In January, I embarked on my largest, most personal assignment to date. A year ago in May, I pitched a book concept to the long-suffering man that is now my editor. I told him I had a great idea for a book and to my horror he sent me a contract and told me to go write it. A year later, I am writing this with one eye on the street outside, waiting for the FedEx guy to drop off the first copy of the book, fresh from the press. By the time you read this it'll be out in the world, defenseless and scared.

Within The Frame, The Journey of Photographic Vision, is a book about finding and expressing your vision, particularly where people, places, and cultures are concerned. It could easily be confused with a book about so-called "travel photography," but it isn't. At its heart, there's the iconoclastic notion that there is no such thing as "travel photography," that expressing it in those terms places the emphasis on traveling, and I'm pretty sure there are better ways to describe our images than that we got on a plane to take them. The point, to my way of thinking is the creation of compelling images of the people, places, and cultures we encounter; whether that's literally around the corner in my hometown or around the world doesn't seem particularly relevant. But as the places that move me and inspire me are more often on the other side of the world, it made sense for me to take a trip for the express purpose of gathering images for the book to add to images I already had. I wanted a book with aesthetic cohesion and unified vision, so off we set, one of my best friends and I.

We covered five countries in five weeks. From Vancouver to Cuba to Egypt to Nepal to Thailand to Vietnam, through San Francisco and home on an around-the-world ticket that put us on 13 flights in total. We had a maximum of six days in any one location, and in the case of Thailand, we had two days. It was a grueling schedule made harder by the fact that I embarked on it before fully recovering from an assignment for World Vision in Kenya, and after the trip, went almost straight into an assignment in Bangladesh. Still, it was an unforgettable journey, and in the spirit of full disclosure and in the pattern of previous On Assignment articles, here are a few of my lessons re-learned.

1. Planning is key.
Given the tight itinerary, and the ludicrous thought that you can even scratch the surface of a place in five or six days, it was important we didn't spend unnecessary time digging about for accommodations or going to landmarks that failed to inspire or connect with us. So I did a lot of research. I asked a lot of photographers about destinations, pitfalls, and out-of-the-way kinds of places. I read a lot of Lonely Planet descriptions, and spent a lot of time on Google Earth. Those were the logistics and for this assignment, it was critical. Knowing I had a guide in Vietnam who'd orchestrated hotels, train tickets, and a ride from the airport meant my creative energies weren't spent solving unnecessary problems.

2. A shot list is vital.
But it just might kill you. I had a really extensive shot list. A wish-list of the kinds of images I needed. Some of those were just holes in my collection that needed filling. Others were specific shots needed for illustration. I had lists of shots with different lenses, from different angles, and with different settings. I needed night shots, day-time shots, and shots taken at dusk and dawn. I needed shots representing major forms of culture, and shots reflecting the candid, mundane moments of quotidian life. This list guaranteed the success of the project; but it almost nearly drove me mad. I lay awake at night in the early days of the trip, not out of jet-lag but fear - would I get the shots, would they materialize? It's one thing to know you need some great photographs of Islamic faith life, another to get them while also looking to document other aspects of life on the streets in Islamic Cairo, and all the while knowing you had five solid days to do it. This kind of stress can kill your creativity. So I learned to tend to my creativity. I eased up a little. I stopped for a cup of tea more frequently. I allowed myself a sleep-in once in a while. I crossed things off my list - things I thought should be in the book but about which I was completely dispassionate. Being your own client has its advantages.

3. Carrying your cameras everywhere is a pain in the neck.
But leaving them behind in the guesthouse is even worse. I did this a couple times, tired and needing a break, and always wished I hadn't. By all means, take a break, but if bring the camera all the same. The small voice in your head nagging you to take it anyways, and to bring your tripod while you're at it, is the voice of sanity and the more tired I am the more I need to listen to that voice - and the more I fight it.

4. Being prepared is your only defense against the unexpected and serendipitous.
You leave the guest house for a quick walk, planning to be out for an hour before breakfast, The day you leave without extra batteries, extra Lexar CF cards, and that wide-angle lens, is the day you'll run across a celebration that captivates you, fills your CF card, and drains your battery. I have a modular Think Tank Skins pouch that came with me - without exception - if my camera was on my shoulder. It had a couple extra cards, a couple extra batteries, some granola bars, and room for a 17-40/4.0 lens, as well as my passport and cash. If I used flash more than I might throw in a Speedlight with fresh batteries and gels too. The nice thing about a pouch like this is that it's no extra weight on your shoulders - throw it on a belt and it's always there. One more thing I've done and many times been grateful for is an on-camera trick made possible by Canon cameras with a vertical battery grip. On the inside on the grip there's a small slot designed to carry the compartment cover you need to remove in order to install the grip. Nice idea, but if you're comfortable storing that cover elsewhere the resulting space fits a Lexar CF card perfectly (see image). Each of my bodies has an extra 8GB card stored like this so I'm always ready if I shoot more than I expected to or accidentally head out the door with a full card in the slot.

5. Constant evaluation keeps you on track.
Each night, I'd look at the photographs I'd created that day. I'd look at them critically, compare them against my shot list, and then ask myself this important question: What did I shoot today that I can shoot better tomorrow? Maybe you got some nice shot of worshippers in candlelight, but could they be better? Sometimes good is the enemy of great. Could I go earlier or stay later? What would a gelled strobe do in this light? Would a different angle, or different lens work better? Perhaps it's as simple as going back and shooting with a wider lens or a wider aperture. Whatever it is, if you constantly seek to refine your images and you have the chance to go back and re-shoot, do it. Joe McNally says do your re-shoot now, by which he means take your time and shoot the heck out of your subject. Sometimes the moment gets the best of you and a few hours to bring back some objectivity is really helpful. Don't settle for okay if a couple more hours the next day might give you something truly great.

6. Lighten Up. This may be the greatest lesson this journey taught me. I'll have to learn it with every trip, I always do, but I think it'll come back to me sooner now. There was so much that could go wrong, so much that was out of my hands, that at a certain point I had the choice to stress about it all, or give in to the tide of these events and let it carry me where it would. There would be things on the impossible shot list that I never captured, but there would also be images captured that I never imagined. Better images. Truer images. Lightening up and letting go allowed me to see things as the place wanted them seen rather than simply seeing them as I expected. It brought a measure of receptivity, and if there's one thing that will change your photography of people and places, it's receptivity - an openness to seeing beyond your shot lists and expectations and seeing the place as it is; encountering a place and allowing your images to come out of that encounter

Within The Frame, The Journey of Photographic Vision, with a Forward by Joe McNally and an Afterword by Vincent Versace, is available at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, or at your favorite bookmonger.

David Duchemin Bio