Yesterday was the only day over the Easter weekend with a forecast of high probability of sunshine. It felt like pushing my luck going again so soon after last Sunday's trip out to Site B, and on a Saturday, too, when there's often workmen about, at least for part of the day. I'm going to get caught sooner or later, I suppose, and will get to see what happens. I left it till late afternoon, setting off at around four, after a morning and early afternoon matt white emulsioning stuff around the house, and with a two minute sit down in the garden first and a banana for energy for the cycle ride.
Like last time it was sometimes cloudy, which occasionally meant standing around waiting for the sun to pop back out. And as for those clouds getting in the way, they're never quite in the right place compositionally either, someone ought to invent something to fix that, like a small remote control, perhaps. Point, move, re-shape, that sort of thing, how hard can it be?
I do my panoramic stitching in-camera now, through the flick of a switch, a tiny one. It might be the size of a credit card this camera (I arrived and checked my pockets in a panic wondering if I had actually remembered to bring it with me) but the processing power to churn out huge panoramic images is wildly amazing and easily exciting enough to make me smile out loud. Firing off multiple frames and stitching them in five seconds uses up more battery power but it's soooOOoooo remarkable - it would take me forever doing these in Hugin at home on a laptop.
As well as trying to draw the horizon as a straight line (like this one) it's a treat to try to bend the scene into a new form, re-working it into a super-sculpture. The camera can get annoyed with some of these bendy trajectories and pulls out with only half the frame intact, but more often than not it keeps going, chugging away furiously and comes up with a decent result. And I've noticed it's definitely getting better at working out what I'm trying to do and tries to do it. It's massively brainy. The 12-13 MB jpeg output is detailed, and at 254dpi works out at metre-wide prints; not that I am thinking of ever printing, and if I did it would be at 12" or 16" tops, and probably smaller than that, most likely, much smaller. After all, small, is still the new very big, as everyone knows, even if they aren't admitting it. Yet. And so that means really small is the extremely very big. It makes sense. To me.
It's still nice to know the detail is in there, even if it will be invisible.
Like last time it was sometimes cloudy, which occasionally meant standing around waiting for the sun to pop back out. And as for those clouds getting in the way, they're never quite in the right place compositionally either, someone ought to invent something to fix that, like a small remote control, perhaps. Point, move, re-shape, that sort of thing, how hard can it be?
I do my panoramic stitching in-camera now, through the flick of a switch, a tiny one. It might be the size of a credit card this camera (I arrived and checked my pockets in a panic wondering if I had actually remembered to bring it with me) but the processing power to churn out huge panoramic images is wildly amazing and easily exciting enough to make me smile out loud. Firing off multiple frames and stitching them in five seconds uses up more battery power but it's soooOOoooo remarkable - it would take me forever doing these in Hugin at home on a laptop.
As well as trying to draw the horizon as a straight line (like this one) it's a treat to try to bend the scene into a new form, re-working it into a super-sculpture. The camera can get annoyed with some of these bendy trajectories and pulls out with only half the frame intact, but more often than not it keeps going, chugging away furiously and comes up with a decent result. And I've noticed it's definitely getting better at working out what I'm trying to do and tries to do it. It's massively brainy. The 12-13 MB jpeg output is detailed, and at 254dpi works out at metre-wide prints; not that I am thinking of ever printing, and if I did it would be at 12" or 16" tops, and probably smaller than that, most likely, much smaller. After all, small, is still the new very big, as everyone knows, even if they aren't admitting it. Yet. And so that means really small is the extremely very big. It makes sense. To me.
It's still nice to know the detail is in there, even if it will be invisible.