Right, let's get the terrible pun out of the way; low light photography is often seen in a bad light (I'm so, so sorry). Granted, it's generally accepted that it really is something of a pain if there's little to no light to work with, seeing as recording light is the essential process of photography; it's the equivalent of a landscape oil painter blindfolding himself before he starts to paint.
My time with event photography has given me just as many horror stories as everyone else, I'm sure. I won't run through them all, but my favourite was when I went to shoot a band whose "on stage lighting" comprised the L.E.D lights on their mixing desk (you know who you are, young man).
Panic ensued, and I had to ask for a desk lamp and some kitchen foil from the bar. I then proceeded to spread the kitchen foil on their laps and point the lamp at it, creating a very crude reflector. It gave me just enough light to get some dark yet atmospheric shots of the two of them which, thankfully, perfectly fitted the mood of the music.
Despite experiences like this, or maybe even because of experiences like this, I love low-light photography. I mean I don't jump for joy when I turn up to a job in a room plunged into almost complete darkness, but I also don't immediately fear the worst. I stand before you and can confidently say, thanks to a combination of previous experience and my predilection for low key photography, I am not afraid of the dark.
Your archetypal low light situation is a music gig. Low light isn't the only challenge in this environment; most bands have fancy strobes, whirly disco-bits and other such visual ambience to add to the atmosphere of their performance. This is both a blessing and a curse – you have beautiful light shows to accompany that elusive perfect moment but can be in constant danger of overexposing. Pulsating lights, for example, can prove a mighty headache, not to mention the constant changes in colour scheme.
Last year, I had the pleasure of shooting a wonderful band called The Magic Numbers. The performance was wonderful, emotive...and quite dark. Thankfully, a plethora of lighting effects, dry ice and other such bits and bobs were also present, which created an interesting backdrop to work with.
Now you may have heard of the standard requirements of many venues, which has almost become a catchphrase these days – that is "three songs, no flash". In case you're unaware, this pertains to the organiser's request to the photographer – you can shoot three songs, don't use your flash. As tempting as it may be to add exra light to the scene to assist you, I don't actually think flash is particularly useful in helping you get the absolute best images you can. When you fire your flash, depending on the strength / direction etc, the colours in the image are often neutralised, so you end up with a brighter but ultimately less dramatic and interesting image. Learning to work with available light can really help you understand how light works, allowing you to use it to your advantage.
It's always a good idea to get a nice prime lens to shoot with for low light photography. I often use the Canon EF 50mm f/1.8 II - a shockingly inexpensive lens, for a change, that gives fantastic results in low light.
In fact, my prime lens was absolutely essential for my commissioned work at the Royal Albert Hall. I was commissioned to shoot an Imogen Heap gig and, for much of the show, the low light would have been almost impossible to shoot in, especially to shoot a range of images I considered of good enough quality for such a prestigious venue, had I not packed my f/1.8. Here's what you can do with a nice, wide open prime:
So you've got your technique down for shooting gigs and bands in unfavourable lighting conditions. What happens if you have similar lighting conditions yet your subjects are half naked men whizzing around at speed, limbs flailing and bodies flipping? No, I'm not talking about the Red Hot Chili Peppers - this, of course, would be the world of pro wrestling photography. Even if you're not terribly keen on the subject matter, you'll find it's actually rather difficult to shoot well, and can help your photography immensely. And yes, I know I go on about it a bit.
These shots were taken using available light. Again, it's a good idea to shoot RAW for this kind of work, because lighting in most venues tends to have over saturated reds, oranges, greens – anything that's a pain to work with from a photographer's point of view, basically. Always try and get it right in the first place, of course, and don't rely on post-processing to "fix" it. The best situation is when you're using post processing to improve, rather than salvage, your image.
Once again, I avoid using flash in these venues, because wrestling is all about the drama and atmosphere. You can experience this in many ways when you're actually at a show (music, the atmosphere and interaction created by the crowd, in-ring storytelling) but, when recording an image, all you have to work with is the visual. If your image shows a neutrally lit hall, all you're getting is a very dull and amateur looking image of two blokes pulling and pushing at each other. It's a disservice to those working hard in the ring to look good if the resulting images make them look amateurish. Mood is of absolute importance in the creation of nearly any image.
A couple of notes to tie it all together, then – the trick to low light photography is being ready to adapt and react to what you are presented with – no two venues are the same and it's a good idea to get there as early as possible and get your test shots done before anything exciting happens. I always try to focus on and expose for the faces, depending on the shot. Finally, remember, low light conditions may seem like your enemy, but they're actually your friend; they'll force you to better understand how light works and that, dear readers, is no bad thing.
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