There’s a lot of accepted wisdom in photography that’s actually without merit, whether it’s information from outdated textbooks or experience passed on by people who misunderstood photographic principles (or, indeed, both of the above). 

I recently came across this video on YouTube by Mads Peter Iversen, an award-winning fine art landscape photographer from Denmark. Taking aim at everything from “landscape lenses” to lens compression, Iversen’s video is titled “Stop This Photography Nonsense!” and sets out to correct some of the misinformation as he sees it. 

“Within photography there are a lot of sayings that are often being presented as facts or a rule, and they’re just being repeated again and again and again – but in the end they are simply just nonsense, and we will be better off if we simply just stop saying it,” he says.

The video is embedded below, and is well worth a watch! I won’t spoil the other nonsense on his list, but I’d like to share some of his thoughts on the old “underexpose to preserve highlights” rule…

“The next nonsense I think we should stop saying is that you need to expose to the left, or you need to underexpose, because it’s easier to recover the shadows than it is recovering the highlights. 

“Yes you can blow the highlights, but you can most certainly also blow the shadows, and there aren’t as much detail in those underexposed shadows as you would want to think there is. Yes, these days we do have amazing noise reduction software, but you still need to just make a proper exposure – it’s actually really that simple. 

“So as I’ve explained in other videos, you need to expose to the right but you do not want to clip the highlights. Overexposing the photo and clipping the highlights are two different things. You can most certainly overexpose a photo and then bring down all that information in post-processing, so you actually do want to overexpose the photo but you do not want to clip the highlights. 

“And it’s very important that we put those two things together in the same sentence: overexpose, but don’t clip the highlights. Because then you actually get more information onto your sensor you can then bring it down in post-processing and you then have a cleaner photo. 

“To get a proper exposure is very very simple… there’s no right or wrong histogram, there’s just an optimal exposure. And right now as you can see as I decrease my shutter speed I get a darker and darker and darker photo. And obviously I don’t want to underexpose it – yes I can bring it up in Photoshop or Lightroom, but then I just get a noisy photo. 

“I just want to make a proper exposure to begin with, which is about here, so underexposing a photo on purpose because it’s easier to bring out the shadows is just nonsense. Just get a proper exposure from the beginning, expose to the right, but don’t clip the highlights – it’s that simple.”

Check out my video that explains what is exposure in photography. And since Iversen doesn’t like calling them the best landscape lenses, take a look at the best wide-angle lenses that can also be used to shoot landscapes!

For these Sunday posts in January, I want to listen to how people with immigration or refugee experiences find sustenance and purpose in difficult times.

The women in Rania Matar’s photographs are self-assured, reflective, and beautiful. Some appear downcast or mournful; others are slyly amused. Some gaze directly at the camera; others stare into the distance or look inward, eyes closed. Around them are signs that all is not right in the world – razor wire, broken glass, ocean trash, the moldering carpet of a once-glorious theater. In various poses, the women claim the spaces around them – climbing, reclining, floating, peering through archways, standing atop ruins, or simply posing with confidence. The one thing they are not is passive.

To back up a step, I’ve been fascinated recently with the artwork of Rania Matar a Lebanese-Palestinian-American photographer who splits her time between Boston, New York, and Beirut. I found her work through Sukoon, an excellent journal of Arab-themed art and literature founded by my friend Rewa Zeinati. Rania’s subjects are primarily Lebanese, Palestinian, and American women. I couldn’t help but view her work in light of the violence in Gaza and Lebanon, and I reached out to ask if she would talk about her portraits.

She immediately explained that “portraits” doesn’t fully capture her collaborative approach. She and her subjects choose locations together, explore them together, and, in her recent work in Beirut, frequently find settings that reflect the impacts of decades of war.

“We always go somewhere and end up somewhere better than we expected,” she said in a phone call. “There’s an element of risk-taking, whether we’re climbing into places or getting in the water. I’m in awe of how much these women are willing to do.

“In Lebanon, there’s an element of danger that’s part of life, period. So, taking smaller risks during the shoot seems to connect with our relationship with the place.”

Rania was born in Lebanon and left when she was twenty, nine years after civil war broke out in 1975. She began her professional life as an architect, but grew serious about photography after 9/11, wanting to portray her daughters and other Arab women with more nuance and humanity than the “us vs. them” narratives she saw in the media. The work led to multiple exhibitions, a Guggenheim fellowship, and four books. Her most recent project, “50 Years Later – Where Do I Go?” explores the ongoing fallout of the Lebanese Civil War.

“It defined who I am,” she said. “I left the country because of it, and I feel like history keeps repeating itself. Now these women who are the age I was when I left are often scrambling to leave the country. Every person has a personal story in relating to their country, but it’s also part of a collective story. Even the women who don’t live in Lebanon anymore, they keep coming back, like I do.”

Her father was Palestinian, and I asked how the war in Gaza has affected her art. It’s too soon to tell, she said. But no violence is ever fully isolated. The destruction from decades of war, the devastating 2020 explosion at the Port of Beirut, and her father’s death last year all find expression in her photographs, she said.

One of her most arresting photos, to me, shows a woman standing on the backs of seats in an ornate but decrepit theater. The woman, Rhea, is a performance artist, and the setting is the Piccadilly Theatre in Beirut, a prominent arts venue in the 1960s and 70s. Despite repeated plans and promises to restore the theatre, it continues to decay.

And yet, for all the loss the photo portrays, there’s something disruptive, even playful, in the way Rhea strides atop the seats in a flowing dress, her arms splayed as if considering taking flight.

“Too often we see women from the Arab world portrayed as oppressed or illiterate,” Rania told me. “To me, they’re goddesses. In this work I’m making, these women have nothing oppressed about them.”

Another young woman contacted Rania online, embodying contradictions she found fascinating. She wore a black head covering yet wanted to be portrayed to the world. Her Instagram profile read “Follow me, I’m toxic.” They met in a high-rise apartment overlooking the Mediterranean coast. The woman, Alae, holds a small mirror that captures her focused gaze while the cityscape lies beyond. Just to the right of her mirror is the grain silo damaged in the 2020 explosion, a site of horrific destruction bathed in warm sunlight and set against the tranquil sea.

I asked Rania the question that has animated this blog series: What gives you sustenance, artistically or personally, during difficult times? But I also realized the question was unnecessary. Like my Ukrainian friend Olesia Markovic, my Afghan neighbor Atiqullah Ayubi, and the exiled Uyghur poet Tahir Hamut, Rania answers not through ideas but through her life. Her work, and the trust she builds in creating it, shines light against dehumanization.

One last thought. My favorite work of Rania’s is not a photograph but a short video she posted at the new year. (Take a quick look–but then come back!) In it, a woman appears quivering in a mirror lying in shallow water on a sandy beach. A wave washes over, turning her reflection into a shimmering blur. Her likeness begins to reappear until another wave washes over.

It delighted me with all the possible metaphors at play: We’re united in an ocean of humanity. The only constant is change. Clarity may last for only an instant. And celebrating that flicker of clarity–that stunning flash of light in the water–is worthwhile.

But I’m also reminded that what you see depends on where you stand. So I wanted to know what Rania sees in the video.

“To me, it’s about the new year and things beginning and ending,” she said. “But it’s also about the Mediterranean and about erasure and erasing. I kept relating it back to what’s happening in Gaza. I felt like it works on different levels.

“I’m hoping that people can see that in a lot of these images. I don’t want them to be sad pictures of destruction. You see enough of that. For me, it’s also about creativity and being present in the moment and having agency over it. It’s about putting your imprint on the place.”

Photos courtesy Rania Matar. See more at raniamatar.com.
Rania’s photo by Helena Goessens.

Related

Stéphane Duroy spent nearly two years in the late 1980s photographing west African immigrants in Paris, in particular in the Îlot Chalon, a district behind the Gare de Lyon that had been home to different waves of arrivals in the city – Italian, Chinese, Moroccan – for two centuries. His series Harlem-sur-Seine – the title an ironic reference to the progressive jazz-age integration of the 1920s – won him a World Press Photographer award.

Revisiting that series now, in a new book of Duroy’s pictures, is to be cast into a place of extreme dereliction. From the early 1980s, when the Îlot Chalon had become notorious as the centre of the heroin trade in the city, the Parisian authorities had partly demolished the housing in the area, in an effort to make it unliveable, and prepare for urban renewal that involved a number of chain hotels and an extension of the station. Two drug-related murders in 1984 were used as the pretext to accelerate this policy. A New York Times report from that year suggested that the area, deliberately abandoned by the authorities, was home to 6,000 squatters, most of them Senegalese, who “coexisted with gangs and drug dealers”.

Duroy’s pictures got inside those precarious lives to suggest a whole language of desperation and survival. Children look out from bare rooms at bulldozers; washing is strung from windows of condemned blocks; men pound punchbags in improvised gyms; the cafes and the boucheries and the boulangeries are all boarded up. Sometimes, as in this picture, it is surreal detail that tells that story: the women’s improvised shower caps may protect them from Parisian rain, but the sodden phone book and the resignation in those eyes appear to render that day’s mission once again redundant.

• Stéphane Duroy: Photo Pocheis published by Editions Actes Sud (€14.50); a retrospective of Duroy’s work is at Galerie Vu, Paris until 23 February

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published on April 1, 2022. It has since been updated.

Giving birth is one of the most intense experiences and includes a rush of emotions ranging from anxiety and fear to exhaustion, relief and joy. Having a child is life-altering and it’s natural for people to document that event. When San Francisco photographer Lisa Robinson was giving birth to her second child, daughter Anora, she decided to take photos of the moments leading up to the birth as a means of coping with the intense event and to capture memories lasting a lifetime. She was both nervous and excited at the same time. She and her husband, Alec, already had a 9-year-old son and had been trying to get pregnant again for years. It was a frustrating and exhausting journey for the pair as she had suffered two miscarriages.

The pair had given up on having a second child and stopped trying after multiple failed attempts. However, they were pleasantly surprised when she got pregnant. It was a miracle as far as they were concerned. When it came to delivering the baby, they were both nervous. Robinson wanted to document the birth of her daughter and brought her camera along. It was also her way of calming her nerves. It started out as a joke between her and Alec, but then Robinson thought to herself, “Why not?” Alec was game and said it would be great if she could actually take pictures.

They asked the hospital staff if it would be okay and they all encouraged her. Her doctors and nurses felt it could serve as a nice distraction if she had trouble managing the pain or stress of giving birth. She soon realized that it wasn’t going to be easy to hold the camera steady as her body was shaking. She was in labor and she picked up the camera in between her contractions to take pictures from the room. 

Robinson took pictures even when she started pushing. “Eventually, when it was time to push and I was able to take the photos as I was pushing, I focused on my daughter and my husband and not so much the camera,” she told Upworthy. Robinson photographed portraits and wedding events for a living, but turning the camera on herself and her family in such a moment was a surreal experience. “I didn’t know if I was in focus or capturing everything but it was amazing to do.” The pictures she ended up capturing were beautiful and captured the emotions of giving birth. “I couldn’t have had an easier birth,” said Robinson, reported TODAY.

After her daughter was born, she handed the camera off to her mother, who continued to take pictures. Of all the pictures Robinson took, the one of Alec breaking down on seeing the baby and of the baby alone really stood out. “Everybody was supportive and kind of surprised that I was able to capture things throughout. I even remember laughing along with them at one point as I was pushing,” recalled Robinson.

Robinson was glad she went through with it, especially considering all the memories she managed to capture of Anora’s birth. It also helped her through labor. When asked if she would recommend the idea to other moms-to-be, she said it was very subjective. One of the main reasons it worked for her was that it was centered around her profession, which is also her hobby—photography. It need not be the same for everyone else. Some might find it more taxing or tiring to take pictures while giving birth. But, if you’re into photography and want to capture those moments, then why not. Give it a shot. The only advice she had for those who wanted to try it was: “Don’t put pressure on yourself to get ‘the shot.'” She also said it was important to “enjoy the moment as much as you can.”

Hello, baby Anora! 

Alec gets emotional

Anora breastfeeding

Lisa with Anora, captured by her mother

All smiles!

Summary:
The Leica Elmarit-M 28mm f/2.8 ASPH is a high-performance, ultra-compact wide-angle lens designed for Leica’s M-series rangefinder cameras. Known for its superior optical quality and portable design, this lens is favored by street, landscape, and documentary photographers. Its aspherical elements ensure sharp images with minimal distortion, while the lens’s small form factor makes it a favored choice for photographers on the go.

Introduction to the Elmarit 28mm ASPH

The Elmarit 28mm ASPH is an acclaimed piece of photography equipment developed by Leica Camera AG. As one of the most respected names in the industry, Leica is synonymous with quality, craftsmanship, and optical excellence. The Elmarit name is designated for lenses with a maximum aperture of f/2.8, while ASPH indicates that the lens incorporates aspherical elements to improve image quality.

Optical Design and Performance

This lens features a sophisticated optical design with several aspherical elements, which serve to correct spherical aberrations and other optical imperfections. The result is images with exceptional clarity, contrast, and minimal distortion. The use of special glass types also contributes to the suppression of chromatic aberrations, leading to images with true-to-life color rendering.

Compact Form Factor and Build Quality

Leica lenses are renowned for their precise engineering and durable construction. The Elmarit 28mm ASPH is no exception, being made of high-quality materials that can withstand the demands of professional use. Its compact form factors make it an excellent choice for photographers who require a lightweight setup without sacrificing optical performance.

Usage and Versatility

The 28mm focal length is versatile, perfect for capturing expansive landscapes, tight urban scenes, and dynamic reportage shots alike. The relatively wide field of view, combined with the lens’s compact size, makes it ideal for candid photography where discretion is key.

Comparisons and Market Position

In the market of high-quality lenses, the Elmarit 28mm ASPH holds its place as a lens that offers a balance of performance and portability. Its fast f/2.8 aperture isn’t the widest among wide-angle options, but it provides a good balance between low-light capability and maintaining a compact size. The lens competes with offerings from other manufacturers, such as Zeiss and Voigtlander, which produce lenses with similar focal lengths for the M-mount system.

FAQs:

What does ASPH mean on a Leica lens?
ASPH refers to ‘aspherical lens design’ which means the lens has one or more aspherical elements. These elements help reduce aberrations and improve overall image clarity and sharpness.

Is the Leica Elmarit 28mm f/2.8 lens suitable for low-light photography?
While an aperture of f/2.8 is not the widest available, it allows a good amount of light to enter, making the lens relatively suitable for low-light photography. However, there are other lenses with larger apertures that might perform better in dim conditions.

What type of photography is the Elmarit 28mm ASPH best for?
This lens is well-suited for street, landscape, architecture, and documentary photography due to its wide-angle perspective and high-quality optics.

Can the Elmarit 28mm ASPH be used on non-Leica cameras?
It is designed for the M-mount system, but adapters can often enable use on different camera systems, though functionality and performance might vary.

How does the build quality of the Elmarit 28mm ASPH compare to other lenses?
Leica lenses are known for exceptional build quality, precision engineering, and use of premium materials. The Elmarit 28mm ASPH lens is typically considered among the best in its class for construction and durability.

For further reading and research on the Elmarit 28mm ASPH, one can visit the official Leica website at www.leica-camera.com. Additional reviews and user experiences can be found on photography forums and communities dedicated to Leica and rangefinder cameras.

Leokadia Głogulska is an emerging figure in the field of environmental technology, known for her groundbreaking work in developing sustainable urban infrastructure solutions. Her research focuses on integrating green technologies in urban planning, aiming to reduce environmental impact while enhancing livability in cities. Głogulska’s innovative approaches to renewable energy usage, waste management, and eco-friendly transportation systems have garnered attention for their practicality and effectiveness. Her contributions are increasingly influential in shaping policies and practices towards more sustainable and resilient urban environments.