When I write in this blog, I take some time to review and edit. Because of this, I set up a calendar to release these posts long after I write them. That way I have time to clean up any spelling and grammatical errors and make sure what I write makes some sort of sense. This post was scheduled for November 15, but I just finished reading Rick Steves' My Take on Catalonia vs. Spain, and felt the time to release this post was right now. In a time when a madman uses automatic weapons to kill in Las Vegas, when protests and counter protests are being held throughout the U.S., when fear of just about everything seems to control our political views, we need to come together as a nation and a world, to reach out to what we fear and see it for what it really is, a reaction to that which is not us. We fear the illusion which we believe to be real, and in so doing, act in a way that is a detriment to ourselves and our society. When we fear, we stay in the dark, in our illusion of safety, and the result is catastrophic. It is time high time we opened our minds to experience the other, that which we fear, the people we do not understand, the contacts we have never experienced. Sure, this blog is about photography. But it is also about experience, about communication, about connecting with our world and the people in it. It's seems a small thing to just go out and photograph this experience, but it is so much more. It doesn't matter if you are a professional photographer or just bought your first compact camera... go out there and make some images. Experience life. Create a vision and express it. See the world not as the illusion you create in your mind, but for the rich and meaningful reality it is... and find joy in the realization that what is out there is not a pit of fear, but the pinnacle of our very existence. With that in mind... Photography as a Political Act... I finished reading Street Photography — Creative Vision Behind the Lens by Valérie Jardin. I gave a short review of the book in an earlier post, so go there if your interested. This post is about what getting this book has made me think about, and that may actually be more important than a book review anyway.
Valérie Jardin photographs people from around the world, and, being someone who loves to experience the world in all its variety, I have been intrigued by her ability to communicate emotional impact in her photographic work. This in turn has gotten me interested in another author and world traveler, Rick Steves. Although I may not always agree with his views, I appreciate his honesty, his integrity, and his ideas on the purpose of travel, which brings me to the description of his book, Travel as a Political Act: Travel connects people with people. It helps us fit more comfortably and compatibly into a shrinking world. And it inspires creative new solutions to persistent problems facing our nation. We can’t understand our world without experiencing it... Americans who “travel as a political act” can have the time of their lives and come home smarter — with a better understanding of the interconnectedness of today’s world and just how our nation fits in. So now I’ve gone from Valérie Jardin's street photos to Rick Steves' socially conscious traveling, and you may be wondering how these two topics relate to each other. I’m so glad you asked. Photography is the one medium that is immediately approachable to just about anyone. We don't have to visit a museum to see it, we don't have to buy tickets to a concert to hear it, we don't even have to own a camera to experience it. It is all around us... on billboards as we drive down the street, hanging on walls of restaurants where we eat, on our own laptops and smartphones as we surf the Internet. And even if we don't photograph our lives, you can be sure someone in our family does. This approachability is the real magic of photography... it is the universal communicator that makes language barriers fall away. With digital imaging, you can share moments with those you photograph, right from that little screen in the back of the camera. What better way to experience our world commonality at a time it seems we can't be farther apart? The very act of connecting with our photography is a political act, be it in a foreign land or in our own neighborhoods. Through this act, we connect with our humanity and realize how few differences we really have, and how much we have in common. You can see this effect in action in the DSFN Project, where Valérie is documenting Joshua Coombes cutting hair for homeless people. As Josh has said, "This isn’t charity, it’s connection. It’s keeping all doors open to listen to others and learn." Our cultures and backgrounds make us who we are, and although different, are not disconnected from each other. We share similar experiences... we work, drink, laugh, cry, sing, play, love... and want the best for those we care about. Of course there are cultural differences, but it's these differences that bring a richness to life. We learn from that richness and from each other, and see how much alike we really are. Landscape photography has been my experience and vision for a long time. I'm not letting that go by the wayside, but it's time to broaden my horizons and include that richness of life I speak about above. In the next post I'm going to outline a tentative plan on how this might happen.
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I just received Street Photography — Creative Vision Behind the Lens by Valérie Jardin and decided to write down some thoughts I had. That's what a journal is for, isn't it?
If you have been reading my previous journal posts, you know I signed up for one of her workshops on street photography (doesn't happen until December... I'll talk about the workshop then!). In preparation for the event, I thought it would be a good idea to purchase her new book and see what I could look forward to. Although I've visited her website, read her Twitter feed, seen her work on Instagram, watched her videos on Facebook, and just started listening to her podcast, I have never actually met her, so don't really know how her personal process unfolds. You actually have to meet someone to understand the steps they take and inner thoughts they have on their elusive search for the decisive moment. The book promised to be a glimpse into these inner workings. The first part of the book is an overview of methods used in street photography. She discusses her approach to street photography, which is good since I have no idea what I'm doing in that regard. There are some standard photo techniques, a bit about legal issues, and some assignments to try out. This is all good stuff, and it got me hungry for more. There were some great pointers about street photography, and the assignments gave me ideas on how to start. And then there is the second part of the book... The decisive moment clearly shows in all her work, and it's the second part of the book where you get the feel of workshop excitement. Do you know that part of a workshop where you've met everyone, you've talked a bit, you've seen some examples and you're ready and raring to go out and shoot shoot shoot? That's the entire raison d'être of this part of the book. Valérie shows you an image, then walks you through her thinking process when she created it. I felt I was walking with her, thinking about the subject in front of the camera, trying to capture that feel, that light, that magical moment. She speaks of personal feelings (the loneliness she felt when a friend could not meet her), the challenges of waiting for the right subject ('Several tourists entered my frame, but none were interesting enough...'), the satisfaction of capturing something special ('It never gets old!'). This is what makes reading her book and viewing her images inspirational... those stories behind the work that become a part of the vision and give it that personal touch that makes an image extraordinary. Through her images and her writing, she offers the viewer a window into her thought processes, her technique, and her love of street photography and humanity. And this is powerful stuff! It's rare to find a photography book that can emulate that feeling you get as you search for inspiration. There are many books that can detail the steps of a process, but for the most part, they are dry and tedious. Step by step instructions are for manuals, not for photographic creativity. The text that accompanies her images provides emotional background and sets the scene for that creativity. If this book is any indication of what her workshops are like, I can't wait to be a part of one! So now on to personal reflection. After 30 years and more in photography – from those early days of college, to working in the field, to teaching – I have never ceased the need to learn something new. For a time, when digital began to eclipse traditional film and chemistry, I did lose heart, but now that I've realigned my thinking and have become excited about the digital possibilities, I have a voracious need to absorb everything I can of this new paradigm. I have been gobbling up videos by Ben Long, scanning Instagram for photographic inspiration, and following image creators on Twitter. But why do I do this? What is my ultimate goal? Not sure I can answer that, not really. I can say I feel satisfied to learn new things, to not get stuck in a rut or just feel like I'm fading away. And that's important... but more of an objective than a goal. So now I have to go away and think a bit to figure out my goal. Do I even have one? If I do, how does it impact my life? That's what I get for starting this journal! I don't like photographing people. That's a strange statement coming from someone who is known to be gregarious in nature. Of course, some may take that to mean loud, obnoxious, unreserved, uninhibited... did I mention loud? To put it another way, I feel more comfortable if I know what is going on around me and know who I'm dealing with, and the best way to do that is to jump right in and introduce myself. The funny thing is, I'm reserved and like being alone, preferring that over socializing at a party. This may be why, as you look at my photographs, you'll see mountains and rivers and trees and buildings and... no people. I'm just not a people person, at least photographically. I don't feel comfortable pointing a camera at people, wondering if I need a legal form to take a photograph, and I worry how they feel about me pointing a camera at them. People on a city street have things to deal with and I don't want to interrupt those concerns. And unlike mountains and rivers and trees and buildings, people keep moving around when I'm trying to compose. STOP IT! I like my subjects to sit there and wait until the light is just right so I can capture the magic of the moment. It's hard enough finding the right composition, the right light, the perfect mood, without having to deal with motion and gestures and... why do they insist on moving so much?!? Lately, I've been considering this relationship between me and people. I enjoy watching the crowds go by in the mall as I drink my overpriced chai tea latte, wondering what they're shopping for, where they've been in their lives, what makes them tick. My non-photography job is helping students succeed in their education, and I'm overjoyed when they grow and learn. And even when I go out and photograph, it's wonderful to see that others are enjoying nature and history and leisure and... please just stay out of my way. And that's the crux of the matter... I like people around as long as I don't have to interact with them. Interaction for me is an investment, not something to pass the time. This investment means I am genuinely interested in how people tick. I'm concerned if someone is having a bad day and want to take the time to listen and try to help. But for most day to day interaction, all that small talk... it's just not for me. Informal chit chat with no meaningful direction is irritating to me. I'm not one that can play the middle ground... I'm either invested in the conversation, or I'm not. What does this have to do with the photographic process? I'm glad you asked. Photography, by its very nature, does not allow disengagement from the world. Cameras like the Fuji X-T1 that I use, are intrusive devices, unnatural in their form and use. They are big enough to be noticed, therefore an obvious attachment to oneself, have to be lifted to the face or require you to change your position to view a screen, and they don't have the casual "I'm taking a selfie" vibe a smartphone has. The camera becomes the physical embodiment of deep and meaningful interaction. Because of this imposed intrusiveness, I tend to shy away from human involvement in my photography. When I'm invested in the process of image creation, it's difficult to be invested in the human subject at the same time. But how do I get to a place where I can connect to the human condition and yet be detached enough to capture the photographic moment? It seems these two views are on the opposite sides of the spectrum, and yet I see photographers successfully engage with humanity and their photography all the time. I'm missing some key element that allows me to connect the seemingly unconnectable. In order to find this elusive idea, I've decided to take a workshop on street photography, forcing myself to interact with the people I photograph. The idea has been jelling in my mind for a while now, and came to a head when I recommended experiencing life through a workshop in a previous post. The workshop I chose, facilitated by Valérie Jardin, promises to discuss the different ways to approach street photography, review ethical aspects, and give advice on how to get over the fear of photographing strangers in the streets. This sounds exactly like the very thing I loathe... but the very thing I need. The workshop won't be held until December, but once I've experienced it, I'll let you know how it goes. I've seen discussions lately about the importance (or irrelevancy) of photographic equipment... mostly concerning cameras and lenses. Historically, photographers have been a fickle lot, and more often than not, equipment junkies. I fondly remember the days I was working in camera sales and two photographer customers (one Nikon, one Canon) were having a heated debate with each other concerning the length of their respective zoom lenses. Yes... you read that right... the length. Please feel free to insert any joke you may find relevant. Far be it from me to make any judgments regarding this discussion, but it does go to show how our obsession with equipment can cloud our vision of the bigger picture. (There are so many zingers I could be adding right now... but I digress). For most of my early career, I was not only an equipment junkie, but a brand snob. My first camera was a Nikon FM, and I would never accept Canon as a worthwhile contender (while Minolta wasn't even on the radar). Why? For no other reason than it seems to be in the nature of photographers to attach themselves to a brand and be fiercely loyal to it. As time progressed, my camera of choice became Hasselblad, and anything less was a toy camera meant for those just starting in the business. Arrogance, thy name is photographer. Many photographers argue that equipment is a vital component to photographic success and the best made equipment will result in the best made images. You can easily see how many times cheap materials give us terrible products. How often have we bemoaned accepting the "lowest bid" or regretted buying the off brand? It is logical to think this holds true for any endeavor, but is this necessarily so? I often sold expensive but also well crafted equipment to my customers (that was my job!). And yet, many of the resulting images were, shall we say, less than optimum. So what was wrong? How could superior equipment result in inferior quality? If you take some time to think about it, you have to wonder how much quality you get for your investment in dollars. I mean... does a $40,000 Hasselblad H6D really give 20 times the quality of a $2,000 Fuji X-T1? This kind of thinking led me to the conclusion equipment was at best marginally important, and if anything, could very well be detrimental to the whole process. Photographers are obsessed with finding the magic equipment that will make them the greatest success, either monetarily wealthy or immensely popular. They forget the essence of photography... its ability to communicate through the photographic image, and the resulting images demonstrate that lack of vision. If you browse some of my photographs, you will note I have an entire section devoted solely to smartphone images. Most of these images are created at the spur of the moment. I see something that catches my eye and I photograph it. I later go into my phone settings and tweak the image with the limited tools available. No exporting to Photoshop, no careful planning, no stressing out at the exact edits needed. This process is so casual, that some of the images were taken as I was driving down the highway! So does this mean equipment is nothing but a con, a deception by corporations that have run out of ideas to make the next best thing in camera tech? I have to admit, I was thinking this for the longest time. I came to believe the only thing that matters is your experience as a photographer, your personal vision and the techniques you have learned along the way. This is also a logical argument. Doesn't everyone want the plumber with the best experience to fix your bursting pipes? Would you want to fly with a pilot that got a "C" in landing planes? As I said, I've been using my smartphone as a camera, and have been seeing rather dramatic clouds in the sky of late. Most have been taken just outside my office at work, sometimes going to the top floor of the garage and pointing up. Not a lot of time needed and very little thinking required. After showing these to my coworkers, they would say how much they liked them, and I would invariably say something like "well... it's just a smartphone shot". I was belittling my work because I was still of a mind that equipment matters, no matter what I said I believed. So these comments got me thinking... was the image not important because it was taken with a phone? Why was I equating importance with equipment and not technique? Did I believe the steps used to arrive at the image were too simple and too automated, therefore inferior? At first, I thought I was just using the phone as a ready way to capture an image, mostly for my own amusement. I would then edit the image, somewhat haphazardly, with whatever was readily available in the phone software. But I showed these images to others and also posted them online. I must have thought more of them than just as amusing pastimes. The more I thought about it and the feedback I was given, I realized I was missing the point altogether. The phone was the tool I chose because of my photographic experiences. The way I used the phone... the angles, the lighting, the time of day, the subject matter... all of these things came about because of these experiences. One person actually told me (once I had said it was only a phone image) that they would not have thought of taking that photo at all, much less of taking it in just the way I did and editing it in just the way it had been edited. I realized this was the mark of experience, of a vision that they did not possess. The equipment in this case was the vehicle that created just the right image for what I was trying to capture and for what I wanted to say. If I had wanted to say something else, I might have used a different camera. So... is equipment important? Well, the right equipment for the job is important, but more so is the right experience. Without the right equipment, an inexperienced photographer may not know how to compensate, but with enough experience, great images can be the result (although they may be different that what was expected). Without experience to fall back on, even the greatest cameras and lenses will usually result in average shots (at best!). Success isn't based on the equipment you have nor is it based on the techniques you use. It is about the experiences, in other words, the right balance between your equipment choices and the techniques you have learned that results in something greater than either one could achieve on its own. The trick is to have the experience needed to choose the right equipment and use the proper techniques for successfully produce your personal vision. With that powerful combination, you will most certainly succeed. What would I suggest? Go out with whatever you have, be it smartphone, SLR or mirrorless camera, and put everything on automatic. Go out and practice vision. Capture communication. Come back and think about your experiences. Was there something lacking? Do you need different equipment to capture the image? Do you need a photo workshop or two or maybe just experience life so you have something to say? Then go out and get those things! Find the answers to these questions. Once you do, then, and only then, will you succeed. |
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