, shutter speed, ISO, etc. But EXIF data will also tell you if the photo has been post-processed with any sort of software.

Compared to many digital artists, I don't use Photoshop a whole heck of a lot. Generally, if I'm editing an image, I'm doing fairly simple things like brightening it up a little, boosting the saturation, straightening out a horizon, lightening up dark shadows. Not generally altering the composition significantly. Still, these are all things that--with a little more attention or patience--I could do in-camera.

So. I have a challenge.
A photo a day for an entire year.
Any subject.
I must take the photograph.
No post-processing allowed.

Straight off the camera.

Starts September 1.

A Project Complete OR 365/365

Wow! A whole year has come and gone; my 365 photography project is complete! The original goal of this project was simply to give myself a reasonable challenge doing something I enjoy; and enhance my overall skills as a result. Of course, I have learned so much more than what I originally set out to achieve—and I don’t just mean in photography skills. I have learned new technical skills, for sure, but I've also learned a lot about how I feel towards certain processes in photography. And I have also learned quite a bit about myself.

For example, I quickly learned that I do NOT like taking my photo in the first hour between when I wake up and when I leave the house in the morning. I’m just NOT a morning person, and it shows. There were a couple exceptions to this—they usually involved pictures of me in bed, and thus my eyes were closed or I had slept in and didn’t look like I’d just been jarred into consciousness for the day.

I also learned that the iPhone begets laziness! I only acquired my iPhone in April--I was already 244 days into the project. That being said, the ratio of mobile phone images to camera images is much higher in the days after acquiring my iPhone than in the 244 days preceding it. In many instances, the iPhone takes fairly good photos. Pair that with not wanting to pack a camera around some days, or the ease of file transfer via iCloud, and you've got a simple way out of having to set up a dSLR shot. Oh, technology!

In 365 days, I only missed taking my picture three times (oops, oops, and huh?). Nevertheless, between a leap year bonus day, and a perfect summer Saturday where I posted two extra pictures, I’ve still ended up with the original goal of 365. I have to tell you, though, some days, this project was really quite challenging! It is easy to take photos of special events, or regular events in special places. But slogging through the fall and winter often left me sighing in apathy or exasperation at the end of the day, wondering what on earth was exciting enough to warrant a photograph.

75% of my photos were self-taken (i.e. I hand-held the camera myself, or put it onto a tripod and used a timer/remote). And I have to tell ya, it takes a lot of UN-natural to get natural-looking poses. I took anywhere from 2-20 shots each day. Occasionally even more. Sometimes, it was just because I needed to position myself slightly differently in front of the camera. I often tweaked my original vision. Occasionally, I changed my vision entirely. (On the plus side, I found myself Photoshopping less.) Only very occasionally did I get the shot in just one take.

Thankfully, 22% of my photos were taken by friends and acquaintances, which provided some images that were a little more true-to-the-moment. My friends are so gracious. I cannot even count the number of times I would get together with friends for the evening, and announce, “at some point, I need someone to take my picture.” Only one or two of my friends were comfortable enough with my camera to 'fire at will', so to speak. Often times, if I was handing my camera to a friend, I got the sense that they wanted to take two or three shots, and give the scary black box back to me as quickly as possible. I learned over time that people were more willing to take the picture when they could use cameras they were familiar and comfortable with (I know, it seems obvious, doesn't it).

And yes, several photos were taken by complete strangers. They generally didn’t turn out to be the greatest composition, but hey, they’re authentic!

Most (93%) of my photos were taken using my own cameras. This included my dSLR, my compact digital camera, my Polaroid, my mobile phone cameras, and Macbook webcam. Oh, and my scanner. The remaining 7% were obviously taken using other people’s cameras—the office camera or those of friends. …Or the studio at Victoria's Secret.

71% of my photos were taken indoors, and 28% outdoors. This is about in line with the percentage of the year we spend in winter vs. summer. Hmm…

Only a mere 15% of my photos purposely included other people. I really am an introvert.

These stats are interesting.

And yet, despite taking 365 different photos, I sill notice patterns throughout, clearly indicative of my particular ‘style’ (whatever that is). For example, I really like to focus right in on my main subject, using a shallow depth-of-field to blur out the rest of the image. I love that effect. Also, if only a part of me was in the photo, it tended to be my hands more often than any other part. Finally, I really just don’t care to get overly artistic with my photos. I had fun with a few different camera techniques or Photoshop tricks, but outside of those, I really just like to capture life as it is. I always knew this--that I tend to keep my photography pretty realistic--but I think I’ve come to know it even more through this project. For example, I tried to put together one very conceptual shot, and I have to admit, I don’t really like it. I’m just not that right-brained enough to do a good job of it. Which I’ve come to accept is okay—I don’t need to be that photographer. There are plenty of those individuals out there already. I need to be me, and take the photos my brain was designed to take.

I have had a lot of fun with this project--even on those dreary winter days! Aside from being yet another way to visually chronicle daily events over time, it has made for great conversation, worthwhile skill enhancement, and inspiration for future photography projects (oh yes, there will be more!).

A hearty thanks to those who participated in and supported my project by taking pictures, being in pictures, or simply by following along on the blog. It has made the whole process that much more fun and memorable.

Harvest to Harvest; done and done!

326/365

Upon reflection...

277/365

Setting up for a fundraising photo shoot. 

We needed a child to test model, but she wasn't about to let us take pictures with our cameras unless she got a camera, too.

251/365

"Can I take a picture?"

237/365

There's pretty much no place my camera can't go.

It's the Little Things OR 221/365

What was lost has once again been found. I could kiss this little black box.

At roughly two inches long, this little electronic has been a huge asset to my photography--both in and outside of my 365 project. It is the remote control for my camera. It allows me to both focus and shoot from up to fifteen feet away. It has an optional 2-second delay, meaning that I can aim it at the camera and still have enough time to drop my hand before the shutter fires. It is responsible for the great self-shots here, here, here, here, and here, JUST to name a few.

It has been a saving grace when even the slightest camera shake is detrimental--allowing me to take photos without having to touch the camera at all. Like here, here, and here.

Needless to say, when it went missing earlier this week, I was annoyed, frustrated, and disappointed all at the same time. The look on my face as I expressed my initial concern was the tipping point between "seriously..." and "seriously?!"

I had been using it all afternoon last Saturday to take photos of old-fashioned cars at the Reynold's Alberta Museum in Wetaskiwin. In between photos, I was consistently putting it into the pocket of my hoodie for safe-keeping. That evening, I stopped to see my kidlets at their grandparents' place where they were staying for the weekend. It was a satisfying Saturday all around.

When I went to take my blog pic the next day, I noticed the remote wasn't around, but didn't think much of it. Probably still in my hoodie pocket. But I didn't really need it for the photo, so I didn't check. The next day, I did want it for my photo, so I checked the pockets of my hoodie. Not there. Hmm... Checked the pocket of the jeans I'd been wearing. Not there, either. Hmmmmmm... Well, I probably tucked it in a "safe place" as I was leaving the museum--so safe I can't remember where (you know you've done it, too). The remote would have been nice, but still not entirely necessary for the photo at hand, so I called off the search for that evening.

The following day, I was rocking a super-cute outfit, and wanted to capture it on film (on pixel?). I tried to take the shot a few times without a remote--substituting in brooms to serve as the focal point while I was pressing the buttons at the camera. But it just. wasn't. working. So, after I took my hand-held photo of frustration instead, I resumed the search. Every pocket of everything I'd worn that day, and all the bags I'd carried. I even emptied the laundry basket in case it had fallen out of the pocket into the greater realm of crumpled clothing. Nothing. All signs indicated that the remote probably fell out on the floor or parking lot of the museum. Great.

Unless........

Could it have fallen out at the grandparents' house? Maybe? As I set down my coat and bags in the front entry? ...Well, worth calling grandma first before I called Wetaskiwin.

Sure enough, it had been found at the house some time after I'd gone. During the conversation, grandma informed me that they'd found it in the living room.

The living room? How would it have gotten over there?

And then I remembered.

I may have put my relatively big hoodie on my relatively tiny nephew and tied the arms around him like a straight jacket. And then tickled him silly on the floor as he tried to escape.

Apparently, remotes can fall out of pockets that way. Who knew?

163/365

Amongst the fun--built-in webcam. :)

122/365

"Portrait lens, I missed you!"

94/365

Nothing says 80's like Polaroid. I had four exposures left in the camera. Now I have none. :)

85/365

I'd say today was a waste of film, but that would be technologically inaccurate.

Today was a waste of photographic effort.

Returning home from respite, I noticed a soft green glow in the sky; northern lights. Despite being the end of a long work day, I decided to be spontaneous. After scarfing down some supper, I would get my gear and my warm clothes on, and venture outside of the city to see if I could capture some northern lights in my camera.

I should have just foregone the whole thing when I opened my trunk to realize that I'd left my camera bag (with camera) at work. No, I can still do this, I thought. Traffic wouldn't be too bad so late in the evening; I would just get the camera from the office and head north from there, looping back towards my end of the city as I went.

Hoody, jacket, windbreaker pants, comfy shoes, tripod, flash light, head lamp. Gas for the car and hot tea for me. Go.

Half an hour of driving. Followed by just over forty-five minutes of mostly sitting in my car and reading while I let the shutter trip open on my camera for five-to-ten minutes per shot. I was mildly mesmerized by the gentle ripple of the lights in the sky, but not so mesmerized by any of the five shots that came out of my stakeout. (No, I'm not posting any of them. Given the nature of the subject, I'd say the photos are nothing more than average. And I feel that aurora borealis photos fall into the category of "go big or go home." Like lightning.)

Trying to capture an image of myself in the process was not all that satisfying, either.

This was the best shot I had patience for by the time I got to it (clearly "go big or go home" does not apply to self-portraits). I have to admit, though, there is an artistic quality to the way this came out. A girl and her tea, soft light and a book (you can't see it, but that's what I'm looking at), waiting on her camera at the end of a long day.

It Still Looks Like Me, But...

I am usually only do very basic editing in Photoshop. Red-eye. Cropping. Brightness. Contrast. I feel that these are justifiable post-processing techniques. As much as I try to set up a great shot in-camera, sometimes it still just doesn't come out the way it's s'posed to, and the moment would be gone if I kept trying to change the settings on my camera in-the-moment. I'll even go so far as to clone out pimples, scratches, that little bit of cookie that I forgot to wipe off my nephew's mouth before I took the shot (granted, sometimes it's that bit of cookie that makes the shot!). I'm a very primitive Photoshop user. Beyond basic post-processing, I kinda feel like it's cheating to alter too much content.

But every now and then, I like to have fun. I get a bit artsy. Or a bit silly. I play around with photos. I often experiment with lighting and lens functions and what-not by taking self-portraits. Sometimes I keep even the less-than-stellar shots cuz I figure they might come in handy for something at some point. Yesterday, I took one of the plainer ones, and decided to Photoshop it big time. And it's still a far cry from the Photoshopping that professionals do to Supermodels and celebrities.

Take a look at the image below--the before and after. See if you can count how many changes I made to it in Photoshop. Then compare with the list below.

• Got rid of the circles under my eyes.
• Made my irises just a LITTLE bit fuller.
• Gave myself eye shadow.
• Gave myself just a bit of eyeliner.
• Removed a couple small pimples and skin marks.
  
• Gave myself blush.
• Plumped my bottom lip just a bit.
• Gave my lips a hint of colour.
  
• Gave my skin the basest of tans.
• Gave my hair some mild colour/shine.
• Tucked in the right side (your left) of my jawline to make it more symmetrical with the left (your right).

Subtle... and yet... (and just think of all the things I didn't do!)

Accessorizing

I am going on a two-week mission in May to Haiti (!), and of course, I want to be able to take my DSLR down with me. I will take the compact, too, but I can't go down to Haiti and not take my DSLR. That being said, I live in Alberta. Which is a prairie province. A dry prairie province. Haiti is not so dry. In fact, it will probably be the most humid country I've travelled to thus far. So humid that after the first year people from our church went down, they nixed the crafts with the kids because the glue didn't work, the tape didn't work, and in some cases, even cutting didn't work all that well. It's that humid. I knew this wouldn't be good for my camera.

High humidity can damage electronics (in the case of film cameras, did you know that mold can grow on film?). So what's a shutterbug to do? ...Order a waterproof case, that's what she does!

I went to a scuba website (http://www.primescuba.com) and ordered the DiCaPac SLR Waterproof Case. I picked it up from UPS today! The manual said to test its quality by placing paper towel or a similar item into the case, seal it up, and get the thing wet. Obviously, if there's a leak somewhere, it's good to know right off the bat. I put three kleenexes into the case, sprayed it down in the kitchen sink, and the kleenex is still dry. ...There's a possibility I'm going swimming with my respite family tomorrow... I might get adventurous...