CAMERA HOUSE QLD https://blog.dnevnik.hr/camera-house-qld

These water drops are refracting the images of a spiderwort plant (dark blue) , japanese iris (yellow) , and wild geranium (purple) from my garden.

I'm frequently asked if I use any special kind of solution to make the drops big or more colorful. Nope - just plain old H2O water.

I'm also asked if these photos are real or did I use photoshop to create images inside the drops. These photos are simply the product of physics. In this case I did place the flowers behind what I thought were some very interesting drops, so it is posed, (in fact I tried several things behind these drops) - but it IS real. And many of my favorite water drop shots are just what I find in my garden after a rain - so this stuff is all around us, just really small.

Following is tutorial I wrote about a year ago for how how to take this kind of macro photograph:

Water Drop Photography Tutorial

Or how to squeeze flowers into those teeny-weenie drops

I have always been drawn to nature and wildlife photography. I love taking my camera way up north to capture images of seldom-seen animals and exotic scenery. Unfortunately, we can’t always plan distant adventures to shoot photographs of moose and northern lights. But we can train our eyes to find the unexpected beauty in our own backyards.

My fascination (some might call it an obsession) with water drops began when I bought a Nikon D200 last summer. Sadly, the lens I wanted was out of stock. There was no way I was going to just look at my camera body while I waited, so I picked up a Nikkor 60mm macro. Through that lens I discovered worlds of complexity hidden within the simplest tiny drops of water.

I’m often asked if the images inside the water drops are real or the product of Photoshop. Let me assure you they are real, and anyone can find them if they know how to look. Simple physics produces these tiny, beautiful and common images. Water is cohesive, it naturally bonds together in the shape of a sphere, and in that shape it functions as a miniature lens that will refract nearby objects. Using that organic lens as seen through your technological lens, will allow you to explore those tiny, complex worlds.

The water drop photos on my stream have been the result of an evolutional process. My most viewed, most faved and most interesting photo (according to flickr) was taken almost by luck, lying flat on my belly using a Diet Coke can as tripod. But after a great deal of trial and error, I’ve come up with a few simple, consistent steps for more easily creating a water drop photograph.

1. Focus
2. Focus
3. Composition
4. Background

1. Focus: No, that's not a typo; focus is listed twice, and for a very good reason. It’s necessary to consider the focus of the water drop itself as well as the focus of the subject displayed within the drop. My initial concern is the water drop itself and the plant on which the drop is located. I like to set my camera to aperture priority to control the depth of field. The trick is to have enough depth of field so the drop and the plant (and maybe some nearby drops) are all in focus, while leaving the background sufficiently blurred so it doesn't compete for attention. I generally use f8 to f10 but I’ll sometimes stop down to f18 if the background does not need as much blur. I also find I get a sharper focus by backing away just a little and cropping the photo, rather than getting as close as possible in an attempt to get maximum magnification.

2. Focus: As seen in the example above, the water drop is in focus as is the image of the flower seen through the water drop, but the flower itself is not in focus. That effect is achieved not by adjusting the camera, but by relying on the water drop to act as a fixed focal lens. In other words, instead of adjusting the camera I adjust the object I want to appear within the water drop. I simply move it back or forward until I've found the clarity of focus I want. Some photos look better with blurred refractions. For the greatest clarity I've found the object should be 3-4 inches behind the water drop. This, of course, may vary if using a different macro lens. Be sure to experiment.

3. Composition: Obviously, the guidelines for good composition apply to water drop photographs. Attention should be given to the Rule of Thirds, to simplicity, to the geometry within the frame, and to all the usual elements of visual composition. It's important to remember, though, when photographing water drops that the very shape of the drop influences compositional decisions. Since the lens of the water drop is spherical (or nearly so), slight adjustments in the camera position…left, right, up, down…can have a radical effect on what is seen within the drop. Again, experiment.

4. Background: If you're working from nature, your control over the background is necessarily limited. You have to work with what you've got. As mentioned earlier, the unique qualities of the organic lens formed by a drop of water allows you to make mi

I must admit to experiencing a moderate amount of dissatisfaction with my photography lately. It is not that I am not producing images I like, I am. In fact my success ration of frames shot versus those kept and used is higher than it ever has been. That is all good. Rather my dissatisfaction stems from noticing patterns developing in how and what and where I photograph.

I don't get out as much as I used to. Or rather I do, but just not to the same places. Specifically urban areas. Specifically Portland, the city I live. I am amused at times by how often I use my days off to get out of this city.

That bugs me just a tad. But it is ok, because it is only natural. I see it in a lot of other photographers I know, who think escape, artistic and otherwise, requires driving out to experience the natural world.

But then I wonder, "Wait, what exactly is the natural world? I mean, it's opposite is either unnatural or supernatural. Neither of those really describe cities and urban areas. Aren't humans themselves natural? And therefore all that we build is too." I know, it is definition, it is context. It is how we define words and meaning.

It is how we define ourselves.

Not to drift Orwellian. I just tend to fight that sort of thinking when I notice it sprouting up in myself. Anyway, I was talking about dissatisfaction. See, I used to love going downtown at night or on my Sundays off. Wandering all day long. Grabbing a bite to eat at a sidewalk cafe and just people watch (and photograph). This has been one aspect of my photography that has dipped a bit. Ok, a lot. One reason for this is because photography has become more of a social exercise for me, not a bad thing, but those photographers I tend to go out shooting with would rather hike a dusty trail in the Gorge than pound pavement in the city (also not a bad thing).

But even this is just scratching the surface. I guess much of my dissatisfaction comes from the fear that I am becoming more predictable, to myself. I know plenty out there will argue that my stream is varied and that is what they love. I mix it up, I am always forwarding new ideas, etc etc. I appreciate the sentiments folk, and don't be offended if I disagree, which I do.

There are a lot of things I like about Flickr. And I recommend this site to a lot of people during the course of the week, for a lot of good reasons. But I think one of the things I dislike about it the most is that it is almost too ... content. Too much of the communication, be it verbal or visual, that goes on here tends to be too content with how things are, with exploring what has already been discovered, as opposed to blazing new ground, to thinking of new ideas and concepts.

And that is the challenge I always try to face myself against. And yes, frankly, it is like trying to teach yourself to fly so you can race to the stars. In a sense, it is a goal you can never really achieve, but one you must always try to. Otherwise you're Earthbound.

I like taking cameras and trying to use them in all the ways they were never intended. I like taking the rules of photography, and proving them breakable. But more importantly, I like taking perceptions, mine especially, and constantly challenging them. Because that is how we grow. The more we push our boundaries, the larger an area they come to encompass.

And this is where I grow just a tad dissatisfied with myself. I think my photography is about as strong visually as it ever has been. But it is becoming, for me, too familiar. It is not about the quality of my images, it is more about the fact that I am just finding new ways to retrace the same old steps. In a certain sense, I am becoming formulaic. Maybe it is a complicated enough formula that I am following as to not be easily identifiable, but to me too often it still feels formulaic.

The difference is pretty slight, but I know it when I show up somewhere and I think "This would look great super wide with my pinhole" and I shoot it thus. Or I think, "Holga panoramic". My list is long, but it is still a finite list. It has been a while since I actually went out to attempt a photographic process that I was completely unsure of the possible results. It has been awhile since I felt like I was stumbling through a dark room looking for the light switch.

I miss those dark rooms, because finding that switch always reveals fascinating new areas to explore. And that is the difference. Sure these "rooms" I explore now still yield new finds. And if one hops around too much, always trying new things without ever really achieving sufficiency with any of them they have no depth. But the other extreme is to sacrifice breadth. And I want both. I think both is possible too. Or at least striving for them both I know beyond a doubt makes me better at what I do.

This whole line of thought began because I was noticing how easily a majority o

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