Photo Repair With Photoshop Elements

This past weekend, I did very little writing, having decided to work on photographs some more.

That's on thing that's nice about having several interests. If the weather is too bad and I feel to bad to get outside, wander, and take photographs, then there are hundreds of photos that I have taken that can use touching up and/or experimenting with in Photoshop Elements to get exercise my artistic muscles.

I was in the mood to take some more of the photographs that I scanned on a flatbed scanner when Lovely Wife and I were in Louisiana this past December, and that had my interest when other things didn't. Each and every one of those photos I work on, repair, and archive makes me feel better. Like I'm saving some family history in the best way that I can.

The photo I want to show you today, is one of my parents when they were young newlyweds and the original needed lots of help. I've been putting off working on this one knowing it would be a tedious job.

Without further ado, here's the before and after of one of the photos I tried to repair and archive this weekend instead of writing.



The original photo had been cut to fit into an oval frame and I created a black vignette from the oval edge outward.

Give 'em a click and let me know what y'all think.

My Achin' Back; My New Tripod!

Yet another day without much to say. I haven't been writing things about the old days much lately, so I can't fluff up something and put it out there for y'all.

Today is my every-other-Friday-off Friday, so I slept late, and for some reason my back is giving me fits.

We had overcast skies and rain Wednesday night and yesterday, and it's mostly blown through, and my back tends to hurt more when a weather front leaves than when one is about to arrive.

Consequently I cannot predict weather with my aching bones like some, because mine hurts more when the bad weather leaves than when it's almost here.

Just one more way I'm weird, eh?

Warning, Abrupt Subject Change Ahead:

I've been into photography since I was around 12-13, in the eighth grade. And I've mostly been the type of photographer to try to hand-hold my shots unless I was outside at night when hand-holding a 15 second shot is impossible.

Since I didn't use a tripod a lot, I've always had a cheap one. I always wanted a nice one, but them puppies can be ex-pen-sive, believe you me.

Really fussy photographers will easily spend $600 on a decent tripod. Yep, that is not a mistype. Six hundred smackaroos, my friends.

But, being an engineer has it's advantages. Heck, even having the engineer personality type would help here.

What I'm talking about is the type of person, like me, who, when they want to buy something, do what the engineering world calls a "trade study."

Lately I've wanted to buy my first "decent" tripod. But I will NOT, NOT, pay $600 for a tripod. If you put $600 in my hand, I can buy two lenses I'd like to have used on ebay for that. So, no matter what, I won't pay $600 for a tripod unless I was starting a photography business where I'd need a tripod to take heavy abuse, right?

So what happens in a trade study, which is easier with that new-fangled invention called the internet, is that I can go to photography web sites and read the trillions of personal observations on tripods and why joe photographer likes this one, but not that one.

I learned that today's $600 will buy you a decent set of carbon fiber tripod legs and a decent ball head for mounting your camera on.

It turns out that tripod legs and the head that mounts on top come in a dizzying array of types and prices. I won't bore you with the details, this ramble is already boring enough.

But after a couple of months of searching, searching, reading, and whatnot and learning more than even I ever wanted to know about tripods, I finally decided on a Slik 700DX.

It's reasonably priced for a heavy duty tripod, and most important of all, it stretches out really tall.

Some day's I'm 6'2", some days I'm 6'1" (depending on how wore out I am) and I've never had a tripod with legs that would allow me to say, point a camera at the moon without me having to stoop over and then look up into the camera's viewfinder. That's not fun at all, therefore I've done very few shots of the moon or anything where I need the camera pointing up.

A couple of days ago, my new tripod arrived, and it's definitely a sturdy booger. Despite having a screwy back, I'm still a pretty good pack mule, and what many folks consider heavy, I don't.

All of that goes to say this, my life is so exciting right now that a new, heavy duty, TALL tripod purchase was the highlight of my week. I'm going to try to get some photos I've been thinking about now that I have it too.

And. That's my story.

Also, if anyone is foolish enough to try to steal a camera from a 300lb man, I can easily beat him to death with my new tripod.

I Come From a Winning Family

Yesterday, Michelle at Michelle's Spell mentioned having mostly received participation ribbons when she was growing up.

And I got to thinking about all the things that I have won in my life, and it's really a pretty short list, despite the title of today's post.

When I was a kid and lived in Vidalia, Louisiana, I played baseball on the Sherriff's Department Angels little league team. I always thought that was a cool name, even as a kid. Sherriff's deputies mostly deal with anything but angels; know what I mean?

Anyhoo, I think I played two years, and sucked bad enough that both years at the season ending award ceremonies I received a tiny participation trophy. I understood even back then that they were lame, but I sure as heck took them home anyway. Lord only knows whatever happened to them.

I was always a whiz as a kid at memorizing Bible verses, and I won just about every church contest I was ever in. So, although this resulted in no trophies, I won an assortment of candies and whatnot for those wins. I was kind of a Bible nerd as a kid. I liked memorizing verses and had whole chapters of Psalms and various crucial New Testament verses memorized. I just never knew when I was going to have to "commence to convertin'" someone, as my Mamaw Eunice used to say. And as a kid in Baptist churches, the verses in The Roman Road to Salvation were the most important to memorize.

And thanks to the Holy Spirit, whenever I've needed to call up those scriptures, they still roll off my tongue like I'd been studying for a test on them. Of course, reading the Bible helps; I read over them all from time to time.

In around tenth grade, a good friend and I, who attended the same church, went for a week at a summer youth camp way out in the woods and swamps near Shreveport, Louisiana. All of the buildings were built on stilts about ten feet up because it flooded so often. Well, to make a long story short, I won the "best camper" trophy for that week. Which is a laugh. The best camper was the winner of most of the Bible related games, and that's where my memory skills paid off big time. That is if you count being named "best camper" at an obscure Baptist church camp hitting the big time.

Then, in the summer before my senior year of high school (12th), I attended a photography / yearbook staff workshop held at Northeast Louisiana University (now University of Louisiana at Monroe). I won a nice trophy for having taken the "best candid photograph" of the workshop. It was of a campus cop writing a ticket to put on some poor person's VW Beetle. The cop looked up as I had the camera pointed at him and just grinned really big. Like he was so proud to be writing that ticket. I don't know if I still have a copy of that anywhere. I haven't seen the photo in years, but I can still picture him in my mind.

I also won a small trophy at that same workshop for coming in second in the "best overall photographer" category. I was much more proud of the candid photograph trophy than I would have been to win best overall. I knew as soon as I pushed the shutter button on that cop's smile, that was a good photo. Sometimes you know a photograph is really good the instant you take the shot. I couldn't have cared less about the rest of what I did. I was addicted to finding "the shot" every time I had my camera. I guess looking for "the shot" is what still has me out wandering around with my camera all of these years later.

Then years later, this would have been around 1985, Lovely Wife and I were living in Bossier City, Louisiana. We were in our apartment one day when the phone rang. It was the day after Father's Day, and this strange man tells me all excited-like how I'd won the drawing for the rod and reel at the drawing they had had on Father's Day.

I remember being dumbfounded. I told the man that I had never in my life been in that particular sporting goods store before and I certainly hadn't entered the contest.

I asked him to hold on, and asked Lovely Wife if she had entered my name in any drawings for Father's Day and at first she seemed as flummoxed as I was, then I saw her face change as she remembered doing just that. I told the guy I'd come get my rod and reel as soon as I could.

I kept that rod and reel for years, and it moved from apartment to apartment to house, etc., with us for years until, well, I don't know what ever happened to that major award. All I know is I never once fished with it.

I guess we kept moving it with us as some sort of symbol; that it was indeed possible that sometimes good things can happen to us out of the blue.

I know what you're thinking, "Man! This Dude should be playin' the lottery. He'd be a squillionaire by now."

Oh contrare, mon ami.

Years after winning that rod and reel, I took a discrete math course at La. Tech, which is a jumble of maths from different areas that are directly applicable to computer programming and digital logic. Mostly binary math, logic, probability and things like that.

One day in the discrete math class, we all got in there and the professor looked around and noticed that many students were absent. She was a young Computer Science PhD, and immediately recognized that it was a case of Friday-itis that had swept the class, leaving it half full.

She had us pull out paper for a pop quiz. All we had to do was calculate the odds of winning the Powerball Lottery, which is available in Louisiana. At the time, the way the game was played, I came up with a number of 1 in 155Million and something something chance of winning by buying one ticket.

I got the answer right, which was good for my grade, but has been a great incentive for me to NOT play the lottery. Every time the Powerball would get up to one of those $100Million jackpots, and folks were buying tickets like crazy, I would remember that pop quiz in my discrete math class and it was easy to not buy a ticket.

Which brings me to the "family" part of today's title.

Sainted Mother once won an electric ice cream freezer. You know, the kind our forefathers used to have to sit and crank and crank to make homemade ice cream with. Only the one Sainted Mother won was electric. It turned all by it's little ol' self as soon as you plugged that baby into an electrical socket.

Big Brother once "volunteered" Sainted Mother to make homemade ice cream for a team he was on, and said that she would make them chocolate ice cream. Well, it ended up becoming chocolate chips in vanilla by accident, and everybody raved over how wonderful her "accidental" ice cream tasted.

Another true-blue winner in our family is Big Sis.

Big Sis is a member of some Keith Urban Obsessed Stalker Fan Club or something and this year already has planned out four, count 'em four, Keith Urban concert trips all over the country. Well, as a member of this Keith Urban Obsessed Stalker Fan Club, Big Sis's name was entered into a drawing. The people whose names are drawn for whichever concerts they are attending get to go back stage before the concert and meet with Keith Urban. There are only eight Stalker Fan Club members that get to do this before each concert.

Well, Big Sis won herself one of the coveted eight spots before one of the four concerts she's planning to go to, so she'll be able to meet Mr. Talented yet again.

I actually kinda feel sorry for Mr. Urban. He just doesn't know Big Sis like I do. He has no idea what he's in for.

(It's been a while, but I've written about Big Sis's obsession with Keith Urban if y'all care to read them. A Day of Mourning, and Me and Accents and She's All A-Twitter.)

I just thought I'd share the amazing good fortune that myself and relatives have had over the years.

What with fishing rods, electric ice cream makers, and meeting Keith Urban, people should rub out heads for good luck every day.

Toys

Yesterday, I spent a little time trying to create a simple setup where I could take photos of small items and have them look nice (without buying expensive pro lighting stuff).

I took some pictures of some of my cameras, and also a reissue of some of Tom Daniel's car designs.

Tom Daniel designed some of the original Hotwheels that Big Brother and I played with as kids. My favorite Hotwheels of all time is the Red Baron.

These Tom Daniel reissues were not produced by Mattel as Hotwheels. The cars are about 2 or 3 times the size of regular Hotwheels.

Here's two of my shots of my bigger Red Baron. I still love this design. I've always loved roadsters with the engine built up and open so that it can be seen.


When Lovely Wife and I were in Louisiana after Christmas last December, Big Sis gave me an old camera that had belonged to her In Laws. It's an old Agfa Model PD16 Clipper Camera. It is in almost mint condition; it isn't worth much, but I like it anyway. The only problem is that it takes a unique film size, 616, that is no longer made. I've seen folks on the internet that have posted processes to be able to load and use modern 120 or 220 film (like wedding photographers use in their Hasselblads), but I haven't tried to do that yet. That's a project for another time.

Here's the camera and it's box. I think it was made in the 1930s; Kodak introduced 616 film in 1931.

Last, and certainly not least, is my trusty old pal, my Canon AE-1 I bought in the summer of 1979 with my yard mowing money. It still works fine; I had it CLAed (cleaned, lubricated, and adjusted) a few years ago.

Picture Post, Sunday April 22, 2007

Babystepper wrote a post a couple of days ago about a boy they know that was struck my lightning. He's ok, but it reminded me of this sign I photographed a week or so ago at Sebastian Inlet State Park. Sebastian inlet is the closest way from where we live to get boats out to the Atlantic Ocean. There's a really nifty park there and I went and walked around and saw this sign. (This is the wide view so y'all can see the beach and beautiful sky and water.)

Here's a better look at the sign; stuff like this intrigues me. Thankfully there wasn't much chance of lightning strikes that day.

This is Angel, one of our poodles. She's obsessed with chasing lizards, and was out showing me what a great hunter she is when I took this photo.

This is Angel, and Spike chillin' on top of my bass amplifier in our bedroom window. They love it when the weather is mild enough to have the windows open. This is their perch for watching, and barking at, the world. Spike and me are the only boys in the house. I love his "soul patch," that little tuft of white hair on his chin. He's pretty laid back like me; if he was any more so he wouldn't have a pulse.

I was testing out my new lens and when I walked back inside from the front yard, I stopped and took a photo inside the house, and kinda like it.

Daddy's Little Man

I worked on a few photos last night. More of the one's I scanned on the trip we made to Louisiana after Christmas.

My Younger Brother is seven years younger than me. He was born in 1970. He always had, and still does, a great imagination and flair for being funny. He kept us all laughing with his original characters that he would "become" when playing.

We used to call him Daddy's Little Man. They were buds.




I was able to do some nice repair and color correction using Photoshop Elements on all of these. It's a lot of fun and it's gratifying to take photos that only exist in one fading print, scan them, bring them back to life, and archive them for the future.

And it allows me to do something productive when I'm not in a writing mood.

Jumpin' John

After my junior year (11th grade) of high school, I bought my first good camera, a Canon AE-1.

The head of the high school yearbook said I could work on the yearbook staff if I had a camera. So I worked my hiney off and saved and bought the camera during the summer of 1979, a couple of months before beginning my senior year.

I called the teacher and told her I had a camera, and she said I could go to a summer yearbook workshop that was happening just before school started. The workshop was held in my hometown at University of Louisiana - Monroe, so the week long event was a total blast. Easy to get to and I learned black and white film and print developing.

When school started, they supplied me with a "potato masher," a big flash like pros used, to take pictures at football games and whatnot.

The camera, I just carried around all day at school and took photos of the other nobodies like myself. The yearbook's main photographer was another senior, but this guy was born to be a pro photographer. He already had tons of equipment and experience and was being counted on to deliver the great shots.

Steve did fantastic work, but there was only one issue with all of that; Mrs. D, the teacher in charge of the yearbook wanted photos and she wanted them fast. And a bunch of them.

What to do? Steve was such a social person, he often was able to take photos at events but somehow didn't have much time for grinding out the film and print work in the school's darkroom.

"Uh, Mrs. D? I can stay late on school days, and I can come in on weekends and do darkroom work for you. As much as you want. Whenever you want," Said I.

She looked at me like I had a two heads. A high school student, working on a yearbood for which he got no credit, and for which he was willing to work what amounted to a part-time job for free? She immediately took me up on my offer.

My feet didn't touch the ground for two weeks. Unlimited Kodak Tri-X (ISO 400, B&W film) for the school year, and as many prints as I could churn out for Mrs. D.

When the film was developed, I would make contact prints by putting a piece of 8x10 light sensitive paper down, lay out the strips of film, flatten it it all together with a piece of glass and shine the enlarger light on them for a few seconds, and then develop that print and let it dry.

Mrs. D would take a stack of these contact sheets, each showing small pics of a whole roll of film, examine them with a loupe and circle the ones she wanted me to print.

After school for many days and many weekends through the year, I did much of the darkroom work. Steve did his share, but I was Mrs. D's go-to guy for rush jobs and weekend work.

But the sweetest part of the whole deal is that I made sure, with Mrs. D's blessing, to develop lots of photos of the nobodies, dregs, and wretches that usually never make it to the yearbook because yearbook space is usually given over to the beautiful and the popular. I'm very proud of my senior year yearbook because lots of folks got their pics in there that wouldn't have otherwise because of lack of being a jock or popular.

Why in the heck is this post titled Jumpin' John then?

Well, one Monday after my high school's football team had won a playoff game the previous week, several classmates called to me in the hall. "Hey! There's Jumpin' John!" and then move on. I had no idea what they were talking about.

Finally someone on the football team told me. They had all come in Sunday afternoon to watch films of the game, and when our running back scored the winning touchdown, the coaches rewound the game film, and then said, "Now, watch what happens on the upper part of the sideline when and after the score."

And they re-ran that portion of the film, and there was Me on the sideline, camera held to my eye, waiting for the running back to dive for the short touchdown, took a couple of shots, watched for the umpire's signal confirming the score, whereupon I apparently started running and leaping and dancing up and down the far-side sideline.

The football team got a laugh out of it, and the coaches re-wound the film and they watched it again, and one of the coaches mentioned for the players to watch and see that I got the shots, waited for the official to signal the score, and THEN started my celebrations.

So I was Jumpin' John there for a few weeks in the fall of my senior high school year, and then some other schmuck did something stupid and they left me alone and started eating on other carrion. High school students have short attention spans thankfully.

Not that I cared anyway, I was bigger than most all of them and they were sure to do their picking on me in a good-natured way.

Anyhoo, that's my story.

The top pic is of a physics classmate pretending to pound Mr. Luther with a dusty chalkboard eraser.

The middle pic is of a behind-the-lines tackle I photographed in a playoff game against Lake Charles High School.

The final photo is a bust of none other than the great William Shakespeare, dressed up as a Neville Tiger fan. It was in our English class.