Archive for Jackson Hole

My Humble Homage To Stephen Shore’s “Merced River, Yosemite National Park, California, 1979”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 29, 2020 by johnbuckley100

The image above is taken on the shore of the Snake River, a few yards from the bike and pedestrian bridge that connects Jackson, Wyoming with the smaller town of Wilson. Wilson Beach, as the swimming area is called, is a section of the Snake with braids and channels that are shallow enough for children to swim safely from mid-summer onward, when the potato farmers on the other side of the Tetons in Idaho have ceased calling for high allotments of water to be released upstream at the Jackson Lake Dam. It is a peaceful, fun, American swimming hole. I call the picture Snake River, Jackson, Wyoming, 2020. There’s a reason why.

The picture above is Stephen Shore’s Merced River, Yosemite National Park, California, 1979. It is, in my opinion, one of the greatest photographs taken in the second half of the 20th Century. It belongs high in the pantheon of Western United States landscape photographs, but it is so much more.

The “M” of the river bend mimics the “M” of the mountains in the same way that Cartier-Bresson’s man leaping across the puddle in Behind The Gare Saint-Lazare mimics the dancer in the poster on the wall behind him. It presages Stephen Wilkes’ great Day To Night series of images, where, from a position high above the action, he is able to focus in on individuals moving across a crowded scene. Shot with, presumably, a large-format camera using Kodak Portra or some other pale, blue-tinted film of the late 1970s, this image, to me, captures a moment in time so perfectly, it may as well be one of Gregory Crewdson’s staged tableaux.

I love street photography and landscape photography in equal but different ways. The best landscape photography naturalistically captures the sublime. There can be tremendous drama, as in Sebastião Salgado’s amazing Genesis project. But while beauty is more of the point in landscape photography than in street photography, the best landscape images, to me, have beauty as not so much the object but a byproduct of otherwise elevating the Earth and sky as twin actors in a drama that inspires awe.

Shore — the once-young tyro who, along with William Eggleston and Joel Meyerowitz, elevated color photography to museum status — made his mark capturing the humdrum banality of American towns and cities. His work was only incidentally beautiful. He started, we have grown to understand, as a conceptual artist whose approach to photography could be glimpsed on many levels. His Yosemite picture above was, for me, the key to unlocking, and appreciating — loving — his work.

For years, I have had his image in mind as I’ve spent time in U.S. national parks, particularly Grand Teton National Park. The image above was taken about eight miles south of the entrance to GTNP, but that’s not the point — everything in Jackson Hole can be viewed as part of the Teton park. I walk the levee by the river fairly often when out in Wyoming, and almost always bring a camera. This past Sunday, carrying the Leica M10-R — not a large-format camera, but a capable tool — I walked by this scene and something inside me — that voice that shouts to a photographer that there is a picture worth making, if only you can — directed me to take this image.

It’s an act of conceit to think any image I would take is worth mentioning in the same paragraph as Stephen Shore’s image. And yet, even as it is consciously/unconsciously derivative of his great image, this image stands, to me, as one of the best pictures I’ve ever made. I offer it as an homage to Stephen Shore’s great picture, before which I genuflect.

On Tulip Frenzy’s 11th Birthday

Posted in Leica Images with tags , , , on January 2, 2019 by johnbuckley100

Snake River Overlook NYD 18-5Eleven years ago tomorrow, the very first post of Tulip Frenzy featured a frozen image of the Grand Teton taken from the Snake River Overlook north of the town of Jackson, Wyoming. That first posted picture was taken early in the morning on the day after a snowfall when it was too cold to ski. It was taken with a Leica M8 and, I’m betting, a 50mm Summilux lens.

The picture above, and those that follow, were taken at sunset — which means around 4:45 in Wyoming on New Year’s Day — and using a Leica SL, a different kind of camera, but with the same lineage and spirit.  Along the way, hundreds of posts, many of them photographs, not rock criticism, which was the site’s original purpose. Much has changed in my life and our country.  But I am very happy to have the opportunity to take photos of the Tetons, on freezing cold days, in the company of my family.

2019 is getting off to a nice start.  Enjoy these images. More to come.

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Rodeo Night In The Tetons

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on August 26, 2018 by johnbuckley100

Rodeo Project Supplement-21Over on our sister site, TulipFrenzyPhotography.com, we’ve just added a gallery devoted to the Jackson Hole Rodeo.

It is a wonderful, small-town rodeo with riders, bulls and horses assembled, three times a week in the summer, from around the West.  One of the things we like about it so much is the way they incorporate young riders into the competition. Go to Tulip Frenzy Photography for a variety of galleries that have been updated this summer.  But if you’d like a further preview of some more images from the rodeo, see below.  All images Leica SL.

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Out Here In The Fields

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 24, 2018 by johnbuckley100

Tetonia-7Leica SL with Super-Vario-Elmar-SL-16-35mm

Teton and Fremont Counties in Idaho can sometimes seem like the red-haired stepchild of Teton County, WY.  They have Teton views, spectacular ones, but Pierre’s Hole is not the same as Jackson Hole, at least in the eyes of tourists and rich folk.  Ah, but in these Idaho counties, around this time of year when it is too smoky to see the Grand Teton from downtown Jackson, they have something special going for them.  We decided to drive over the pass for a look.

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These are farming counties.  Yes, many of the people who live there have a tedious and sometimes dangerous commute over the pass to jobs in Jackson, WY: construction, waitering, guiding fishermen, positioning the fannies of Easterners into the embrace of the chairlift that awaits them.  But still, this is farm country.

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Between Driggs and Ashton, on Route 32, cars and trucks rush on by.  But sometimes it’s fun to mosey along, camera in hand, and pull into turnouts.

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When I walked behind the silo to take a picture of it, the area around my feet exploded with grasshoppers, moths and butterflies.  I heard them before I set foot there, but couldn’t see them.  A little like Fremont County — you might not notice it until you set foot in it.

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As we were heading back toward Jackson — with dinner planned at an excellent Thai restaurant in tiny Victor, ID — we saw an old abandoned barn near the road.

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It was a reminder of how harsh life can be out here.  And also how sublime it is, just a few miles away from Jackson Hole, which is considered among the loveliest valleys in the country.  Teton County, ID looked every bit as pretty as its more famous neighbor across the Tetons tonight.

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On Trying To Capture An Iconic Image

Posted in photography with tags , , , , , on August 26, 2017 by johnbuckley100

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Leica SL, Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90mm

The other night, my family and I were driving to the north end of Grand Teton National Park for dinner when the sky put on a show. “Jesus light,” my son called it, those cathedral shafts of heavenly luminance sweeping the ground below it.  Better than 15 years after first spending time in Jackson Hole in the summer, I seldom stop at the Snake River Overlook to take a picture — you know the spot because you’ve seen Ansel Adams’ iconic image of it 1000 times — but this time I did, because the light promised it would be worth it.

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Leica SL, Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90mm

And it was worth it, stopping and taking a picture captured a million times or more by every photographer worth his salt who comes to this spot, slightly higher than where Adams set up his tripod back in the 1940s.  In fact, the very first image ever posted on this site was the above view, only taken on a freezing cold morning in 2008, when the bright sun highlighted the snow that had fallen on the Tetons.

Leica M8, 50mm Summilux

Last night, when processing my most recent picture of the Snake River Overlook, even referencing the iconic Ansel Adams photo for inspiration and comparison, my son saw what I was doing and, as only a 19-year old can do, laughed at his old man.  He’s reading White Noise by Don DeLillo, and he quickly found the riff about how we all take pictures of things that have been immortalized in photographs which, over time and multiple exposures, no longer are seen in their own right, but are viewed as “photographs.”  We take pictures of pictures, DeLillo says.  Which is true enough, when it comes to iconic images that we are drawn to photograph over and over again: the Half Dome in Yosemite, the Moulton Barn in Jackson Hole.

Spending time in Jackson Hole is both rewarding and frustrating for a photographer, because as a friend of ours once said, it’s hard not to take a good picture here.  But at the same time, with so many thousands of wonderful photographers having come before you, it’s hard to take an original photo, and harder still to take an iconic image.

There is a photographer named Ed Riddell whose work I urge readers to check out, because to me, his lovely photography of the Tetons comes closest to being truly iconic.  So much so that, like a lemming following DeLillo’s playbook, I found myself earlier this summer trying to imitate one of his best-known images, which you can see if you click on the link to his site.

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Leica SL, Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90mm

I certainly found out where he’d taken the image from, which had always been a mystery.  And I came close (though no cigar) to recreating his angle of view.  His image is, of course, better, because of that wild kismet of his having found the right angle, the right lens to use, and because there were both rain clouds and bright sunshine to illuminate the shot. He was in the right place at the right time, with the skill to get the image — something to which photographers as disparate as Joel Sternfeld and Henri Cartier-Bresson can attest.

Still, going out in search of where he’d taken the image from, and yes, trying to imitate it, is as valuable an exercise as something I know writers other than me have tried doing: typing a paragraph or a sentence from a favorite novel, just to feel what it is like to have written, “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.”  When you do that, you aren’t Joyce — I’m neither Joyce nor Ed Riddell — but I am a better writer and photographer because I have reached for the greatness they inspired.

It dawned on me recently that — and I say this with the modesty of someone who has taken thousands of pictures in this valley, among which a handful have merit — I have taken an image or two that could be added to the Jackson Hole iconography.  Two years ago, I was in the Elk Refuge on a night when the clouds rolled in and the sun was shining, and I took this image:

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Leica Monochrom, Typ-246, and Vario-Elmarit-R 70-180

In my humble opinion, this is an image that, were it to have enough exposure, could help define the Sleeping Indian that sits across the valley from the Tetons as being at least the equal to the Grand Teton as an object of photographic interest.  The picture is original, which is to say, I don’t know others who had the same luck to be where I was, with the right tools in hand, and clouds behaving just as they did, the light so perfect.

But let’s go back to the other night as we were driving to dinner, and by chance, the Tetons were illuminated wondrously while I had a camera in the car and a patient driver (my wife), who let me exclaim, “Pull over here!” understanding that the light — and the opportunity — were special.

We first took the image that is at the top of this post, which I quite like.  But over the next few minutes we also took this:

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To us, this is as good an image as we rightly ever can expect to take here.  We can see it printed on a large scale, can visualize it on a wall.  It is our picture.  We didn’t take it in imitation of Ansel Adams or Ed Riddell.  We were blessed to have been in the right place at the right time with the right tool and opportunity.  It is a picture of a thing: the Tetons bathed in “Jesus light.” It is not a picture of a picture.  We humbly add it to our own roster, our own portfolio.

The search for an iconic image — a picture that defines something well known, but in a unique way — is a goal that can motivate a photographer surrounded by a multitude of photographers.  (Though if we are being honest, the first ingredient in making an iconic image is simply showing up, camera in hand, when something wondrous unfolds before you.  Garry Winogrand famously said that he liked taking pictures to see what things looked like as a picture; getting out of the house and going to where a good picture might be taken is at least equal in importance to having the skill to capture the image when you see it.) It is a pursuit that allows us to move forward even as we look at Instagram and, on a daily basis, have our breath taken away by the brilliance of so many others.

If you would like to see other such images of Jackson Hole in monochrome, here is a link to our black and white portfolio.  And if you would like to see our approach to color photography in the Tetons, perhaps you will go here.

 

 

 

The Center Of The Line Of Totality

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on August 21, 2017 by johnbuckley100

Eclipse T Frenzy-11All images Leica SL and Various-Elmarit-SL 24-90 ASPH

We’d started planning on being in Jackson Hole, Wyoming for the total solar eclipse more  than two years ago.  The Path of Totality was to take a diagonal line from Portland, Oregon to Charleston, South Carolina, but its path across the Tetons made this most beautiful of Western destinations pure catnip, and we knew we had to be there.  As the day approached, and with expectations in Jackson — a town of 10,000 — for Woodstock-like crowds, there was anxiety about where to be, and how to get there.  With the first contact beginning at 10:16 AM, and the Totality — that minute or so when the Moon completely blocks the Sun from our sight — expected at 11:34 AM, we left our house at 6:30 AM for what ordinarily would be a 15-minute drive across the valley.  We wanted to be as close to the center line as we could get, and of course we weren’t alone.

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Traffic came to a complete stop heading north from town, and since the one thing we dreaded most was being stuck on the highway during the eclipse, we contemplated turning around. After all, the sky is big and we had a perfect view from home across the Snake River.  But it was a temporary stoppage, and we were soon walking toward a bluff above the Gros Ventre River from where we would take it all in.

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People were already setting up along the ridge line by 7:15 AM, three hours before first contact.  While the sky to the West was clear, there were clouds around the sun as it rose to the East.

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Cars stretched back for a mile or more from the bluff where we set down our gear and seating, and enough food to last a day.  We often find our way on a summer’s evening to precisely this stretch of road, as along the river, there’s often an assemblage of male moose, and on  a warm night, as the Moon comes up over the Sleeping Indian — one of Jackson Hole’s visual landmark’s, a rock formation more properly called Sheep Mountain, resembling an Indian chief in headdress reclining — it’s as pretty a place to be as there is in the West.  But it was odd to be here in the morning, and in a crowd.

Eclipse T Frenzy-14Our assembled team was ready, and we willed away the clouds that might have obscured our view.

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At 10:16, with Eclipse glasses on, we could just begin to see the Moon cover up a portion of the upper right side of the Sun.  Within twenty minutes, as the Sun rose higher in the sky and the Earth rotated, the Moon could be seen as an object clearly closer to us than the Sun, creating the visceral sense that the Moon was somehow pressing itself between the Sun and us.  If you think about the odds of the moon being precisely the size that it could blot out the sun from our view, the miracle of what was to occur, the transcendence of the event, loomed large.

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It began getting chillier as the Moon covered up more of the Sun.  The light got flatter — we’d expected something like the ordinary course of the Golden Hour occurring, but in some ways it was the opposite, as color — and light — was bleached from the sky, not intensified as it normally is before sunset.  The Solar Eclipse app we’d downloaded let us know that the Eclipse was now just 15 minutes away and we braced to notice the changes to our visual environment as the disk of the Moon ultimately completely blotted out the Sun.

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The light took on what only can be described as an unearthly glow.  I have never seen light with that hue or quality.

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It began getting darker fast.  I turned around and now could see above me the Moon completely centered on the face of the Sun.  The Eclipse glasses were no longer needed.

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It was now not quite nighttime, but very dark all around us.  I decided it was dark enough that I could take a picture of the Totality above.

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It is a camera’s job to inject as much light as possible into an image, and the shot above has been further lightened a bit to showcase the effect of the Eclipse on the Wyoming landscape.  Time was now moving very fast, and the promised two minutes of Totality seemed to be going by in an instant.  Between trying to take pictures, viewing the Totality without the glasses, having to put the glasses on when the Sun’s light shot out from the right side of the Moon as it now began moving away from its position covering the Sun’s face, everything seemed to be moving very fast.  And still we we were able to stare right at the Totality, and take in an event that live is so much more powerful than a photograph can convey.

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Within moments, the day had begun all over again, and there was a second sunrise.  Or at least the Tetons were once more glowing from the return of the Sun.

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Very soon, it began getting fully light again.  The temperature having dropped precipitously as the Sun was being halved by the Moon, it once again began to get warm. Giddy from the experience, we circled one another in fellowship, in shared experience, immediately regretful we’d not been able to fully absorb what was happening in the all-too-brief time in which it was happening.  Experience again became familiar.  We were exultant, and because we’re human, regretful: why had this experience, so fast upon us after years’ anticipation, gone again so quickly?

We will spend the rest of our life remembering what it looked like during that brief moment, when by naked eye, we saw the Moon fully within the circle of the Sun behind it. We wish we could say time stood still, but it doesn’t, it roars on by, leaving us changed, and with memories.

The New Years Day Snowstorm (See Full Gallery Of Images)

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on January 1, 2017 by johnbuckley100

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It was about three degrees in the valley when we went for a New Years Day walk.  Jackson Hole is in a snow cycle and while only a few inches had fallen, in the cold air the light was glorious.  Herewith a gallery of images of what we saw this morning, in the order we saw it.  In most cases we have converted the images to black and white; in some cases we didn’t need to convert anything because it already was monochrome.  And in some cases we have left the color in, thinking it looked best that way. Happy New Year — and so happy that already in this new year, we have taken some photographs we like.

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An Appreciation Of The Leica SL By A Confirmed Leica M Photographer

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on July 11, 2016 by johnbuckley100

SL Example-3Leica SL with 50mm Noctilux f/0.95

I am a Leica M photographer, a rangefinder devotee, certain in the paradoxical belief that the very limitations inherent in using an M are the reason why so many images taken with one often look magical. The lack of autofocus and long lenses, for example, lock M users out of certain photographic categories — sports photography, some wildlife photography, various types of landscape photography. Yet in the hands of a practiced M user — and the history of photography is, of course, heavily weighted toward M users — there are things an M photographer can achieve (in both its film and, for the past 10 years, digital incarnations) that users of SLRs, DSLRs, and even modern mirrorless miracles cannot.

But these beliefs didn’t stop me, in April, from eagerly buying a Leica SL, a mirrorless camera with autofocus that arrived with an impressive 24-90mm zoom lens.  You see, even as my approach to photography, which reflects the fact that for much of the year I live in a big city, is principally applied to street photography in color, and since the introduction, in 2012, of the Leica Monochrom, in black and white as well, I spend time each summer in the Greater Yellowstone region of the American West, and landscape photography in and around Jackson Hole is what first motivated me to buy a Leica M7 back in 2002.

Back then, I had been looking for a camera that could return me to the simplicity of Pentax cameras I’d used as a teenager, or the Olympus OM-1 I’d used in my early 20s, and the only system that promised delivery of both the essentials of photography and great optics seemed to be an M.  (It is true that for a few years, until the M8 digital camera was delivered in November 2006, I also used a Leica Digilux 2, which I find very much the precursor to the Leica SL.  But we are getting ahead of the story.)

In 2014, I was fortunate enough to go with my family on a safari in Botswana.  Even with the Leica M-240 now enabling, through a kludge of an adaptor and external EVF, the ability to use long lenses, the images that meant the most to me upon my return were those taken with a Monochrom and a 90mm Summicron lens.  Sitting in the back of an open-air Land Rover while lions and leopards were wandering nearby, I was extremely limited, compared to my son using a Canon D6 and a good zoom lens. But the pictures I came back with seemed to prove my thesis that the very limitations of a Leica force one to take pictures that ultimately look different from the “typical” pictures one expects from a given situation.  That the “shortcomings” of the M paradoxically, perhaps, can lead to a different form of art.

TF Lion Portrait

Leica Monochrom (version 1) with 90mm Apo-Summicron-ASPH

Nonetheless, I returned from that trip vowing I would, if fortunate enough to ever return on safari, purchase a Leica S, probably used, given how expensive they are.  I hankered to be able to do things that one could not do with an M: use long lenses natively, use zoom lenses, be certain that, in a professional situation, I could bring home the goods.  I remember thinking, last summer, about my son’s upcoming graduation from high school and wondering if, given certain situations, I might miss photos because I was changing lenses, or fiddling with manual focus.

And then last October Leica announced the SL, and the reviews were glowing, and it seemed to meet multiple desires.  It would take all of my manual-focus M lenses, including the Noctilux.  The autofocus zoom lens available at the time of release, while heavy and large, sounded amazing, as did the EVF, which received raves.  In April I bought one, and I have been using it, alongside my MP-240 and Monochrom-246, ever since.  I’ve learned a lot in the past few months — about the SL, about my appreciation of Ms, about the M’s limitations, weaknesses, and genius, and about photography itself.  I have been using the SL on an extended stay in Jackson Hole, and what follows is a summation of learnings from the past few months, told through pictures and writing, that I hope expands on the strict limitations of a product review.

The picture that leads off this post was chosen because, since 2012, I have loved taking my Monochroms to various public gardens in DC, often with the Noctilux and, since the release of Monochrom-246 last May, with an external viewfinder that helps render the notoriously hard-to-focus Nocti more consistently effective.  Within days of owning the SL, I came to a quick conclusion: using it with the Noctilux for the kind of dreamy, classic still photography I love is dramatically easier and in many ways superior to using an M in these situations.  Put differently, the Monochrom has only one advantage over the SL in most normal-light situations: size. (I believe it has an advantage over the SL, and probably every other camera, in its gorgeous high ISO performance.)

SL Example-2

Leica SL and Noctilux f/0.95

Because of the EVF, the robust, malleable files, the magnification in manual focus that, since the firmware upgrade in May, is now so easy to access, the Leica SL is simply a superior camera to take along with you if you wish to use a Noctilux and size and weight are not an issue.

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Leica SL and Noctilux f/0.95

There is a reason my blog is called Tulip Frenzy and my photo site is called TulipFrenzyPhotography: I have this weird love of tulips and for 15 years have been shooting them with various Ms and, mostly, the Noctilux.  This year, though, I learned that it was so much easier to take the SL along — in the rain, since it’s weather sealed, or on sunny days — because the EVF, in these situations, is a marvel.

But when I went out into the streets of D.C. to photograph its best annual event, The Funk Parade, I had zero desire to take along the big, heavy SL. I took my small, subtle, amazing Monochrom, and the pictures captured were, I believe, the better for it.

Funk Parade 2016Leica Monochrom-246 and 35mm Summilux.

And when I went out on the street to take pictures of The Capital Pride Parade, the camera I took with me was my MP-240.  Why? Because it is small, discreet, less threatening to people, and renders colors wonderfully.

Pride 2016-11Leica MP-240 and 35mm Summilux

But having come out West for a few weeks, with all three cameras in tow, I really wanted to get a sense of the SL’s magic in those situations where its capabilities could be tested, without regard to its size and weight.  I had long since concluded that it is ergonomically brilliant, well designed, and delivers fantastic files/images.  Of course, on our first full day here, my wife and I went for an evening walk along the Snake River, and because it was a casual stroll, not a photographic expedition, I took along my M.

Evening WalkLeica MP-240 and 50mm APO-Summicron-ASPH

Now, the SL could easily have taken that picture, and possibly it would have been even better.  But the M is small and easy to carry on a walk, and capable of taking such good pictures, in many situations, one does not yearn for the SL’s capabilities: fast autofocus, ability to use zooms, etc.  It’s why the M has been my camera of choice for a decade and a half.

Having said that, being in a small town with lots and lots of tourists carrying cameras, I found it less of an issue to take the SL, with the Noctilux affixed, into Jackson for the evening “Shoot Out” staged for visitors.  The image below might easily have been taken by an M, but manual focusing of Leica lenses on the SL is so intuitive and quick, that if you can use it, why wouldn’t you?

SL ReviewLeica SL and Noctilux f/0.95

In fact, when it came time for Jackson’s 4th of July parade — an event I have photographed for 15 years with Ms — I took along my SL and was stunned at how easy it was to shoot like all the other photographers with their Canons and Nikons, their autofocus and zoom lenses; that the priesthood of M photography, pure and noble as it may be, sure can be a chore, in some situations, when those with zooms and autofocus are so effortlessly having fun.Parade WinnerLeica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90mm 

I likely never would have gotten that picture with an M — I probably would have struggled to decide even which lens to use, and then having made the decision, would have been limited by the decision. I long ago traded in both the WATE and MATE — the M wide-angle and medium-angle “zooms” — because I wasn’t using them, given the superiority of Leica primes.  But here I was, zooming to the right focal length, focusing instantaneously, and emerging with fun pictures.

SL Review-3Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

The picture above could easily have been taken with an M, but again, in a situation where you are comfortably able to carry the bigger SL with its large, excellent zoom, it proves to be an pretty incredible camera and, most importantly, provides a great photographic experience.

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Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

My wife and I, along with friends, traveled up to Yellowstone, and for the first time, the Ms pretty much sat in the bag.  The quality of the SL images are so good, the Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90, f/2.8-4 lens is so satisfying, it was all I needed, or wanted to use. The files produced — like the Monochrom’s – come out looking flat, but they can be so well manipulated, even tortured, in Lightroom, that if I had any doubts, by day two of our trip it was clear: in these situations, the virtues of the SL outshine the virtues of the M.  One finds the ease of use, and the flexibility, in a situation where size and weight are not an issue to tip the scales in favor of using the SL.

SL Review-8Looking for the Bear: Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

While it was easy to use my 70-200 R lens with adaptors, and did so in situations where the length was called for, I used the incredible Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90 pretty much the whole time we were in Yellowstone. Being able to frame the image according to focal length needed is a blessing, as is having a zoom as sharp as most Leica primes. And for a sense of what this camera and lens can do in certain situations, you might like to take a brief detour here.

SL Review-7

Leica SL with Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

We went up out of Yellowstone onto the Beartooth Highway, an amazing, high-altitude road between Cooke City and Red Lodge, Montana.  A year ago, I had taken what I thought were great images there with my Monochrom-246.  But by now I’d learned how good are the black and white conversions one can get out of the SL, and there really was no need to use either M on this part of the trip.

SL Review-5Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

The level of detail captured by the combination of camera and lens is, even when handheld, as fine to my eye as many Medium Format images.

Schwabachers Sunset Instagram Beartooth

Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

In tough, variable light, given the ability you have to get the most out of the files, the SL is, I believe, a really amazing landscape camera.

SL Review-6Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

But lest you think I am ready to chuck the Ms and become a full-time SL user, here’s one downside to the SL, and it is a big one.  I was reminded, via a thread in the Leica User Forum, that Leica’s promotional copy, when the camera was introduced, stated this:

The Leica SL is the world’s first camera conceived for professional photography to feature an electronic viewfinder. With a latency time below the threshold of perception and a resolution of 4.4 million pixels, this EyeRes viewfinder developed especially for the Leica SL offers an entirely new visual experience. As its image can be electronically brightened, the EyeRes viewfinder is superior to optical viewfinders in low or unfavorable light.

While, in general, the EVF is remarkably good, and they’re not wrong about using it in low light, I found that in a number of situations while shooting in the bright light/high contrast of the American West in summer, I actually could not see what was being rendered in the shadows.  Here’s an example, from the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway that runs between Cooke City and Cody, WY.

SL Review-9Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

When I leaned as far over as I could to take that image of the gorge through Mother Earth, I literally could not see the water.  The EVF was thrown by the bright-ish sky to an extent that the area below was completely dark.  Not just a little bit dark, but really dark.

All Guest WelcomeLeica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

When we returned to Jackson Hole and were surprised to find a mama moose and her twins parked outside our house, I snapped away and got many good pictures.  Having such a capable zoom lens was a blessing.  But in the picture above, I had to take on faith that I could get shadow detail out of the bottom half of the picture, because as I looked through the EVF, the image was dark.

This is a significant flaw in an otherwise incredible system.  Yes, I know, as an M user who has not spent time with EVFs, this flaw is common to all systems.  Yet, in their promotional copy, Leica clearly says one can adjust the brightness of the EVF.  You can’t.  There are various workarounds, and you can just trust the shadow detail is there.  But this is a downside one never has with an M and its optical viewfinder.

Yes, with the SL I could finally sneak inside the house, run upstairs, and in a few seconds take the below picture, without having to grab an 90mm and with fumbling hands swap it out from whatever standard lens I might be traveling with, even as the moose stepped out of the picture.

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Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

That’s a big deal: its effortless, easy ability to deliver the goods. This camera has many strengths, and is an incredible system that is complementary to the M.  If one can afford it, having both an M and an SL is a great and flexible combination.   For an M user, the focusing of the Noctilux and other fast M lenses on the SL is remarkable.  And with autofocus zooms and, eventually, long lenses, we now can get engaged in action photography.  The SL is intelligently designed with the ability to program the buttons you want to have call up the features you need at just the right moment, from switching ISO to Exposure Compensation.  It is a pretty remarkable tool, especially appreciated by someone who has spent so long in the defiantly different world of M photography.

The Vario-Elmarit-SL has won me over: it renders colors as well as the 75 Summicron, and is almost as sharp as the best M primes — in any event, it does the job that a longtime Leica user can expect of the company’s glass.

The Leica SL will never replace my M.  I can’t wait for the successor to the M-240, even if I now know I will use it just a little less often than I use my SL.  I can’t imagine taking the SL into city streets for the kind of discreet photography one can access through an M.  I can’t imagine, for example, traveling with an SL to Paris.  But at the same time, when it comes to going out for an evening here in Wyoming, trying to take advantage of the photographic bounties, yeah, as the picture below will tell you, I am very happy that Leica has produced in the SL a first-rate mirrorless system.

Schwabachers Sunset Instagram

Leica SL and Vario-Elmarit-SL 24-90

On Twitter: @johnbuckley100

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Hey, Baby, It’s The 4th of July

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on July 5, 2016 by johnbuckley100

Parade Winner

Yes, Let’s Walk Down This Path

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on July 3, 2016 by johnbuckley100

Evening Walk TrailIt was a long day, what with the 11-hours in a car running an errand (don’t ask.)  But to be able to go for an after-dinner stroll more than made up for it.

Evening Walk With WaterThe sun hung in the sky as long as it could, and when it finally relented, it cast golden light on everything to the east.  Until finally, it came down behind the mountains, leaving a little bit of alpenglow on the peaks.

Evening Walk

All images Leica M-240, 50mm APO-Summicron-Asph

 

 

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