Five Field Tips to Make Night Photography Go a Little Smoother

We’ve said night photography is fun. We’ve never said it’s easy.

We all encounter challenges that we need to overcome in order to get the shot. This is true even when working with other night photographers, but it’s especially true when we’re shooting alone.

Every photographer has their solutions to these little (or sometimes big) problems, which help us be more productive in the field at night. Below, each of the five National Parks at Night instructors offers one tip to work just a little smoother, a little better, a little more efficiently in the dark.

Lay Your Flashlight in Your Light Painting Spot

by Gabriel Biderman

When I first started light painting I was incredibly frustrated with the inconsistencies of my painting from shot to shot. The problem was that I would try a lighting strategy, then walk back to the camera to see how I did, then walk back out into the scene and try again—always from a slightly different spot! Why? Because it was dark and I couldn’t see exactly where I’d been standing before. That meant that the angle and distance would change as I went back and forth between my camera and my approximate painting location.

The first solution I came up with was marking my spot in the dirt or putting a rock there, so I’d know where I’d been standing. However, there aren’t rocks or etchable dirt at every location, and again, it was dark, so the mark could be hard to find.

Eventually I realized that there was another good marker that I always have with me: a flashlight. Now when I’m done testing some light painting, I place my flashlight on the ground at my feet, and my spot is easy to find again!

When working on this image in Cape Hatteras National Seashore, I put my flashlight on the ground to mark the spot I was light painting from, so I could easily return after checking the image on the camera’s LCD. You can see the beam shining along the grass from where it was laying.

Of course, this works only if my spot is not in the frame, otherwise the camera will record the flashlight during the rest of the exposure. Also, if the exposure is still running, then I make sure to put the flashlight on the ground facing away from the scene, so as not to spill in more light than I want.

Now I can always find my exact place to repeat the lighting process after reviewing my image. This has been incredibly helpful when I am photographing alone and has helped me nail my light painting more quickly and more efficiently.

Set Up a Custom Menu

by Tim Cooper

As we all know, night photography can pose many challenges. For this reason it’s important to eliminate as many issues as we can so we can focus our efforts on the actual photography. One challenge to overcome is working with our camera in the dark. By being very familiar with our camera’s controls, we can easily make adjustments, focus and shoot without the constant need for turning on our flashlights or fumbling around while wasting otherwise productive time.

That’s easy enough (with practice) when we’re talking about buttons and dials—the controls that are on the camera body. But many features live deep in the camera’s menu system. Scouring the extensive menus for a particular function while in the field can be frustrating. It’s also avoidable.

I save a lot of time in the field by setting up a custom menu in my camera. Most modern cameras allow this, specifically so you can collect your most oft-used functions into one easily accessible place. In the following video, I’ll show you how to do just that!

Use a Low-Powered Light For Seeing

by Lance Keimig

If you’ve been on a workshop with me, you might have been gently chastised for using your 2 million-lumen flashlight to adjust your camera settings. Overly bright flashlights wipe out your hard-won night vision, making it difficult to visualize your surroundings without the light. And in a workshop environment, using a flashlight that’s brighter than necessary often causes unwanted light pollution in other people’s images.

Red lights cause similar but often more serious problems, because even at very low levels they bleed profusely into the shadow areas of everyone’s images. Red lights also diminish depth perception, making accidents much more likely on uneven ground, especially in red-rock environments.

To avoid all these issues, I use a flashlight in the field as little as possible (except for when light painting), and when I do, I use the dimmest in my arsenal. That way I can get a little extra light in extra-dark situations without ruining my night vision or other people’s photographs.

Using a bright flashlight (left) just to check camera settings is overkill—it will ruin your night vision, not to mention the exposures of others who may be working around you. A lower-powered light (right) is a more subtle option that is less likely to cause unintended consequences.

My favorite for this purpose is the Coast G9, which Coast has been gifting to our domestic workshop attendees for the past couple of years. This small and relatively dim flashlight can be easily dimmed even further by removing the head and placing a couple of layers of tissue or toilet paper in front of the bulb. (If you want to get fancy and warm up the color temperature, add a piece of CTO or warming gel at the same time.)

This 2-minute hack will provide you with a light that will be just bright enough to navigate a dark path, to find that spare battery in your camera bag, or anything else that requires just a touch of illumination.

Protect Yourself and Your Bag With a Blanket

by Matt Hill

One thing I’ve found I just couldn’t live without is something I didn’t even buy for myself. I didn’t know how much I needed it until after I received it as a gift! (Thanks, D&E!) I’m referring to the Matador Pocket Blanket.

Sometimes the ground is … well, dirty. And during a long exposure I might want to just stretch out and gaze lovingly at the stars. Or I might even want to—gasp!—put down my camera bag without getting it muddy or sandy. This super-thin blanket packs to 4-by-3 inches, so stowing it in my bag is easy, yet it unfolds to a surprising 63-by-44. I can use the hidden corner stakes to anchor it in place, and when it’s time to fold the blanket, a stitched line pattern reminds me of the perfect way to make it tiny once again.

I love this blanket so much that when I misplaced it, I bought another. And then I found the original. So now I have two. Which makes me twice as happy.

Use an LED to Find Your Tripod

by Chris Nicholson

A lot of night photography involves long exposures. And not just long exposures, but looooonnnnnnggggg exposures. Leaving the shutter open for an hour or more is not unusual. During those times, I often wander away from the camera, whether to explore, to return to a warm location, or even to shoot with a second setup somewhere else. The problem is that sometimes it’s hard to find that camera again in the dark.

Of course, I could probably locate the camera more often than not by just waving a high-powered flashlight around. But that would likely ruin my exposure (especially if I inadvertently shined the light directly into the lens), not to mention ruin the work of anyone I might be out shooting with.

The solution I use most often is to put a tiny light right on the tripod—something bright enough for me to see in the dark, but not bright enough to affect exposure. And to be safe, I point that light away from the scene.

Even a tiny LED can be seen from pretty far away in the dark, making it easy to find a tripod that’s supporting a long exposure.

What kind of light? I use the flashing LED on my geotracker. It’s a piece of gear I always have with me on a shoot. It usually hangs off my belt loop or my backpack strap. But it also hangs nicely on the hook below my ball head.

Contrary to what a non-night person might assume, that LED is incredibly easy to see in dark conditions. In 2017 I was shooting at the Racetrack Playa in Death Valley National Park. It was way too cold to stay out with the camera during a one-hour exposure, so we walked back to the Jeep—one mile away! Even from there, I could faintly discern that tiny LED flashing in perfect darkness across the flats. Found my camera right away.

Wrapping Up

There you have it—five tips for working just a little easier in the dark!

How about you? What are some hacks that you’ve found useful for making the night photography experience just a little simpler or a little more enjoyable? Feel free to share in the comments below or on our Facebook page.

Chris Nicholson is a partner and workshop leader with National Parks at Night, and author of Photographing National Parks (Sidelight Books, 2015). Learn more about national parks as photography destinations, subscribe to Chris' free e-newsletter, and more at www.PhotographingNationalParks.com.

UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT

How I Got the Shot: Time-Lapse at the Owens Valley Radio Observatory

One of my favorite experiences last year was the Eastern Sierra workshop we ran in California with Rocky Mountain School of Photography. What made this one so extraordinary is that it offered a variety of subjects and ways to interpret the night. Most of us were excited about the surreal “rockscapes” of the Alabama Hills or the ghost town train depot at Laws. But for me? I couldn’t wait to photograph the Owens Valley Radio Observatory (OVRO) in Bishop.

The Location

The Owens Valley Radio Observatory. Nikon Z 6 with a Nikon Z 24-70mm f/4 lens. 15 seconds, f/5.6, ISO 1600.

I’ve been to a few observatories, but to get a close-up look at these huge telescopes was a night photographer’s dream come true.

We had only one night scheduled at OVRO, and I had so many ideas I wanted to explore. Let’s just say I was stressfully excited! Two images I wanted to create were a time-lapse and a 2-hour-plus star trail shot of the telescopes. Unfortunately, as soon as I arrived I noticed that the cloud cover would prevent any long star trails from happening.

However, clouds can work very nicely in a time-lapse, as they are another moving element to capture as part of the scene. After all, time-lapses are all about movement.

Then I saw that the largest of the telescopes—a 40-meter beauty—was actively scanning the skies. Perfect. More movement!

The Shoot

I set up my Nikon Z 6 with a Z 24-70mm f/4 lens a couple of hundred yards away, so that I could include the sky patterns as well as the moving telescope.

However, in my excitement, I made a couple of critical errors with this first attempt. First, I defaulted to my typical vertical camera orientation, which worked for the single frame, but for time-lapse (or any video) you really want horizontal (unless you’re going to view it only on a phone).

Second, I was in a very “single frame” mindset instead of thinking about the many frames it takes to create a time-lapse. My exposures were 2 minutes, f/5.6, ISO 100. The 2 minutes was the issue. With time-lapses, you need a lot of single frames to make the “movie,” which means you generally want shorter (and therefore more) exposures. I didn’t do the time-lapse math prior to setting up my shot.

When creating a time-lapse, you need to work backward a bit. Before shooing, think about how long you want the video to be. For instance, if I wanted to make a 15-second time-lapse using a “normal” video playback of 30 frames per second, then I would have needed 450 frames. With 2-minute exposures, that would take 15 hours of shooting! Shorter exposures (say, from 10 to 30 seconds) are generally better, especially if you will be at a location for only a few hours.

Instead, I ended up with 91 vertical 2-minute images. I assembled them quickly in Photoshop and used a rate of 12.5 frames per second, which gave me a decent 7-second time-lapse that you can see in Figure 1.

Figure 1. My first attempt.

I do like that the longer exposures worked well with the lesser frame rate to slow things down a bit—that really lets you see the motion of the telescope, clouds and car trails.

The Reshoot

As luck would have it, we had another opportunity to photograph at OVRO on this trip. Reshoots are amazing! Given this second chance, I wanted to learn from my mistakes and do a better job.

First, I had to figure out the best horizontal composition. The skies were clear and full of stars. Without the clouds moving through the scene, I composed for a closer look at the main actor, the 40-meter telescope.

Next, I needed to figure out a shorter exposure. The moon was out, so a shutter speed of 8 seconds was definitely attainable. It would take about 800 shots in 2 hours to capture the assets needed to create a 30-second time-lapse. If you need help figuring out the math for a time-lapse, our savvy friends at PhotoPills have a pill for that (Figure 2).

Figure 2. PhotoPills has a calculator for seeing how many frames are needed to create time-lapses of different lengths.

My final exposure was 8 seconds, f/5.6, ISO 1600. I set my Z 6 to Bulb mode, and I set up my Vello Shutterboss II with a 1-second interval between shots. I let it rip for a little over 2 hours, which gave me 835 exposures to work with.

The Post-Production

My video editing skills are definitely basic—I’m really a still photographer, not a videographer. Fortunately in 2017 Adobe added a time-lapse feature to Photoshop, which is software that I’m very comfortable using.

Here’s what I did:

1. I exported my selects from Lightroom as JPGs, making sure my filenames were sequentially numbered—i.e., OVRO_1, OVRO_2, OVRO_3, etc. (There should be no breaks in the numbering.) Under Image Sizing, you want to check the Resize to Fit box and enter either 1920 pixels wide for an HD video or 3,840 pixels wide for 4K. I chose the latter.

2. In the Photoshop menu, I chose File > Open, which opens the dialog we use to get things started (Figure 3). I navigated to the folder of time-lapse JPGs and selected the first one. I checked the Image Sequence box, then pressed Open.

Figure 3.

3. For a frame rate, 30 is considered best practice for digital video. However, you can choose a lower or higher frame rate to slow things down or speed things up. It’s easy to experiment and cook to taste. I chose 24 for this time-lapse.

4. The files were quickly put together as one video layer in Photoshop. I clicked on Window > Timeline to open the timeline bar in Photoshop (Figure 4).

Figure 4.

5. I pressed the space bar on my keyboard to watch the time-lapse play slowly. Typically only one play is required to buffer the video.

6. You can do basic editing like adding music, cross-fades, etc., but I didn’t add any visual bells and whistles, preferring to keep this time-lapse simple.

7. Exporting requires a few key steps. I selected File > Export > Render Video. The Render Video window (Figure 5) is pretty self-explanatory. Name your file, then choose where to save it. You can select a settings preset to suit your needs. The presets are helpful for automatically resizing your video to fit the various formats of YouTube, Vimeo, and Android and Apple Devices. I used Adobe Media Encoder.

Figure 5.

That’s it. A quick and easy way for me to assemble a time-lapse.

As you can see with this second one, the improved frame rate created smoother and more realistic movements within the video.

Figure 6. The final time-lapse.

Wrapping Up

A dark-sky time-lapse is an amazing way to seize the night. I was thrilled with the experience and felt that the OVRO was a perfect subject to really show the passing of time and the search for life beyond the stars!

Like I mentioned before, I’m not a seasoned video guy, so I used Photoshop to tackle this, as it’s software that I’m already comfortable with. But there are other options out there. One in particular I’m excited to delve into is LR/Timelapse, partly because it eliminates some of the steps above by allowing you to go from Lightroom directly into the rendering software. Stayed tuned to our blog for more on that later this year.

Gabriel Biderman is a partner and workshop leader with National Parks at Night. He is a Brooklyn-based fine art and travel photographer, and author of Night Photography: From Snapshots to Great Shots (Peachpit, 2014). During the daytime hours you'll often find Gabe at one of many photo events around the world working for B&H Photo’s road marketing team. See his portfolio and workshop lineup at www.ruinism.com.

UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT

Five Ways That Lightroom’s New Update Eases the Processing of Night Photos

As has been true since the beginning of photography, field work is equally important as what comes after: post-production. Consequently, we always monitor the advancement of both in-field and on-desk tools, and this week there was some good news in the latter category.

On Tuesday, Adobe released an update to Lightroom that contained several interesting changes, including five that will make life easier for night photographers. So below we explore each new feature and setting, looking specifically at how it applies to working with night images.

(Note that these points pertain to Lightroom Classic, which is the version we use—and recommend using—for serious photo editing.)

1. Large-File Support

If you’re into blending exposures, stitching complex panoramas or stacking images—whether for stars, lighthouse beams, light painting or whatever else—then you’ve probably had to deal with the 2 GB size limitation for a PSD, Photoshop’s default file format (Figure 1).

Figure 1. Until now, Photoshop files over 2 GB posed a problem for Lightroom users.

If your image exceeded that limit, you were faced with five primary options, all of which had downsides:

  1. Downsize the resolution (which meant throwing away pixels).

  2. Flatten the layers (thereby limiting the ability to edit the image in the future).

  3. Save as a TIFF (which has a 4 GB limit).

  4. Save as a large-format PSB file (which Lightroom couldn’t see, edit or catalog).

  5. Convert the layers to a Smart Object and save them as a new linked file, then save the whole thing as a TIFF (which is an inelegant, unintuitive process).

Now, with this update, these options are obsolete and the downsides are no longer obstacles. Lightroom now recognizes PSBs, allowing you to import, catalog and edit these files of theoretically unlimited size. (“Theoretically” because there are limitations, but ones that most photographers will never encounter—i.e., 65,000 pixels wide or tall, or 512 total megapixels.)

2. Simpler Visual Matching

Last winter Tim Cooper wrote a blog post titled “How to Make Your Lightroom Rendering Look Like Your Camera Preview.” One of the key points was ensuring that the profile you use in Lightroom’s Develop module matches the profile you use in your camera (i.e., the “Picture Controls” setting for Nikon, “Picture Styles” for Canon, “Picture Profile” for Sony, “Film Simulation” for Fuji, etc.)

For example, I always set my Nikon D5 (or any other Nikon camera I might be using) to “Standard,” so I want to use “Camera Standard” as my Lightroom profile. That used to be a manual step (or semi-manual, depending on how presets were used), but now Lightroom can do it for me by default.

To automate that process, select Edit > Preferences on a PC or Lightroom Classic > Preferences on a Mac, then select the Presets tab, and you’ll find the option at the top under Raw Defaults. Click on the Master drop down to reveal its options (Figure 2):

  1. “Adobe Default,” which is the behavior you’re accustomed to—Lightroom just applying its own Adobe Color profile to the RAW conversion

  2. “Camera Settings,” which uses the same profile/style you indicated in-camera

  3. “Preset,” which uses any Adobe- or user-created Develop preset, which you select in the fly-out menu

Figure 2. Lightroom’s new Raw Defaults let you specify which demosaicing profile is automatically applied when importing images.

For the purpose mentioned above, you want the second option, “Camera Settings” (and be sure to check “Use defaults specific to camera model” for the most precise results). You don’t even need to tell Lightroom which profile to use—it reads the camera setting from the metadata and chooses the appropriate profile for you.

Consistent Black and White Workflow

This feature also comes into play when shooting in black and white with a digital camera, which is an effective strategy for dealing with night scenes that contain too many variations of color temperatures to reign them all in to one exposure (e.g, LED and sodium vapor lights in the same scene)—or for if you just like to work in monochrome.

When using a digital camera to shoot black and white images, we always recommend changing your camera’s picture style to a monochrome setting. This provides an LCD preview in black and white, which helps you visualize how the final image will look more effectively than if you were looking at a color preview.

The problem with this strategy was that Lightroom would still import the RAW file as a color image. You would then need to remember which files you intended to be black-and-white photographs and then change the settings accordingly.

However, now with this new Raw Defaults management, if you set the preference to “Camera Settings,” then images you shoot with an in-camera monochrome picture style will appear as monochrome in Lightroom (Figure 3).

Figure 3. By setting the new Raw Defaults option to “Camera Settings,” images shot in-camera as black and white will now automatically have the corresponding monochrome profile applied on import.

3. Overriding Manufacturer Adjustments

This isn’t new functionality so much as a new interface. It’s also really the second part of the previous feature, but we have a completely separate use for it, so it gets its own heading.

In that same Presets tab in Preferences, below the Master setting, you’ll find the option to apply a specific profile based on which camera you’re importing image files from. Most photographers who use this feature do so because they have specific adjustments they like to make to files from specific types of cameras—for instance, always applying a little extra Vibrance to images from an old backup digital body.

But there’s another, similar use: Overriding the built-in processing adjustments that some manufacturers apply to files from some cameras.

For example: We love the Nikon Z 6, but one challenge is that the files come packaged with baked-in noise reduction settings for Lightroom that we find to be way too aggressive. (Figure 4. You can read more about this in our blog post “The Z 6 is the Best Camera for Night Photography.”)

Figure 4. The aggressive default noise reduction settings packaged in the metadata of Nikon Z 6 files..

The good news is that Lightroom now allows you to more easily take control of this on import, by indicating a specific profile or preset from the same Preferences tab (Figure 5). Simply select the camera model, then select from the same options listed above. Now that profile/preset will be applied to any imported files originating from that type of camera. (You can also apply this setting to specific cameras by serial number, if you need to. For the record, most photographers don’t need to.)

Figure 5. By applying a custom preset in this new interface, we can fix perceived problems with baked-in adjustments from camera manufacturers.

So, using this feature, we can tell Lightroom not to use Nikon’s baked-in noise reduction settings for Z 6 files, but rather to apply a custom preset with the noise reduction approach we deem more appropriate. Gabe likes his Z 6 noise reduction set between 10 and 30 for luminance and color noise, so he could perhaps create a preset for 10 each, apply that to all Z 6 images on import, then tweak each of those settings manually in the Detail panel of the Develop module.

4. Camera Support

Nearly every Lightroom update includes support for new cameras and lenses, and this month’s is no different. One notable addition has us pretty excited.

Figure 6. The Nikon D780.

A few weeks ago we got our hands on a brand new Nikon D780 so we could test it for night photography. (Thank you to B&H Photo! See our review in the coming weeks.) Lance was working with the camera before and during our workshop in Death Valley National Park, but he couldn’t open the files in Lightroom. That was a big obstacle to testing, not to mention that it was an unfortunate fact for any early adopter of the camera.

Now? No problem. The new version of Lightroom (as well as Camera Raw) will open D780 files. (For the record, other companies make cameras too, and Lightroom does support them. Also new to Lightroom are the Canon EOS-1Dx Mark III and the Olympus OM-D E-M1 Mark III, among others.)

5. Auto Sync is Less Dangerous

The Auto Sync feature is very powerful, as it was the easiest way to sync adjustments to multiple photos—such as when applying Dehaze to a few dozen starry-sky images before stacking them. But Auto Sync is also dangerous, because it’s easy to create havoc with. Why? Because it was easy to leave on by accident, leaving you unaware that you could be applying a series of changes to dozens, hundreds or thousands of images—or even, as I did once, to the whole catalog. The danger of this was so palpable that I’ve always hesitated to teach the feature on workshops.

Now Adobe has mitigated the risk with three simple tweaks to Lightroom’s interface:

  1. When you activateAuto Sync, the button now changes appearance to a bright light gray that’s easy to see at the bottom of the Develop module.

  2. When you hover the pointer over the Auto Sync button, a tool tip warns what will happen if you click it.

  3. When you make an auto-synced adjustment, Lightroom now advises that you did so with a message such as “Contrast updated for 190,817 images.” (That’s not a joke. See Figure 7.)

Figure 7. Auto Sync can be dangerous, but powerful. New features mitigate the former.

The software also gives you the ability to disable these new warnings in Preferences. Don’t disable them. Ever.

Wrapping Up

There you have it—five ways to work easier when post-processing night photos, courtesy of Adobe.

Which of these features are you most happy to see implemented? And what features and improvements do you hope to see next? Tell us what you think in the comments section below or on our Facebook page.

Note: Do you want to learn more about post-processing? Sign up for the waitlist for our Post-Processing Intensive workshop in San Francisco, or check out our tutoring services!

Chris Nicholson is a partner and workshop leader with National Parks at Night, and author of Photographing National Parks (Sidelight Books, 2015). Learn more about national parks as photography destinations, subscribe to Chris' free e-newsletter, and more at www.PhotographingNationalParks.com.

UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT

Bombs, Bobbies and an ISO of 2: The Challenges of Early Night Photography

A couple of years ago when Matt referred to this being “The Golden Age of Night Photography,” I wholeheartedly agreed. The amazing technology at our fingertips has made this niche more accessible and popular than ever. But if this is the golden age, then surely what came before was the silver age of night photography.

Before silicon chips, it was tiny silver halide crystals that formed our images when photons of light penetrated our lens apertures to land on film or plate. Photographers who have never experienced shooting film at night have no idea just how easy they have it today.

In this week’s blog post, I reminisce about the trials and tribulations of film-based night photography. I want to share with you some of the struggles and challenges, misadventures and woes of the early night photographer. I believe that we can learn a lot by looking at the images of those who have come before us, and perhaps gain an appreciation of just how good we’ve got it.

Even Daylight Was Hard

Whenever I give a talk on the history of night photography, I always start with the first photograph. In 1826 or ’27, Nicéphore Niépce made an 8-hour exposure on a small copper plate, which resulted in a barely recognizable scene at his farm in France (Figure 1). The materials he had to work with were of such limited sensitivity that recording the image took all day—in bright sunlight.

Figure 1. Joseph Nicéphore Niepce, “View From The Window at Le Gras,” c. 1826-27. After ten years of work that began in 1816, Niepce exposed this image on a pewter plate coated with bitumen of Judea with a camera obscura, an optical device used by artists as a drawing aid. After an exposure of at least 8 hours, Niepce washed the plate with a mixture of white petroleum and oil of lavender, and the result was the first permanent photograph. The image is on permanent display at the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin.

Sadly, Niépce succumbed to the mercury vapors used to develop his plates before he could be credited with inventing photography. That credit would go to his business partner Louis Daguerre, who survived the toxic fumes and had his name immortalized with the first commercially available photographic process.

Daguerreotypes required exposures of a minute or more in sunlight, which would have required exposures longer than the night itself, making night photography impossible (except perhaps in 24-hour darkness at the poles).

Later, Boston-based photographer and inventor John Adams Whipple spent the years 1849 through 1851 trying to photograph the moon through a telescope on a daguerreotype plate. Working at the Harvard observatory, he eventually managed to pull it off (Figure 2).

Figure 2. John Adams Whipple worked for 3 years to make this Daguerréotype of the moon through a telescope at the Harvard University Observatory in 1851. The telescope utilized a tracking device to compensate for the earth’s rotation during the long exposure.

The wet plate collodion process began to replace Daguerréotypes around 1851. These plates had to be coated, exposed and developed before the sticky emulsion dried on the glass or tin plate, which took about 10 minutes. That wasn’t nearly long enough for night exposures back then due to the limited sensitivities of the materials at hand.

The French photographer Nadar found a way to make low-light exposures on wet plates by using burning strips of magnesium wire as a light source to illuminate the scene. In the early 1860s he made a series of photographs under the streets of Paris in the catacombs discovered during the construction of the metro tunnels and sewers (Figure 3). The acrid smoke of the burning magnesium made breathing nearly impossible, but he was able to record images without any ambient light.

Figure 3. Nadar pioneered the use of artificial lighting in photography, and was the first person to photograph below ground, in the Catacombs of Paris in 1862.

Coming Into the Dark

Night photography didn’t become truly viable until the invention of the dry plate process in the late 1870s. There are a few anonymous examples of early astro-photographs, but night photography didn’t take off in earnest until the end of the 19th century.

Victorian photographer Paul Martin was one of the first photographers to have a serious go at night photography. During the course of documenting London street scenes in the late 1890s (Figure 4), he began staying out later and later in the evening, and he discovered that it was actually possible to photograph in the dark.

In addition to the technical challenges he faced, Martin was routinely ridiculed by people telling him that it was impossible to take pictures when there was “no light.” Even the police repeatedly questioned his sanity for attempting such a foolish activity, and they ruined many of his exposures when they approached with their lanterns. Martin soon learned that he could save his hard-won exposures by covering the lens as a policeman approached and then uncovering the lens to finish the exposure once the bobby was satisfied that he was a harmless kook.

Figure 4. Paul Martin, “A Wet Night on the Embankment,” 1895-96. Martin received the Royal Photographic Society's Gold Medal for his series of pioneering night photographs titled “London by Gaslight.”

Martin’s work in London caught the attention of the American photographer Alfred Stieglitz in New York. Stieglitz also became fascinated with trying to record night city scenes, so much so that he defied his family’s orders not to go out and photograph in a snowstorm while he had pneumonia (Figure 5).

Stieglitz wrote in his autobiography:

“One night, it snowed very hard. I gazed through a window, wanting to go forth and photograph. I lay in bed trying to figure out how to leave the house without being detected by either my wife or brother.

“I put on three layers of underwear, two pairs of trousers, two vests, a winter coat, and Tyrolean cape. I tied on my hat, realizing the wind was blowing a gale, and armed with tripod and camera—the latter a primitive box, with 4x5 inch plates—I stole out of the house. … The trees on the park side of the avenue were coated with ice. Where the light struck them, they looked like specters.

“The gale blew from the northwest. Pointing the camera south, sheltering it from the wind, I focused. There was a tree—ice covered, glistening—and the snow covered sidewalk. Nothing comparable had been photographed before, under such conditions.

“My mustache was frozen stiff. My hands were bitter cold in spite of the heavy gloves. The frosty air stung my nose, chin, and ears. … It must have been two o’clock in the morning. … After nearly an hour’s struggle against the wind, I reached home and tiptoed into the house, reaching the third floor without anyone hearing me.

“The next day I went to the camera club to develop the plate. The exposure was perfect.”

Figure 5. Alfred Stieglitz, “An Icy Night,” 1898. Steiglitz made this image on a frigid night during a snowstorm in January 1898 after a bout with pneumonia. Steiglitz was particularly proud of this image, and it cemented his interest in night photography. His influence on art and photography in America was enormous, and he is also largely responsible for night photography taking hold in New York at the turn of the 20th century.

Working With Light-Insensitive Materials

Working with materials that were not very light-sensitive, and with the lower light levels of turn-of-the-century street lights, early night photographers had to do everything they could to gather light for their exposures. Wet pavement reflected much more light than dry, and fog helped to illuminate a scene. Night photography was largely done in inclement weather as much out of necessity as it was for the enhanced mood and atmosphere.

In addition to being less sensitive than today’s digital sensors—can you imagine shooting at ISO 2?—plates and film suffered from reciprocity failure. The longer these materials were exposed, the less sensitive they became. This set up an interesting paradox: The longer the exposure, the longer the exposure––which in turn meant a longer exposure was required.

Figure 6. Edward Steichen, Balzac, “Towards the Light, Midnight,” 1908.

Steiglitz’s great friend and colleague Edward Steichen is credited with making some of the earliest photographs by moonlight at the studio of the French sculptor Auguste Rodin in 1908 (Figure 6). He photographed a series of images of Rodin’s sculpture of Balzac over three nights, experimenting with different techniques in hopes of getting a good exposure.

The resulting images are now considered some of his most important works, but at the time he was accused (mainly by the French) of being a fraud. Their rationale? He must have been faking the images because, as everyone knew, making photographs by moonlight was impossible. Little did they know that only a century later people would be making hand-held exposures of the Milky Way with telephones.

The Ultimate Challenge

Perhaps no one better exemplifies the challenges faced by early night photographers than Margaret Bourke White. One of the few western journalists behind the Iron Curtain during World War II, she was sent to Russia by her editor at Life magazine in 1941, and was the only foreign journalist in Moscow when the German bombers arrived.

Bourke White initially photographed the bombing of Moscow from the roof of the American embassy (Figure 7), because the Russian blackout wardens at her hotel forced everyone underground during the raids. Later she set up multiple cameras on the balcony of her hotel room (which faced the Kremlin and Red Square) when the raids began, then rushed to the underground shelters. After the all-clear was given, she returned to close the shutters and to develop the film in her bathroom. In her autobiography she wrote: “To me, the severity of a raid was determined by whether it was a two camera, a three camera, or a four camera night.”

Figure 7. Margaret Bourke White, “Central Moscow With Antiaircraft Gunners,” 1941. Bourke White was one of the only foreign journalists in Moscow when war broke out between Germany and Russia in 1941.

We Really Have it Pretty Good

Any contemporary night photographer worth their salt has a tale or two of harrowing experiences of being rousted by security or nearly stepping on a rattlesnake, but when it comes to the technical difficulties of making images at night, there’s not much that can compare to what those early pioneers had to contend with.

Posting to Instagram from a lonely peak in a national park doesn’t make for much of a story compared to coating your own glass plates in a portable darkroom and then exposing and developing them on the spot with highly toxic fumes while worrying about being blown to bits by Russian bombers.

Think of these pioneers and remember their images and what they went through to make them the next time you’re out feeling cold or tired during a night photography outing. Keep calm, and carry on.

Lance Keimig is our resident photo historian and cantankerous luddite who still has a darkroom and freezer full of film. He writes the occasional blog series “Muses From The Past” about early night photographers for National Parks at Night. The darkroom is in boxes in his garage, but he still has it. Someday …

UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT