Mirrorless camera is potent ammunition for the ever colossal DSLR camera. It has the precedence of being lighter, faster, compact, and suitable for videos. Besides, it also gives you the option to use the DSLR lens. Here, it provides you superior autofocus in virtually all models.
I choose this image for the Outdoor Challenge Contest as being a resident of New York City for the last 9 years this is my outdoors.
Life is like a camera. Focus on what’s important, capture the good moments, develop from the negative, and if things don’t work out take another shot. My high school Digital Photography teacher, Mrs. Licata gave me a framed photo with this quote, and it stands on my night stand every night. Once I say this photo contest, I knew this was the right time to put my best foot forward!
My photography journey began while living in east Tennessee, where there is an abundance of trees everywhere you look. The green of the grass and trees, the baby blue sky and country sites with hay rolls on long stretched out fields. Really not much to do if you do not have a farm to tend to. It is a peaceful place to live.
Oh don’t be fooled, it was a very wet and cold day!
I felt like I was getting into a routine as a seventh grader and my first year of middle school. I was getting to know new people and enjoying a little bit more freedom than what elementary school gave. I was also realizing that along with the freedom, there were struggles to fit in, double the amount of school work, and tough competition to play sports. But for the most part, it was going okay and I was getting through it.
My brother had found me that day crying. I was surrounded by boxes in the new room he so kindly let me stay in. I had just lost my high school sweetheart and the child we accidentally created. He patiently sat on the bed and let me howl about how worthless and lost I felt and about how much I wanted to give up. He gave me a few minutes to calm down and said, “ Grab your camera, Gab. Let’s go on a walk.” It took me a minute to find my old yearbook camera, I finally found it buried in an old box I honestly forgot about.
As I sit inside the house, hours ticking by, I can’t help but feel that the sun would be spectacular tonight. So as sundown neared, I grabbed my Canon t7i and headed out back to the farm. The air was fresh and clean, a good sign for a nice summer, but as I looked up, the thought of the clean, crisp air cleared my mind. All I could think about now was the shimmering of the sun just above eye level. My gut was right, the sun is beautiful tonight. I can only think of how much I am enjoying this moment as I snap the perfect picture. However, as quickly as the snap from my camera, the sun has set. I guess I really enjoyed the moment, because I only got one perfect picture.
There is an apple tree in the garden where I live. It runs alongside the six-foot tall fence and stretches above it's end. My parents care for it, having grown it from a sapling.
Hey! Amateur photographer here. I know almost nothing about settings, and my best strategy is "don't breathe", so my hands stay steady and shots don't come out blurry. Which is sometimes very hard to do, depending on my level of excitement. (I'm a really bad concert photographer because of this!) But this shot I captured back in 2013, is still one of my favorites ever, and makes me feel like a semi-professional. (I'm not even close, but it makes me feel that way!)
Alone and frustrated, I wander the empty streets with only the light of the moon and the tungsten glow from ageing street lights to guide me. There’s something about empty streets that puts me at ease. I feel at home; I can wander through the night like a ghost without fear of being seen or judged or held responsible for anything. It’s both cripplingly lonely and oddly comforting at the same time. It’s as if, in the dead of night, I finally have a place to belong. In this world of shadow and stillness I’m like a visitor from another time. The world has moved on. People are gone. And only I remain. Forgotten buildings, nothing more than silhouettes against starry skies, tower silently above me. The cracks across their crumbling exteriors could be wrinkles across giant faces – monuments of the people I once knew and will never know again.