Snap Shots: by Harry Flashman

Can you be a self-taught master photographer?

Blurry action in the rain

Action in the rain

In one word - Yes! There are many of the world’s photographic greats who taught themselves how to shoot. And quite frankly, with the number of books available on the subject from photographers such as Michael Freeman or some of the Kodak series, there is no reason why you cannot emulate the greats, and begin to produce better photographs yourself. (Or you may even keep some of these columns as reference guides!)
The question is how? The answer is by observation and by recording. I have always recommended that all new photographers should keep a notebook and just jot down a few details of the settings used, which can later be referred to, if the end result was what you wanted. Use the same settings in the future and you have reproducible results. And reproducible pictures. I don’t care if you are using a digital everything, all-singing, all-dancing automatic camera. Even noting down whether the photograph was taken with the light, or against the light (known as contre-jour, because much of early photographic work came from France) is a start.
Take for example, the way to stop the action to get shots in the rain like photo number 2 with this week’s column. This follows a well known path to get these sorts of shots, but if you haven’t noted the details at some stage in your photography career then you will not get them, but will end up with shots like number 1.
Let’s analyze both these shots to show just how they were produced. For shot 1, the shutter speed was 1/30th of a second and the aperture was f 5.6, and for shot 2 the shutter speed was 1/30th of a second and the aperture f 5.6! So far, both of them were identical, so what was the difference to get these very different photographs?
The secret was in technique, in this case, called panning. With photo number 1, I just held the camera still and snapped the motorcycle as it came into view in the viewfinder. That 1/30th shutter speed was enough to stop the slowly moving baht bus, but not enough to stop the faster motorcycle, which was also closer to the camera. The end result was a blurred motorcycle, which in itself does indicate action and movement, but not what I would call a very satisfying picture.
Now to photograph number 2. This was taken by the same manual camera, and the focus was fixed at the point where the shot was taken, however, the camera was not fixed in position as it was in photo number 1. I looked up the road and placed the motorcycle in the center of the viewfinder as it came towards me, then by smoothly swinging the camera in a horizontal arc and keeping the motorcycle in the center popped the shutter when the subject was level with me, continuing to follow its course as it went away. This is important, as otherwise you will have the situation of a ‘fixed’ camera and a moving subject, as to get these panning shots correctly you need a moving camera and the moving target subject. As you can see, the end result was most satisfactory. The camera was moving faster in its arc than the slower baht bus, so it was blurred, while since the camera was moving at the same relative speed as the motorcycle, it was ‘stopped’ even though the shutter speed was only 1/30th of a second.
However, the lesson to be learned here was the simple fact I had done this before, so I knew what to do. Originally I wrote it down in my notebook! Just the same way I suggest you do!

Having the operation

AI don’t want to seem predictable, but I have to say that there’s something about the repetitious nature of my husband that I find tedious. Perhaps it’s inevitable after fifteen years of marriage? I mean, it’s scary; I’ve known him for twenty four years, ever since I was fifteen. That’s how old my eldest daughter is now! You have to keep an element of unpredictability in your marriage to keep the freshness and by the way, by ‘unpredictability’ I don’t mean ‘uncertainty’. That’s something different and as I wrote a couple of weeks ago, is just a constant source of anxiety.
As for predictability, here’s an example. Whenever any of us in the family have an illness, an ache or a pain, up trumps Andy with, “Let me deal with it. I come from a medical family!” You know, writing this I realise that it probably sounds pompous and ridiculous but he says it in such a way that he is taking the mickey out of himself. He knows perfectly well that he knows nothing about medicine. I admit that he does come from a ‘medical family’ and he’s probably picked up a few things along the way, overheard conversations about this and that, but he’s not exactly qualified to make a medical judgment.
Mind you, there are plenty of people unqualified for their jobs who make judgments aren’t there? Now there’s predictability for you; they’re unqualified, make judgments and the judgments are particularly poor ones; should we be in the least bit surprised? I tell you one thing - if I was ever fired for being incompetent at something, I’m not sure I’d dare show my face in the place where I’d been sacked from. I hope I would have just a little bit more self respect. Andy’s father always used to say of arrogant people who never accepted that they had made a mistake (like Margaret Thatcher - who was his favourite target) that either they should ‘have the operation’ or that they had ‘already had the operation’. I think he was talking about a lobotomy.
I could understand why Andy’s Dad got upset with stupid people; I’ve got low tolerance for idiots myself. I’m talking about ‘stupid people’ as people who are nasty to others; spread false rumours about other people and create a cycle of ‘self-fulfilling’ prophecies for themselves. Because they cannot admit to themselves that maybe it’s them who are the problem. It kind of follows an obvious pattern; people like this are always complaining, often they are litigious. Always talking of suing someone else as if that proves that they are in some way better. Always blaming someone else, never ‘looking in the mirror’. Pathetic. Equally pathetic is when people are bullied into believing people like this; I think you call them, ‘lemmings’ in English. I’ve seen it so many times. For instance, you’ll meet someone for the first time and they’ll start demeaning someone for no apparent reason other than jumping on some bandwagon. Who out there is brave enough to say in front of others, “But hold on, have you ever met this person?” And then they’ll hesitate and say, “Er, well, no, actually.” Who’s the idiot now? It’s like they never escaped from their little playground of bullies.
The main reason I can’t stand this blind ignorance is because this is how prejudice grows into hatred and a quick look back at the last century will warn you of the dangers of this. In fact, you see it around the world now. Worse still, the same people who demonstrate blind prejudice, almost on a daily basis, will also be the first to condemn extremist groups around the world who do the same. That’s why extremists of all kinds hate people who work towards bringing real people back together. Oh dear, I seem to have digressed. You know how it is, though, when something really gets you?
Back to ‘having the operation’. When I was younger, I wasn’t really sympathetic to people who wanted to have plastic surgery. The very word ‘plastic’ made me think of something fake and usually unnecessary. On the television and in the newspapers, you’d see pictures of famous people whose faces had been pulled, stretched, squeezed, ‘lifted’ and stuck down again. It’s probably too dangerous to mention any by name; people are really sensitive about it. But it’s a bit difficult not to mention something when suddenly one day, someone’s wrinkles aren’t there anymore!
Once, I tried complementing a guy I knew, who went out for lunch bald and came back with some hair. I mean, what do you say? You can’t say nothing, can you? I thought, “I’ll just be up front about it” and I said, “Hey, Elliot. Nice hair piece. It looks really good!” (OK so I lied) Elliot looked up, face red as a tomato and looked at me straight in the eyes before replying, “What hair piece?” I mean, really, what can you say to that? Ok, so I wouldn’t do it myself, but there’s nothing wrong with someone doing something to themselves if they feel better as a result, is there? But why pretend it hasn’t happened? Elliot was only kidding himself!
I think that these days, it’s a much more positive environment to have plastic surgery done; I’ve change my view from when I was younger and it’s not just because I’m older. Things are much more professional, safer and socially accepted. So if I want to have an operation on my boobs, for example, then I’ll happily go and do it and I’ll feel great about it. It’ll take a weight off my back, I can tell you. And I love the fact that women get together and celebrate what they can do to their bodies; to make them feel better about themselves. Brilliant. Nowadays, it’s just like going to the dentist, or the doctor. It’s become an accepted part of living in the 21st century and to me, that’s just great.
Next week: Never say ‘never’
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Learn to Live to Learn  by Andrew Watson

Sowing the seeds of success

Richard Hayward is a modest yet high achieving man. Last month, he quietly, humbly, efficiently and quite magnificently, presided over one of the most sensational school events ever held in South East Asia. The Fobissea Music Festival crowned a dramatic and impressive first six months in the job and as I wrote at the climax to the gala concert, “In a rousing crescendo of dramatic harmony, all present bore witness in the unforgiving beauty of an unforgettable moment, to a new reality; Garden International School had arrived.” Naturally, Richard deflects credit for the outstanding achievement onto his colleagues, “Staff lined up to help from all aspects of school life.” It’s essentially true, of course. You can’t pull off something like Fobissea without tremendous teamwork.

Richard Hayward, the consummate gardener.
So how has he found working in the lush idyll that is Garden International School, since November no longer a backwater? “I suppose it’s a funny thing but most people knew that when I came to this school that things were hopefully going to be a little bit more organised,” Richard tells me in a quiet authoritative voice which commands attention. “I do feel that some things had slipped.” But he is positively upbeat about the future and speaks eloquently and with great enthusiasm about the school community, which has been very supportive.
Is it a case of wanting the parent body to feel included and assured that they have a voice? “Definitely! The parents are essentially the ‘buyers of our product’, which is an international school education and we have to tailor it towards them. But there must be common international standards. I bring mine from my experience and teachers bring theirs from their experiences and I believe we have a high general set of standards.”
The question of ‘common international standards’ is one that is still being explored through research at governmental and non-governmental level; a never ending quest perhaps? After all, international schools are a relatively new phenomenon and for a variety of reasons, when you scratch not too far from the surface, many schools’ ‘standards’ seem variable at best, especially when it comes down to ethics. Clearly, immorality has no place in Richard’s brave new world.
Does he think there’s a need to involve parents as stakeholders and partners in being educated about things like principles and practice in international education? After all, there’s bound to be that thing people call ‘perceptions’ flying around (or lies?) which might benefit from a dose of academic rigour (or truth?)? “Yes, sure, we have to be a source of information as well. As a parent, it’s usually when you don’t feel informed that you come back to the school and say, ‘look there’s been a breakdown in communication,’ but if you’re kept informed and you’re kept involved, then you’re usually a happy parent.” Richard ponders a while before adding, “Sometimes, it can be difficult because one or two parents might have some very strong views. But at what point do you say, ‘Ok, we will adjust things’?”
Richard recognises that the professional expertise in the parent body is something to be respected, “These are parents who in their own individual fields are in great positions, have managed their own businesses and have lots of experience. They know how an organisation should be run. But I think everybody’s pretty happy. I am always keen to see parents more involved actively in school.”
Living and teaching in Thailand of course, is a veritable delight. Has Richard noticed the culturally embedded respect that Thais have for teachers? “I have!” he smiles, “I think it’s a pleasure for most people to come here and parents are so respectful of the teachers.”
Nonetheless, he feels that it is the school’s duty to explain what they are doing and say, “Well, actually this is normal and good practice.” He continues, “Whilst our western parents have been through similar schools … (Richard is considering his words carefully and is evidently a deep thinker) … I’ll give you a small example of a situation where I think I’ve been fairly lenient. Haircuts; what exactly is an acceptable length of hair in an international school? I’ve gone for the middle ground just to keep to a rational common standard. We are extremely liberal in our views, really. Nonetheless, a Thai parent coming with Eastern values, or from a Thai school where it’s far stricter, might be expected to view this situation differently to Westerners. It’s all a matter of balance and judgment. I never want parents to stop giving their opinion. When I don’t get the opinions of the parents, I get worried; I want them to feel involved.”
Richard speaks with obvious passion for his role, one which he is able to reinforce with significant, individual, academic achievement. He seems very English, but it transpires that he’s been a global nomad ever since he was born. “I started my life in Scotland,” Richard tells me with great nostalgia as if he’s telling a story to his children, “My mum had flown back from Singapore. Two weeks later we flew back and this time I was on the outside! In Singapore, my father flew big Hercules transport planes for air sea rescue in the South China Sea. Singapore was very different in those days,” he reminisces, “I still have a picture of me with Malaysia in the background … so growing up, living and working with Asian people is very normal for me.” Indeed, for he is married to a Filipino called Edna; they have two boys under five, James and Josh.
After Singapore, Richard’s father was stationed in Cyprus for a long time. It was then that he attended boarding school in the UK, at the stunningly gorgeous Rendcomb College in Gloucestershire, where he was what he touchingly refers to as an ‘abroad boy’. The army, university and Kenya followed (more of that next week) before he returned to Asia to lead Garden International School in Bangkok, which rather like the Rayong campus subsequently, experienced a significant upturn in its fortunes. Call it a coincidence if you will.
“I’ve been an expat all my life really,” he is happy to report, “and having grown up in Singapore, I have come almost full circle.” Rather appropriately perhaps, Richard reminds me of someone who demonstrates a combination of meticulous attention to detail, a great love for what they are doing and the patience to see a race through to its end. He is the consummate gardener, sowing the seeds of success.
Next week: In Safe Hands
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