Moody photography at the California Coast

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.

"Road to Seeing", by Dan Winters

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.

One year, three hundred and sixty five days

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.

A foggy morning on the Golden Gate Bridge

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!

Logos and visual clutter

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.

I watched a review of my favorite lens and it ruined my day

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.

Buying cameras and taking photos are two very different hobbies

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.

Photography in zero visibility at the Sonoma Coast

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.

There are no bad places to photograph, only bad conditions

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.

Photography under a foot of snow in Tahoe

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.

Save your future self time, tag your photos now

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!

Look back

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.

From foggy cemeteries to slot canyons in the American Southwest

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.

Master your tools

I believe the camera is a tool, and should get out of the way when we are making our images. But in order to get there, we need to master our tools.

Lessons from “The Zen of Creativity”

I recently finished reading “The Zen of Creativity” by the zen master and photographer John Daido Loori. This mix of skills gave me hope the book would offer a new and fresh perspective.

The book does indeed give valuable insights into applying some of the Zen art principles to photography and other creative areas.

Here are the main takeaways I got from it:

Beginner’s Mind

Embrace a mindset free from preconceived ideas and expectations. In photography, this might mean taking the time to fully observe familiar subjects. Also, visit locations or subjects that you haven’t seen before, with no prior knowledge about them, or exposure to another photographer’s work of them.

No Mind

The goal is to achieve a state of awareness devoid of distractions --achieved through meditation and consistent practice. I believe this is a very important aspect when it comes to photography, and that’s why I often emphasize the importance of practice. The more familiar we become with our equipment, the less it gets in the way, letting us to focus on what’s in front of the camera and on what we want to say.

Seeing with the Whole Body and Mind

Be mindful of what our senses, beyond vision, perceive and how we can communicate that through our photography. Evoking emotional responses in the viewer should be our primary objective. Even not on the book, I’d also like to point out here that those senses can trick us into believing our images are better than they really are. As photographers, we have a context the viewer does not have, and if the photographs are not strong enough to convey what’s necessary, then they’ll only speak to us.

Creative Feedback

Lastly, Loori emphasizes the significance of feedback. Not on technical aspects, but on the emotional impact our work has on the audience. He believes that most artists develop their career without truly knowing what their work means for their audience, if anything. They know what the art critics say, and whether the work is commercially successful or not. But beyond that, they are blind.

I go into much more detail on this book on my Patreon page.

Back "home"

I’m back home — whatever that means.

Over the years, I’ve called many places "home", some of them separated by oceans and several time zones. Each one has left its mark on me, and now, no matter where I am, there's a feeling of longing. Always missing something, somewhere.

My life feels like a collection of fragments that will never form a complete picture, because they are all far from each other. It's like a puzzle you can only glimpse one piece at a time, never the whole.

But don’t get me wrong: it’s a beautiful, big and rich puzzle. Imperfect, yes, and not without its downsides, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Interview with Frames Magazine

I recently sat down (virtually) with Tomasz from Frames Magazine to talk about my work and photography in general.

I broke my one rule... and it cost me

I didn't follow the rules I've set up for myself... and I missed a couple of good shots.

Why I shoot with a high resolution camera (A7Riv)

For the past five years, I’ve been using high-resolution full-frame cameras for my photography -- starting with the A7Rii, and now the A7Riv. This choice might seem surprising, especially given the type of images I create.

The reason is very simple: cropping.

I crop every single photograph I take, even when I get the perfect framing in-camera. Creating square images means I “discard” a third of the pixels, every single time.

A7Riv’s 61MP let me crop even further, and I often do. Switching to APS-C mode gives that extra reach I sometimes need, effectively turning my 28-200mm superzoom into a 28-300mm, while still producing large, detailed files.

In fact, in APS-C mode, the A7Riv matches the 26MP of a dedicated crop-sensor camera like the a6700. This means I can mount a lens like the 70-350mm and get an equivalent 525mm focal length in a compact setup -- much smaller than the full-frame counterparts. Or mount a prime like the 35mm 1.4 and "switch" to 50mm with the press of a button.

So, it’s not about having 61MP images; I couldn’t care less about that. It's about the flexibility those megapixels give me: I don't have to carry as much gear; or I can shoot in bad weather and not have to worry about switching lenses to get the focal length I need. I like camera gear that gets out of the way, because I can focus on what really matters: subject and composition.

Am I consistent... or just repetitive?

Oh, the delicate balance between consistency, working a subject matter or location over years, and avoiding stagnation. To make matters even worse, we live in a fast paced world that demands new and shiny things every couple of weeks. What is a photographer to do with all of this?