Improve Your Photography by Practising Localism

One of the best things I have learned from years of photography is that you don't have to travel halfway around the world to find something worth photographing. Sometimes the best photography is right outside your front door.

I call it photographic localism: spending time photographing your own neighbourhood, parks, ravines, streets and the people who live and work there.

On this walk, I found construction workers working on a house, a narrow trail disappearing through the trees, a bee buried in a bright yellow flower, a creek running through the ravine, an artist painting beside the water and a group of ducks enjoying the creek.

None of these subjects required a plane ticket or even a long drive. They were simply things happening locally that day.

Your neighbourhood becomes your classroom

When you photograph locally, you can return to the same places again and again. That's important because photography isn't just about finding spectacular subjects. It's about learning how to see ordinary things differently.

A creek might look completely different after a heavy rain. A neighbourhood changes as houses are renovated and businesses come and go. Flowers appear and disappear with the seasons. The light on a familiar street can make a photograph at 8:00 in the morning that wasn't there at noon.

Even the people change. One day there might be nobody beside the creek. Another day you discover an artist with an easel painting the same landscape you're photographing.

That is when local photography becomes more than taking pictures. You begin documenting the place where you live.

Localism makes you a better photographer

Photographing close to home also gives you permission to experiment. There isn't the pressure of thinking, "I'm only here once, so I'd better get the shot."

You can try a different lens. Get closer. Get lower. Photograph the same subject from another angle. Try macro photography with a bee on a flower. Work on landscapes beside the creek. Practise street photography when you encounter people working in the neighbourhood.

And when something doesn't work, you can come back tomorrow.

That's a tremendous advantage.

After enough walks, you also start noticing things that other people walk past. You learn where the trails go, where the wildlife gathers, where interesting people work and where the light is best at different times of day.

Local knowledge becomes a photographic skill.

I've spent years discovering Toronto this way. The more I walk with a camera, the more I realize that I'll probably never finish photographing it.

So if you're wondering how to improve your photography, here's my suggestion:

Put a camera around your neck, walk out your front door and photograph what is local.

Don't worry about finding an amazing photograph.

Learn to recognize the amazing photographs that were already there.

 

I Built a Tripod for My Cell Phone

Anyone who knows me knows that I am always looking for another way to hold a camera. I have tripods, my Platypod Ultra, and all kinds of little pieces of camera gear. Now I have come up with something new — I made a little tripod system for my cell phone.

The idea started with two simple pieces of equipment: a metal cell-phone holder and a SmallRig clamp with a small ball head. Put them together and suddenly I have a very small, very portable camera support.

The phone holder gives me a good solid grip on my cell phone, while the SmallRig clamp lets me attach the whole setup to things around me. Instead of carrying a regular three-legged tripod, I can clamp my phone onto a railing, table, post, fence or another solid object and position the phone with the ball head.

For me, this is really another version of my Platypod philosophy: why carry a big tripod when something tiny can do the job?

It should be especially useful when I am walking around Toronto. If I want a steady photo, a group shot, a long exposure or even some video, I can pull this little setup out of my camera bag and have my phone mounted in a minute.

And then there are the places with the Tripod Police.

We have all been there. You walk into a building with a regular tripod and suddenly somebody is telling you, “No tripods allowed.” Well, my new cell-phone tripod doesn't have three legs. In fact, it doesn't have any legs!

I can just smile and say, “Tripod? What tripod?”

After all these years of photography, I am still finding new ways of doing things. Sometimes the most useful piece of camera equipment isn't the biggest or most expensive. Sometimes it's just two little pieces of metal screwed together in the right way.

Another homemade addition to Bob's camera bag — and another weapon in the never-ending battle with the Tripod Police! 

Beating the Tripod Police with My Platypod Ultra

Anyone who likes taking photographs inside museums, historic buildings, train stations, churches, or other public buildings has probably encountered them — the Tripod Police.

You walk through the door carrying a regular tripod and suddenly somebody is telling you, “Sorry, no tripods allowed.”

I understand why. A full-size tripod takes up space, creates a tripping hazard, and can get in everybody’s way. But sometimes I want a steady camera for a photograph inside a dark building without pushing the ISO through the roof.

So I’m going to start carrying my Platypod Ultra again.

The Platypod is basically a tripod without the legs. It is a small, flat metal plate that fits easily into my camera bag. I can attach a small ball head, mount one of my Sony cameras on it, and put it on the floor, a bench, a table, a railing, or another safe flat surface.

That opens up some interesting possibilities for my photography.

Instead of standing at normal eye level, I can put the Platypod right down on the floor and get those really low-angle photographs that I enjoy making. Inside a big building, that low viewpoint can make columns, staircases, ceilings and people walking through the scene look completely different.

And because the camera is supported, I can experiment with slower shutter speeds. People walking through the building can become slightly blurred while the architecture stays sharp. That can turn an ordinary interior photograph into something that shows movement and life.

Best of all, the whole setup is small enough that I'm not walking around with three tripod legs spread across the floor.

Of course, if a building's rules prohibit all camera supports, the Platypod stays in the bag. But when the rule is about full-sized tripods blocking walkways, this little piece of equipment can be a very useful alternative.

Sometimes you don't need a newer camera or another expensive lens to change your photography.

Sometimes you just need to put the camera six inches off the floor and see the building from a completely different point of view.

And if the Tripod Police come looking for three legs?

Good luck. Mine doesn't have any. 

 

From Lake Huron to Lake Erie — A Camera, a Campsite and a Lot of Ontario

Over the years, I have stayed in provincial parks all across Ontario. I have camped along the shores of Lake Huron, travelled down to the shores of Lake Erie, stayed in parks along the Ottawa River, and headed north as far as Chapleau.

Wherever I went, my camera went with me.

I photographed old log buildings tucked into the forest, quiet wetlands under heavy skies, lakes stretching toward the horizon, sunlight breaking through the trees, people paddling across calm water, rocky shorelines and storms rolling in. Sometimes I photographed in colour, and sometimes I switched to black and white because it seemed to tell the story better.

The provincial parks gave me something different from my Toronto street photography. In Toronto I am usually watching people, buildings, laneways and everything happening around me. Camping forced me to slow down. A lake isn't going anywhere. A tree isn't going to complain because I took too long setting up the shot. And if the light isn't right, there is always tomorrow morning.

Looking back at these photographs, I realized something else.

I have travelled across a pretty big piece of Ontario with my cameras, yet I was never invited to a camera club to show my provincial park photographs.

That's kind of funny when you think about it.

Camera clubs spend a lot of time talking about landscape photography—composition, light, reflections, clouds, leading lines, black and white, wide-angle views and getting out to interesting locations. Meanwhile, I have been doing exactly that while sleeping in a tent or trailer and cooking dinner at a campsite.

Maybe my photographs aren't the traditional "perfect landscape" photographs. That's okay with me.

I wasn't travelling around Ontario just to collect award-winning photographs. I was photographing where I had been. The pictures became a visual diary of my camping trips and of Ontario itself.

From the Great Lakes to the Ottawa River and north toward Chapleau, every park looked a little different. Put all those photographs together and they tell a much bigger story than any single picture can.

And maybe that's the presentation I'd give if a camera club ever did invite me.

I'd call it:

“Ontario Through Bob’s Camera — From the Shores of Lake Erie to Lake Huron, the Ottawa River and North to Chapleau.”

I already have the photographs.

I'm just waiting for the invitation.

 

Getting Down Low in Toronto

One thing I have learned after years of photo walking around Toronto is that sometimes the best way to find a new photograph is to change my point of view. This time, I’m going right down to ground level.

My setup is my Sony a5000 with the little Sony 16mm f/2.8 pancake lens. What makes this setup especially fun is that I have two different converters that fit onto the 16mm lens — my Sony fisheye converter and my Sony wide-angle converter.

Depending on what I find on the streets of Toronto, I can switch between them and get two completely different looks.

The other important part of my experiment is my Platypod Ultra. Instead of carrying a regular tripod, I can mount my Sony a5000 on the Platypod and put the camera just a few inches off the sidewalk.

Suddenly Toronto looks completely different.

Two Converters, Two Ways of Seeing Toronto

The wide-angle converter is going to be great when I want a really wide view of the street while keeping things looking fairly natural. I can photograph buildings, laneways, streetcar tracks and sidewalks from an angle we normally don't see.

Then I can put on the fisheye converter when I want to have some fun.

The fisheye exaggerates everything. Put something close to the camera and it can become huge while the rest of Toronto seems to wrap around it.

A fire hydrant could look enormous. Streetcar tracks could curve through the picture. A bicycle wheel could tower over the camera. Even a simple manhole cover could become the main subject of the photograph.

Instead of trying to eliminate the fisheye distortion, I'm going to use it as part of the photograph.

The a5000 Has the Perfect Screen for This

One of the reasons my Sony a5000 is perfect for this project is its tilting LCD screen.

When the camera is sitting almost flat on the sidewalk on my Platypod, I don't have to lie down on the ground to see what I'm photographing. I can tilt the screen up, look down and compose my shot.

I can even set up the photograph and wait for somebody to walk into the right place.

It becomes a little photographic trap.

Photographing the Toronto We Walk Over

I'm going to start looking for the things we normally walk right past: streetcar rails, manhole covers, puddles, painted road markings, curbs, construction equipment, bicycles, old lane ways, interesting shadows and anything else that might look completely different from ground level.

After years of photographing Toronto, this gives me another way of exploring the same city.

That's also why I still enjoy using cameras like my Sony a5000. I don't always need a new camera to come up with a new photography project.

Sometimes I just need my Sony a5000, 16mm f/2.8 lens, fisheye converter, wide-angle converter and Platypod Ultra.

Put the camera on the ground, flip up the screen and see what Toronto looks like from down there.

Same Toronto. Same Bob. Two converters. A completely different point of view.

And there's still one very important rule:

Before I walk away, make sure my Sony a5000 isn't still sitting in the middle of the sidewalk! 

 

Bob's 1860's Fan Expo

On Saturday, Bob headed down to Fan Expo in Toronto with his camera, expecting to photograph superheroes, wizards, video-game characters, and some of the most creative costumes you can find anywhere in the city.

But this year Bob decided to try something different.

Instead of making his Fan Expo photos look bright, colourful, and modern, Bob decided to send everyone back about 150 years.

Fan Expo Meets the Tintype

Bob has always liked experimenting with photography, and after looking at his pictures from Saturday, he wondered what these modern-day cos players would look like if they had walked into a photographer's studio in the 1800's.

So Bob started turning his Fan Expo portraits into tintype-style photographs.

The colour disappeared. The backgrounds were simplified and blended away. In their place came sepia and dark metallic tones, scratches, faded edges, uneven textures and those wonderful imperfections that make an old photograph look as though it has survived for generations.

Suddenly, Fan Expo looked very different.

A colourful fantasy character looked like someone photographed in 1870. A wizard carrying a staff looked completely at home in an antique photograph. Elaborate costumes started looking like clothing from some strange alternative Victorian world.

Even the fellow wearing the eBay wizard hat looked like he might have been selling things online during the American Civil War — although Bob is fairly certain the Wi-Fi wasn't very good in 1865.

The Costumes Were Perfect for It

What surprised Bob was just how well cosplay works with the tintype look.

Fan Expo costumes are filled with interesting fabrics, hats, armour, masks, capes, hairstyles and props. When you remove the colour, you begin noticing all those details differently.

Instead of the colour grabbing your attention, you notice the person's expression. You notice the texture of the clothing. You notice the shape of a helmet, the folds in a cape or the details in a handmade costume.

Some of Bob's photographs almost stopped looking like Fan Expo photographs altogether.

They began looking like portraits discovered in an old box in somebody's attic.

Of course, finding a 150-year-old photograph of a fantasy warrior, an anime character or a mysterious masked creature would probably raise a few historical questions.

Old Photography Meets New Photography

There is something funny about using today's technology to imitate one of photography's oldest processes.

Real tintype photography required a metal plate, chemicals, careful preparation and a photographer who really knew what they were doing. Bob just needed his digital camera, his photographs and modern editing tools.

But the idea behind both is still very similar.

You find an interesting person, you put a camera in front of them, and you try to make a portrait that people will want to look at.

That's what Bob enjoys most about photographing events like Fan Expo.

The costumes are great, but it is still the people inside the costumes who make the photographs.

Bob's 1860s Fan Expo

By the time Bob finished working on the pictures, Saturday's trip to Fan Expo had become something completely different.

It wasn't quite Toronto in 2026 anymore.

It was more like Fan Expo Toronto — 1866 Edition.

Looking through the finished photographs, Bob could imagine an old photographer standing behind a giant wooden camera saying:

"Please remain perfectly still, Mr. Wizard. This exposure may take several minutes."

For Bob, that's part of the fun of photography. You can photograph something one way and then discover an entirely different story hiding inside the same picture.

Saturday Bob went to Fan Expo with a digital camera.

He came home with photographs that looked like they had been sitting in a Toronto family album for more than a century.

Not bad for a Saturday photo walk — and Bob didn't even have to carry around a box of glass plates and dangerous chemicals.

 

Bob’s Search for the Perfect Root Beer Float in Southampton

When Bob goes camping, there are a few things he expects: fresh air, a camera close at hand, a good walk through town—and, apparently, a root beer float.

While camping near Southampton, Ontario, Bob decided to head into town for a little exploring. It was one of those beautiful summer days with a deep blue sky, perfect for wandering around with a camera and seeing what Southampton had to offer.

Of course, Bob being Bob, the trip quickly turned into a photo walk.

He photographed the old brick buildings downtown, including the Walker House, people crossing the street, an old classic car cruising through town, and some of Southampton's beautiful older homes. One house even had a pair of bright blue decorative bicycles sitting under the trees. That is exactly the sort of little detail Bob likes finding when he's walking with his camera.

Eventually the walk took him toward the beach and the blue waters of Lake Huron. Southampton certainly wasn't making it difficult to find photographs.

But there was still one important mission.

Bob wanted a root beer float.

After walking around town in the summer sunshine, a big cold glass of root beer with a scoop of vanilla ice cream floating on top sounded pretty good. Bob started looking around, convinced that somewhere in a summer beach town there had to be a root beer float waiting for him.

Apparently not.

Bob searched, but the great Southampton root beer float remained elusive.

So Bob did what every experienced camper and photographer eventually learns to do: adapt to the situation.

He settled for a lemonade.

It wasn't the root beer float he had imagined, but on a warm summer day after walking around Southampton taking photographs, a cold lemonade wasn't exactly a hardship.

And maybe that is what these little camping trips are really about. You head out looking for one thing and discover a bunch of other things along the way. Bob didn't find his root beer float, but he found old buildings, interesting streets, a classic car, beautiful houses, a quiet beach and another collection of photographs to bring home.

The lemonade disappeared pretty quickly.

But the search for the root beer float?

That mission isn't over yet.

There is always the next camping trip.  

Bob’s Camping Adventures: Waiting for the Storm at MacGregor Point

One of the things Bob loves about camping is that you never really know what kind of day Mother Nature is going to give you.

On this camping trip to MacGregor Point Provincial Park, Bob headed down to the beach expecting to spend some time beside Lake Huron, take a few photographs and enjoy the scenery. Instead, he discovered something much more interesting coming across the lake.

A storm was on its way.

The sky over Lake Huron was incredible. A huge wall of dark blue-grey clouds stretched from one side of the horizon to the other. Above it were lighter clouds, while below it the lake remained surprisingly calm. It almost looked as though someone had drawn a line across the sky.

Most people probably see clouds like these and think, Maybe it's time to head back to the campsite.

Bob thinks, This could make some great photos.

So Bob sat at the beach and waited.

There is something special about watching a storm approach across a big body of water. You can see the weather coming long before it reaches you. There are no buildings blocking the view and no busy Toronto streets competing for your attention. There is just the rocky shoreline, the water and that enormous sky.

And Bob had his camera.

As he waited, Bob walked around the beach photographing the storm from different positions. The rocks, driftwood and plants along the shoreline gave each picture a different foreground, but the star of every photograph was that sky.

One photograph even included another person standing alone on the rocky beach looking toward the water. That tiny figure really shows just how enormous the approaching weather system appeared.

Sometimes the Best Camping Weather Is Bad Weather

Sunny days are wonderful for camping, but they aren't always the most interesting days for photography.

A storm changes everything.

The colour of the lake changes. The light becomes softer. The clouds develop layers and texture. Ordinary rocks and driftwood suddenly become part of a much more dramatic landscape.

Bob has spent years walking around Toronto looking for interesting moments to photograph. Camping gives him the chance to do exactly the same thing somewhere completely different. Instead of streetcars, laneways and people on city streets, Bob can photograph beaches, forests, rocks, water and weather.

The idea is still the same:

Go for a walk, carry a camera and see what happens.

Sitting and Waiting

Photography can sometimes be about patience.

You don't always have to chase the photograph.

Sometimes you find the right place, sit down and let the photograph come to you.

That was Bob's afternoon at MacGregor Point. Sitting beside Lake Huron, watching the dark clouds slowly build across the horizon and wondering exactly when the storm was finally going to arrive.

There are certainly worse ways to spend a camping afternoon.

Of course, there is one important part of storm photography that Bob remembers:

Take the pictures while the storm is over the lake — and know when it's time to get back to the campsite!

Another camping trip, another photo walk, and another reminder that some of the best photographs happen when the weather doesn't cooperate.

Bob wasn't waiting for the storm to go away. He was waiting for the storm to become a photograph.