Non-aristotlelian Canon

Michael Sedano

I languished through the summer of 1969, broke, optimistic, and bored. But I can't show you pictures because, even at PX prices, I couldn't afford a camera. A married G.I. in that time, I was paid $120.00 a month.

When I got promoted to Specialist Fourth Class, I spent my entire E-4 pay, $150.00, to buy my first 35mm single lens reflex mechanical marvel, a Topcon Re Super. The only camera in the PX that day.

Talk about a marvel of engineering and materials. The Topcon continued to operate in the coldest days on top of the mountain whereas my friends' devices froze. My warmest Topcon memory takes me to a tortuous ride hanging onto the driver's side of a speeding deuce and a half, the Topcon penduluming at the end of my neck from the air to the side of the truck with a hearty thu-thunk!

It was me or that camera and I chose life. And never again would I ride outside a deuce and a half.

The story of the indestructible Topcon arises from the ka-chunk sound of an expensive Canon camera landing in thick gravel. Gravel like that well-cushions a car tire or a person's step. The camera did not survive the cushioning gravel.

Ave atque vale Canon SL3. 

Here is a gallery of the replacement device, a Canon EOS 6D Mark II, with the Canon Macro Lens EF 100mm f/2.8. The camera body has many whistles and bells and a 206 page manual. It will work wonders since it is a wonderful device.

I am most excited to own that fast macro lens. The optic's the thing wherein to capture the magnificence of a summer day in San Marino, California's Huntington Library.

¡Mira nomás!

Buddleia plants, known as "butterfly bush", live up to their name, drawing Monarchs that latch onto a flower stem for minutes at a feeding. 

Winged creatures captured in mid-flight offer a photographer and the equipment an energizing challenge. The moment the photographer spots the flying beauty, anticipation builds behind the oft-rewarded hope the beast will land, and land within the lens' optimal range of a few feet.

A macro lens focuses on tiny objects. My new used macro lens focuses on objects as close as eleven inches. The camera sensor sees moving objects as focus targets. The body operates tiny motors in the lens snapping an incoming fuzzy spot into sharp focus disclosing a native bee floating into a California native Mallow.

This is a wonder foto! That elusive bee in air, with a flower, puro marvelous, gente.

Light extremes illustrate a camera sensor's ability to capture what the brain sees. Here a white Lavender flower offers sharp contrast to a black Skipper. A bit of manipulation with software will bring out the rich detail in the black carapace.

 The camera captures detail in the bright yellow Acacia flowers and detail in the deep black Carpenter Bee. The wings glow with near-perfect exposure. The photographer exults in the airborne instant and thinks, next time, closer and more wings.

Is This A Marine Blue Butterfly

Capturing winged creatures on the wing remains a singularly elusive goal when the object is the Marine Blue Butterfly. Getting a basking wing-spread photograph required five years of walking and seeking (link). The flight habit of the creature--it flits erratically and dips and lifts away at random-- makes capturing one in mid-air an impossibility of serendipity.

Back in 2022, La Bloga shared some of the first clear photographs I captured of the Marine Blue. It was the third year I'd been going to the garden in search of this soul.

 

Closed-winged Marine Blues challenge their name. Why is that rather plain grey-tan butterfly called a "blue" anything? The basking creature spreads its wings revealing its name, a deep blue carapace and abdomen, and a blue sheen to golden-maroon wings.

I had no idea how gorgeous this butterfly grows until I took the new used camera to the Huntington recently. I spotted a single white blip floating near a Mallow. My heart skips a beat when the white speck approaches my stationary eyes, turns away from me, spirals into the thicket of branches.

The butterfly stops and immediately spreads its wings. This creature has bright orange bands where in the past I've seen orange spots.

Incredible color fills my camera viewfinder. Blue is such an understatement.

The question arises, given the color richness of this specimen, is this a Marine Blue?

The Marine Blue turns 360º to allow the photographer to take fotos to his heart's content. Should the creature lift off, the photographer hopes to react in time to catch the butterfly flying.

In the open shadow light of the Mallow bush, the golden maroon wings have a deep blue-maroon hue and the orange banding is dramatically prominent. Could this be a seasonal appearance, a male, a different species? 

Sabes que? Whatever species this tiny soul turns out to be, I am fortunate indeed to have met it in the garden with the new used camera and lens.

If you'd enjoy photographing the Marine Blue Butterfly, look for white blips fluttering frenetically close to the ground and bush-tops of flowering plants. Stand and fix eyes on one or two white blips and when one lands, slowly approach. As soon as the camera sees the critter, take a foto. That might be the sole exposure of the creature that visit. Get closer, crawling helps, hold your breath. Push the button.