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.
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Just received my Pinhole Pro… a multiple aperture pinhole that attaches to my Fuji X-T1 like a lens. I bought it through a Kickstarter page, but it's now available through Thingyfy. I have always had a great interest in pinhole photography… my Masters thesis was all about it. But as with all things, I got busy with other projects in my life and haven’t explored pinholes for years. The Kickstarter campaign gave me an excuse to start again in the digital age. Sure, I could have bought a body cap and created my own pinhole, but the clean lines and multiple apertures of the Pinhole Pro intrigued me. And at $50, who could say no?
So what is this product anyway? Well, according to the Thingyfy specs, it's an anodized aluminum alloy body with a focal length of 50mm, it comes in multiple camera mounts (Canon, Nikon, Sony, etc.), and has a ring of multiple apertures, from 0.10 to 0.80 in size. The camera meter doesn't work with the Pinhole Pro attached, so I needed to consider exposing images without it. I had to determine the f/stop for each of the apertures and convert that into an exposure time. The first issue… was it actually 50mm? I have a mirrorless APS-C camera, and I was unsure if the 50mm body size was actually 50mm on my Fuji. It has been a long while since I had to think of film planes and nodal points, and, honestly, I’ve forgotten more that I remember. I knew that angle of view equivalents to 35mm (full frame) were about 1.5 times for APS-C. Would that mean the length converted to 75mm or 33mm? Or did it matter… 50mm is 50mm. Ah, the trials and tribulations of getting old and addled. I finally decided it was all rather moot… I just had to go out and take some test images. But me being me, I wanted to know at least an approximate exposure time. So I make a quick chart based on the sunny f/16 rule. You know the one… subject lit by a bright sunny day should be exposed at f/16 at a shutter speed equivalent to the reciprocal of the film speed. Everyone knows that, right? So anyway… my I.S.O. was 200, which meant my exposure was close to 1/250th of a second. All I had to do was find out the f/stop for each aperture. Easy. Taking the 50mm length and dividing that by the apertures sizes gave me the following, rounded to the nearest one-third f/stop: 0.80 = f/64 0.50 = f/102 0.35 = f/114 0.30 = f/160 0.25 = f/204 0.20 = f/228 0.15 = f/320 0.10 = f/512 So, on an f/16 day (subject in bright sun) at I.S.O. 200, my exposure times in seconds would be: 0.80 = 1/15 (+4 stops) 0.25 = 1/2 (+7 stops) 0.50 = 1/8 (+5 stops) 0.20 = 1 (+8 stops) 0.35 = 1/4 (+6 stops) 0.15 = 2 (+9 stops) 0.30 = 1/2 (+7 stops) 0.10 = 4 (+10 stops) Notice the 0.30 and 0.25 exposures are the same (1/2 second, or +7 stops). This is because I’m rounding everything off to the shutter speeds I have on my camera. Cameras with 1/3 shutter speeds, (and very picky photographers behind them!), can be exposed more accurately. But let’s face it, this is a pinhole we’re talking about, and I’ve already "techified" it enough. It was time to go take some real photos… But that’s for next time. In the last post, I said it was time to broaden my horizons, photographically speaking. I also mentioned outlining a plan on how this might happen. So for what it's worth, here's a plan for change.
1. Comfort isn't all it's cracked up to be I tend to photograph the landscape, not because of its beauty or the challenges of photographing in the wild (anyone who knows me knows that isn't true!). No, I do it because I don't have to deal with people. Trees don't interrupt, mountains don't move about. It is comfortable to be on my own, not having to deal with other human issues. It is an escape from day to day frustrations, and that's not a bad thing, but it's also an escape from everything, and that is dangerous. To escape from everything is to hide from everything, and that can leave one empty and alone. It's time to experience life in all its diversity by leaving the comfort zone of landscapes. 2. Letting go of absolutes I am stuck in my ways, partly due to my age, but also because I've ALWAYS been stuck in my ways! Taking time to understand how others think and feel can open my eyes to the fallacy of absolutes. For instance, when I was younger, I placed the black and white image on a pedestal, Nikon was the best camera, film would never die. These were absolute truths, unchanging, unyielding, and the right view. Look at me now... I shoot digital color (and black and white), I use a Fuji camera (and an iPhone), and I don't shoot film (in over a decade)! These changes came about not because I necessarily wanted them to, but because I had stagnated, gotten lost, had stopped photography altogether. This happens when you are not open to the idea that change is a part of life... in fact, change is life. Nothing is permanent, everything changes. It's time to embrace those changes, to let go of what I believe is true, of what I think the way things are supposed to be. 3. Connection is paramount When I'm on my own, I'm comfortable, but I lose that connection with humanity that is so important to life itself. Without that connection, I become isolated and detached from humanity. I become ignorant about how other people live and interact with the world. That's how you get old and disconnected from what is, preferring a made up world that is safe and generic, one I don't want to live in. The grass was NOT greener "back when"; building walls does not protect your way of life; living in isolation leads to fear of anything that isn't you. This disconnection results in lost opportunities -- making a connection with others -- learning and sharing knowledge and experience. It is up to me to make those connections, and in so doing, appreciate their understanding of our world. 4. Accept the validity of the other view Others have different realities than mine, which have led them to views I may not agree with. I strive to be open minded, not categorizing everything as either right or wrong, and try to accept the alternative view as a legitimate one. To open oneself to that possibility is the first step towards understanding that the world is not made up of what I decide it's made up of. That is not to say I have to agree with the view, since views are formed from experiences, and those change from person to person. But I do need to accept that someone can reach a different view than mine because of those experiences, and accept that view as a valid one. This opens up avenues of understanding new ideas and realities. 5. Communication has a purpose To experience life in all its infinite combinations shapes who we are and who we can become. To create images that communicate that experience shapes the world we live in and what it can become. This is what it means to communicate with purpose. Improving one's photographic practice can lead to better communication, while listening, learning and accepting other views creates connections that can be powerful and long lasting. This in turn makes our photography more powerful, allowing us to capture a moment that not only records, but communicates with purpose. This is the road I have walked on all my life, even when I did not realize it, and hope to expand on as I connect to the world that is and the one that can be. Will I succeed or fail? By taking a first step is already succeeding, and that can lead to vistas never imagined. I plan to be there to photograph them! 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! 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. Photography has gone through quite a few changes in the last quarter of a century.
Back in 1992 I was teaching black and white photography at a community college. That means darkrooms, chemistry, and film for those that can't remember a time without the Internet. Back then, there were digital contraptions we laughed at because of their bulkiness, their expense, and the horrid images they produced. No way was digital even approaching what chemical photography could do. And we were right... at least in 1992. Jump five years to 1997 and there were now little digital cameras that we still laughed at because of their expense and the amateur images they produced. It would take decades before digital could be used for professional work... or so we thought. Jump just another five years to 2002. Who was laughing now? By this time, professional cameras like the Nikon D100 and the Canon EOS 1D were out and film was losing ground... and fast. These cameras were more than adequate to handle professional work, and did. By 2005... not even five years later... I saw the writing on the wall, slammed my head on that wall, and left both teaching and photography for a long time. Digital had taken over and I was not prepared for that change. For me, the magic of seeing a print appear from a blank sheet of paper was gone, turned into ones and zeros and a mess of digital gibberish. I could not see myself making students spending long hours in a darkroom when digital was obviously the future. Change for those entrenched in chemistry and film was slow, and it was time to let go. All of that said, I never hated digital imaging. It had, and still has, a lot of advantages to traditional film and chemical photography. There was no standing around bored as you processed film, no long hours in the dark printing, no chemical smell on your clothes when you got home. Slide presentations could now be created quickly and professionally with software -- gone were the days of tedious hours creating title slides for presentations that had to be shown on a screen in an unlit room. The greatest advantage to digital, at least with how I see the world, is its ability to show a visual representation of how people think, what goes through their mind, what kinds of things interest them. Because of the long hours it took to create images chemically, many images just didn't see the light of day. With the advent of the digital imaging and the vehicle of the Internet, it is now possible to see hundreds of images by the same person, and that allows us to see into that photographers mind and their view of reality. The ease of which one can create a photographic image to communicate with has great power, and this has allowed digital imaging to become one of the most interesting ways to see how a society reflects upon itself. But I also began to realize something more personal was going on. There was a shift on how I worked with my images, something that I would have never given up when I shot film, but now find somewhat redundant. But I'll get to that in the next post. By now you may have noticed I am more interested in why we do what we do rather than in the technical aspects of how we do what we do. There are a lot of places you can go on the Internet that have explanations of software and technique, but far fewer discussions on the meanings behind our images. This might be because writing a step-by-step process, although sometimes tedious, is not necessarily difficult. You have a starting point, a direction, a goal to complete. I know... I've written them before.
Once we need to discuss how we feel about something, things get murky and more personal. Think about the last time someone asked you why you shot in black and white, or why you shot that dead bird or crack in the wall (after 30 years, my wife still asks me that). Not so easy to come up with an answer, is it? How do you explain how you feel, how you experience? Our images hint towards our innermost sentiments and how we think the world works. They are not to be taken lightly, and as such, can be difficult to explain. Our assumptions about the world move us towards making certain kinds of images, and our feelings change how that world appears. To communicate photographically, we need to see how these assumptions change our images in the process. If I am uncomfortable (let's say its really cold outside while I'm trying to take a landscape shot), I tend to rush so I can get somewhere warm, and end up with less than stellar results. That in turn gets me upset, and things just go from bad to worse. But if I'm wearing a warmer coat and the cold isn't affecting me as much, I tend to enjoy what I'm doing and the exact same scene ends up as a magical moment. My perception of cold altered my view and in turn altered my photography. How do we control our perceptions in such a way as to not color our world? In short, we don't. We will always perceive the world is some fashion... that's what makes our images different from all the other images out there. If we didn't view the world differently, we would see nothing but the exact same portrait angles, the same snowscapes, the same product shots. Sure, sometimes it does feel we are seeing the same images again and again (especially in the age of "look what I'm eating today"), but for the most part we really do see some amazing images out there. And if we look at their backstory, the reasoning behind making the images, we realize they are a view into the mind of the photographer that created them. The problem, as I see it, is the number of images taking up our precious time. Social media -- advertising on multiple cable channels -- the ease of which images may be produced -- all have contributed to our need to walk away from studying what we are looking at. We look at an image for a split second, decide if it is worth our time, then walk away. This isn't really new, of course. I read somewhere that the average time someone looks at a painting in a museum is something under 30 seconds. For some viewers, that might be a generous estimate. Because we are all rushing about, we miss a great deal of the communication going on around us. By slowing down our viewing time, we can connect with the photographer and see how their mind works, how their perceptions color the world. A photograph is not to be viewed in a moment just because it was captured in a moment. Thought and emotion was put into its creation, and those qualities can be transmitted to the viewer if they take the time to let it happen. So what do we do when we take the time to look? We could, for instance, consider the compositional features of a photograph, but I find I tend to stop at that if I don't like what I see. The way I compose an image may not be the way another photographer does, and that jars with my sense of reality, so I ignore everything else. Instead, I would suggest thinking about what emotional responses we have to an image, and by an image, I mean ANY image. We often do not realize we are having a response to an image unless it is something like "oh that's a beautiful landscape / portrait / wedding shot (insert whatever image you happen to really like here)". If the image is something other than that, something we don't get an immediate response to, we fail to realize there is an emotion there, just not as strong or obvious. By taking some time to focus on our emotional response, we can lead ourselves down a path towards appreciating the art we see. That crack in the wall might be a statement of the decay of society; the dead bird becomes a view into the fragility of life; clouds become wild horses, the play of light and shadow the mysteries of things yet to come. Take time to perceive the world through another's eyes. You may be surprised at what you find. If you are a photojournalist, you are concerned with conveying the message that what you photograph is a real event and happening in the moment. Adding crowds at a rally to make it seem more populist or changing the relative position of items in an image would be unacceptable, but minor color corrections would probably not be a problem (unless the color cast is an integral part of the scene). Wedding or product photographers, on the other hand, have a lot more freedom to move and edit items as necessary, as long as it supports their clients needs.
Things start getting a little trickier when photographing landscapes or working with street photography. It isn't photojournalism, per se, so would some editing be acceptable or is any editing too much editing? To answer this question, we need to think about how editing will affect the final presentation of the image. What exactly are we trying to communicate with our photograph? Are we there to accentuate the scene or record it faithfully? The colors of a sunset on a snowcapped mountainside may not need color enhancement as the whole point is to see the amazing view that the photographer recorded. But what if there was a heavy shadow with a cold blue color cast that detracted from the scene? If a viewer's eye keeps going to the shadow and not the mountain, should it be color corrected? What if a tree was distracting? If removing it completely would strengthen the composition, is that be acceptable? Although many may disagree, if I am at a location to communicate what I experienced, and that experience doesn't include a cold blue cast or a distracting tree, then I can guarantee I'll be busy color correcting and removing distractions from my images! I am there to experience, and I want the viewer to experience the same. My objective isn't faithfulness to reality, but faithfulness to the feelings and emotions I had when viewing the scene. In the end, a two-dimensional image is never real, even if you are a photojournalist. The very act of positioning your camera at a certain angle or at a specific place and time will change the meaning of the image, however unintentional. But it is understood that photojournalists are taking images of events that shape history, be they war or political rally, and by their very nature should be photographed as neutrally as possible on their part. A wedding, the landscape, a street view, however important, do not have that constraint. If editing is necessary to convey the experience, the image will be edited. How much editing is acceptable is really up to the photographer, since it is their image in the first place, and the viewer, because their opinion on the matter may decide if they find the image acceptable. I am not a photojournalist so I have no problems editing an image, as long as I am creating the qualities and emotions I'm trying to convey in that image. Painters add or subtract whatever they need, modify their color palette for effect or completely ignored reality in their attempts to imagine the abstract through their art. There is no reason to think photography can't do the same and it is high time photographers realize the freedom they have to do so. Even so, I do not heavily edit my images by adding a more interesting sky or shifting colors dramatically. It just isn't in me to do so. But that doesn't mean it isn't in you. |
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