Shooting Travel Stock . . .

By Mark Harmel
Special to the Stock Asylum
December 22, 2005

A big challenge for any photographer on a family vacation is carving out enough time to do some serious photography. Capturing a compelling image often involves activities that are either boring, frightening, or embarrassing to anyone not taking the photo. On most family trips I either put the camera away or lug it around hoping for an above average snapshot.

Photography and family sightseeing schedules frequently conflict. Sunset, a prime time for shooting, is often taken up by checking into the hotel and eating dinner. While my family tolerates me carrying a camera and three lenses , they don't always appreciate me stalking an interesting person in a Metro station or searching for the perfect café chair.

For this year’s trip to Paris I came up with a different solution that I highly recommend. I left a week early.

Author Mark Harmel saw this rowdy group group of young men at a metro station. The wonderful photo developed when the three became captivated by the charming young lady at the left ( © Mark Harmel ).

On a recent weekend closer to home, I attempted to share this passion for photography with Max, my 14-year-old stepson. I invited him on a sunrise journey into Joshua Tree National Park. After my tenth stop in search of the perfect light on the perfect Joshua Tree, Max screamed with hungry exhaustion: "It's a cactus! They all look alike. Just shoot it and let's go eat breakfast!"

I appreciated the wisdom of my early Paris departure on my second day. I walked into the Mussée d'Orsay and was mesmerized by its Great Clock. This is the centerpiece of the railroad station converted into a modern art museum.

At one end of the arched enclosure, the huge beautiful clock hangs in front of frosted glass backed by multiple stories of walkways for patrons going between galleries. Silhouettes created by people strolling behind the clock fascinated me. I wanted to capture someone on the right level, in the right location close enough to the glass to cast a distinct silhouette.

The clock at the Orsay is always there, but getting the right human silhouette in the right position next to it can take a lot of patience. ( © Mark Harmel )

As I was holding my breath, balancing a telephoto lens on a railing I could imagine Max complaining, "Its a clock. Let's go." Since this was my first week – and I was on my own – I indulged my multiple photographer paranoias.

Did I have the clock in focus? Can I hold the camera steady enough for a sharp exposure? Can I get my silhouetted person close enough to the glass? Tourists either did a quick snap of the clock or had someone stand at the railing for a photo. The flash exploded and they moved on – perhaps thinking – "Its a clock, let's go see the Monet's."

What surprised me most was how difficult it was to get a great shot of famous landmarks. Guidebooks never show any seasonal problems or construction warnings.

My first view of Notre-Dame Cathedral revealed scaffolding around one of the towers, ruling out the main facade of the church as a photographic subject.

And at the Louvre, the length of the summer day eliminated my dream of a night shot of the I. M. Pei-designed pyramid. I once met and photographed the architect and admired him both as a person and an artist. My heart was set on photographing the Louvre in the evening with the glowing pyramid and triangular reflecting pools. I discovered that the pools had been drained. I never did understand why.

The author made this image of the Louvre pyramid before learning that the night shot he wanted would be impossible because the pyramid's lights are not turned on late in the summer. ( © Mark Harmel )

Although I found it possible to navigate the city, and feed myself with a limited English/French pidgin language skills mixed with some charades movements -- greater language skills were required to discover why the fountains were broken and when the pools would once again reflect the pyramid.

At first, I optimistically saw the problem with the pools as a challenge to shoot the pyramid in a different way. My wishful thinking was crushed when I learned that the pyramid lights didn't even turn on with the late summer sunset occurring long after the museum closed.

My other lighting mystery happened with another visual treat of Paris -- the Art Nouveau styled Metropolitan (subway) stations. I had my eye on the vine shaped entry at the Blanche station that almost perfectly framed the Moulin Rouge. When I scouted the shot at 4 p.m. the two flower-shaped lights were glowing like an alien's eyes. But, when I returned at dusk with my tripod, the lights were mysteriously off. This time, though I found a solution. More about this later.

Embracing change and learning to go with the flow, is all part of traveling to a new land. This is especially true if you want to come home with marketable photographs. But a little planning also comes in handy. For me this starts with travel guidebooks.

For visual scouting I like the DK Eyewitness Travel Guides. Their Paris guide is full of good photos that serve as both great scouting material and a competitive challenge. My main planning book and constant traveling companion was the Rick Steve's Paris travel guide. The DK book has a little bit of information about every highlight in the city, while Steve's tells you in detail where to go and how to get the most out of your trip.

My dual agenda on my first Paris trip was being a tourist, and taking great photos that would pay for the trip. It soon became apparent that these goals were synergistic. What I wanted to see as a tourist were the same places that everyone else wants to see. I could be my own one-man market research survey. If it were interesting to me, I surmised. it would interest others as well.

The challenge is find fresh and, ideally, better ways to shoot these locations. This is easier in theory than in practice. My first reaction when looking through my viewfinder is usually "this looks like a postcard." Normally this is not a good reaction since most postcards are uninspiring.

You want to do a better job of arranging the pieces than those who came before you. If inspiration doesn't appear right away, you push yourself to find a new viewpoint.

In Paris this could mean finding the best lampposts on the best bridge over the Seine and for once getting a lucky break of finding a construction zone that lets you stand safely in the middle of the street.

Placing the Invalides dome in just the right location for this image required balancing on the 16-inch ledge of the Pont Alexandre III and waiting for a tour boat spotlights to illuminate the bridge details. ( © Mark Harmel )

Or it could mean discovering that the best view of the Invalides Dome involves standing on a 16-inch ledge of the bridge to get the view you think hasn't been shot before. The four-story fall down to the river (or onto a docked boat ) made me question the sanity of this solution. I had plenty of time to ponder this decision since it took forever for the street lamps to come on.

At other times, standing in the middle of the street is required, but even less safe. I had seen a line of waiting taxis on the Champs Elysées near the Arc dé Triomphe. I was tired after my ledge-balancing act, but it was in the neighborhood so I wanted to take a look. My first shots were bad copies of a postcard photo, but as I continued experimenting with the scene the line of cabs grew longer. They were now forced to double-park into the second lane of traffic. This was the break I needed. I moved out from the curb, standing in front of the second lane of taxis. Now I could shoot a line of Taxi Parisian lights right in front of the Arc dé Triomphe.

Double-parked taxis on the Champs Elysées were the ticket to finding a new way of looking at an over-photographed subject. ( © Mark Harmel )

What allowed me to see what others have not? Was the line of taxis not as long for other photographers, or was I just crazy enough to stand in front of the taxis? It is hard to tell, but it does prove that even though you think that it all has been shot before, it is possible to fight through the fatigue, the sore feet and shoulders, to make a fresh image of a familiar landmark.

I'm constantly amazed at the successful export of what I call the "Japanese tourist photo." The classic version is the husband taking a snapshot of his wife or family in front of anything that resembles a landmark. It is the "I was here" memento. Point and shoot cameras are perfect (and in my mind ONLY good) for this style of shooting. So it is done -- even more now that most travelers have digital cameras and photo cell phones. They often seem more interested in having a photo of themselves in front of the Eiffel Tower than in seeing the tower itself.

A pair of Monet paintings serves as a background to document a visitor was at the Orsay. ( © Mark Harmel )

The most bizarre variation of this can be found at art museums. Monet's water lilies and a self-portrait of Van Gough were not works of art to be admired and contemplated. They brecame just one more background for the mug-shot book.

I am personally appalled by the affront to the dignity of the museum and artists, and at the same time utterly fascinated by the act. The documentary photographer in me does not judge the morals, he just yearns to record the act. I understand that this only adds insult to insult, but it can make an interesting picture.

The challenge to my values came when a family friend asked me to shoot a Japanese Tourist Photo of her with her son. Should I break out my lecture that I just don't do that kind of photo, or snap and move on? I decided I was on vacation and snapped.

A bigger question that a travel photography in the digital age has to ask is, "How much manipulation can I do, and how much am I willing to do?" The street artists selling their wares along the Seine all move the Parisian landmarks around to fit compositional needs. Standing on what would be the spot that Maurice Utrillo painted his famous view of the Sacré-Cur Basilica through the Montmartre area shops reveals that he nudged the church's dome to the right. If a painter can move landmarks to meet compositional needs, is it fair for a photographer to do the same?

Sometimes circumstances actually favor the photographer. This Pont Alexandre III lamppost view was more available because of construction zone. ( © Mark Harmel )

Removing a street-sign or a stray lamppost is now just part of my workflow in this day of digital imaging. It allows me more flexibility in my compositions. I can move a little more to the right and distort the Eiffel Tower less if I clean up the tree branch later.

Sometimes I go beyond minimal retouching, blending multiple exposures to extend the "dynamic range," a practice that gets rid of blown-out highlights or totally black shadow areas.

In one image of Paris, I moved the moon into a scene with the Pont Alexandre III street lamp. I have never done such moonrise magic before. I have laughed at fake insertions before, never imagining myself doing such manipulations. Yet, in Paris, just ten minutes before, the moon was in that location. Should I be penalized because it took so long for the lights to come on? I decided it was fair to shoot the moon that was there and to add it back in later.

How far photographers go with this trend is a matter of taste, morals and skill. My retouching skills are limited, but I did go back to photograph all of the pieces needed to create my idealized illustration of the Moulin Rouge through the Metropolitain arch.

How much image manipulation is acceptable in a travel shot? Harmel and a Photoshop expert combined several photos into this single Moulin Rouge image. ( © Mark Harmel )

Returning home, I teamed up with Photoshop artist Dennis Dunbar. He works in the fantasy world of movie posters and has the talent and experience to blend multiple images together for a photo-realistic composite. I suspect that most people will just assume that I just used a special lens, until another photographer attempts to find the spot and discovers that Dunbar and I moved the Metro sign.

Coming to Paris for the first time let me see details of the city that have become familiar to locals. Two details that fascinated me were the sidewalk cafes and the cobblestone streets.

For most of my images that only require a little digital darkroom work, I'm normally most excited at the time of capture. Exposure issues that once plagued us slide film shooters are wonderfully handled by the digital preview on the camera back. Even with an image stabilization lens and auto-focus, many good ideas fail the cut and end up in the trash because of focus or blurring problems.

It is rare when an image grows on me later. But, in Paris, I found two exceptions to the rule.

The red chairs and tables was my first surprise. These backlit chairs were one of the few times I didn't give up in frustration. There were great cafés on seemingly every corner. In August, when half of the city goes on vacation, restaurants stack their chairs inside their windows in wonderful patterns to indicate that they are closed. At the time I just didn't feel as if I could find a way to capture the essence of the signature way of dining. It was only after I looked at what others had done with the subject that I appreciated what I achieved.

I also was initially disappointed with the cobblestone street. In my mind I wanted someone carrying a baguette across the street. I waited at my favorite corner as the Montmartre locals walked by. I stalked patrons at my corner bakery to no avail. Fortunately the pigeon caught my eye as I was waited for my bread image.

The chair and street images grew on me while I processed the digital files and compared them to others of the same subject matter. They are now my quiet favorites from the trip.

Letting go of expectations let me accept these images. Looking back, I can see how this is the secret of traveling in a new country.

Giving up preconceptions that the French should speak English or that the road on a map will be marked with street signs are both good starts. Accepting that there will be construction in the wrong places and lights that will not come on at the right time for pictures also helps. One must simply understand that, when things go wrong, it is always possible to shoot somewhere else -- or use one of those café chairs to sit down and have a glass of wine.

( When he is not traveling, Mark Harmel specializes in medical and people photography in the Manhattan Beach, CA, area. )

Mark Harmel's web site is at: http://www.harmelphoto.com

For more of Harmel's images of France: click here