I put the camera back in the car and wait while I'm driving down the road to either find an indoor picture of simply go home.
1) I stand still, alert (also) to changes in light, subject, etc.
2) I consider changes to comp/movements/exposure, etc
3) I whistle/sing/talk to myself
4) I “take-in” my surrounding/explore nearby areas
5) I eat/drink/smoke something
6) I perform magic tricks to stop the wind
7) I enter my personal fantasy world
8) I get annoyed & lament my timing/fate
9) I read, or write, or take notes
10) Here’s what I do – check-out my post!
I put the camera back in the car and wait while I'm driving down the road to either find an indoor picture of simply go home.
Sometimes I curse & sometimes Implore the Almighty
"Great things are accomplished by talented people who believe they will
accomplish them."
Warren G. Bennis
www.gbphotoworks.com
I find that puffs of breeze accompany moving into and out of cloud shadow--a bit of convection from the change in air temperature that follows along with the cloud, perhaps.
I keep my eyes on the part of my subject that's my "tell" for wind. In the photo below, it was the longest of those tendrils hanging down. I waited a solid 15 minutes, thumb on cable release, watching that bit of dangling vine. I couldn't even feel the catspaws that would make it sway.
Rick "not usually that patient" Denney
Isn't that the truth
Same thing happens to me while waiting for the right light. It always appears when I have given up!
I usually stand there like a fool with my hand on the cable release and wait, and wait and wait and then I say Bleep it and take a nice shot of fuzzy weeds blowing in the wind.
erik
Its often difficult to avoid our prevailing winds, one just has to accept them and live with them. Adjusting the shutter sometimes helps. So does waiting. But, on the whole, I tend to prefer some indication of movement. I don't often find myself wanting photographs that appear completely static. When it comes to light I find that I'm a bit the same. I don't have a great fondness for dramatic `perfect' light, tending to prefer light that is a little flat, ordinary and soft. Its possible, though, that I'm just a little lazy, not wanting to be bothered with waiting for that critical `special' moment, content just to try to render what I want at any given point.
Kind regards,
Richard
I spent a year at a university on the Canterbury Plain -- I do remember the wind! Especially waking up to winds of up to 120mph (190km/hr) in the early morning hours of 1 August 1975. Lincoln College lost its stately monkey puzzle tree, much of their windbreaks, and the Canterbury Plains much of its forest plantations. By daylight it had calmed down to a steady 60 mph.
But here in the Redwoods, I have gotten fairly good at judging the wind-less days to go photograph. It is about a 50 mile drive to my favorite spots -- I can usually hit it right 2 out of 3 times -- that third time, I just enjoy being there and leave the camera in the car...or haul it with me for the exercise (and the chance of a still period). My exposures times are usually in the minutes.
Vaughn
I use Vaughan's method. Start packing up. The wind will die down as soon as you've packed up and are ready to move on. Then you quickly unpack before the wind realizes what you've done and make the photograph.
Brian Ellis
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you do criticize them you'll be
a mile away and you'll have their shoes.
I'm with Bruce on this one, though instead of tides, I think of the landscape as "breathing" and I wait for the pause between the breaths. Most often, the extra time is spent looking more closely at my surroundings. Though sometimes I just give in to the conditions and think of capturing motion rather than avoiding it.In NC where I live, I find that the winds act sort of like the tides on the coast. If you've watched waves, you've seen what I'm talking about -- how the waves are spaced, how every once in a while a couple of waves merge and you get a big one, etc. Wind is like that too -- you get gusts and lulls, some big gusts and some big lulls.
The "secret" is to be ready when the long lull hits and take advantage of it. That extra second is required to get the branches to damp out their motion and finally become still -- right before the next gust. If you aren't ready, you miss it. So you've got to stand there, with your hand on the cable release, and watch the scene. You'll know it when it occurs.
Thank you mr heroique.
I am too serious to be involved in lounge topics.
I have struggled with too much hot air since I had it, for two years.
And however I am not actively involved in creating usable prints or producing my own negatives, I still feel very much connected to the medium.
Patience? What is that?
Bookmarks