This is both a very difficult and a very easy question to answer.

Difficult because there are so many photographers whose work I admire - Edward Weston, Joyce Tenneson, Man Ray, Jaques Henri Lartigue, László Moholy-Nagy, Minor White, Val Brinkerhoff, Cheryl Jacobs, Eric Boutilier-Brown, Sanders McNew … the list could go on for several pages - most of whom you’ve probably never heard of unless you’re a collector of photography, or a photographer yourself.

Easy because there’s one photographer in particular that’s right at the top of that long list of names, because he is the epitome of everything I aspire to be as a photographer: Jock Sturges.

I was first introduced to Jock’s work in the mid 1990s when, visiting family in Germany and upholding the long tradition that my mother and I had of attending museums, I stepped into the Museum für Moderne Kunst in Frankfurt am Main, and witnessed the most stunning portraits I had ever seen. I had been interested in photography for many years already, and had been dabbling here and there while pursuing other interests. It was upon seeing Jock’s work that day that I was inspired to seriously study the art and craft of photography.

Jock is derided and denounced by some because of the nakedness of his youthful models. Some even accuse his photographs of being pornographic. This is utter nonsense. Pornography is cheap, sleazy and superficial. None of those descriptions can possibly apply to Jock’s work. His portraits have a depth and an intensity to them that cannot be ignored. Indeed, when I look at the photographs he makes, I feel like I know these people as well as he does, and when I examine the prints I see a level of excellence in quality that can only ever be produced by the loving, caring hand of a consummate craftsman.

I have since had the privilege of meeting Jock, and being mentored by him. He is one of the kindest, gentlest, most empathetic people I have ever known. He taught me that a photograph of a person by another person is a record of the relationship between them at that moment. That’s what Jock’s photographs are all about. When you understand that he photographs these people as he finds them, that this is how they live their lives every day, then their nudity becomes just another aspect of the honesty with which he photographs them.

And that, above all, is what I admire about Jock and his work, and what I aspire to achieve with my own photographs: The truly honest portrait.

A question I get asked quite often as I network with other businesspeople is “How did you get into photography?”

I suppose the story starts back when I was about 6, and got a little Kodak Instamatic camera for Christmas. It was one of those long, slim ones that used the 110 cartridge film and the tall narrow flash-bulb-on-a-stick things. It had a little push-lever on it to switch from “Photo” to “Telephoto” mode, and I can still remember squealing with delight at the TV and magazine ads featuring Telly Savalas calling it “Photo” and “Telly Photo”. Back then, that seemed like the funniest thing in the world to me. It still kinda makes me chuckle.

My interests varied and drifted over the course of my youth, as I went through the process of finding myself, but my real interests and passions always came back to three things: Aviation, computers and photography. In my teen years, my greatest ambition was to join the Air Force and become an F-16 pilot. In college, I ended up leaving the ROTC program because an administration change altered the process (I would still have to sign a seven-year commitment, but would not be guaranteed entry into flight school, and I didn’t want to spend seven years in a missile silo or working intelligence ops, both of which were likely assignments given my existing skill set and choice of curricula), majoring in Computer Science, and then working in that field for several happy years.

In 2001, the “dot-bomb” hit, and with the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a lot of investors got antsy. The young startup I was working for at the time was forced to make some tough cuts, and I lost my job, along with thousands of others across the country. Rather than fight for the remaining crumbs, I decided to swap my profession and my hobby, and started my photography business.

In the years since, I have learned many things about owning and running a business (things they never bothered to teach me in school, making me wonder why I spent so much time there in the first place), and have found myself surprisingly happy and fulfilled, even though it doesn’t pay nearly as well as being a software engineer did.

I love what I do, and I don’t ever want to give it up.

Today’s question came to me through email:

It seems that even after I delete pictures from my memory card they are still there, why is this? Am I doing it incorrectly?
- Corinna C.

It’s possible, Corinna.

First we need to understand what happens when you delete a picture.

You camera’s memory card works a lot like the hard drive on your computer. It’s basically a solid-state version of what your hard drive uses a spinning stack of magnetically coated aluminum discs to do.

When you delete a file from your memory card, you’re not actually removing the data — you’re removing it’s entry in the file system’s table of contents. The data is actually still there, until it is overwritten by other data. That’s how data recovery software like undelete and Norton’s system tools can bring back deleted files. (Actually, it’s still there even after it’s been overwritten several times, much like the imprint left on the underlying sheets of a pad of paper by the pressure of writing on the top sheet. Technicians with specialized equipment, like those in the FBI’s computer forensics lab, can retrieve data from badly damaged hardware, and data that’s been overwritten multiple times.)

In your case, though it’s possible that there is some kind of malfunction in the removal of the file’s entry from the card’s electronic table of contents, the most likely explanation is that the picture’s read-only bit has been set. That’s basically a little marker in the file’s entry that tells the system not to delete it, even if you ask it to. Most cameras these days have a function called “protect”, that can be turned on for individual pictures so that you don’t delete them by accident. If you inadvertently turned this function on for the picture in question, the camera will refuse to delete it.

I can’t be sure exactly what you’re camera is doing without looking at it in person, but that’s the most likely explanation.

I, personally, never use the delete button on the camera itself. It’s far too easy to miss a good image by pre-judging it on the teensy little screen that’s built into the unit, and end up deleting what might have been a great photograph.

It’s simply impossible to properly examine an image on the camera’s built-in LCD. It’s far too small to show all the detail necessary to make that judgement, and it’s most likely not calibrated correctly anyway - something that looks really bad on the camera may be just fine when you get it into the computer, or vice-versa … it may look fine on the LCD and be utterly awful when you see it full-size. The camera’s LCD is just not a reliable way to decide which photos to keep and which to junk.

I recommend copying all the files to the computer, burning a backup copy to CD or DVD (BEFORE you do anything else!!!!), and then using something like LightRoom or Picassa or iPhoto to sort and edit them. You can then happily reformat the card in the camera, and use it for your next batch of photographs.

One of the questions that’s queued up on my Ask the Photographer list recently is “Why do photos get ‘red-eye’?”

Red-eye usually happens when you’re photographing people or animals in low-light situations, and the on-camera flash is activated.

Because on-camera flashes are so close to the lens axis, and the pupils of the eye are wide open at night or in a dimly lit room, the strobe of light from the flash enters the eye and reflects off the blood-filled retina, turning the pupils red in the photograph. You’ll see a similar effect on television wildlife programs, when they film animals at night - that strange glow in the eyes is the same effect as the red-eye that you sometimes get in your own pictures.

There are several ways to avoid red-eye:

1 - Don’t use a flash. This means working with available light, which requires very long shutter speeds in low-light situations. Long shutter speeds mean that people would have to hold very still for a long time, and the camera has to be held perfectly stationary, necessitating the use of a tripod or other sturdy mounting device. Not at all convenient for parties.

2 - Do something to cause the pupils to contract. Many cameras with built-in flashes now have a pre-flash option, which fires the strobe before the exposure is made, to give the pupils time to contract. This won’t eliminate the problem, since the flash is still firing from an angle which allows the light to reflect off the retina into the lens, but it can help minimize the effect. Some people find it disturbing - it can cause squinting.

3 - Move the flash further away from the lens axis. This is the most desirable option … and also the most expensive. You’ll often see professional event photographers running around with a big metal arm protruding from their camera, with the flash on it. They do this for two reasons: It eliminates red-eye by making sure the light from the flash isn’t reflected directly into the lens (a basic principle of optics - angle of incidence equals angle of reflection), and it produces a more flattering photograph by lighting the face from an angle, rather than straight-on.

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Got a question you want answered? Attend my weekly “Ask the Photographer” event in Dover NH’s Henry Law Park on Thursdays from 4 to 7 PM, or email them to me (link available on the Contact page.

During a recent telephone conversation with a friend, the topic of shopping for a photographer arose.

“Why is it,” I was asked, “that I get such widely varying price quotes from different photographers, for what appears to me to be the same thing? I call up and ask for prices, and one wants $35 for a ’sitting fee’ and $20 for an 8×10, another wants $300 and $200 for the same things. Another one wants $500 for some kind of package deal that I couldn’t make heads nor tails of, involving something called ‘units’. I’m confused. And why do they want twenty or two hundred dollars for an 8×10, when I can go down to the drug store and get one for two or three bucks? What’s up with that?”

What it boils down to is, in essence, the question “What, exactly, am I paying for?”

The obvious answer is “Well, duh! I’m paying for pictures. I give the photographer money and I go home with an 8×10, a couple of 5×7s and some wallets.”

Well, there’s more to it than that. It’s not just sitting you down in front of the camera and pushing the button - that’s just the part you see. A lot goes on (”behind the scenes”, as it were) both before and after, to make a photograph possible. The setting has to be chosen and prepared, the lighting has to be accounted for, the photographs need to be reviewed and the photographer needs to select the ones for you to choose from, you need to choose the ones you want to take home with you, and then those need to get put on the paper (a process that, done properly, involves a lot more than just putting a memory card into a machine and pushing a button!)

Regardless of whether you’re having a portrait made of your newborn baby, or you’re an advertising agent creating a double-page spread for a national magazine, when you’re hiring a photographer, what you’re really paying for is much more than a piece of paper with a picture on it. You’re paying for their time, their talent, their creative vision, the years (or decades, in some cases) that they’ve invested in honing their craft. You’re paying them to interpret something for you, and put that interpretation on paper in the form of a photograph.

As with all things, you tend to get what you pay for.

Like hiring any kind of professional, you are well advised to do your homework before hiring a photographer. Calling up and asking for prices can be a start, but it doesn’t really tell you much about the quality of their work, or how they are to work with.

I maintain that the most important question you can ask a photographer before you hire them, is “Where can I see some of your work?” Why? Because seeing their work - actual finished pieces, not just digital reproductions on a website! - will not only give you an idea of their skill as a photographer and the quality of their production process, it will also let you judge whether their artistic vision is likely to produce photographs that you will want to proudly display in your home.

People often ask me what camera I use. While that is a legitimate question, it’s not as important as you may have been led to believe.

How often have you heard someone comment that “Wow, your pictures came out great! You must have a really good camera!”? In truth, that’s like saying that the chef in the restaurant where you just had that magnificent meal must have great pots and pans. While it’s true that professionals in all fields tend to have the best tools, that’s exactly what they are: Tools. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s a lot more about how those tools get used, than how fancy they are or how much they cost. Puting the best torque wrench in the world into the hands of a master accountant, doesn’t automatically render him capable of repairing your car.

Cameras are much the same. Case in point: A quick search on Flickr will generate a list of photographs made with a $20- “toy” camera from Russia called the Holga. Some of the images are, indeed, quite masterful. So you see, it’s a lot less about the camera (which is, at it’s core, just a dark box to hold film - or, these days, a digital sensor), than about the photographer’s ability to get the image in their mind’s eye into the camera.

The short answer to the question “What’s the best camera?”, is “The one you have with you.”

There’s more to it, of course. But before you go out and buy the latest and greatest camera technology, remember the lesson of the Holga: the most expensive camera with all the bells and whistles and technological wizardry, isn’t necessarily the “best” one - ask yourself whether you’re getting the most of the camera you already have …