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Buy the new iPhone Photography eBook and go in the running to win an iPhone 5

Three weeks ago, together with Digital Photography School, I launched the first comprehensive ebook on how to take professional photos with your iPhone.  The ‘iPhone Photography’ eBook has been very well recieved by both beginners and professionals alike.  

To celebrate the success of the new eBook (and the launch of the new iPhone), DPS are giving away an 16GB iPhone 5 to one buyer of the eBook.  The competition runs until October 2, is worldwide and the winner even gets to select the colour of the phone!  What better way to improve your iPhone Photography than getting your hands on the iPhone 5?

iphone 5, iphone photography ebook, phone photography ebook, mobile photo group competitions

Here are a few testimonials that have come through about the ebook:

“Thanks so much – I bought a copy earlier today and have spent the last 4 hours using my iPhone to take photos I’d never have thought possible with it. As I started to read this it became clear to me why I had been getting such average results from my iPhone in the past and how to improve them. Thanks DPS!” – Barbara (blog comment)

“‘iPhone Photography’ is a wonderful and inspiring guide to this revolution in photography. While written so clearly that even a total beginner can quickly learn how to take high quality photos, this eBook is valuable for iPhoneographers of all skill levels. The book shares all of the secrets you need to know in order to make great artistic images using your iPhone and selected camera and photo apps. It inspires you to explore the tools and techniques by actually using them, which is the best method of learning.” – Jens Daemgen – Creator of ProCamera App

“If you’re the owner of either the iPhone 4S or iPhone 4 versions of Apple’s iPhones, this eBook, iPhone Photography – How to shoot, edit and share great photographs, is the right choice for you. It will show you everything from setting up your camera to using the best apps, sharing pictures with the community. And will even teach you photography if you just got interested in the medium through the use of your iPhone.” – Pixiq.com (review)

Feel free to ask us any questions you may have about the book in the Disqus comments below. Otherwise, shoot me a tweet.

Head over to the Digital Photography School site for more information on how to purchase the book and go in the running to win the new iPhone 5.

It’s not about the filters: context, photojournalism and Instagram



Hi everyone, 

I’ve written a new post on the Mobile Photo Group blog about the importance of context when sharing photojournalistic photos on Instagram.  Here is a short excerpt from the post: 

As with all social networks, Instagram users curate their own personal experience. They chose who they follow and how.  Some like cats, some like flowers, some like war reportage, and some like all three on their feed at the same time.

I’d love to know your thoughts on the article. 

Misho

#mobilephotography versus #iphoneography: a hashtag battle.

I’ve been shooting on an iPhone for over two years now.  In that time i’ve gone through a number of hashtags to let people know that my images are taken on a mobile (my motivation for this will be left for another day).  

Over the past six months, I have retired #iphoneography on my posts and started using #mobilephotography.  I did this to open up the terminology of what we do, rather than focus on a particular brand/product. 

I was interested to see which tag was more popular on the net. Using Topsy’s free analytics service I was able to compare today’s mentions for both tags.  I was very suprised to see the massive gap between the two terms.  #iphoneography was mentioned 2,404 over the past 24 hours while #mobilephotography only had 77 mentions.  The diagram below shows the use of both terms by the hour, the visualisation further highlights the gap between the terms. 

What do you guys think? Should I start using #iphoneography again? Or will the term #mobilephotography grow?

mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 
mobilephotogroup: Dream Car By Star Rush “America is a dream / The poet says it was promises /  The people say it is promises—that will come true,”    —Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes) Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises. Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.   A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t. Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 

mobilephotogroup:

Dream Car

By Star Rush

“America is a dream / The poet says it was promises / 

The people say it is promises—that will come true,”   

—Langston Hughes (The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes)

Go! On the move. Rubber. Steel. Chrome. The vehicles that take us to and from our destinations also give us a glimpse into our selves, our past and our cultural, collective, and personal identities. Cars. An Open Road. Freedom. Consumption. Promises.

Taken on the streets of Seattle, this series explores feelings that cars of the 1960s and 1970s evoke in me, an immigrant, of an American past that’s hard to get a handle on. Cars have a close association with America’s cultural mythos of mobility, independence, self-reliance, consumption and the ethos of cool. Jack Kerouac romanticized them as he explicated “the road,” about driving away and watching people on the horizon receding as cars pull away from one place to head to another. But the gaze turns from inside to outside; I’m standing here, watching these cars pull away from me, receding into miles that stretch from such an idealistic vision of wants, of careless highways, dark and starry nights in a mythical west, to an endlessly deferred horizon. It keeps me from looking too closely at the debris and residue between here and there. What fuels this imagining? What sustains the consumption and recycling of past into present?  I’m not sure if I’m nostalgic or sentimental.  

A symbol of the American Dream, a car is a metaphor built of imagination and steel, sculpted forms, the output of manufacturing lines and factories, hot sparks, physical labor, sweaty brows—the design of a dream. Whose dream?  All over Seattle, I find the cars of my own childhood, now there, suddenly parked, at the corner of a street … and they’re here, in another America, today. I’m provoked by the juxtaposition of that scene between what is arriving and what is departing. What am I recovering in these images, these observations of old cars parked on city streets, artifacts from somewhere else that are as far away from me as a fuzzy dream, one I struggle to recall throughout the day and can’t.

Click through and check out Star Rush’s beautiful black and white image of classic american cars taken on the streets of Seattle.  The photo series is exclusive to The Mobile Photo Group. 

(via mobilephotogroup-deactivated201)

Australian iPhoneography Exhibition @ Sydney Apple Store 5:30pm Thu 12 May

Hi Everyone, 

For those of you in Sydney, I, along with six other Australian iPhoneographers will be exhibiting our work at the George Street Apple Store from 5.30pm onwards this Thursday 12 May.  The exhibition is a part of the epic, city-wide Head On Photo Festival. 

Come join Oliver Lang, Lara Holz, Alex Kessalaar, Greg Briggs, Lesley Bourne, Michael Sutton and myself talk about all this iPhoneography.  

I will be doing a live apping demonstration on the night, showing off my Camera + , Photo FX and Photogene skills, I may even throw back to some Hipstamatic.  

Let me know if there are any of my photos you would like to see processed live. Really excited!!

Cheers, 

Misho.