SLRs
used to be for professionals, high-end amateur photographers,
and people, like me, who had delusions that they were either
one or the other. To be honest, there was a kind of a macho
element to owning one. We had to know a lot about, oh, depth
of field, f-stops, film grain, ASA, and a ton of other things
about which no one else cared.
It was likely — especially if you shot in black and
white — that you did your own developing and printing.
Who knows what damage I inflicted on my lungs locked away
in the tiny bathroom of a high-rise apartment with my second
hand equipment and a bunch of chemicals, turning out truly
awful landscape prints and portraits of street people.
As well as spending hours slaving over a hot enlarger or
a Pentax Spotmatic we studied hard — reading photo magazines,
instruction manuals and books by experts. We might not be
out with a spear hunting wild boar and bringing home dinner
slung over our shoulders, but we were on the trail of that
perfect shot of a child blowing out candles, clouds scudding
past a cathedral spire, seaweed scattered on the shore or
an addict crumpled in a slum doorway.
Then we got somewhat lazy, turning to SLRs with such things
as auto focus, program modes and the like, not to mention
what high speed colour film could do for low-light shooting.
Even so, there was still a lot to know and, well, we could
at least feel manly again every time we changed a lens in
the rain with a hurricane wind blowing all around us.
The arrival of the DSLR made things easier yet. Anything
could be automated. Despite this, we could still (and can
even now) go to such things as manual focus and aperture priority
to relive the experience of the 1960s when we had total control
of the camera — if not the results on any consistent
basis.
One thing we could also depend on is that the latest technical
developments, as well as fads, would largely come first on
the high end equipment, like our DSLRs, and then make its
way down the food chain to the entry-level point and shoots.
That was only natural and right, we thought. We were out there
giving everything a test before it got to the Kodak Brownie
Hawkeye users.
Those days are now, however, a mere memory.
Just ask Doug Borbath, senior product manager of Panasonic
Canada's imaging group who sees the movement of features going
the other way, from the point and shoots to the DSLRs like
Panasonic's own new Lumix DMC-L10 which includes among its
most-promoted features, novice-friendly face-detection, so
that, even if everything else is a blur, at least people's
noses will be in focus.
As well, of course, the DMC-L10 has an LCD preview screen,
now a permanent presence in DSLRs across all brands.
Borbath, in Vancouver recently to spread the word about Panasonic's
new camera and video line, said that one reason why the ease-of-use
gizmos are moving up the food chain is that the nature of
the DSLR user has changed mightily over the past two years,
when most users had owned an SLR in their past.
Today, he says, fewer than five per cent of those considering
buying a DSLR have previously had an SLR.
"So what is their photographic background?" he asks. "It's
point and shoot.
And what do these people want. Well, ease of use, naturally.
"Let's say you're at your kid's birthday party and you've
got your SLR out, the kids aren't going to stay still all
the time. So, face detection allows you to get it done."
As for the LCD preview screen, and the DMC-L10s is articulated,
well, Borbath says that came from the point-and-shooters as
well.
"They don't care so much about the view finder. They do like
a good view finder but it's no as critical. They like to be
able to preview their shot before they take it, whereas the
old time SLR user doesn't care about that stuff."
I have a little story of my own about that. My friend Andy
is a professional artist whose works are photo based and a
couple of years ago he told me he loved his DSLRs, except
for one thing. He wanted the same preview screen he had in
his point-and-shoots.
So, innocent that I am, I asked a the rep of a major camera
company at a show of the latest in cameras, printers and video
when we could expect this feature to appear in his company's
DSLRs.
"It's not something professionals want," he said. End of
story. He looked at me as if I'd just committed a faux pas
of the highest order. Next, he indicated, I'd be asking him
how come the ink in his printers cost more per ounce than
platinum. Suitably chastised, I beat a hasty retreat.
Well, it seems that in the long run it didn't matter if professionals
wanted LCD preview screens on their DSLRs or not; they've
got them now anyway. And that's because otherwise the soccer
mom and hockey dad owners of point-and-shoots won't move up
to the digital cameras with the highest profit margins.
At the same time the professional and high-end amateur users
of premier point and shoots have been complaining about the
disappearance of the ability to shoot RAW images. It would
seem that the inclusion of RAW capability was judged to be
confusing to those who only wanted their cameras for vacations
and family gatherings so it was removed. RAW was for DSLRs
and that was that.
Recently, however, RAW has made its way back into some of
the fancier point and shoots, which shows that if the manufacturers
believe that a feature will sell even 10,000 more cameras
they'll include it. Gosh knows how many units have been sold
because a fireworks setting was included. I wouldn't be surprised
if cameras aimed at the southern U.S. market started including
NASCAR racing settings. Why not?
Fortunately, for those of us who take our photography seriously
and like to give it an element of the old fend-for-yourself-or-perish
days, we can always unleash our adventurous natures in trying
to understand all the image processing software on our computers.
This includes not just Adobe Photoshop, the mother of all
hidden-feature programs, but also its multitude of plug-ins
and, most recently the plethora of RAW processing software.
We may not have to slosh film around in chemicals any more,
but we do have the digital equivalent and we all know these
programs and plug-ins can be a true test of our character
and courage.
Take, for example, a highly-recommended Photoshop plug-in
I downloaded the other night to try out after seeing it touted
in a photo magazine.
Intuitive it was not. And it came with only the most rudimentary
of online instructions, as well as a two-page PDF that was
basically little more than an advertising sheet.
There was no downloadable complete manual because, as we
all know, that would be cheating. So I was left to puzzle
over its features, if I could find them. Basically, I knew
what the plug-in was supposed to do, but for the longest time
I couldn't figure out how it could possibly achieve any acceptable
results. Initially, all I managed to do was to create a blurred
mess of unacceptable colours on my screen.
But I persevered. I spent four hours calling up old RAW photos,
running them through other plug-ins that I already knew how
to use, so I could then apply this particular piece of software.
Through trial and error, I discovered its secrets. Well, most
of them. There were even more features mentioned in the attenuated
online help set, but darned if I could figure them out.
And you know what? Despite all of this, I did find it useful
for a couple of things that I might need at some time or other
in the distant future. So I shelled out my $50 and bought
it. Certainly that was a stupid thing to do, but my excuse
is that it was almost midnight, a time when I should never
be allowed near a computer with a valid credit card. The next
morning, as always, I wondered what the heck I had been thinking.
Chances of my putting that plug-in to much use? Zero and
none.
But, gosh, for a moment there it gave me a real rush. I
was an explorer, an adventurer and, yes, I felt like a real
manly kind of guy because that's what real men – and
real photographers – need to do. They make things hard
for themselves because, otherwise, where's the fun in it?
Next I plan to build a set of shelves for the bedroom closet
with only an axe and a chisel.

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