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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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. I was talking to a friend of mine who sells cameras at a local camera store (yes, they still exist!). He was commenting on how film was making a comeback and they had been selling quite a few film cameras of late. I'm not sure why, but if true, it's nice to think a new generation of film and chemistry photographers is finding the joys of film, even if I have taken the digital road.
I began thinking about articles and posts I've been reading describing a new interest in old processes. Although they love film for many reasons, many also feel this type of photography is somehow more important than digital photography. They praise the traditional because it is "art", somehow more significant than anything digital could possibly create. For many years, I shot film and printed black & white in a darkroom - and I loved it. It was satisfying and it was an important way to communicate how I saw the world. But for many, photography was not art. It was either too 'technical' or too easily 'reproduced', which made it anything but art. Now of course, digital has become king of the photography world, while film and chemistry have taken a back seat... except for one place. The art world has elevated traditional photography to the high arts. It is argued that digital photography can't be art as it is too 'technical' and too easily 'reproduced'... wait... What? This attitude has been around for as long as I can remember, and doesn't limit itself to photography. Metalwork, sculpture and fiber arts have all been questioned as to their validity as art. The arguments were always the same and had no more validity then as those same arguments do now. All art has some kind of technical expertise needed. For instance, painters need to understand the mixing of colors and determine what brush to use for a specific effect while working in clay, stone or wood will change the look and texture of a sculpture. Choosing the materials one uses, using a style to evoke a specific emotion, and understanding the medium one works in are all important steps in communication through art. But these steps are not the art itself. Art has nothing to do with the medium you choose. Photography is no different as a medium. Using film and chemicals instead of sensors and software does not make you an artist. These choices are not what makes art. Art has to do with your vision, not your equipment. We, as photographers, have to look at light, interpret what we see, and then make decisions, either with chemistry or with computers, so we will go beyond just recording what we looked at. We must create something that evokes emotion, something that makes a viewer pause and think, that captures a moment in time that will never be quite the same again. If I can press a button and make the same print again and again, how is this different from the mass production of any image? The art is in the capture of light, the choices one makes in the creation of the image and in the emotional impact our work instills in the viewer. So let's stop mistaking the medium with the art and start talking about expression, about emotion, about experiences. That is art. 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! I am often asked why I convert my images to black and white instead of keeping them in color. The question is usually phrased like this: "Why black and white?"... followed by a strange look in their eye. * Sigh * For the longest time, my reaction was one of wonder. I couldn't conceive of photography in any other way. But this is actually a very good question, and one that has taken a lot of consideration on my part to answer properly. I have had to think long and hard about what the real reasons to make images in black and white are. Digital images are shot in color after all, so am I converting to black and white simply to have something different? Is it something technical, a conversion to black and white simply because I can do it in software? The more I thought about it, the more I realized there is far more to this question, and to its answer, than I first realized. The simplest answer, but not a very good one, is that I was trained at a time when color photography was tedious, expensive and best done through automation. The craft of photography, the part where you got down and dirty with chemistry in a darkroom, was most easily accomplished through black and white processes. It was customary to teach photography through black and white, and as a result, color photography was seen to be more commercial and less interpretive or "artistic". We were full of it back then. A more considered answer has to do with the properties and the power that color possesses in our lives, both in the real world and in image making. It has to do with the assumptions a viewer makes when looking at images, and how they interpret what they see, and this is where it gets a lot more complex. Color has a lot of information contained within it. Even though we see the world every day, we don't realize how much information gets thrown at us just by the act of looking. When we receive this information, we automatically begin to interpret it. For instance, if I have a photo of a tree and the leaves are all green and bright, I tend to automatically think "summer". If that same tree is photographed at the exact same angle but has warm colors in the leaves, I think "autumn". It's the same tree, but the information contained in the color has changed my interpretation without really impinging on my consciousness. I just think of the season even though the image is of a tree. There is nothing wrong with this, but for me, it makes a color image something that has to be interpreted as "real". A picture of a tree is real because I see a tree. But of course, it isn't real. It's a two-dimensional object on a monitor or colored inks or dyes on a piece of paper. Although the tree may be realistic, it certainly isn't real. But I think of it as real. Because of this, something seems to be missing – a lost opportunity to interpret the scene as a viewer. I feel that sense of loss and want it back. In some ways, that color photograph triggered assumptions simply by being in color. Things are not so apparent in black and white. Since we don't see the world in black and white, we don't have a set of experiences that tells us what to think when we look at a black and white image. The black and white image of a tree doesn't have warm colored leaves, so we don't know that a certain season is upon us. The information in the photograph has been reduced to its basic components of line, shape, texture and form. We must "fill in" the missing pieces. As a photographer, I don't just point my camera in some random direction and hope for the best – or at least I hope I don't. I have a sense of how I interpret the world through my eyes and through my experiences. When I photograph, I bring that sense to my image making by making choices of angle and position, by the kind of camera and lens I use, by choosing to look at something and thinking I want to photograph it. When a viewer looks at the photo I created, they in turn, bring their experiences to the table. With a color image, we still interpret, even if it isn't so obvious. So viewing a black and white image just makes us interpret all the more. By choosing not to present an image in color, I create a layer of abstraction that a viewer must take time to understand. This is a way for me to help a viewer spend that extra time engaged with the image I created. When they are more engaged, they have a greater opportunity to gain something more than they would normally. When it comes to actually creating a black and white image, I have many choices. I don't just convert my digital color images to black and white by pressing a button and making it so, even though my software has a button to do that. I want more than just a color image where the color is gone. I want one where the color is transformed. The software I use doesn't remove the color – the reds and blues and greens are still there, but the image on the monitor looks black gray and white. I am able to manipulate those underlying colors to interpret my image in different ways. To do this, I must take time to decide what tones will represent each color in the image. A black and white image is actually full of gray tones, and these tones have a very great range to choose from. There is no specific shade of gray that correlates with a specific color, so I am free to use that range of tones to my advantage when interpreting a scene. As an example, I shot an image of a leaf on the sidewalk in color, but then was able to interpret this scene in different ways, one with very light tones, and one with much darker tones. You may ask which is the right one or even prefer one over the other, but who's to say. A more straightforward (some would say more realistic!) interpretation might be the image with the greater range of gray tones, but a minimalist would prefer the lighter tones that leave more to the imagination. The point is not which is "right", but that I am able to interpret the scene in very different ways. When I view a scene in color, it is such a powerful element. Color supersedes textures and tones, shapes and forms. It is just too overpowering to ignore. When I convert an image to black and white, I remove this power and emphasize all those elements that were suppressed. By choosing to see a shadow as contrast and shape, not just a dark area, I can isolate a subject or emphasize an emotion. Without color, the rough texture of a tree or the softness of the clouds become important elements in the image. This is why I prefer black and white over color – I have a much greater degree of flexibility because I have removed information, something that seems counterintuitive, but in reality gives me the freedom to express myself and the scene in any way I choose. When I reduce the image to those basic components of line, shape, texture and form, I open up all those possibilities that these elements afford me. And when the viewer has to pause and consider, actually think beyond their comfort zone, they gain something in return – they get to see the world in a completely different and dynamic way. For me, that gift is the magic of black and white. You have to ask yourself, what is photography? If it isn't the equipment, if it isn't the technology or the digital manipulation, what is it? Since the beginning days of photography, we have recorded the light, or to put it another way, we have recorded how we see light and its effects on our surroundings. In this way, we communicate not only what we are looking at, but what we see and how it feels. When we take a photograph, we are creating an image by recording light (and its conjoined twin shadow). The way light falls on an object, the shadows it creates, make a two dimensional image seem like it has texture, that it has depth, that it has substance. How we position ourselves in relation to this light creates the forms we see, can give us a sense of movement, of direction. We can lead a viewers eye by the way we place lines and shape, how we manipulate both positive and negative space in an image, and in that way we form the moods and interpretations of what we have photographed. We go beyond simple recording of a subject, endeavoring to place more into our images by how we record and interpret a scene. All of this is through the control of light. Without light, we don't have a photograph. Photography, after all, means light drawing. If we strip away the technology and our notions of what we think we are supposed to be doing, we are left with light as the image making component. We do have to think about shutter speeds and exposures, apertures and depth of field, all the technical bits, but in the end, all we really have is light. And if we can train ourselves to actually "see" light, not just accept it as an illumination, to actually see how it falls on an object, how it shapes it, forms it, and in so doing, how it moves us, we can be truly successful in our photographic image making. But to see light is incredibly difficult. That can't be true, can it? What I mean by "see light" is not just to "look" at light, but to actually see what it is doing to a scene. A cloudy diffuse light illuminates in a very different way than does the sharp contrast of full sun. The colors of a sunrise are very different from those at high noon, or those in the rain. Seasons can change the way light hits an object or the colors you see, and the lights direction changes how a shadow falls on the ground to form shapes and negative space. We are in essence blind to light because it is everywhere and we take it for granted, thinking of it only as a thing that illuminates what we are looking at. We have to train ourselves not just to look at a scene, but to see how light has helped us interpret what is there. Light is everything. It is shape and form and texture. It is color or the lack thereof. It makes things smooth and soft or sharp and harsh. Once we begin to really see this, once we begin this process of seeing and not just looking, we begin to get a feel for the light and how it changes everything. Back in the late 1800s, the painter Claude Monet created a series of paintings of the Rouen Cathedral in France. He painted it at different times of the day, at different times of the year. Each painting, always from the same perspective, is very different from the next because Monet wasn't painting the Rouen Cathedral at all. He was painting light. He captured the colors, the textures, the atmosphere present in that scene because he saw light instead of taking it for granted as an illumination source. The effects of the light were what was important, and that is what makes these paintings what they are... the capture of light in all its variety. When we photograph, we are doing the same thing, and in my view, even more so. – Our paint is not made up of an emulsion of minerals, but is the light itself. – Our palette is formed not by mixing colors, but by the shapes, textures, forms and colors light creates in a scene. – Each decision we make, each angle we choose to shoot from, each time we point our lens, changes how light affects what we see. As did Monet, when we take a photograph, we have to do more than just look at a scene. We must see it as light, and then choose how we are to interpret that light through our photographic practice. In this way, we go beyond recording. We create something new, something greater than before. We imbue perceptions, reactions, the sensations of light and feeling. In a way, we capture the light, a moment in time that will never be the same again, and bring it to life through the lens of our view. |
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