November 12, 2003
What is more important in an image - the quality
of its appearance, or
capturing that one unique moment in time?
A while back,
Luke and I were entwined in a lengthy email
conversation on the subject. It had sprung out of
a discussion about camera equipment, and how much
camera do you really need? Is it better to have the
latest and greatest in equipment, the sharpest lens,
the steadiest tripod - but you only pull it out
when you really want to, and hence you miss a lot
of shots you would have otherwise captured had you
carried a smaller, but inferior-quality camera
with you at all times?
Luke shoots with a small digital camera,
and despite its shortcomings (he can't make nice big prints
from the pics he takes, his camera is slow to focus,
and has no settings for more creative approaches such
as extreme macros, mirror-lockup for long exposures etc.),
he can carry it always with him
and is right there, ready to capture the moment
when it presents itself. With the excellent eye
he possesses, that happens more often than not.
So what happens if he captures that one unbelievable
history-making event every photographer is waiting
and living for? And what if the quality of the
image sucks as a result of the small and inferior
equipment? Will the image make less of an impact
on photography as an industry or human kind as a
whole?
Point in case is the image below.
I took it a few years ago, in the jungles of the Guatemalan
ruin city of
Tikal. The image is of a
black howler monkey,
sitting on a branch. I was almost at eye-level with
him - after seeing the group move through the trees
right above me and quickly climbing an overgrown temple
in anticipation of their route. I ended up perched
precariously between a swaying tree branch and the
little more stable crumbling rock of the ruin,
shooting with my Canon 10s, a F4 75-300mm Canon
Ultrasonic zoom lens,
no tripod, and on 200 Fuji Sensia slide film.
The problem was that howler monkeys are very
shy, and at that time, they were
also severly decimated after a yellow fever
epidemic had killed
off a good part of the local population.
So seeing them in the first place
was a nothing short of a miracle.
This group was moving through the tree crowns
at an amazing speed. My howler was resting on
a branch, maybe 10 feet away, and for less than
a minute. For most of it, we were playing a
game of peekaboo -
he would stare at me curiously, but the moment
I'd return his gaze, he would shyly look away.
I didn't want to scare him off, hoping for a good
clean shot, but the only chance I got was when he
was getting ready to take off again. He raised his
face to the sky, a lone pinhole beam of light
through the dense tree canopy hit his eye, and
that's when I fired my camera. The sound of the
shutter must have
scared him, because he was gone in a flash.
Later, upon getting my slides back from the lab,
I realized to my disappoinment that the shot
turned out blurry - mostly due to the fact that
the light meter in my camera hadn't been able to
cope with the drastic colors of the monkey's
jet-black fur and the random, blindingly bright
sun beams streaming through the leafy canopy.
The camera had made the exposure too long for it
to be sharp, and I simply hadn't had enough time
to make manual adjustments.
Yet I still treasure this image. I makes me
fondly remember my close encounter with these awesome
animals, and I wouldn't trade that for anything
in the world.
Will I ever be able to sell or publish this image
though? Probably not. Very few people (aside from
the random stragglers stumbling across my website)
will ever see it. Had I had a top-of-the-line pro
camera and a superfast wildlife lens, I might
have gotten the shot in all its glorious crispness, and
it might have been marketable.
Plus - should the
howler monkey ever become extinct (heaven forbids,
although their status is already
threatened), this image could have contributed
to preserving the memory of this glorious species
for many future generations to come.
As it is - it's nothing more than a blurry image
of a howler monkey quite likely nobody will ever
want to take a second look at - but me.

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