Three Circles, One Photographer

Photo Prose

By Gary Rabenko

Sometimes everything is going right—but no one knows it!

Here I am in the center of the women’s dancing, covering all three circles. The bride’s friends are bringing all kinds of shtick, and each of the mothers is dancing with a friend, switching off every 10 or 15 seconds. Every other dance partner stops for a posed picture—which can take longer to get than a good shot of them in action. Everything is going well; I am in a rhythm which has me covering all three circles and returning to the first circle just in time to find the bride’s mother stopping to pose with another friend. Picture made, and I am off once again to focus on the bride with her energetic classmate, when someone yells up at me from below my ladder.

Maybe it was her voice, her frantic rapping on the ladder, or her wild gestures. But she got my attention.

Now, reader, I have been describing how I am covering all three circles, from within their midst, on a ladder. It is not some shrimpy-wimpy ladder most photographers use, but a higher ladder that has its risks. You read about the seconds involved and the timing. Perhaps I need to further explain that each circle is at a different relationship to my remote lights and could easily require different camera settings, as I pivot about to get the various circles. As team leader, I am also coordinating the video and noting what formation the men’s side is in and how the crew is doing. Batteries die, remote controls stop controlling, power supplies fail, cords get disconnected, and light stands get bumped, moved, rolled, turned, and sometimes toppled. Assistants meant to watch some of those situations need watching themselves!

So this lady has now decided to do something noble, selfless, and important—get the photographer’s attention to point out something vital that just cannot wait.

Well if it could wait, how long would the wait be? From the opening paragraphs, it seems it would be a five-to-ten-second situation. Getting my attention is no guarantee I can get the shot. She is now a fourth scene in my midst (not counting my crew) that needs my eye. She might well have a valid news alert. Seventy-five degrees to my right I am monitoring a potentially important shot—maybe very important. But her getting my attention is only the first step to redirect my attention to what she is pointing at, or will start pointing at, once I am on the way to looking, until which time she is rattling my cage—er, all the more dangerous, she is rattling my ladder!

That is a very unsafe action in any case, but as it turns out she has just done that to get my attention regarding a special friend dancing with the mother. Had she been watching me continuously in recent moments, she would have seen me getting the shot when it first began—two shots, in fact, before moving on to my current focus. Now she pulled me away from circle one to redirect me to circle three, as I note I am missing circle one’s anticipated key moment and about to miss circle two’s important developing action. What should I do?

Taking the shot she urgently implores requires dwelling a few seconds on what she obviously thinks is the only important thing currently, but which will only be fully visible in three seconds, leaving me likely to miss both other circles’ activities. Taking a rapid-fire shot and going back to my work smacks of impudence and seeming irritation, just to humor her. I have done that at times, only to feel more intense ladder-rattling or frantic waving by others who think I do not realize the great import of the shot and was not really serious in the first shot.

Taking the few seconds to actually get a good shot at best gives me a duplicate of what I already have—likely not as good—and surely leaves me missing at least one, if not both, of the other circles. Ignoring her leads to greater persistence and desperation on her part as she further tries to get my attention in a dangerous way, or just adds me to her list of “Do Not Call” studios, when I am trying to get more meaningful shots per minute than anyone else would.

My nod or OK gesture to her does little good, as she can’t know I got the shot before, and will think ill of me or intensify her efforts to get my attention. Most importantly, my attempt to communicate with her, either in the affirmative OK, or with some other attempted assurance, will just frustrate her, as she thinks I missed what she was trying to say.

Maybe I had not gotten the shot and her alert could be a good thing. But does she know what my other potential shots were? Does she know what I am missing that others will want—perhaps even the ba’al simcha, who will later complain that a shot was missed due to this interruption. Then what?

The most important shot is always the one the photographer missed. You can have incredible photos, but it is human nature to complain about the missing. Fewer shots are missed by the better photographers when they are allowed to follow a rhythm and maintain concentration without the additional interruptions (done with the best of intentions, no doubt). On the other hand, sometimes a photographer may already be covering the action, unsure if more shots are needed or if the interruption is important. Your focused enthusiasm then could make a difference in the amount of coverage—the time the photographer stays on that scene. Unless at just the peak moment, a well-meaning distracter from another circle interrupts!

This article appeared originally in The 5 Towns Jewish Times    http://5tjt.com/

Having it your way: Food for Thoughts

Photo Prose

by Gary Rabenko

I must admit, I am not happy with the title of this article.  But the issue is not the title.  The issue is food.  My food. The food I put in my body.   Is it my right to expect that when I order matzah ball soup, in a place with exquisitely delectable matzah balls and delicious broth, that both the broth and the ball be hot.   That is how it was.   Recently, the balls are cold.  Or tepid.  Certainly not hot.  I like them hot!  I ask for them to be hot. I point out to the one of several waitresses that they are always cold.  Make sure they are hot, like they used to be.

They arrive cold!

Bagels, bialys, buns, and rolls.  They are perfect –waiting and ready for my sandwich.  First thing I explain – most important: Do NOT cut the sandwich.   You got that?  Sure, what you want on it?  It doesn’t matter – tuna fish, salmon spread, lox, egg and cheese.  Whatever is freshest.   Just don’t cut the sandwich.  OK. No problem.    So I pay, take my lunch over to a table, start reading the paper, and next thing I know, half the sandwich has fallen from my grasp, severed as it had been by the clowns behind the counter.   What part of do not cut did they not understand???

I was visiting my friend on her birthday.  The beautiful warm weather had us stop for lunch on the avenue.  We go back a long way, and she knows my tastes to a T.   So she went inside to order.  I alone occupied a sole solitary table outside and an equal number of customers she reported were inside.   Three burly twenty-somethings, arrived shortly.   They sat at the table to my left, having probably just come from a three-hour gym workout.   Someone took their order and soon they were eating.   Laura and I waited.   Finally someone came out to find out which was our order.   Which was our order?!?   They only had three customers!   Yes, we were the ones who wanted the burger made on the flatbed, not the grill, and wanted it on an unheated bun.  Well that is how I wanted it.   They advertised, custom burgers, and that is how I wanted mine.   Is that so bad?  Do I have a right to expect what I ask for?

The bun was scorched!  More significantly, so was the burger.   It had lines like from a grill.   A young pleasant enough but clueless chap came out to determine the problem.  Oh, I am sorry, he said, that is how we make the burgers; on the grill.  But we asked, and were told specifically that it would be no problem.   Well that was wrong information.  The owner does not allow it.   So what am I supposed to do now?  We’d been waiting half an hour.  The bun was toasted and the burger charred.

I am writing this, because one of the three guys to my left, hearing me ask incredulously why I would want to eat, or be expected to eat burnt food, chimed in, with the strongest of attitudes.  He said I was rude.   Rude?  Are you kidding me?  The place had no customers.  I had been waiting for half an hour.   They lost my order.  Then filled it wrong.  Most importantly, they managed to miss or ignore, the prime directive.   Look, it is very simple.   I have a right to control what I put in my body.  I also should be able to expect simple agreements to be adhered to.   Laura specifically asked if they can make the burgers on the flat bed… you know the one that eggs are made on…one continuous panel.   Not the bars that singe and scorch.   Yes, I understand that some people like the fat to drip down.  Some people like that just so perfect burned, barbequed, or fired flavor.  But not me.  To me, those lines, are bitter. They taste bitter.  I do not eat bitter, except on Pesach.   I like the burger stewed on the grill, until it is nicely golden brown inside and out.   Should I be ridiculed for my taste?   I cannot be wrong.  It is my body.  And I am the customer.

I asked, they said OK, and then only after keeping me waiting with anticipation and baited breath, and delivering foul-flavored foods, did I find out that while they do have a grill, the owner has specific instructions, not to use the grill.   So Laura went in to get a refund, and my friendly neighbors, said I disgusted them – was I a food critic they asked?    Well, yes. I know what I like, and what I want to eat.

It turns out the custom burger place can use the flat bed.  But the owner wants to discourage just how custom the various products are and so he has “strict” orders, not to use it for burgers.  He uses it for steaks!

An artist has to have opinions.  Hopefully they are opinions based on good judgment. Everyone has judgment, but only some have good judgment.  My better judgment keeps me from smoking, or drinking.  It also leads me away from molecules of burnt meat coinciding with the black lines from the grill.

Is it more rude to complain and bristle with impatience over a ruined lunch, than it is to deceive me into believing that my food would be prepared as agreed and then fail?  Perhaps the article should be titled Chutzpah: False Foods.

Not Black Or White, But Mostly Gray

The 5TJT has many interesting columns about a variety of things.

I frequently have enjoyed Hannah Reich Berman’s column, “That’s The Way It Is.” With a knack for speaking from the heart and on point, she usually makes interesting and valuable observations. Sometimes we disagree. Five years ago, two articles involved an odd subject for this paper.

I had the pleasure of photographing her daughter’s family of cute, sensitive, and affectionate children, who really loved my stuffed dog and were fascinated by my squirrel photos. Later, reading Hannah’s articles on squirrels, I understood why they had said I should speak to her.

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Bad Advice

I’ve never seen advice articles that give good advice at the truly sophisticated level. Either they stress real basics, or they make recommendations which do not apply to a truly skilled artist doing great photography, and which would prevent an upcoming one from succeeding. Editorials and advice articles are contributed by editors and writers who do not have first hand experience doing great photography. Worse, they often consider themselves to be photographers, because rather than contract great photographers, they are able to “take pictures” to satisfy their photo-journalistic needs, and so … feel that they are photographers, when all they are producing are snapshots.

How do these writers research the topic? In the obvious way. They contact and interview a bunch of photographers, usually those most readily found, and then rely on the consensus to be the best advice. So for example, if seven out of eight photographers recommend giving the photographer a shot list of the portrait combinations desired, and one strongly opposes that idea, the writer will come to the conclusion that the right advice is to give the photographer the list.

Gary Rabenko may be reached at gary@rabenko.com. Rabenko Photography & Video Artists is located at 1001 Broadway in Woodmere.

Photojournalism or Good Photography?

Expression emotion and feeling are ultimately what is needed in imagery. It is the responsibility of a photographer to be more than just a button pusher, to use the science and art of photography in a way that strengthens an image’s impact and makes it much more effective than if taken by a surveillance camera, or a snap shooter who just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

The photo-journalistic style of photography in my opinion has become popular for the wrong reason. It is easy to say that I use a photojournalistic style. At first glance it might seem so, and it is always used as a complement so that is ok. But most photojournalists know little photography. They do not try to do imagery that is flattering, or even to use light in an artistic way. They behave like hunters to grab a record and make an imprint of a moment in time. That is photojournalism.
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