The Outer Limits

On a filmmaking course at Raindance, the lecturer Elliot Grove talked of the abilities of the equipments that we could get our hands on to make our films.

He talked of instruction manuals and encouraged us to read and test our equipment by them. Then he stated an extraordinary fact: the instruction manuals did cover a lot of what the equipment was capable of, but not everything. The cameras, sound mixers and editing platforms we would use could do up to 50 per cent more than these manuals were letting on, and we would be well-advised to experiment with these as much as possible.

Where do you want to go today?

A musician friend once told me of the myriad ways he could work with a newly acquired mixing software package. I paralleled this with my photo editing gear: with so many features, how could one know exactly what to use in one’s work? Experiment, he answered.

Acquaintances introducing me to photo editing software talked of their experimentation: slowly working through all the features and finding out what worked best for them. I’ve continued doing so, and I think that my digital darkroom skills have improved as I’ve done so.

With my cameras, I continue to work my way through instruction manuals for years-old equipment. There always seems to be something new to discover. I find it hard to imagine buying more equipment if I haven’t reached the limits of what I’m currently using, be they a still camera, a handycam or a phone camera. “Better” photography could result as much to skilful use as well as better equipment.

In his terrific book Digital Film-Making, director Mike Figgis talks of using a camera often enough so that it becomes an extension of your hand, like a pen or a paintbrush. I love this approach. The idea of really knowing a piece of equipment and taking it to the limits of its capabilities is far more appealing to having a new piece of kit.