journal
Since I moved to San Francisco last year, Yosemite has become one of my favorite locations to visit when the conditions are right. There was some snow in the forecast so I decided to make the trip, but ultimately I only got rain. A visit to Yosemite never disappoints though, and I got to make some beautiful images... and stand, once again, in awe in that breathtaking valley.
Back in 2017, I went on a 2-month photography road trip across the American Southwest. At the time, I was shooting film exclusively, so I stocked up: I bought 100 rolls of medium format Ilford HP5 film, and hit the road with everything I needed to shoot, develop and scan it all on the road.
There are so many spots within an hour drive from where I live now, locations I had neglected for very long. It was about time to fix it.
I believe that trying to be original for the sake of it is counterproductive, and ultimately impossible. Instead of worrying about what others have or haven’t done, we should focus on being true to ourselves and photographing subjects that resonate with us. If that’s an iconic location, so be it. If it’s something no one else has photographed before, that’s great. Perhaps it's a combination of both.
Outdoor photography gets romanticized often, but the reality can be very harsh for most of us. A dream job is still a job, after all.
In this video, I talk about why I took the step of quitting my job and becoming a full-time photographer, how to make money with photography, and some practical tips.
With TikTok facing a potential ban and Instagram ruining profile grids, many creators are questioning if building a presence on social media is worth the effort, given the uncertainty of the medium.
I’ve always advocated for personal websites and blogs: a platform you can truly own, free from the whims of tech billionaires. At the same time, though, I don’t shy away from sharing my work on social media.
These days, a website feels like opening a studio in a quiet, rundown part of town, while everyone is hanging out at the mall. It is flashy, lively, and all the cool kids are there. They even offer us a little corner for free, so we can speak our truths to the whole world.
That’s until the mall starts charging a fee and diverting visitors to the business placing the highest bids. Over time, you also realize that even though you got to interact with a lot of visitors, most of those interactions were fleeting. You’ve never seen those people ever again.
Yet, among the noise, meaningful connections still happen every now and then at the mall. While I’ve connected with fellow photographers through my or their websites, most of my relationships with people in this field have come through social media.
This has never been a case of the website or social media, but about embracing both the website and social media. The most beautiful, personal website is useless if no one ever visits; and your social media presence relies on whatever happens to please the owner that day of the week.
There’s no ideal solution to the problem of reaching an audience in this noisy, loud world. I believe that embracing both worlds is the best we can do.
This is an excerpt from my eBook Creative B&W Editing in Lightroom:
"If you follow me on social media, you may have noticed that I add white borders to the images I share there. The idea behind these borders is to maintain a consistent perception of the images across various platforms and viewing conditions.
I have very little control over how my images are displayed on platforms I don’t own. With the relatively recent introduction of a dark mode (night mode) on mobile devices and apps, the same photograph can now be presented against a white background during the day and a dark one at night, effectively altering the perceived tonality of the image.
By adding borders to my photographs, I can have at least some control over how the viewers will perceive the tonality, regardless of how the platform decides to present my work.
On the platforms I fully control —and that is, my website—, I publish my images without borders while still ensuring a consistent experience."
--
Sadly, Instagram is rolling out a change to the way it displays profile grids, so I might have to tweak my approach a little. But this change further proves the importance of controlling how your imagery is presented.
I believe these little details matter a lot, as they can significantly change how a photograph is perceived.
It was a wonderful rainy and moody day of photography along the California Coast. This is a ambient video, with no commentary, something I should do more often.
I had heard nothing but praise about Dan Winters’ Road to Seeing. So I was very excited when the only copy at my local library became available.
It’s a beautifully crafted book--thick, heavy, gorgeous print, with of incredible photography, including Winters’ own work but also other renowned photographers. Anyone who bought it for the retail price of $50 when it came out definitely got their money’s worth. The book is no longer in print, and secondhand copies can sell for hundreds of dollars.
But what about that road to seeing?
I appreciate when a photographer shares their influences because it helps contextualize their work and their way of thinking. However, I feel like this takes too much space in the book, especially because it features work by well-known photographers like Henri Cartier-Bresson, W. Eugene Smith, or Robert Frank, hardly new to anyone with some knowledge of photography. The same applies to the section about the history of the medium.
The rest of the book is great, though. At times, the book reads like an autobiography, where Winters shares parts of his life at first seemingly unrelated to photography, but always connecting everything back to his growth as an artist. In my opinion, this explains much more about the photographer than a dull, boring explanation of composition and technical details.
A substantial part of the book is dedicated to his incredible portrait work. It’s always interesting to see how some of the most celebrated pictures came to be.
But my favorite sections of the book are those dedicated to his personal projects, from photographing bees to his son. They show how Winters has embraced the camera not just to create beautifully crafted portraits of celebrities, but also to document his personal life, what he was seeing at the moment, and make it all a work of art.
This is the big takeaway of the book, in my opinion. Even though there are some actionable strategies shared in these pages -photograph often, pay attention, don’t forget to live life-, Road to Seeing is not a field guide on how to make better photographs. Dan Winters shows us instead how he carved his own path, and he encourages us to do the same. That beyond the craft and all the technical considerations, the artist must be curious, persevere (even obsess), and explore.
Recommended read if you can find a copy at your local library. Otherwise, you might be able to buy an electronic version of it somewhere.
I’ve never been a big fan of New Year’s resolutions. I am too aware that they’re just mind tricks: whatever we’re trying to change on January 1st is just as hard to change as it was on July 23rd.
The human brain is fascinating, though, and mind tricks can work wonders. People can believe crazy things, and it’s that mindset that has propelled some of history’s greatest achievers to do what was previously impossible -- and others to fail spectacularly.
But I digress. I’m not a resolutions person. Last year, I made the mistake of writing down some goals I hoped to achieve in 2024. Some I accomplished; others I didn’t. I say mistake because looking at the “failures” didn’t exactly make my day any better.
Having specific goals can be a great motivator, but they come with risks. Many goals aren’t entirely within our control, even if they seem that way on the surface. Other goals are too shallow and miss the bigger picture.
For example, setting a goal to read a specific number of books in a year is admirable. But I think we’d all agree it’s much better to read only one book, but one that creates lasting change in your life, than to read 20 you forget within a week.
In 2025, as in previous years, I want to work more, learn more, and enjoy more. But I won’t be using any sort of yardstick to measure my success or failure when December 31st inevitably rolls around. Instead, I’m placing my trust in the power of compounding and focusing on one day at a time.
Every day, I want to either learn something new, create something, or enjoy something. These aren’t mutually exclusive. The days when I can do two, or even all three, will be the best days. How big or small those “somethings” are doesn’t matter; it all adds up in the end.
Here’s to a wonderful new year.
As a big part of the country freezes, and another burns, the weather here on the central coast of California should be considered nothing short of perfect.
I miss the foggy days of summer, though. I got plenty of that magical fog for a couple of months, but I didn’t set foot on the Golden Gate Bridge during that time. I’d already photographed it in those conditions before, and I guess I wanted to explore other spots in the city. Then the fog was gone, and I regretted not visiting it at least once.
A few days ago, the fog came back for a few hours, and I immediately knew where I was going. It was magical.
There’s no shortage of beautiful places in the world, but a handful of them feel truly especial under the right conditions. The Golden Gate Bridge gave me goosebumps the first day I walked on it in thick, heavy fog, and it continues to do so every time. The foghorns, the majestic towers, the water below.
I recommend using some good noice canceling headphones, though. It gets very loud from the traffic!
A few years ago, my in-laws were doing some repairs on their house. Their yard was littered with signs from all the construction companies involved in the project. Half-joking, I asked if they were getting a discount for the free advertising. I was surprised to learn from one of the contractors that this common practice is actually part of the contract.
I've always disliked how companies treat us like walking billboards. Look around, and you’ll see logos everywhere: from cars to clothes to most everyday objects. As I write this, I can easily spot over a dozen logos on my desk: my water bottle, notebooks, pens, hard drives, desk fan, phone charger, monitor, laptop, keyboard, and even the desk itself. There's so much visual clutter everywhere.
As you might have guessed from my photography work, I appreciate minimalist design, and I believe that most logos cheapen an otherwise well designed object. The best designs are probably those that are immediately recognizable without the need of a logo.
Bringing it back to photography: my Sony camera has 3 logos on it; plus at least a couple more on whatever lens I might be using. This is on top of other clutter like the model name, or things like "4k steadyshot inside". The tripod will have at least another two, one of the legs and another one on the plate. And so on.
I personally like to cover much of my camera gear with tape. I can't tape over everything, for example tape on the tripod will eventually start to slide and leave sticky residue everywhere. Still, I think cameras look better when they're as simple as possible.
I know, I know. This all might sound silly to most of you, but I find it incredibly distracting. I'm far from living a logo-free life, but I'm trying my best here.
The Tamron 28-200mm is, without a doubt,my all-time favorite lens. It’s rarely left my camera since I bought it 4 years ago, coming with me to several countries and through all kinds of conditions -- from the heat of the desert to bitterly cold blizzards. It’s never let me down, and I’ve take thousands of photographs I truly love with it.
I was perfectly happy with this lens... until I made the mistake of watching an old review of it. The reviewer found it soft at certain focal lengths, too slow, lacking optical stabilization, incapable of resolving detail for high-res sensors, and more. Their tests were clear and convincing, too.
What followed were a couple of days of unnecessary self-doubt. I’m dramatizing a bit here, but I wondered whether there was something wrong with me, how come I can’t see the flaws they were talking about in my photos?
To find out, I compared the Tamron to another one I own, the Sony 35mm GM, a lens that had gotten glowing reviews. The results were clear: the Tamron was soft.
And yet, that was not noticeable in the actual images or the prints I made of them. You have to zoom in to 200%, or beyond, to spot that softness in certain parts of the frame. If anything, the 35mm was too sharp.
After wasting a few hours running silly tests at home, I’m happy to report that I love my lens again, perhaps even more than before.
Take gear reviews with a big grain of salt. There’s nothing wrong with researching and understanding what is that you are getting for your money, especially when you are trying to decide between two similar lenses. But don’t forget to consider your unique needs.
That shiny prime lens might be sharper than the zoom, but will it help you get the shots you want? That big, fast zoom might be technically superior, but will the added weight leave you exhausted after an hour of shooting?
After all, photography is not a science.
After years of sharing my work online -my images, my workflow, my opinions, my successes and my mistakes- it still surprises me that most of the little “hate” I’ve received has been about how I treat my cameras.
This happens less now that I’ve switched to digital -apparently, no one seems to care about the fate of a soulless Sony camera. But it was a different story when I used to shoot film with my beloved Bronica SQ-Ai. You’d think I was committing some kind of crime whenever I showed that camera getting rained on. I probably caused some panic attacks the day I dropped it on a sandy beach.
And because the work I created with that beauty is still out there, every once in a while I get another message along those lines.
Whenever I get one of these messages, I think of something I read a while ago about books, which I’ve adapted to cameras: “buying books and reading books are two completely different hobbies”.
There’s nothing wrong with appreciating and loving the design of a beautifully crafted camera, even if it only serves as decoration on a shelf. Just don’t expect everyone to feel the same way towards devices that were meant to take photos out in the field, in the real world.
I visit a location I've been neglecting, despite being not too far from where I live: Bodega Bay and the Sonoma Coast. I was expecting some weather and I got plenty of it. Rain, mist, wind, and high surf. I loved it.
I like to say that instead of photographing a location, I capture the conditions. That’s why I often don’t go somewhere, I go there when something is happening.
That was the case for my last trip to Lake Tahoe. I had been there a few years ago, and struggled with the image-making. I knew the place had potential; I just needed the conditions that work best for me.
Several days before the trip, I noticed the forecast: up to a foot of snow in the Tahoe area. I have some of my favorite spots in the weather app, so I’m almost constantly checking the conditions around me.
Of course, long-term forecasts can be little more than educated guesses, especially when it comes to predicting the weather up in the mountains. So, I waited until the last minute to book a room, once it was pretty clear the snow was coming.
Luckily, prices not only didn’t go up... they dropped. Mid-December is low season in Tahoe. It’s cold for swimming and hiking, but too early for skiing and the holidays. I find that when conditions are bad for crowds, they usually make for good photography… and for finding relatively affordable lodging.
I am so glad I gave Tahoe another chance. After all, there are no bad places to photograph, only bad conditions.
My search for bad weather takes me to Lake Tahoe this time, where up to a foot of snow is expected. An adventure full of struggles, good moments, frustrating times, and some nice images.
It’s kind of embarrassing that I never thought of using this Lightroom’s feature until this week…
You might have noticed I have an archive here on my website. Sadly, it’s lagging behind what I share on the blog and on social media. Many of my best images aren’t there yet, and that’s a shame. Anyway, I finally got to upload some of the photos I made this year, so at least the archives for San Francisco, Southern California, and Yosemite are pretty much up to date.
I still have so much work to do to get the archive to be what is supposed to be: a truthful representation of my photography.
The process of updating my archive would’ve been much easier and faster if I had tagged my photos properly after making them. You see, I give every single one of my images a title, but I never wrote them down anywhere other than the blog or social media post where I shared them. So when the time comes to upload a photograph to the archive, I have to look it up. A waste of time.
Why would I care about the title? Well, it’s important to me to keep those titles consistent between platforms because I get many emails with references to some of my images by title. I also use them in books and prints.
Well, turns out, Lightroom has always had a useful field in the info tab appropriately called Title. I knew this, but for whatever reason, I never thought of using it. It is a lot of work, but it would have saved me so much time now. So little by little, photo by photo, I’m starting to populate that field.
I’ve been updating other fields with the location information as well because you never know when that is going to come in handy. Just trying to save some time for my future self.
An extra bonus I get from having the title in Lightroom: I can now look up a photograph by title and find it instantly!
When we walk with a camera in hand, we tend to focus on what's in front of us, to the sides as we pass by, or up and down for the more observants among us. But rarely do we look back.
No matter which direction we’re walking, the light is always different behind us. Something we might have dismissed at first glance could reveal itself as extraordinary when viewed from the opposite angle.
Looking back isn’t an easy habit to develop, but it's one that will pay off.
You might be wondering if this will make our walks longer. Absolutely. Much longer. But that’s the point.
In this video, I visit a few locations in the American Southwest, where I find very different conditions: from foggy cemeteries in San Diego, to slot canyons in the Anza-Borrego desert.
