I'm just got back from the Valérie Jardin Street Photography workshop... and I don't know what to say. There are so many things running through my head, the experience, the photography, the learning... where does one start?
I could write on technical issues -- how street photography and environmental photography are two different animals, from your visual perspective to the settings on your camera; Or I could discuss the workshop itself -- the cold weather I had to be overcome, the enjoyment of meeting others with the same love of photography, and the impressions of walking downtown Dallas; And what about our esteemed mentor, Valérie Jardin... I could go on and on about her photographic experiences, her passion for sharing her knowledge, her love of teaching. I'm sure I will write about all of these things, but for now, I'm thinking about the workshop experience and how it affects our vision and our thinking. Workshops are something I used to do when I was first learning about photography. They were a way to get a new perspective on the craft from those that had experienced it first hand. Learning about photography in a state college with a small art department and even smaller photo program, you tended to look elsewhere for more in depth knowledge. The opportunities were limited, but well worth the effort. I met prominent photographers of the time, took workshops across the country when I was able to, and generally learned the craft by absorbing everything I could from a diverse set of image makers. These experiences molded the way I viewed photography and its (and my) place in the world. Pretty powerful stuff! So what happened? Why did I stop going to workshops and gallery events and talks and whatever else? I believe at some point, we all stop doing these things. We have to go explore our craft on our own, find our own voice in the midst of all the cacophony. In so doing, we have to forcibly let go of what others are doing, remove the training wheels so to speak, and venture out into the unknown. And that's a good thing. If we all were busy attending discussions on the state of photography, we wouldn't be out there actually creating images! And yet, there comes a time when we have explored our voice and, unfortunately, become complacent, satisfied that we have done what we set out to do and need do nothing else. We may even go so far as to believe there really isn't anything new to explore, or worse, that anything new is anathema to our view of the world. What a horrid way to live! I can say all this from personal experience. I left photography and all its digital evolution... I felt it had changed to the point that it wasn't photography anymore. I had come to a point that I felt satisfied with what I had done, and did not need these changes in my life. They had become the anathema to my view of how photography was supposed to be. I could not have been more wrong. Photography is not about technique, equipment, or subject matter. It is, as I have said so many times before, about communication. The workshop I attended could not have underscored this point more. Working on the streets and photographing people is so far removed from what I am used to that I was at a loss as to how to approach the subject. That's a wonderful thing! It demonstrates that there is ALWAYS something new to learn, something greater to see, visions to explore and communicate in a new way. Will street photography ever be a part of my repertoire? Can't say. But what I can say is, Valérie has opened my eyes to other ways of seeing, and that makes all the difference in the world. If at any time you think you've done what you set out to do, remember... you're not even close.
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I have discovered Lightroom on my smartphone. Now that may seem a little dimwitted of me, but give me a break... I was born when computers were giant building-sized overheated monstrosities that everyone thought a miracle because they were able to add two numbers together. I now carry a device that not only adds two numbers together, but uses numbers to keep phone records, uses numbers to manage my accounts, collects numerous news articles of interest, connects me to social media, stores my music and books, and, I don't doubt, goes on a vacation to Paris and sends me e-postcards on how much fun it's having, all the time wishing I was there.
So anyway... I have discovered Lightroom on my smartphone, and do I love it. I have been editing images with it on my laptop, and knew that it existed on my phone, but had no idea of what it could do. I see all my RAW images, edit them on the smartphone (slightly more limited than the laptop, but give it a break... it just got back from Paris and is jet lagged!), save them as JPEGs and even post them on social media. Oooh La La! C'est magnifique! Comment pourrais-je vivre sans cela pendant si longtemps?* (Sorry... all my phone wants to do is speak in French and eat crepes all day. But I digress...). The thing is, now that I can use my smartphone to easily post my images on Instagram without having to export, resize, log into Instagram and do whatever I have to do on a laptop, I find that I'm getting a lot of 'likes' and people are starting to follow me. I've posted images before, and even sent links to the images on this website, but haven't seen much traffic until now. What has changed? Is the immediacy of an image on social media more effective than a link to the same image? Since I can more easily post more often, does that keep me in the minds of other users? Did my phone really just send me a bill for a night out at the Moulin Rouge? I need to start keeping tabs on my devices. As a result of all this activity, I get excited when I see that little heart on Instagram go red. I'm noticed! I'm liked! I'm followed! In any other context, that could sound rather menacing, but not in the social media world. We seem to crave being recognized when it comes to social media... and that is saying a lot for someone who likes to stay at home and veg in front of the television all day. How did I become someone that wants to be noticed? What does it say about me as a person or us as a society? Is it important for our self esteem to have lots of 'likes' or is this just the new role we play in this 21st century technological age? It is an odd thing being constantly reviewed by your peers and even more so when it comes from total strangers. Why should anyone care what someone else thinks about a tweet, an image, or a blog post? Could this indicate something missing in our lives? For me, this is a realization I'm able to reach and process through this journal and through my image creation. I began writing this post just to talk about how strange it was that I liked getting 'likes', but it has turned into a self-reflection on the need for a sense of connection, a way of communicating feelings that is somehow missing otherwise. If this is truly the case, is the best solution really to crave more and more 'likes'? Sounds too much like an addict thinking just a little bit more will make them feel better and able to cope with reality. Maybe the best thing is to find other outlets that allow us to connect with the world. If we start creating images that are less reliant on self-centered motivations and more about contributing to others, then we would gain the recognition that we are truly craving... that of making a difference. Although this one small change doesn't remove the need to be noticed, it helps us realize we need to be needed. And that's what life is all about. *: By the way... my phone may speak French, but I, regrettably, do not. I make no claim as to the accuracy of the translation! I 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. 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. |
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