I want to join my little penguin friend in wishing you a very Merry Christmas. If you celebrate Hanukkah, like much of my family, then a happy Hanukkah to you. If you celebrate something else, or nothing at all, then I wish you the same: peace, joy, and a new year that is filled with the same. I still celebrate Christmas, and I celebrate hard. It pains me that it’s so commercial, the heart of it being so much the opposite of all we seem to strive for at this time of year. Christmas to me is deeply personal, a celebration of the possibilities and hopes of the deepest longings of our hearts: peace on earth and the making right of all that brings us sorrow. It’s the annunciation of the angel to the world that God sees our tears and chooses not only to wipe them away but to share them. Some days it takes more faith than others to believe. Still, I believe.

2011 was a rough year. Like all years. It was also amazing. I lost, to cancer, a friend who was dear to my heart, and gained others. I mourn her loss, and celebrate the others. I celebrate this world of wonders in which we live, and the fact that not only can I still walk, but I’m still alive. I love this line from a Marc Cohn song: Maybe Life was curious to see what you would do with the gift of being left alive. Indeed. And I celebrate you all, gifts to me from a God whom I still believe to be good and kind, despite evidence to the contrary at times. In this season I am profoundly grateful for what, and whom, I have, both to God and to all those who by choice are gifts in my life. Thank you for every comment, every email. Thank you too for supporting me and my Craft & Vision team; every eBook you buy is a gift to me, keeping me and the 13 other authors and 5 others on my team at least partly fed. Your purchase of my books not only gives me an audience but a livelihood, and I don’t take that for granted, either. From the bottom of my heart thank you. And from all of us over here, we wish you the happiest of holidays, the merriest of Christmasses, and a 2012 filled with peace, joy, health, and the fullness of a life lived in gratitude. Merry Christmas, Friends.

I am a Ninja. Antarctica, 2011. Photo by John Birch

I am officially going off the grid on December 19. No more twitter, FB, blogging, or otherwise. I turn 40 on December 24, and will be offline, cuddled up, and celebrating 40 years. I’ve already got a wallpaper posted for January 01, and that’ll go up as the new year turns on the east coast of North America. From there I’ll post postcards as I can; I’ll be in Ethiopia and Kenya and Tanzania until February 01, then I’ll be back in full force. See you then. And until then, my very best of the season. Cheers!

I think we can all agree that this year went a little sideways. If things had gone to plan I’d have picked Jessie up in Atlanta over a month ago, spun through the Florida Keys, lingered for three weeks, then come up the Eastern seaboard, and back into Canada. By now I’d be heading east toward the Maritimes, finally to Newfoundland for the month of August, and onwards from there. Instead, Jessie is still in Atlanta and I’ll spend August in a rehab facility learning to walk again.

Ah, the clever plans of mice and men, eh? To be sure, it’s still been a hell of an adventure. But many of the things I wanted from it just never happened.

So we’re doing it again.

I had planned to drive Europe in 2012, but I’m sticking around a while, staying on the road, and seeking beauty on this continent for another year. It’ll be a while before I call Vancouver home again. A long while. Nomadic life agrees with me too much; I’m so much liking the idea that home is not a place, it’s people. I hope between now and then there are more chances to meet some of you for coffee, the odd meal, or just a chance encounter while we’re shooting the Golden Gate Bridge together. Give me a couple more months to get walking, and Jessie and I will be back out there, nomadic again.

As soon as I can, (late August?) I’m flying back down to Atlanta, putting the key in the ignition (where the hell are those keys, anyways?) and we’re driving back here to Ottawa to re-group. I’ve got a busy fall so between travels to Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, Mexico, Honduras, Argentina and Antarctica, I’ll have time to re-outfit her and get ready for the next stage, which is, for the most part, heading south again, to see the Florida Keys, then west and I’m planning to really, actually, no screwing around this time, spend some quality time in the West. Arizona. Utah. New Mexico. Wyoming. Colorado, California. I just missed too much this time. Had too little time to photograph what I had hope to, or meet the people I wanted to. Too rushed. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned this year, both in life and art – it’s to SLOW. DOWN.

In the few months on the road with Jessie, I was the most content I’ve been in years and years. In that perfect beautiful place where challenges slightly outstrip my comfort levels. Where all my clothes fit into one duffle bag. Where I woke up to the wilderness and the weather as the sun rose. Where my daily plans are heavily subject to serendipity. And I want to keep doing this. This adventure is too beautiful – even with the broken feet and cracked pelvis – not to keep at it and finish what I started. I’ve never seen with such clarity. Never breathed so deeply. Never met so many people out of the clear blue that I was just genuinely curious about and enjoyed.

THE PART OF THE POST THAT MATTERS
If the fall in Italy gave me one thing, it’s the reminder that life is short and desperately – unpredictably – fragile. Recovery hasn’t come easy, but then neither do our dreams. Whatever it means to you; keep living the dream. We’ve only got one life to live and you’re the only one who’s going to make it happen. Sure the days go by on their own, and too fast, but an intentional life, like a photograph, is something we make. Each day do something, ANYTHING, that gets you closer. Or stop doing something – anything – that stands in your way. If that means traveling the world, or taking the time to go make those photographs you’ve been thinking about, or finally teaching your daughter to use a camera, or finally printing and hanging your work for the world – and you – to see, do it today. Tomorrow is guaranteed to no one.

To change one’s life:  Start immediately.  Do it flamboyantly.  No exceptions.
~William James

Today marks my 1000th post, more if you count some of the drivel I edited out when I moved this blog over from Typepad years ago. I had all kinds of ideas about how to mark this 1000th post, but none of them were exceptionally good, and to be honest all I really want to say is Thank You. I’ve said that a lot lately; I’ve got a great deal to be grateful for, and your kindness, support, comments and readership mean the world to me. This blog has put me in touch with a huge community of amazing people and in turn that community has allowed me to keep building this thing, one post, one eBook, one printed book, at a time.  I’ve met so many of you, emailed others, and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I feel like the luckiest man in the world. Thank you.

Speaking of luck, it doesn’t always hold. 10 weeks ago I fell off that wall in Italy. 10 weeks! Here’s a quick update. I’m now almost 9 weeks post-op after the surgeries to fix my feet. My cracked pelvis is now healed. Every day I’m a step (metaphorically mostly) closer to recovering. Two weeks ago my surgeon cleared me to begin putting weight on my left foot (50%) and in two weeks I can put 100% on that foot and begin putting some weight (25%) on the right.

June 22, 2011, First day on crutches.
Smiling on the outside, scared of falling down on the inside.

Learning to walk again is a terrifying thing, but each day brings a little more confidence and a little less pain. I’m scheduled to be in rehab as an in-patient for much of August, and by the time I get on a plane to Laos, Cambodia, and Thailand in September it’ll be 4+ months, and I’ll likely be traveling light (think Fuji x100, small tripod and an iPad), possibly with a cane.

Somewhere in there I’ve got to get back to Atlanta. I almost feel I left my heart there. Jessie is still there and if there’s one thing that’s been hard about all this it’s knowing that my plans have gone completely sideways. That part’s OK; an adventure that goes to plan isn’t an adventure, it’s just a plan. But the two months I had on the road were among the happiest I’ve ever been. Not easy, but amazing, waking every day to a feeling of “this is what I was created to do.” I miss that adventure and while Jessie sits waiting I’m scheming and filling my poor mother’s home with the expedition gear that will prolong this adventure through 2012 once I’m back in the saddle. Anyways, as this whole thing went in a different direction than planned I’ve decided to spend most of 2012 in the American West, but I’ll take some time getting there this time. And if I can do a whole year without falling off a wall, I’ll spend 2013 in Europe with Jessie or her cousin. But you know me and plans these days, so….

Jessie and I on the first day of our adventure, in Tofino, B.C., back when I could walk and stuff. Can’t tell you how excited I was. Jessie’s parked in Atlanta, and overstaying her welcome, with a friend right now. Sit tight, lass, I’m coming!

Through this I’ve been stunned by your support and kindness, so again, thank you. I am so luck to be alive, so grateful to have avoided paralysis. This whole journey has given me all kinds of unexpected gifts, new friends, profound lessons, time with family, and a deeper appreciation for the grace to live life moment by beautiful moment. I never in a million years imagined that starting this blog would give me what it has. I wanted readers; what I got was colleagues, friends, the odd stalker, and a handful of people that feel suspiciously like family. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Raising my glass to you and hoping you’ll join me for the next 1000.

Actual conversation in Louisiana, somewhere on the bayou. I’ve been thinking about it ever since and suspect- just maybe – the human brain doesn’t do well on the toxic combination of gator, frogs and deep-fry. I do love it here, and the people are great, but this one was too funny not to pass along.

Me: I’m not from around here, what’s in the gator basket?

Long silence…

She: Gator.

Me: Uh huh. And is there anything else in the gator basket?

She: I guess you can have fries or onion rings or baked potato.

Me: Onion rings please. Do you have beer?

She: Yes.

Long silence.

Me: What kind of beer do you have?

She: You know. The usual.

Yet another long silence as I plumb the depths of this woman’s intellect realizing I’ve already seen the bottom far too quickly.

Me: And what might the usual be in these here parts?

She: Oh you know, Bud Light, Coors Light, Miller Li…oh, wait, we’re out of Miller Light.

Me: And do you have anything without the LIGHT in it?

She: Oh, you mean like Bud WISER instead?

Me: Yes. Yes, I do. I will have (in the absence of any real beer) a Bud WISER please.

One last full day here in Jamaica. The sun finally came out and I traded my sweater for swim trunks and my snorkelling gear. Stumbled across Tony who took me out to shoot some staged dive shots while I tried to get on top of the learning curve with underwater shooting. I’ve learned so much over the last week, though haven’t nearly had the time I wanted to work on this stuff. But, man, is it fun. I love making photographs, and I love being in the water, the combination is such fun it makes me giggle (when I’m not inhaling water and trying to clear my mask or fight the bouyancy that my, uh, hmm, extra insulation adds. Next time there will be plates on my casing to drop the bouyancy, and a weight belt for me so I can stay put on the bottom. )

Anyways, heading home tomorrow. Thought I’d drop a line and say hi. Can’t believe another year has always passed. If I get around to it tomorrow I’ll post something introspective about the coming year, etc. I get home just in time to fight for a cab as midnight approaches, then three weeks to prep for Africa, sell some furniture, and get Jessie ready for the trip in March.

Right, off to play with the fishes. Happy New Year’s to all of you.

I am approaching this post with trepidation knowing what kind of strange misplaced fury these issues bring up in some people. If only some people put as much energy into their creative lives, eh? But you are not those people, so that’s why I’m not keeping this to myself. You folks are friends and deserve to know the reasons for my descent into madness. The horror,the horror, etc.

The Short Story.
I’m making a slow transition to Nikon. Nothing to see here. Move along, Citizen.

The Longer Story.
OK, first, let me tell you why I’m even talking about these issues. First, my motto for a long time has been Gear Is Good, Vision Is Better. Some people have latched on so strongly to the last part of that that any mention from me about gear has sent them into an existential funk from which they only recover when I post something about my creative angst. I like gear. Gear is, say it with me folks, good. Without gear we’d be sketching images on napkins. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. My criticism of the photography industry is in the way gear has been sold as a substitute of vision. It’s about the addiction to gear and the belief that it will make us better photographers. It won’t. However, gear is important. If it wasn’t all the people that holler at me about this stuff would be shooting with a Kodak Brownie or old 110 camera, but they aren’t.

Photographs Matter.
Gear is important because it creates the aesthetic which is the expression of our vision. Sensor size affects the look of the photograph. So does the speed and focal length and the quality of your optics. A Tilt/Shift lens does things your 50/1.8 can’t do and never will be able to do. Polarizers and tripods and all this stuff – it affects the image. But let’s remember – it’s the image that matters most, and therefore the tools of its creation also matter.

Brands do not matter.
I am not moving to Nikon because I like the logo better or stopped liking the red stripe of the Canon L-lenses. I am not moving to Nikon because they are cheaper or sexier. My move to Nikon doesn’t mean my Canon bodies stopped working for me, nor that yours will stop working for you. It doesn’t mean you should move to Nikon. This move doesn’t mean I will now refer to myself as a Nikonian any more than I once refered to myself as a Canonista. I snicker at people that use those terms, and so should you. This world has enough meaningless boxes and labels. I am not a Canon Shooter or a Nikon Shooter. I am a photographer, that’s all. Brands don’t matter; photographs do.

The Sigma Factor.
I am moving to Nikon for several reasons. It is starting as a slow transition and I will shoot both systems for a while, even possibly forever, though I doubt it purely for economic reasons. So here’s the deal.

I was approached by Sigma recently and asked if I would consider a sponsorship. They would give me access to their lenses if I would, in return, give them access to some of the images created through those lenses. I had already been thinking about getting a Nikon (reasons to follow) and this seemed like a good chance to do so without selling the farm. Selling the farm for lenses is always a bad idea, in my case it’s an even worse idea, primarily because I have no farm. One of the appeals of Sigma EX lenses is solid quality for considerably less than the pro-lenses from Nikon or Canon, and most of my readers simply can’t afford to buy a box of pro-optics. So this allows me to test and experience and recommend much more affordable lenses. Will I stop using pro-lenses? No. But I think it’s healthy to remember that beauty can be created without the highest level of gear.

My sponsorships are built on honesty and I am in no way obligated to say things about products I wouldn’t say to my own mother. In fact my sponsors know that if they send me crap I will send it right back. My value to them and to you is my honesty. I’ve used Sigma before and am excited to play with some of their optics again, but not once will I recommend you buy something I wouldn’t myself buy and use. There, I said it.

So Why Nikon?
I’m a teacher. I can’t tell you how stupid I feel when a student approaches with a Nikon in her hands and says, Hey how do I…? And I just shrug, looking dazed, and then I point over their shoulders, scream, “Look, there’s Joe McNally, ask him!” and turn tail and run for the hills. So I began this process by deciding to get a Nikon for that reason alone.

And then I started playing with them. There are some things I will miss about Canon, like the big scroll wheel on the back. But you know what, I’m a survivor, I can deal. In my limited experience and from talking to friends who own Nikon, here are some of my reasons. Even if some of these are subjective, I stand by them.

1. Ergonomics. I love the feel of a Nikon. Always have. After a long Pentax phase as a kid I shot Nikon film cameras and loved them.

2. Focus. Sorry, but I fight with Canon focus and even on my 1DsMkIII it struggles more than the Nikons I’ve played with. I know this hurts, but Canon’s just not gaining new ground fast enough. This is a biggy.

3. Low Noise in Low Light. In a word, amazing.

Those three sealed it for me. But here’s two more.

4. The Look. Different cameras, different looks. Not the look of the camera, the look of the photographs. Ya wouldn’t fault a guy from switching film stock, would you? Is the difference noticeable? I think it is. It is a case of one being better? I don’t think so. Just different. My 200mm isn’t better than my 85mm, they’re different. Vive la difference!

5. The small things. I’m out shooting and want to level my Canon? I need a bubble thingy. I want to shoot intervals? I need a $300 cable release that doesn’t even have an off-button. The D3s allows me to drop in 2 x 64gb CF cards and shoot to them in a variety of ways. My Canon 1DsMkIII makes me use 1 CF card and 1 SD card if I want to do that. Retarded. I can use the D3s batteries in the grip of the D700, allowing me to take one set of batteries and charger, not two. Sure, small things, but they matter. Also, rumour has it the flash system on the Nikon isn’t prehistoric.

6. Don’t even get me started on the Canon Explorer of Light thing. Hey, why are you still reading this part? I said don’t get me started.

So together those were enough to sway me. As an artist who relies on his tools full time, both for my own work and the work of clients, making this transition makes sense to me. Is vision still better? Of course it is. Will my photographs suddenly get better? I strongly doubt it. But will it be easier to create those images in the face of the creative and situational constraints that already make photography difficult? I think it will, and that’s worth something to me. Does any of this really matter? Not so much, but c’mon, we all love the tools with which we work, and if we can find tools we enjoy using more, then why not?

Comments are open, because I just know some of you have something to contribute, but if this turns into a debate or fan-boy gathering for either brand I will shut them down faster than hands off a greased pig.

Last night up to my neck in the warm waters off Kho Samed.

Hello from the small island of Kho Samed. I came here last year for a couple days at the end of a 2 week shoot in northern Thailand, and knew I had to come back. So when I had a week to hangout between the Ladakh and Kathmandu workshops, this was the place to be! We’re doing a little shooting, eating a lot of amazing food right on this pier, including breakfast which I am about to go eat before jumping off into the clear blue waters below. When I’m exhausted from all that I settle into the hammock and read Theroux’s Dark Star Safari. Fantastic read.

We’re here another two days then begin making our way to Kathmandu to meet the Kathmandu Within The Frame team for 2 weeks of shooting and learning in Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Bandipur. Can’t wait. Hey, speaking of travelling, and workshops, there are still a couple spaces left for the Tuscany Within The Frame workshop. The others are full, and this one’s filling, but it you want in, you should get in on it sooner than later.

Thanks for your patience with this longer stretch of travel. I know a lot of you enjoy popping in here on the blog and my absence has been a little longer this time. Hope the autumn is being good to you. Watch for a new eBook on Thursday, then updates as I can send them from Kathmandu next week!

I just got a reminder that today is the last day to enter Shutterstock’s 2010 Photo Safari Contest, co-sponsored by B&H Photo and Zozi.  Enter your best travel photo (the prize is a a safari, the photograph doesn’t have to be) for a chance to win a 6-night African Photo Safari Adventure. Once you’ve uploaded your amazing shot, encourage your friends to cast their votes for your pic. I’ll be judging the finalists on May 13th – May 17th, along with my friends Chase Jarvis and Zack Arias and winners will be announced on May 20th. To enter, click HERE.

As with all contests be sure to read the fine print. I’m just helping to judge this one, it’s not my contest, and I haven’t had a look at the rules with a magnifying glass either. But the prize is sweet and if you’re jonesin’ for a fantastic trip to Africa, and you’re cool with the rules, this is a chance at some pretty fun travel. Good luck!

Once in a while I get a notion to stir things up. I do so first for myself, usually only later does it occur to me to share the idea. But this is not that time. I’m too busy with doing other things and sadly it’s a reality that being a working photographer often means more work and less photographering. Right now it’s one of those times. I am in Ontario right now and I’ve shot 12 frames – all of the family cat. These are not my proudest hours.

Months ago I published TEN, Ten Ways To Improve Your Craft, None of Them Involve Buying Gear. It was, and still is a best-seller. But I should have done two things. 1. I should have come up with a shorter subtitle. 2. I should have prefaced it with an even shorter eBook. I here present the proposed content.

Proposed Title: ONE, One Way To Improve Your Craft Without Buying Gear.

Proposed Content: Stop buying gear.

That’s it. And as I don’t know anyone willing to shell out $5 for this advice, I’m just giving it away. Want more? Here’s the expanded content:

The single best thing you can do for your photography in the broadest strokes, is to stop buying gear.

Stop it. Stop looking at the catalogs. Stop reading the reviews.

Just, for the love of Diane Arbus, stop it.

Now grab the nearest camera. And the lens that’s on it. And go make some photographs. Now do it again. And again. And again. Do this for a month, a year if you can manage to stay away from the addiction that long. Do it so long that you don’t even know – or care – about the specs of the newest offering from Canon or Nikon. Do it so long that you no longer care that a faster lens would be sexier and convince your friends that you’re serious about your craft. Do it so long that you care more for the image than you do for the chatter about gear. Do it so long that you fall in love with photographing, not just the gear.

Then, if you must, pick up the catalogs again, and re-subscribe to your favourite magazines. The gear is good, so lest anyone comment about me hating gear or being gearophobic (hey, some of my best friends are gear!) let me re-iterate that there’s nothing wrong with the gear. Nothing wrong with poppies either but an opium addiction will probably sideline you pretty good. Hear me on this rare soapbox (rare because it’s shortish, not because it’s a soapbox): all the new gear and fancy tutorials, all the books and exotic workshops, all of it can be helpful. But it can also be a counterfeit for the real deal; the act of going out and making image after image after image, for the love of it, and with a critical eye and teachable spirit. Getting discouraged? Chuck it all and go make some photographs. Purge the voices from your head, close the magazines, and go make some photographs. Just you, one camera, one lens, and your muse. Don’t show it to others, don’t post it on Flick or blog about it. Just you. Your camera. Your muse. Once you love the images more than the feedback, and the “wow, great shot!”s and the new-gear smell, and the site of the UPS man on your porch, then you’re back where you started: in love with creating actual photographs. And I guarantee two things – you’ll enjoy your photographs more, and the images will be better.

Me. Happily in Suck-Mode in Kenya. Man I miss Africa! The image has nothing whatsoever to do with the post so don’t go looking for deeper meanings. Sometimes a photograph is just filler, ya know?

During the Q&A time at Amazon the other day a guy in the audience asked me a question. It must have been very complicated because I’ve completely forgotten the specifics. What I can’t forget is how he prefaced the question. He began by telling me he was an amateur and “still in suck-mode.”

Made me laugh.

But as we used to say in the comedy world, it’s funny ’cause it’s true. Suck-Mode.  Baby, we’re all still in suck-mode and here’s why.

1. Your vision or intention for your images is fired by your imagination and your emotions. It’s also fueled by expectations and the desire to express yourself better than you currently do. The fact that so many talented photographers out there shoot such beautiful work in their sleep doesn’t help.

2. The technology with which we collaborate to create our photographs is always changing, always has a learning curve attached to it for which few of us have the time to to tackle, AND is profoundly limited to begin with. That’s what makes it so much fun. But what we want from our images is often several steps ahead of either the limits of our gear or the limits of our craft.

And so we often look at our own work and see it through the “this all sucks” filter. Doesn’t help that we compare ourselves to others who in turn seem to be comparing themselves to us. But this is not necessarily a bad thing. It doesn’t exclude the need or ability to still love our work or be confident in its creation. In comedy we used to say that “everyone needs a place to suck.” It gave us the freedom to try, to risk, to fail without repercussions. We ALL need a place to suck. It’s from that place that I suspect our best work can eventually grow.

As I said, you can still love your work, can still be confident that you are growing as a craftsman and an artist. But the place of humility that you need to acknowledge the Suck Mode to begin with can be a powerful ally in creation. Embrace it. We all suck. Now go take some risks, cause hey, if it’s going to suck anyways, what do you have to lose by trying harder, taking risks, and throwing caution to the wind? It’s when you think your work is hot sh*t, as they say, that you risk plateauing. And also people stop wanting to play with you. Embrace sucking, you’ll feel better about yourself and your work, and ironically, your work will probably suck less. That’s my hope, anyways

As an aside, I got in trouble when I was a child for saying something “sucked.” Hopefully the expression now holds a more accepted, less crude, meaning for most people that it will not offend. If it does, suck it up and refrain from leaving a comment. My mother’s got your back and I’m probably already grounded without dinner.