In the last post, I posed the question "If you accept that technical information and a photographers feelings offer little useful information, how can viewing images help you become a better photographer?" The short answer is... it can't.
Let me explain. For information to have any validity, you must have something to base the information on. We don't live in a vacuum, and how we view the world determines what we will accept in that world. The old cliche "I may not know much about art, but I know what I like" only means you are limiting your appreciation to what you know and missing the potential benefits of expanding your photographic range. Viewing a photograph with such limitations will also limit what you can learn from viewing the photograph in the first place. Valid information is not gained just by viewing an image, nor by just studying the jargon and mechanics of photography. These may be useful elements, but are still only part of the answer. Unfortunately, it is as far as many people get, and they miss the rich experiences they could have cultivated if they had gone just a little farther. Case in point... when I was first dragged to museums in my youth, I was bored out of my mind and couldn't wait to get out of there. I had no knowledge of the history of the artist or their times, I had no background understanding of the meaning conveyed by a style or medium of art, and I couldn't appreciate the work involved in the creation of the pieces on display. In essence, I had nothing to base the museum and art experience on. I was like a rocket with fuel but no guidance system, with energy to understand what I already knew but no guidance to appreciate that which I did not. Without at least some understanding of what we are looking at, we run the risk of missing the meaning altogether. The same can be said for studying camera specs and technical information. If this is all you focus on while viewing a photograph, you are a guidance system, full of knowledge, but with no rocket to take you anywhere, and you come away with nothing truly meaningful. The technical aspects may be needed, but they didn't create the image. The image the photographer wanted to create determined the technical needs, not the other way around. Ultimately, creating a photograph requires making choices, and these choices come from two places... knowledge and experience. Knowledge As I said in the previous post, I make choices before I even leave the house, which determines what direction I will follow in my photographic journey. Those choices determine what subject matter I tend to photograph. Yes, you could say a portrait photographer has to make choices based on what is needed to create a portrait, but I would say that choice was made when they chose portraiture as their career, long before the subject was chosen. To be successful, they needed to learn all there was to learn about portraiture, the equipment used, posing and lighting, and so on. In other words, they had to gain knowledge in order to begin creating portraits. Experience It is important to learn the mechanics of photography, and by all means do so. Look up the specs of the camera you are using, read about the different aspect ratios, the sensor sizes, the lenses in a system and how their apertures affect an image. But don't stop there. If you want to understand the visual effects your camera and lens combination will give you, you need to go out and actually take photographs with your own equipment. Understanding the mechanics is all fine and good, but experience with those mechanics will bring your photography to the next level. Deep understanding of the mechanics of photography allows you to focus on the creation of an image. Once you start capturing images, however successful or failed the attempts may be, you have gained the experience needed to understand more than just the mechanics behind a photograph. In turn, these experiences help you shape your choices when creating images, which leads you to more experiences and greater understanding of photography as a whole. With this level of understanding, you can come away with an appreciation of all aspects of a photograph. When viewing another photographers image, you can now gain insights to your own creative process, be it mechanical aspects or experiences you communicate through your photographs. You grow and become better at your craft and in the creation of images that convey significant, meaningful communication.
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Have you ever noticed photographers seem to have this need to give you information on their photographic creations? You know… things like where the shot was taken, what time of day it was, the camera settings used or even how they were "feeling" at the time.
Is it important for the viewer to know what aperture I used, what time of day it was or mood I was in? Last time I checked, Van Gough didn't list the different shades of blue he used creating 'Starry Night'; I'm not quite sure how Grant Wood felt when he painted 'American Gothic' (but those two sure do look depressed!); and I'm still in the dark as to what brand of chisel Michelangelo used when sculpting 'David'! It seems that, unlike other artists, photographers are overly preoccupied with including technical information of their magic moment… which in turn dilutes the magic they worked so hard to capture. A successful image communicates without the need for technical jargon, so why the need to include it in descriptive text after the fact? What significance is there to knowing a photograph was captured at a setting of ISO 100 at 1/250th of a second at f/ 5.6 using a 35mm lens? None of this information matters. Now you might say that’s not true. Technical information imparts knowledge concerning the image making process. Knowing how the photographer felt allows you to experience what they felt when they took the shot, eventually leading to "better" photographs. But I would offer a different perspective. Let’s go through this step by step. ISO / Aperture / Shutter Speed The great triad of exposure would seemingly be something important to know. The thing is, the sensor on my camera is adjusted to ISO 200 for optimum results and I don't know what another cameras optimum ISO may be, so including this information only tells me a different ISO was used, not if it was optimum for the camera or if it was purposefully changed for effect. It may be image quality was sacrificed in order to hold the camera steady without a tripod. Maybe the photographer just liked the effect with a chosen ISO. I have no way of knowing the reason behind the choice. And that is the operative word... reason. Each choice is made for a reason. How am I to know if the photographer just happened to have the camera set where they needed it or if it was a conscious choice? Is that an important criteria for the image I'm looking at? Will it affect decisions made later? Again... no way of knowing, hence, the information which is seemingly important, is actually of little use. Since I wasn't there when the image was captured, the shutter speed and aperture information could indicate the kind of day it was or the type of light falling on the subject... or it might not. Was the image under or overexposed? The photographer could have intentionally overexposed the shot and then manipulated the image in post-production. The aperture information may tell me they used a wide aperture and got shallow depth of field, but depth of field is also affected by sensor size, how far away you are from the subject and how far away distant objects are from that same subject. Without that information, I don't have much to go on, and I've never seen sensor size, relative distances or exact camera position discussed with any detail on any photograph I have ever seen… not once. At best, I might find the subject was "shot from above", but how far above? A foot? A mile? Does it really matter? Lens This sounds like good information, doesn’t it? Knowing when to use the right focal length lens for a given situation can help me take better images. But as I mentioned before, I don’t know the size of the camera sensor, and that determines if a lens is wide, normal or long for that camera. A full frame camera would find 35mm slightly wide, but an APS-C would consider that a lens that captures a normal angle of view. Looking at the image tells me if the scene seems distorted by a wider than normal view or compressed from the effects of a longer lens. What exact lens was used is unimportant. The lens choice is determined by the distance from a subject and what the photographer wants to capture. In some instances it is determined by what lens the photographer has at the time! The lens I choose to have with me will quite often be the determining factor on what kind of images I capture. If all I have is a wide angle lens, I tend to avoid portraits and instead capture landscapes. Feelings That last statement brings up a good point... the equipment I carry with me limits the choices I make in the field. If I carry every possible combination of lens, flash, tripod, filter, camera body and anything else I might possibly need in the field, I'm going to be one tired grumpy photographer before the day is through. Therefore, I don't carry much with me when I photograph because I wouldn't last long if I did. I make choices before I even leave the house, which determines what direction I will follow in my photographic journey. I most often carry one camera with a zoom lens, a polarizing filter, rarely if ever have a tripod or flash, and I like to shoot during the day. This means I have already limited my images to one sensor size, a specific optimal ISO, a set of angles and aperture combinations determined by the zoom range of the lens, a limit on useful shutter speeds (since I most often will be hand holding my camera), and the use of daylight over artificial light. I do this because I know what I like to photograph, the subjects I tend to capture, the ranges and distances I prefer to shoot in, and the knowledge that I will get tired and want to take a break during shooting. That's just me and has nothing whatsoever to do with what you might do or how you might feel. All of these decisions are made because of who I am and how I perceive the world and the process of image making. You are not me, so knowing how I feel doesn't enter into the equation at all. If you like to carry a lot of equipment and have the stamina to do so, you won't be getting grumpy, so what does it matter if I do? I don't like the cold, so when I shoot in winter, this affects my mood. You may love the cold, so who cares if I don't? If I don't feel well one day but take this amazing photograph, are you going to wait until you don't feel well before you go out and shoot? I would certainly hope not! If you accept that technical information and a photographers feelings offer little useful information, how can viewing images help you become a better photographer? I'll try to answer that question in the next post. 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. Saw a post on social media the other day about film and digital photography. It posed a question that I think about often. Essentially, it asked if film photography made you a better photographer. The basic idea was film made you slow down because you had a limited number of shots per roll and it took a lot of time to develop and then print images, which in turn made you think and become a stronger photographer.
At first, this seemed reasonable to me. I mean, I had many students who really had to stop and think when they used film, and thinking is good, right? So, case closed. Film is better. End of discussion. Or is it? Back in the days when film was photography and digital was some weird thing they spent millions on to make really bad special effects, I shot 36 exposure 35mm film. As time progressed, I moved to 12 exposure medium format, and yes, this slowed me down and made me really think. The film was more expensive and I got fewer shots per roll, so it stood to reason I had to make every shot count. After a time, I realized I got one really good shot per roll (that means 1 in 36 when I shot 35mm and 1 in 12 when I moved to medium format). With less shots on a roll, I had to slow down and really experience the moment. I had to be better at what I did because I couldn’t afford to be sloppy. So, case closed. Film is better. End of discussion. Or is it? When I was first learning to create images, I had no idea what I was doing. I had to gain experience, and film made me work at it, so it was a great learning experience. I couldn't be sloppy and really had to focus on image making. But to be honest, it also was very limiting. I was constantly worried that my images would be ruined in processing. I didn't want to experiment with different angles and different lighting conditions because I only had so much money I could spend on film and chemistry. I became stingy with my image making, and that lead to stagnation and frustration. When digital came around, I was free to shoot a thousand shots, changing angles, spending time with one subject, experimenting with all kinds of lighting conditions. So, case closed. Digital is better. End of discussion. Or is it? Digital meant I never had to worry about losing a shot or running out of exposures, But that also made me sloppy. I new I could easily delete any image, I could snap away and get something usable, and my images suffered accordingly. I became a vacation snap shot shooter... less interested in making a statement and more interested in just recording whatever was in front of me. The reality was, I wasn't using digital to its full potential. I had to relearn the art of photography using new tools that changed the way I created images. And that was my failing, not the failing of digital imaging. With digital, I can now afford to take every angle of view, change lenses, experiment with ISO, shutter, and aperture, all without feeling limited. But I have to actually do this, not just shoot away in hopes that something will happen. That's the biggest issue I have with digital photography. It's very ease of use makes it too easy to stop caring about creating images. Those of us who learned with film must relearn image making when turning to digital. It's not the same thing. So, case closed. Digital is better. I mean, film is better. No wait, something is better, isn't it? Not really. Film is film and digital is digital. Both can be magnificent in their own right, but both have their limitations too. I can get students to really think with film, but it takes up so much time. On the other hand, I keep having to get students back on track with digital, but the potential is there to experiment without fear. When you first learn photography, you are sloppy, wanting to take images right away and see what you have. You don't have the experience to realize the pitfalls of being sloppy, so digital photography can become a hindrance. You need to learn control, and film gives you that, but it also limits your experimentation and creativity, the very thing digital image making provides. If you can’t take control of the experience, you’re like a rocket with no guidance system — all power but no direction. Film makes you slow down, and slowing down gives you a great guidance system, but, at least for me, I feel I'm missing out somehow. I just can't do everything I want to try to do. Digital gives me the power to experiment and helps me feel like I'm not missing a great shot somewhere, but it doesn't provide the best guidance system when doing so. I need to make that happen. In the end, you need experience. Experience is what guides us to be better photographers... not film, not digital, not cameras or lenses or darkrooms or software or whatever else we come across. With experience, we create our guidance system, ant that is what improves our photography. So, film is better and digital is better... but experience is best. Case closed. 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. I've been thinking a lot about digital imaging these days and how it compares with the chemistry days of photography. Anyone who has read my journal posts (is anyone reading them?) know I lost heart for a long time when digital took over the photography world. That experience changed me in a lot of ways, not always for the better. But with the passage of time, and a lot of soul searching, I have found digital imaging to be a wonderful way to communicate my vision and thoughts photographically.
It may not appear so, but the way we work with digital images has a lot in common with how we used to work with film. There are the technical aspects of course, shutter speeds and apertures still control the amount of light and the effect one gets in an image... it's just on an electronic sensor instead of a silver film base. We still use light-tight boxes (cameras) and optical focus devices (lenses) to capture the scene, and we still need to somehow develop these images to view them. Of course, we don't need to stand in a darkened room smelling chemicals and getting stained clothes as we process film or create prints, but we are still "developing" when we color balance or edit our images with computer software. There is one great difference I have found that is beneficial to the photographic process, at least for me. Without the burden of spending countless hours processing film and printing in the darkroom, I find myself more focused on the thinking behind capturing and creating an image at the actual time of creation... in the field. This may seem counter intuitive to those that believe the image is created in the darkroom or on the computer as it seems reasonable to believe the more time spent editing, the more you are interpreting an image. Although I agree that does happen, I don't believe ALL creation comes from this post processing phase. Regardless of how long you take or your expertise in the editing process, the foundations of what you have to work with are set when you capture the image on film or with sensor, and the more you have to work with, the greater the result can be. 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! If anything, photography is about communication and about interpreting. It's about feeling, about emotion, about understanding, not chemistry and sensors. 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. In my last post, I was talking about the Pinhole Pro and my efforts to find proper exposures when using it. So this time I'm going to review the actual images. I decided to begin with the smallest aperture (0.10) to see what kind of image was possible having to use a longer exposure. The first image I took had something blocking the view, but I couldn't find anything in the way of the pinhole that would cause it. At first, I thought it might be the UV filter attached to the front, but then realized it was the engagement ring being out of alignment. You have to be careful to engage the ring exactly right or you will block some of the image. Notice the left image has a black shadow on the right side. This is not an exposure issue, but rather it is part of the edges of the pinhole blocking the field of view. After readjustment, you can see there is nothing blocking the scene in the right image. This was not a major issue... it just means I have to be careful to engage the aperture ring properly. The images themselves are fairly sharp for something that has no lens elements. The statuary is close to the camera and everything seems to retain the same amount of sharpness throughout, which is expected with a pinhole. The exposure is slightly different, but that was most probably the outside light changing from one exposure to the next. Since the apertures for both images remained the same, there should be no exposure difference otherwise. Color balance is, as far as I can tell, spot on, which I was not expecting. I thought there might be a shift due to diffraction from the small aperture. The image was taken in a shady area on a sunny day, so an exposure at I.S.O. 200 at 1/250 of a second would need an f/stop of f/8 using a lens. The 0.10 aperture is about f/512, which means I need a +12 stop exposure compensation. This meant my exposure time was 16 seconds. Interestingly enough, I didn't seem to have an issue with reciprocity failure, which I was also expecting. Not sure if that has anything to do with digital vs. film or not, but the exposure time didn't have to be adjusted, which was fine with me! My next set of images shows a scene with a wider view using each aperture and their resulting effects. These images should expand when you click on them, so you can look at them in greater detail. The image is the side of a garage with an outdoor patio swing in a yard. Very exciting... not. But it serves its purpose. I wanted to use a wider view to see if there was any apparent change in sharpness near to far. The day was bright and sunny, so an exposure at I.S.O 200 at 1/250 of a second would need f/16 for a proper exposure. This meant the 0.80 aperture would need 4 stops of extra exposure, or 1/15 of a second. Each image needs twice more exposure than the last (except the 0.25 pinhole, which remains the same as the 0.30 aperture - see The Pinhole Pro post for a short explanation). The longest exposure was 4 seconds while using the 0.10 pinhole.
Each image retains the same relative sharpness throughout the scene, and again, this is expected when using pinholes instead of a lens. Another thing to note is the obvious change in sharpness as you go from the largest 0.80 aperture and decrease the size. Again, this would be expected as a larger aperture would result in shorter exposure times but less sharpness throughout. Keep in mind everything here is judged by a visual inspection of the images on a computer screen and I was using my camera equipment, not yours, so your results may differ. Understand also that "sharpness" is a relative term, and images of greater contrast are often seen as "sharper" than low contrast ones, so again... your mileage may vary! The 0.30 aperture is slightly lighter than the 0.80, 0.50, and 0.35 images, but remember that I round off exposure times to make things simple when I am out in the field. It is possible I overexposed by 1/3 stop or so, or it could have been the outdoor light of the scene changed for that exposure. The 0.20, 0.15, and 0.10 images are progressively lighter, but I am inclined to think that could have been a change of lighting in the scene and rounding off the exposure times. Just a guess, but I'm going with it. It was interesting to see how much sharper images got as I decreased the pinhole size, but you will note that the 0.10 image is actually slightly less sharp that the 0.15 pinhole image. This could very well be a result of diffraction from such a small aperture. There does seem to be some flare in the image, which would reduce contrast and relative sharpness. I am thinking of creating images of a close up scene using just the smaller apertures to see what results. I would assume I should get similar results, but you never know. Overall, I am very pleased with the Pinhole Pro. It's nice to use some old school technology on a new millennium instrument. If anyone else has purchased a Pinhole Pro, or has created a pinhole for their digital camera, I'd love to hear from you and get your input. If I find any more interesting observations, I'll let you know. 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! 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. |
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December 2018
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