A Photographer's Biggest Mistake

The simplest error is always the worst

There is a single mistake I make that costs a good image. I still make it despite decades of wielding a camera and producing photographs.  When I realize it, it is often too late to do anything about it. The mistake is a simple one that is neither tied to gear nor technique.

 I was rushing, not taking my time, and forgetting to breathe. I let my emotions, particularly my anxiety, get the better of me, resulting in something that was easily avoidable. There are endless stories of these kinds of mistakes.

 The image is unintentionally soft because I didn’t double-check that the shutter speed was fast enough. I didn’t reset the autofocus point from the previous shot, resulting in something in the background rather than the subject being tack-sharp. I didn’t reset the exposure compensation to 0 after applying three stops of under-exposure for a high-key scene. I could go on, but I am not a masochist by nature.

 I know the importance of slowing down and taking my time. The practice of self-awareness allows me to be conscious not only of how I feel but also of how I see. My ability to keenly recognize the nuances of light and shadow, line and shape, color and gesture is at its peak when I practice calmness and let go of the outcome.

 While attending a food festival in Los Angeles, I photographed a young man smoking a blunt. He was a wonderful character, and after convincing him to pose for me, I made a series of portraits. The problem with the image was twofold. I hadn’t refined the autofocus sensor to target his eye, and I introduced camera movement when depressing the shutter release button. The latter was the result of using a too slow shutter speed, despite the presence of vibration reduction.

 It was frustrating to pull up the image on my computer. I immediately recognized the technical mistakes had nothing to do with the quality or the features of the camera. The camera was more than adequate for the job. The problem lay with me.

 I was out with my wife and friends. So, it was more a social outing than a photographic one. I didn’t want to pursue every photo opportunity at the cost of a good time with people I care about. There was also a sense of social anxiety as I had not been surrounded by so many people in a long time. I was not my usual single-minded self, which resulted in me not practicing my usual pre-check of the camera: setting ISO, exposure, white balance, and autofocus points. That practice often saves me from making mistakes that cost me a good photograph.

 Normally, I would have checked my setting before I approached him to make the portrait, anticipating what I wanted in terms of exposure, depth of field, lighting, and composition. Instead, I fumbled about as he posed. I felt that I wasn’t in control of what was playing out. I made exposures but lacked the usual sense of control and assuredness I usually felt.

 The results were incredibly disappointing, mainly because I had only made a handful of portraits that day. However, it served as a reminder to take my advice whenever I am shooting, whether it’s a street portrait or an urban landscape.

 Slow down. No one is rushing me but me, so there is no reason to rush.

 Breathe and carefully observe each critical step. Don’t worry about missing out on the shot. There will inevitably be a next one. What is important is that I prepare for the moment even before it presents itself.

 One of my favorite street portraits happened while filling up my tank at my local gas station. I saw a young man in a suit waiting for the bus. He looked terrific, and I immediately recognized that the back of the bus-stop shelter provided the perfect background. Its color provided the ideal contrast to his light-colored suit. I couldn’t pump the gas fast enough.

 Even before I approached him, I had figured out my composition. I preset my camera’s shutter speed and aperture, with the latter set to provide sufficient depth of field for a full-body shot. I knew what I wanted the image to be even before I approached him, complimented him on his look, and asked to make his portrait.

 He posed naturally and perfectly, needling no direction for me. He was completely present, as was I. The entire interaction lasted merely a couple of minutes, but it was everything that I did leading up to that first exposure that made all the difference.

It was an important lesson that I have to remind myself I have already learned countless times. I also have to remember to put it into practice.