Most of my youth was spent in a little hamlet nestled among towering evergreen trees.  Summer time was spent finding as much trouble as possible, riding our bicycles through trails or salvaging scrap wood and rusty nails to construct fortress-like shrines to the almighty tetanus vaccination among the tree branches.  We were generally carefree kids, yet even the youngest among us knew to keep an eye and an ear on the forest for predators, occasionally halting a game of hide and go seek with someone yelling out "BEAR!" We'd emerge from our hiding places and gather together silently to listen for the breaking of branches, straining our eyes towards the thick underbrush in order to verify if the danger was real or imagined. 

In the daytime, with every kid in town behind you for courage, it was easy to defiantly rush towards the edge of the forest, yelling and chasing off potential predators, earning the respect and admiration of your peers in the process.  More often than not, the alleged bear would turn out to be a shadow among the leaves, but occasionally a grazing deer would lazily glance up at us, chewing it's grass and wondering what we were carrying on about. Once darkness fell though, it was less easy to find the courage to stare down a hungry animal as one by one the kids drifted home to bed until you were alone.

Little Tree in a Big World

My house was situated on a hill at the edge of town, tucked neatly into a corner and surrounded by forest capable of harbouring hungry bears, cougars and wolves. We knew this to be fact, not only from the signs left by the bears on our trails through the woods,  but the rumours that spread like wildfire whenever an emboldened cougar or wolf stole into town in the middle of the night searching for an easy snack in the form of pet dogs and little girls who didn't listen to their mothers.  As night settled in, I'd set off towards the sound of my Mom's increasingly frustrated voice calling my name to come home. Walking briskly from the other end of town along the edge of the forest, but not too briskly because everyone knows, when a predator stalks you, the last thing you should do is run. Ahead, a lone streetlight cast a meagre puddle of yellow light on the gravel road, the last semblance of safety before beginning the impossibly long ascent up our driveway and into the darkness. With every quick step I took, the light from the streetlamp faded and the urge to run from the creatures lurking beyond sight intensified. I restrained myself, trying my best to ignore the potential threat mere feet away among the towering evergreen trees. Was that a growl I just heard?  I forced myself to walk at a regular pace until the pressure built and I could no longer stand it. I sprinted the last fifty metres to the house with a stampede of teeth and claws hot on my heels. The porch light clicked on as I whizzed past, illuminating a shortcut between the garage and the house as I swung around the corner, ripped open the door and threw myself inside the house amazed I was still in one piece. 

For years, it was a nightly routine.

I can't say with confidence that I've grown out of it.

The games of hide and go seek long over, these days the lure of the camera entices me out of the city with it's millions of streetlights casting safety nets into the night, and back towards the dark forest and the creatures it hides.  Because along with the creatures and the potential for danger, the wilderness holds within it a magical light that neither myself nor my camera can resist.  That's why I found myself packing up a bag full of gear one Friday afternoon, and stepping onto the trail towards the setting sun despite the 10 year old version of me inside begging "Don't go". As dinnertime approached, the number of hikers I met dwindled until finally I was alone among the evergreen trees, placing one foot in front of the other at a snails pace lest I require the energy to fend off a bear later. (You know, in case the two bottles of bear spray I had weren't good enough)

I reached the top of the Big Beehive above Lake Agnes an hour earlier than I had anticipated, and surveyed the area for potential compositions to remember when the sun began to set.  I opened my backpack and took out a bag of beef jerky, breaking the seal and immediately cursing myself for packing something that smelled so strong.  Surely every Grizzly Bear within 100 kilometres would now be on it's way to find out where the delicious aroma was coming from. I hurriedly finished my dinner and sealed the garbage in it's bag as tightly as I could, and then the waiting began.  

I waited for the sun to set, busying myself with changing into warm dry clothes before I got too cold, then with setting up the tripod for long exposures time and again. Once the sun had set and the light began to fade, I waited for darkness to arrive and bring the stars with it. And waited. I had the camera set up and ready to fire when the time was right but the summer solstice was only a few days away and the faint glow of the sun was taking it's sweet time leaving the sky.  

I strained to hear through the silence for any sign of life near by. Occasionally I'd think of something to say that might deter any large hungry, mammals from venturing too close, wondering if loudly reciting a recipe for wild game stew would make the situation better or worse. I made pleasant small talk with a nearby bird, remarking on what a nice night it was.  I nervously fidgeted, sitting down, then standing, then pacing and finally sitting again.  Still, the light in the distant sky did not fully dissipate until well after midnight, by then, I'd been perched on the rock high above Lake Agnes for nearly six hours. More than enough time for a hungry bear to make the trek to find me.

I focused intently on the camera, a tactic that had been working fairly well at keeping my imagination reigned in.  But as the sun set and the moon rose, and the shadows in the trees became longer my imagination began wander.  Soon the shadows grew wider and they began to grow legs and snouts and ears, it wouldn't be long before the shadows began to move, and think, and prey on women who smelled distinctly of warm beer and Teriyaki flavoured beef jerky.

Rising Moon vs Setting Sun

A rustling of leaves in the underbrush and then a pair of eyes glowing in the light of my headlamp.  "HEY THERE" I said in my manliest, scariest voice. The animal froze in it's steps. I froze in mine.  The eyes staring at me were less than six feet away.  The animal, no bigger than my shoe, was merely a Pika. "Shoo!" I yelled and the Pika scurried off into the night.  I giggled nervously and returned to my camera. Just a Pika, no need to panic.

A rustling of leaves, again the Pika hopped in to the light of my headlamp and began stealing it's way toward my backpack, but I was prepared this time.  "Hey, you again, GET GET GET" and I stomped my way menacingly toward the Pika.  The Pika shit it's pants, ran away and disappeared behind some rocks. Feeling a bit guilty, but satisfied that the Pika would not be returning,  I turned to my camera.  Just then, the rustling was heard again. This time, it was directly underfoot and I looked down in time to see the leaves beside my boots moving.  I screamed, but it was not a girly, high pitched, cutesy little scream that you would expect from someone as girly and cute as me (super cute by the way, ask my parents). This scream was an involuntary sound. A scream that accidentally slipped from my face in a kind of low, moaning reserved specially for the occasion of my death as I had indeed, just died a little bit.  I jumped back. The new, more dangerous Pika jumped back the other way and left me alone again in the darkness. I'd officially had enough.

Pictured Below: the very cute but totally murderous Pika

I packed my camera into my bag and checked the time, nearly 2 am.  It was time to go anyway. I'd have enough time to hike down to the lake, make myself a bit of breakfast and a few dozen cups of coffee before the sun rose.  I picked my way down the trail, keeping a brisk pace, but not too brisk because everyone knows, if a predator stalks you, the last thing you should do is run.  Soon, the Lake Agnes Teahouse came into view and I restrained my urge to sprint towards it because I'm an adult now, and adults are not afraid of the dark. I settled in on the porch of the Teahouse with a cup of coffee brewed from the lake water, and waited for dawn.

If anyone asked, I would be able to say I'd planned the whole thing out this way and that I hadn't let a couple of curious little Pika's scare me off the mountain.

Fairy Tale in Lake Agnes

Dawn on Lake Agnes

Out of the entire box of 64 Crayola Crayons (with built in sharpener) Emerald Green was my all time favourite crayon. It's wax left a smooth, shiny green line with every mark I made. In fact, I had made so many marks with my Emerald Green Crayon that it's paper had been torn off time and again so that the only words visible were "rald Green."  It was the best crayon. Even better than "Sky Blue" and definitely better than "Flesh" in my humble opinion.

Slowly throughout my very first year in big girl school 63 out of the 64 Crayola Crayons I had to my name had been shared with my fellow 1st graders, never to be seen again.  But that's okay, because I still had the Emerald Green crayon and it was the best one, and even though we had been told it was polite to share, I kept the Emerald Green crayon all to myself. 

Swept Away

One day we were given a new assignment, and sheets of paper with a little picture on it were handed out to every student.  We were to listen to the teacher and colour in the sheet with our crayons as she instructed. 

Easy. 

"The tree is to be coloured green"  the teacher said.  I smiled to myself, as I filled in the tree shaped lines with my Emerald Green crayon.
"The teddy bear is to be coloured brown."  I knew damn well what the colour brown was, it was the marker that smelled like cinnamon, but the teacher clearly instructed we use crayons. Seeing no other option available, I coloured the teddy bear with my Emerald Green crayon.
"The sun is to be coloured yellow"  I frowned, this was not going well, as I coloured the sun with my Emerald Green crayon.
"The sky is to be coloured blue"  and the rest of the page was coloured as neatly as I could with my Emerald Green crayon, making sure I mostly stayed within the lines.

I clutched my Emerald Green crayon in my hand so as not to lose it to another wily 6 year old and handed in my paper to the teacher.  She did not look impressed, and I, being a studious little overachiever even at the ripe old age of 6, was not impressed either. I had been made out to look like a person who didn't know her colours yet and I totally knew at least 64 colours. 

I have hated sharing ever since.

So when the weather forecast called for 30 apocalyptic centimetres of snow in the mountains last weekend, I took that as my cue to head to the perpetually popular Lake Louise and hike up to the Lake Agnes Tea House, thinking the weather would keep the crowds at bay.  A soggy trail is better than a crowded one, and a soggy photographer is at least marginally less grumpy than an interrupted one.  Knowing that the weather would be crummy and the sunrise non-existent, I decided to leisurely make my way to the mountains, starting with a late alarm clock at 2:30 am.  After losing and finding my umbrella twice between the house and the garage and  then opting to ditch a camera body to balance out the extra layers and coffee pot I'd packed - I finally hit the road. I gently reminded myself that the experience is more important than the resulting photos as rain pelted the wind shield, combated by the constant woosh woosh of the wipers as I headed into the mountains.

Just after coffee number three, and shortly before sunrise, I arrived in Banff.   Although my assumption that the sunrise would be lacking was shaping up to be correct, I didn't want to miss out on a perfectly good photo opportunity should it arise. I detoured slightly and positioned my camera at the ready on the shore of Two Jack Lake in case something interesting happened.  

Nothing interesting happened. 

The world was drenched in a dull grey wash, but I still took a few shots of some clouds lazing around in the tree tops for good measure before continuing my journey.

In a completely unrelated and wildly off topic note, I'd like to take this moment to point out that the outhouse at the corner of Lake Louise Drive and Moraine Lake Road is THE BEST place to stop for a pee. It smells of a delightful cedar forest and never fails to justify drinking a fourth cup of coffee between Banff and Lake Louise. If you're ever in the area on a cool summer's morning, pee there.

Five Stars! Would recommend.

Moving on.

I arrived in Lake Louise, and as I had hoped, found myself in an empty parking lot.  I celebrated with a wonderful 30 minute power nap before heading towards the trail.  I met a grand total of four other people on my way up towards Lake Agnes and I started to question my level of preparedness. One lady who had passed me going up the trail was wearing flip flops, shorts, a light jacket and a garbage bag to ineffectively fend off the rain. In comparison, I had packed a small stove and coffee pot, assorted beverages and tea bags, pickle and cheese sandwiches, my winter coat, extra socks, mittens and toque, an umbrella and various camera gear. Not to mention the boots, wool socks and multiple layers I was wearing.  I stopped at Mirror Lake to take a few photos, the flip flop lady went by again, this time on her way home. She mentioned the tea house was closed. I could have told her that. She was very wet. She didn't look very happy. I stopped questioning my level of preparedness, and comfortably (okay, probably a bit smugly too) hopped along the lake shore.

Arriving at the Tea House I was not surprised to see... well... very little.  The mountains were obscured by the heavy precipitation, turning the valley into a calm, nearly monochromatic picture. I treated  myself to a pickle and cheese sandwich and a hot cup of English Breakfast tea, courtesy of my over prepared backpack.  As I sat eating my sandwich and sipping my tea, the rain which had been steadily falling all morning quickly changed to snow. I'd been considering hiking over the beehive but seeing the back end of the lake still covered in snow and having absolutely zero avalanche training, I opted to hike back the same way I'd come. After taking a few pictures of course.

I gingerly stepped my way over some boulders and set up my camera, balancing precariously on the rocks and holding an umbrella with my chin to feebly hold some of the moisture off of the lens. In the distance, I could hear giggling and strained to see a pair of hikers silhouetted against the snow.  They picked their way down a set of switchbacks on the other side of the lake.  I studied the steep, snowy terrain they were about to cross and eagerly waited for the composition to unfold.  I selfishly thought about switching lenses and then wondered, more importantly, if they should maybe head back the way they came. 

Just then, the thundering crack of an avalanche echoed in the valley followed by the rumbling crash of snow and boulders.  The hikers froze. I looked around nervously.  The visibility was next to nothing further down the lake and I strained to see where the avalanche had occurred, hoping the hikers would not be affected. The crashing subsided and the pair continued making their way around the lake, a little more sombrely than moments before. They paused briefly to snap photos of each other.  I snapped photos of them too, though the combination of falling snow and shutter speed rendered the photos nearly useless from the splotches of snow. I returned a lens to my bag and noticed the bag appeared to be gaining some weight.

Despite already relieving my backpack of a few sandwiches and a victory beer, the snow and rain had completely saturated it's outer layers making it even heavier than before.  Aside from the additional weight of the excess water I would now have to carry I wondered how the camera gear would fare on the way back.  I wrapped the cameras and lenses in some cloth to protect them as best as I could and started making my way home, stopping momentarily to photograph the falls flowing out of the lake. More people trickled up the trail as I was on my way down.  A cute little dog in a snazzy little rain coat preceded more people clad in garbage bags and we joked about how well the dog was dressed compared to it's people. But I quickly grew weary of passing on my smiles and "hello's" and the "nice day if it don't rain's" to the increasingly steady flow of hikers and turned onto the horse trail to finish the hike with only the steady plodding of my boots and beating of my heart for distractions.

Swept up

Once back in the parking lot, I checked the clock and determined I'd have just enough time to scoot into Silverton Falls, a spot I'd only ever visited before with Creepy-dog in tow.  My surprisingly strong 25 pound dog has a habit of anxiously tugging on the leash and helping me produce less than stellar photos in the process and though I love her company, she is not as patient as I am when it comes to photography. I was looking forward to a more relaxed visit.   In stark contrast to the last location, I had the place to myself, normal for this set of falls but still surprising considering the proximity to the highway. The sun started to peek out of the clouds, illuminating the emerald green forest around me.  It was nice to not have to share and I smiled to myself as I clicked the shutter.

Saturday night marked another installment of the annual Hang the DJ Retro Prom at Dickens Pub.  A night of merriment, 80's tunes and some seriously impressive feats of hairspray. I was asked to help create some memorable awkward prom photos as well as a few not so awkward photos because now that we're all grown up, dancing with your date isn't nearly as icky as it used to be.

I'm often reminded by Mr. Bastard that my head is abnormally small compared to most adults,  the large shoulder pads sewn into the stylish canary yellow ladies blazer I'd chosen as my costume really helped to accentuate that. I'm not sure if that's really the best feature to show off but I'll work with it. At any rate, I had a blast giggling behind the camera all night and I may have inadvertently sold someone a house with my sweet 80's young urban professional attire.  

I wrapped up the photo booth around 2 am and with rapidly drooping eyes, headed homeward.  It was cool out, but my stylish canary yellow ladies blazer helped keep the chill off. I turned on to my street and looked up to see the northern lights dancing in the sky.  I like to think that it was the 80's tunes that brought them out, I couldn't help but tap my feet and bob my tiny little head with the songs of Corey Hart still ringing in my ears. I pulled over to the side of the road and contemplated for a moment, with all the camera gear loaded in the truck already it would be a shame not to at least try to capture a few shots of the lights dancing over the city.  I was exhausted and no more than 200 feet away from my bed at that point, but the call of the camera convinced me to turn the truck around and drive back down town.

I have been known to wear inappropriate clothing when shooting landscape photos in the past. I'm usually too hot, too cold or standing knee deep in a lake when my boots only go up to my ankles.  That part is not new. What is new, is freezing my ass off in a bright blue mini dress and a stylish canary yellow ladies blazer at 3 am while standing in a typical photographer stance desperately hoping that the cars and pedestrians slowly going by don't recognize me.  

 
"Hey Llisa, we were just talking about you! We wondered if you were out taking pictures tonight"  I heard as the faces slowly emerged under the street lamps.  It was my friend Rob of Copsickle fame and his Missus, on their way home from a show.  I had been taking photos of the faint aurora looking south to the skyline, but had recently given up in favour of a selfie.  I hoped they hadn't noticed me trying to do a long exposure of jazz hands on the steep grassy slope while wearing footwear more suited to places like a pub or in a box in the back of a closet.  

Actually, I'll level with you - it was three selfies, the first two didn't turn out. My jazz hands were too jazzy. 

Fortunately,  Rob and Megan had been riding their bicycles north and were treated to a good enough show in the sky that they didn't mention any of the slipping and jazz handing I'd been doing. That would have been embarrassing. However, their excitement over the aurora in the sky confirmed my suspicions that I would have to move to my second favourite skyline picturing location on the other side of the city thus prolonging my bedtime for at least a little while longer.

Will and Lisa are one of those couples with such a harmonious blend of personalities and that have been together for so long you can't imagine one without the other. So I was quite surprised when they asked me to photograph their Doctor Who themed wedding, I'd always assumed they would have gotten married years ago.  Who knows, maybe the young couple has been married over and over again since 1963. (That was probably a poorly written joke about Doctor Who.  I admit I know almost nothing about the show)  Here's a selection of some of my favourites photos from their wedding.

The First Dance

I had to google Doctor Who before the big day to learn a bit about it and get an idea for some of the more stylized wedding photos. Orange gels on my flashes allowed me to get a more otherworldly feel.

The wonderful little details  

Congratulations Will and Lisa, I know you'll have many many more happy years together!

Eventually there comes a point when there’s only so much a person can ignore, that point came for me one afternoon when I forgot what a broom was (A cleany cleany floor thing Llisa? You mean a broom?). It wasn't the first time either, I'd been forgetting the names of close friends and family and drifting off in the middle of stories leaving friends staring at me wondering if I'd ever finish my sentence. Okay, there might possibly be something wrong. Maybe.

 For years I had a continuously growing host of bizarre symptoms that I would find ways to rationalize, or assume I was being a drama queen and they were all in my head. The fatigue I chalked up to a busy life style despite sleeping for up to 13 hours a day, and rarely less than 10.  When my arms, legs and face started going numb and tingling from time to time, I brushed off the notion that I might be having a stroke or heart attack.  Do I have a pulse? Yes. Can I breathe? Yes.  Okay - I'm sure it's fine - carry on. A severe bout of vertigo was combated with physio at least to the point where I could drive again and walk without running into walls most days.  Heart palpitations? Must be stress.  Body temperature of 94.5F?  Maybe I didn’t eat enough today.  Sore joints? Swollen, painful lymph nodes? I'm sure I'm just fighting off a cold. The headaches I brushed off at first, until they reached a tipping point of 10 to 30 icepick headaches per day, every day, for over a year.   I was beginning to realize that healthy people don't feel like this. It was time to admit that something was not right.  

Fast forward another year, several rounds of blood tests, MRI’s and visits to the fancy pants neurology department and I finally got an answer.  Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. It's nice to know it's not all in my head (and I have witnesses)

 The weekend I received a handful of pamphlets from my doctor, I went to a birthday party, a 10 km hike in the mountains,  woke up at 3 am for a sunrise photo session and then capped it all off with an afternoon at the climbing gym. Maybe just to prove that I can.  I had been incorrectly assuming that because I sleep like a rock (glorious, glorious sleep!), my exhaustion is imagined and I can push through without consequence.  "Well", I'd think "If I'm this tired and breathless after the first 10 feet of a hike, there's no way I can feel any worse after the next 10 km" and continue on, putting one foot in front of the other.  That I must be feeling wiped out on hikes because I’m out of shape and I should just work harder.   But the harder I worked to get in shape, the farther I'd fall behind. I'd feel breathless and tired after climbing a single flight of stairs or need a break after my morning shower. 

These days I have been tasked with learning how to slow down, so that I can start to feel better and eventually pick up the pace again.   It's not an easy thing for someone who doesn't like to sit still. Ever. Especially not while seeing my peers tackle mountain summits and beautiful locations I'd love to photograph, but for now I have to take it easy and photograph some less strenuous locations. I'm lucky to live in a place that affords me beautiful photographic opportunities without even having to leave the parking lot, so I'm hoping to remain busy as ever, I might just be a little bit slower at it for a while.

SurrealLake Minnewanka under a blanket of clouds

I had the chance to photograph Calgary post punk trio Ultrviolence at their gig a few weeks ago.  Originally I'd been asked to catch their live set, but as I set towards the door I grabbed a set of transmitters for my speedlight and stuffed them into my already overburdened gig bag.  I was glad I did.

The show was already running behind schedule by the time I showed up, the first band hadn't even taken to the stage yet.  The guys mentioned they needed a few posed shots on top of the gig photos and suggested a location in a corner of the room.  Not wanting to conduct a shoot in the middle of another band's set, I  ducked into the alley and found a more suitable location behind the venue. With the help of a nice voice activated light stand and a single speedlight we managed to shoot a few rushed frames in between the opener sets while the smell of decaying food wafted over us from a nearby dumpster. Not the most glamorous location, but functional.    

Here's a few shots from our impromptu back alley photo shoot and their set at Broken City that night.  

If you happen to be in Western Canada next month, they'll be touring their new album, check them out!
https://ultrviolence.com/

I believe a life that's too easy is probably also a life that's not very fun nor entertaining. If you've been a reader of this blog for any length of time, you may have noticed that my favourite time to write a post is after something goes horrifically wrong. In those moments of utter chaos, confusion and cameras I can only laugh at the absurdity of what I do for fun and then push forward, eager to make things work.

If I can't laugh at myself, then at the very least, I like to learn from my mistakes and ensure the next trip will be a little less eventful and a bit more productive.  Apparently I've been learning a lot recently, so that's why this post is probably not very fun, or entertaining, but I have taken some photos in the last little while that I would still like to share here.  I just have to admit to you that the trips I took in order to capture these were very pleasant and I arrived home again at the end of the day without incident.  

Moonlit Minnewanka

This Way

Ice Jam

Spring Fed

Anarchy

Hey, you made it through the whole post.  Thanks for looking! If you saw anything you like you can click the image to purchase a print!

I've been asked to shed a bit of light on my process for shooting live bands in those dingy, terribly lit bars I love so much.  I really enjoy shooting in these conditions because it's a challenge that forces me to think on my feet, adapt to constantly changing conditions and dodge fellow concert goers all while having a beer and listening to rad music.  

ISO 5000  
F 3.2
1/100

The Gear

Nikon D7000 w Nikkor 35mm 1.8 lens attached
Nikon D7200 w Tokina 11-16 2.8 lens attached
Nikkor 55-200mm 4-5.6
SB700 Speedlight (for emergencies only)

Because the lighting at a gig is so dynamic and unpredictable, a good knowledge of the exposure triangle is your best friend in low light, fast action settings.  I start with my aperture as wide as it will go, a shutter speed around 1/60 to 1/100 to freeze the action and ISO 1000 adjusting up to ISO 3200 or even 5000 if the situation requires.  Most often, stage lights will be brightest around the musician's face so I prefer to shoot in manual mode with spot metering on the subject's face to ensure the face has a decent exposure and let the rest of the chips fall where they may, often letting the legs or body fall into shadow. 

ISO 2000  
F1.8
1/100

Processing

In Photoshop or Lightroom I usually only do basic raw adjustments and leave the rest of the image alone. A typical adjustment will be to lower contrast, increase white, highlight, shadow levels and finally lower the black slider so the clothes don't look like they haven't been put through the wash a thousand times (you might notice most of the punks and metalheads I photograph tend to wear black)

 The White Balance is the biggest struggle in live music photography because of the hodge podge of coloured lights to contend with.  I like to leave a bit of colour cast to the images but I typically prefer that it doesn't overpower the image unless the colour wash is particularly even throughout the image.  The way I correct the white balance is to note the original colour temperatures, click the white balance eyedropper on a white or grey portion of the scene (whites of the eyes or teeth are often a good bet) and then adjust the colour temperature sliders slightly back towards their original locations. 

The Etiquette

It's important to realize that your presence can have an enormous impact on the way a band will perform on stage when you're sticking a camera in their face.  Your presence will also affect how the audience will behave often choosing to protect you and your gear rather than having fun. ​Having a photographer in the room, especially one front and centre changes the dynamic of the show, often band members will perform for the camera rather than their audience and the crowd is less likely to dance and mosh around enjoying the band and will instead hang back to ensure the photographer and their gear don't get mangled.  

I try to minimize my impact on both the band and audience as much as possible being mindful that it's the band's show and not a chance for the photographer to show off their sweet photography stance (My photography stance is awesome by the way, like an old school wrestler in a mini skirt, physically it looks like I can withstand a tornado without budging yet I still give the appearance of being highly unstable) With the increasing number of photographers jostling for position at local shows, often times I find myself putting the camera away altogether unless I've been specifically asked to shoot in order to minimize the number of photographers and increase the number of actual audience members. 

ISO 3200  
F 2.8 
1/80

If I need to get close to the stage for a shot I'll move in for the shot but once I have what I need I'll sneak away to the back of the room to allow the audience their space to enjoy the music.   The same goes for switching sides of the room, I try to use the back of the room as much as I can rather than walking through the front of the crowd.  Besides, the vantage point at the back of the room often allows for some fun crowd shots.

ISO 3200  
F 2.5
1/125

A good selection of wide and close shots of each band member as well as entire stage photos will be nice variety for the band to choose from.  It's easy enough to get a good selection of photos right off the start and then use the rest of the time  to find interesting ways to frame shots using audience members, pieces of gear, lighting etc...

ISO 3200  
F4 
1/125

 The biggest pet peeve I have while I'm playing with a band on stage besides spilling a shot of jagermeister all over my strings is having a photographer come up, jam a camera in my face and blind me with a flash.  It's probably because I'm a marginally okay bass player at best and prone to short term memory loss, but camera flash can be incredibly distracting.  If you can, keep the flash off your camera unless it's absolutely 100% necessary, even better - if possible ask the band if it's okay before their set.  Be mindful of the flash blinding both the band and audience members. If I have to use flash, I prefer to set it to a very low power setting to just give a little pop of light so it's not quite so noticeable by everyone in the room. 

Instead of using flash, often the lights in a venue are set to a certain rotation which, after a bit of observation, can predict when the "good light" will be available for certain shots.  Occasionally, you can even request the person behind the sound/light  board to help you out with a bit of extra white lights on stage which will be useful for easier white balance adjustments in post.

ISO 2500  
F 208 
1/25

Perhaps the most important tip for photographing a live music performance though, is to remember to put the camera down once in a while and enjoy the show.

Have any of your own tips for live music?  Post them in the comments! 
 

There are countless articles floating around on how to become a better landscape photographer. They range from composition tips and preferred gear to using wonderful tools for finding locations like my favourite TPE.  But one article I haven't come across yet, and one I think can be fairly integral to a successful landscape photo is how to sleep in your vehicle.

My Mom will probably hate this post.

Hi Mom, I've gone car camping many times and not only have I lived to blog about it, but I have never had any instances where I even thought I might not live to blog about it. It's not as scary as you think, trust me.

White
But first, a story:

A long time ago, Mr. Bastard and I (before I was Mrs. Bastard) spent 10 days sleeping in a tent together in some lovely locations across North America.  We walked away from that excursion having learned a few lessons like "Don't ever go camping with Llisa in a tent for 10 days" and "How to get over the weird guy in the next camp site watching you try to bathe and shave your legs using only a cooler and a rubbermaid lid so you can just get on with your day" or "Llisa is a high maintenance princess who turns into a super bitch if she goes too long without the comforts of home." The biggest lesson we learned was that if our relationship was going to last, we were going to have to buy an RV for any camping trips we do (we did, and we've been happily married for nearly six years now).  

 Having established that I'm a high maintenance princess, what are we talking about car sleeping for?  Well friends, sometimes hauling a 16 foot 4000 lb trailer with everything including the kitchen sink plus a few hidden bottles of vodka (for emergencies) just isn't practical for a simple overnight trip to the mountains, but that photo at sunrise requires a 5 hour drive and there's no bloody way you're waking up at 1 am. So without further adieu, here are some tips for mastering the art of car sleeping. 

Location Location Location!

There are a few things to consider when scouting around for a place to camp out for the night:

Is it legal?  Rest areas and Walmart parking lots are good places to have a snooze but not all parking lots are created equally.  Check around to make sure there isn't a sign prohibiting overnight camping. My inner punk says "Stick it to the man! maaaan!" but only during business hours, I have no time for anarchy when I'm trying to catch some zzzz's and the nice officer is knocking on the car window at 3 am.   Alternatively, campgrounds work if the season allows but then you may as well just bring a tent like a normal person and skip the rest of this post.

Where is the closest bathroom? Bears might shit in the woods but I am not a bear and you probably aren't either.

How heavy is the traffic? If I have a choice between sleeping on the side of the Trans Canada Highway or some secondary highway in the middle of nowhere, I'll probably choose the middle of nowhere option.  The sound of big rigs rushing by at 130 km/hr just doesn't lull me to sleep effectively.

Cell service, while not essential, is useful to have and I admit I've been known to give up bathroom proximity for the ability to message Mr. Bastard or post selfies to facebook at midnight.  

Distance to your intended location, the closer the better because there's nothing more satisfying than waking up and having a magical location to photograph while the coffee is brewing.

Ice Encrusted

Safety

Some common sense is required, if the area makes your spidey senses tingle, it might be better to either camp out elsewhere or visit your closest pharmacist for some special ointment.  

Have a look around to make sure your vehicle isn't parked in an area prone to avalanches or flash flooding.  Before you say "Llisa, avalanches I can sort of see, but flash flooding? Be serious" there are places in this province known to host the occasional camper who wakes up the next morning with their vehicle in a foot of water ie: Abraham Lake or that soggy place I happened to be at last week. 

Another thing to be wary of is vehicle visibility, especially when camping out on the side of the highway. Make sure your vehicle can be seen from far enough away to allow night time drivers the chance to give you space lest you want to wake up dead.

Finally, though it's tempting to leave the engine running all night long for warmth - it's probably better to refrain.  A few minutes here or there is fine but sleeping in an idling vehicle can put you at risk for carbon monoxide poisoning, especially in the winter when snow can build up around the exhaust pipe. 

Comfort

I will admit, I do have a few advantages when it comes to car sleepin' the first being the width of my truck.  Another advantage I have is my height which is, as I've been told (I still don't believe it for myself) a bit on the stumpy side.  Both of which lend well to folding myself into the back seat more comfortably than simply resting my forehead on the dashboard.

A trick I've learned is to pack a milk crate and pillow to put between the front and back seats to give yourself a little extra leg room by lying diagonally. If you're short on space, a backpack or even your water supply work equally well. 

It goes without saying that a good sleeping bag is paramount, but so is cracking a window. Waking up with condensation coating the inside of your vehicle not only leaves you feeling gross and clammy, but your camera gear will be in the planning stages of waging a revolution against you and your moisture laden ways. 

Privacy

I'm a fan of privacy and a cheap wind shield cover picked up from your local Dollar Store combined with a jacket or two hung from the windows work wonders for keeping prying eyes to a minimum when you're changing into your jammies.  Another bonus is the protection from sunlight if your trips involve afternoon naps as often as mine do.

Coffee

The most recent addition to my truck camping arsenal is a small backpacking stove and a pot which officially puts me into the most glamorous level of roughing it. Not only can I make a pot of coffee on the tailgate (I prefer instant coffee because it's easier to clean up afterwards. Also the whole instant thing really works for me, because I just can't wait a few extra minutes for coffee)  I can also cook soup or freeze dried meals for dinner. Just don't forget the can opener and the matches!

If there had been anyone near by last night, they would have heard a strange stream of consciousness emanating from the darkness. Wandering down the banks of the Kananaskis River, I needed something to shout to the world, my voice being the first line of defence against hungry bears waking from their slumber.  Unfortunately, that something was a phrase from the sitcom How I Met Your Mother that tends to pop into my head during inopportune moments such as this.  "boats! Boats! BOATS!" I shouted gingerly, half hoping a fellow photographer or hiker would appear out of the darkness to converse with in lieu of yelling this stupid phrase, the other half hoping I was the only person left on earth so nobody would hear me shout such absurdities to myself.

I was alone, joined only by the stars sparkling in the sky above and the river babbling quietly to itself, much like me. The soothing music of trickling water interrupted only by the occasional sound of snow and ice succumbing to the recent warm weather and calving into the water. I spotted a shallow area in the stream and splashed through the mere inches of water to a sizeable gravel island to begin setting up my shots. "boats! Boats! BOATS!" 

With two cameras each firing and a refreshing beer in hand, I busied myself with the gear trying my best to ignore the potential danger that lie beyond the scope of my headlamp in order to enjoy the moment.  A shuffle of the scarf on the ground protecting my older camera which was precariously balanced in the sand and rocks "boats! Boats! BOATS!" I took a turn to marvel at the sky above before moving over to the camera on the tripod to tweak the composition and settings "boats! Boats! BOATS!" 

The sky now enveloped in a glittery velvet robe and mountain peaks gleamed in the distance.  The world advancing in zen-like thirty second increments.  I crouched next to the tripod to frame the next shot and relished the cool water lapping over the toes of my boots.  Cool water that hadn't been there thirty seconds ago.

Uh oh.

"boats! Boats! BOATS!" 

Starry Night

I scanned around with my flash light, my island in the stream was significantly smaller than it had been a few moments ago.  Cameras were flung into the bag mid-exposure, tripod fastened in record time and my hiking poles were in hand along with a stronger flash light in under a minute as I stepped off my patch of dirt towards the shallow location I had crossed only an hour ago.  

The stream had rather suddenly transformed from the babbling brook to a proper river. I navigated through the now thigh deep black water thankful I had brought my hiking poles to help keep me upright against the current. Though the unexpected river fording was only a few metres wide, I envisioned every step being my last should I misstep and be pulled under water with my heavy winter clothes and backpack.  I made it across the river now sopping wet and with saturated winter boots so heavy I had trouble lifting my legs to get up the embankment.  Note to self: Google "leg day"

Witching Hour

Eager to get back to my truck before the chill set in, I boats! Boats! BOATSED my way through the tangle of bushes next to the river, my tripod catching on branches illuminated by my light. I scrambled up the icy ditch to the highway and made it to my truck where I stood pantsless and sockless on the side of the road hoisting water laden boots into the bed of the truck and nervously giggling at my ordeal.  

It would appear that since the Kananaskis River is dammed, levels can fluctuate quite drastically and it would be in your best interest to bring a boat! Boat! BOAT!