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Donec gravida posuere arcu. Nulla facilisi. Phasellus imperdiet. Vestibulum at metus. Integer euismod. Nullam placerat rhoncus sapien. Ut euismod. Praesent libero. Morbi pellentesque libero sit amet ante. Maecenas tellus. Maecenas erat. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas.

Donec gravida posuere arcu. Nulla facilisi. Phasellus imperdiet. Vestibulum at metus. Integer euismod. Nullam placerat rhoncus sapien. Ut euismod. Praesent libero. Morbi pellentesque libero sit amet ante. Maecenas tellus. Maecenas erat. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas.

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Hi there! I’m a bike messenger by day, aspiring actor by night, and this is my blog. I live in Los Angeles, have a great dog named Jack, and I like piña coladas. (And gettin’ caught in the rain.)

…or something like this:

The XYZ Doohickey Company was founded in 1971, and has been providing quality doohickeys to the public ever since. Located in Gotham City, XYZ employs over 2,000 people and does all kinds of awesome things for the Gotham community.

Pellentesque vel dui sed orci faucibus iaculis. Suspendisse dictum magna id purus tincidunt rutrum. Nulla congue. Vivamus sit amet lorem posuere dui vulputate ornare. Phasellus mattis sollicitudin ligula. Duis dignissim felis et urna. Integer adipiscing congue metus.

Nam pede. Etiam non wisi. Sed accumsan dolor ac augue. Pellentesque eget lectus. Aliquam nec dolor nec tellus ornare venenatis. Nullam blandit placerat sem. Curabitur quis ipsum. Mauris nisl tellus, aliquet eu, suscipit eu, ullamcorper quis, magna. Mauris elementum, pede at sodales vestibulum, nulla tortor congue massa, quis pellentesque odio dui id est. Cras faucibus augue.

Pellentesque vel dui sed orci faucibus iaculis. Suspendisse dictum magna id purus tincidunt rutrum. Nulla congue. Vivamus sit amet lorem posuere dui vulputate ornare. Phasellus mattis sollicitudin ligula. Duis dignissim felis et urna. Integer adipiscing congue metus. Nam pede. Etiam non wisi. Sed accumsan dolor ac augue. Pellentesque eget lectus. Aliquam nec dolor nec tellus ornare venenatis. Nullam blandit placerat sem. Curabitur quis ipsum. Mauris nisl tellus, aliquet eu, suscipit eu, ullamcorper quis, magna. Mauris elementum, pede at sodales vestibulum, nulla tortor congue massa, quis pellentesque odio dui id est. Cras faucibus augue.

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My goals for 2012

• Publish an e-Book (Status: barely started… but see 2013 goals)
• Explore the camera settings to a greater degree (Status: solid progress)
• Set up a storefront and sell prints more regularly (Status: nope)
• Publish daily to my photoblog (Status: marginal progress)
• Improve Aperture library organization tactics (Status: vastly better than 2011, but continuing to work on this)
• Setup robust backup plan (Status: vastly better than 2011, but continuing to work on this)

My stats for the year

• I shot 13,114 photos, about 3,000 less than last year. The good news is that I feel like I generally had a technically improved year. My ratio of crap to quality was much improved over last year.
• My top camera/lens combo: Nikon D7000 + Nikkor 18-200mm… amusing since I’ve largely walked away from this camera in the second half of the year to use my second place camera…
• My second place camera/lens combo, unsurprisingly, was the Olympus OMD E-M5 + Olympus 75mm.
• iPhone pics… not sure on this one, actually, since I’ve only recently started pulling iPhone pics into my Aperture library. I’ll be tracking this in 2013, but I know I certainly took a metric ton of iPhone pics.

My top photo news stories of the year

• Mars rover sends back tons of amazing pictures…literally from a world away.
• The NPAA recaps their top photojournalism stories of the year. A good recap of some important stories.

I’m fascinated with vintage photography. Not really the means of taking it; I like my modern DSLR and have no interest in trying my hand at old school film cameras. What I love about vintage photography is the story: how did the photo I’m looking at get made? How well was it taken care of over the years? Did someone affix it to their refrigerator or send it to a loved one hundreds of miles away?

I’ve been spending a great deal of time lately creating “faux vintage photos” from modern photography, in particular around WWII themes. (link, link) As I’ve shared these images online and with friends, I’ve been fascinated to hear the various opinions about what makes a “vintage” photo a good one. Some people believe that representing a WWII photo is about grunge, others believe it’s simply about adjusting for color fade over time. Still others believe that it’s not about accurate history, but about artistic interpretation.

Since there are so many varying opinions, and because this exercise is so much fun, I am issuing a challenge! The goal of this challenge is to create the best representation of a photo taken in 1943 using a photo taken in 2012.

1. Download this RAW file of a WWII reenactor

2. Apply any amount of post-processing you like. Filters, programs, effects, adjustments, whatever you like, go to town.

3. Post your image on the thread in the SMUG Facebook group. Your submission must include two things: a brief description of what you did to the image and a brief “story” that talks about how the image got in the state it is in. (Bonus for creativity!)

4. The deadline is Tuesday, August 7.

Here’s the best part: there are prizes!

• $10 iTunes gift card
• 11×14 ThinWrap (including block or easel) from Bay Photo
• Recognition of your stunning victory in front of countless Austin photographers

This challenge is being driven together with Alex Suarez and the Austin SMUG group. Alex and I will be acting as the first pass judges, selecting our top 3 choices. From there, the SMUG group will vote a favorite.

This challenge is as much about telling a story as it is making a cool photo. If you want to beat the photo up, that’s great… just make sure to tell us how it came to be in that state!

Good luck and have fun!

But today, that solitary activity has unfolded into a massively connected adventure. We have resources galore at our finger tips; from books that are cheaper to print and easier to buy to internet discussions that dive deep into details that matter. As I’ve worked on learning the finer points of photography, I’ve leaned on people I’ve only “met” online, books that I’ve ordered off of Amazon.com and downloaded to my iPad, and from asking many, many questions to an audience of distant, kind hearted supporters. I’ve learned more about photography in a shorter period of time than I ever could have dreamed of when I tried learning it 15 years ago.

Today, I read with great frustration Scott Bourne’s latest blog post.

Neil Leifer is considered one of the greatest sports photographers of all time. His picture of Ali standing over Sonny Liston is the epitome of iconic. It’s one of the most memorable sports photographs ever. And there’s a lesson I want to teach from it.

It’s not about the process.

Do you know what brand of camera Neil used back then? We know he shot film. What kind? What speed? What was the aperture and shutter speed? Who developed the film? Did they use any special developer chemicals? Where did he get prints made? What type of paper? What type of enlarger?

These are the kinds of questions most of my audience would ask today – but they’d have a more modern spin. Aperture or Lightroom? What plug-ins? etc.

First off, let me agree with Bourne; taking a great photo is not all about the process. If not for Leifer’s keen eye for composition and timing, this photo might have been a solid, but not at all iconic snapshot. And yes, today it’s fairly easy to get caught up in over thinking one camera or lens versus another.

But let’s be realistic: taking a great photo absolutely includes “the process”. If you look at the Ali photo in question, you’ll notice great color, balanced lighting, a wonderfully darkened background, and other successful “process” oriented elements. What I notice from highly experienced photographers is lack of understanding of what may be muscle memory for them is still a huge struggle for the rest of us. The idea that Leifer didn’t think about those settings, didn’t include them in his capture process, is ludicrous. As is the idea that many, many students of photography (not just lovers of sports) didn’t and don’t have interest in exactly those things settings and details.

Nobody cares which camera or film or shutter speed Neil used to make this image – it’s the IMAGE that counts. It’s about the impact of capturing a moment in time that will live on forever. It’s about a photo that will live on past all of us. The processes used won’t even be known to people generations from now who see the picture. All that they will know is that in the 1960s, a boxer named Ali dominated and the moment was captured for generations that will follow to see.

Actually… I do! As I would imagine a great many aspiring photographers would. For a highly skilled, highly talented photog like Bourne, it’s easy to wave a hand and brush away the importance or interest of the details. They’re second nature to him. But for us mere mortals, understanding details helps us learn. Seriously now, imagine a Tour de France first timer asking Lance Armstrong for advice on how he could be so successful in that race and having Armstrong say “don’t worry about the details, it’s all in your head”. Actually, understanding when the best times to gear up/down are, or how to best deal with the road surface and the hills, or ways to better communicate with your road crew are what help make a win happen!

At no time have I ever heard him [Leifer] talking film stock or developer or shutter speed. Instead, he talks about the relationship he had with the moment and the man – Ali.

Talking with whom, exactly? You, Mr. Bourne, and expert photographer who no longer needs or finds interest in that type of detail? Or with the reporters who have interviewed him about the photo who weren’t interested in details but in historical context? Of course he didn’t.
But even for Leifer, decades ago or today, I’d be willing to bet that he got all photo nerdy with the dudes at the local print shop. Or when he talks to photography students.

I hear the message that Bourne is (I think) trying to get at: stop spending so much time obsessing about settings and equipment choices and start thinking about/shooting/capturing emotion and beauty around you. And this is a great and correct message.

But Mr. Bourne, let me give you a message as well: The discussion you so easily dismiss is what we mere mortals need in order to learn; that discussion is what helps us bond with our fellow photographers; that knowledge and understanding is what helps us gain confidence about our own settings choices. Yes, it’s easier than ever before to obsess about “the process”, but that’s not a bad thing. If we’re learning, connecting, and enjoying, who cares what we’re using as a way to make those things happen?

Whether you admit it or not, the more you use your camera, your flash heads, your light modifiers, the more you find comfort in knowing how to use them, the quirks of how they work, and even where to find them in your camera bag. Don’t believe me? Ask a photographer to tell you about their camera sometime and see if you can end the conversation in less than 20 minutes. I dare ya. So when something goes wrong with our gear, we feel it more than a broken water pipe at home or a printer at work on the fritz. Our gear is…well, as anyone who’s shot more than 10,000 photos knows, an extension of ourselves. When it breaks, we want to fix it. And we want to know what was wrong, what was done, and if we should be on the look out for similar problems.

Basically, we want to be involved in the process of bring life back to our gear. Rather than trying to avoid this emotional connection, you’d think a company like Nikon would be trying to stoke that feeling. After all, the more emotionally connected to your gear you are, the more likely you’re going to do all the things Nikon wants you to do: stay with their system, buy new gear, upgrade existing gear, and talk about how you could have only captured those images on Nikon. As my recent experience with Nikon Repair reminded me (I’ve been through this process before), Nikon doesn’t seem to have the slightest desire for anything but getting my money and closing my ticket.

A few weeks back, I sent in my Nikon SB-800 flash to get repaired. I’d bought it for a good price off a seller on Craigslist, and while it worked, it had always fired a bit strangely. I’d never been able to put my finger on a specific pattern for the problem, but there was a number of occasions where it just behaved incorrectly. After a recent shoot where I couldn’t seem to get the unit to respond like it was supposed to and narrowing the issue to the SB-800, I sent it to Nikon repair. It was out of warranty, so I expected to pay some money for the repair.

A few days after Nikon Service received it, I got physical letter stating that I needed to call and give authorization for the repair. (Note: they had my email address too, but chose to send only a physical letter) So I picked up the phone and was soon talking to a customer service rep who needed a credit card number to charge me a repair fee. I asked her, “Oh, so that must mean you found something wrong”. Nope, they just wanted to get my credit card first before they went digging around. Fair enough; I could see how Nikon wouldn’t want to do the repairs before they ensured themselves payment. About 7 days after this call, my SB-800 arrived home with the invoice shown below.

I’m pretty sure that they didn’t, in fact, repair anything. But I have no clue.  The line “No problem found”, I assume refers to the entire process, not the “CKD IMAGE TEST” line that appears before it. Take a look at this invoice. This is the only contact Nikon made with me (and it was only included in the box when they sent my flash head back). No follow-up questions, no desire to ensure they’d fully heard my concerns. And more importantly, no support of the fact that there is no support for the emotional bond that I have with my gear.

Imagine going to a hospital with your child who needs surgery. After the doctor performs the surgery, he comes out and says to you “Insurance claim KRD filed. Surgery complete. Surgery level RX1. Total cost: $5326.23″. You’d be furious and confused, wouldn’t you?

As companies grow in size, they necessarily grow in complexity. And as complexity and scale are increased, an almost certain casualty is empathy for the customer. It’s easy to lose track of what a customer wants or needs, or even how they feel when you have more pressing concerns like how you need to adjust your call center to meet increasing demand while continuing to push for lower costs per call. I fully understand the desire and the need to focus on quality vs. time spent ratios as a core customer care metric.

It makes sense that a goal of the service process should be to reduce the amount of time needed to provide a quality response. But customer care teams also need to be considering the impact of their process on the emotional bonds of a customer too. I’m happy to spend the necessary money (whether or not there was a problem to fix or if I was just covering Nikon’s time to deal with something that wasn’t faulty), but I want to be part of the process too. I don’t want to hear that it was in a “Service Repair Rank 1″. I have no idea what that means, and it’s ridiculous to think I should be expected to.

At this point, Nikon is just a cold corporate entity to me. It’d be easy to switch to another camera maker (and I already have with the Olympus E-P3). I don’t feel any particular allegiance to Nikon, and after this repair process (the third time I’ve gone through this), I realize that if they don’t care about me, I don’t need to care about them.

But fixing this broken emotional bond isn’t rocket science:

1. Change the language of these invoices and status tracking tools to be understandable by customers, not service techs. “Service Repair Rank B1″ means nothing to me.
2. Give customer care reps the room and the requirement to spend a few minutes recapping the problem with the customer before a repair and/or after a lack of problems is found.
3. Build service processes (or really any kind of customer care processes) that are specifically charged with more than just repairs. Is your customer care team being assessed on criteria like positive word of mouth?
4. Personalize the Nikon experience. Who worked on my repair? What is their name or location or interest in photography? Sure some of this might be more theater than reality, but even a name of who conducted the repair would be better than “Service Repair Rank B1″…whatever that means.
5. Find better ways of engaging and/or advising customers if there’s no problem found. You make me feel like an idiot when you send me back my flash without telling me what’s wrong. Perhaps you could include some info or a URL that describes common misunderstandings or FAQs about that product. Maybe something is still broken, but maybe I’m just not using it right. Helping me solve my problems, rather than solely thinking about closing your ticket and charging my card makes me feel like you’re here for me, not for you.
6. Find ways to bring the voice of the customer inside the organization. It’s easy to forget what it’s like to only have access to a limited amount of equipment. It’s easy to forget that customers aren’t spending 8+ hours a day repair your product. There’s still magic in it for them.
7. Rethink the packaging and printed materials. Shipping me a plain cardboard box with my gear wrapped in nothing but bubble wrap is boring. It’s an exciting day when my long-lost gear returns home. Make me excited for the unboxing. I know this seems to be a hard concept for any technology company to grasp, other than Apple, but seriously, beautiful packaging is an emotional driver and easy to do.

And yes, I’m sure there are many reasons why some of the things above won’t work at Nikon (or another big company). I’m sure there was a natural evolution of internal need that yield the results we see today. So what? When you aren’t supporting an emotional bond to your product/service, you’re asking for customers to leave you for someone who will.

And what about you? Have you had to experience service like this and been left feeling similarly wanting? How could Nikon (or other camera makers) better appeal to your emotional connection to their products?