I was asked recently why I have both black and white and color images in my portfolio. Finding it a strange question, I asked what they meant. Their thinking was there were “black and white” photographers (somehow equated to “old school”) and color photographers (somehow associated with “digital photography”), and ne’er the twain shall meet. This view got me thinking about what non-photographers think photography is and why I choose to reproduce some images in black and white, others in color, and a few in both.
The expression of artistic vision has always been dependent on the materials used to create that vision, whether it be paint, clay, textiles, movement, voice, or in the case of photography, the recording of light. These materials limit the form of communication to what is possible with the material used. It influences the arrangement of the various aspects the art form can take. These limitations influence the perception a viewer has regarding the art itself. Some may think the perception of the viewer is inconsequential, for the artist is the one communicating, but I strongly disagree. Communication cannot happen without a transmitter and a receiver. In most cases, the receivers, the viewers of art, are not artists themselves. Their interpretation is what will most probably be communicated now and in the future, so their view is relevant. The question of “why have both black and white and color images” isn't about men and why I create these images. It's about the viewer, and their interpretations of what photography is. So why do I share both, and what does that mean? For those that have read this blog, you know at one time I created black and white images exclusively. I believed (wrongly) that black and white was somehow “art”, while color was “commercial”, and not worth my time. Oh, the hubris of young age! As through a glass darkly, photography is always an interpretation of the reality around us. Even those images that are so abstract as to be totally disconnected from reality, are, in essence, nothing but images of real things, even if those things are light and shadow. Unlike paint, which is placed on a blank canvas to create an image from nothing, photography is constrained by the reality that it interprets. This aspect, so unique to photography, leads to the mistaken belief that photography is “real”, while other art forms are not. Photography is, for the most part, an interpretation of the real world based on capturing the light and shadow our eyes interpret as reality. In my view, this is what makes photography very different from other art forms. We are always capturing, in real time, what is happening around us. And yet, if that is all we did as photographers, everything would look like a drivers license headshot. That is clearly not the case, so what’s happening? Photography uses the same elements other media uses to communicate, namely, line, shape, form, texture, color. Each artist interprets the world using these elements in different combinations, creating a piece that communicates some aspect of the world. When we choose to interpret a reality in color or black and white, we are emphasizing different elements in varying degrees. One image may be strongest in color, with less emphasis on the other elements, while another’s strength is its texture or form more than its color. Which is best? Neither. The color image is strong because of its color. The black and white image is strong because of its use of line, shape, form and texture. When I choose color over black and white, I am purposefully emphasizing that aspect of the image that is strongest, and consequently, creating an interpretation of reality that emphasizes color. That is why some images are best interpreted one way over another, either in color or black and white. And yet, there are a few images which stand upon the strengths of both interpretations. Their meaning changes because of these aspects, but the image itself stays strong and the message it communicates can be a powerful one. Color photography is no more “digital” or “commercial” than black and white photography is “old school” or “art”. They are both aspects of a medium used to interpret the world in different ways. Both have strengths and weaknesses unique to each other, and it's these strength and weaknesses that, if put to good use, create images that a viewer can appreciate and communicate with.
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Last time I wrote about the diversity of our land and the opportunities it brought to photograph cultures different from our own. I ended with a thought about missing out on the experience because we focus too much on taking photographs rather than the experience itself. And I admit... this can happen.
What we focus on influences our perception of the experiences we have when we travel. Long ago, my father went on a trip to Europe. He dutifully carried his video camera around and recorded events on the trip. When back home, we watched what he had recorded, and he proudly stated that he had "sacrificed" seeing what he recorded so he could get "great images" and share them. In essence, he traveled half way across the world and spent who knows how many thousands of dollars, to experience everything through a viewfinder. He could have just rented a video and watched it from home... It would have had better production values. Although this example may be an extreme case, we nevertheless do run the risk of missing out on something if we focus solely on our photography and not what is going on around us. I would suggest it is not the taking of photos that makes us miss an experience... it is our preconceived notion on what the experience has to be which determines how we are affected by that experience. To put it another way, our concept of what we are "supposed" to experience determines what we experience and how we react to it. If we travel and expect four star hotels, pristine beaches, and smiling foreign faces, then we have already decided what the travel, and the experience, has to be about. We create an artificial landscape, one manufactured in our minds, not in reality. And there isn't anything inherently wrong with that... I like four star hotels... they're comfortable and a great escape from the day to day world. But that's just it, they are an escape from reality. If we are interested in documenting what the world is really like, then we need to be a part of that reality. Of course, we could always go to the four star hotel and document that reality, a perfectly valid experience, but one that I would suggest is not the reality of the surrounding landscape or those who inhabit it. Again, I do not disparage anyone celebrating a pristine beach, a cruise ship tour, a holiday filled with Christmas decorations -- all wonderful experiences. My point is about determining ahead of time what the experience will be about, or allowing the travel to influence us. Will we, as my father did, see everything through a viewfinder, or will we be influenced by travel itself? Will we record what we want to see or will we record whatever experience we find? There is a meaningful difference here. In the first, we fixate on the recording of an experience and do not allow it to influence us, in the other, we are influenced by the experience and only then create an image that communicates what it has done to us. This is an incredibly powerful difference in our perception of the world. Creating photos, at least for me, has been transformative. It has enhanced the experiences I have been fortunate enough to be a part of, giving me an awareness of my surroundings and of cultures and people I am sure I would have missed otherwise. It has led me to consider what my place in the world is, from the vantage point of having the money to travel, having the time to take off work, having the luxury of being able to visit pretty much any country I choose to. Furthermore, I have been able to share these experiences through my images, and, at least I hope, have helped to bring about, if not a positive change, at least a better understanding of our world. I've been thinking quite a bit about travel and photography lately. Every year, my family makes a point to travel somewhere outside of our usual comfort zone. I suppose it is in my blood. Growing up, I lived in South America and Europe, traveled extensively with my parents, and was brought up to believe this was the way things were. Only later did I find this was not the norm for many, if not most, Americans. This is understandable, as the continental U.S. is large, so traveling outside its borders is not really necessary or always feasible. But I have known many who not only never visited our neighbors to the south and north, but have never left the state they were born in. This is astounding to me. To not even travel this amazing country of ours -- with its history, its diverse cultures, its landscapes of deserts, forests, mountains, and sprawling cities -- seems to be such a shameful loss of opportunity. Each region I visit holds so many hidden gems that make this world of ours so much more awe inspiring, so much more that what we see in our day to day lives. The experience of travel is essential to understanding not only our immediate culture, but the cultures of humankind. In the United States alone we can see this diversity of thought from region to region, from state to state. The people of New Orleans experience a world where storms and flooding are a normal part of life, where the rule of law is based on French principles, not English, where the history and culture were predominantly from French settlers; the West Coast is younger than the East Coast, with Spanish and then Mexican influences; the Midwest had settlers from all over Europe, bringing British, Italian, Greek, and Scandinavian cultures with them. And this is only a slice of the regional distinctions that make up the North American continent. Canada and Mexico have their own cultures far different from the US, First Peoples have cultures older than all of the European settlers, the slave trade and the import of Asian workers brought whole new layers of cultural history into the mix. As a photographer, amateur or professional, we have an opportunity to interpret the differences and similarities in the cultures that make up this land. How can we not? Lately, I've read a few online articles implying to photograph while traveling takes away from the experience, makes one focus on the taking of an image rather than the experience of travel. I have seen, from my own experiences, this can be true. But is this always the case? I'll expand on this next time. For now, I encourage everyone to take the time to travel outside their comfort zone. This may be as easy as driving a few hours to see a metropolis, a beach town, a farm valley. Whatever you are not used to... take the time to experience it. You will be all the greater for it.
It has been one year since I began this journal, and it has been a year of experiences and growth. The original idea behind the website was to have a place to add some images, nothing more. When I found the service I used had a “journal” function, I thought what the hell… it was an opportunity to write down some thoughts. The writing was just a lark -- a way to add some pages to the ‘real’ reason for the website… photography. But as time has progressed, it has become quite a bit more. I seem to post more writing than I do images, and that is fine with me. The subject matter ranges from cameras, to image styles, to teaching, but in the end, it really isn’t about photography, per se. It uses the topic of photography to talk about ways to view of the world, think about life and to help people expand their horizons beyond the norm. Photography is just a vehicle to move on to more important things.
Now some people may think the point might be to get lots of views and responses to each journal entry. But that isn’t really me. It’s not important if there are dozens of likes or multiple comments on a post. They don’t matter. It's not about praise or glory or recognition. It's about making a difference. And if this journal makes a difference to even just one person, I've done something good. And as far as I can tell, I kinda did that with one of the posts... so I’m good. So who was I when this journal started? As I said on the first post: “After many years learning and using film photography as my medium, everything changed…”. I thought I was talking about the world of digital photography, but what I was really talking about was myself. I have changed through the years -- from a young man who was sure that photography was not only forever, but was also my absolute identity -- to an adult who was seeing everything he held dear disappear to be forgotten. Yes, it was that bad. I had become disillusioned and felt the world had moved on without me. After many years of the world transforming itself, as it must do, I realized I was stagnating, and it was time to make some adjustments. The journal was one way to do this. I am not the person I was then. I am more confident at work and in my day to day life; I enjoy the writing I do; and I’ve found photography again, which I have to admit, is still a part of my identity. Okay so maybe this journal is a little bit about photography. But what changed me? Was it the writing or the photography? I think it was both, but in different ways. The photography was the impetus to make a website, but it wasn’t the real inspiration for change. Because of the technological developments in digital imaging, I was able to reconnect with my photography, which was great, but that was only a tool to use for change, not the change itself. Like driving to the store… the car is just the vehicle, not the reason for going. It was the journal, the lark that was only there to fill up space, that was the true instrument of change. Writing the journal has allowed me to organize my thoughts into something more concrete, to codify what I knew was there, but was unable to interpret until I wrote it down. I have grown through this process, and my photography has grown with that transformation. My work seems tighter, more focused; I don't automatically convert every image to black and white; I play around more with color balance, contrast, and developing a mood in images; I use both a mirrorless camera and the camera on my iPhone to create new work; and I am attempting to broaden my photographic horizons by trying out street photography. Not sure where that may lead, but that's for another journal post. These posts have been an unexpected catharsis for me. I was writing just to jot down my thoughts on photography, but in the act of setting down thoughts, I have come to understand my motivations, the ways I see the world, the interactions (or lack thereof) with others. Although these journal posts have views, they are not high in number. They have very little commentary from others... there isn't really a lot of reason for it. The journal is really a diary of sorts… a way to work through the ups and downs that are the experiences of life. And that is where it has excelled. The changes that have occurred in the last year happened in small increments, so small I did not notice them. They culminated in a Valerie Jardin workshop on street photography, something my old self would have scoffed at and never participated in. I have learned a great deal about myself and my place in this world. Change is not always bad... or good. Change is just change. It's how we cope and what we do with it that matters. I used an idiom in my first post a year ago... "I have seen the light". Well, have I seen the light? I think maybe that isn’t the point. It isn't necessary to fully understand everything. I don't have to know exactly who I am and where I am going. I thought I did a long time ago when photography was film and chemistry... and things would never change. I thought I knew exactly who I was and where I was going. All that did was send me down a dead end. It took a long time to realize you are never who you think you are and you never know where you'll end up. You might have heard life is a journey, not a destination. Every step you make, the skips, the falls, the jumps, the runs... all those moves forward or backward (both are good!), make up who you are and lead you to new destinations every moment of your life. Anything can happen. In the last post, I wrote about having difficulty being present during my film and chemistry days. This happened because my mind was always living in the darkroom instead of the present moment. In this post, I'm interested in discussing what I'm calling "experiential" photography, the idea that you need to be present at the time you are actually creating images in the field, and by doing so, you gain a greater understanding of your surroundings and your photographic work.
My immersion into experiential photography has blossomed in the past year, all because of digital imaging. In this digital era, we no longer have to devote most of our photographic time to processing film and printing images. We no longer have to focus on the work ahead in the darkroom, and that releases us from obsessing over development and procedure (in other words... being somewhere else!). The digital camera has allowed us the freedom to consider expression in the field. This is its strength... the idea that expression is the journey, not the process. Chemical photography is process intensive. Mixing chemistry, worrying about temperatures and times, setting up the darkroom, printing images, making choices about film stock, paper bases, types of darkroom equipment... all of these factors must be in alignment with each other or the entire operation can fail. And it takes time, most of which doesn't involve the actual capture of images! You can argue you are creating the image in the darkroom, but that is my point... you don't create it when you actually take the image. It's all darkroom based, not experienced based. Digital is different. You tend to focus on what is going on right now instead of what is going to need to be done later. You are engaged in the immediate capture of your image, not in the work that is to come later. You will have to edit the image on the computer at some point, but this work seems to have a distance from the actual capture of the image. It somehow feels less burdensome, less time consuming, less hassle. Mixing chemistry, developing film, waiting for it to dry, setting up the trays full of chemicals... it just takes inordinate amounts of time, and as I get older, it is all the more tedious. Computer editing has freed me from all that prep time. I still have to get the images onto the computer, but that's nothing compared to the prep time setting up a darkroom. I have to color balance, crop, align, and make a dozen other choices, but again, nothing compared to spending hours in a darkroom to get that one "right" print. I hear fellow darkroom photographers cringing at my words, but honestly, it's a new day. I don't disparage any who can stand for hours on end creating masterpieces... I'm just ready to do it sitting down. Yet there is more to it other than the physical demands, the time involved, or the processes that must be overcome. The digital world has opened up my eyes to a far greater range of possibilities in the field as I capture images. There is a sense of belonging to the time that I am shooting, a connection with the experience. These are things that got left behind, or at the very least, became minimized, in my film days. There was just too much to do after the image was captured on film to get a final print. My brain was focused on the "after moment", not the present moment. Don't get me wrong... digital imaging is no easy task, and it creates its own set of issues. To create something meaningful has become in some ways a greater challenge than it has ever been. We now have to compete with thousands of images in forums, digital media, and throughout the internet, all posted on a daily basis! The shear amount of images creates a background noise that is difficult to overcome, with artists and creators who would never have gotten a chance to show their work, displaying images that are easily recognized in a matter of seconds. The strength of some of this work is uplifting, but also daunting... how do you compete with such talent? The reality is, you don't. Photography, at least for me, is about self-exploration, not competition. It is about communicating thoughts and ideas through images and exploring the possibilities inherent within the photographic process. Digital imaging has allowed me to be engaged in that creation, which is the whole point. If you get bogged down with the process alone, your experience is about that process, not about interpreting the experience you're trying to capture using that process. There are many images where creation in the darkroom is the whole point... just look at the work of Jerry Uelsmann. For those who find interpretations are best made in a darkroom... great! This is not a competition. One isn't better or more meaningful than the other. Let me remind you of what I said in a previous post... Photography is not about being digital... or about being chemical... or about one being better or more traditional or more real or whatever other inane argument you may see online. I can appreciate film and chemistry for what it is without feeling like I've sold out or abandoned "real" photography. If we want to get down to it, photography started out with daguerreotypes -- positive images on metal. So film negatives aren't real by that standard at all! So there you have it... experience, engagement, exchange of information. Photography in a nutshell. And always remember... there isn't a "real" photography. There's just photography. In the film days, I had no idea what I had captured until it was processed, so whatever I ended up with was something"I meant to do". That's in quotes because it really wasn't so. Whatever the result, I told myself it was the way I wanted the exposure to look. If the image was slightly underexposed, it was because of the light quality at the time, or the image needed to be underexposed to create an atmosphere. If it was overexposed, I convinced myself I had so much film density to work with!
The more I think about it, the more I have come to believe I was fooling myself. I was fixing errors in the darkroom because of how I shot the image on film. Sure, I love the work I did and I am satisfied I accomplished what I wanted to at the time, but my time was spent in the darkroom, understanding every aspect of an image from an 'after I shot it' perspective. When I was out capturing images, I understood light and how it affected a scene, I saw shadows and the play of light, but my mind was on how I was going to interpret that scene in the darkroom, not on appreciating what I was viewing and interpreting in the field. Since my mind was somewhere else, I photographed with the understanding I would change it later. Nothing wrong with interpretation of course... we do it all the time. But I think I might have lost the opportunity to interpret a scene at the moment of taking the photograph. Instead of appreciating a scene just for the scene itself, I was altering it in my mind, although I don't think I realized that at the time. I became disconnected from what was around me so I could interpret it later in the darkroom. I wasn't living in the moment, or better put, I was altering the moment to be exclusively a photographic one, not an experiential one. I've seen online discussions about how we alter our experiences because of our photographic practice. Many believe they need to convince you to leave your camera at home to appreciate an experience. I can't fault them for saying this... they miss out on the experience of just being there because they focus on the photographic process instead of the journey of photographic communication and interpretation. If that is how you are, then I agree... leave that burdensome box at home! That said... to be present in the moment and to also interpret that moment with my camera is as close to paradise as I'll ever experience in this world. The camera is my way of experiencing something greater than myself, something special and unique. If anything, photography has given me an insight about the world, one that helps me appreciate my experiences. I cannot count the times I have traveled without a camera and completely ignored the world around me. I was too busy doing whatever I was doing and getting to wherever I was going. I didn't take the time to slow down and appreciate the magic around me. The camera forces me into the experience, not away from it, and the process of creating an image makes me appreciate these experiences all the more. I'm just got back from the Valérie Jardin Street Photography workshop... and I don't know what to say. There are so many things running through my head, the experience, the photography, the learning... where does one start?
I could write on technical issues -- how street photography and environmental photography are two different animals, from your visual perspective to the settings on your camera; Or I could discuss the workshop itself -- the cold weather I had to be overcome, the enjoyment of meeting others with the same love of photography, and the impressions of walking downtown Dallas; And what about our esteemed mentor, Valérie Jardin... I could go on and on about her photographic experiences, her passion for sharing her knowledge, her love of teaching. I'm sure I will write about all of these things, but for now, I'm thinking about the workshop experience and how it affects our vision and our thinking. Workshops are something I used to do when I was first learning about photography. They were a way to get a new perspective on the craft from those that had experienced it first hand. Learning about photography in a state college with a small art department and even smaller photo program, you tended to look elsewhere for more in depth knowledge. The opportunities were limited, but well worth the effort. I met prominent photographers of the time, took workshops across the country when I was able to, and generally learned the craft by absorbing everything I could from a diverse set of image makers. These experiences molded the way I viewed photography and its (and my) place in the world. Pretty powerful stuff! So what happened? Why did I stop going to workshops and gallery events and talks and whatever else? I believe at some point, we all stop doing these things. We have to go explore our craft on our own, find our own voice in the midst of all the cacophony. In so doing, we have to forcibly let go of what others are doing, remove the training wheels so to speak, and venture out into the unknown. And that's a good thing. If we all were busy attending discussions on the state of photography, we wouldn't be out there actually creating images! And yet, there comes a time when we have explored our voice and, unfortunately, become complacent, satisfied that we have done what we set out to do and need do nothing else. We may even go so far as to believe there really isn't anything new to explore, or worse, that anything new is anathema to our view of the world. What a horrid way to live! I can say all this from personal experience. I left photography and all its digital evolution... I felt it had changed to the point that it wasn't photography anymore. I had come to a point that I felt satisfied with what I had done, and did not need these changes in my life. They had become the anathema to my view of how photography was supposed to be. I could not have been more wrong. Photography is not about technique, equipment, or subject matter. It is, as I have said so many times before, about communication. The workshop I attended could not have underscored this point more. Working on the streets and photographing people is so far removed from what I am used to that I was at a loss as to how to approach the subject. That's a wonderful thing! It demonstrates that there is ALWAYS something new to learn, something greater to see, visions to explore and communicate in a new way. Will street photography ever be a part of my repertoire? Can't say. But what I can say is, Valérie has opened my eyes to other ways of seeing, and that makes all the difference in the world. If at any time you think you've done what you set out to do, remember... you're not even close. I have discovered Lightroom on my smartphone. Now that may seem a little dimwitted of me, but give me a break... I was born when computers were giant building-sized overheated monstrosities that everyone thought a miracle because they were able to add two numbers together. I now carry a device that not only adds two numbers together, but uses numbers to keep phone records, uses numbers to manage my accounts, collects numerous news articles of interest, connects me to social media, stores my music and books, and, I don't doubt, goes on a vacation to Paris and sends me e-postcards on how much fun it's having, all the time wishing I was there.
So anyway... I have discovered Lightroom on my smartphone, and do I love it. I have been editing images with it on my laptop, and knew that it existed on my phone, but had no idea of what it could do. I see all my RAW images, edit them on the smartphone (slightly more limited than the laptop, but give it a break... it just got back from Paris and is jet lagged!), save them as JPEGs and even post them on social media. Oooh La La! C'est magnifique! Comment pourrais-je vivre sans cela pendant si longtemps?* (Sorry... all my phone wants to do is speak in French and eat crepes all day. But I digress...). The thing is, now that I can use my smartphone to easily post my images on Instagram without having to export, resize, log into Instagram and do whatever I have to do on a laptop, I find that I'm getting a lot of 'likes' and people are starting to follow me. I've posted images before, and even sent links to the images on this website, but haven't seen much traffic until now. What has changed? Is the immediacy of an image on social media more effective than a link to the same image? Since I can more easily post more often, does that keep me in the minds of other users? Did my phone really just send me a bill for a night out at the Moulin Rouge? I need to start keeping tabs on my devices. As a result of all this activity, I get excited when I see that little heart on Instagram go red. I'm noticed! I'm liked! I'm followed! In any other context, that could sound rather menacing, but not in the social media world. We seem to crave being recognized when it comes to social media... and that is saying a lot for someone who likes to stay at home and veg in front of the television all day. How did I become someone that wants to be noticed? What does it say about me as a person or us as a society? Is it important for our self esteem to have lots of 'likes' or is this just the new role we play in this 21st century technological age? It is an odd thing being constantly reviewed by your peers and even more so when it comes from total strangers. Why should anyone care what someone else thinks about a tweet, an image, or a blog post? Could this indicate something missing in our lives? For me, this is a realization I'm able to reach and process through this journal and through my image creation. I began writing this post just to talk about how strange it was that I liked getting 'likes', but it has turned into a self-reflection on the need for a sense of connection, a way of communicating feelings that is somehow missing otherwise. If this is truly the case, is the best solution really to crave more and more 'likes'? Sounds too much like an addict thinking just a little bit more will make them feel better and able to cope with reality. Maybe the best thing is to find other outlets that allow us to connect with the world. If we start creating images that are less reliant on self-centered motivations and more about contributing to others, then we would gain the recognition that we are truly craving... that of making a difference. Although this one small change doesn't remove the need to be noticed, it helps us realize we need to be needed. And that's what life is all about. *: By the way... my phone may speak French, but I, regrettably, do not. I make no claim as to the accuracy of the translation! 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. 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! |
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December 2018
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