Luminous Landscape Forum
Site & Board Matters => About This Site => Topic started by: jerrygrasso96 on September 08, 2008, 07:25:49 am
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Kudos to George. His latest article here about "The problem with photographing the beautiful and famous" discusses something I have also struggled with, and it is great to read some structured analysis that can help us approach this problem logically. His guideline questions at the end of his article can be used as a great starting point when approaching any potential scene as well.
I'd love to read an extended article that explores with some length on each of his suggested questions. Nice job, George!
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Yes, indeed: an excellent essay. Nice illustrations, too.
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A really good article... similar to techniques I learned from Freeman Patterson as well.
And George if you're here, really beautiful B&W work on your website!
Mike.
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Thank you all for your kind comments.
All the best,
George
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Really good indeed! An excellent essay.
Regards,
Luis
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I think he's completely off-base. Significant work isn't about what's in front of the lens; it's about ideas. Ansel Adams had an idea, and he produced a body of work around that idea, and now when people take the same idea, it's hackneyed. The vein is worked out. Landscape photography has nowhere to go, until somebody comes up with a different idea about it.
There are some fabulous landscape photographers out there who match Adams in technique, and since they had better materials, they produce prints that exceed those of Adams. The problem is, most landscape "artists" are shooting Adams' ideas (or Minor White's, or some else's), but since they're not their own ideas, and really don't explore much in the way of new directions, they're simply imitators. They are performing like contemporary"impressionists" or "plein aire" painters who use the impressionist technique, and subject matter, and often quite skillfully -- but they're not in the museums because there's nothing new, there's no unique vision.
In other words, like 99.9% of highly skilled landscape photographers, these painters are craftsmen, rather than artists. They're making chairs. Nothing wrong with being a craftsman, but being a craftsman doesn't necessarily or even usually mean that you're an artist.
If your work is indistinguishable from Minor White's, you're an imitator (or a craftsman) not an artist; if you shoot just like Ansel Adams, the same is true; name any serious photographic artist since since the days of Steiglitz and Steichen, and you'll find troops of followers. The fact that they're following is the reason they don't get the bold print in the art histories, no matter how skilled they are.
You need an idea. A black and white plow blade isn't an idea, it's a picture.
JC
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That's going to be a kind of a problem, as we all have the same canvas from which to compose. Google pictures horseshoe bend and you'll get 270,000 hits. The earth is pretty well covered.
If I shoot an image and someone say's it looks like someone else's work, well..
I don't get hung up on this. I simply enjoy the act of taking a photo and having my friends and family take notice. That's reward enough for me in my little world.
Great article. Makes you think.
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If you have a strong personality with some unique (more or less) qualities, and you're darn good with the camera, chances are you can produce a collection that stands out from the crowd. Those who don't are usually intimidated by peer pressure and fear of rejection, which happens to the great ones in large quantity long before they become recognized.
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I'm glad John offered a dissenting opinion on my ideas in the article, though I am not entirely sure that his arguments (which I largely agree with) necessarily follow from what I wrote.
John refers to significant photography, presumably the work done by the people other than the 99.9% - ie. .1% of all serious photographers.
Frankly, I don't think the .1% need my help while the 99.9% perhaps could be helped by my suggestions.
I agree with John though, in 100 years, only the innovators, the originators, the people who have taken photography a significant step further than it has gone before are likely to be remembered in museums, and likely nowhere else.
I have no illusions that I am going to rate an entry in the year 3000 History Of Photography books. For myself, I'm content to push boundaries while the truly great leap over them.
I suspect that the vast majority of readers of the article really don't think of themselves as belonging in that .1%, and more than a few of them have struggled with the issues I address - which by the way come from my own experience in tackling the beautiful and trying to compete with Ansel and coming to terms with the idea that there's no need to do so.
I look forward to seeing how this dialog develops and how other people feel about the ideas in the article and about the forum comments.
George
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Of course there is a world of difference between good and bad photography, but I am increasingly, and with some reluctance, coming to the conclusion that photography even at its very best is usually not all that good.
There are so very few photographers, even some of the "masters", whose work one can look through and be amazed.
And as to the notion that one can really have a vision that one wants to communicate through one's photos. Well, 90% of the time that emperor is wearing no clothes, even with the really great and famous photographers. Remove it from the realm of social commentary and it's down to 99.9999% naked I'm afraid.
And if someone takes pictures of rust and tells me that they have a vision and want to communicate some meaning other than "wow rust makes pretty cool patterns eh?" then I guess I'm just not buying it. Not that I don't think it can induce a pleasant aesthetic experience and make me want to hang it on my wall.
So what can you do when faced with trying to take a picture of the beautiful? Well you can make a beautiful picture, one that makes someone go "wow". But more than that? You can pretend you have a "vision" or something deep to communicate, but it's just homeopathy; do it for the placebo effect if you must, but there's nothing real going on there.
Edit: George, I applaud you for searching for the answer to the question of how one takes one's photography "to the next level", but I guess I have come to the conclusion that there really is no next level there to be found.
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The reason Ansel Adams was great is because he didn't just snap photos with a "vision" - he created photos from a process he created first. Like Edison, he knew that creativity was 99 pct. perspiration. Those who work really hard to create their process first, then their photos from that - they will have the advantage.
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That's going to be a kind of a problem, as we all have the same canvas from which to compose. Google pictures horseshoe bend and you'll get 270,000 hits. The earth is pretty well covered.
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I disagree. The Earth is not 'pretty well covered'. Certain places in the US, UK and a handful of other countries get a disproportionate amount of exposure, this much is obvious. The challenge for those of us of a mind so to do, is to look for locations which have not been covered to such depth. Or, as George Barr points out, to go looking for the beautiful in places where others do not see it.
One of the greatest proponents of these ideas is the British photographer, David Ward. He may not be well known on the left side of The Pond but his images are an object lesson in 'found beauty' (for want of a better term). I recommend those interested in reading further to check out his two books: 'Landscape Within' and 'Landscape Beyond'.
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I for one, find it more challenging to simply drive down the the road a few miles, crawl throught the woods and shoot a small brook. Such places are void of historical signs, warnings about leaving the trail, litter, and other people.
Reminds me of two exercises from 'Photography and the Art of Seeing' (IIRC...) One was to walk out your front door, take 10 steps, turn left, take 5 steps, turn right, take 5 steps (or some such, depending on where you live), and without moving your feet, shoot a roll of film, making each shot interesting. The other was to take an object - a plow blade, a car, a tree, a pop can or whatever you want, and shoot a roll of film only of that object - again, making each image unique and interesting. Yeah, I know... film? What's film? But it does challenge the person to go beyond the chunk of metal and plastic and glass that's in your hands and begin to see the world around you.
Mike.
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Reminds me of two exercises from 'Photography and the Art of Seeing' (IIRC...) One was to walk out your front door, take 10 steps, turn left, take 5 steps, turn right, take 5 steps (or some such, depending on where you live), and without moving your feet, shoot a roll of film, making each shot interesting. The other was to take an object - a plow blade, a car, a tree, a pop can or whatever you want, and shoot a roll of film only of that object - again, making each image unique and interesting. Yeah, I know... film? What's film? But it does challenge the person to go beyond the chunk of metal and plastic and glass that's in your hands and begin to see the world around you.
Mike.
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Exactly. I've shot film since the mid 80's. I was in the Navy have visit many countries over the course of six years. Only to have lost every negative during a transfer of duty. I was young and naive and being a sailor, kept everything in a box in my locker. I still shutter to think of the loss to this day. The only surviving image was a 20" blow up of the US Saratoga CV-60 on the pier, full moon behind the bridge and rumored to be last seen in the Captains quarters before she was decomissioned.
Since that event I packed my T50 away and never shot with it again. Doing primarily commercial work only. Only lately did I start shooting again, having discovered the benefit of digital (backups!)
If you look at my site, (ferling.net) other than the New Jersey shore pics, baltimore city scape and a hotel in Florida, all images were shot within a ten mile radius of where I live in Reading, Pennsylvania over the last six months.
Does that diminish interest? No. Because someones local is anothers far, far away.
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<snip>The challenge for those of us of a mind so to do, is to look for locations which have not been covered to such depth. Or, as George Barr points out, to go looking for the beautiful in places where others do not see it. One of the greatest proponents of these ideas is the British photographer, David Ward. He may not be well known on the left side of The Pond but his images are an object lesson in 'found beauty' (for want of a better term). [a href=\"index.php?act=findpost&pid=220296\"][{POST_SNAPBACK}][/a]
David Ward is an example of what I was talking about in my first post -- an exceptional craftsman, but not a significant artist. I thank George for his temperate reply to my first post, which was somewhat over-enthusiastic, but the point I was making there is that pushing craft, and doing craft exercises, will not make you a significant artist. One of the problems with the whole confused field of photography is that people constantly talk about Art, but what they're really getting to is a kind of craft.
I have no problem with craft. I'm a serious and successful craftsman in a field in which there are great artists; I never wanted to be one, for a lot of complicated reasons, but I take my *craft* seriously and work hard it. I just don't confuse what I'm doing with art.
Art is about ideas. It's not about finding undiscovered or unappreciated places in the world. America wasn't undiscovered when Robert Frank did "The Americans." The discovery was in his idea, not in the place; it was in his head, not on the other side of the lens.
The impressionist and post-impressionist painters took the most inane realities -- houses on a hill, crows over a wheat field -- and turned them into great art, because they were exploring concepts like the effect of light on external realities, the impact of nature on our psyches, and so on. The landscape could be anything...
One thing that has always stuck with me from Luminous Landscape is that Mike Reichmann once told the story of how he went to the right place at the right time (I think the Grand Tetons, but it could have been Yellowstone) and there were a lot of other people there and when the sun came up or went down, whichever it was, they all took their photos. I don't doubt that his were perfectly exposed and strikingly beautiful, but...What did he just do? Whatever it was, a lot of other people did exactly the same thing at the same moment, the only difference being in the levels of technique. Could you call that any form of art? I'm really interested in that question: "What was he doing?" (Don't tell me "camera testing" -- that'd be too easy.)
If you want to be an artist, ideas are what you worry about; if you want to be a great craftsman, then you can without the slightest twinge of guilt go looking for the most brilliantly composed mountain glade with aspens in the sunlight. It looks great, it sells for $100 for 13x19 pigment print in an edition of 150; but I'll tell you what, it ain't art. And if you load up your truck with photo equipment and head out to New Mexico, you may get your craft going, but unless you have an aesthetic concept that you're putting to the test, you're going to get pictures, but you won't get art.
JC
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Good points John and an interesting subject to discuss, even if I feel it's going a bit beyond the scope of my article. Your points raise questions like is it even possible to teach someone to think outside the box when they weren't naturally inclined that way in the first place. There are suggestions that children naturally think outside the box and that we train it out of them with rules and embarrassment and norms and holding up examples of those who went before. This would suggest that the ability to be creative, to think outside the box, to come up with original ideas is not an all or none thing, that all of us can learn this kind of thinking to some degree or another.
As a physician, I do a lot of work with adults and kids with ADHD, attention deficit - people who often excell at thinking outside the box, but who may not be able to keep a thought long enough to act on it. ADHD certainly comes in degrees of severity. Typically the more severe, the more creative the person. I treat song writers and artists.
Freeman Patterson is someone well known for teaching thinking outside the box. Sure he's famous for visiting Namibia but the vast majority of the images which have made his reputation were made within 20 miles of his home. He teaches creative thinking exercises, as was mentioned in one of the replies above.
There are no new subjects out there - absolutely everything we could photograph has been done before - ok, perhaps not this stream or waterfall, but it isn't the waterfall that makes for a unique piece of art, but the way that the photographer sees it and interprets it.
Some photographers rely on tricks and techniques, methods and equipment to differentiate their work - they make platinum prints or make albumin prints, glass plates or even silver plates but while one can admire their craftsmanship, the real question is whether the images they produce produce any kind of response in the viewers - an emotion or showing us something we didn't know before or telling a story particularly well.
If we look at painting, there are a select limited number of painters who saw things differently and for that they will be remembered in the history books. It does not mean that no one else on this planet is an artist painter. there is good evidence in all the creative arts that while the history books imply that there were sudden and gigantic leaps forward via the Cezannes and Picasso's, in fact the changes they made were not entirely de novo - they took further the ideas that were already developing. The same is true in music - Beethoven didn't come along in a vacuum, he developed his music over time, early work being fairly closely related to the works of those before him (like Mozart) while gradually drifting further along a path. Sure Beethoven thought outside the box, but he started with small steps. By the end, he'd traveled a significant distance.
Getting back to the article, if you accept that artistry is a matter of degrees rather than kind, then I do think that that the issues I raised are relevant for many photographers. Combined with some of Freeman's exercises for thinking outside the box, it might just make someone a better photographer.
George
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This thread, so far and in my opinion, has turned out to be the best-written and most considered that comes to mind.
We have often touched on the problem of originality - whether it is even possible anymore - and I doubt that we shall ever resolve the issue to a general level of satisfaction. The same holds with the matter of genre: can a new one be invented or even discovered?
Comment has been passed on the impressionists/post-impressionists and their ways of doing things, but I sometimes wonder if we read too much into their work. Could it be nothing more than that was how they did things, that their technique was simply not able to accommodate the standards of the past? A personal example: as a kid, I spent a lot of spare time in art galleries and bought lots of postcards from which I tried to make copies with my own fair hand. In the end, I realised that the most easily copied ones were Vincent Van G´s efforts. Why? Because the technique was so crude that my even more crude attempts at learning something from him showed that he was pretty easy to imitate. His work seemed no more capable of capturing anything much than could my own.
So where did that go? First of all, I fell in love with the story of the guy´s life and I still think of him fondly today; secondly, I realised that where I had been thinking that by trying to reproduce his work I was learning something, I had just been deceiving myself - I had simply settled for a soft option which precluded the awkward search for something of my own to say.
For me, that´s pretty much where all of the rock, tree, canyon, sunset, sunrise photographers are sitting today. Exactly where I was in my Van Gogh days.
But that may not be a permanent state of affairs. In the field of pin-up/glamour (not to be confused with the meaning of those words today) of the 50s there was a handful of successful practioners, amongst whom I´d include Peter Gowland, Don Ornitz, Peter Basch, Russ Meyer and perhaps some others. They all seemed to be very skilled and at the top of the tree regarding poses, lighting and all the rest. Then, out of South Africa, came Sam Haskins. He was a lightning bolt. What he had been able to do was revolutionary and left the rest of the field looking as dated as you can imagine. His seminal book, Five Girls, was a revelation. Same subject, but brother, what a leap upmarket!
Perhaps the same can happen with other branches of photography, but I won´t be holding my breath!
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And if you load up your truck with photo equipment and head out to New Mexico, you may get your craft going, but unless you have an aesthetic concept that you're putting to the test, you're going to get pictures, but you won't get art.
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Quite an interesting point of view! It reminds me of the inner sigh I feel every time I see yet another image of Monument Valley's Mittens...
And for me it complements well George Barr's article : the article means, for me, how can new subjects be found in old locations, whereas John Camp's view is more about the style, or the way to depict it, than about the subject itself.
Peppers such ad Ed Weston's one had already been numerously depicted in previous still lives, though there is something more to his one.
For me, I'm certainly no Ed Weston, and just want to convey to other people the wonder I feel in some places or things - for that I think I need more craft than art.
Furthermore, I'd think an article can only explain crafts and techniques, if we agree that art is something deeply personal, and not something that can be copied effectively.
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I think that we can use the example of Edward Weston's Pepper # 30 to better understand art vs. craft and what serious hobby photographers can hope to achieve (even if they don't end up in the history books). Pepper # 30 was not a breakthrough image - it succeeds simply because of Weston's skill in seeing that a pepper of this interesting shape would photograph well, and that by placing it in a funnel, he'd end up with a dark background that would frame the pepper perfectly, and by using late evening light on the porch (he finally ran out of light entirely) he was able to capture those highlights on the pepper in a way that in a silver print just want to make you cry with their beauty.
When you compare Pepper # 30 to a number of other close ups he did over the years, this image is head and shoulders above the others. Though he has some lovely other images - shells, cabbage, etc..
I think any of us is capable of finding our Pepper # 30, through training our eye to be observant, to know what surfaces reflect light in useful ways and to know how to present a subject (or frame it) to show it to it's best. Perhaps our Pepper # 30 won't be as good as Weston's, but it will mean as much to us and may even move others.
I really don't think that it is necessary to be first to be good (fortunately), though if your goal is to be famous, then absolutely it does.
George
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I really don't think that it is necessary to be first to be good (fortunately), though if your goal is to be famous, then absolutely it does.
George
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George, without stirring a hornet´s nest, that might apply to some sorts of photography but certainly not in the world of fashion and advertising, and without a doubt, if applied to music, would make many an old porch-sitting blues picker/singer turn in his grave.
Rob C
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The reason Ansel Adams was great is because he didn't just snap photos with a "vision" - he created photos from a process he created first. Like Edison, he knew that creativity was 99 pct. perspiration. Those who work really hard to create their process first, then their photos from that - they will have the advantage.
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So what you're saying is that a crappy photographer with a great workflow will magically become a great photographer? Pahleaze, Ansel's process came out of his desire to more accurately realize his vision. More accurately, the process was created to better TEACH students how to realize their visions.
Vision first, process second...or perhaps third or fourth.
George, without stirring a hornet´s nest, that might apply to some sorts of photography but certainly not in the world of fashion and advertising, and without a doubt, if applied to music, would make many an old porch-sitting blues picker/singer turn in his grave.
Rob, that assumes that all fashion and advertising photography, as well as blues music, were created "first" without influences and will never come back into style. As most everything else, fashionable music and photography ebb and flow, leaving ample room for those coming second, third or even fourth to surpass the quality of their predecessors.
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Please explain his vision to me. And "If you can't see I can't explain it." won't do. If you know what it was you should be able to explain it.
He was a great innovator in a time when photography was technically a lot more difficult than it is now. Apart from that he spent a lot of time outdoors, found some nice compositions and waited for the light.
There is no magic there. He was special because he was first to do what he did.
"Vision first" phooey. Meaningless twaddle. Tell me what he was trying to convey with his pictures. If you can't explain it it means you don't know either.
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Rob:
being different for advertising purposes is certainly critical but I'm not sure that this generalizes to all photography or all art.
The problem with being first is that there are so few who can be first, and some serious artists (in whatever medium) are never first in a major way. If we apply this logic to music, then only the first composer in any genre is going to count - we only need one rapper, one swing music composer, one romantic period symphony. We could even make the arguement that if Beethoven wrote one symphony, the rest were surplus to requirement, unless each was a first of it's own.
There are degrees of firstness and often artists take an idea and push it further and further to see where it will go. Most of the time we never hear any more because it's a bust, but now and again they get it just right.
Few artists are both first and best and in fact it is often the fact that after some period in any genre, there are people who do it (whatever it is, music, photography, whatever) that really creative people feel the need to move on, but that does not negate the efforts of those artists who brought that genre to it's peak.
An advertizing photographer can come up with a catchy new idea, but that doesn't make it the best idea, the one that is going to win prizes and get preserved in museums - there are some very creative beer commercials, many of them different, but some are just plain better than othersand become classics.
The problem with the grand landscape black and white large format, gorgeously printed roots and rocks genre is that it's been really hard to improve on Ansel. He was most definitely not the first, by a long shot. What he was though was the printer who could make you gasp with the beauty of a print, with the depths of the tones and the fine detail captured and translated into the print.
When Michael Kenna wanted to express himself through landscape imaging, it would seem he felt a need to express it in a different way - with medium format square images of much simpler design, often moody and showing a lot of atmosphere.
There are a number of photographers who photograph the sea shore or docks or whatever with long exposures removing any detail from the water.David Fokos is one. I have absolutely no idea who did it first. I do have a limit to how many of that kind of image I want to see but primary is the desire to see the best of that type of image. I would guess that it actually might be quite difficult to trace back to see who did it first and more than likely we'll find out that it happened at least 80 years ago, done by someone who's name has long since been forgotten.
George
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A thought that popped into my head as I was reading through this thread with regard to 'firsts' and originality is that if we're going to compare the work of two photographers (writers, musicians, composers...), then we have to consider a body of work and not just one image. And that would have to include a body of work over time. If we were to look at work done by Adams or Bresson or anyone else at the beginning of their careers and compare it to work done years later, it would probably be possible (for someone who didn't know), to say that the images were done by more than one person.
Similarly, one could probably find the 'same' image done by more than one photographer if one was patient to look through enough images. That's one image in isolation, but if we look at the body of work of one person and the body of work of another - and how many images constitute a body of work is anyone's guess - then differences will become more pronounced; i.e. give the same ______, whatever object to ten different photographers and ask them to make ten images each, and of the 100 images there are likely going to be some images that are similar but many that are quite different.
Mike.
Edit: Another question with regard to craft v.s. art might be the number of 'artistic' images. If a photographer creates a body of 'good' images and one or two 'excellent' images, is he or she a craftsman or an artist? And who decides?
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P.S. Was just reading Joe McNally's blog, and today's post (September 10, 2008) seems to fit in here...
http://www.joemcnally.com/blog/ (http://www.joemcnally.com/blog/)
Mike.
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Hello George. Your article has come at a very interesting time and and unfortunately I have been thinking about it all night so if my comments are mere fragments you will know why and hold yourself responsible. Firstly some background. I started learning a musical instrument at around 30 and have been teaching now for some 20 years. It has been a privilege to have students from 5 years old to 70, from those stunningly talented to those struggling a bit with life after being brain damaged. I started this morning at a place for children expelled from school and who now have nowhere else to go, and finished at a private school for some of the wealthiest in my city. But the issues for learning remain the same. Sure, sometimes there are limits imposed by a physical injury that can't be worked through. So maybe we can step around them. Sometimes a child is buzzing so much in the head they have no attention span. Often making them laugh stops that for a few minutes and we can make eye contact and while that is happening I can teach. But in learning an instrument the biggest hurdle 95% of the time is attitudes and beliefs.
So I have been wondering how to integrate my experience with music into my photography to help it along.
A common response when I'm teaching is for a child to say “this is really difficult”. I think about it for a moment and reply “yes, it is”. Then we get on with the lesson.
A common failing in students is the lack of practice. No music teacher I work with practised for less than four hours a day in their training. So if someone can't manage 20-30 minutes a day I have no sympathy.
I've always used as my models and inspiration (and to measure my progress) the top people in my field, some of whom I've been fortunate enough to meet, but whom I cannot hope to ever equal. I am realistic about this. But to my surprise one day I woke up and found I could do a couple of small things better than anyone else around me locally. Giving me a unique voice in some situations. Maybe another few small things may turn up in the future. Quite exciting really.
Now after having a home darkroom some 35 years ago I've picked up a camera again. My heart's desire has always been to print, but in preparation for buying a 17 inch printer I have going over the 6,000-odd images from the last 2 years, and I find I have a hit rate of about one in two hundred for images that interest me enough to work with. Really depressing. I'm looking at where to go with my photography and thinking “this is really difficult”. Uh, well I guess I know the answer to that one.
( ...and round me too the night
in ever-nearing circle weaves her shade.
I see her veil draw soft across the day,
And long the way appears, which seemed so short,
And high the mountain-tops in cloudy air
The mountain-tops, where is the throne of Truth.)
So here's my starting list of things to do.
My models? Well, I feel appalling ignorant here, but they would include Turner, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Vincent Ward, Ingmar Bergman and Gunnar Fischer, Abel Gance, Antoni Gaudi.
Looking at the images I want to work on I see most are those where I've had a crystal clear idea of what I wanted to produce. Often those taken within 45 minutes cycling of my front door. Often when heading out to do one thing but I've noticed something else on the way, maybe from my “to do” list.
I'm slowly compiling a “to do” list of ideas, so that when the opportunity presents itself I'm ready. Looking for inspiration here in the cracks in the fabric of reality. Dreams, the quiet moments when an idea comes when you are looking the other way, logical contradictions. And mining my cultural heritage. I love Rembrandt's use of light and shade in the background of his portraits. How can I get this into my portraits of standing stones? Where do I find my van dyke brown and burnt sienna to brush into the canvas?
Here is a painting (in words...an image is an image is an image):
Here will I sit and wait/ While to my ear from uplands far away/ The bleating of the folded flocks is borne/ With distant cries of reapers in the corn- All the live murmer of a summer's day./ Screen'd is this nook o'er the high, half reap'd field/ And here til sun-down, shepherd will I be./ Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep/ And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see pale pink convolvulus in tendrils creep/ And air-swept lindens yield their scent and rustle down their perfumed showers of bloom in the bent grass where I am laid/ And bower me from the August sun with shade. How can I take an image like this and translate it into 6 or so inks on a piece of paper?
At a recent talk given by a newspaper photographer he spoke of how he always looks for a framing or a perspective others would not normally see or use. He calls the space from the waist to the eyes the “zone of death”. Got it. I understand.
Why am I shooting this? This is easier. When I play a piece of music for others it is for my own pleasure as well. I am saying that here is a piece I like and perhaps you may too. Maybe you haven't heard it quite like this or perhaps not contrasted with this next piece. So at least one person will be happy with the results.
The art versus craft discussion confuses me. I need a certain level of technical ability to make real what I have to say musically. I have likely hit my limit here and so what I'm looking to do is to work to the best of my ability with what I have now. On the photo side my technical ability with software and camera is lacking but there are a lot of resources out there. Including this web site. So I just ask myself if an image I've produced pleases me. Perhaps someone else my like it too. I am not a professional so I have this luxury.
Your article comes at a timely moment. Thanks for the push along. Regards, David
So have I heard the cuckoo's parting cry
From the wet field, through the vext garden-trees,
Come with the volleying rain and tossing breeze:
“The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go I !”
Too quick despairer, Wherefore wilt thou go?
Soon will the high Midsommer pomps come on.
Soon will the musk carnations break and swell,
Soon shall we have the gold-dusted snapdragons
Sweet-Willlam with his homely cottage-smell,
And stocks in fragrant blow; roses that down the alleys shine afar,
And open, jasmine-muffled lattices
And groups under the dreaming garden trees,
And the full moon, and the white evening-star
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It's amazing the twists and turns a thread can take from my initial "kudos to George" thought...anyway here's an article (http://www.billjayonphotography.com/The%20Thing%20Itself.pdf) by Bill Jay (you read his famous End-Notes in LensWork) that I think compliments the spirit of what George discusses in his article...
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My heart's desire has always been to print, but in preparation for buying a 17 inch printer I have going over the 6,000-odd images from the last 2 years, and I find I have a hit rate of about one in two hundred for images that interest me enough to work with. Really depressing. I'm looking at where to go with my photography and thinking “this is really difficult”.
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... but is it art?
I understand what you're saying. But if there are indeed 30 images (don't care whether that is from 600, 6000 or 60000) that you selected (based on your personal criteria) are really worth your while on work on, I would say that is a tremendous result over 2 years. I would almost think you need to be more picky!
Working on these 30 will give you a not-to-be-missed learning opportunity (like "wow, that went well" to "oops - I should reshoot if I can"), where you can explore other creative approaches ad nauseum (think HDR, software grad filters, (de)saturation, cropping etc etc).
I would submit that it is a great opportunity. Even financially: if you have 30 'winners' you want to print on a $1500 17 inch printer on 16x20 paper, you would probably pay about $75-$100 per very nice print (some proofs, trials and errors included) if you would depreciate the printer's cost over the 30 prints only. This may come across as elitist, but honestly - that price is not bad at all - again assuming that the prints are worth your while!
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Excellent reference Gerry and I highly recommend everyone read and re-read Bill's Essay.
In reading David's comments above as a music teacher he makes the point that often the limiting factors are not lack of talent, or intelligence, or artistic temperament, but a willingness to put in the effort and this is reiterated in Bill's essay.
I suspect that some feel that you are either an artist or not, and that this is both discouraging (what if I don't have "IT" and am wasting my time) and helpful (It's out of my hands, so I don't have to work hard). Some are able to convince themselves that they are artists and others are not while more people agonize that they almost certainly aren't artists, as evidenced by their most recent proof sheet, and may even stop photographing. This is both sad and mistaken.
George
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I guess we are not the first to have conversations like what we have above...see here... (http://www.rleggat.com/photohistory/history/demachy.htm)
It's just interesting to read how photo-manipulations influence the discussion of art versus craft...
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"Vision first" phooey. Meaningless twaddle. Tell me what he was trying to convey with his pictures. If you can't explain it it means you don't know either.
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It's not up to me, nor to you, to try and interpret what a photographer (or any artist) is trying convey with any piece of art. This overly simplistic thought, common among photo hobbyists, relegates art to little more than a mathematical formula with one, and only one, correct answer. Hogwash.
The photographer creates an image using personal vision and interpretation, and it's up to us to draw our own conclusion. Personally, I don't give a rats patoot what the photographer wanted to say, nor do I care what anyone else has to say. The only thing that matters to me is what I think it says, and that's the only explanation I could ever give. It's not a difficult concept, actually.
There is no magic there. He was special because he was first to do what he did.
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Sadly, I believe you're serious. My condolences.
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John, while I agree with you on what it takes to be recognized as a *significant* artist, I do not
think that art has to be significant in the history of the medium in order to be elevated above
craft. Moreover, I do believe that the context in which the art is produced, as well as the subjects chosen, does contribute the significance of the art.
For instance, let assume that Henri Cartier-Bresson was reborn as an African woman in the second half of the 20th century, and her work would document with the same eye as HCB (but nothing sylisticaly new) the struggles of her continent from an inside point of view. Would one doubt that she would be considered an artist, and that museums would show her work ?
Tuan.
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Thank you for your comments Mark. I've particularly enjoyed looking at your photographs, especially "broom" and the images of shadows.
George, I think Bill Jay's article hits the nail on the head. For most musical instruments, the average amount of practice to go from beginner to playing on stage is said to be about 10,000 hours. In my experience that is probably about right. Do it, and you are there. Those who listen may argue over the artistic merits of what you have done, calling it "well crafted" if they liked it but have heard better, or "a fine journeyman presentation" if the technical ability is there but they didn't like your interpretation, but you will be on your way, so to speak. Of course it is not quite the same thing as a photograph, live music being "in the moment" and then gone, but I suspect the differences are not that great. It is a question of doing it: study and practice. If I take the top ten players on my instrument, my guess is perhaps for the top three of those it will be talent. For the other seven their "talent" is being able to work hard. In fact "talent" can be a killer. At some point it will really get hard, and at that point those who have relied on their talent often fall away. Those who always found it difficult never notice when it does actually become hard.
Back to the issue of attitudes and beliefs. When teaching a child with dyslexia for example, the most immediate task is sometimes to drag them kicking and screaming out of the box labelled "I can't do this". So I still maintain the label "artist" is a dead end. I think it is putting oneself into another box. Let others argue about what you are doing. Stand aside from that one. It's too easy to end up arrogant or distressed. No one I know thinks of themselves in those terms. They are producing work because they have to express what is inside and what moves them, and sometimes they need to show others to share what they've done or to have an income, and some things they may keep to themselves.
My two cents worth on that one. David
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David (taquin)_
interesting, and I think relevant points about music and hours needed to become skilled and the comments on talent and struggling when things get to be hard work regardless. You might be onto something here.
I think that what happens in those 10,000 hours is that almost everyone has studied so hard and listened to so many musicians that they can't help but develop their own style of playing - it would be difficult in that many hours to only study one expert.
I think exactly the same thing happens in photography. We start out wanting to be Ansel Adams but along the way we are distracted by the work of others, Ploughman, Myerowitz, Kenna et al, and learn more about historical photographers so also learn of both Westons and kertesz and many others. Amongst all those images we have favourites which cannot help but influence us - pulling us in a number of directions instead of just one, and from that we develop our own style(s).
Being first can get you famous, but only for being first, not necessarily (or likely) for being best. Feel free to pick one.
George
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It's not up to me, nor to you, to try and interpret what a photographer (or any artist) is trying convey with any piece of art. This overly simplistic thought, common among photo hobbyists, relegates art to little more than a mathematical formula with one, and only one, correct answer. Hogwash.
The photographer creates an image using personal vision and interpretation, and it's up to us to draw our own conclusion. Personally, I don't give a rats patoot what the photographer wanted to say, nor do I care what anyone else has to say. The only thing that matters to me is what I think it says, and that's the only explanation I could ever give. It's not a difficult concept, actually.
Sadly, I believe you're serious. My condolences.
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So if the interpretation is solipsistic then what point the artist's vision? It is utterly irrelevant to the viewer. And yet it's spoken of in hushed tones, and is really really important that he had a "vision" of some sort because without it of course you can't be an artist.
Please don't misunderstand me - it's not that I don't like the photographs. I like them just fine; it's the pretentious pontification about the photographers that I find ridiculous.
But of course I shall have to bow to your superior wisdom, I am indeed nothing more than a hobbyist (boy that one really put me in my place), and accept your condolences for whatever is apparently missing in my brain that excludes me from admission to these rarefied circles. And being bruised by ad-hominem buffeting shall bow out accepting the scorn of my betters.
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You know, when I first saw this thread, "problems with photographing the beautiful and famous", my immediate reaction was; I have no problems photographing the beautiful and famous. This article is of no practical benefit to me. So I ignored it.
But I now see that the term 'beautiful and famous' does not apply to famous people and their idiosyncrasies, but well-photographed locations such as Ansel Adams' Yosemite. How to create a new slant on an old topic!
I feel a bit uncomfortable getting into discussions that centre around the age old question, 'What is art?' I sense there's usually a lot of snobbery and pretentiousness in such discussions.
My approach is, I simply photograph what I find interesting at the time. The problem later is how to translate that initial experience that motivated me to take the shot, into a print (or slide show) that conveys that initial experience, not only to the viewer, but to myself. In fact, to myself first.
A very primitive approach, I'm sure you will agree, but it gives me joy .
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So if the interpretation is solipsistic then what point the artist's vision?
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While an artists vision or purpose is irrelevant to the message received by the viewer, it is absolutely essential for the creation of the image. It creates the groundwork by which an image may be subjectively interpreted and appreciated, even if that interpretation is different than that intended by the photographer.
Without vision, without viewpoint, all we have are pretty pictures. I like to think photography is about more than that.
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It's amazing the twists and turns a thread can take from my initial "kudos to George" thought...anyway here's an article (http://www.billjayonphotography.com/The%20Thing%20Itself.pdf) by Bill Jay (you read his famous End-Notes in LensWork) that I think compliments the spirit of what George discusses in his article...
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I have to agree: the thing sure has rolled off the edge of the table! But then, that´s one of the nicer things about this site: conversations are able to go beyond a suffocatingly tight remit, opening up all manner of avenues which might otherwise have been left undiscovered. Denied this fresh input, one might as well just write memos to oneself. Or is that really all we are doing?
The Jay article didn´t impress me greatly - I have read much the same sort of thing over and over again, almost stock-in-trade for many teachers, I would think. As with so much material, it comes down to little more than a recycling operation; nothing new comes from it other than the signature at the end.
Another thing which has been voiced here is the assumption of superiority of art over craft. Really?
Perhaps that might be worth some examination. I have seen many more well-made commercial photographs in my day than I have so-called art ones. Indeed, many of the former would, in my estimation, outclass much of the latter. Not only outclass it in purely technical terms but also in emotional content and expression. Let´s think for a moment about architectural photography; let´s ask ourselves if great shots of, say, a city skyline or a new hotel building are any less worthy than Mr Adams´s mountains, the former to commission and the Adams to please his muse. The guy working for a commercial client has to deliver the goods as well as create something outstanding. (I speak here of upmarket photographers/clients.) Art might or might not be seen by the client, perhaps even though it is by the photographer, but success within a more rigorous regime seems more worthy to me than the fluke in the field, even if the fluke has had many similar iterations to get it right!
I have a feeling that there is probably more difference between the photographic mindset and the painterly one than might be imagined. In general, painters I have know have been totally obsessed with their work, making a living coming a poor second, possibly why so many end up teaching: not a lot more is available to them sans private means or immediate gallery glory. Photographers, on the other hand, seem to be more business minded (I can hear the names Hirst and Warhol being screamed at the computers in protest) in general and able to combine the work they love with some form of it that enables a living to be scratched. This is not to say that photographers often make good businessmen - probably far from it - which is why I wrote scratched. But nonetheless, many do manage to combine the branch of photography that grabs them and also the moneymaking sort, not often the same, I´m afraid. Also, I feel photographers make more willing prostitutes.
All this stuff about photographer´s intention, viewer´s interpretation, it all sounds exactly what I´d think of as camera club psychology. Why can´t a photograph (or a painting) just be bloody good or simply lousy? There really isn´t much room for Mr In-between.
Ray´s approach might be the most honest: shoot what is interesting at the time, worry about it later. But that is the preserve of he who has no need to earn his keep from the thing. Perhaps the reality is that we shall never get closer to any definition of art than to say that in many media there are examples of it but those are rare in number. I remember a somewhat glib statement somewhere that there is no art only artists. Maybe the two sentences could run together.
Rob C
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I find George's essay and this conversation very reflective of where my mind spends a lot of its time. I did a lot of large format landscape photography in my youth, some 40+ years ago, including dye transfer printing, etc. I gave it up when I concluded, rightly or not, that most people didn't "get" my work, then after a 35+ year hiatus of career and raising a family, I found myself drawn back to take photography "seriously" again. In that interim, and since, I've become much more aware of the masters beyond Adams and Weston who were considered the gods of that era.
I took an extended photo trip two years ago, and indeed found it not to be worth the effort to photography cliches like Monument Valley or the Grand Tetons. When I saw the Grand Canyon for the first time, I realized that the hundreds of "art" photographs I had seen for sixty some years were about as close to the real experience as a toy car is to a grand prix racer. While photographs of beautiful landscapes can be occasionally breathtaking, once I exhale I find there's rarely any substance, or meat on the bone, to stimulate or maintain my interest.
I got back into photography when I came across a Joel Meyerowitz photo of a farm field of dying sun flowers from his Tuscany work. It was like a light bulb turning on. It wasn't pretty, just remarkable. The other day I came across a postage-size reproduction of a Stieglitz photo of a steam engine in a rail yard that blows me away. Most of Ansel's work I find a bit tedious, but "Moonrise over Hernandez" I would put at the top of a list of great photographic art.
It seems to me that most great visual art includes a human element, directly or indirectly. I think the exceptions to this are far fewer than the examples. Of course there's nothing we find more interesting than our fellow man, be it to praise, curse, or just be amused by his/her actions and folly. Show me a photo of grand landscape and I may say "wow" for a moment, but include a foot path or telephone pole and I'll be engaged, perhaps for a lifetime.
I must acknowledge however, that occasionally I come across what I'd call a personal landscape which can also be engaging, and I think that's what Eliot Porter was a master of. These are almost intentionally un-grand, but display a deep level of nature's irony of complexity or simplicity or contrast of the two. George referred to this in his comments re moving to the close and middle ground.
Perhaps why photographing beauty is so difficult is because the subject is usually vacuous, almost freakish. It has little to do with what most people experience being alive on this small planet.
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Peripatetic: I don't want to seem mean, but I have the feeling that you have no idea what we're talking about.
Ray: You said, "I feel a bit uncomfortable getting into discussions that centre around the age old question, 'What is art?' I sense there's usually a lot of snobbery and pretentiousness in such discussions."
You're right, but you equivocate with the word "usually," so you may sense that sometimes there's *not* snobbery and pretentiousness in such discussions. In fact, the hardest-nosed, most accomplished artists in the world (Picasso, for example, or Degas) spent a lot of time thinking and talking about the subject, because it seriously concerned them. If you want to be an artist, you *must* think about it.
I also pretty much agree with Bill Jay's view: there is tremendous value in doing the work, whether you're going to be a significant artist or a fine craftsman. And why do it at all if you don't want to be one or the other, or both? If you're really not interested, get a P&S, put the camera dial on "P," and there you go, you can actually get pretty good snapshots at Christmas. Most of my photography is in photojournalism and one thing that I know for sure is that if I haven't shot for a while, I won't do it as well, or even *think* about it as well, as if I've been shooting a lot. Then, there's always the example of Bach, with the "Well-Tempered Clavier," or Ansel Adams with his "Photograph" series -- some significant artists have also been significant theorists and technicians.
I don't really dissent from any of the ways of achieving various levels of technical expertise, but would suggest that you you can get to *any* level of technical expertise and not be an artist; on the other hand, you can be less than technically fine and still be an artist (Ralph Eugene Meatyard.) In the video "The War Photographer," James Nachtwey is shown working with his printer. There's no question here of who is the artist (Nachtwey) but there's also seems to be little question of who can print better (the other guy) -- this is one clear example of the difference between art and technique.
I wonder if this applies to people like Jeff Wall, though? I like Wall's work, but I wonder if he dreams of photography, or of his scenes, or views, or whatever he calls them, and that the camera is just an annoyance that he has to put up with?
JC
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Peripatetic: I don't want to seem mean, but I have the feeling that you have no idea what we're talking about.
JC
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I think I may have to invoke Poe's Law here.
Seriously though, there is something very different about photography. It is possible with a very good camera to accidentally take a great picture. It is also possible to take tens or hundred thousands of photographs and later edit down to a few great ones, the editing may not even be done by the person who took the picture.
These things are not possible with a paintbrush, chisel or a piano. There is no way to accidentally create great work in those media. You must spend years honing your craft, have "vision", and persistence and create something from nothing.
Every year now, I go to the annual competitions for portraits and photographic portraits at the National Portrait Gallery. I walk away from the painting competition thoroughly humbled and in awe. And I walk away from the photographic portrait competition increasingly convinced that by getting the art world to accept photography we have hoodwinked them.
The point I am trying to make is that I sometimes have the feeling that I really don't have any idea what we are all talking about, that it is much sound without significance. Sometimes I find myself right in there taking all this talk seriously and then I have a mind flip and think that we are discussing the cut and weave of the emperor's new clothes; if photography can be art at all it is the runt of the group, and we should know better than to try to accord it gravitas through these discussions.
How is the decisive moment visionary? How far ahead do you have to have this vision? A day, an hour, a split second, or not at all? Can we produce art by shooting from the hip and editing it down later? Does it matter if you sit there for days and plan and visionise away, at the perfect time I happen by and snap the same shot as you, quite accidentally pressing the shutter. Our pictures are the same. Doesn't that in fact mean that neither of us is an artist?
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You're right, but you equivocate with the word "usually," so you may sense that sometimes there's *not* snobbery and pretentiousness in such discussions. In fact, the hardest-nosed, most accomplished artists in the world (Picasso, for example, or Degas) spent a lot of time thinking and talking about the subject, because it seriously concerned them. If you want to be an artist, you *must* think about it.
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John,
Didn't Picasso remark, upon seeing the 30,000 year old cave paintings at Altamira, that there had been no progress in art since that time (or words to that effect)?
Picasso's art seems to me to be a regression to primitivism. It has its appeal, although I confess I am not wildly enthusiastic about the art of Picasso, and I doubt that those 30,00O year old Neanderthal types would have appreciated it.
What we need here are some clear definitions of the term 'art' as opposed to 'craft'. A distinction I can see, is that 'craft' tends to be more concerned with technique as an end in itself, whereas 'art' is attempting to use technique for another purpose. The bricklayer does his job, as he's been trained to do. The architect calls the shots.
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I guess we are not the first to have conversations like what we have above...see here... (http://www.rleggat.com/photohistory/history/demachy.htm)
It's just interesting to read how photo-manipulations influence the discussion of art versus craft...
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So really, all we are doing today is keeping alive the dialogue of the start of last century!
Plus ça change etc......
Rob C
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We seemed to have navigated quite a few twists and turns in this thread, which was originally a post from Jerry to say thanks to George for his article. Anyone still remember the article?
Anyway, I came across the following links today. While they have nothing to do with photography they may be tangentially related to this discussion. Dale Chihuly is a glass artist who has taken glass blowing to an entirely different level than has probably ever been done before. If you're not familiar with his work, try this site: http://www.chihuly.com/ (http://www.chihuly.com/)
Now, whether or not you like his work, it's hard not to be impressed with the level to which he has taken 'glass art'. OTOH, there was a review written by Kenneth Baker of the San Francisco Chronicle, here:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?.../DD9811I6MN.DTL (http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/07/04/DD9811I6MN.DTL) where he essentially says that Chihuly's work looks as though the gift shop has finally overrun the gallery. Now he's certainly entitled to his opinion - we all must be or none of us are - but the question remains... is this craft, or art?
And if I'm taking this too far away from Jerry's original post, well, I still like George's article!
Mike.
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Received Stephen Johnson's latest e-newsletter today (http://www.sjphoto.com/newsletterframset-9-08.html) and he has a short article that fits in with this thread:
"Reflections on Mastery
Looking ahead to 2009, even late 2008, I'll be on the road quite a bit. I'm working on an Alaskan workshop for early August 2009, perhaps even another Galapagos trip, definitely Iceland. In planning these trips the biggest thrill is the chance to show others some of the wonders I've seen. It is a very different sharing than the photographs themselves, but it is at the heart of teaching and encouraging inspiration.
Travel lately seems mostly about teaching, and therefore sharing, helping, nurturing and sometimes just plain old pep talks. Sometimes talks about slowing down and looking carefully. I always learn from my students, always end up seeing things my eyes alone would miss. It is a very rich experience. It's no wonder so many people want to do the teaching gig. It's a shame more of them aren't good teachers. I hear horror stories of indifference and self-absorption all of the time. I also hear great stories of wonderful experiences.
Many of the people teaching out there self-declare themselves to be Masters. Not only is this lack of humility rather shocking, it also seems that when self-declared it is almost never true. Mastery is never reached, it is only reached for, in my opinion, new and more distant aspirations keep pulling us forward, reaching, always reaching, for that perfect execution.
I am very suspicious of self-declared masters, or notions of mastery in general. It is a bit like the word genius, so overused as to almost lose meaning. I remember a story about Einstein getting some help in the early 50's at Princeton in an area which he knew little. In the middle of a rather detailed unload by the improvised lecturer, Dr. Albert said something to the effect, can you slow down, I'm not as smart as they say.
Photography is about vision and craft. Both can be made stronger in us, but they are very different. The image is non-verbal, often intuitive and always visual. The craft is care, experience, patience and detail. Meshing the two can be challenging, as they seem to draw upon different parts of the brain and personality. Both can be aided through teaching, but in very different ways. We are in age of craft defined as tips and tricks, and little discussion of vision at all. Craft is not tricky; it is plain hard work and care. Vision cannot be taught in and of itself, but sensitivities can be recognized and encouraged, as can strong design.
Neither my workshops, nor anyone else's, can make you a master. It is about the aspiration to master the medium of photography to your level of satisfaction, and perhaps go even a bit beyond. It is about intensive photographic experiences that challenge your mind, heart and soul to make art. My workshops discuss technical issues and procedures, but the emphasis remains on content and asking the most of your commitment to photography as art. But even that remains a journey, not a destination, the aspiration and seductions keep changing, growing, staying tantalizingly out of reach, but hopefully bringing ever more beauty and satisfaction to your craft and vision.
Of course making art always has its ups and downs. It's often a struggle to keep working, and impossible to feel good unless you are working. It's often lonely, and maybe has to be, as that is sometimes the only way to concentrate, to find that one instance that has to be held now, shared now, almost obsessively, certainly with a unique concentration and passion.
In those senses, it is not about mastery, it is about necessity.
Make the Art (a song from 1999)
I can make the art
I've got a vision to put out there
but it's fragile at its heart
and can fall to despair
Workin' all day and night
pourin' heart and soul
to keep those dreams alive
that blood pumped and flowin'
What is really at the heart of art
a passion struggle from the very start
I try so hard, so hard to see
try so hard to make it seen
There's rarely money
to ease your mind
no security over time
but a hunger to the core
seeking light like some mythic lore
I move around this great big world
see such beauty and intricacy
I want to hold it like some precious love
let another soul see and believe
Pushin, pushin' hard
light fallin' into form
reachin', always reachin'
for that perfect execution
Its instinct, it's drive
to shape the world through your eyes
you go way up, and way down
fighting for some faith and hope
Workin' all day and night
pourin' heart and soul
to keep those dreams alive
that blood pumped and flowin'
What is really at the heart of art
it's a passion struggle from the very start
I try so hard, so hard to see
I want so bad to make it seen
Out on a cliff, on the edge
earth and sky filling my eyes
the brush of a breeze
space like infinity
Out on the trail till you ache
the next horizon is too far away
but we gotta press on, we gotta see the dawn
from that hill way over there
What is really at the heart of art
it's a passion struggle from the very start
I try so hard, so hard to see
I want so bad to make it seen
-Steve Johnson"
Also in the newsletter is a recommendation for this book - "Art & Fear: Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking" by David Bayles & Ted Orland. I haven't read it, but it sounds interesting...
Mike.
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Thank you all for your kind comments.
All the best,
George
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Hi George, thanks for your article...you do touch on some of the issues I face daily. I feel you're right about not being able to recreate ones experience via a photo. I would never go to a show of landscape paintings or photographs to experience nature. And although humanity has created many amazing things I wouldn't go to a museum expecting to experience beauty. That is a vast subject in itself. What is beauty?
I don't agree with the writings here about what an artist, a real artist is or isn't compared to a craftsman. I don't think it's about ideas necessarily either. People have lots of ideas. It doesn't make them worthwhile or important.
My own feeling is that people are not personally responsible for 'original' ideas. I don't think the individual is the source. I feel it comes from 'without' and that people are just a conduit for the intelligence that's in the universe. I don't feel it's a matter of education or information either. So many educated people on this planet, so many libraries filled with information and humanity, as a whole, is as confused and chaotic as ever.
The human brain/mind is an amazing thing. It lives in the past, in the future, it can harness experience, information, ideas, etc. and turn them on its head, but I don't feel ideas are the source of 'art' or the 'new' as described here in this thread. Ideas or thought are based always on the old. I feel 'insight', something the human brain can't control or guide is the seat or starting place of the new. And that isn't dependant on ideas or education.
The human landscape is full of examples of people educated and not who have furthered our collective intelligence. Django Reinhardt is an example of an artist with no formal training. I guess one can't say if he had an 'idea' about where music should go, but my feel is he was living his life, doing what he felt, absorbing from everything around him, and the music, the style, the influence he had on others just happened. I don't feel he planned anything.
I'd go as far as to say that any 'significant' artist, those viewed as having had major influence in any field, was just doing what they were doing, living their life, and what they created was as much chance as 'will'. Sure, honing a technique, practice, will push toward a more developed product but the original seed was there. I'm not sure anyone can, as of today, say it was because of something in the way one's brain works, (thought/ideas), influence, genetics, or a combination of it all.
I guess I'm saying originality isn't planned, thought out, the fruit of an idea. If it is it isn't original. We are in a state of constant becoming and that's where I do my work, and my thinking, kvetching, and maybe the work will one day bring something new and maybe it won't. I do my work without worrying about the universal importance. I love what I do. I see what others do and try to learn every day. No matter if it's photography, music, writing, painting, or living life...there's always learning that needs to be done.
George, I feel all your suggestions are valid, all six, but it'll be an individual thing about what makes sense to one person versus another. I mean like question #3, that gets pretty abstract. I personally find #6 the most crucial for me because I don't know what the viewer might get from an image I create. All I can do is create something that makes sense to me, or baffles me in a way I find intriguing. I think the first five questions ask things I cannot answer. I guess my view of my photography work is that. Creating something that isn't the thing photographed. Does that make sense?...I mean it's like the images you show in your article, especially Badlands which I love. It's something abstract that's taken on a life of it's own. No one will experience it the way you did. And no one will equate your photo with the place and their own experience should they visit that same spot.
kind regards
M
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M:
you raise an interesting point. You say that you wouldn't go to a show of paintings or photography to experience the landscape. Certainly no image is going to give you the same five sense experience as standing at the edge of the cliff in the warm evening light, looking down into the valley, with the river twisting it's way and the scattered trees casting long shadows.
On the other hand, I can imagine a painting (or a photograph) giving me the feeling of the light coming through the branches in a way that an overall representative image won't and I can imagine recreating that feeling every time I look at the image. I can imagine an image which uses a long lens to focus on those trees and their long shadows, at the edge of the twisting river, the twists emphasized with the long lens recreating the feeling of looking down into the valley.
I think that well composed, selectively framed images of some of the subject matter can express specific feelings even more strongly than standing there looking can do, even though they can't capture the entire experience.
I can imagine touring a gallery of great landscape images and in one being impressed with the majesty of a rock face - more than standing there at lunch time on a pleasant sunny day can do. I can see myself looking at the next image and admiring the fine tracery of some ferns perfectly composed by the photographer, in a way that walking down the trail and passing the ferns myself wouldn't do.
Photography lets us emphasize the things that many people, even other photographers, overlook, ignore or discount and unimportant and suddenly they have meaning.
I think this is why photographers who insist on showing the whole thing frequently fail - they aren't showing us anything new, there is no personal perspective, no interpretation of what is seen. Other than as an illustration, they fail to involve us.
George
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Also in the newsletter is a recommendation for this book - "Art & Fear" by David Bayles & Ted Orland. I haven't read it, but it sounds interesting...
Mike.
[a href=\"index.php?act=findpost&pid=221292\"][{POST_SNAPBACK}][/a]
Art & Fear is very interesting. It addresses many of the issues related to the difficulty of doing creative work, taking chances, expressing yourself, etc. While we don't all face each and every difficulty addressed in the book, it is eye opening to see how far reaching this can be.
ALain
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On the other hand, I can imagine a painting (or a photograph) giving me the feeling of the light coming through the branches in a way that an overall representative image won't and I can imagine recreating that feeling every time I look at the image.
George
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Absolutely. To use a photo that is sometimes called a cliche (though it isn't), I suspect 999 out of 1000 photographers would have driven right past Adams' "Moonrise" shot. Even if you go there, you don't get what's in the photo, because the photo seems to condense all the possibilities of the scene; it stands on its own as a work of art. I think that one great gift that significant artists have is that in their best shots or paintings, they make us see things that aren't really there for us in nature -- I mean they're *there,* but we don't recognize them. When they're pulled into a photo, we suddenly have the eyes to see them. But it has to be a radical shot in some way: when people become accustomed to certain kinds of shots (glowing aspens in the evening light, mountains reflected in lakes) then those shots are simply flicked away without any real consideration. They've become mental postcards.
JC
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Absolutely. To use a photo that is sometimes called a cliche (though it isn't), I suspect 999 out of 1000 photographers would have driven right past Adams' "Moonrise" shot. Even if you go there, you don't get what's in the photo, because the photo seems to condense all the possibilities of the scene; it stands on its own as a work of art. I think that one great gift that significant artists have is that in their best shots or paintings, they make us see things that aren't really there for us in nature -- I mean they're *there,* but we don't recognize them. When they're pulled into a photo, we suddenly have the eyes to see them. But it has to be a radical shot in some way: when people become accustomed to certain kinds of shots (glowing aspens in the evening light, mountains reflected in lakes) then those shots are simply flicked away without any real consideration. They've become mental postcards.
JC
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John,
I always find that example of Adams' Moonrise shot very illuminating. It's a fine example of a merging of 'art' and 'craft'. From memory of the story behind this shot, Ansel is driving along the highway, gets a glimpse of the moon rising over the township of Hernandez; car screeches to a halt; Ansel grabs his large format camera which has a filter attached for another purpose; has no time to remove the filter or take an accurate exposure reading with his lightmeter because lighting conditions are changing fast; makes a quick mental calculation of the exposure required, then takes the shot.
Not having had time to apply his 'zone' system, the shot is technically flawed, so he has to spend hours (or days) in the darkroom, manipulating and massaging the image in order to recreate that initial experience which inspired him to take the shot.
Have I got the story right?
To get back to Picasso, at some point in his career he began trying to paint what he felt rather than what he saw. We all know the result. His paintings gradually began to resemble less and less the real world as most of us see it, to the point where many of his painting of the human form could be considered more like representations of alien life.
This seems to me to be the quintessential element of 'painting art' which photography struggles to compete with.
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M:
you raise an interesting point. You say that you wouldn't go to a show of paintings or photography to experience the landscape. Certainly no image is going to give you the same five sense experience as standing at the edge of the cliff in the warm evening light, looking down into the valley, with the river twisting it's way and the scattered trees casting long shadows.
On the other hand, I can imagine a painting (or a photograph) giving me the feeling of the light coming through the branches in a way that an overall representative image won't and I can imagine recreating that feeling every time I look at the image. I can imagine an image which uses a long lens to focus on those trees and their long shadows, at the edge of the twisting river, the twists emphasized with the long lens recreating the feeling of looking down into the valley.
I think that well composed, selectively framed images of some of the subject matter can express specific feelings even more strongly than standing there looking can do, even though they can't capture the entire experience.
I can imagine touring a gallery of great landscape images and in one being impressed with the majesty of a rock face - more than standing there at lunch time on a pleasant sunny day can do. I can see myself looking at the next image and admiring the fine tracery of some ferns perfectly composed by the photographer, in a way that walking down the trail and passing the ferns myself wouldn't do.
Photography lets us emphasize the things that many people, even other photographers, overlook, ignore or discount and unimportant and suddenly they have meaning.
I think this is why photographers who insist on showing the whole thing frequently fail - they aren't showing us anything new, there is no personal perspective, no interpretation of what is seen. Other than as an illustration, they fail to involve us.
George
[a href=\"index.php?act=findpost&pid=221423\"][{POST_SNAPBACK}][/a]
Thanks George...I think you're right on target with everything you say here...
M
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These things are not possible with a paintbrush, chisel or a piano. There is no way to accidentally create great work in those media. [a href=\"index.php?act=findpost&pid=221090\"][{POST_SNAPBACK}][/a]
Mostly true - but it is possible to get serendipitous effects, especially with more fluid media like watercolours. And as an enthusiast for raku and woodfired pottery, that can very definitely be accidental in outcome - even though it's mostly thought of as a craft.
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There have been several comparisons in this thread to painting, music and of coiurse the original scene itself. What is art? What is craft? These are all valid questions and answers given within the thread.
However, to the original article and questions, I have a tremendous concern about what we self-proclaim to be "art". Is a photograph taken at sunset from Hopi Point "art"? Yes? Are you sure? What differentiates YOUR picture from the ones taken by the soccermoms with pocketcameras? THOSE are snapshots, right?
Size is the answer. YOUR photograph is "art" because the print is taken with a 21MP camera and printed with pigment inks on canvas big enough to cover a mattress!
I'm sorry to disappoint you, but what most of us try to pass off as "art" is nothing more than high-tech snapshots.
Give me an "original performance" (like a painting) or something compelling to look at. Most of what we are showing in galleries and at art shows are no more exciting and original than a bunch of high-school kids jamming away in the basement trying to play a classic rock song.
Unfortunately, the majority of pictures WE ARE TAKING and PRINTING UP LARGE (yes I am yelling) are snapshots and no more interesting that Uncle Frank's slide show that we all had to sit through of his vacation to Gettysburg.
No amount of pixels are going to change this. Save your money on that new Canon 5D Mk II. The majority of us have already placed our orders for this camera in the hopes that it will somehow magically raise our snapshots to a greater level. Sorry, it won't. All it will do is allow us to make more technologically perfect snapshots.
I know, I've gone to medling. We all know that the 5D Mk II is the answer to all our problems and will be the key to future success.
Ken
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image66
You are, of course, bang on the money, but the point here is that there is always the exception that breaks the mould.
I agree that very little that is shown here or, for that matter, anywhere else, rings my chimes as art. This is quite sad, because despite what the art-selling sites tell you, I believe the monitor shows pictures at their very best; so much for the half-promise that things on paper will be so much better once you´ve paid your money and wait for your print. Really? I thought the difficulty was matching the print to the screen, not the other way around... bloody cynic, Rob C.
I have no idea if people really do spend big money in a progression of camera upgrades believing that the next one after this will make their pics better - it might be closer to the truth to say that people learn fairly soon whether they do or do not have the gift for photography, but feel compelled through peer pressure or something Jonesey to spend even more in a game of cosmetic oneupmanship - good for the camera companies, though...
Putting people through a slideshow is a bit much unless they really do push you to do the show. I had an uncle, R.I.P., that I connected with sombody wanting to sell a Leica IIIG or similar; he bought the damn thing and spent years going around Scotland shooting castles, giving us a slideshow whenever he came into our neck of the woods; when not castles, it was his two little dogs. Help! That is not to be cruel - just how it is (was). Perhaps some photography is best enjoyed as a solitary art!
But as I said, there is the exception every now and then, one such was a slideshow by Sam Haskins many years ago. Beautiful stuff, intimidating in its way, but also very inspirational. I can´t really think of another show like that, with the photographer there to answer questions, that I have been to see. Exhibitions are different, but even then, I remember being disappointed by Helmut Newton but thrilled by Don McCullin. I saw an exhibition in Hamiltons Gallery in London many moons ago - Mapplethorpe´s brother; sorry, not a lot to say about that either, other than I would not have gone to see the infamous brother´s work.
I suppose you have to take what you like and disregard the rest.
Rob C
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Several participants in this discussion have come down very negatively about photography as art, not because of an argument with the definition but simply because they have not seen a lot of (presumably current) photography that stirs them. I think there are several things going on here.
1) response to an image depends not only on the photographer but the life experiences of the viewer. Why is it that Pepper # 30 melts my insides while leaving my daughter entirely unmoved?
2) Even if you find a photographer whose images you like, you are almost certain to find only a small percentage that really move you, others you can admire, and not a few you "just don't get". This is normal. If we use the music analogy - not all Beethoven music will affect you to the same degree, or in the same way.
3) The vast majority of photographers do not go out of their way to study, acquire and understand a goodly variety of photographs, photographers, styles and genres. How many books of photographs do you own? Note that I'm not talking books on photography here.
4) I know for myself, I didn't get anything but landscape photography until I took a photograph appreciation course and it changed the way I look at an image and vastly increased my appreciation for all manner of photography other than classic landscape. I don't get jazz. I fully realize this is my deficiency. I suspect that if I took the trouble to take a jazz appreciation course, it could change that 180 degrees.
5) the more we know about photography, the higher our standards become and the less frequently an image will really excite or move us but those images are out there, they are still being made and intelligent people are being moved by them. If nothing else, check out some of the recommendations on Photo.Net (http://www.photo.net). I have seen some surprisingly nice photography that way.
George
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On Flickr there are probably about a billion different groups devoted to different subject matter, and they range from 'vacation' shots of the family to earnestly created images of varying quality to some very high quality images. What is art is a very broad term, and of course user-defined, but when I go to Flickr and check out some of the images I do sometimes find inspiration there. One group that I belong to is this one: http://www.flickr.com/groups/top_photography/ (http://www.flickr.com/groups/top_photography/) and the work there is usually above average. These are not photographs that I own, but for me they suit the purpose that George refers to: "The vast majority of photographers do not go out of their way to study, acquire and understand a goodly variety of photographs, photographers, styles and genres. How many books of photographs do you own? Note that I'm not talking books on photography here."
Mike.
P.S. I have several books of photographs too!
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The link on the LL Main Page to George Barr's article seems to be broken. Does anyone have an idea as to how I might access it? (I also went looking on Mr. Barr's website but I was unable to find it there, either. It links back to Ll.)
Tks! -TomJB
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The link on the LL Main Page to George Barr's article seems to be broken. Does anyone have an idea as to how I might access it? (I also went looking on Mr. Barr's website but I was unable to find it there, either. It links back to Ll.)
Tks! -TomJB
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