To edit or not to edit, that is the question. Well, maybe not the only question, but it is a fair question to ask.
Unlike most media, photography is perceived as being a record of reality, and as such, should not be messed with. Many photographers believe their images are untouchable and editing somehow removes the immediacy and reality of the image. And I get that. The reason I love photography is because I feel I'm somehow capturing reality on film... or on a digital media card, as the case may be! Traditionally, photography has been very different from the other arts. A painter, for instance, can decide to ignore an object if it doesn't fit the composition or the idea they are trying to convey. Sculptors create from a block of material, many times without anything to go by. Michelangelo is credited with saying: "Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it." I wish I had great quotes like that! A photographer, at least from the days of film, was limited by what they saw and could capture on film. They had some options as to color bias or even removing color altogether by shooting in black and white, but the scene itself was what it was. Burning and dodging areas was acceptable since it was difficult to record the great contrast ranges of the natural environment, but it was a herculean task to remove a distracting branch or fill in a blank space in the sky with a cloud. When artists like Ansel Adams began created majestic views of the landscape, seemingly pristine and unspoiled, the idea of editing became more and more frowned upon. It just wasn't done. With the advent of digital imaging, it became possible to edit to an extraordinary degree. Movies became special effects wonders (sometimes to the detriment of the story line); photographs could be manipulated to show long dead celebrities in contemporary settings (sometimes to the detriment of history); objects were removed or replaced, lighting effects changed, colors manipulated to show sunsets where there had been none. In many ways, editing is seen as something done for drama but not for "real" images, as it makes them more and more disconnected from the reality associated with the taking of a photograph. So the question is one of degree -- It isn't if we should edit, but how much editing is acceptable. It boils down to understanding what are we doing when we edit an image. For various technical reasons, digital images need sharpening and color balancing. Most would accept this as needed editing since the technology requires it to faithfully record a scene. But what of specific types of photography? What editing is acceptable in these instances? In Part 2, I try to answer this question!
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I was browsing the Internet, as one seems to do when bored, and found a site for Michael Kenna. He is known for his very long photographic exposures when creating his amazing silver gelatin images — no digital for him! Visiting his site reminded me of a young man, just starting to explore photography, who took a leap of faith and enrolled in a workshop with both Michael Kenna and the much missed Ray McSavaney. Damn, that was a long time ago!
I looked at his work (like "Ten Balloons, Albuquerque, New Mexico"), which got me thinking of my old work, why I first fell in love with the photographic process and why I am still passionate about black and white photography in the era of digital imaging. The memories were so strong, I actually took the time to send an email to him, letting him know how much that workshop inspired me and helped make me the man I am today. And you know what? He responded! I was floored. He spoke of his love of photography and that he was at that moment on the top of a mountain in China waiting for the late afternoon light. Now that's impressive. It seems to me this is what photography is about... the passion of vision, the meaning behind the act. In my mind I see the play of light and shadow, white birch trees standing out from a darkened wood, the texture of a stone filled landscape, the diffused light streaming down the mountainside. And I sing. May the late afternoon light of China sing to you. What’s Interesting? That is a good question, especially when we go out with our camera and start creating images. What is interesting depends on so many factors. We are passionate about certain things — travel, family, landscapes, composition, color, emotion — the list is endless. So how do we decide what we should shoot?
We could consider traveling to exotic locales to see the rare or the unusual… always seeking something to capture the imagination, to see the other. Or we might find ourselves at home, fascinated by the falling leaves and the pattern they make on the snow covered ground, seeing the other right in our backyard. In the studio, we could arrange the model or the product just so, creating a path for the eye to follow, making the subject stand out, be different, be the other. I keep using that term, “the other”, but what is it? Oftentimes, we walk around in a kind of haze — everything around us is common, the same, not the other. We are stuck in a rut of looking at the expected, and the expected becomes boring. We’ve been there, done that, so what’s the point of photographing it? *Sigh* I’m getting bored just writing this. I quite often find myself in a state of ennui, a feeling of listlessness, of dissatisfaction, what Buddhists might call Dukkha. I have a sense of unsatisfactoriness, where things are not quite right, and unfortunately, this leads to being disconnected with the moment I find myself in. Somehow I expect to go out and find that magic image, that thing that I can capture that makes the day worthwhile. When I don’t find it, I think my time is wasted, and that is one horrible feeling. We all do this at some point… we can’t find a challenge or a spark or a moment of insight, and we just stop, close down, become disappointed that nothing is going on. The reality is, everything is going on, 24 hours a day, all week, all year. We just don’t notice most of it. Our expectations get in the way of our seeing. There is a cloud in front of us, a fog of doubt or fear that makes us demand something interest us. When we go out to create an image, whether that is in the studio, on the street, or in the middle of the desert, something — anything — must pop up and amaze us with its photographic possibilities. The world doesn’t work that way. It isn’t there to pop up and astound us with its beauty, its rarity, its uniqueness. It’s up to us to see the world as it is — to see the beauty in a fallen leaf, to find the rarity in the eyes of a smiling child, to realize the world itself is one freakin’ unique place. I have been playing around with my iPhone recently… you might have noticed I now have a “Smartphone” folder with a few images in it. I was sitting in my back yard, night had fallen, and I could see the clouds moving swiftly in the sky. I thought, what the hell, and popped out the camera phone and started shooting. Needless to say, images were dark and difficult to see, but there was something there. At the time, I couldn’t tell what, but I was intrigued. The next day, I looked at those images, but was still unsure of what I was looking at. What the hell WAS I looking at? Dark images of clouds. Really? Was I just pretending that I shot something interesting? Was I just fooling myself, thinking that if I shot it, there must be something meaningful there? I couldn't tell what was going on or why I was playing with my damn phone. I had to get to a point where I was letting go of what I expected to see, let go of how I was supposed to create images... and that was one hard step. I remembered that you could modify images in the iPhone — lighten them, change colors to prearranged settings, crop and change angles. Well, I said to myself, these are ‘just’ iPhone images… they have no importance, so might as well alter them to my hearts content. Notice what happened there… I decided that if an image had no importance I could experiment and rip it to shreds and nothing would be lost. How wrong I was — not that something could be lost — but that the images had no importance. ALL images have importance… we just don’t see it and so disregard this importance, ignore the images, throw them away. But what I found was those simple editing settings enhanced what I knew was there instinctively… images that made a statement, communicated, were important. It didn’t matter that I was letting software make these edits… what techniques you end up using aren't the important bit. It’s the journey itself, the journey of discovery that makes life interesting. So “the other” isn’t a specific place or an important event, it isn't a masterful studio setup, a hard learned technique or purchased software driven automation… it’s the magic of realizing that each moment in time is different from another, and this difference is meaningful. Instead of trying to seek out and capture somewhere else, some other way, something totally different from what we are used to, instead of getting bogged down or depressed or stuck in the common events of our lives, we need to realize these events are unique to our perception, and the simplest things, a rose recently planted, the aisles in a grocery store, the dog just sitting there, are all important in their own way. If we start seeing the world as unique, each moment becomes unique, and that opens up the possibility of communicating that moment in our images in our own unique way. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately... always a dangerous proposition! Since discovering the digital camera of my dreams (see my previous post Equipment: Camera Body), I have been exploring the use of digital imaging and realizing it is in many ways different from film processes. Well, that sounded sort of obvious, didn't it! What I mean, it is different in hidden ways that you don't even realize can be different.
Aside from obvious differences — no film — no chemistry — no darkroom, there are ways of using digital capture that were too difficult or not even possible with film processes. For instance, the way we use exposure variables such as f/stop, shutter speed, and light sensitivity, or ISO (for extra points... what does ISO stand for?). And by the way, you pronounce it EYE--ESS--OH, not EYE--SO! In a complete aside from this post, I thought I better explain why I always say f/stop instead of aperture. If you have no interest, jump to the next paragraph! The f/stop is a ratio between the focal length of a lens and the size of the aperture (the hole) that lets the light through. So at f/2 on a 50mm lens, we have a 25mm aperture. But for the same f/2 on a 100mm lens, I would need an aperture of 50mm. So I tend to say f/stop when I'm talking about ratios, and aperture when I'm talking about the actual size of the hole. There really isn't any problem in using these terms interchangeably in photography. Photographers tend to know what you're talking about. But non-photographers may get confused with all the different terminology so I tend to get a little more specific when I can. Like I said, this whole paragraph is a complete aside and not that relevant. Got it? Good. But I'm still not putting up with EYE--SO! :-) With film, the ISO is set when you buy it, so this variable remains constant for that roll. So we work with the amount of light reaching the film, which can vary by how large a hole we choose to use (set by the lenses f/stop) and how long that hole remains open to expose the film (set with the cameras shutter speed). Exposure decisions are based on the light source illuminating our subject and we set f/stop and shutter speed accordingly. This is not the case with digital imaging. The sensor in the camera has some amount of light that exposes it, so you could think of it as having a sensitivity to light equivalent to a specific ISO (if you want more technical detail on ISO in the digital age, I liked the answer by Dave Haynie on QUORA). My Fuji X-T1 has 200 as its lowest ISO, while other cameras may be set at 100 or possibly lower. Cameras can have the ISO set at some maximum number (ISO 51,200 for the X-T1), but that introduces unthinkable amounts of noise in the image. The point is, I can change my ISO on my digital camera for each and every shot and use it as a variable when exposing an image, as long as I don't mind a little noise, something not possible with film. There are also techniques available in digital that were difficult if not impossible to do with film. For instance, focus stacking. This technique allows me to take multiple shots of the same scene at different focusing distances to have an incredible amount of sharpness near to far in an image. This is especially interesting with macro photography and was just not a consideration when shooting film. By using a High Dynamic Range (HDR) technique, I can take multiple shots of the same scene at different exposures, combine them in the computer, and have perfectly exposed skies and landscapes all in one image, something that would have taken filters and long hours of work in a darkroom when using film. And unlike the darkroom, software makes it easier to correct issues... to help blown highlights show detail, bring out unseen features in the shadows, selectively saturate or desaturate colors, all the while doing this with the simple movement of a slider (assuming I am shooting RAW images). RAW images are like having a negative that I can manipulate in the darkroom, but the darkroom in this case is a sunlit room and a computer, a nice comfy chair, my chai tea at my side, and no funky chemistry smell. Heaven! With more flexible exposure variables available and with the advent of lossless software manipulation, I can concentrate on what photography is really about... creating images that communicate. So this brings me to the whole point of this post... rethinking how we teach photography to new users (Really? Eight paragraphs just to get to this? I warned you my thinking was a dangerous proposition!). In the past, we taught in black and white darkrooms and spent inordinate amounts of time dealing with mixing chemistry properly, worrying about underexposing negatives (which were next to impossible to save) and basically being inundated with technical issues. These were important because any mistake in the field was compounded in the darkroom. When I taught photography, I belabored the point with my students by explaining photography was like no other art. 'Just think...', I would say, '...what it would be like if a painter was out painting a scene in opposite colors from what they saw, then came into the studio and had to paint the scene all over again with the proper colors.' That is what happens with film photography. We expose our film at some location, then have to process it properly, then have to go into the darkroom and expose again when printing. No wonder we were obsessed with every technical aspect and every decision we made. Any misstep and we had to start all over again! Digital imaging has freed us from a lot of that obsession. I'm not implying we can ignore exposure or properly working with our tools, but we don't have to be so preoccupied that we lose site of image creation. With digital imaging, I can really let go and think about why I am taking a photograph, what I'm trying to communicate, consider composition and form and texture and color combinations and just create create create! It's like a load of worry has lifted from my psyche and the pure pleasure of just being there has returned. Believe me when I say I truly love understanding all about inverse square law and basic daylight exposure and dealing with scene contrast issues. But if these things get in the way of creating images instead of enhancing the experience, they become a barrier, not a support. And for too long this barrier has been blocking our view. It's time to tear down this wall! In all my years of teaching, I laid foundations for the photographic process by burning technical aspects into the minds of my students. Composition and creation was something that came later in the semester, after rolls of film had been exposed and processed in an attempt to get the exposure down pat. It was frustrating for me when I was learning photography and it was frustrating for my students. They spent all their time exposing image after image of technically correct but lifeless work. The pleasure they had for creating images got lost in all the technique. I realize now it is a new day, with new processes and new equipment and new ways of creating images. Let me be clear... Digital photography is NOT film photography with a sensor instead of film, with software replacing the darkroom and chemistry. It is a different animal altogether, and should be approached as such. If someone came to me and asked me to develop a way to teach photography, I would propose the following: 1. Talk about why we want to photograph in the first place What makes you want to take pictures, as opposed to paint or write, or dance or just look at stuff? The reasons why we photograph are just as important as the photography itself. If we don't know why we are doing something, it isn't necessarily bad, but it does show there is a weakness, and we can improve upon this in time. If we know exactly why we want to photograph, we need to realize that sets up a limit to what we are willing to do. There's a great Buddhist quote I believe applies to any learning... In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities; in the expert's there are few. In the beginning there are so many avenues we can take, it can sometimes be confusing, but it we go too far, we close down those possibilities and end up nowhere. 2. Looking versus Seeing It is important to understand what it is to look at something but not really see it. We need to be able to distinguish what makes something a thing to photograph, and why we choose not to photograph other things. We need to think about what the real subject of an image is, and why it has meaning. You don't want me to count the times I go and photograph a place, come back home, and find someone else's photograph and exclaim "why the hell didn't I see that?!?". The real reason is I was looking and not seeing; I was not in the moment, I was somewhere else; I wasn't focused on image creation, I was unfocused on everything else. 3. Explain how YOUR specific camera works My camera makes an image just like yours. A cell phone does that, and so does the most expensive camera on the market. But each has its own design that influences how it makes images. To make sense of camera operation, we cannot be generic, demonstrating by handout or by using our own personal equipment. It is important to work with the camera being used by each student so they understand the limitations and advantages of their own equipment. I would cover how to set f/stop, shutter speed and ISO and, in the simplest of terms, what they are for; how to set priority modes and program settings; and how to autofocus the lens. That's it. The rest of the technical stuff can come later. Now I know there are people out there cringing... what about the proper lens, how and when to use flash, the difference between JPEG and RAW, and so on and so on and so on. None of these things is vital to producing your first images. So what if mistakes are made? Mistakes are natures way of telling you in no uncertain terms (and very quickly I might add) to not do that again! By swamping a beginner with vast amounts of technical detail, we run the very high risk of losing the very motivations and inspirations they have to create photographic images in the first place. 4. Talk about Composition This is all the stuff that makes the image more than just a record. I mean, my drivers license has a photo of me on it, but I sure don't want it on my wall! Instead of talking about specific technical rules and regulations, we need to focus on broader categories — the relationship between the foreground and background; guiding viewers eyes within the image; working with shape, texture and color; creating form from light and shadow; and changing emphasis with shallow or deep focus. "Wait!", you say... Where's the rule of thirds, the "don't cut off limbs" rule, using an odd number of subjects, changing your viewpoint, and a host of other rules that I can't remember and don't care about listing anyway? The reality is, at least in the beginning, there are a lot of things to remember just to get out there and shoot. Adding a host of rules just makes it all the more complicated and we again lose site of why we are out there in the first place — say it with me — creating images that communicate. 5. Finding Your Photography Start looking at everything you photograph. What is a common theme? Are they vacation shots? Are they full of people or mainly landscapes? Do you shoot at low or high angles? Do you tend to orient your images vertically or horizontally? Do you convert everything to black and white or do you manipulate colors to create a mood? In other words... how do you communicate? Knowing how you communicate tells you what you are communicating and if that communication is getting through to others. That one lesson makes all those rules make sense, and once they do, it's easy to apply them and strengthen your communication skills through your images. 6. Tech Talk Now that we have a direction our photography is taking, we can get into more specifics about other technical issues. Note these details are AFTER we are taking photographs regularly and have a feel for what photography means to us. This is the time I find students getting interested in upping their game and wanting to go beyond the basics. We can discuss lens types, filters, white balance, histograms, dynamic range, and a host of other topics that really need some background in photography to understand. 7. Relax — Let go — Communicate Time to show our images and discuss successes and misses. Let's look at other work and see how it compares to what we do. That might mean other student photography or going to a museum and looking at paintings or walking around town and seeing how architectural forms affect the world that surrounds them. Anything that gives inspiration can be related to our photography — and should be! Did you notice something missing? I never spoke of image manipulation or software or editing. To me, that is post-processing, and although that is really important, I find too many people obsess over it to the point where they aren't thinking about their photograph in the moment. They are somewhere else, mainly thinking about software, and — at least in the beginning — this is a distraction. Let it go. Yes, I get it... thinking about how we can manipulate a scene later can be very important in our image making, but at first I believe it gets too technical and clouds our vision. We think in terms of "fixing" an image instead of capturing the moment. I would rather have a few more failures at first if it means I am really thinking about communication and why I use photography to do so. That's where the magic is, not in post-processing (although that really seems magical at times!). If we are not present in the moment, I don't care how much we post-process... we have lost something in the translation. At the very least, we weren't there when we were there! If we are going to be somewhere, why not be THERE? I was never in the darkroom when I was out shooting. Yes, it was in the back of my mind, but that is where it belonged, not in the forefront. The secret to good photography is be there, not somewhere else. So there you go. Think I'm crazy? Let me know. I was just reading an interesting post by Valérie Jardin (What's the Deal With Mindfulness) and wrote a response, which I have copied below...
I think one of the mistakes people often make about mindfulness or "being mindful" is they think it is being aloof or set apart from the world, which is really the exact opposite of what it is all about. Mindfulness is about accepting the moment for what it is instead of trying to apply what you want the moment to be. It isn't "living" in the moment, it is "accepting" the moment, allowing it to be whatever it is. We all tend to try to make things our way, and that is the part that is unrealistic. We either try to avoid moments we don't like, sometimes trying to forcibly change it, or try to grasp at moments we really love, demanding we never have to let them go. Both ways just lead to unsatisfactory results. In photography, we should always be looking (or better yet SEEING), but allow for the possibility that we won't necessarily find what we are looking for. In that way, maybe we will find that which we were not looking for... and who knows... it might be that much more magical. Yes, there is always meditation and focusing your mind and not being a monkey mind and blah blah blah, but I find wandering to be a lot of fun... and if that is what is in the moment, why not run with it? :-D If we were constantly wandering, we may very well get lost. I mean, I sure don't want my mind wandering when I'm concentrating on driving... that could be dangerous, but wandering in and of itself isn't an issue or a problem. It just has its place as does concentrating. So how does mindfulness relate to photography? I did mention we should always be seeing rather than looking, but I always say that. So what? How does photography have anything to do with mindfulness? Is it a part of it, an integral connection, or just something we should think about? When we speak of mindfulness, we are purposefully tuning ourselves to our environment in such a way as to realize we are a part of that environment, not a separate entity disassociated and disconnected like we usually think of things being. We are "in the moment" when we accept the way things are and are not trying to force our perceptions on it. When we do this, we allow ourselves to see the world as it is and create a connection. Once this connection is made, we are able to, as photographers, create images that reflect that connection. A connection is what makes the photographic image successful, and by successful I don't mean more "likes" or more money or more fame. I mean the image is more than just a record of an event or scene or studio setup. It holds within itself the connection we have made and communicates something that is more meaningful than what is contained on the surface of the image, something that is greater than the image itself. How we reach such a state of mindfulness is not really the point. I happen to sit and stare at something for a while and think about it abstractly, then think about composition, and only then think about the light and how I am going to interpret this something I see photographically. This tends to drive my spouse batty... there he goes again, she says... I'm off to get coffee. Let me know when your free again! Other photographers might be bouncing ideas up and down and all around their heads while shooting images of quickly changing scenes, and still other photographers may be working for hours just to get the right angle, set up the right shot, choose the studio lights that best reflect the subject and concept. I have no idea how their spouses feel. All of these methods are perfectly fine. What path you choose may be very different from the one I would choose, but it doesn't make it any less mindful. As long as our wanderings aren't leading us astray (either emotionally or physically down a deep pit!) we should be fine and be successful in our image making. Social media has made it possible for us to view hundreds of casual images (see my previous post What We Photograph). These posts try to communicate with images, images, and more images... yet many have little in them that has any real and lasting communication. This is not to say the casual image is meaningless... far from it. They can capture a world from the individual point of view, a view that only a limited few would see until the advent of social media. I firmly believe that a hundred years from now, people will see our society based primarily on the social media images we choose to post today. Yet, for the most part, these images do not capture the moment as intended, or at best, present it in such a way that the meaning is lost in translation. The emotion that was felt at the time doesn’t translate well, the images lose their meaning when posted for the world to see on a tiny screen, and in essence, they were made for the person taking them at the time.
Many posit this loss in translation is due to bad technique, so we get blogs and websites posting articles like "Two camera settings that will make your images pop!" or "The one piece of equipment landscape photographers can't do without". These aren't exact quotes, but you get the idea. I read these posts and, at least for me, they seem gimmicky, more interested in equipment that will save your images from... well... bad technique. Don't get me wrong, there are always things to learn to make you a better photographer, and these posts have some great information. And although technique does matter, by boiling our thinking down to the search for the perfect setting on a camera or having that special piece of equipment we just "can't do without", we forget the entire point of why we are creating images in the first place. You don't hear a painter passionately describe the exact brush they used or the brand of paint they bought; it would astound me to hear of someone who obsessed over the kind of chisel Michelangelo used to create the Statue of David, and then ignore the masterpiece itself. Although technique makes me wonder in amazement at the expertise of the artist, it isn't the equipment or technique that really matters — it's about the journey the artist took that created such a miracle of vision; the search for those little details that make a subject something more than what it first appears to be. It's about taking the time to look carefully at the world, thinking about what we see, and then finding a way to capture that in a way a viewer can experience it too. Let's change gears for a second and think about driving a car. If I want to drive to the store to buy groceries, I need to be able to actually drive! But, if I can't, I can get a ride, use the bus, or even walk — not always the best solutions, but doable. In the end, the purpose is to get the groceries, not to do the driving. Getting back to photography, it's best to understand your camera settings, see how filters change the look of a scene, use a tripod when necessary. But, if I can't, I can use program settings on the camera, try to steady myself when I take a shot, or fix images on the computer — not always the best solutions, but doable. The techniques may create an advantage, but are not the purpose of photography. Creating images is. When I am out with my camera, I try my best to keep seeing instead of just looking. Looking is accepting something as there -- it exists and so you move on. But to see, that is so much greater. To see is to realize something caught your eye, something stood out and it mattered, even if that was only for an instant. As photographers, we try to understand why this something is meaningful, and once we do, we find a way to create an image that communicates this meaning. So ultimately, communication is the transference of meaning, and that is exactly the purpose of creating photographic images. Now, you may love my work or you may hate it. All I have to say is... GREAT! Something in the images drove you crazy or made you weep (possibly both!). It communicated in some way, and that's a good thing. I do not fear loathing, I fear indifference. When I communicate through my photography, I want to be heard. It is perfectly fine if you don’t like what you hear... it provides an opportunity for discussion and maybe even enlightenment for both of us. Case in point — I have been reading a lot about new improvements in camera phone technology and discussed this with various friends of mine. This got me interested in what the camera in my phone could do, so I started exploring. There is a sense of letting go of the camera and just looking at the world when you use this little technological marvel. You let go of all that ego about having to make things perfect the first time, then start actually seeing the world in a different way. I think this adventure will bring more clarity to my other camera work as well, and maybe I might even really start seeing the world instead of just looking at it! What a great world it would be if we didn’t shy away from the things we don’t like and instead made a point of discussing them in a human and engaging way. A lot of the worlds problems would be solved if we did. So keep on communicating, creating images, and being heard. I've been reading photography blogs lately... a lot of them. Some are purely technical, mostly concerning equipment reviews or photography techniques. Others are from professional photographers (those making money in the medium), and still others are about travel and what to photograph while you are there. All of these hold an interest for me for various reasons. I like travel. I like equipment. I like technique. But what has really interested me lately is why we photograph the things we do.
I tend to categorize photographers in one of four ways, and one can very well be any of these at a given time:
After writing this and reviewing my categories, I realized the differences are all about control, not about who is better or more qualified or makes money or, quite frankly, any other irrelevant hierarchy that attempts to "rate" the value of the photographer. There is no right or wrong path. As photographers, we capture that one moment that makes a difference, that makes a statement visually and emotionally. There may be issues with controlling the environment and the amount of preparation changes from one type of photographer to another, but in the end, it’s all about communication. While the casual photographer may not realize it, they are creating the images that people will see most often, now and in the future. With the advent of social media, we are inundated with these kinds of images and the story of our lives will most probably be seen through these lenses. Only time will tell. And there’s nothing wrong with this, taking a snapshot, grabbing the camera phone and quickly recording what is there... some amazing shots can result. This kind of photography gives a hint of an emotion, a record of a place once experienced. It isn't created to be judged on the basis of composition or lighting style, but to show you've done something and it has been recorded. I suppose people want to get “likes” on social media posts, and there is a judgement of a sort there, but for the most part we just want to record our experiences in some way, to somehow experience the moment again, and we can do that very easily now that digital cameras are everywhere. I do it all the time whenever I travel with my family. I want to remember a place and a quick shot is all I really need. Sometimes amazing shots result, but for the most part, these images are just for me to remember my experience. I'm not trying to communicate anything else to anyone else. It just makes a difference to me. I guess you could call it a “communication to self” for future reference. In a studio, the photographer is concerned with posing a model or placing objects for best effect, of lighting to reflect the mood and environment they wish to communicate. They must understand their equipment and control the environment. This takes time and patience as well as planning for just the right mood, just the right effect. The studio environment only has what the photographer brings to it, and their knowledge and attention to detail create a statement, manipulate emotions, produce a vision, seemingly from nothing. What they photograph is dependent on what subject they bring into the studio, whether a model or product or snowflake. They construct what amounts to a communication of hyper-reality, difficult to distinguish from what is apparently real, through make-up, posing, and lighting. That is their art and craft, their reason to create. In environmental photography, you often have to scout an area and see where the light falls, wait for the right time or the right season to get the shadows and the color just right. It is difficult to modify light out in the field and if you do, it has to look like you didn’t. You don’t have the luxury of studio controls... you can’t tell the sun to move a few inches to the right please! Your days may start early and end late, and you can never predict the weather or the circumstances. This takes patience and understanding, and sometimes, a little luck. The photographers vision is highly dependent on the environment they find themselves in, but also on their knowledge of that environment and how it can be photographed. Like a studio photographer, they must bring with them anything used to make the image as well as their technical expertise to control the seemingly uncontrollable. It is this sense of wonder, this non-predictability that drives their creation. Event photographers have a whole allotment of issues to deal with. They are usually outdoors like their landscape counterparts, so all those issues arise. They also have to be personable in order to communicate with their subjects who may or may not be in the mood to be photographed. They may have to deal with specific image requirements expected of them, especially if this is a paying job. They have to be constantly on the lookout for place and position, lighting and shadow, angles and activity. One wrong choice and you have a missed opportunity. If everything falls into place, in that one fleeting moment, magic happens. Their driving force is the rush of movement, the engagement of being there, capturing the mood of a time and place. Whatever personal circumstances brought us to the photographic medium, the reason we remain seems straightforward... a need to communicate our vision, to ourselves and to others. We may be in it for the money, but let’s face it... there are easier ways to make money. We may photograph to capture a moment in our lives, but the image is only a memory, the moment has past. We may want to communicate the wonders of the world, but the photograph is at best a copy, an interpretation of that wonder. With these seeming limitations, why do we photograph the things we do? I would propose that every artist, regardless of medium, has an inner drive to communicate, and the process we choose, the style we develop, and even the limits we place on ourselves, mold that communication for the world to see and experience through our art. Our medium explains the world and helps us to understand it through our photographic process. Maybe every artist is just seeking for an answer, even if unsure of the question. And maybe that is the magic of it all... I certainly hope that it is. I've had a couple of posts that deal with what art might be and why I create black and white images. This got me thinking about why I chose photography as my medium, as opposed to architecture or painting or underwater basketweaving or any number of other ways to express oneself. To begin with, I was going to be an architect. This was back in the days of mechanical pencils and vellum, rulers, triangles and drafting compasses. There was no software to plan with and certainly no personal computers to work on. Talk about old school. I loved the mechanics, but there was always something missing, or better put, there was something missing in me. I just could not grasp how to communicate what was in me with the tools at hand. There are many who can and have, but unfortunately, it wasn't for me. So I moved on and dabbled in paint, in graphic arts, in charcoal, in fibers, in metal work, but each had its drawbacks. Although I didn't realize it then, my way of communication was more immediate, more connected to what was in front of me at the moment than what was in my head. I had someone tell me recently that there are two kinds of people... those that are goal driven and those that are resource driven. I am most definitely the latter. Those that are goal driven know where they want to go and plan accordingly. Resource driven individuals don't really worry so much about where they are going... they are very comfortable whenever they get there. If they aren't, they find the resources at that time to move on. That is me in a nutshell, and that is my photography. I don't know what I am going to photograph, the inspiration happens wherever I am. Do I always succeed? Most certainly not, but I've never known a photographer who succeeds 100 percent of the time either. I make images the way I make images. It is what it is. Photography to me is a way to capture a moment, not literally, but interpreted through my thoughts and vision. This is the way I communicate. It is my interpretation of the world that creates the art through the photographic medium. I could not do this with architectural drawings, with painting, or other types of artwork. They slowed me down in a studio or the medium was a slow process in and of itself. I kept losing my way, and they didn't fit me or the way I worked. Photography was different. Shooting with a camera made me go out and find what was there, and once there, I had to interpret what I saw in the moment. I had to wait for the right moment, and once it arrived had to make the image or it would be gone. It was engaging like no other medium was and it fit my restless personality. Once I discovered photography, I began making images to capture the moment, but soon realized there was no such thing as photographing reality. Everything is an interpretation, even images that look like records of events are interpreted. My favorite photographers were the ones that made me realize what they shot was their vision even though everything was supposed to be captured in the moment. Take a look at Ansel Adams' "Mount Williamson - Clearing Storm". Amazing rock formations and heavenly light... it must have been a sight. But turn 180 degrees and you would have seen the Japanese 'War Relocation Center', full of dust and wooden structures that the Japanese Americans who were sent there had to live in. The clearing storm was real, but its photographic interpretation was no more reality that any two dimensional could be real. So what does this mean? Photography, regardless of what one may think, is never "real". It is always an interpretation of what the photographer sees, and this interpretation doesn't capture the moment so much as it captures the experience of the moment. When I photograph, I am trying to capture my experiences through the images that I take. When I transform the image with software, I am putting my vision into the work to evoke what I saw and felt at the time. When I go out and photograph, the process of taking a photo allows me to slow down a bit and appreciate the view, something hard for me to do. I am easily distracted, always jumping from thought to thought, like a bee hopping from flower to flower and never resting. I am able to be in the moment when I am creating a photograph, something I could never master with other media. I enjoy all art, but photography holds a special place, especially black and white images. Now that I have embraced the digital world, I can take my time working with my images in the comfort of my home, no longer chained to a specialized darkroom with little time to do what I love. With digital, there is the added advantage of easily exploring color image making to see where it takes me without breaking the bank. I can explore feeling and expression, playing with light in ways before unreachable due to monetary matters. This freedom of exploration is why I must photograph, why this specific way of communication fits the way I work and who I am. No other medium will do. Last time I wrote about the main camera I use when I go out and shoot. Let's see what lens I chose to go with that camera and why. Because of monetary constraints and with the realization that digital imaging is a new experience for me (coming from the film and darkroom world), I did not want to invest in numerous lenses and find out that the entire venture into digital just wasn't for me. After years with film cameras and finally having to sell them off at a loss, I was somewhat wary of moving too fast into a new world. Well, that and I'm cheap. I am sure I will expand my lens choices at some point, but for now I had to decide what kind of lens would offer me the greatest flexibility for the way I tend to make images. I shoot landscapes, which lends itself to a wider view, but also enjoy what my wife kindly refers to as my penchant to shoot dead birds and cracks in walls. What can I say... I'm an artiste. :-) At one point in history, I was forced to shoot prime lenses, which meant carrying two or three lenses with me wherever I went. At the time, zoom lens technology did not have a great zoom range nor did they result in very high quality either with edge sharpness or color shifts. A zoom lens was a bad investment and you got little return on that investment, other than the obvious advantage of only carrying one lens with you. This has changed dramatically in the intervening years. Edge sharpness is superb, the lens quality results in high color reproduction, and they have amazing ranges that far exceed the zoom range of the lenses of old. Since I was spending the money on the X-T1, it was natural to review the lenses Fuji had available. Everything I read, and have read since, has convinced me of the high quality that Fuji invests in their equipment and lenses in particular. I saw no reason to search for third party lenses when theirs was so well made. That said, although they sold a zoom lens with the body as a kit at a reasonable price, it did not have the one thing that I treasure most - a lens that does not change aperture as you zoom. It has always been frustrating having to deal with changing exposures and depth of field as I zoomed from wide fields of view to narrow ones, and I was willing to spend a little extra to avoid these issues. I was fortunate enough to find a sale on both the body and a lens, most probably in preparation for the upcoming X-T2 (although that took a while to actually appear, so maybe I was just lucky). At the time, the lens I was interested in had been selling for around $1300 to $1800 (can't quite remember the exact price), and they were offering it at $900. How could I refuse such a generous offer? The lens in question is the Fujinon XF 16-55mm f/2.8. Like I said, it has an f/stop across its zoom range, but it also has great edge to edge sharpness, which I find critically important. It is also water resistant, which couples well with the X-T1 and my need to shoot outdoors regardless of how wet it is. But my favorite feature, the one thing that makes this old photographer really happy, is its dedicated aperture ring. It took me years to find lenses for digital cameras that had this, and to be truthful, this is what attracted me to the Fuji system in the first place. As I said in an earlier post, I have issues with control dials on the backs of digital cameras and I find it so much easier to control f/stops when they are on the lens. Will I purchase other lenses in future? That depends on how I shoot. The one thing about a zoom lens is... it's big. I find it somewhat incongruous that I have reduced the size of my camera body, but increased the size of my lens. It isn't necessarily unwieldy, but it isn't inconspicuous either. I am concerned this combination may distract me from shooting. This may sound strange, but I sincerely believe your equipment affects how you see and what you end up shooting. Something small and easy to shoot lends itself to quick shooting, while larger equipment slows you down. Slowing down can be good, allowing analysis of composition and thought, but it also can lead to missed shots and opportunities. Whenever deciding on purchasing equipment, always keep that in mind. I am toying with the idea of a smaller prime lens, like the XF 14mm f/2.8 R or even in looking at another body to go with that reduction in size, something like the X-Pro2. But that is something to think about in the future. For now, I'm happy with what I've chosen. Thought I would talk a little bit about what equipment I use and why. You may think I'm doing this to sing the praises of the my stuff and to try to convince you to use it too, but it just isn't so, for many reasons. One, who am I? I don't shoot professionally anymore, and don't use my equipment until it dies from wear and tear, so there is no reason to suggest my view is somehow more informed or my experience so vast that I have more authority over other photographers out there. Two, the type of photography I prefer may not be the type you prefer, and the equipment I choose for those reasons may not be the best for your needs. Three, how I am built (more on that later) and how I approach photography is a big part of the equipment choices I make, and you will need to find equipment that adapts best to the way you shoot. If there is one takeaway from the above, it's that you shouldn't base your equipment purchases on someone else's reviews. Your needs are not necessarily their needs and their conclusions won't necessarily be the conclusions you arrive at either. So... DON'T DO WHAT I DO! Okay... now to the equipment. I'm breaking this post into many... Camera body, Lens, and so on, just for ease of reading. This first one, as you can see by the title, is about the camera body I chose that best suited my individual needs. Your mileage may vary. Camera Body Back in the ancient days of photography, where film was king and chemistry was smelly, I used a Nikon FM2 and later a Hasselblad CF. In other words, I learned photography the old fashioned way... in the dark. Apertures were on lenses, shutter speeds didn't have half or third clicks to them, and I was very happy. Then things changed. For whatever reason, when digital came along, there were some heavy equipment redesigns happening. Camera bodies became bigger and bulkier, wheels and dials started appearing in all kinds of places, and I was not happy. One of my main concerns when choosing equipment is how I am built physically. My right hand thumb doesn't hold on to things well (born that way) so the ergonomic designs were not so ergonomic for me. I simply could not hold the cameras steady and always felt I was about to drop them onto something hard and unforgiving. The control dials on the back of the camera were impossible for me to move without moving the body away from my eyes, disrupting my image making. The entire process became frustrating to the point that I was not enjoying shooting anymore. Digital was not really where I wanted it to be anyway, so I got out of photography for a long while. For years I searched for a body that hearkened back to the designs of old. Then in 2016 I found the camera of my dreams... the Fujifilm X-T1 (I get a kick how they say Fujifilm... what film? It's digital. But I digress...). This was the first digital camera I found that didn't have an obsessive need for size (it's mirrorless, so that saves a lot of space), and f/stops were on the lens that I could actually control with my left hand while adjusting shutter speeds on the top of the body with my right. I finally had a camera that I could work with again. Because it is mirrorless, I am able to carry a lighter system and still get the quality I desire. I'm not getting any younger and I like the idea of carrying around less weight. Yes, I know there are those that believe larger sensors are going to give them much higher quality, and I can't dispute the math, but I have never felt the need to print poster sized images (20x20 was about the max I ever did with my old Hassy) and I rarely if ever crop much, so the smaller sensor works perfectly for me. I just can't find any information that definitively shows that the smaller sensor loses so much detail that it is easily discernible in any reasonably sized print. There are those that will magnify their computer files 1600 percent or more and say "see... See... SEE???", and if your output requires you to make insanely large images, Fuji has a new camera you may be interested in (GFX 50S). For me and the work I do, give me the lighter body weight the APS-C size affords. Beyond that, the camera has a retro kind of feel to it that I gravitate towards naturally. It's easy to hold, easy to use, and the quality of the images are phenomenal. I am sure there are many digital cameras with similar specs to them, so don't run out and buy the X-T1 just on my say so alone. If you need to know the exact specs, click HERE. FYI... Fuji has come out with a new model (X-T2) that has even more great features, but I really see no need to update quite yet. Maybe when they come out with the X-T4 or 5 or Alpha Bravo or whatever. If you are interested in one or the other, I have to say I like what they did with the newer model, but it will cost you. I shoot a lot of landscape type shots and the smaller sensor lends itself to greater depth of field than larger sensors would, so this works very much in my favor. I have never leaned towards that dreamy out of focus look, so sharpness is something I value. You may prefer a larger sensor and even have the resources to splurge on Fuji's new GFX 50S camera, but for me, I'm happy where I'm at. Beyond that, the X-T1 has a lot of presets if you shoot JPEG based on the old Fuji films (Provia, Astia, and so on). I shoot RAW images and don't really shoot for color since I convert most everything to black and white, but I am interested in experimenting with this to see what kind of color results I get. Presets based on their film types makes sense to me... I know what those films used to look like, so I can relate. Picture styles named "landscape", "portrait", "faithful", or "vivid" don't mean a thing to me. Film I understand. "Faithful", not so much. The quality of the images has blown me away. I am quite happy with my choice of camera company. Since I bought the camera, I think I have had four different updates to their software (still can't wrap my head around needing software in the camera... my age is showing!), all free of charge and all improving what I find is an already excellent system. And no, I am not getting paid by Fuji... I am quite sure they have no idea who I am much less have any inclination to pay me a dime! I do have to say Fuji is quite proud of their system, and price accordingly. I was fortunate in getting the camera and lens I did at a very low price of $999 each, a sale I have not seen since. At the time, the body was running $1599 and the lens I chose was around $1800, so under a grand was a comparative steal. Even with the release of the X-T2, the current price of the X-T1 is still $1200... yikes! Again, don't go right out and buy the X-T1 or X-T2 just on what I've written. Go out and do your own research and make an informed decision based on your needs, not mine! |
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