Time...

Now that British Summer Time (daylight saving for the rest of the world - where it applies) has come to an end it is so much more convenient to get good light at a reasonable time of day. During the summer months I have to be out of bed in the middle of the night, or shooting well into the evening to get the best of the day, but at this time of year it is far more civilised.

It is a bright, crisp, autumn day, and I feel a bike ride is in order. I have somewhat neglected two wheels during the past few months in favour of walking, so I check the tide times for Poole harbour; note a late afternoon low tide, and wheel-out the mountain bike.

The tide is well on its way out when I arrive during mid afternoon, and a watery sun promises to deliver the goods, but I am not inspired for a location. I have a number of shots of red skies reflected in tide pools, but I am after something different this time. I eventually settle for the jetty of the East Dorset Sailing Club for a bit of variation; position myself accordingly, and wait for nature to do her stuff. Known as the Golden Hour by photographers, that last hour (or the first - it depends which way you look at it) of the day can often produce the most stunning light, but it is beginning to get cold where I am standing. Once the sun disappears from view the temperature drops noticeably, and since I had a number of shots in the can I pack up and head home, rather than wait to see if there is an afterglow. Time to dig out those thermals!


24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/400 second at f/8. ISO 200. Monopod


© 2012

Milly moon...

It has been about a year since I first discussed techniques with my friend Nic about photographing the moon (Milly, as she calls it), and the pitfalls that inexperienced photographers fall into when attempting it for the first (and often subsequent) times. In the days of film; and especially with reversal (transparency) emulsions, the photographer had to make the decision to either keep cloud detail and sacrifice the lunar features, or expose for the bright disc in the sky and lose everything else. Of course, not all moon shots need cloud, but it does make for a more dramatic image if it is there. The digital age has made that choice redundant for the wise shooter.

I had not planned to shoot at all, today, but during late afternoon I had to nip out of the house for a short while on business (cat food, actually). It was on my way home that I first caught sight of the full moon through broken cloud, and was taken by the drama of it all. I knew it would produce good pictures if I was able to get home quickly enough, but feared it might well be all over by the time I was able to get home and set up. I quickened my step in anticipation. As it turned out, things looked even more promising once I had got back, so it was out with a tripod and big lens.

I started shooting with a teleconverter on the lens; the idea being to get the biggest image possible, but quickly realised that I was missing the effect of moonlight on the scudding clouds, and removed it. I was careful to make sure I kept the detail of the moon by adjusting the exposure until I no longer had the 'blinkies'* on the rear screen of my camera, and timed my exposures for when things looked interesting through the viewfinder.

Having produced RAW files, I was able to have total control over the final image, and brought up the far dimmer clouds using the editing software technique of 'dodging', since the information was there all along. It just needed finding.



300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor. 1/60th second at f/4. ISO 200. Manual exposure. Mirror lock up and remote release. Tripod


*The 'blinkies' are seen as parts of an image highlight on the rear screen of a camera that blink after a photograph has been taken, indicating to the photographer that there is no information (pixels with detail) in those areas. Adjustments can then be made should it be deemed necessary.



© 2012

Game on...

British Summertime comes to an end in the early hours of tomorrow morning (2am), the clocks are put back an hour to herald the onset of winter, and the weather comes out in sympathy. It is noticeably colder, today, with temperatures dropping to 8ºC, but the sky is largely clear and it is still quite warm in the sunshine - especially when sheltered from the North westerly wind and by the sea.

Despite it being a crisp and bright day, there are few people taking advantage of it all along the seafront of Poole Bay; not even the surfers have put in an appearance. Not surprising, really, as the sea is a flat calm - but that doesn't usually stop them all. Today, it did.

I was hoping for a spectacular sunset, or something equally as interesting, to photograph at the end of the day, but since there was little in the way of clouds it was never going to happen. Instead, I while away the last of the light shooting the surf gently lapping against the beach from Boscombe Pier, as the tide began to ebb and autumn (in my book) begins proper.

Game on.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/2000 second at f/8. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 320


© 2012

If only...

It has got somewhat cooler than of late; not exactly winter, but an autumn bite is in the air. This was forecast by the Met Office earlier in the week - so not entirely unexpected - but sunshine was also mentioned, which we didn't get. Not that is ever a problem as long as there is light of some sort. In the eventuality it turns out to be heavily overcast, but regular readers of this blog (I know you are out there, somewhere) will know that I embrace such conditions as I find the light of  'God's own softbox' to be very useable, if not desirable, and quite beautiful.

The trick is not to include any sky in the photograph if it is a featureless grey, and concentrate on detail. I am carrying just a 50mm lens for the job, as I find it easier to handle for such photography where the flexibility of a zoom lens is unlikely to be needed.

On today's walk along the seafront of Poole Bay, Dorset, I am drawn to the wooden groynes built at intervals along the shoreline to reduce longshore drift, and in particular the texture of the weathered greenheart wood and the bolts used to keep them all together.

It doesn't take too long in finding interesting features to point my lens at, although I am sure I must be drawing the odd look of curiosity from passers-by, who might well be wondering just why I am on my knees in the sand and paying so much attention to apparently nothing. Of course, it bothers me not, and I did once overhear a remark made from one walker to the other as they passed me by (and thought I was out of earshot): "He was taking a picture of the wall!"

If only they were to stop and look.












50mm f/1.8 AF Nikkor.

Top: 1/100 second at f/7.1.  - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 640
Right: 1/250 second at f/5.6. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 640


© 2012

He who sits in the shadow of his tail...

I have a visitor; maybe a local resident; in fact, I'm sure this little guy has recently moved into the area, since I have seen evidence of drey building. A grey squirrel. Nothing is more controversial, it seems, than this small rodent that has managed to co-exist with humans in this country for the last 150 years or so. In fact, I have had outright disagreements with people in defence of grey squirrels when out shooting (photographically).

Arguments tend to follow the lines of: They don't belong here; they cause a lot of damage to the environment; they are reducing the bird population, and they carry disease that is deadly to the native Red whilst they themselves are immune. Whilst the last point is true, they rarely threaten the protected colonies of Red squirrel My standard ripost to the other comments are: They didn't ask to be brought from North America; ...and humans don't? - and most indigenous birds die-off due to starvation in winter, because it is increasingly difficult for them to find food in reduced habitat. Again, human intervention, and the last point being the findings of the RSPCA. Whatever your stance on the subject is, this one is here to stay, and more than welcome.

It was last week when I saw him for the first time (it is a 'he'), taking materials up a nearby tree to build its nest, but then disappeared from the garden for a few days. He was more than likely about, but I had just not seen him. Then, this morning, he reappeared and was in search of food. I knew that if I left the house to photograph him he would be gone in an instant, so I was forced to shoot through an closed window. Not an ideal situation; shooting through less than optical quality glass, but I felt a shot was better than no shot - something that I constantly preach - so I got on and did it.

Something else I readily maintain is that good wildlife images can be had in your own garden or local park. Not only was I attempting to support this statement, I was going to be able to do so by not even leaving the house. Light levels on an overcast autumn day were low, and even though I was using the lens wide open - and on a monopod - it was still necessary to switch on the vibration reduction (VR) on the lens to get anything approaching a sharp shot.

I think it is time to employ a bit of field craft in future, and get myself outside.



300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor (VR on). 1/200 second at f/2.8. - 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 640


© 2012

Spot-on with the weather...

Setting up base camp on Boscombe Pier, Dorset, was a good idea, and it is paying dividends, no doubt about it. Apart from being a raised platform that juts out to sea from which to shoot, I feel there is a whole photo essay in the making of the pier, and the comings and goings of visitors and locals alike.

All week the weather forecasts for the area have been spot-on: changeable, with showers. How could they go wrong? Sooner or later the conditions will tie in with either what I have been told on TV, or read about online. I'm not complaining, mind: it is all good news for me and my camera.

I do have a dilemma to deal with once I am on the coast, though, and that is one of camera support. For all the preparation of my photographic gear before I leave home it suddenly dawns on me - and far too late to do anything about - that I still have the quick release plate for my ball head attached to the foot of my fast super-telephoto lens (used yesterday to photograph surfers), i.e. not with me. This renders my monopod merely a passenger this afternoon, and is now just being taken for a walk. After a while it doesn't bother me too much as it looks like there will be nothing of substance to point a lens at, but by the time I arrive at the pier things have begun to develop rapidly.

Rain clouds sweep in from the South West (almost on cue); the sky darkens and the rain lashes down. Sunlight follows, and the inevitable rainbow (this is getting boring), but I snap away anyway, under exposing by a full stop to accentuate the conditions.. So many people complain about the rain, but why do they when it is so photogenic? Them not being outdoor photographers may be the answer.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/200 second at f/8. -1 stop EV compensation. ISO 400



© 2012

All or nothing...

All or nothing: my House motto when at school, and today I felt it time it was put into practice. Motivated by the recent sightings of a local kestrel, I decide today to pack my bag with my biggest lens and converter and get the job done properly. Since this optic is of a somewhat bulky (and weighty) nature I am inclined to carry just that and nothing else for photo shoots; all my eggs in one basket, if you will, but it does produce the results.

Of course, the other necessary ingredient in the mix is the bird itself, and today is a no-show. With the sunshine about to give way to rain, I adopt the contingency plan and make for the local pier. Even then I'm not too optimistic about what I will shoot. The weather is closing in, and a super-telephoto lens is of little use for scenic work if the scene is obscured by rain.

But all is not lost! There are the usual handful of surfers enjoying the waves that are being whipped-up by a strong South Westerly (wind or no wind; waves or flat calm - it makes no difference - they are still there), and the number is growing. They are surfing close to Boscombe Pier, as the waves tend to be larger there, so I am able use the raised platform to get in closer without getting my feet wet. As per usual, there are varying skill levels on display, and it soon becomes apparent as to who to keep an eye on to get some action shots.

I could blast away in burst mode, but opt to take single frames instead, trying to anticipate the peak of the action. I spend half an hour or so taking photographs before the chill of early evening gets the better of me, and although I have more elegant poses of the surfing community, I choose this image as I feel it better conveys the intensity of the sport.


300mm f/2.8D AF-S VR Nikkor. 1/640 second at f/2.8. + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Quite by chance...

During the past few days of wandering the cliff tops and beaches of Poole Bay, I have encountered - quite by chance - a kestrel; one of the two pairs that are said to live and hunt in the area. Not an uncommon sight for the observant, but as is often the case I am either carrying short focal length lenses and the raptor puts in an appearance, or toting a telephoto lens and the bird(s) are nowhere to be seen. Today I chance it, and take both types of lens along... and it pays off.

I count myself lucky, as after only half an hour or so of scanning the skies in either direction for that signature hover, she appears. Having determined that her flight path is towards me, I check all the camera settings and begin to track her movements. Kestrels are relatively easy to photograph if you can get near enough - they tend to stay motionless on the wind whilst scouring the ground below - but frustratingly this time she keeps a respectable distance in this behaviour.

I fire off a number of frames anyway, knowing that despite the long lens my quarry will be far too small in the frame to be of any use, but I do keep a watchful eye out as things can develop rapidly. They do. She suddenly drops from a hover and swiftly flies past me -  much closer, now - to hunt further along the coast. I pan the camera instinctively and fire a burst of frames in the hope of capturing something. Only three of the images are in sharp focus: this is the best of them. Better luck next time.


300mm f/4D AF-S Nikkor. 1/2500 second at f/5.6. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

 

Less dramatic...

Twenty five years ago tonight was the night The Great Storm hit most of southern England and northern France - the worst storm in 284 years - that killed 18 people in the UK and caused substantial damage to buildings and trees. In some areas hurricane force winds were recorded (up to 120mph - 193 km/h), but the remarkable thing was I slept through it all. I really had no idea what had happened overnight until I went off to work the next morning, and wondered what had caused all the chaos. As I write, winds are gusting up to 43 mph (69km/h) along the coast, but nothing like those experienced at the time. Just a gentle reminder on the anniversary.

I have adopted a local pier as a base to shoot from for the time being. I'm not spending all day there, but I am trying to time my presence to the last two hours or so of daylight. It is an ideal vantage point since it is a raised platform, and the views in either direction along the coast are equally interesting when the weather changes mood.

I'm captivated by the soft early evening light; the clouds and the ebbing tide; all coming together to form an image that is almost monochromatic in feel. I feel it is too good an opportunity to pass up, so I start to frame the photograph and wait for a pleasing wave pattern to form for a more interesting foreground. As I am fine tuning the composition (and about to fire the shutter), a surfer unexpectedly runs into the frame and the balance is complete. I had one or two moments when the light was more dramatic prior to this, but I choose this picture from the session for its simplicity and subtle tones.

24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/500 second at f/8. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 200. Monopod


© 2012

I could not have asked for more...

I am occasionally asked as to why I return to the same location time and time again to photograph what I have already photographed before. My reply is always the same: Every time I go back I get something different; it is never the same twice. Up until now that has been true. Even visiting the same location two days running under clear blue skies, and at the same time of day, will produce slightly different results. Well, today was something of an eye opener for me.

Once again, showery weather was predicted for later in the day, so I set off in the late afternoon sunshine for a photographic ramble along the beach. I had every intention of shooting the passing rain from Boscombe Pier. Just like yesterday. I even walked the same route along the sands with the same lens on the camera, taking similar images. Just like yesterday. What I didn't have yesterday was a fisheye lens. I remember wishing I had one at the time, to capture the rainbow in its entirety that appeared during the late afternoon shower. Today I have it with me, solely for that purpose.

Somewhat presumptive, you may think, but I can barely believe it myself when the clouds roll in, and it begins to rain within moments of my arrival on the pier. Just like yesterday. Light rain to start with; progressing to a brief but intense downpour, and finally topped-off with a flurry of hail stones. A gentleman standing nearby - that by the looks of him originated from the Eastern Mediterranean - danced excitedly, and loudly proclaimed: "It's snowing!" Well, not quite, but a mixed bag of events that, with the sunshine, produced the inevitable rainbow, set against dark cloud. On went the fisheye lens and I began to make photographs. Just what I wanted...which was nice.

10.5mm f/2.8 AF Nikkor Fisheye. 1/400 second at f/8. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2012

Point and shoot...

No doubt about it: this time of year is the bees knees for photography, in my book. It's not just the autumnal colours and smells that make it such a stimulating time to get out there with a camera, it is the light itself. I often find myself advising others to "just photograph the light". Don't worry too much about the subject, as the light will make the image work.

A piece of advice I picked up many years ago, and it has paid dividends ever since. Good fortune plays its part, but with a little planning you can make your own luck. The weather forecast today was for a clear start, followed by showers arriving from the West later in the day, so I hold back until mid afternoon before venturing out to the coast. I am increasingly drawn to seascape photography. So much variation can be found as the sea always reflects what the sky is doing, and water is so very photogenic. How can you go wrong?

To start with I'm wandering along the backshore, snapping this and that - stones, mostly - set in against the ripples of wind-blown sand, but I have been eyeing that cloud bank that is rolling in from behind the Purbeck hills as I do, and manage to time my arrival at Boscombe Pier (my new outdoor base camp), to perfection. It starts to rain the moment I arrive, so all it takes is for me to sit and wait for a rainbow to appear. One does - and a double one at that, with the colours of the outer bow reversed - but it is what is happening in the opposite direction that has the real drama (image). I'm careful to overexpose slightly, since I am shooting into the light, but it is simply nature itself that does the rest. I just have to point the camera and fire the shutter. Wonderful.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/800 second at f/8. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 200. Monopod


© 2012

Where have all the fishies gone?...

Fishing: I'll admit it - not my cup of tea - and never will be as far as I can tell, but it doesn't ever stop me shooting the breeze with the anglers that dot the coastline of Poole Bay, or gravitate to the end of the local pier.

I'm out twice, today, shooting in the greyness of a rainy autumn day, and both sessions culminate on Boscombe Pier, Dorset. Unless there are water sports enthusiasts doing their stuff on such days (not today, there wasn't), it does seem that the best of the "action" can be found on the end of said pier.

There is precious little in the way of action to photograph if I take this route, mainly because very little gets caught. Of the four fisher folk that I chatted to, three of them bemoaned the dwindling stocks of suitably sized fish over the past ten years (and what has caused it), but went on to say that being out in the sea air more than compensated for it all. The fourth was only too pleased to be there at all, since he lives in Nottingham. It was also heart warming to hear that two of the four anglers questioned actually returned their catches to the deep blue sea. Good for them!

I'm struggling with shutter speeds as the light fails and the early evening rain persists, even though I am shooting from a monopod. I could raise the ISO to some astronomical figure; I could shoot wide open; but I don't. Instead, I elect to steady the camera by bracing it firmly against the framework of the windbreak that runs almost the length of the structure. That technique - plus the monopod - allows me to capture the mood of the scene with the best quality available.


70-200mm f/2.8D APO Sigma lens. 1/6 second at f/8. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 250. Monopod


© 2012

Autumn colour...

It had been playing around in my head for a week or so; the idea of photographing the fallen leaves of autumn. Although the foliage on the trees is certainly changing in colour now, it still remains mostly on the branches. The good thing about it is that not all trees shed their leaves at the same time, so some beautiful contrasts are to be found if only one is prepared to look.

It is a grey, heavily overcast day with persistent drizzle, which from a photographic stand point is ideal weather conditions for such image making. Light levels will be low, but since I want to keep as mobile as possible I choose to shoot using a monopod instead of a more stable three-legged platform. Not ideal, but better than nothing, and certainly necessary with shutter speeds plummeting in the gloom. I know the flat light and the light rain will help saturate colours and add a sheen to everything, but I deliberately underexpose slightly to help things along.

It is also the time of year that fungi abound if you know where to look, but perfect specimens are difficult to find unless you get out early, as various insects and gastropods like to feast on them for breakfast, it seems. I take a number of token shots as I come across them (the fungi, that is), but my primary objective is the leaf.

After some concentrated hunting I start to find good shaped leaves, and photograph them where they fell. I end up with a satisfying series of photographs, but the best shot of the afternoon is that of a Lime leaf shown here, that seemingly glows of its own accord, resting in stark contrast on a bed of dead Sycamore.



24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/60th second at f/8.  - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 500. Monopod


© 2012

A stitch in time...

The bigger picture: Sometimes photographers like to squeeze as much of a scene into the frame as possible. That used to entail either fitting a wide-angle lens, or taking a few steps back. The real problem doing so was that certain aspects of the image would be correspondingly smaller as a result; not always desirable. A bigger print would need to be made to compensate, and then lens faults and film grain/digital sensor limitations - with their finite arrays - began to play a part in degrading the image.

There is a better option in the digital age, and that is to shoot a panoramic. Panoramic cameras have been around for a very long time - who doesn't recall seeing those stretched-out school photos? However, these cameras were often unwieldy and expensive, but your common or garden camera need not be, yet still achieve quality results.

I hadn't planned to shot using this technique this afternoon - it was more of a spur of the moment thing - so there is a degree of distortion evident in the shot, and the horizon is somewhat bent, but for what it is I am prepared to overlook it this time.

I was using a standard zoom lens but still wanted more than it could deliver, so panoramic it was to be, purely just for fun. First, I set the camera's autofocus and metering systems to manual mode, and set picture quality to 'fine jpeg': I usually shoot RAW files, but this would have resulted in an unnecessarily massive file to work with on the computer. Next, I took a general meter reading from the brightest part of the scene; selected the aperture and focused roughly a third of the way in. I touched nothing after that. Turning the camera to the portrait mode (upright), I took a series of photographs, panning from left to right, allowing an overlap of roughly a third of the frame from one shot to the next. This gives the software the information it needs to automatically align the eleven shots for a smooth transition. Adobe Photoshop did the rest.

Despite the rough-and-ready approach I was rather pleased with the outcome, and made the mental note that this is a technique I should employ more often. The resulting 39.55 MB file will produce a print 86 cm wide in its native format.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. All eleven frames: 1/250 second at f/10. ISO 400. Stitched together in Adobe Photoshop


© 2012

Conkers...

I'm captivated by the contents of this morning's broadcast of Saturday Live on BBC Radio 4. The usual mixed bag of topics were covered - vegetarianism; stargazing; the turning of the New Testament into Jamaican (by Courtney Stewart), and even an interview with Jeni Evennett and Sylvia Hillier, who as teenagers were aboard the bus for the Beatles' Magical Mystery Tour in 1967 - but it is the mention of conkers that stirs me to get out of the house for a morning walk with my camera.

A 'conker' (for the uninitiated) is the seed of the horse-chesnut tree, and has long been used by children and adults alike to play the game of conkers. The autumnal activity entails threading the large brown seed onto a shoelace (traditionally) and striking it against your opponents until one breaks and an outright victor is determined.

I find none. Plenty of sweet-chesnut abound - none of which have the durability for the aforementioned game - so I press on to the seafront and the beach. I'm carrying a super-telephoto lens, but a wide-angle optic would have been a better choice, it seems, purely for the wonderful cloud patterns over Poole Bay. Not to worry, as there is a good amount of cloud covering the horizon and beyond.

Although the conditions look somewhat foreboding in today's photograph, there is in fact clear blue sky above me, highlighting anything that is not beyond the horizon. All that dark cloud is over France, some 80 miles (129km) distant, and since the sunlight is directly illuminating the sails of the boat I am able to underexpose one f/stop below the suggested meter reading, to give the cloud more weight, tone wise.


300mm f/4D AF-S Nikkor. 1/3200 second at f/8.  -1 stop EV compensation. ISO 250

Trick photography...

Eight seconds: That is all you get, photographers! That is the estimated time a casual magazine reader will spend on a photograph whilst idly flipping through the pages, before turning to the next and ignoring (and forgetting) your photograph for evermore. Not long, so the photographer needs to make the image as appealing as possible to keep the viewers attention. Other than the content of the photo itself, one such trick is to warm-up the overall tone, by either shooting with the right filters in front of the lens at the time, or adding warmth during post processing - in Photoshop (or other editing software). A photograph with warm tones will make the viewer feel more comfortable - we all like to be warm; cold tones will have the opposite effect. Colour psychology in action, and the viewer will not even be aware of it.

I prefer the latter technique these days and do it all on the computer, as it allows total control of the image, which can be adjusted at a later date should the need arise. This could also be done in the days of film, by re-photographing a print or transparency and adding the appropriate filter for the desired effect, but it was rather time consuming and the results were not immediately apparent.

There are occasions when I forgo the warming-up process and deliberately cool a scene, as I have done here, by adding a subtle blue tint. CC, or Colour Correction filters were originally intended to do just that: correct the colour of light. A blue filter might be employed for taming down the sun's late afternoon redness in a portrait, for example, for a more natural appearance, but they became useful for pictorial applications in their own right. Of course, a filter used well is never obvious to the viewer.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/1600 second at f/5.6. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Into the light...

To paraphrase TV football pundits: It has been a day of two halves. It had been overcast and raining during the morning, followed by broken cloud and sunshine during the afternoon. I shot under both conditions, but the photographs I made just before sunset at the entrance to Poole harbour, Dorset, proved to be the best of the day.

Whilst travelling on foot during the morning, I opt to ride my mountain bike later in the day, and make my way along the seafront of Poole Bay towards Sandbanks for the last of the light. On my way I catch sight of a number of unfurled sails on the horizon; gamble that the boat is heading to port, and decide to intercept it at the harbour entrance.

I was right, but unfortunately for me the sails had been furled by the time it neared the shore, and sailing in on its engine. A shame, really, since the light was getting good as it entered the harbour, but all was not lost. I had already planned to shoot directly into the light as the vessel passed by, just to add a bit of variation to the standard pictures.

I know this technique will produce high contrast images, with little detail in the main subject, but it is not until I open the files on my computer that have the idea to sepia tone the photograph. At one time that process could only be applied to a monochrome print, by bleaching it until only the darkest tones remained, and then transferring the print to a second bath of toner and leaving it there until the desired effect was achieved. Photoshop simplifies things greatly, and no need to faff-about with chemicals. I still occasionally come across a photographer that is determined to shoot film until the last roll in existence has been exposed, but for the life of me I can't see why they would want to continue to make things so difficult from themselves. It beats me.


70-200mm f/2.8D Apo EX Sigma lens. 1/5000 second at f/5.6. + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012