I've never been too good at self-portraits. I'm infinitely more comfortable behind a camera than in front, and merging the two roles into an elaborate back-and-forth has always seemed more cumbersome than anything. But I've been long overdue for a new set of promotional photos, and on a whim, I decided to set up my flashes and have a go at 'em. Working in my narrow strip of studio space (which quickly fills up with light stands and tripod legs) drove me insane, with only about 9'x3.5' to work with. It's like trying to shoot on the set of Hoarders. I had too much gear, and not enough space. Thus, the furniture rearranging happened. My new space (I'll post photos later this week) is roughly 9'x6.5' of usable space (widening a bit more as you move towards the drop fabric). Which sounds great, till you get to that part about my bed being in my closet.

But enough about the 'microstudio.' This post is supposed to be about self-portraits, a topic that I'm managing to avoid as much as I avoid the very act itself. My goal for the rest of the year is to get in the habit of doing self-portraits at least once a month. Far from being an act of narcissism, I see self-portraits as an ultimate expression of creativity. It's sort of a quick way of saying "hey, here's the kind of photos I take!" and "hey, this is my personality!" all in one shot. And I'm not talking about those boring, run-of-the-mill self portraits that look like they might as well have been shot in a school portrait studio. Nor am I referring to your duckface-laden Facebook shots through your bathroom mirror. We're talking about pushing the boundaries, pushing the limits of your own self image.

Corinne over at stuckwithpins.com is a great example of this (though her portraits actually do reflect her real-life style to a large degree, versus my own, since I've never worn suspenders in public as far as I can recall). It's all about the image you put on display, and making the most of what's available to you. If you don't have access to a live-view feed that can hook up to a monitor or something that faces you, then you might have some issues adjusting your posture and facial expressions to your liking. But just keep shooting through that initial barrier of awkward. For me, I took around 90 shots in this session, and narrowed it down to two that I liked the best. Considering that I did these on a whim and didn't plan ahead in the least bit, I'd say that's a pretty darn good ratio.

Do I consider myself a decent model? Not even close. Nor do I consider my viewpoints of self-portraits pushing one's creative boundaries to be a universal principle. But in a self-portrait session, you call all the shots. You can be whatever you want to be, and be whoever you wish to communicate to the rest of the world. Dress up as a superhero or a dock worker, or don a tux. Do something original and creative that reflects who you are, and what you can do. That's how you do a self-portrait right. Oh, and a tripod helps too.

When I first decided to switch out of the Pentax family early this year, my main focus was on Sony. I had been an early adopter of the NEX-5, though I couldn't justify keeping it when finances got tight. The NEX-7 had eluded the markets in Fall 2011 due to the floods in Thailand, but rumors persisted it would be released soon. Still, I wasn't sure I could use the NEX-7 as a full-time camera for professional shoots, as its size and layout is much more suited for a travel/street/journalism shooter than a studio/portraits/weddings sort of shooter. As I did more research on the matter, I realized that the A77 offered the same sensor in an SLT configuration, of which many Sony-proponents assured the translucent mirror did not degrade the image quality more than 1/3rd of a stop. Better yet, you could get the same sensor in the A65, which mainly got rid of the A77's weather sealing and battery grip capabilities (which I figured I could live without). Long story short: I took the plunge in a masterfully-conceived plan to incrementally buy/sell my gear over the course of a month without impacting any scheduled shoots, and to stay within the confines of my measly credit limit. And almost immediately, I began to regret my choice.

Above: Photographs showing before/after shot from Pentax K-5 (using Sony's 16mp sensor) at ISO 1600, extreme adjustments made to exposure/shadows/blacks. Shadows retain detail without becoming too muddy, even with noise reduction.

Don't get me wrong--I thoroughly enjoy both the Alpha and NEX lines, and I plan on sticking with Sony for quite some time. But the A65's capabilities were simply not up to par, especially when compared to the Pentax K-5 I was switching from. To keep non-Pentaxians in the loop: The K-5 has the same(ish) 16mp Sony-made sensor as the Nikon D7000, Sony NEX-5n/c3, A55/57, A580, so on and so forth. I say "ish" because each of these sensors are calibrated slightly differently, yielding different performance scores (with the 5n/57 possibly being a newer generation...debates go back and forth on this topic all the time). When I bought the K-5 at launch, it was basically the best-performing APS-C sensor camera on the market, and it certainly didn't let me down in that regards. So why did I switch out of the Pentax family? One word: backfocusing.

The K-5's phase-detect autofocus sensor was (and still is) infamous for front/backfocusing under different lighting conditions. If I calibrated a lens to focus perfectly while shooting outside, I could get constant and considerable backfocusing while shooting in the studio later that night, or at a bar the next day, or an event the next. It got so bad that, for the last few events I shot on the K-5, I actually used the live-view function 80% of the time, simply to take advantage of the spot-on contrast-detect autofocus that it offered. That why, when switching out, I decided that focus performance was my top priority. And in this regard, the Sony A65 certainly did not let me down. Though naysayers mock Sony's SLT technology (and sometimes rightfully so), the EVF on the A65 combined with a fantastic focus mechanism led to spot-on focusing and snappy performance in nearly every situation. Beyond that, however, the A65 is a very flawed camera in many ways which are often overlooked in most reviews.

I purchased the A65 in February 2012, and in the course of two months, I shot a fair amount of paid work on the camera. While it worked great under some circumstances, my experiences shooting ISO 1600+ at a friend's wedding a week or so ago ended up being the final straw. It wasn't the first time I'd shot that high under low-light settings, nor did I have any particularly important use for the photographs (since I was just there shooting for fun). But my frustration at trying to get a usable image from a RAW file that theoretically would be easy as pie to edit (had it come from my K-5) was simply infuriating. Beyond that, I had gotten pretty fed up with the lag that the A65 produces when trying to change simple setting like aperture and exposure. An update in March did help speed things up a bit, but it still felt like you were trying to operate the camera in a zero-gravity environment or something. The interface was ever-so-slightly sluggish enough to make everything feel bogged down and slow, as opposed to the instantaneous dial feedback I was accustomed to from every single DSLR I'd owned up to that point. A couple days later, I found a listing on KEH for an A580 kit in like-new condition for $695 (on a free-shipping weekend too, to make things even better). I was sold.

I've only had the A580 for roughly a day, but within an hour or so, I knew it would be a keeper. Physically speaking, it's actually somewhat larger than the K65 (and much larger than the K-5). It's body is still made out of plastic, though it feels slightly heftier and more substantial in your hand than the A65. The buttons on it are snappier, with some producing more of a sharp "click" sensation than others (as opposed to the A65's array of mostly "muted" button). And the flip-out screen, though it can't be flipped in on itself nor flipped around for self-portraits, feels much sturdier (with fewer frustrations when mounted on a tripod). The OVF on the A580 is actually much smaller than the EVF on the A65, which is comparatively large (and always bright) thanks to its inherent nature. In all seriousness, the photo to the left doesn't do it justice. Still, I prefer the layout of having the old-school status/indicators along the bottom of the OVF on the A580, than having to look around the screen on the EVF to reference what settings I'm on (which can get overwhelming, though it's somewhat adjustable). I also got accustomed to being able to review my images in the EVF on the A65, though playback on the A580 via its LCD screen seems to be much more responsive than the A65 in general. In terms of "professional" features, it's also worth mentioning that the battery life on the A580 is rated to be MUCH higher than that of the A65, with 1050 shots compared to 510 (both figures from Sony, measured in "viewfinder mode"). The A580 also supports adding a battery grip, which would effectively double those figures (I have a cheap 3rd party grip on its way, I'll review it once it gets here).

Going back to the question of RAW performance, the "usability" of RAW files shot at ISO 1600 and above is simply atrocious in comparison to Sony's 16mp sensor. In regards to the K-5's noise performance at higher ISOs, I once read a comment stating that even though the K-5's RAW files were somewhat noisy at ISO 3200/6400, the noise patterns were incredibly "usable," and had "so much information" packed into the images that one could easily tweak a few settings and come out with a gorgeous image, even under the worst circumstances. Though I'm not sure if there's a better, less metaphysical way to put this criteria into technical terms, it's true. The images produced by the K-5 (and similarly the A580, as I've found) are extremely forgiving. Tweak a few sharpness/noise reduction settings in Lightroom, and you can easily use ISO 3200 in many commercial shoots. The K-5/A580's RAW files are also very forgiving when changing exposure/contrast/shadow levels at high ISOs, so much so that when I first tried to edit an ISO 3200 file from my A65, I was half convinced I accidentally shot it as a jpeg. If you've never had a camera with Sony's 16mp sensor in it before, and you're accustomed to a more "standard" criteria of high ISO performance, then the upgrade to an A65 might not be as much of a shock. Heck, in comparison to the 12.4mp Pentax K-x I owned before the K-5, I would have considered the A65 a slight upgrade at the least. Still, when it comes to real-world editing, the A65's high ISO performance leaves much to be desired.

Here's a quick image I took, both at the same aperture/shutter speed. White balance set to the same in post. A65 is on the left, A580 is on the right. Exposure/contrast/clarity/shadows all raised equal amounts. Noise reduction/sharpness were set independently on both, with the goal of getting them as clean as possible without becoming muddy. In retrospect, I could have actually done a lot more noise reduction on the A580's image while maintaining detail. It seems that the main difference here is the size of the noise, and color shift in the shadows. The A65 has a serious problem with purple-hued shadows, which is made worse by the muddiness of its noise. While I have no technical way of proving it, the A580's sensor simply produces "finer grain" noise, which Adobe's noise-reduction algorithms have a much easier time dealing with.

Above: Photograph shot with the A65 at ISO 800. Unlike the Pentax K-5 night shots from above (which were shot at ISO 1600), I had limited control adjusting the shadows before muddy noise took over. This was the best result I could muster.

So what IS the A65 good for? A lot of things, actually. The 24mp sensor, while noisy at higher ISOs, nevertheless produces gorgeous results in daylight/studio circumstances. With that much resolution at your fingertips, you gain incredible cropping power. There were times when I shot a photograph at landscape orientation that, once I got to post, I could easily crop into portrait and still end up with an incredible amount of detail and resolution. Additionally, for circumstances like daylight portrait and studio shooting, the focus accuracy of the A65 was hard to beat (at least in my experiences). Paired with the Tamron 17-50mm f2.8 lens, the vast majority of photos I took in any given shoot were spot-on in terms of focus, to the point where I didn't even know this lens could physically be this sharp. For whatever reason, the focus speed seems to be improved as well. My Tamron 70-200mm f2.8 beast of a lens, known to be a slow focuser, actually performs beautifully on the A65. I've even gotten remarks from fellow shooters of the focus speed and general lack of hunting. In some ways, shooting with the 70-200 on the A580 seems to be a downgrade of sorts, as I am now experiencing the gist of the "slow focus" complaints that reviews of that lens usually garner.

Above: Crop (not 100%) of a studio shot taken with the A65. While there's plenty of detail, some of it is still ended up a bit muddy after adjustments left the shadows too noisy,even at ISO 100.

So my advice is this: If the vast majority of what you shoot doesn't involve low-light circumstances, and you need the boost in video features and focus accuracy, go for the A65. Or better yet, you might want to have a look at the A57, which packs Sony's 16mp sensor into the A65's body (sans GPS and a few other features), albeit with that 30% light decrease from the SLT mirror. Otherwise, consider grabbing an A580 while you can, as it will most likely be Sony's last OVF offering.

Are my methods for comparison perfect? No. Far from it. One could easily argue that this entire process was more of a poor critique of my shooting/editing styles, or that I simply expect too much editing potential from RAW files. I don't hate the A65 by any means, and I still believe it is a wonderful camera. But it just doesn't suit my purposes, in regards to both my workflow and the editing legroom I'm accustomed to. To each his/her own, I guess. As for me, while I'm planning on keeping the A580 for work purposes, I'm still lusting over the NEX-7. Despite my complaints about its sensor (though noise performance does seem to be improved with the lack of translucent mirror), I just love the form factor it provides. Give me a NEX-7 with the new Sigma 30mm f2.8 lens, and I'll be a happy camper...at least until the next best thing comes along.

Presidential candidate Ron Paul waits in his vehicle prior to entering the stage during a gathering at the University of California, San Diego

Regardless of the fact that I was a pretty decent distance from his vehicle, and that I had to hold up my camera with its massive lens high above the crowd to even avoid getting an obscured shot, Ron Paul just happened to glance at my camera during the exact moment that I pressed the shutter button. And glance might be an understatement. At full size, it's clear that Ron Paul's face has some motion blur on it, a function of the fact that he wasn't posing for my camera in the least bit. Still, regardless of his or my intention at this specific moment in time, the outcome is a one-in-a-million photograph that I can add to my collection.

The rarity of such a photograph is also interesting in the context of the current age of digital communication that we live in. Nowadays, with the prevalence of smartphones and easy-to-use pocketable cameras, few people travel about without a camera on their person. Did Ron Paul catch a glance at me because my lens stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd of cameraphones? Or was it a fluke of nature, a "right place at the right time" sort of deal? I'm not sure. And I'm not sure if there's any way to ever be sure. Herein lies the difficulty in giving any sort of advice about capturing the perfect "lucky shot"--it's all about luck, plain and simple. There are things you can do to improve your odds at capturing a great photograph, like equipping yourself with the proper gear, or attending events where you'll have a chance to take interesting photos, but anything more is often out of your control. The best weapon at your disposal is your own will to get out there and take photos. Now that cameras have become so commonplace, however, it seems somewhat odd that so many "non-photographers" are willing to go out and take photographs everywhere they go, whereas many photographers find it much easier to stay at home and hoard over their gear (myself included, more often than not).

If this is the case, then what's the point of spending the entire rally holding your cell phone high in the air to record a speech given by a public figure that you know full-well will be available online by the time you get home? Well, there's no easy answer. Everyone has their own motivations, and whether or not they can articulate or pinpoint their specific intent is irrelevant. In my own case, the reason I spent the entire rally holding up a heavy camera (and taking over six hundred photos in the process) was a blatant desire to capture a shot that I could add to my portfolio. For others in the crowd, photographs might serve a communicative purpose, wherein an individual might snap a photograph on a phone and tweet it out moments later. Still, for many individuals, the reason to capture an event already inundated with cameras comes down to memory. A photograph can act as a marker, a personal statement saying "I was there." Even if this photo is never printed or shared, and merely lives in a virtual album on the user's mobile phone, it still serves as a bookmark of sorts. It is a folded page in the annals of one's own narrative, another stamp in the passport of life.

This past Wednesday, I spent a few hours visiting Julian, California with my buddy Will. On the way back, we stopped at a roadside turnoff I'd passed countless times before, but never really thought to explore. This place, called Inaja Memorial Park, consists of a small parking lot leading up to a short looped trail which offers a stunning view of the Santa Ysabel valley. Located at near the headwaters of the San Diego River, this site serves as a memorial to eleven men who lost their lives while fighting a 1956 forest fire [1]. Though we only stayed for a few minutes as we hiked the short trail, I had a chance to snap a few photos and shoot some b-roll.

Something about the empty (yet slightly hazy) sky led me to capture the negative space of the moment. Photographs like these, though simple and barely exciting, instill a sense of serenity and paradoxical focus. While lacking a true "subject," landscapes favoring negative space often speak volumes to the viewer. There's something inherently simple about a photo in which the vast majority of the frame is filled with either a solid color, or a slight natural gradient. It's modern, yet classic. And at the intersection of these two elements, one can find peace.

During the school year, my ability to go out and take photographs on a whim greatly diminishes. Coupled with the fact that my main camera was out being repaired (but is finally back!), I just didn't take that many photos in January/February. This shot, however, is one of the last frames in a roll of film that took much longer to process than I ever intended. I can't remember exactly when I shot most of these pictures. I vaguely recall the crazy events of that day, and I recall having my camera that night at Extraordinary Desserts, but this image was a pleasant surprise when I finally got around to scanning it in.

You see, this roll stayed in its canister for roughly two weeks before I finally got around to developing it. Then it spent another two weeks or so hanging in my room to dry, a process which actually only took an hour or so to complete before it morphed into being a mere symbol of my laziness. Yet here it is, a photograph from that elusive roll of film. With my main camera back, I can't wait to see what photos dwell in my near future.

Here's a shot from one of the last batches of photos I took with my Pentax K-5, which is currently sitting in a warehouse in Arizona awaiting repair.

If it's not already apparent, I've started to take a new approach to my photography as of late. Though I repurchased supplies in the fall to develop black and white film after a two-year hiatus to digital, only recently have I begun to take advantage of what the medium has to offer. The photograph above was shot en route to Julian, California on a Pentax K1000 with a custom-modded Minolta lens. Those figures in the foreground are cows, by the way.

Maybe it's the chaos. With random bursts of light illuminating San Diego's Christmas on the Prado in historic Balboa Park, well over a hundred thousand people crowded into tight corridors to experience a single snippet of time. Walking around was a chore, and it became nearly impossible to find a place to stop and rest as the night went on. With vendors flanking the walkways, and long lines forming to enter the many museums, all I could think of was photographing the people around me. So many faces, yet so little time.

Some faces were familiar. The street vendor here, a cheerful man with a kind face, was a pleasant surprise. Only a couple of months prior, I had purchased a journal made out of homemade Nepalese paper from him at a swap-meet-style event at my school. Glad to see him and his wares once again, I made sure to stock up on goods made out of this beautiful paper, never sure when I might stumble upon him once more.

For the most part, everyone at this hectic event seemed to be in a similar state of slightly overwhelmed confusion, though most individuals tried to persevere. In such a maze of constant motion, it can be near impossible to stop and smell the roses. To make matters worse, the only roses to be found were wooden ones, sold in bundles at a popular corner stall. Though they looked beautiful and almost real, that last element of life and authenticity was missing. I worked hard to restrain myself from purchasing a bundle of these wooden roses, and I ultimately left the park with a surprisingly minimal amount of unnecessary purchases.

While a crowd might provide for an abundance of photo opportunities, raw human interaction can often be lost in the process. Just over a year ago, the only thing I wanted to do was move to a big city. The dream and allure of a city that never sleeps, and of the crowded existence of urban life, seemed to be such a beautiful and poetic fantasy. But I've since learned of the beauty of solitude and space, and while that wont stop me from going out in the crowd, there's a good chance I'll always return to a more natural state of human life when all is said and done.

One of the greatest things I've discovered in recent years is the invaluable art of pursuing your goals. We all love to put things off until the next day. Or wait for the next chance to arise. Or, better yet, just tell ourselves that now "isn't the right time." But if an opportunity comes up, the best thing you can do is take advantage of it until you've exhausted all your energy. If you're running to the store, grab a camera just in case. If you see an ominous bush in the corner of your eye while closing your eyes on a camping trip, put off sleeping for another ten minutes or so and grab your camera. Better yet, if you don't even own a camera but have longed to take photographs, why not succumb to the next sale you find?

Success takes a whole lot of patience, and a whole lot of luck. It's not often that you manage to capture a meter ripping a hole in the sky while perched on a hill overlooking a shrinking reservoir. But if you didn't have your camera out in the first place, even that slight possibility is erased. As difficult as it might sound, always be ready for the unexpected, and take every chance you can grab ahold of. In the end, it will have been worth it.