melev

Tomorrow, members of DFWMAS will be coming over to visit from 3pm to 6pm to learn about reef photography. I've been taking pictures of fish and livestock for over ten years, and get many compliments for those efforts. I also have a (cough) friend that says I don't know a thing about it, but she's in California so essentially I ignore her completely. (Jessy, I'm talking about you in case you missed it.)

When it comes to taking pictures, I have specific processes in mind. I'm not trying to create art nor am I trying to enhance the subject in a way that would make it better than reality. Usually it's for documentation, to show where something is currently... and later photograph it again for updates. I like to see progression pictures. Seeing how a coral has grown over time is interesting, and knowing when it was taken is just as important.

I took a picture of an acro I brought home from the frag swap less than two months ago. Then I renamed the image to include the date so that when I referenced it in the future, it wouldn't be a haphazard guess. When I share my pictures online, they are in folders (year/month) and the image may have a date in the filename if I feel the need.

This image was taken 11/17/13. The lighting was 10,000K.

This image was taken 1/10/14 of the exact same coral. The orientation is different because I placed it on the rockwork permanently to begin its grow-out. The change in coloration is simply incredible. This was shot under the same bulb, but in its 20,000K mode. That being said, the pink and green are still clearly apparent under the 10,000K spectrum.

I tend to put the subject in the center of the image, since that is what I want to focus upon when describing said topic. Occasionally I'll move it off center for a better visual. I'll also consider the background, attempting to avoid reflections off the glass, ugly distractions in the frame, and all the while making sure the settings are correct and the item is focused. Some items are shot several times, and there have been times where I saw the image on the big screen later to discover it's too blurry and have to run over to the tank to reshoot.

After all that has happened, the images are loaded into the computer. More often than not, I'm disappointed with what I'm seeing because they didn't turn out as nicely as what my eye so easily processed. Our brains filter out so much stuff, and we do it without thinking. We look through reflections like they aren't there. We zone in on the exact critter we find curious or pretty, and don't even notice the specks moving about. This picture of Spock was pretty nice, but the particulates were everywhere and really spoiled the shot. In Lightroom or Photoshop, you can heal these out.

Before and in mid-cleanup:

After:

I'd say I spend as much time in Lightroom as I do behind the camera before my images are shared. If I shoot for an hour, I edit for an hour, maybe longer. I want to get the lighting right, the distractions removed, crop it down to something easy to share on the net, and make sure my watermark is included. I remove the blue or green hue that washes out images, and add more black or shadowing as needed. When I finally share the image, it usually has a story to go along with it.

These clownfish were so cute poking their heads out of the anemone together. To get this shot, I had to crouch down under the microwave while leaning on the kitchen counter to take this image head on, keeping the lens perpendicular to the tank. This avoids reflections and more importantly avoids refractive blur caused by shooting through the glass wall at an angle. I usually shot in manual mode, adjusting the f/stop and shutter speed with each image. I must have taken about eight or more shots, one at a time, trying to capture this moment. With the flow off, the fish were somewhat curious what was going on, changing their usual routine. The anemone's tentacles weren't in motion, so they remained in focus as well.

Speaking of no flow, this Blastomussa was much easier to shoot and looks fluffy and fills the frame.

To get reflection shots, all the pumps have to be off for the water to be still. Of course, that doesn't mean it will work out perfectly if your fish didn't get the memo. Spock was like a whale yesterday, swimming and providing big ripples with a few thrusts of her tail -- very annoying.

Shooting from above the reef with a Top Down Photo Box, there are times when the coral is too close to the lens. Each lens has a minimum focal length, meaning the minimum distance required for the camera to focus on the subject. When a coral is too close to the surface, I have to freehand the process. I hold the box with my left hand and I hold the camera loosely in my right hand, withdrawing it from the box as far as necessary to get the autofocus to lock on, and press the shutter button. It's a little challenging, but if you do it enough you figure out what to do and how to do it right. Usually the camera creates a nice dark shadow inside the box, but as you move it out of the box you may see a reflection of your hand or light leaking in, reflected off the inner bottom pane of the photo box. It's one more thing to keep track of, and tilting the box slightly or moving the camera up may be all that is necessary to eliminate such distractions.

Here are more images from yesterday, celebrating reaching 60 days for both the reef tank and the anemone cube. Click the first thumbnail for the larger version, and in the pop up window you can click through the images one after another.




If you aren't happy with your images now, it could be that you aren't doing enough post-processing. Very very few images I take look perfect right out of the camera, maybe three or four per year. Everything else needs a little TLC to get it looking right. My goal is always to make my images look like what I see with my eyes, and when others note that my tank actually looks like my pictures, that's the best compliment I can receive.