Tag Archives: death

This weekend I attended a lighting workshop with Canon speedliter Syl Arena.  Actually it was much more a seminar than a workshop in that I took exactly zero pictures.  But it was great for reinforcing some of the stuff that I’d picked up about lighting over the past couple of years.  My kit doesnt come close to scratching the surface of what Syl carries in his gearbag.  Probably never will.   But that didn’t stop me from coming home and trying to rig up some relatively elaborate (with my normal lighting scheme as the baseline) setup to get a shot that I had been thinking about since seeing reading Joe McNally’s book The Hot Shoe Diaries.  Both Syl and McNally are lighting savants, and if I ever thought either would come within 100 mouseclicks of my blog, I wouldn’t dare attach his name to this attempt in any way.  The image didn’t live up to the lofty goals I had for it when it was just in my head.  But this is what you get when you have two speedlites with no wireless trigger and have to bounce a pre-flash signal around a corner and down a hallway with the help of reflectors, mirrors, and foamcore.   I definitely had it coming.

  • You captured me at “reflectors, mirrors and foamcore.” The dramatic lighting works for me. I’m still debating with myself who is after who. Sleeping with the lights on tonight for sure.

    BTW, thanks for coming to the Speedliter’s Intensive.

    I’ve always wanted to be called a “savant”… without the obligatory “idiot” in front of it. Thx for that too.

  • Harsh Patel

    Very nice! Now you have to post the setup shot for your signal bounce … reflectors, mirrors and foamcore? That’s commitment. 😉

  • Caren

    Should NOT have read this before going to bed. Please don’t have nightmares, please don’t have nightmares, please don’t … !!!

February 19. Today seemed to have a bit of everything. A very close friend, whose family has already suffered terribly, said goodbye to his brother. My heart goes out to him and his mother. I cannot imagine what they are going through right now.  Three blocks down from the service, at 301 Lyndhurst Street, was the house that my mother grew up in…where I got to know my grandparents. They passed a few years ago, but I went by the house just to show Serene, take a look, and because with their graves in South Carolina, it was a bit of a way to visit them.  The house is in horrible shape. I couldn’t help thinking that my grandparents would never approve of its condition. The backyard, where my grandfather used to grow award-winning vegetables, was a mess, even under the cover of two feet of snow.  One of the things that I remember hating about that house was that it overlooked a massive cemetery. As a child I feared catching even an unintentional glimpse of it.  It was scary.  But yesterday, for some reason…maybe it was the blue skies and bright sunshine…or maybe because it seemed to be aligned with the other events of the day…I was comforted by the sight of that cemetery. Or maybe it was because it was the one thing that seemed unchanged after 15 years.


I also had a chance to visit my alma mater, Gilman School. My parents’ choice to send me to Gilman for grades 7-12 is still one of the most influential things they ever did for me. As I signed in at the front desk, I asked whether or not Mr. Holley’s (pictured below) office was in the building. No. But after taking 3 steps into the Common Room, I glanced to my right to see him talking with some alums. Mr. Holley was my Af-Am Lit teacher and my baseball coach and a fantastic role model for ALL the boys in the Upper School. I also got a chance to say hello to Mr. Schmick, the new Headmaster, who seemed perplexed by the fact that I had actually grown, Mr. Foreman, my very first teacher at Gilman in 7th grade science class, and Donell Thompson, from the class of ’91, now a teacher in the middle school. Even teachers whose classes I had never taken stopped to greet me in the hallways. Gilman is a such special place because of teachers, coaches, and mentors like them, and it felt so much like being at home.