End Blog
One Shot Summary
@2025 by Dave C.

This blog was quite challenging because when I scrolled through months of photos—real and virtual—through my MMS 173 portfolio and phone gallery, it was so hard to choose a single image that would encapsulate all my experiences on my photography class journey. But among the shots I’ve taken, one photo from Warframe piqued my interest:

At first glance, it’s an obvious sci-fi action shot! But for me, it is like a mirror of my MMS 173 journey from being a novice in elements and principles to being intentional with it in storytelling. It was my handling of my phone's camera (real and virtual) to deliberately shoot stories in a frame. So, this photo of a guardian with arm raised like the Statue of Liberty in a worn out ship, isn’t just a virtual character. It’s me, paving hope into the chaos of learning.

This was an image capturing my in-game avatar, a guardian, mid-posed against the light from an infested spaceship. If I would look at it again at a technical standpoint, the composition follows the rule of thirds, with the subject centered against radial lines of light. Low exposure amplifying the drama, while a shallow depth of field blurs the foreground and background, isolating the figure. The pose—reminiscent of the Statue of Liberty—was a lucky but still intended shot, discovered after hours of my experimentation with angles and motion. All of these technical aspects are part of what I learned. If I did not take this class,  it wouldn't even exist, which makes me fall deep in thought regarding how far I've come. 

Then, the guardian’s pose—unplanned—mirrored my own liberation. Early in the course, I struggled with following rules like being too conscious of perfect rule-of-thirds alignment. But this photo’s defiant stance mirrors my shift from compulsive attitude (in taking photos) to having expressive freedom throughout my journey in MMS 173 class. By the trimester’s end, I learned to bend, as in Dutch Angle (One Object), where tilted framing amplified a pawn’s movement or intentionally putting objects off-ly in the rule of thirds alignment in my Landscape Orientation (One Object) can help me pull off what I intend to really capture.

Meanwhile, the ship’s infestation parallels my initial frustration with my phone’s limitation as I experienced with Night Out’s noise at ISO 320, lens quality, or lack of aperture control at the start of this course. While the guardian’s glow behind can signify how the class’s lessons—like mastering exposure triangles—lit my way. It taught me to control light rather than surrender to it (in the past when I see that the camera shows a bad picture I thought, that was it, I need to choose a different location, but no).

And just as the guardian protects the ship, the course taught me to “guard” my creative vision, whether framing a pawn in a mall (Bucketlist) or a bakery’s reflection (Panaderia). Whereas for Sakura (Flower), I ignored passersby staring as I crouched to frame artificial blossoms—a small act of defiance against self-consciousness. I also learned how to communicate not just with my photos but how to communicate and discuss with others their own and my photography.

I enrolled in MMS 173 to conquer my shyness about taking photos and stop being "the awkward friend who takes bad group photos." You can see my early shots (Panaderia, The Mannequin) were timid—grainy, poorly lit, or cluttered. But Liberty represents my pivot to intentionality. 

I noticed how my phone couldn’t handle low light, so I opted to borrow from my dad’s Xiaomi for Heights of Shadow, using ISO 50 to preserve detail. In Bowling Day’s motion blur (1/15 sec shutter), I turned a previously considered technical flaw into narrative element—a trick I’d have dismissed as "bad shot" before taking this class.

I once saw photography as point-and-shoot. Now, it’s problem-solving. One Object's venue lighting (intentional to make up for my camera's weakness) was my workaround for my phone’s weak low-light performance. The course didn’t just teach me to take photos—it taught me to see and be flexible, whether in a mall (One Object) or a pixelated starship.

Warframe’s Captura mode (as I used in Liberty) which had superb image quality had been my sandbox after all the studies about elements, composition, and camera techniques. The Spearman shot took (10+ tries to align light with the rule of thirds)—a patience I later applied to real-world shots like Night Out.

In class, reviewing my peers’ work (e.g., Aaron Ezra Cruz’s cleancut storytelling in WorldPress) exposed my gaps. My early Mannequin shot was cluttered (wrinkled clothes, stray pedestrians); now, I ruthlessly crop distractions. But a peer’s comment on my photo—"Your Church at Night’s grain feels intentional, like film"—taught me to reframe flaws as style or something I need to make amends with. I stopped deleting some "imperfect" shots (or even envisioned imperfect shots) and started leaning into them intentionally or when necessary, as with The Eye’s glare, which now feels like a deliberate presence. I almost skipped Zoom sessions thinking that my understanding is enough (which I learned that I could learn a lot from discussions). While reading how peers dissect Siska Santiago’s Purr-feet Shot (frame-within-a-frame + patterns) in their portfolios gave me courage to share Framed, Heights of Shadow, and one object photography to others and ask for their opinion and criticism (because I know, I still lack a lot). But the first time I receive positive criticism from others felt like I was a photographer, not just a student and got validated for my budding eye for composition.

Before, my shots had many flaws with the use of exposure settings and lack of thoughtful composition. But now, I could see the difference in skill and technique I had now. MMS 173 taught me that photography isn’t about gear—it’s about seeing. My phone still can’t do bokeh, but I now use foreground blur (Sakura) or Dutch angles (One Object) to guide the eye.

Liberty isn’t just a screenshot. It’s my MMS 173 journey. The guardian’s raised arm doesn’t just hold light—it holds every lesson, every 2 a.m. edit, every "aha!" moments in a dimly lit mall (One Object’s carousel shots), the exposure triangles and post-processing drilled into me, the camaraderie of critiques, the thrill of finding “frames within frames” in mundane corners. This course didn’t just teach me photography, it taught me to trust my eye and know that creativity thrives in constraints, whether a phone’s limits or Warframe’s three-scene Captura mode. As I move forward—whether with a phone or a DSLR—I’ll carry Liberty’s lesson. That every shot, real or virtual, is a chance to pave light into darkness. I’ll chase that balance of technical rigor and rebellious joy—because now I know that the best photos aren’t taken; they’re witnessed, then claimed.