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People I know that are just getting into photography tend to ask me how they can take better pictures. I find myself giving the same advice again and again.

take a lot of shots

Take what you think are a lot of pictures. Then, multiply that number by 100, go out and take that many more. Most people simply don't take enough photos to get any good ones. With the advent of digital cameras the excuse of the cost of buying and developing film no longer applies, so get out there and shoot!

I don't think many people think about how many photos the average pro takes, and what ruthless self-critics they are. You may think those 200 pictures you shot from your last two week vacation was a lot, and you were disappointed when you only got one or two good ones. But think about it: a pro might shoot 10,000 pictures a week. At my wedding, the professional photographer we hired took nearly 3000 pictures in just eight hours. If you shot 3000 pictures over your entire two week trip, how many more good ones do you think you'd have gotten? Plus, it's likely that your hit percentage will go up with that much practice.

It may seem that if you shoot that many images, you'll get a lot better and your hit rate will climb dramatically. You'll find, though, that as your pictures get better your eye tends to become more critical too. I've yet to meet any serious amateur that is happy with more than 5% of their shots on average because of steadily increasing personal standards. I recently asked this question of a pro in one of the forums; he told me he initially culls about 90% of his images from every shoot. When he visits them again in a few days he knocks out 90% of what remains-we're down to 1% for those of you keeping track. Now, he wrote, I'm at the point where I've gotten rid of all the glaring errors and the what-was-I-thinking shots and I can start looking through them with a critical eye for the shots that get the fine details right. I asked how this usually goes and he said, Depends on the day I took the shots. Sometimes you're on, sometimes you're off, just like anything else. I've had experiences where I tossed every single shot onto the scrap heap, and I've had other days where I was happy with nearly all of them. On average, probably one-fifth to one-third...but few shoots are actually average.

So he's only happy with 0.2% to 0.3% of his shots. I've seen the "losers" he posts in the forums...for my own part, with my shooting standards, I'd probably be mostly satisfied with the shots that make his first 90% cut if I took them.

Many people are discouraged when they see their photos because they go in with expectations of having a few bad shots here and there, but mostly Ansel Adams landscapes, Helmut Newton portraits, and Henri Cartier-Bresson street shots. With that standard in mind, Ansel Adams, Helmut Newton, and Henri Cartier-Bresson would have been just as disappointed with their photography.

The main point: if you make a realistic estimate up front that you're only going to be happy with 2% or 3% of your shots, and you only take 100 shots a week...

know your equipment

Imagine that it's you vs. Ansel at the exotic locale of your choosing. You have an unlimited budget, all the latest equipment, a train of pack mules to carry said equipment, and a team of runners to fetch everything you need. Ansel has a disposable camera from Walgreen's...you know, the stupid little thing in the yellow cardboard box with the brushed plastic lens. Who's coming away with better pictures?

Moral 1: equipment can only help you if you know how to use it.

Moral 2: you can do a lot more than you think with a stupid little yellow cardboard box with a brushed plastic lens.

frame

Besides knowing the basics of what to do when a camera is in your hands, there's value in knowing a little bit about the basics of how as well. So you're taking a lot of pictures, and you've mastered every knob and dial...but what should you be pointing the camera at when taking those pictures?

In this section I ask you to think about the composition of an image. This may at first seem like the flighty notion of some pretentious artiste. However, there is much to composition that is in-born in every human. When we look at a scene, our eyes tend to begin with whatever our brains tell us is closest to us. Then, we tend to follow lines in whatever direction they seem to converge, particularly if our brain tells us these lines are parallel in reality (for instance, a road; the brain perceives that the edges of a road are parallel even though they appear to converge as the road recedes into the distance). We tend to find comfort and peace in some shapes and color combinations while others excite or annoy us. Moreover, different people mostly tend to agree on what is comforting and what is annoying.

Though it is definitely true that personal preference plays a large role in how a particular viewer feels about a specific jumble of random shapes and colors, there are also commonalities in interpretation shared by most. My aim is to convince you that there is a kind of science to composition.

dead on is dead wrong (unless it's not)

Don't ever, ever, ever put the primary subject of the photo in the dead center, except when you break this rule.

Putting the main subject in the center is compositionally boring 99 times out of 100. The viewer's eye looks at the photo, sees the subject in the center, has no reason to move off the subject, and quickly loses interest. Having said that, you should always put the main subject in the dead center of the frame if you think it might work-as long as the choice is consciously made, it's not a mistake. That photo might be in the vast majority of photos you take that didn't work out, but every photo should at least be the result of critical thinking.

Lomography has come to mean a style of photography that seeks to make the worst technical image possible, in tribute to the cheap, plastic, light-leaky "camera for the people" that the company Leningradskoye Optiko Mechanichesckoye Obyedinenie produced so the average iron curtain-clad Soviet could have a camera. So destitute was this market that many of these cameras segmented the little smudge of brushed plastic deemed a lens into as many as six panes, each in front of only the corresponding portion of the 35mm film frame. By placing six images per frame before advancing the film, that many more times the pictures could be taken on a single roll of film. There was no way to focus, and in the really low-end models, there was no need for a battery...simply wind a spring and hit the shutter release. The tighter you wind the spring, the faster the shutter speed-until you wind it so tight you break it, that is.

Most modern "lomo" galleries are a steady diet of out-of-focus, motion-blurred shots with tilted horizons and compositions made with the photographer blind, not looking through the viewfinder. But because the choices to ignore these aspects of photography are consciously made, the photos often show certain aspects of care and craft, and they can be intriguing and expressive. Many of the normal rules of photography may get short shrift when it comes to lomo, but because the photographer is making conscious choices about what to ignore and what not to ignore, the aspects that get creative attention often compensate in surprising ways.

shape

When I look through the viewfinder at a scene, I imagine that all of the details have been erased, leaving only blocks of tonality separated by the major lines and curves in the scene. To get an idea of what I'm picturing, imagine racking the lens focus so everything is completely blurred.

Look at the lines of the image and the shapes they define. Is a triangle prominent? Is it point-up (stability) or point-down (instability)? Is there a circle or an oval (visual representations of peacefulness or relaxation)? Is there a long rectangle? Is it horizontal (motion) or vertical (majesty)? Is it tilted (dynamism)?

form

Now focus only on the lines present in the image. Try to forget how they are related in three dimensions and only look at them in two. How do they cut across the frame? Now look at the positions of the regions defined by the lines. How are they positioned relative to each other? Which lines/regions demand attention (positive space) and which ones fade into the background (negative space)? Is there an interesting balance between positive and negative space?

When you do this, you're looking at the form of the image. Some forms are interesting and some are not; strive for an interesting form.

color

Now add color to the form you're imagining. Which regions have vivid color, and which regions have subdued color? Is each region a solid shade or a gradient from light to dark, or one color to another?

Do the different colors in the image work well together? Are the prominent colors directly across from each other on the color wheel (contrapuntal)? Or do they form an equilateral triangle when plotted on the color wheel (harmonious)? If the combination is dramatic, does it fit the subject of the image? If the colors are subtle, is the subject matter subdued?

The moment you ask yourself these last questions containing the word subject, you're once again picturing the scene as it appears in the viewfinder with all the detail. You've come full-circle, starting with the simplest compositional elements and ending at the scene as a whole.

You're now ready to check the edges and corners of your frame for distractions and snap away.