A Great Photographer Takes a Great Photo

Some more good comes from a bunch of bad.

Back in October 2008, I embarked on one of Flying M Air‘s Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventures. But rather than paying passengers along for the six-day/five-night trip, I had a video team and a writer from Arizona Highways magazine. The trip itself went great. Good weather, great flying conditions, most accommodations right in line with my usual offerings.

It wasn’t until months afterwards that I realized what a mistake I’d made.

The video company, which I’d contracted to produce three television quality documentaries with footage taken, in part, during the trip, was in way over its head. A visit to the video editing guy’s “state of the art studio” — a partially refinished garage right off his kitchen — was the wake-up call. He’d never bothered to catalog any of the hours of video he and his companion had shot on my dime, using equipment I’d probably purchased with my prepayment. He was attempting to create a “trailer” video with footage shot solely with the POV camera that had been attached, at an off angle, to my helicopter’s nose. His “audio recording facility” picked up the noise from his fan-cooled computers and barking dogs. He didn’t understand the concept of matching music changes to scene changes. In other words, he had no clue.

I won’t go into more details than that. My lawyers are dealing with it. Let’s just say I got ripped off badly and have nothing to show for it but a hard disk full of mediocre video in about a dozen different formats, none of which is organized or cataloged to make scenes easy to find.

But often it takes a bunch of crap (think fertilizer) to make something good grow (think flowers). And the good thing that came from the outrageous expense of the trip was the article written by Keridwen Cornelius, the Arizona Highways writer who came along and sat taking notes for most of the trip.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

Before the article came out in the May 2009 issue of Arizona Highways, I was contacted by Jeff Kida, Photography Editor at Arizona Highways. I was familiar with Jeff’s work from the magazine. If you’ve never seen Arizona Highways, you should pick up a copy. It is, by far, the most impressive look at Arizona that you’re likely to see. The photography is beautiful, beyond description, and each issue of the magazine provides an in-depth look at the state that simply isn’t available elsewhere. Landscape photographers — amateur or professional — should use it as a standard to achieve in their own work.

Jeff said they needed a portrait of me and my helicopter for the article. We tossed around some ideas. I mentioned that near sunset, the late afternoon light often made the Weaver Mountains north of Wickenburg turn copper colored. I suggested that we put my helicopter out on the ramp at Wickenburg Municipal Airport with those mountains as a backdrop and stick me in front of it. He seemed to like the idea and made a date to do the shoot.

Jeff arrived early that day. So early that I figured I’d take him up for a aerial shoot of Wickenburg. I still had hopes about at least one of my videos and my husband, Mike, would shoot some HD footage with our Sony Handycam to use as B-roll. I pulled another door off in back for Jeff. We flew around town. He seemed to enjoy the flight, but he didn’t take many photos. It wasn’t until later that I realized he was an on-the-ground kind of photographer who liked to get up-close-and-personal with his subject matter. Aerial photography — especially in less than perfect conditions — didn’t interest him much.

We went back to the airport and I landed on the spot I’d envisioned. We put the doors back on. I went into the restroom to fix my hair a bit. I’d already put on makeup and a Flying M Air shirt. The sun crept lower into the horizon. The light started getting good.

The airport was deserted, which is (1) nothing unusual and (2) a good thing. Jeff had me stand at least 50 feet in front of the helicopter while he set up his tripod at least 50 feet from me. He used a long lens to frame me and the helicopter.

This is the difference between a photographer who knows what he’s doing and one who doesn’t. Sure, I could have stood closer to the helicopter and Jeff could have stood right in front of me. But instead, he’d decided to take advantage of the distance-compressing capabilities of a telephoto lens. By lining up his two subjects (me and the helicopter) in front of a distant background (the mountains 10 miles away) and framing us in a telephoto lens, he made everything appear much closer together. At the same time, he was able to sharply focus on me and leave the helicopter and mountains in a much softer focus.

Maria LangerThe result, as you can see here, is likely the best portrait of me that I’ll ever see.

What I like about this photo — other than the simple fact that I look happy and alive and even a wee bit attractive in it — is that it tells a story about me. I’m the subject, the helicopter is the topic, and the desert mountains in the distance is the setting. It can be rewritten as a sentence: “Maria is a helicopter pilot who flies in the desert mountains.” And I think that’s what a good portrait should be. More than just a picture of a face. A description of that person.

Arizona HighwaysAnyway, I didn’t see the photo until the May 2009 issue of the magazine came out. I was thrilled with it. I wrote to Jeff to ask if I could have a copy to use elsewhere. I also asked a few other questions. He answered the other questions, but didn’t send the photo. I thought perhaps the magazine had said no, so I let it go.

The article did great things for my business. I sold more excursions last year than I had in all the years I’d been offering it. While I didn’t net enough to cover the cost of my huge mistake with the videographers, it was great to get out there and share the trip with other folks.

This month I started a new project and really needed a good “author photo” to go with it. I remembered the photo from the Arizona Highways article. I contacted Jeff again. He apologized, saying he’d meant to send it to me the last time I’d asked but had forgotten. And he sent a high resolution image with permission to use it anywhere I wanted to.

I’m thrilled.

So now I have a good portrait that I can use on my blog (you’ll find it formatted as you see here on my Bio page) and on Flying M Air’s Owner/Chief Pilot Background page. And I’m sure you’ll see it elsewhere, too.

So that’s two good things that came from the ill-fated trip: the great article by Keridwen Cornelius in Arizona Highways‘ May 2009 issue and the great photo taken by Jeff Kida for that article. Thanks again, both of you!

Glass Replacement FAIL in Wickenburg

How does anyone get anything done in this town?

The old guy Mike called to give us an estimate for replacing two windows refused to take driving directions to our house. Instead, I had to drop everything and go out to meet him.

He wasn’t at the corner where he was supposed to be. Instead, he’d driven his unmarked truck past me and was waiting two blocks from our home. He used his cell phone to call me. I tracked him down and he followed me to my house.

Upstairs Windows

The window on the right is the one that needs replacing.

The windows are upstairs. He followed me up the stairs. I pointed out the 4 foot by 8 foot double-pane glass panel that needed replacement. The seal between the two panes had failed and moisture had slipped in. Each day, the window would fog up in a way that couldn’t be wiped clean. Since the window is one of two that offer the best view in the house, we wanted it fixed quickly.

He walked up to the window and looked at the garage roof outside. “How do I get out there?” he asked.

“On a ladder,” I replied.

“We can’t do that. The glass is big and heavy.”

“You did it twelve years ago when we first bought the house,” I told him. I pointed at the identical panel of glass beside it. “You replaced that one right after we moved in.”

“How did we get up there?” he asked.

“On a ladder.”

Bathroom Window

The bathroom window is broken.

I took him into the upstairs bathroom to see the other window that needed replacing. This was a small two-part window of white-smoked glass. One panel slid back and forth to open or close the window. The other panel remained stationery. The stationery panel had always had a bad seal that let moisture in, but we never bothered to replace it since you couldn’t see through it anyway. But during a recent storm, that panel’s outside pane had broken. We wanted it replaced.

He pulled off the panel that slid back and forth and set it down beside the toilet. He reached around, pushing the screen out a bit and mumbling about how he hoped nothing fell.

“How do you get up to this window?” he asked.

“On a ladder,” I replied yet again.

“What size ladder?”

“My husband uses an extension ladder. We have one you can use.”

He put the other panel back in place. “I don’t know why anyone would build a house like this,” he muttered as he led the way out of the bathroom.

My patience was stretching thin. “People don’t usually design houses just to make it convenient to replace windows,” I told him.

He went downstairs, outside, and around the side of the house. I followed. He looked up at the bathroom window, which had to be at least 20 feet off the ground. Then he looked at the comparatively short climb to the garage roof.

“Once you get up there,” I told him, you can walk on the garage roof pretty easily.

He looked at the situation for another moment, then suddenly said, “I can’t help you, lady.”

I don’t know if he was expecting me to argue or beg with him, but if he was, he was disappointed.

“Okay, thanks for your time,” I said quickly. “You can find your way out? Be careful backing up.”

And then I went into the house, leaving him find his way back to wherever it is he’d come from.

Of course, since the old guy is the only glass replacement option in Wickenburg — or at least the only one my husband could find — we’ll have to get someone up from Phoenix to do the job. But that’s typical here. No matter how much you try to spend money locally, you just can’t get what you need.

Health Care: How the U.S. Stacks Up

Very disturbing info from National Geographic.

A Twitter friend of mine, @BWJones, tweeted a link to a graphic that clearly showed three disturbing things when comparing the U.S. to other developed nations:

  • People in the U.S. spend far more for health care than any other nation.
  • People in the U.S. visit doctors fewer times than many other nations.
  • People in the U.S. have a lower than average life expectancy.

As summarized in “The Cost of Care“:

The United States spends more on medical care per person than any country, yet life expectancy is shorter than in most other developed nations and many developing ones. Lack of health insurance is a factor in life span and contributes to an estimated 45,000 deaths a year.

What does that say about America?

Click here to read the article and see the graphic.

What’s New Here is Something Old

I finally get around to adding the rest of my original blog content to this blog.

I started blogging back in October 2003. Back then, I used a blogging software program called iBlog that created blog pages in plain old HTML. It worked okay but I soon outgrew it and switched to WordPress.

The trouble is, I used iBlog for more than two years, accumulating hundreds of posts. Although I was able to export those posts to XML, getting them properly formatted with their images and importing them into WordPress was extremely tedious and time-consuming. I worked on it periodically for months. And then I gave up.

This week, I’m prepping for a new book based on a collection of my blog posts. I realized that the best way to make sure I didn’t miss any of them was to get them all online on An Eclectic Mind. So I sat down and completed the tedious chore of importing the last bunch of posts, all of which have lots of photos and date from January 2004 to June 2005.

Here’s a list of what I added:

  • On Close Calls
    Why a control tower clearance is something to be taken with a grain of salt. October 9, 2004
  • Through the Magic of Photoshop…
    I get a photographic image of a helicopter that hasn’t been built yet. November 7, 2004
  • A Trip to California
    I take a trip to California with my family to see Zero-Mike-Lima. November 24, 2004
  • People are Pigs
    A tenant moves out and I am amazed by the way some people live. December 2, 2004
  • A Trip to Quartzsite
    I have a nice flight to Quartzsite and back with some pilot friends. January 17, 2005
  • Air-to-Air
    An air-to-air photo shoot gives mixed results. January 24, 2005
  • Exploring the Desert by Helicopter
    We wander through a mill site, fly over an open pit mine, get a hamburger in the middle of nowhere, and see the “land now” light four miles short of home. February 5, 2005
  • A Trip to Phantom Ranch
    We take a mule ride to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, spend two nights, and return to civilization. March 5, 2005
  • My Trip to Georgetown
    I take Zero-Mike-Lima on a long cross country trip to take care of business and visit some friends. May 8, 2005
  • Red Mountain
    We “walk inside a mountain” near Flagstaff. June 1, 2005
  • Could it be? A building at our place on Howard Mesa?
    Our soon-to-be cabin was finally delivered to Howard Mesa. June 5, 2005

Flashback: October 14, 1998

The day I started learning to fly helicopters.

Jeppeson Log BookAt the end of 2008, I finished — that is, completely filled — my first Jeppeson Professional Pilot Logbook. The book documents the first eleven calendar years of my pilot experience.

I bought the book on the day of my first flight lesson. My instructor, Paul, said that the flight school sold two of them. He recommended the big, Jeppeson book. It was more expensive than the smaller alternative, but it was also more impressive. As he wrote the entry for my very first flight, I wondered how long it would take to fill the whole book.

Eleven years. 2033 hours of flight time. (It’s a big book.)

The first entry was for October 14, 1998:

Aircraft Make and Model: R22
Aircraft Ident: 4030C
From/To: CHD-L07-CHD
Total Duration of Flight: 0.9
Rotorcraft Helicopter: 0.9
Landings: Day: 2
Dual Received: 0.9

Paul’s signature and CFI certificate number appear in the Remarks and Endorsements column, along with the cryptic codes A-F, K. I consulted the “cheat sheet” that the flight school used to code entries and discovered that we’d practiced the following:

A: Hovering, hovering turns
B: Lift Off / Set Down
C: Normal Take Off
D: Normal Approach
E: Maximum Performance Take Off
F: Steep Approach
K: Straight In Autorotations

I don’t remember very much about that first flight — after all, it happened more than twelve years ago — but I do remember a few things.

The preflight seemed to take forever. We used a two-sided checklist and Paul ran me through every single item. He’d help me preflight for the first three or four lessons. Then it was up to me to do it on my own. I think I surprised him a few times when I found potential problems in an aircraft that was still warm from the previous flight.

Paul handled all radio communications. During that first lesson, I had no idea what he was saying. I distinctly recall wondering who Juliet was and why he mentioned her when talking to the tower that first time.

Paul lifted off from the school’s helipad, climbed out, and got us in level flight before turning over any of the controls. When he did, he turned them over one-by-one. The sensitivity of the cyclic amazed me — it didn’t take much to get the helicopter moving in a direction I didn’t want to go.

Paul brought us in to the practice area at Memorial Field, southwest of Chandler Municipal. Memorial was on land owned by the Gila River Indian Community. It had two runways (03/21 and 12/30), neither of which were in good condition. But they were fine for helicopter practice and only a 8-minute flight from Chandler. Few other people used the airport and we’d normally have it to ourselves or share it with another helicopter student pilot. Not long ago, the Indians closed the airport to helicopter use. I don’t know where the new students at Chandler practice now.

We practiced hovering. Or, more accurately, he showed me how to hover and I tried to do it. It seemed impossible. I remember Paul telling me that it normally took students 5 to 10 hours of practice time to be able to hover. It wouldn’t be until our eighth flight, a month later, that I finally got the knack with about 7.5 hours under my belt.

He demonstrated an autorotation. I felt my stomach do a somersault. The whole thing happened very fast. At the bottom, he brought back the power, pulled pitch, and left us hovering right where he’d said we’d be.

Afterwards, back at the flight school, we talked about what we’d done. I was still optimistic, even about hovering. I was excited, even though I had no real idea of what I was doing.

Over the next few lessons, I’d develop and then get over motion sickness while trying to hover. I’d ask Paul what percentage of students actually got their pilot certificates and be told that fewer than half finished. My optimism about hovering would turn to pessimism. And then, when I could suddenly hover, I knew I’d be able to finish.

But averaging just two hours of dual time a week, I knew I was not on the fast track.