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Posted on 17th July 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Photo equipment
Ed Hawco mentioned in the comments to Ctein's last post that PDN has an article in this month's issue entitled The iPad: A Portfolio Revolution? by Jacqueline Tobin. I haven't seen it, and it's not online (except for PDN subscribers), but I did have a brief encounter recently with an iPad as a portfolio. I mentioned having lunch with Jack Macdonough, who showed me his Leica S2. I wrote about that encounter already. Jack also handed me a book across the table that he said was "two portfolios, old and new." The small book had paper prints bound into it. At the end, past all the prints, stuck into the back pocket of the binder itself, was an iPad.
Among other things, Jack showed me TOP on the iPad—very sporty!
But mainly, it was indeed impressive as a way to look at pictures. The screen is very nice, albeit effectively even glossier than Cibachrome, which I found a tad disconcerting with black-and-white pictures. At first. I'd probably have to invest ten minutes to get used to that. Nicest, of course, is the effortless manner of "flipping" from one picture to the next with a swipe of the finger (although, predictably, the device didn't like my finger and didn't always flip when I asked it to. That's the story of me and computers, ever since Kemeny and Kiewit, right there).
 Jack showing off his work on his iPad. He likes a narrow white border around his pictures, as did I.
Of course, it's not just for formally showing portfolios—the news there is just that it's good enough to serve that purpose, without risking making a professional look less-than-professional. But the broader news is that it's a great way to show your pictures to anybody, in many situations—or just to look at them yourself.
Jack mentioned that if Apple wanted to build an iPad that was larger by half, photographers would go for in a big way. I agree, although by that time we might be pulling away from the mass market needed to support the product. Maybe, with millions sold already, an even larger "photographer's model" (the "iPad Pro"? And that one would have an SDHC slot) might be in the future—which would be icing on an already very nice cake.
Mike
(Thanks to Jack)
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Original contents copyright 2010 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved.
Featured Comment by Jeffrey Goggin: "If Kindle can find a market for its plus-size reader, then surely Apple can do the same for a plus-size iPad?" Mike replies: I'm not really the best person to talk about this—I don't even use the laptop I have, and an iPad is not in my future—but I guess what I'd really like to see is an iPad specifically for photographers. Start with a larger size, and add a large enough hard drive and suitable card slots that it could double as a storage drive, like the Epson P-6000.... 
Posted on 15th July 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography |Software
Ctein, Photo equipment
 My laptop screen is sporting the same arrangement of Photoshop palettes
as I use at home when I've got it connected up to my large Apple Cinema
Display. The iPad is sitting in landscape orientation on its iSee stand
with the Pogo pen in front of it.
By Ctein
As soon as I read the detailed specifications for the iPad, I had a suspicion that most people were ignoring one of its more notable features: namely, that it was likely to be sporting the best display that had ever been put into a portable device.
The day they came out, in early April, my friend Mark Richards bought one. He showed it to me that weekend. I pulled up some difficult-to-render photographs from my website and pixel-peeped like mad. The iPad had a near-studio-quality display. (Truth is I've seen studio displays that were worse; I'm just very fussy.) The iPad held gamma well with changing viewing angle, and if it wasn't running full 24-bit color with no dithering, it was faking it well enough that I couldn't tell.
I commented that if only there was a way to run Photoshop on these things, I'd buy one in a minute. When I'm away from home, I'm stuck with doing my photographic work on a laptop computer. Laptop computer displays suck. I don't understand how people can do serious photographic work on them. I make do when I'm in the field, but only for rough editing and corrections; it's impossible to see exactly what's going on in a photograph. The iPad was so much better.
Mark then told me he'd heard that there was a way to tether an iPad to a laptop as a secondary display. I cursed him loudly; that bit of information might cost me mucho dinero. How well a $10 app worked would determine whether or not I'd buy many hundred of dollars worth of hardware.
I finally had a chance to try out the Air Display app on another friend's iPad (thank you, Chris) over my vacation last month in Minneapolis. It turned the iPad into a usable secondary high-quality monitor while running Photoshop on my MacBook Pro. The next day I went to the Apple store and bought one.
The low-end $500 model, with 16 GB of storage and no cellular network capabilities, would have been sufficient. After consideration, though, I ended up buying the 64 GB, 3G model. Why? First, this is more than merely a display. It's a self-contained computer, and it has never, ever made sense for me to buy at the low end of hardware. Second, as someone who hasn't had experience living in the being-connected-everywhere world, I didn't know whether I might care about that. It seemed foolish to get the model without cellular capability lest I discover later that I really want it and wind up replacing the whole computer. Several people impressed upon me that I'd likely find this a mighty useful feature, and they've been proved right. My price ended up nearly doubling, but whatthehell, it's only money.
Then there were the incidentals. An extended warranty (I am very bad with equipment care), a conductive foam Pogo Sketch stylus (fingers are just too fat for working directly on a photograph), and a Contour iSee for iPad (a hard clamshell with a collapsible stand that lets me prop up the iPad in landscape or portrait orientation).
There went a grand, but what did that get me? A portable dual-display rig with a studio-quality display that's touch sensitive, so I can brush directly on the photo I'm working on. Definitely worth it to me.
It's not as functional as a 12" Cintiq; there's no pressure sensitive stylus for the iPad (yet), and screen update is sluggish. But the cheap iPad's half the price, half the volume, a third the weight, and self-powered, and I'll bet the display's a lot better.
 Here I'm taking advantage of the touch-sensitive screen on the iPad to
do some burning in on a photograph with a masked curves adjustment
layer.
The combination works well enough. It has occasional idiosyncrasies; most significantly, one has to get used to the lag time in the display update. It's not a problem in Photoshop when using brushes or working with adjustment layers—it can refresh small areas of the screen rapidly. It takes more than a second to do a full display update, so you wouldn't want to use it for anything that requires a decent frame rate or for presenting a slideshow. I do think there's a good chance that performance will improve in the future, as slow response time is the primary complaint everyone has about this category of apps. In the meantime, you should probably do as I did and try before you buy, to make sure you're comfortable with the screen update rates.
iPad color out of the box is acceptable. Not as good as a studio monitor, but close enough for serious work, and much, much better than anything I could get in a portable device before. I can use it for making serious refinements to a photograph, which was, after all, the point.
My efforts to color manage the iPad had mixed results. Profile Mechanic Monitor didn't work at all; every time I ran it I got an entirely different result and it was always bizarre. ColorMunki worked pretty well but not perfectly. The hues and the values are very good in the profile; the color-managed iPad's rendering of B&W photographs matches my prints exactly. But, the chroma is too high. Not by a lot—if I add hue/saturation adjustment layer and drop the saturation by 20 points, it looks just about right.
If I can't figure out how to get a better profile built, I'll just start adding a –20 point hue/saturation adjustment layer as a visual filter whenever I'm working in Photoshop in the field. It may be that I'm being too fussy about this. My Apple Cinema Display, fully calibrated, is about 10 points too low in saturation.
So, I'm a very happy camper and after three weeks I'm still not suffering from buyers remorse. I've got a much, much better portable digital darkroom than I ever thought I'd have.
Oh yeah, and let's not forget that it is an iPad, not just a portable monitor. Maybe it'll even prove useful in other ways. Ya nevva knows....
Incidentally, if readers know of any other large-screen portable devices with near-studio-quality displays, I would like to hear about them. (But please don't tout some netbook or other portable device with the usual lousy screens; sure, they have their uses, but not for my kind of work.)
 Air Display creates a wireless connection between the iPad and my
laptop, so I don't have to actually be seated at the laptop unless I
need the big screen. I did my sorting and editing of photographs in
Adobe Bridge and Adobe Camera RAW sitting on the comfy bed. Ctein
Photographs copyright 2010 by David Dyer-Bennet. DDB made these photographs to illustrate this article while we were on a two-day photo trip over July 4 weekend up to Lake Superior's North Shore. They were posed for the sake of clarity and aesthetics, but they are not staged. This was my working setup and these were my working conditions.
Ctein's regular weekly column appears every Thursday morning. TOP is currently on summer hours, which means late morning for the time being.
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Original contents copyright 2010 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Featured Comment by Steve G, Mendocino: "Ctein: Once again, my Thursday morning is enlivened by useful and relevant information, well presented. That being said, curse you—I'd dismissed the iPad until now." Featured Comment by Bahi: "Very informative column—thanks. And I really like the pictures…there's something Old Testament about them. Prophet, tablet, etc. :-)" 
Posted on 2nd July 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Photo equipment, Printers and Printing
*But were afraid to ask.
By Geoff Wittig
About 15 years ago I saw an exhibition of Jim Brandenburg’s remarkable nature photographs. Many were printed very large, about 24x36". One image in particular (Oryx-Africa; M452 on his very nice website) just stopped me dead in my tracks. I probably stared at it for a good 15 minutes, with my kids tugging on my sleeves urging me to move on.
That's the kind of impact I wanted for my best photographs. Certainly, some images work best as modestly-sized prints. A poor photograph printed large merely shouts its shortcomings. But a really good large photograph can be a wonderful thing. Back then, a decent quality large color print required the services of a darkroom printer or custom lab with a very specialized skill set. I was very disappointed with the large darkroom prints I got from several custom labs. With a wide format inkjet, I’m now getting the prints I always wanted. So; you just buy a wide-format inkjet printer and hit control-P. Right?
Ummm....it’s not quite that simple. Last week I unboxed and set up a new Canon iPF6300, my third 24" inkjet since 2003. I’ve now had the dubious distinction of setting up and using 24" printers from all three of the major manufacturers. I’ve learned a few things that might be useful to folks contemplating the leap for the first time.
If you’re generally happy with prints up to 12x18", and only rarely need something bigger, it’s far more economical to use a service bureau for the occasional 20x30" or 24x36" print. They’re likely to be more skillful at it unless you spend a lot of time and effort learning the craft. But if you feel a passionate need to produce excellent large prints with your own skills, if you’re driven to proof and tweak and perfect until you have the ideal print, there’s a lot to be said for owning your own wide format printer. It can also be a potential moneymaker if you have a head for business, ruthlessly control your costs, and market aggressively. Me, I’m just happy to sell enough prints to pay for my ink and paper so I can print some more.
To state the obvious: the physical size of an inkjet printer escalates in tandem with its maximum print size. If you’re happy with 8x10s, you can use a printer that’ll fit in your briefcase. Inkjets capable of 13x19" prints will occupy most of a desktop. But if you want a 24" paper path, you're talking about a much bigger piece of hardware. The current models from Epson, Canon and HP weigh between 143 and 222 lbs., and are the size of a large desk. They arrive at your door in a ginormous box lashed to a wooden pallet. This issue alone requires a bit of planning.
Delivery
My first wide format printer was an Epson 7600 I bought in 2003. Completely clueless about the shipping weight and dimensions, I stupidly had it delivered to my office. My first hint of trouble was a perplexed phone call from the hospital next door. A delivery truck had dropped off a huge box on their loading dock with my name on it, and what the hell were they supposed to do with it? I walked over to the loading dock and was dumbstruck by this gigantic box mounted on a wooden shipping pallet. "Idiot" was the only muttered word I caught from the receiving clerk as he looked up from his desk. After my initial panic subsided I measured the box and realized that it might just barely fit in the back of my wife’s station wagon for the seven-mile trip home. And indeed it did; with my son’s assistance I was able to wrestle it into the back of the car, with about three millimeters to spare. I think the shipping clerk was disappointed.
I figured I was smarter three years ago when I traded up to an HP Z3100: I had it delivered to my home. Unfortunately I failed to allow for the fact that we live at the end of a 700' gravel driveway. You can see where this is headed. The printer was delivered by a lone bored-looking guy driving a tractor-trailer; he cell-phoned me from the end of the driveway to say "Yeah...this is as far as I’m going. Come and get it yourself." This time the box was definitely too big to fit; we got about 2/3rds of it inside the station wagon, and (very slowly) drove it to the house.
I finally learned my lesson. Last week I gladly paid the extra $50 to have two large guys with a van carry the latest printer into my house.
Setup
When you buy a desk-top inkjet, setup is pretty simple. You take the thing out of the box, load the driver onto your computer, plug the printer in, load the ink cartridges, and Bob’s your uncle.
Not quite so simple with a wide format printer. You need to budget at least half a day for setup and assembly, and you’ll need at least one other person (preferably large and strong) to help. Fortunately the assembly/installation instructions from Epson, HP and Canon are excellent. First you open up that gigantic box, and make sure everything’s there. As you unpack it you’ll eventually have massive amounts of Styrofoam, plastic wrap, tape and cardboard scattered all over the place, so make sure you don’t misplace anything. Nothing’s more frustrating than having a shiny new $3,500 printer sitting inert next to your computer because you can’t find the driver CD. Just sayin'.
  Next you assemble the printer’s stand and place it where you’ve decided the printer will go. Only then do you unwrap the actual printer, and place it on the stand. The printer body weighs well over 100 lbs. all by itself, and it’s computer-fragile. You definitely don’t want to drop it. My son and I carefully heaved the Canon iPF6300 up a narrow winding staircase to my library/digital darkroom. Then we took a break while our hands stopped shaking. (The bulkier HP Z3100 required three of us to get it upstairs.) Once you have the printer (securely!) bolted to the stand, you can load the appropriate driver software on your computer. Next you power up the printer, and load the ink cartridges (also the print heads for HP and Canon printers) when it tells you to. With up to 12 separate ink cartridges, this can take a while. After about 20 minutes of funny noises, the printer finally announces that it’s ready, and you can hook it up to your computer. If all goes well, your system recognizes the printer, and you can then do a head alignment and calibration. (Things have come a long way in this regard; the Epson 7600 required you to print out a large array of test stripes, then use a loupe to eyeball which ones were correctly aligned, and convey that information to the printer. Current printers automatically align their own heads by "reading" the test pattern with a sensor.)
Getting started with printing
I know, I know; you’re just dying to start cranking out those huge prints. But now you really need to spend some quality time with the manual to figure out how the printer works—from paper loading to media settings (such as print head height) to the logic of the driver software. (Trust me on this. The first time I made a print on the Z3100 I inadvertently chose a media setting commanding a low head height, loaded a thick paper, and promptly got a head strike that ruined one of the $79 dollar print heads. !@&%$!?) Yes, you can load the included sample roll and try making a few prints with the default (i.e. "dummy") settings; but you didn’t spend all this money just to print JPEGs at some lowest common denominator sRGB setting. You’ll need to figure out the correct workflow for your chosen paper; whether you’re using matte black or photo black ink, and how to switch between them; how to tell the printer what kind of paper is loaded...drudgery, I know, but it’s critical to getting great output. And then there's....
Color management
This probably causes more grief than everything else put together. Color management for wide format printers is no different in principle than for small desktop printers—but screw up the color on a 24x36" print on cotton rag paper, and you just wasted about $20 in paper and ink. You’ll want to learn exactly how to print using a good profile, without letting the driver insert its own clumsy attempt at color management. You may be satisfied using the printer manufacturer’s branded paper, for which they usually provide pretty decent "canned" profiles. Some third party paper manufacturers like Hahnemühle or Ilford provide fairly good profiles on their website. If you’re really particular, you can have custom profiles made for $60–$100 each by an expert. Or, you can spend lots more time and money on a profiling device and software, and learn to make your own. HP's Z3100/3200 models actually incorporate an iOne spectrophotometer, and will produce quite good (though not custom quality) profiles with minimal user effort. My personal sense is that current generation printers are so consistent (with their built-in calibration systems) that canned profiles are good enough for most uses. If you’re extremely persnickety, or if your color vision and judgment are better than mine, you may want to have custom profiles made for the papers you use for your best work.
Storage space
Okay, you’ve puzzled out color management, picked your favorite paper, and started cranking out some gorgeous huge prints. Now you need some dedicated space for storing those rolls and giant boxes of sheet paper waiting to be turned into art. You don't want to store $150 rolls of fine art paper in a damp moldy basement. Probably best if they’re not baking in direct sunlight, either. And what do you do with those big beautiful prints you make? My solution has been large acid-free storage boxes for regular prints, while long panoramic prints are gently rolled up inside acid-free tissue and placed inside empty roll paper boxes until they're mounted or delivered. I also have an upright print rack for photographs I want to live with for a while. Whatever solution you choose, you’re going to need a lot more space than you thought.
Print frequently
There are two reasons to print frequently. First is simply a skill issue; the more you print, the better you get at it. Some of the skills are "fugitive"'; you start forgetting some of the tricks and fine points to getting an excellent print unless you employ them regularly. The other reason is a quirk of the hardware. Pigment-based inkjet printers produce gorgeous color prints with remarkable fade-free longevity. But unless you print with some frequency, that pigment ink may start clogging up your expensive machine. Epson printers with their piezo heads are particularly prone to this, especially in dry environments. HP and Canon printers with their heat-based ejection nozzles do a good job keeping themselves clog-free if you leave them plugged in, with minimal waste of ink. Epson printers can blow through a lot of ink running through repeated cleaning cycles to clear a clog. They're happier if you print frequently, at least weekly.
Image quality
Once you start making large prints, all the defects and flaws in your images become blindingly obvious. Only a really excellent file with oodles of resolution, thoughtful processing, cunningly judged sharpening and careful attention to the perceptual artifacts apparent only at large sizes will make the grade. You may become depressed looking at some of your photographs, the ones that you previously thought were pretty good, because they just don’t measure up at 20x30". On the bright side, This will quickly compel you to get a lot better. I’m currently making prints that are far better than anything I was doing even two or three years ago, and having more fun doing it. Which is the whole point of the exercise, at least for me.
Geoff
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Original contents copyright 2010 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved.
Featured Comment by Ed G.: "Well, that was quite interesting. And now I know why I was afraid to ask! You're a braver man than I."
Featured Comment by Mike: "'Don't underestimate how much room a 24 inch printer and paper and output and spare ink and...will take up' Never a truer word—that has stretched my very patient and beloved wife's patience quite a lot!"
Featured Comment by Thomas Osborne: "Amen to 'print frequently.' I don't. My infrequent sessions usually begin with my Epson 4000 asking for a 'power clean' cycle." Featured Comment by David: "I had to laugh at your experience with the large printer. I had a similar experience but on a much smaller scale. I had an A3 Canon printer up on my desk-shelf for many years. I think it was an S4500. Recently, after upgrading to Win-7 64-bit and not having a driver for this printer, I decided to upgrade. The S4500 was old enough to throw in the bin without qualms and so I purchased a newly released you-beaut (Aussie slang) Canon iX700 a few months ago. I intended the new one to sit in the same space as the old one. "So there I was in the sales room of the computer dealer, waiting my turn, and watching everyone collecting their hard-drives and printers and new PCs and I see this guy walking down the isle from the store-room with a huge box on a trolley. I'm thinking what has someone bought that is so big, a UPS maybe. You guessed it, it was the Canon. So while I'm paying for this thing the misgivings started to take hold. Anyway I consoled myself with the thought that it was probably packed quite well with a lot of air-space in the box, etc. etc. "I was allowed to use the trolley to get to my car, an SUV. The box filled up the SUV behind the back seat almost completely, and it wasn't that light either. So returned the trolley and back home, I park in a below-ground garage. I had to lug this huge box up a couple of flights of stairs, through two fire-doors with door-closers fighting me and eventually into my unit to my little office. Now, my 'office' happens to be a walk-in robe, so it is about 5 ft. wide by 8 ft. long. In it I have a desk and there is a shelf thing that sits on the desk. Opened the box and started taking the packing material out and, Oh boy!, where the hell am I going to put this printer? There was no way it was ever going to fit on the shelf. There was another book-shelf near the door of my office, so I had to re-arrange everything on the five shelves to clear a whole shelf just for the printer. Now I can squeeze past it to get into the office, but I have to leave the paper tray out and perched on top, as it sticks out into the doorway. "So you would think this is the end of the saga? Not so. The printer malfunctioned, (duplexer wouldn't duplex), so it had to go back! Fortunately I hadn't thrown the packing away, so re-packed as best I could and back to the supplier. They had another in stock, so I had to repeat the whole thing again. After setting up and testing the second unit, I had exactly the same problem with the duplexer. Now I'm thinking, am I doing something wrong here? Checked the manual thoroughly and ensured I was setting everything just as the paperwork said. Still no luck. So what do I do now, go back to the supplier or back to Canon? I thought I would go to Canon and vent my feelings. "So packed up the unit again, (by now you can imagine I am becoming an expert in packing/unpacking this printer: could have got a job at the Canon factory without any training!). Off to Canon and as soon as I walked in the door, I was told they don't service printers at head office, take it to a service agent. By now I'm getting a bit pissed off with carrying this beast around the place. So I find a Canon service agent: they keep the thing for two days and when I go back I am told they won't fix it because the whole print mechanism has to be ordered and replaced and since it is so new, take it back to the supplier. So re-pack the thing and go back to the supplier. No problem they say, we will replace it, but nothing in stock, it will take another week to get a replacement. "Finally, I get version number three and back home to unpack and re-install again. (Now I'm really an expert at packing an iX7000: I think I'll make up a certificate to hang on my office wall). Version number three worked first time and hasn't given any trouble since. "So the moral of the story is when a new product comes out and you want it, wait quite a while until some other sucker(s) have ironed out the production problems for you, before you buy it." 
Posted on 1st July 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Photo equipment
The other day, I speculated that maybe Gitzo tripods might be built in a factory in China. Wrong-O, carbon-fiber-breath. (Get the researcher in my office now.) They're handmade in Manfrotto's factory in Feltre, a picturesque hill town of some 8,000 families just south of the Dolomites in northeastern Italy.
Vincent Oliver of photo-i fame has a nice video factory tour at YouTube. Mike
(Thanks to several readers)
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Original contents copyright 2010 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved.
Posted on 27th June 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Photo equipment
Part I is here.
I've now gathered together some tripods for "testing." (As you might remember, I dislike the word "test" on photographic sites on the internet—a better, more accurate word is "trial." Most people don't run real tests, and many of those who do don't know how to design their "tests" well enough to avoid error—or even randomness. As for me, I'm just messin' around—one might more kindly call it "investigating"—and telling you what I think.) Of course the other possibility is that somebody's trying pretty hard to copy somebody else.
So anyway, sometimes comparisons on the internet are faulted for cutting distinctions too fine. If you find people arguing about which sensor shows more noise at 100%, and there are proponents on both sides, chances are the difference isn't worth chasing. But wouldn't you say that if and when something is twice as good as something else, it's unabashedly, unambiguously better?
First of all, I went to a local camera store—Mike Crivello's in Brookfield, Wisconsin—and took a quick look at what they had. Since I'm mainly curious about carbon fiber, I bought this: a ProMaster SystemPro T325P Carbon Fiber ($260). It's a cute little thing—wee, which is not to say twee, and almost impossibly light: I was able to weigh it on my Pelouze digital postage scale, upon which the legs and center column registered a featherlight 2 lbs., 5.2 oz. (1055g). It almost comes up to my knee with the legs unextended. You can get a five-section version for $40 more that collapses even smaller but, naturally, takes a little longer to set up and knock down (more locking collars to loosen and tighten). If you don't know the name, ProMaster is sort of a shared house brand for camera stores—it makes a whole range of products (flashes, bags, filters, cards, and on and on) for rebranding or retail sale mainly at dedicated camera retailers.
I'm actually quite enamored of the $260 ProMaster. It's very slight, which used to be indelibly associated with cheapie amateur occasional-use tripods, and, indeed, the ProMaster doesn't seem like it would hold up to frequent hard use very well—although it might, who can tell?—meaning the ProMaster probably isn't a tripod for actual pro masters. But the attention to detail is very high. It has both a level and compass built into the tops of the leg brackets (for those times when you find yourself lost in the trackless wilderness having remembered to bring your tripod but somehow forgotten to plan for finding your way around); the leg-locks are wonderfully easy to use, and lock and unlock quite positively with minimal pressure; the middle leg section, thoughtfully, doesn't rotate, so you can lock and unlock the bottom (innermost) section when the middle section isn't locked down; and there's even a spring-loaded hook at the bottom of the center post for hanging a bit of extra mass, should you wish to.
I then asked my friends at B&H Photo to send me a Gitzo GT1531 Mountaineer ($560 with current rebate). Gitzo, originally a
French brand now owned by Italy's Manfrotto, is one of the oldest and
most prestigious names in tripods. It was both a pioneer of carbon fiber
as a material for tripods and also says it pursues continuous
development of its materials and designs, so that today's carbon fiber
tripod is considerably better than its original carbon fiber tripods.
Gitzo 1531, left, and ProMaster T325P, right
Much to my surprise, however, the Gitzo is also wee—about the same size as as the ProMaster. The Gitzo is somewhat longer when folded up. It has a locking collar above the circular plate to which the legs are attached (the ProMaster's is underneath), which accounts for most of the height difference. It has a shorter center column and its legs are skinnier, just. (The thicker section you see at the top of the right leg of the ProMaster is a foam carrying handle which could easily be cut off if you don't like it.)
 The Gitzo (above) has its center column locking collar above the top plate, the ProMaster (below) has its less effective locking collar underneath the top plate.
The Gitzo tilts the postal scale at 4.8 oz. heavier—2 lbs 10 oz. on the nose (1190g).
The two tripods look so much alike that I inspected them carefully for signs that they were sourced from the same factory. The fit'n'finish of the Gitzo is higher overall, but the ProMaster is nicely finished too. Despite many close similarities I didn't find any actual shared parts, so I can't say they're cousins; however, I wouldn't bet much that they didn't emanate from the same mainland Chinese factory*. (Zhongshan Ltd. in South Guangdong province, possibly. Just a guess; I know nothing.) The other possible explanation is that somebody is trying really hard to copy somebody else. No accusations, just sayin'.
That said, the Gitzo's higher level of finish shows virtually everywhere—the locks are more positive and stronger, the hammertone finish is nicer, the leg tips unscrew. And no little compass. And although I thought the ProMaster was very attractive when it was all I had in the house, the Gitzo is handsomer still.
I really am impressed with the ease and positiveness (for lack of a better word) of the leg-locks on both tripods, but especially the Gitzo. Both are easy and dare I say pleasant to use. The Gitzo locks loosen with a little "tock" sound, as if they're coming unstuck; both are very easy to loosen, which certainly cannot be said of my old Studex. Both lock quite strongly with relatively little pressure, but here again the Gitzo does better: even firmly tightened, I can put weight (far more than the weight of any camera and lens) on the ProMaster legs and get the locks slip; the locks on the Gitzo just stay put. More weight still might get them to slip, but it's not my tripod and I'm not going to test the limits. For all conceivable values of "the weight you might put on a tripod" the legs just stay put.
The only real practical difference between the two tripods is that the center column locking collar on the ProMaster doesn't clamp the center column terribly firmly—which its designers acknowledge by providing a secondary column lock. Best to reserve this tripod for smaller cameras and lenses, in any event.
Secondary locking knob for center post on the ProMaster T325P is remedial. This is not an ideal tripod for big, heavy cameras anyway, probably. Note wee bubble level and twee compass.
Just based on their features and a close inspection of their operation and fit'n'finish, I'd pick the Gitzo if money were no object or if I used a tripod a lot. But the Gitzo costs more than twice as much as the ProMaster, and, according to today's designated leitmotif, a factor of half or double is undeniably significant. If it were my money, especially given my only occasional use of tripods, I'd have no trouble picking the ProMaster; it doesn't really have anything to apologize for...given its cost.
Carbon fiber, carbon fiber
I'll get around to comparing the stability and user-friendliness of these two tripods relative to an older aluminum Bogen and my formidable old Gitzo Studex in the next installment of this series, which will come along some time in the next three weeks. But here's the real point of this post: even the heavier of these two tripods weighs in at 2 lbs. 10 oz. (Did I mention I was able to weigh them on my postage scale? I did? Okay.) The Bogen I'll be comparing it to weighs more than 5 lbs., and the Studex, about 7 lbs. Now, it's possible that this is like comparing apples to melons, since I've clearly picked two smaller, shorter carbon fiber tripods to compare to my larger, taller metal ones. Still, it seems abundantly clear to me from playing with these that materials science has wrought a quiet revolution in the tripod category since I bought my trusty Studex.
In portable tripods, lightness is good. And when something is twice as good as the competition, that's a significant difference. And carbon fiber tripods are better than half the weight, roughly speaking, of equivalent metal or wooden tripods. That's very, very good indeed. Revolutionary, some have called it. Half as heavy = twice as good in my book, at least where tripods are
concerned.
This isn't remotely news to veteran tripod users, and it's not really even news to me, but still, having acquainted up-close and personal this week with both a cheap and an expensive carbon fiber tripod, one thing that seems unarguable to me is that carbon fiber material is a no-brainer for portable tripods unless you simply cannot possibly stretch to afford one by hook, crook, or patiently saving up. Mike
*This is wrong. See here for an update.
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Question from Ctein: "For those of us constrained by the dimensions of airline luggage (both checked and unchecked) it would be most useful to know the dimensions of the tripods, with and without the center columns removed (assuming they're removable)."
Mike replies: They're both removable. Using my old-fangled 1922 tape measure (really—it was my grandfather's), the ProMaster measures 22 3/4 inches long when compacted, and you would save 3/4" by removing the top plate (no need to remove the whole center post, which, by the way, breaks into two parts like a fine pool cue. I am really unsure as to why, because you can remove the center column by just removing the bottom cap. I guess it's so the same base unit can be used to create different length center posts?).
The Gitzo measures 24 1/2" collapsed and 23 3/8" with the center post removed (the locking collar is affixed to the top plate and doesn't come off, so removing the center column doesn't save you a lot of length).
If anyone would like any more measurements please let me know.
—Mike
Question from Richard: "Do the legs turn when trying to lock them extended? I know some Gitzos have a nice feature that stops their legs from rotating, making locking less complicated."
Mike replies: Sorry for not making that more clear: the center leg sections of both tripods don't rotate, making it easy to lock or unlock the third (bottom, innermost) leg section without the center section being secured.
Featured Comment by latent_image: "Working on various survey crews in the 1970s, I was constantly setting up tripods for transits, levels, and theodolites. Surveyors have a technique for very quickly getting the tripod head level and over target on sloping ground that involves setting down a leg that may be slightly shortened on the uphill side and then grabbing the two downhill legs and moving them into position while observing the level on the head. What makes this easy is that surveyor's tripods have legs that can be tightened at any angle.
"I mention this because a lot of photo tripods have no method for locking down the legs at more than a couple of predetermined angles. To my mind this is next to useless. I can't tell you how many times I've watched photographers tediously shorten and lengthen legs to get their tripods level. Legs that can be locked down through a full range of angles are faster to set up and make it easier to locate the head in the most stable and safe position with relation to the feet, which goes a long way towards preventing a mishap with the camera."
Featured Comment by Joe Reifer: "The Gitzo GT1541 [$600 with current rebate —Ed.] is the 4-section version of this tripod, and folds to 21.3", which will fit in many carry-on bags. A 1-series Gitzo tripod is really only appropriate as a lightweight travel tripod - it's too light for windy days or long lenses. My everday tripod is a GT3541LS [$710 with current rebate, 21.7" folded —Ed.] and I couldn't be happier."
Mike adds: Joe, who has contributed to TOP several times, is a dedicated nighttime photographer and knows his tripods. 
Posted on 26th June 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Photo equipment
 Manfrotto 209 tabletop tripod legs ($25)
By Adam McAnaney
In the comments to Mike's post "Tripod Technology," I made my aversion to tripods pretty clear. But like others I decided to try and find the smallest, sturdiest option available that would hold, at a minimum, a small SLR, yet which would be fairly cheap given the limited use it was likely to see. After trying several options, I have come up with what may just be the ideal solution.
Legs: The trick is to get legs that won't flex, have some mass to them and which sit very low. If the mini/tabletop tripod is going to fit into your camera bag, the legs simply won't be very long. Buying a mini tripod with telescoping legs is just a bad idea all-around, piling instability on instability. So you want something with solid legs. If the head of the legs is more than 3 or 4 inches off the ground, then the legs won't be spread out more than 4 or 5 inches, which means that by the time you mount a camera and lens, the setup will be very unstable. Solid legs that spread very wide will maximize your stability. My recommendation? The Giottos QU 500B Mini Tabletop Tripod* ($25) or the Manfrotto 209 Tabletop Tripod ($25) which supposedly support up to 11 lbs. That seems ridiculous for a mini tripod, until you realize just how basic and stable its design is. The legs are made of metal and very stable, and they sit very low to the ground. Only drawback: the legs really work best when they are fully spread out on a flat surface. In practice, I haven't found this to be a problem, but your mileage may vary.
Head: Again, I was looking for something cheap, yet stable, that wouldn't start to drop with an SLR attached. My solution: the Manfrotto 234 Swivel Tilt Monopod Head ($24). It, too, is made of metal and is very, very stable. It is designed for use on monopods with much heavier lenses than what I use it for. The locking mechanism simply does not loosen. Given that the unit is made of metal and is very robust, the large tightening screw just won't budge once you set it. Only drawback: it is a swivel, so you can only adjust your camera/lens along one axis. Again, I haven't found this to be a problem for my work, but then again I'm obviously not all people.*
Quick release (optional): This setup really doesn't need a quick release. I say this for two reasons: 1) The attachment screw on the Manfrotto 234 is very easy to access and operate, so attaching and removing it manually is much less annoying than with most tripods. 2) Since the Giottos/Manfrotto legs and the Manfrotto tilt head are so small, I tend to just leave this combination attached to my camera in situations where I'm using it. With the legs folded up, they provide a sort of grip for my SLR and do not interfere with my hand-held shooting. When I want to use the mini tripod, I just spread the legs and set the camera down. That said, there are people who are die-hard quick-release fans and who already have QR plates on all of their cameras/lenses. For those people I recommend the Markins QR-48 ($70), which includes a built-in bubble-level. My chief objection to this is that the quick release costs more than the legs and the head combined, yet doesn't add much in terms of functionality.
For anyone looking for a slightly more flexible setup (with more adjustable legs and a ballhead) and for whom money is no object, I would recommend the following:
The Leica Tabletop Tripod with Folding Legs ($109) with one of the small ballheads from one of the better ballhead manufacturers, such as a BH-25 LR ($175) from Really Right Stuff or a Q-Ball Q3 Emille ($300) from Markins. Both of these heads have built-in quick releases.*
But frankly, I wouldn't dismiss the Giottos/Manfrotto Mini Tripod / Manfrotto 234 combo. It is a much more flexible and stable combo than you think. On the other hand, for someone who will use such a setup a lot, even the more expensive Leica / mini-ballhead combo can seem like a bargain. To be honest with you, I would get far more use out of such a setup than I do out of my carbon fiber tripod and massive ballhead which, as I have already made clear, sits unused at home.
Adam
Adam McAnaney comments on TOP as amcananey.
*Legs identical to the Giottos/Manfrotto legs are available in a combo with a mini-ballhead in the form of the Manfrotto 709 Digi Tabletop Tripod with Ballhead ($40). The ballhead looks okay and has gotten good reviews, even from people using it with cameras as large as a Nikon D700, but I am skeptical that a mini-ballhead at this price point won't start to droop with use. For those using EVIL cameras or compacts, this might be a good option, however.
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Posted on 24th June 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Ctein, Photo equipment
By Ctein
Y'know, it seems to me much the discussion around Mike's tripod column can be summed up by a rhetorical question that's similar to the one we ask of cameras:
Which will help you make better pictures—the $50, 2 kg tripod you take with you or the $500, 10 kg tripod you leave at home?
Before going to Baja in 1991 to photograph the solar eclipse, I bought a truly massive 'pod to support my Pentax 67 and the long telephoto lens I would be using. The Bogen (now Manfrotto) 3051 with a 3047 head was reasonably priced for what it offered (in other words, not all that cheap) and it was by far the most rugged and stable tripod I've ever used in my life.
 Your intrepid author, accompanied by the monster Bogen tripod, photographing the 1991 solar eclipse. That little black box hanging off the end of the lens? That's a Pentax 67 body. Gives you an idea of the size of the tripod. The mentioned-in-passing Velbon tripod is the one attached directly to the camera body. (Photo by Paula Butler.)
It also weighed at least 7 or 8 kg; it had to be 10 with the Pentax mounted on it. I only ended up using it in the field a couple of times after that; it was simply too heavy for me to lug more than a short distance. Definitely no cross-country hikes with that one. I always ended up taking a relatively flimsy Velbon that I'd had since I can't remember when.
The Bogen was a great tool for the specific task I bought it for, but as a life purchase it sucked. Its primary function was to take up space in the back of the closet and get hauled out for camera, lens, or film tests. I sold it a couple of years back.
In 2002, while planning my trip to Hawaii to photograph the "Jewels of Kilauea" project, I needed a sturdy and flexible tripod that I could take out onto the lava fields. It sure wasn't going to be that Bogen! I needed stability without weight. My ultimate happy compromise was a Gitzo G2227 carbon fiber tripod with a Manfrotto 329RC4 head. That set me back more dinero than I can recall. $600? $800? Whatever, lots, but it was definitely the right tool for the job. I had no trouble carrying it for kilometers across uneven terrain. I still have it and use it. There's a good chance it's the tripod I'll have for the rest of my life.
But still, I don't carry it around routinely. It's a little bulky for that. So I've continued to move down the scale and found two tripods that work fabulously well for my current photographic "lifestyle" and cost me nearly nothing.
The first one I just plain stumbled across. I was going off on a road trip with a friend a few years back, and she needed to stop off at Ritz Cameras on the way to drop off some film for developing. Looking around the place, I realized that an inexpensive, lightweight tripod could be a real boon on the trip. I ended up buying a Quantaray QSX-6601TM on sale for $29.99. It's remarkably capable for what it is, having center leg braces, a quick release plate, and a removable and reversible monopod column. It's small enough with the column removed that it will fit in carry-on luggage, and it only weighs 1.5 kg.
Won't work worth a damn with a Pentax 67 (surprise!) or probably even a full-sized digital SLR. For cameras like my recent Fujifilm S100 and 6500 it proved entirely adequate. It's definitely a nice match for the positively petite Olympus Pen EP-1, even when I mount the 45–200mm zoom.
Is it going to be good in a strong wind? No. Is it going to last me the rest of my life? Given the almost-entirely plastic construction, I very much doubt it. But, when it finally dies, I'm out only $30. I've gotten a huge amount of use from it over the past 2 1/2 years; it's probably the smartest impulse purchase I ever made. It's almost all I've been using for field photography since I started making digital photographs.
Bottom of the bag
Almost. Some years earlier, I'd picked up (again at Ritz Camera) a Vanguard Mini Tabletop Tripod (similar to this one
) for the whopping sum of $12.94. It also weighs a whopping 350g and folds up into a 20 x 8 x 5 cm package. Consequently, it has permanent residence in the bottom of my shoulder bag next to the Olympus. I don't even notice the tripod is there...except when I need it.
A self portrait by my Olympus Pen camera, showing the Vanguard Mini tripod.
It's compact, it's cute, it's cheap, it's practical.
That isn't often, but it's sure nice to have it when it is. When I went up to the top of the Empire State building at night on my recent trip to New York City that's the tripod that went with me, because The Powers That Be don't much care for tripods on the observation deck. Nobody complains about a little gadget that's barely bigger than the small camera that's mounted on it. Setting it on floors, putting it on ledges, propping it against walls, I managed to get all the photographs I wanted with all my focal length lenses. Okay, it was a little dicey out at the 200mm end of things; this is not exactly the most stable camera platform. But it worked well enough that about half of my maximum telephoto photographs came out. Without that little 'pod, the percentage would have been precisely zero.
From the 86th floor observation deck of the Empire State building, looking up.
Photographed with the Olympus Pen and the Vanguard Mini tripod.
Yup, that's the tripod I have with me...it's helped me make me more good pictures than the Bogen ever did.
Ctein's weekly column appears every Thursday morning, for some value of "morning."
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Posted on 16th June 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Film and Darkroom, Mike's Darkroom, Photo equipment
I should just warn you—TOP is likely to be quiescent for a stretch, as I work on setting up the darkroom. (I thought I should say, because the "are you okay?" emails have started up already. Whenever I get quiet, people who know me start to worry, which I guess indicates that when I am in fact okay I tend to be jabbering away.)
This is a bit embarrassing (couldn't I have at least cleaned up a little bit before I made this shot?), but this is the "before" picture of the area of the basement where the darkroom's going to be. The thing on the left is the old enlarger stand from my darkroom in my loft in Chicago. That darkroom was a small "powder room" or half bath. I removed all the bathroom fixtures. It was L-shaped, and the best place to put the enlarger stand was in the entryway. I had to squeeze past it to get in, but once I was in I had more room that way.
 Highly professional TOP graphic of Chicago darkroom
The area next to the enlarger stand was just slightly narrower than self. Having thought about it a little more, I think what I have marked as 6' in this diagram was actually 7', and what I have drawn as 4' was actually 5'. It seems to me the sink I had was nominally a 2' x 4' sink and was slightly longer than 4'. Whatever. You get the gist. I wouldn't have wanted to do 16x20s in that darkroom, but it was fine for 11x14s, although the developer tray had to go up on the shelf.
I had a Focomat IIc in there for a while. That made it crowded. The Focomat IIc took up most of the empty middle part. Very little room left for Yr. Hmbl. Phtgrphr. If you ever get a chance to see a Focomat IIc, you ought to. Not the greatest enlarger from a practical point of view, but just so awesomely overbuilt you can't help but admire it.
I have not done any actual work in the PFD* yet, but I have done a lot of thinking. Thinking is hard, so I have to go lie down every so often. Think a while, rest. Think, rest. As you perceive, it doesn't leave a lot of time for writing.
I've worked in some very primitive darkrooms in my time, and I think I could be up and printing by this afternoon if I really wanted to be. All you need for trays is a table. But I've decided to get a little fancy-pants this time around, so I am plotting some refinements for the PFD. So far these refinements are just in my mind, but they are taking up a lot of room in there. (It's crowded in there, too, mainly with things I am going to do and might not ever get around to actually doing.)
I've been thinking about the comments people made the other day about reverse snobbery. I think I might have a little of that. I actually kind of like crude darkrooms, because I like to be able to do really good work even in very un-fancy surroundings. I've heard that Edward Weston was like that—a few of his darkrooms were quite primitive, but his craftsmanship was superb.
In the "before" picture at the top, that's a Durst M601 on the old enlarger stand on the right, and a Durst Modular 70 BW and a Saunders/LPL 670 VCCE behind the punching bag. This enlarger is unquestionably the Rolls-Royce, but (well, like a Rolls-Royce) it's ridiculously expensive. I wish I'd kept the one I had—I got rid of it because it didn't fit in that darkroom in Chicago. If I were going to buy a new enlarger today I'm pretty sure it would be this one. Of course, people are not clamoring for new Enlargers these days. Records show that the last time any Earth-dwelling human actually bought a new enlarger was 3 months and 18 days ago, When one George Dunkelkammer of Bisbee, Arizona, bought an Omega because he'd always wanted one. But I thought I'd put in the links anyway.
More soon—just, as I say, slowly. Mike
*Postulated Future Darkroom
Correction: The original version of this post said "Focotar II" instead of "Focomat IIc." Man, am I ever getting ditzy. If my memory were an employee, I'd fire it. Thanks to V. I. Voltz for the sharp elbow.
 Leitz Focomat IIc. Photo by Magnus Manske.
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Featured Comment by amcananey: "That Focomat is absolutely comical. Straight out of Dr. Frankenstein's lab...." Featured Comment by Jammy: "The punching bag will come in extremely handy when they stop making your favorite paper and film. :-) " 
Posted on 14th June 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Photo equipment, Photo-tech
'Kay, my reasoning here is a little twisty-and-turny, so see if you follow.
A couple of weeks ago, in the discussion following the "Letter to George" post (TOP's most popular post of 2010 so far, by the way), I boasted that I'd bought a really good tripod right out of the gate, in 1980, and had never seen the need to replace it. (Patted self on back, fortunately did not hurt arm.)
My old
companion "The Beast," a Gitzo Studex that, fully extended, goes
as
high as I can reach (also without hurting arm).
But then I got to thinking well, actually, that's probably only because I'm not a tripod kind of guy. I've mentioned many times that I'm not a big fan of tripods, nor a heavy user. My tripod has seen consistent low-level use over the years, but it's not an important piece of gear to me. So maybe that's the only reason I've been satisfied with the one I have.
But then it occurred to me that maybe the reason (or one reason) I don't much care for tripods is that the one I have isn't as good as I think it is. Hmm. Cart or horse?
First of all, the Gitzo is heavy. I felt sure the hammertone gunmetal main leg sections were steel—they look like steel, they feel like steel, they seem to weigh like steel—until Bryan Geyer disabused me of that notion by suggesting that I test it with a magnet to see. What do you know—he's right. They're aluminum.
The main leg sections, solid and sturdy if a little the worse for three decades
of wear, are actually not steel, but aluminum.
The Gitzo is solid as a rock, but light it is not. It tilts the bathroom scale at better than 7 lbs., unofficially. I was kind of surprised at that, too—it feels heavier. I would have guessed ten pounds. All collapsed, it's an imposing 31" long.
By the way, that first, largest-diameter section into which the other sections telescope is technically called a "shell section," Bryan tells me. (If you don't know the name, Bryan is the founder and former owner of Really Right Stuff.)
The 3-way Gitzo Rational No. 2 head is solid but slow.
The longest of the knobs on the head is 10.5 inches long. It can be folded down almost parallel with the legs, but of course that makes it a bit slower to set up.
The only real damage the beast has sustained in 30 years is that
the rubber knurling on two of the locking knobs is gone.
One departed only recently.
The thing is solid, have I mentioned that? And tall—with the center post extended, it goes well over my head. (That's what I wanted, back in the day, because I used it with a 4x5.) And it has lasted beautifully. As you can see from the pictures above, the legs have taken some battering, and the rubber knurling on a couple of the locking knobs has vanished, but that's it. I've taken the whole thing completely apart for a thorough cleaning three or four times—once when I had it up to its neck in fetid swamp water and I had to clean the insides of the legs lest they smell. You can see from the grime on the leg in the picture just above that the noble beast could stand a cleaning once again.
 You've heard of a "quick-release"? Well, the attachment plate on the Rational No. 2 is an Extremely Slow Release.
The tripod isn't hard to use—how could a tripod be hard to use? But it's not super convenient, either. The locking knobs for the legs can come close to seizing, requiring a lot of force to release—I'm always careful not to over-tighten them. The biggest weakness of the tripod and head is something that could easily be fixed by buying an attachable quick-release plate, which I should have done long ago. What happens is that when it rattles around in the trunk or wherever, the threaded bolt can get stuck in the threaded opening through which you remove it, over at the far end of the slot in the plate. And I mean stuck—it can require pliers to free it again. That doesn't happen often, but there were at least two times that I remember when I wanted to use the tripod and just had to give up because the bolt was stuck and I didn't have a tool with me to get it unstuck.
So anyway, there's the dilemma—am I really just not a tripod guy, or would I use a tripod more often if I had one that wasn't so heavy to carry and slow to use? I decided to find out. So I've been looking into the state-of-the-art in tripods, circa 2010. What I'm learning is fascinating. Part II of this post won't show up for a week or two, but stay tuned— Mike
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ADDENDUM: I guess I should have mentioned that one reason I'm thinking about tripods again is that the two cameras I've been shooting with the most lately are the Mamiya 7II and the Bronica RF645, the latter seen above. Although both are rangefinders and might seem inappropriate for tripod use, both also have ƒ/4 lenses, which, with 400-speed film I usually shoot at E.I. 200, is quite a comedown from digital as far as hand-held speed and low-light capability are concerned. —MJ
Featured Comment by Ken Tanaka: "I have bought more tripods over the years than I care to recall. I have two Gitzos at the moment and I've never been charmed by their legend. Both are sturdy but neither is friendly.
"For small cameras I prefer my Manfrotto Carbon One. Light, easy set-up, built-in clips to keep the legs together during transport.
Berlebach Report 8023
 "Lately with my medium format cameras I've been using my Berlebach Report. It's a real piece of art, and relatively inexpensive. An ash wood tripod, beautifully crafted and finished, just a bit heavier than a high-tech CF but much lighter than Mike's scaffold, simple and reliable adjustment mechanisms, and easy to handle in any weather. Most important, my Berlebach is rock-solid and vibrationally dead in every leg configuration. Berlebach has been making these things since 1898 so I guess practice makes perfect.
"For closer work requiring some precision (but not requiring a boom) I use the Manfrotto Triaut. It's definitely a serious rig, although its quick-release legs make its bulk easier to manage. Plus its geared center post with a geared head makes precisely positioning the camera easy.
Featured Comment by Player: "My situation exactly. I used to lug around a Bogen 3236 with an NPC Pro Head; I even bought a carrying strap for it. Eventually I lost enthusiasm for taking pictures with the prospect of hauling that three-legged monster around. I finally realized that instead of retiring from photography I could purchase a smaller and lighter tripod, but I didn't want spend a ton of cash on an exotic tripod like a Gitzo carbon-fiber or the like. So I got a Manfrotto 190XDB and a small Markins ballhead. It's even sturdy enough to support a D700 and a prime lens up to 85mm. Photography is fun again."
Featured Comment by Chris: "Sorry, Mike, but tripods don't qualify as 'beastly' until they can support the weight of their photographer. ;-) "
Mike replies: ...Fail. I'm pretty sure the Gitzo would do it on the lawn, where the leg-tips would dig in a bit, but not on the carpet where the tips get no traction and the legs are free to splay outwards. However, I'm pretty sure I'm going to tear, pull, or strain something if I pursue this particular equipment test further, so I'm going to bail....
Featured [partial] Comment by amcananey: "I have a carbon fiber tripod and a big expensive ballhead. Why? Because everyone insists you need both to be a real photographer. The tripod sits in a corner of my closet of a home office at home, in its original box. My advice to budding photographers is: unless you're into macro, night photography or landscape photography, don't fall for the hype! Wait until you run into a real and repeated need before blowing a ton of cash on something unlikely to get much use."
Featured Comment by Julian Love: "I mainly shoot travel and adventure sports, and while I don't need a tripod that often, when I need one I really need one. My solution was to blow the cash on a carbon fibre Gitzo 1-series 4-section tripod and a Markins Q3 head. With the rationale being that the best tripod is the one you have with you; anything heavier would get left behind at the hotel too often. This setup weighs in at about 1.5kg and is sturdy enough to hold a 5D mark II with a 70–200. But more importantly it is light enough to strap to the side of my backpack and carry around all day without noticing it too much. I've had this setup for three years now and am very happy with it." Featured Comment by Ken N: "I am so ashamed to be seen in public with my 20-year-old Bogen 3221 or 3021 tripods. Setting up these old beasts at the scenic overlook while surrounded by the latest in carbon fiber wizardry is just too much. And heaven forbid that anybody sees the hex QR plates. The salesman sold me these things because they'd last a lifetime. The problem is that they are lasting a lifetime. Why can't they wear out so I can get new ones?" Featured Comment by steve Mason: "I shoot virtually all my personal work with a tripod. There is nothing like a Gitzo and nothing better than carbon fiber. The use of a tripod goes beyond shooting—its uses are many and varied. It has saved my balance while climbing over treacherous terrain, allowed me to spread my way through deep prickly bushes, saved me from getting wet while setting up a shot, allowed me to keep my bag from getting wet, dirty and/or full of poison ivy. Yes, a tripod is my friend." 
Posted on 14th June 2010 by Michael Johnston in Photography
Photo equipment, Reflections
Just a minor comment in passing. Almost no matter what we discuss on TOP, sooner or later, a few people will mistake the discussion for a discussion about status. If a choice seems to be approved of, some will feel good about themselves for having made that choice, and others will feel criticized because they like, or own, or do something different. Some will try to lay claim to status privileges while others will snipe at them from the trees.
That's understandable, but I usually find it tiresome. I'll personally discuss—with real interest, in most cases—almost any set of alternatives in this hobby. But I also truly don't care about the status aspect of almost any such choice. Nobody's better because of the brand of camera they use, what their tripod legs are made of, what film they like, how much data their card will hold, whether they like prints or their iPad, how many books they've sold, and so on.
I do like commitment. I respect people who make up their minds about what they want and like and go after it with gusto. That goes for the passionate steampunk Lomographer as well as the landscapist who mortgages his house for a P65+. It's all cool.
The incessant nattering over status will never end, of course. But I've been involved in photography for long enough now that I've seen entire categories of status-disputation go extinct. K-14 or E-6? Will your camera keep working if the button battery fails? Is your lens an "Apo"? Can one make truly fine prints on VC...or RC? I'm sure others can think of more.
I admit that I sometimes play off status concerns, as rhetorical
deviousness, or maybe because I think it's funny. I have strong opinions, no argument there. I'll discuss the reasoning behind my preferences 'n' prejudices till the cows come home. But it's never* because I think my choices makes me better than anybody else. Given that it really doesn't matter which of two harmless alternatives anyone chooses, wouldn't it be nice if everybody were consistently tolerant of everybody else's one true path?
I'm just sayin'. Mike
* I hope never.
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