When the world gives you fog, make lemonade.

I really wanted to get up to the Getty Museum one more time before they took down the Andre Kertesz exhibit that I wrote about here. I’m also looking to expand my architecture portfolio and figured “one stone.” I had it all planned out. I’d been there just a few weeks ago as the sun set and the golden hour worked it’s magic on the breathtaking buildings and landscape. It would almost be cheating to take a picture of it. A cyclops could nail that with one eye closed. Well, there was one hick up…

Like most museums they don’t allow tripods. I got steady hands. Heck, my prison nickname was Steady Hands. But I was looking to get some light balancing done as the building’s bulbs came on and the sun slipped away. I figured I’d have some exposures in the 2-4 second area. So I knew in advance I’d have to get creative about locking that camera down.

It’s long been my understanding that the spirit behind the no tripod rule at museums is based on the “danger” that some slack jaw art lover high on turpentine fumes, double decaf-cap, and Van Gough might stumble over one of the three legs and take a header. Seems unlikely to me, but I’m no scoff law when safety is concerned (right?). So how do I honor the spirit of the rule but still get some rock solid camera support? MINI POD! (cue electric guitar solo)

If you’re like me you have a box filled with lost dreams and mini tripods of various designs that seemed at the time of purchase like they were the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. Well fellas – and ladies if you are so inclined – three years ago I bought the best mini tripod ever. Oh, it’s expensive. But worth every penny. It’s this Bogen Table Top Kit. Sawweeet. I’ll review it at a later date. I’m just explaining how I used this little tripod to stay with what I felt was the spirit of the rule.

Though you might run into a security guy who is more about the rules and less about the spirit (I’m talkin’ about you, Demetri!) the point remains the same. A patron of the arts is more likely to trip over you than your wee little pod that you are now going to put on trash cans, benches, planter boxes, or whatever you can find in the general area of what you want to shoot.

So… I got to the Getty in the afternoon, had a burrito. Yeah, a museum burrito. It’s true. Then I started working out where I wanted to be in four hours later for the 15 minutes or so that the light would be just about where I wanted it: light enough to still see sky, but dark enough that the light from the building’s would be in balance. I got a few shots in the blazing sun that I was happy with and narrowed down my golden hour location to a position where I could hit two interesting buildings just by moving the camera a few feet.

Now I could relax, right? I had a piece of pie. Yep. Museum pie. And I waited for the the beautiful sunset to befall upon– (screeching brakes).

Despite the otherwise perfect weather – and me enjoying pie – a dense fog swallowed the hilltop and the museum along with it in about 15 minutes. Argh! The sunset was still an hour away. I asked Demetri to show the fog to the exit, but it wasn’t budging.

Sure, I could have drowned my sorrows with museum pizza, but no! I rethought what I had planned. What was this fog going to do? Scatter the light, that’s what. If I made the light sources the inspiration for the positioning of the shots instead of basing it just on the building, I just might have something better than I’d planned. Anybody could get a great sunset shot up there just about any night of the year, but how often does Uncle Foggy pay his respects? Not so much!

With the fog splintering the light and soaking it up before it could reach the building’s crevices, casting it’s ethereal glow all I had to do was pick the right position to accentuate that effect. Maybe then I could get a far more emotive image than I could have possibly gotten otherwise. At least that’s what I told myself as wet Uncle Foggy chilled my fingertips.

My first instinct when things out of my control get out of control used to be: panic, curse Zeus’s minions, and carb-load. Now, at least when photography is involved, I try to rethink the situation and figure out how to make lemonade. I think this time I got lemonade, but look at the photographs and decide for yourself.

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