It's not that I'm a perfectionist—one look at my output will disabuse any possibility of that being my issue. I welcome mistakes and failures. It's how I figure things out. I have a lot of footage that will never see the light of day. I have, just barely (by my standards) enough of a handle on the medium to charge good money for what I do, but I'm still on the steep pitch of the learning cycle.
Today's piece was one of that series of personal videos I do of music and dance, an arena which is dear to my heart and soul. I used two cameras and separate audio capture. One camera I clamped to a wall brace with a Magic Arm. The other was for all the cutaways.
I have this habit that a lot of still-to-video photographers have, of forgetting that when the video button is on, it's not a still camera. I scan and move way too much, in the way you seek a vantage point when you're looking for the photo. I should have been on a tripod for a lot of this footage, but I couldn't be bothered. I have this fantastic Manfrotto fluid head, self leveling rig on a Gitzo pod, but it's big and heavy and it was a crowded room. I should have brought over my lightweight pod with the ballhead, even though you're not supposed to use a video camera on a ballhead. But it would have been the right choice over the Blair Witch alternative.
In video school they tell you to count to ten on any take. Keep the camera still, let the moment unfold. That is so counter-instinctual to my usual M. O., and I have to face the consequences every time I edit a piece. Facing the consequences is a good argument for being your own editor. It makes you a better videographer.
None the less, I think the feeling comes through, which is the point. Video is so fantastic for communicating feeling, and that's why I keep banging my head against this compelling wall.
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