Sunset in middle May at 43 degrees north latitude is around 9:30, followed by maybe 20 or 30 minutes of gloaming as the crepuscular light gives way to full night. The twin light of sky and streetlighting is shorter on cloudy nights and longer on cloudless ones like last night when I dusted off my tripod, attached the quick-release baseplate to my ten-year old mirrorless Sony ILCE-5000 with its 30mm macro SEL30m35 lens. When working in low light, I rely on the self-timer to release the shutter to minimize the finger-press shake on the shutter button. And to make sure the ISO sensitivity is constant, I switch from AUTO to 1250, although to catch streaking taillights, I did momentarily experiment with the lowest ISO of 100 and dial the aperture from my default f8 or f10 to the smallest opening on this lens at f22.
Exposure compensation varied, according to the lighting conditions, but almost always the best range was eV -1.3 to -2.7 to force the meter to underexpose, producing a picture that approximates the visual experience of the naked eye. Left to its automatic exposure setting, the result would be much too bright. And while a healthy human eye can see light values 14-stops between deepest dark and brightest light, very good digital sensors normally record only 12 f-stops of difference, leaving anything too bright as washed out and anything too dark opaque. Merging a burst of several exposures into a single HDR image can extend the details visible in shadow and keep the bright patches from bleaching, though. In general the dimmer compositions called for the biggest underexposure -eV settings; the more brightly lit scenes such as the gas station required minimal -eV to be applied. Thanks to digital photography’s display screens, experimenting with different exposure compensation made good results possible.
For almost 2 hours (9:40 to 11:20) as twilight faded into full night, I walked around the arterial street in true photowalking fashion, letting my eye lead the way and stopping when something eye-catching appeared and with little concern about how much or little time had elapsed. Spreading the tripod legs and pointing the ball-head toward the main subject, I slipped the camera from around my neck to snap it onto the tripod head. Then the built-in bubble level allowed for an approximately correct starting point from which I could shift incrementally up or down, left or right to crop out distractions or glaring lights that could not otherwise be shielded by a nearby sign, branch or another obliging object. Auto focus gave a general starting point, but the option of manually focusing gave best results. In particularly dark locations when the focus kept seeking its object, relying on the distance measures displayed (e.g. 28m or 52m, etc) was the best way to set the lens point. Holding the shutter button to lock that manual point of focus, the only decision left to make was about moment to set off the 2-second timer: if a passing bus or car was intended, then there could be some waiting. But if the scene looked best without passing pedestrian or vehicle, then the photo could be captured right away, once any traffic had gone by.
After a dozen or so compositions and a flirtation with video clips of cars passing, a pattern in the kinds of subject that caught my eye again and again became clear. [1] Pools of light and masses of dark like chiaroscuro stood out to me. Since most of the space is dim or completely dark, any light no matter how big or small naturally draws attention to itself, sometimes with an interesting foreground in silhouette. Besides the presence or absence of light, [2] interesting shadows (distinct leaves, geometric patterns, contrasting lines or textures) also prompted me to stop and consider whether the camera would see things as my eye did. Would this make an interesting photograph or not, I would wonder before setting up tripod or else moving onward. [3] Kinds of light alone or mixed light, direct or indirect, reflected on windows or vehicles or puddles also called out to me on my photowalk. Sometimes I’d stop and remember street photography master, Garry Winogrand (see full list of practitioners &list of 46 Winogrand quotes), and his reason for talking thousands of snapshots. When asked why, he answered: “I photograph to see what things look like photographed.” In other words, if something in this nighttime photowalking caught my eye, I’d rationalize the interruption of my wandering by thinking of Winogrand and then go ahead to find out how the 3-D space and time of dark and light would turn out in the transformation of optics and electronics to produce a 2-D photograph.
Another thing that seemed to get my wide-eyed, wondering attention was the [4] position of the light source(s). Sometimes there were bluish, amber, and whitish lights all competing to illuminate a storefront, intersection, or parking lot within the inky black of night. That quality and angle of light alone could make for visual interest. But when the character of the light source(s) combined with interesting foreground and middle ground, textures, geometry and desaturated colors, the effect could be lovely in a quiet, contemplative way.
The tripod slowed the pace of capturing a picture, compared to daytime, point-and-shoot habits. And the typically long exposures of 1/6th of a second to 6 seconds led to a new sense of working terms. [5] Time blur and durations began to be in the forefront of my mind, either as something to emphasize (streaking taillights, ghostly pedestrians moving through the frame) or as something to minimize by choosing the release moment when things were paused long enough to record them standing still. Finally, as described in the beginning, the tendency for the camera’s sensor to produce overexposed pictures quickly led me to think in the terms of [6] exposure compensation. Depending on the ambient lighting conditions I soon got used to estimating a good starting value (e.g. begin at -1.3 in bright situations, but begin at -2.3 in barely lit or single-source lighting compositions).
Seldom did just one of these six eye-catchers cause me to pause and consider composing a shot. Instead, there could often be two or more things about a place in my walking route that attracted my attention. Then it was a matter to taking a test shot before fine-tuning the moment of shutter release or the adjustment of the exposure compensation. In the end I came home with about two dozen pictures to tidy up with the laptop’s own simple photo editor before uploading for photosharing. Probably other nighttime photowalkers have other guiding principles or habits of stopping for a second, looking closer before deciding to compose a shot or not. But after maybe 2 years of mostly daytime photography, the eye-catchers in my night walk tended to be these six.
The next time you are photowalking, daytime or nighttime, fair weather or foul, solo or in a meet-up group of fellow lens lovers, then go back to notice the kinds of things that seem to catch your eye over and over. Perhaps there will be something like the things described here. Or instead it could be other objects of attention and intention altogether.
