Mar
3
Vintage! This is a random post. The year was 2005...
Vancouver: Tucked between ocean and mountains.
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Walk in, cross the stage, and leave. 
We now go back to current chronological entries:
Jun
29
Part 3 of the rainbow evening shoot, here are my herons, photographed on the beach just across the street from home. I wasn’t the only one interested in the herons, as can be seen. They most likely nest in the huge rookery just a few blocks away on the edge of Stanley Park - guano smell and constant cacophony, if you ask me...
Jun
28
There is something to be said for living on the 15th floor of a Vancouver high rise. Beach Towers will have been a haven of peace and the most fantastic location I’ve ever lived in. In over two years spent in my 23 floor building, I’ve never had really inconsiderate neighbours. The premises are kept squeaky clean, 
the parking is hidden underground and newly repaved (ok, that was a bit of disturbance at times, but quite bearable.) The building managers were nice and the rental office staff, simply brilliant. How many people can say they walk in to see their landlord and are greeted with friendly smiles and a helpful attitude? When I explained I was leaving soon, I was simply told « How sad, we don’t want to lose you! » This coming from people who handle four towers - I believe that’s 600 apartments!
If I sound like I’m advertising, it’s because, well, I am. I honestly hope that someone will stumble upon my blog while searching for a place to stay and end up spending happy days here. I have nothing but praise for the Beach Towers and while I am aware that the experience might not necessarily be the same for everyone, I can’t remember ever finding a nicer, easier place to call home.
And then there’s the location. Last night when photographing the rainbow from my flat which faces east, I also leaned over to the northwest to get 
these shots of low languorous clouds clinging stubbornly to the slopes of the North Shore Mountains. Then I rushed out and simply crossed a street, and I was on the beach, interfacing with herons. I live at the end of a residential street lined with large trees and lots of flowers. Beyond my building is a park with a giant tree and a gazebo. Across the street, the Seawall launches in both directions, around Stanley Park towards Coal Harbour and Canada Place to the right, and back around False Creek bound for Kitsilano to the left.
Great gray herons are fishing by the shoreline and harbour seals surfacing a stone’s throw away. Within walking distance of here, in addition to seals and herons, I’ve seen bald eagles, river otters, raccoons, a beaver, swans, Canadian Geese, chickadees, jumpy squirrels, carps, cormorants, and I’ve so far missed the coyotes and hummingbirds. Sigh.
»
Jun
28
Earlier this afternoon, I called Marie on Skype. She answered a little out of breath, and untangling her earphones she said in an excited voice: « I was on the terrace. There is a 
beautiful rainbow! » Nice, I said, thinking that New York’s really got it all, mammatus clouds, rainbows and black cats.
Then later tonight, after the wind had picked up and blown hard bringing low grey clouds and rain, I caught a glimpse of orange light through my curtains and thought that maybe the sky was clearing a bit and allowing some sun to shine through 
before it sank beyond the world.
I got out on the balcony and my jaw dropped. Unknown to me, a perfect rainbow had formed to the east and was hitting the Shangri-La - highest tower in Vancouver - dead on. I rushed back in, grabbed both cameras and in my underwear, stood on the balcony and shot as fast as I could.
The sky was turning purple and windows were shining brightly in the evening’s first and last rays of sunshine. The rainbow seemed to be launching from within the Shangri-La in downtown and reached all the way to the other side of False Creek. At some point it even doubled up. Behind me towards the west, clouds lingered on the slopes above Howe Sound, fire within and shadows all around.
Later, the light seeming to last, I jumped in a pair of shorts and a sweater and ran out, tripod in one hand, camera in the other, a spare lens in my pocket and shoe laces untied. On the beach, I ran into two friendly herons. But that will be another post.
»
Jun
14
Leaving home a touch before sunset and only then heading towards Stanley Park was a smart move. Daylight was shifting slowly but steadily into a lower spectrum, yawning lazily while putting its night gown on. Afternoon 
heat had given way to a pleasant, perfumed evening gentleness. I found myself going against the human tide washing back to town, and on a Friday night, it was considerable. It was past nine o’clock and people would now be headed for their inebriating stations. Some had already reached them on a beach or a bench, judging by the loudness of their laughter and the complicated trajectory of their return to civilization.
A dozen police officers were strolling down English Bay Beach, chatting, eyes and ears awake but looking friendly and nonthreatening. I never see old cops in Vancouver. I wonder what happens to them past 30. They probably get recycled. In any case, Friday night on the beach sounds like a nice assignment.
The hot-dog man was at his ritual spot, selling long hot snacks dripping with multicolor condiments, their smell floating around and advertising silently for him. Just in front of his caboose, a street performer had taken position on the grass and was throwing his usual jokes at a gathering crowd through a squeaky microphone. Further towards the beach, someone was playing a music box. I paused for a moment, trying hard to put a finger on the familiarity of this scene. Then it all came back to me:
And the piano sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say « Man what are you doin’ here? »
Billy Joel - Piano Man
I pushed on towards Second Beach. The swimming pool had long closed down for the day and its surface reflected the sunset in a perfect mirror. I had intended to maybe go as far as Siwash Rock 
but as the glowing star began to dip behind the mountains on the horizon, I decided to settle down for a while and enjoy the show. The world shifted from « before » to « after » as a sailboat rolled softly at anchor, its mast repeatedly sweeping across the sun’s shrinking disk.
People stopped around me, some sat down on benches too and the air grew silent. There isn’t much else to do at sunset than stare and grasp a friendly hand very hard if one is available. Mine wasn’t, not just yet, but I could feel it nonetheless and found great comfort along with fleeting sadness as I reached over the continent and held her tight.
There is a strange, silent rule that seems to command most people to put their camera away once the sun has gone. It’s ironic because Abetoo only fully awakes at that time. Of course, a tripod becomes quintessential and most strollers don’t carry one. I walked a little longer, until I reached a place on the Seawall where I felt every second I wasted was a shot missed. There was 
a giant log stranded not far from shore and I elected it as my first willing subject.
Taking long exposures, using a 4x neutral density filter, low ISO and a high aperture number to compensate for the remaining light, I got a lot of time to look around me. People were passing by, curiously looking at my setup and clearly wondering what I was doing still out here while darkness crept in. One usually expects a photographer to peer endlessly through his viewfinder and the image of me nonchalantly standing next to my camera doing absolutely nothing will have made them ponder and maybe laugh.
As I pushed my exposures up to 4 minutes, I found that something was blurring my shots. There was no wind and the tripod could be assumed to be rather steady. It took me a while to realize that every time runners and bikers 
zoomed by a few feet away from me, they probably sent enough vibration through the asphalt to slightly shake the camera. I began to time my shots between human interference.
I had forgotten to bring my strong spotlight and with the night having for all practical purposes arrived, focusing on foreground subjects became increasingly tricky. My IS lenses aren’t parfocal and do not have a DOF scale, nor did I have my hyperfocal distance chart (I have since then printed it and will laminate it, scrogneugneu!), so everything became a guessing game. Silhouettes were floating next to me and I could see puzzled looks.
Eventually, when I could no longer focus accurately, I turned around and headed back home. Leaving the evening behind and having received so much from it in terms of beauty and peace, I felt a bit uneasy and worried that I had failed to reciprocate, to contribute.
So I do hope that these pictures - all of them shot in advanced darkness except for the 2 last - will compensate for my selfishness or even better, that they might make you decide to go for a walk around Stanley Park tonight, armed with a tripod, your camera and patience. And let the night do the talking.
Note: I titled this post « Reciprocity Failure » as a wink to the actual term and an intro to my last paragraph, but I should probably point out that it only technically applies to film, not digital photography.
However, I’ve noticed that a similar effect is felt digitally when reaching exposure durations beyond 30 seconds. For instance, if my meter fluctuates in Manual mode around 30 seconds, and a test shot at 30 secs seems only slightly underexposed (my camera’s speed dial goes from 30 secs to bulb), one would think doubling the exposure would be sufficient to achieve a correctly exposed image, hence exposing for 60 seconds. In practice, though, I’ve found that two or three additional f-stops are usually required to get a correct exposure, i.e. at least 120 seconds in this case. That to me sounds a lot like reciprocity failure minus the color shift...
Jun
3
I was recently invited to a tourism event at the Vancouver Art Gallery revolving around the presentation of summer exhibits. The star of the show, occupying the entire first floor, is called « Vermeer, Rembrandt and the Golden 
Age of Dutch Art ». It left me cold. I’ve never really liked Rembrandt and the paintings are too dark for my taste, even though a few were interesting from a lighting perspective (yes, I relate everything to photography...)
I was going to leave it at that and enjoy my sangria in the loud crowded lobby without tackling any of the remaining 3 floors when our host Joshua pointed out the photo exhibit on the third floor. « Andreas Gursky », he said, obviously expecting the lightning of revelation to strike me. It didn’t. I had never heard of the guy. « Do yourself a favor », Joshua added, « check him out. He does large scale photographs. » « Ok, » I decided, and finishing my glass, I climbed up to the third floor.
Boy am I glad I did. Gursky, a German artist, favours enormous images and is compiling what he calls an « encyclopedia of life ». There are a lot of aerial shots and although many of his photographs were actually presented in smaller versions for this exhibition - and for the first time it appears, not sure why - they remain captivating. The larger ones, a few meters long, are plain and simple fascinating. He shamelessly enhances his images digitally and achieves wonderful results without losing his documentary style.
His work isn’t for every one, I would say. But he excels at what he does and his art left me both humbled and motivated. The exhibit is well worth visiting if you are so inclined. Start with the third floor. If time and energy remain, you can still visit the rest. The paintings are so old, they surely can wait a little longer.
May
30
With summer knocking at our door once more, evening walks along English Bay become more frequent. A few nights ago, I’d brought the tripod but 
decided to play with my lens’ IS instead and these were all hand-held.
There are - and here I shall repeat myself shamelessly - very few places on Earth where the peace in the air is so tangible. With Stanley Park at my back and the bay stretching in front of me, a few sleeping giants at anchor offshore, sea birds flying by while a seal gently pokes its head up, people laughing softly all around, I am always struck by the simplicity of it all. And yet, how rare a city. How privileged a life. If only there was a recipe for such success, we could duplicate it at will around the globe.
But it seems Vancouver might just have been very, very lucky.
May
16
May
5
A few nights ago, after coming back from a run, I rushed back out with Abetoo hoping to get reacquainted. We hadn’t talked since coming back from South Africa, the G10 having temporarily taken over with her sexy portability.
That evening felt like spring at last, mild, calm, flowered and fragrant. Sunset came and went, not peaking much higher than 6 or 7 on 
Mother Nature’s Richter scale, and I fumbled to regain my old HDR habits - bracketing plus and minus 2 stops at constant aperture, exposing to the right, locking the mirror, using a remote, being patient.
My bloody tripod is a great source of aggravation these days. I unknowingly blurred my first 5 or 10 series of shots by having the flimsy telescopic part raised half way; with 20 and 30 second-long exposures, it doesn’t take much shake to ruin a shot.
Luckily, English Bay and the Pacific Ocean always make up for my mistakes. They tolerate my photographic mishaps with optimistic enthusiasm and they are the kind of models that systematically let you manage to turn out at least a couple of decent pictures per shoot. Thank you both. I owe you.
May
2
Up at 5:00 AM this morning, I put the Bialetti to good use and then headed out with a warm coffee in hand and a bagful of gear on my back, 2 cameras, the tripod and my new macro focusing rail shivering with excitement. Dawn, like water left running out of a rusty pipe, was finally 
turning clear. There was, however, no one out yet. Streets were literally empty and even runners and dog slaves were few.
I wound my way through the most flowery parts of Stanley Park’s outskirts, walking around Lost Lagoon towards Coal Harbour. Then a terrible thing happened. I saw my first two raccoons of the season, and a bit further a third one, agonizing on the path. The poor thing seemed quite old and apparently had just been mauled by a dog or hit by a bicycle. A park employee eventually picked it up but I’m afraid it won’t make it. I’d like to get my hand on the dog or the bicycle owner and teach them what mauling really means. Really.
I had a hard time finding what I was looking for in terms of macro subjects. There wasn’t much dew and spring flowers are not as interesting shape and 
texture-wise. Worse, the wind picked up very early, not too strong and definitely nowhere near the forecast 15 km/h - but a very slight breeze even if not visible in the trees, is enough to move flowers around and in the dim morning light, makes macro very tricky.
I had too keep my aperture in the mid-values - loosing precious depth of field - and the ISO high, and for that I knew I would have to pay with noise later. Sunrise had been nice but the sun soon vanished behind a high layer of clouds and while providing for a more diffuse lightning, this also made things darker. At first I had to use a flashlight to see anything at all in Live View mode and be able to focus. 
This was my first real field test of the focusing rail and I must say I adore it. It’s a cheap model ordered from China on eBay for a minimal cost but it still does an amazing job compared to my previous miserable attempts at focusing by tilting the tripod’s head and moving the entire bloody setup forward and backwards...
Macro photography, a relatively new domain for me, is incredibly time consuming but equally rewarding. I love the fact that when I thought I had seen everything around me, I can pause and look closer at a single flower and try to imagine what universe will appear once my lens is on it. And most of the time, I get it 
completely wrong, falling short of the mesmerizing reality.
In the end, most of my shots were blurry from the flowers moving slightly in the wind and the flimsiness of my tripod. I’ve still kept a few for the record and because even if not perfectly sharp, they are a nice example of the fantastic world that opens up under a macro lens. They were taken as before by mounting my regular EF-S 18-55 mm IS lens backwards with a simple coupling ring.
Sure, there’s a lot of practice needed on my part, but what a wonderful way to spend a morning...
Note: to give an idea of scale in the macro shots, I would say that the dew drops in the second picture, far smaller than regular raindrops, are about a quarter of a millimeter in actual size...
2009-05-02 18:36 • Posted in Photoblogs: & Photography: & Vancouver:
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Apr
28
Yup... And the brand new Convention Centre I was glorifying a few days ago just had a major ceiling water leak and subsequent flooding, three weeks form opening. Murphy’s Law in action, or just fatality and maths (as in large new building = large chance of mishaps early on)?
Hey, this is Vancouver; expect water to fall one way or another!
Here’s from a recent email of our industry friend Doug regarding tourism - or the lack thereof - in Vancouver:
Gulf War #1
Dot com bust
9/11
SARS
Gulf War #2
Wall Street Meltdown
Housing Meltdown
Winter from Hell
Cruiseships leaving*
Swine Flu
New Convention Centre leakingBring it on baby!
Keep Calm and Carry On.
* Note to foreigners: the cruise ships leaving issue is actually a very serious
one as some of the major cruise lines have elected not to come back to Vancouver
next year and divert to Seattle instead, which represents millions of
tourist-dollars gone south.
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