Getting the Quality Shot

When the question came, I did not realize how tricky it was at the time. I and another photographer were leading a workshop in Illinois’ Starved Rock State Park. The sandstone walls of Illinois Canyon enveloped us, and the forest floor was carpeted with Virginia bluebells. One of the participants had set up a great shot—a low-angle view of a cluster of bluebells in front of a tightly bunched stand of trees and mossy boulders with the muted tapestry of the sandstone cliff in the background.

“So, what sort of mental checklist do you go through before you take a shot?” she asked me.

It was a good question. We have all been so enamored by a shot that we invariably overlooked something minor. The result is a picture that is improperly exposed, the focus is off, or the depth of field brings in too much background and distracts the viewer from the main subject. I understood the reason for her question—she had a shot she really liked and she did not want to mess it up.

The simple ABC’s of any shot came immediately to mind: A) get the proper exposure, B) compose the shot, C) find the focus point and fire away. In all honesty, though, it is never that simple. Correct lens choice, depth of field, and compromising between what the equipment can do and what we want it to do all have their places in this mental checklist as well.

That simple question, however, really got me thinking. Long after we worked through her shot, it still nagged at the back of my mind. I continued going over the process of making any photograph, trying to boil it down to the essentials in a foolproof-step-by-step approach given the endless list of variables that introduced themselves into any photographic opportunity. I wracked my brain (and almost my head when I wandered into a low-hanging branch) for a logical sequence that anyone could use under any circumstance.

The answer was elusive. I kept coming back to a belief that photography is an expression of oneself, something very difficult to quantify in a logical flow-chart of steps. Perhaps even more dynamically, this personal expression is a collision of two very different ways of looking at the world.

In his book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig talks about two different kinds of understanding. Romantic understanding is intuition and emotions. It is the ideal image as we see it—the sudden gasp at a magnificent sunset or the tranquility evoked by a meandering mountain stream. On the contrary, classical understanding rests in logic and analysis. It is the understanding of f-stops, shutter speeds, and focal points. The trick for any artistic endeavor is to get the two different views to work together. That innocent question, “what mental checklist do you use,” really lives in the territory between these two ways of looking at the world. That was the entire point of Pirsig’s book: we need to learn to live in this intersection that he called Quality. At the heart of Quality was caring; and when you truly care about what you do, the end result is more sincere and genuine. Once I thought this through, I realized my checklist started long before I ever set up a shot.

In this union of emotion and logic, different people will have different tendencies and emphasize different steps, but a good checklist should encompass both realms. For the sake of illustration, here is mine.

1) I need to know my equipment. I must know how it works, its capabilities and its limitations. This undoubtedly influences what type of shots I will go after, how I will approach a scene, and what I can set up.

2) I need to put myself in the right frame of mind. I must be patient and observant. Rushing to find a shot or to make the shot will lead to mistakes more times that not. I constantly remind myself to take my time. Impetuousness is one of my greatest hurdles.

3) When I come upon a scene, I like to wander. I want to consider a scene from different perspectives before I ever set up the camera. When something catches my attention, I try to figure out why and work to capture that inspiration in the shot. Additionally, I may have a goal to photograph something specific, but I should always be ready for the unexpected opportunity.

4) When I have my shot set up, I check exposure, composition, and focus. I am aware of changing light, depth of field, and unwanted movement. I make compromises where needed, but I always remember what drew me to the shot in the first place.

5) I take notes, either during the hike or after. These help me remember a location, a future scene, nuances of the subject, and a myriad of technical specifications not captured in the file data.

6) After I have made my first shot, I rework the scene from another perspective. I exhaust the photographic possibilities, the capabilities of my equipment, or my inclination to take it further. This can become emotionally exhausting, so patience (as I said above) becomes even more important.

7) After I have worked a scene, I pause a moment before I move on to the next in order to push my reset button and be ready for the next opportunity with a clear mind.

When you go through your own checklist, tandem with every step, never forget to take the time simply to look. It sounds like a very Zen thing to do (and it is), but often we are so focused on getting “the shot” that we fail to notice new wonders right under our noses. Sometimes these may lead us to new photographic subjects, and sometimes they just remind us about the wonderful complexities of nature that we are trying to celebrate in the frame.