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WINTER 2012
IMAGING
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S H O O T E R
A
s readers of Alert Diver
know, underwater
photography is an
equipment-intensive
business. It requires most of the
same gear land photographers use
plus much, much more. Cameras
must be placed in underwater
housings, and special strobes, strobe
arms, cords, housing ports and
extension rings are needed as well.
Add to that cases full of lenses and
all the diving gear — wetsuits of
varying thicknesses, drysuits, masks,
snorkels, fins, regulators, BCDs
and more. Because I often work in
remote locations where I cannot
buy specialized items I might need
or even get equipment repaired, I
must bring backups of everything
plus an assortment of tools. In total,
I often head off on assignment with
30 cases of equipment in tow.
On many assignments I bring an
array of supplemental lights, including
movie lights with hundreds of feet of
cable to be powered by generators
on boats above. I sometimes envy
my street-shooting colleagues (who
travel with only two or three camera
bodies and a handful of lenses) and
underwater-photo enthusiasts who
get to travel to beautifully exotic
destinations with minimal baggage.
But then again, they don’t get to spend
months with sharks or sea turtles.
I have often mused that being
a National Geographic magazine
photographer is not unlike being
a professional athlete in that you
are only as good as your last game
(or in my case, my last story). The
magazine expects results, and a
photographer cannot have failures
and continue to expect assignments.
There are so many things that must
go right for success, and some
things inevitably go wrong. Learning
to overcome problems is key, and
problems come in all shapes and
sizes — from luggage not arriving
to equipment malfunctions. Mother
Nature can always be relied on to
bring variables you simply can’t
control, including bad weather, poor
visibility and the animals you’re
there to shoot just not showing up.
Knowing there are so many things
I cannot control, I dedicate as much
time as possible working on the
things I can. Detailed research is
crucial, because I need to know as
much as possible about my subjects
and locations. I want to know where
and when they can be found, if the
water is clear enough for pictures
and what behaviors I might be
able to document. Once I have the
assignment, I adopt a mindset in
which failure is not an option. This
job has been called a zero-mistake
game: Fail to deliver the goods, and
you are done. With this always in
mind, I have learned to become good
at research and solving problems.
Perhaps the most valuable
resource I have, though, is time in
the field. With time I can usually
overcome whatever challenges or
problems occur. Time allows me to
learn firsthand about the place in
which I am working: what happens
at different times of day and how
animals behave. Often the best
images are made when something
unexpected happens, and taking time
allows more opportunities to present
themselves. But serendipity can
be seized only if I am prepared, so
while I might be wandering casually
through un derwater domains, I am
always vigilant and ready.
Brian Skerry:
On Being a ShOOter
Above: Cover of Ocean Soul
Below, from top: A fisherman holds the shrimp he caught
in his bottom trawl net after towing it for an hour; the other
dead animals are bycatch, thrown back into the sea as
trash. Loligo opalescens squid spawning off California’s
Channel Islands. The male’s arms blush red when embracing
the female, a warning sign to competing males to back
off. Yellowfin tuna in a tuna ranching operation off Baja,
Mexico.
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