Luminous Landscape Forum
The Art of Photography => User Critiques => Topic started by: John R Smith on January 13, 2011, 06:00:03 am
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There seems to be little hope for my old ambition to rival Adams or Weston in the annals of photographic greatness. Their reputations are most unlikely to be perturbed by Smith’s efforts here in the wintry depths of Cornwall, and one of the reasons for this is my unwavering ability to make a total hash of things when there is, for once, a good subject in front my lens. Looking back through last year’s frames, I find that there is an uncanny correlation between the shots I like best from an artistic viewpoint, and the fact that most of them are also wrongly exposed, poorly focused, suffer from mirror-slap, or contain some other horrible technical fault. Whereas my perfect, sharp, technically wonderful shots are very often the most forgettable. The cruel unfairness of the human condition bears down upon us all, I suppose (background violins here).
This one is a case in point. I downloaded the image onto my trusty PC and found to my horror that I had really pushed my luck with the old 60mm rather too far. It has a very apologetic lens hood and not much in the way of coating, and I had shot far too tight into the sun. Consequently, and inevitably, the top part of the sky was covered in nasty pentagons, and the rest of the shot was flared out with pretty much zero contrast. Instead of instantly binning it, which I probably should have done, I decided to try to rescue something from the wreckage. The pentagoned sky obviously had to go, so a heavy crop resulted in more of a panoramic frame than originally intended. Then there was rather a lot of work in LR restoring some contrast, and locally burning-in bits like the fence-posts. The unedited version had virtually no sky detail at all, but miraculously some highlight recovery and a heavy top grad filter restored the clouds – don’t ask for any more, though, ‘cos it really isn’t there. We still have some problems, but funnily enough this picture somehow sums up the mood of the afternoon for me. See what you think – was it worth a rescue Job?
John
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John I find my eye wandering around the image instead of settling on something significant. A pleasant image at best. On a sour note the anti - photoshoppers will seize on your description of what you have done to the image and condemn you to everlasting purgatory. :) What you did - I haven't obviously seen the original - you have done well and the finished image is well processed. Perhaps it isn't best to describe what you did and present it as an image taken as seen. BTW I definitely don't have an issue with your processing. ;D
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On a sour note the anti - photoshoppers will seize on your description of what you have done to the image and condemn you to everlasting purgatory. :) What you did - I haven't obviously seen the original - you have done well and the finished image is well processed. Perhaps it isn't best to describe what you did and present it as an image taken as seen. BTW I definitely don't have an issue with your processing. ;D
Gosh - surely no-one could take exception to the sort of basic manipulation we B/W photographers would have done in the darkroom? I've done far more than that to my prints under the red glow of the safelight, that's for sure.
John
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There is a definite "clique" out there that would state that you are committing photographic butchery. I have listened in the last week to some of them and I have been "lectured" by one of them who has taken a degree course in photography. Water off a duck's arse to me but they are insistent. I tend to post images and leave it up to the viewers to work out if I have enhanced an image. It is their problem .... not mine. :) ;) ;D
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Consequently, and inevitably, the top part of the sky was covered in nasty pentagons, and the rest of the shot was flared out with pretty much zero contrast. Instead of instantly binning it, which I probably should have done, I decided to try to rescue something from the wreckage. The pentagoned sky obviously had to go, so a heavy crop resulted in more of a panoramic frame than originally intended. Then there was rather a lot of work in LR restoring some contrast, and locally burning-in bits like the fence-posts. The unedited version had virtually no sky detail at all, but miraculously some highlight recovery and a heavy top grad filter restored the clouds – don’t ask for any more, though, ‘cos it really isn’t there. We still have some problems, but funnily enough this picture somehow sums up the mood of the afternoon for me. See what you think – was it worth a rescue Job?
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Please substitute the word crop for guillotined....there are some sensitive souls on here. :) ;)
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John,
I am sorry to hear about the suffering you went through (it's all too familiar to me), but I judge an image on what it looks like and the mood it evokes for me, and I like this image. I enjoy wandering down that road, wondering where it will lead me. I, too, have a fondness for wandering roads.
Eric
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Eric
Thanks for your post. I am glad you took it in the spirit in which it was intended ;)
Funnily enough, I find this particular lane very bewitching. It is about 20 mins walk from my cottage to this viewpoint, and I really find it difficult to turn around to go back home. Many's the time I have wandered on, especially in spring, and walked another couple of miles.
John
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I'm with Eric on this one. I enjoy letting my eye wander down the road into the trees. And I am a firm believer that it doesn't matter what you had to do to get the image where it is; all that matters is the image itself, and I like it. If I can offer one nitpick, I would say that the fencepost to the far right is too close to the edge for my taste (it draws my eye away from the road). But it really is a minor point. It's a pleasant stroll for my eye to take.
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I'm with Eric on this one. I enjoy letting my eye wander down the road into the trees. And I am a firm believer that it doesn't matter what you had to do to get the image where it is; all that matters is the image itself, and I like it. If I can offer one nitpick, I would say that the fencepost to the far right is too close to the edge for my taste (it draws my eye away from the road). But it really is a minor point. It's a pleasant stroll for my eye to take.
I agree!
Mike.
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... was it worth a rescue Job?
Technically, it appears you did a decent rescue job. Image-wise, however, it is rather empty, devoid of a center of interest or a meaning, especially for us not emotionally attached to the place.
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"it is rather empty"
i rather thought that was the point of it. It reminds me of the hot , desolate, summers when the wheat was ready to combine. The clouds and sun were just that way. i would imagine a cool creek pool in the cluster of woods at the bottom of the hill, perhaps with a nice fish or two to catch.
and then there was Grandma's fresh out of the oven, picked that morning, apple pie.... :) :) :)
Frank
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Technically, it appears you did a decent rescue job. Image-wise, however, it is rather empty, devoid of a center of interest or a meaning, especially for us not emotionally attached to the place.
The last phrase about .... emotionally attached to the place. That is the difference between the person who took the image - and lives there - and the "spectator" who looks at it. The first is more subjective and the latter more objective. The first remembers how it looked like in reality and the latter compares it to other scenes they have seen. Therefore the lukewarm response by some. :)
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Folks
Thank you all for your contributions. It’s rather fun when something generates quite polarised responses, at least we have something to debate. I posted this picture with a somewhat self-mocking commentary just to cheer us all up a bit, and to let you know that although I do take my photography quite seriously (in the sense that I try to do it as well as I can) I really try not to take myself seriously if at all possible. Great Art this is not.
But it is always nice when someone else gets exactly what you are trying to do -
It reminds me of the hot , desolate, summers when the wheat was ready to combine. The clouds and sun were just that way. i would imagine a cool creek pool in the cluster of woods at the bottom of the hill, perhaps with a nice fish or two to catch.
and then there was Grandma's fresh out of the oven, picked that morning, apple pie.... :) :) :)
Frank
Thank you, Frank, for that. You made my day.
John
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Gosh - surely no-one could take exception to the sort of basic manipulation we B/W photographers would have done in the darkroom? I've done far more than that to my prints under the red glow of the safelight, that's for sure.
John
John, Surely no one should take exception to the kind of recovery operation you described. But there always are those who will take exception to anything that doesn't fit inside their tight little world. Procrustes comes to mind. The only legitimate complaints are about the kind of postprocessing that takes Trotsky out of the picture. Interesting point about the darkroom. There are people out there who've never shot anything but digital and never worked in a darkroom and believe that film always portrays exactly what the camera saw.
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There are people out there who've never shot anything but digital and never worked in a darkroom and believe that film always portrays exactly what the camera saw.
Yes, I suppose so. The only time that you used something "straight out of the camera", though, was with transparencies. Which is why shooting 'chromes or E6 was such a good discipline. With B/W film, on the other hand, the negative was always just the starting point. I have never made any attempt for some sort of "realism" in my B/W work, and neither did people like Bill Brandt.
It is interesting, because everything I have done to this shot you could have got straight out of Ansel's classic book "The Print", only of course I did it in LR. In the darkroom I would have got exactly the same result with a crop of the sky (using my easel on the enlarger baseboard), raising the contrast by printing on grade 5 paper, making some small local dodges and burns, and finishing with a deep sky burn using a large card. It would have taken a couple of workprints, but I would have got there.
Actually, the amusing part is that people have got all this amazing digital technology now but are incredibly timid about using it, it seems to me. Back in my darkroom days we were doing solarisations, posterisation, liths, paper negatives, combining two negatives and all sorts of stuff, and I can't remember anyone ever saying it was unethical. They might have said the results were crap, though ;)
John
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Actually, the amusing part is that people have got all this amazing digital technology now but are incredibly timid about using it, it seems to me. Back in my darkroom days we were doing solarisations, posterisation, liths, paper negatives, combining two negatives and all sorts of stuff, and I can't remember anyone ever saying it was unethical. They might have said the results were crap, though ;)
John
John, I have to confess that since I'm a pretty "straight" photographer the thought "crap" often pops into my mind when I see that kind of thing. Not that I didn't play with those effects when I had a darkroom. But leaving the results in the darkroom wastebasket had nothing to do with ethics. It was a quality judgment.
It's interesting to think about the difference in approach between Ansel and HCB. Ansel's famous statement: "The negative is the score. The print is the performance." pretty much sums up the attitude of those for whom the print is an "objet d'art," a large part of whose value lies in its uniqueness. On the other hand, Henri saw value not in the uniqueness of a print but in the content and composition of the photograph. In effect, Ansel said, "This print is an object I created," while Henri said, "This is a photograph I made."
Ansel's attitude comes to photography from painting and printmaking and leads inevitably to such precious absurdities as limited edition prints. But if you share Ansel's attitude you're free to change a photograph as much as you want in post-processing, even to creating something that probably would have been better if created with a brush; even perhaps to converting a picture of a sow's ear into a picture of a silk purse.
I can't knock the Ansel approach. I certainly learned a lot about exposure and printmaking from his books. But the idea that the print is the performance just isn't my cup of tea. What I shoot for in post-processing is a correct rendition of what I saw when I tripped the shutter. Interestingly, it sounds as if that's what you were after with the Lane to Downgate. Since it's a landscape, I guess that instead of going through the steps you went through I'd simply have gone back the next day and made the shot again. Better yet, if I were shooting digital I'd have checked the LCD, which ought to have shown the lens flares, and made a few more shots, probably bracketed.
But each of us has his own way of doing things.
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"it is rather empty"
i rather thought that was the point of it. It reminds me of the hot , desolate, summers when the wheat was ready to combine. The clouds and sun were just that way. i would imagine a cool creek pool in the cluster of woods at the bottom of the hill, perhaps with a nice fish or two to catch.
and then there was Grandma's fresh out of the oven, picked that morning, apple pie.... :) :) :)
Frank
You obviously have that emotional attachment to the place (i.e., places like that), so it nicely illustrates the point I was making.
As for my "rather empty" comment, an image does not necessarily have to be empty itself to portray emptiness. In this one, there are a couple of compositional and perception issues that distract from the original intention:
1. Usually, eyes are drawn to the highlights first, in this case the beginning of the road and the low clouds… and from there, eyes do not seem to have anywhere else to go but leave the picture
2. In the western world at least, where we read from left to right, a road coming from top left to lower right indicates a direction of coming toward the viewer, and in this case it then leads the eyes out of the picture too soon
3. Panoramas are notoriously challenging to compose well… cropped panoramas even more so.
However, all this does not mean the picture is bad... it is a decent pastoral scene, and again, especially for those with an emotional attachment to its elements. For the rest of us (and of course me especially) it is one of those "close, but no cigar" ones. ;)
P.S. I've been in Cornwall, so it is not that the landscape is totally unfamiliar to me. I spent most of the time on the shores though, with just a taxi ride from the train station to the hotel taking me through such pastoral scenes… obviously not long enough to create that "grandma-apple pie-desolate summer heat" type of lasting memory :)
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… It's interesting to think about the difference in approach between Ansel and HCB...
Allow me to contribute to this debate by quoting another great photographer:
I am not at all interested in showing how clever I am once I take the picture. My cleverness, if it exists at all, is in seeing something that's there and showing it to you. - Jay Maisel
Not that I am taking sides. I am between a rock and a hard place here: my photography style and approach to post-processing is closer to AA's philosophy, while deep-down longing to be more like Jay Maisel ;)
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"You obviously have that emotional attachment to the place (i.e., places like that), so it nicely illustrates the point I was making."
yes, and i don't miss the itching from all the wheat chaff and cuts from the straw either :) :) :)
time and distance have allowed me to overlook the misery of harvesting and remember the apple pie ;)
Despite the road heading L-R the dark close of the woods drew me down into the shelter from the heat. It was a tension - avoidance of the heat versus getting the wheat cut. i think the tension in the image is what worked for me.
Frank
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I can't knock the Ansel approach. I certainly learned a lot about exposure and printmaking from his books. But the idea that the print is the performance just isn't my cup of tea. What I shoot for in post-processing is a correct rendition of what I saw when I tripped the shutter. Interestingly, it sounds as if that's what you were after with the Lane to Downgate. Since it's a landscape, I guess that instead of going through the steps you went through I'd simply have gone back the next day and made the shot again. Better yet, if I were shooting digital I'd have checked the LCD, which ought to have shown the lens flares, and made a few more shots, probably bracketed.
Russ
I think that your and Slobodan's contributions to this thread are well thought through and very important. But just to make my position clear, I am not after a "correct rendition of what I saw when I tripped the shutter", at all. I am trying to achieve a correct rendition of what I felt when I tripped the shutter. Which might be the difference between us, perhaps. So, in order to achieve that, I will frankly do anything in the darkroom (Lightroom) which gets me where I want to go. That was why I was delighted with Frank's response - one phrase was pure gold, although he probably didn't realise it's significance when he wrote it. "The sun and clouds were just that way". That is the pivot around which the image is centred, and it is why I couldn't go back and shoot it again next day. The sun and clouds and light will never be exactly the same, ever again. Which is one point where I am in total agreement with HCB, and his insistence on the decisive moment.
So, its technical imperfections acknowledged and regretted, and also realising that for very many people this picture will have little appeal, and even though for me personally it's a "maybe, maybe not" I'm nonetheless going to stand by it. That means it gets printed to 10x8 and put in my albums. Then I shall see if it stands the test of time ;)
John
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Have you tried to reflect the photograph, so the path goes from left to right?
Cannot say why, but I tend to prefer photographs where the "movement" goes in that direction... is it just me?
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Have you tried to reflect the photograph, so the path goes from left to right?
Cannot say why, but I tend to prefer photographs where the "movement" goes in that direction... is it just me?
Well, Ed, that's an interesting idea, and indeed it could work better, I suppose.
But now I'm going to contradict myself regarding darkroom manipulation, and have to confess that this is absolutely one of the few things I would not do with a picture. So I must have principles after all (gosh). This is I think because I know all these places so well, that it would just look wrong to me. And of course, most of my audience (outside of this forum) lives here in Cornwall, and they know these places too. So I am not going to get away with a mirror-image shot of anything on my patch.
However, I am no stick-in-the-mud, and in the spirit of artistic freedom we'll have a bash anyhow. Here it is flipped, so you can judge for yourselves -
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Well, Ed, that's an interesting idea, and indeed it could work better, I suppose.
But now I'm going to contradict myself regarding darkroom manipulation, and have to confess that this is absolutely one of the few things I would not do with a picture. So I must have principles after all (gosh). This is I think because I know all these places so well, that it would just look wrong to me. And of course, most of my audience (outside of this forum) lives here in Cornwall, and they know these places too. So I am not going to get away with a mirror-image shot of anything on my patch.
However, I am no stick-in-the-mud, and in the spirit of artistic freedom we'll have a bash anyhow. Here it is flipped, so you can judge for yourselves -
John,
Personally, much as I liked the "correct" version, I do find the flipped image even more appealing. I do sometimes flip my own photos to get the left-to-right movement direction.
But if I ever get to Cornwall, I'll want to go back to the original shot.
Eric
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John,
Personally, much as I liked the "correct" version, I do find the flipped image even more appealing. I do sometimes flip my own photos to get the left-to-right movement direction.
But if I ever get to Cornwall, I'll want to go back to the original shot.
Eric
God, you're a subversive lot, you really are. Now I'm starting to like the mirrored version better too . . .
However, it probably depends whether or not you know the location. After all, supposing Ansel had flipped "Clearing Winter Storm" left to right. I wouldn't have known any different, never having been there, even though that waterfall would be on the wrong side. But anyone who knew Yosemite would have been outraged.
I think I'm going to have to issue my stuff in two editions, a straight one for Cornwall, with flipped versions for North America and the Antipodes ;)
John
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John, Have you flipped???
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… I am not after a "correct rendition of what I saw when I tripped the shutter", at all. I am trying to achieve a correct rendition of what I felt when I tripped the shutter...
Amen, brother!!!
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... I am not after a "correct rendition of what I saw when I tripped the shutter", at all. I am trying to achieve a correct rendition of what I felt when I tripped the shutter. Which might be the difference between us, perhaps... The sun and clouds and light will never be exactly the same, ever again. Which is one point where I am in total agreement with HCB, and his insistence on the decisive moment.
John, I think I've been remiss in not answering this post sooner. I can't disagree with you about trying to achieve a correct rendition of a feeling, but you have to understand what HCB meant by "the decisive moment." He didn't mean what most people assume he meant.
"Photography is not like painting," Cartier-Bresson told the Washington Post in 1957. "There is a creative fraction of a second when you are taking a picture. Your eye must see a composition or an expression that life itself offers you, and you must know with intuition when to click the camera. That is the moment the photographer is creative."
Henri's definition paints a subtly different picture from what people usually assume and supports what I said earlier about the difference between Ansel's approach and Henri's approach. The decisive moment involves seeing that "expression that life offers you" and having a well enough developed photographic instinct to recognize in an instant what you're seeing. In other words, it's not just a moment when everything in the scene is in balance; it's the moment at which YOU are in balance with the expression life's offering you. You make the photograph at that moment, not later in the darkroom.
Of course, feeling is a significant part of finding yourself in balance with the scene. But one would suppose that what you saw at the decisive moment is what put you in balance with it, and, in the long run, what will give you the feeling you were after when you tripped the shutter. So, it seems to me there's little if any difference between saying you want a correct rendition of what you saw when you tripped the shutter and saying you want a correct rendition of what you felt when you tripped the shutter. If it's a "decisive moment" the two statements say virtually the same thing.
I understand that you love this particular picture, and I have similar landscapes that evoke for me the delights I experienced in Northern Michigan as I was growing up. But I think Slobodan had it right in his first post: the picture's mostly devoid of meaning for someone who didn't grow up in those surroundings. No amount of reversing or Photoshopping is going to change that. Which is not to say it isn't a pleasing scene.
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> We still have some problems, but funnily enough this picture somehow sums up the mood of the afternoon for me. See what you think – was it worth a rescue Job?
If you like it then the answer is yes.
I had a conversation with someone recently along the lines of some of the comments here – re how a foto is “read.” The person insisted that fotos have to be read right to left as that is how we are conditioned. Yet if an image is well composed, and yours is, then it doesn’t really matter. The summary of the conversation I had is that some people are rigid in how they view things and as such if a subject doesn’t conform to the viewer’s expectations then they may object.
So I guess if you are doing the image for yourself, you’ve done as you wish, but if you are trying to appeal to the LCD then flipping the image is a way to go.
Either way, it’s a nice snap.
On Russ’s point, I've heard elsewhere that the key to a successfully marketable foto is that it has to connect with the viewer. You said most of your viewers are local so the image will no doubt resonate with local viewers much more than in the sterile confines of the web.
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... some of the comments here – re how a foto is “read.” The person insisted that fotos have to be read right to left as that is how we are conditioned... some people are rigid in how they view things and as such if a subject doesn’t conform to the viewer’s expectations then they may object...
Well, I won't take it personally, but it is not about "some people" being rigid.. it is about human vision and perception, common to 99% of the humanity (o.k., in this particular case to those in the Western world). And it is not about "insisting" and "objecting", but about hinting why certain things might not work for (all) viewers exactly the same as the photographer intended.
"Insisting" and "objecting" based on "rules" would indeed be rigid, and here is why:
There are numerous single rules in the art of composition (the rule of thirds, rules of balance, s-curves, leading lines, etc.). However, hardly ever is a picture based on a single compositional element, there are usually two or more existing simultaneously, sometimes in harmony, sometimes not. The sheer number of possible combinations of single rules, let alone viewers reactions to them, becomes then mind boggling. And that explains why it is sometimes possible to break a rule or two and still have the rest work well as a whole.
Add to this alphabet soup of rules the photographer's and viewers emotions, mix it well, season to taste, and you will see why art in general is so subjective and unpredictable.. and yet remains quite seductive and fascinating.
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… it's not just a moment when everything in the scene is in balance; it's the moment at which YOU are in balance with the expression life's offering you. You make the photograph at that moment, not later in the darkroom.
… there's little if any difference between saying you want a correct rendition of what you saw when you tripped the shutter and saying you want a correct rendition of what you felt when you tripped the shutter. If it's a "decisive moment" the two statements say virtually the same thing…
Becoming quite a philosopher, aren't you Russ ;) But that is ok, you are quite good at it.
I hear what you are saying and tend to agree, up to a point. But I like to shed light from different angles, so here it goes:
Once an image becomes a two-dimensional representation of reality, confined to a set of restraints idiosyncratic to the chosen medium (e.g., crop/frame ratio, paper contrast, etc.), it becomes a world of its own. And that world then needs rules of its own, hence the need to continue our work in the darkroom (or Lightroom, for that matter).
A digression here: this reminds me of an old joke, where a drunk explains how it is possible that he claims he had only one drink: "Well, when I get a shot, I feel like a completely different man… and that other man then needs a drink too".
Sorry for the interruption, folks… we are now back to our regular programming:
That "other man" (e.g., a print) needs its "shot" or fix too. Exactly how much, if any, depends, of course, on the type of shot (photographic shot, not alcoholic, this time ;)). No amount of dodging and burning is needed for Robert Capa's shot of the falling soldier… nor it would matter if the orientation is horizontal or vertical… flipped or not… 8x10 or 24x36. I think we all would agree on that.
But not all photography is about human drama, there are other genres, the landscape for instance (although there are some, and we won't mention here our friend Rob ;), who would deny any artistic value to anything else but human presence, with a nice set of boobs, if possible). And landscape is notoriously difficult to translate into 2D: it gets stripped of the huge vistas we see when we are there, fragrance of the spring, scorching hot sensation on our skin of a mid-summer noon, light breeze bringing first rain drops to our face…
This 3D world, engaging all our senses, evoking our memories, now needs to be shoved into a Procrustean bed of, say, a black and white print, horizontally oriented, 8x10, paper contrast #2. And that medium now has a world of its own, with rules of its own, with the task to recreate that abundance of sensations and emotions we felt when we pressed the shutter, using whatever artificial means there are to "deceive" and create illusion that the viewer was there too: say, slight vignetting to concentrate viewer's attention; dodging and burning for the same reason; rules of composition necessary to bring balance and harmony into this new world; cropping (yes, Russ), if for no other reason (and there are many), then to fit the chosen paper ratio.
So, Russ, my friend, it is not HCB's vs. AA's shooting philosophy, but choosing correctly the one that matches your preferred subject. If you shoot like HCB, then do not crop and do not post-process much, if at all. There is very little point, however, in shooting landscapes the way HCB shoots people, or vice versa.
Now... I need a drink ;)
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Well
We have expanded this post into all sorts of very interesting areas. And I find a great deal of value in everything that has been said, even when these views are somewhat conflicting. Actually, Russ, I agree with HCB completely in your quote, as far as it goes -
"Photography is not like painting," Cartier-Bresson told the Washington Post in 1957. "There is a creative fraction of a second when you are taking a picture. Your eye must see a composition or an expression that life itself offers you, and you must know with intuition when to click the camera. That is the moment the photographer is creative."
However, if HCB meant to preclude any further creativity later on, at the printing stage, that is where he and I would part company. So the post from Slobodan I think sets out very clearly a view that I would also share.
HCB's view of photography is almost a zen-like one where the photographer enters a state where conscious feelings and thoughts are, perhaps not suppressed exactly, but put to one side, and the subconscious takes over. Entering the "zone", in the way that a musician does when making an inspired performance. The same sort of philosophy which is the core of the book "The Inner Game of Tennis". I think it is possible to get into a "flow" of this sort where the subconscious takes control, even in landscape photography (although perhaps not so readily from a tripod!). But this is not necessarily the only valid sort of photography, and perhaps too much has been made of it. There are many arts and aspects of art which spring from a more contemplative, considered approach, and they are none the worse for that. You cannot compose a symphony in a zen-like instant, nor make a wood engraving in a few seconds. Or write a novel, for that matter. If you subscribe entirely to HCB's view of photography and what it should be, we would have to attach no value at all to Weston's pepper photographs, for example.
A question for those who know - did HCB print his own work? Or did he rely, like many other pro photographers, on a collaboration with a colleague who did his printing?
John
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HCB's view of photography is almost a zen-like one where the photographer enters a state where conscious feelings and thoughts are, perhaps not suppressed exactly, but put to one side, and the subconscious takes over. Entering the "zone", in the way that a musician does when making an inspired performance. The same sort of philosophy which is the core of the book "The Inner Game of Tennis". I think it is possible to get into a "flow" of this sort where the subconscious takes control, even in landscape photography (although perhaps not so readily from a tripod!).
John, According to HCB, his favorite book was Zen and the Art of Archery.
But this is not necessarily the only valid sort of photography, and perhaps too much has been made of it. There are many arts and aspects of art which spring from a more contemplative, considered approach, and they are none the worse for that.
Making a good photograph is not a thought process. If you're thinking at the moment you trip that shutter you're not likely to get a first-class result.
You cannot compose a symphony in a zen-like instant, nor make a wood engraving in a few seconds. Or write a novel, for that matter. If you subscribe entirely to HCB's view of photography and what it should be, we would have to attach no value at all to Weston's pepper photographs, for example.
You're right. Landscape photography is a contemplative process, which is one reason why landscape painting is so much more effective than landscape photography. And, right again: I attach little value to photographs of vegetables. But as far as the other arts you mention: a good wood engraving takes time to finish, but the initial drawing is made very quickly. Ever watch a Japanese painter do a watercolor? A good novel, or better yet, a good poem is made in a series of flashes though the editing is contemplative. Notice that I've added "good" to each of those objects. A potboiler is made with a cookbook.
A question for those who know - did HCB print his own work? Or did he rely, like many other pro photographers, on a collaboration with a colleague who did his printing?
Virtually all of HCB's printing was done by a guy named Voja Mitrovic, an exceptionally good printer.
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Becoming quite a philosopher, aren't you Russ ;) But that is ok, you are quite good at it.
Coming from Mr. philosophy himself that's quite a compliment, Slobodan.
Once an image becomes a two-dimensional representation of reality, confined to a set of restraints idiosyncratic to the chosen medium (e.g., crop/frame ratio, paper contrast, etc.), it becomes a world of its own. And that world then needs rules of its own, hence the need to continue our work in the darkroom (or Lightroom, for that matter).
That "other man" (e.g., a print) needs its "shot" or fix too. Exactly how much, if any, depends, of course, on the type of shot (photographic shot, not alcoholic, this time ;)). No amount of dodging and burning is needed for Robert Capa's shot of the falling soldier… nor it would matter if the orientation is horizontal or vertical… flipped or not… 8x10 or 24x36. I think we all would agree on that.
Since I shoot raw, everything that comes out of my cameras needs a bit of sharpening, and since I don't have a drum scanner in my studio, any scan I make needs sharpening too, so yes, some post-processing always is needed. But once a photograph is turned into a print (the other man) it becomes an objet d'art and enters the world of commerce where its scarcity and provenance is a lot more important than its quality as an image.
Yes, Capa's dying soldier is a classic example of the kind of war photography I called "cliche" in my B&W spotlight bio. It's sort of like what you see on the grocery store checkout counter magazines, all of which depend on shock for their effectiveness. But let's take something like Gene Smith's picture of a discouraged Dr. Ceriani leaning on a counter and smoking after having lost a patient. That isn't a war picture, though it is about human drama. And it's anything but cliche. Is this picture more effective as a carefully made print than it is on a page in Life magazine? And I'm not talking about the fact that in the magazine the picture is part of a story. You don't need to know the story to feel the power of that picture, which is why I keep seeing paintings that are copied from that photograph, without attribution to Gene Smith, a situation that makes me wish the copyright holders would go after the painters.
But not all photography is about human drama, there are other genres, the landscape for instance (although there are some, and we won't mention here our friend Rob ;), who would deny any artistic value to anything else but human presence, with a nice set of boobs, if possible). And landscape is notoriously difficult to translate into 2D: it gets stripped of the huge vistas we see when we are there, fragrance of the spring, scorching hot sensation on our skin of a mid-summer noon, light breeze bringing first rain drops to our face…
This 3D world, engaging all our senses, evoking our memories, now needs to be shoved into a Procrustean bed of, say, a black and white print, horizontally oriented, 8x10, paper contrast #2. And that medium now has a world of its own, with rules of its own, with the task to recreate that abundance of sensations and emotions we felt when we pressed the shutter, using whatever artificial means there are to "deceive" and create illusion that the viewer was there too: say, slight vignetting to concentrate viewer's attention; dodging and burning for the same reason; rules of composition necessary to bring balance and harmony into this new world; cropping (yes, Russ), if for no other reason (and there are many), then to fit the chosen paper ratio.
So, Russ, my friend, it is not HCB's vs. AA's shooting philosophy, but choosing correctly the one that matches your preferred subject. If you shoot like HCB, then do not crop and do not post-process much, if at all. There is very little point, however, in shooting landscapes the way HCB shoots people, or vice versa.
Yes, I understand the difficulties involved in trying to turn a photograph into a painting. I've made the attempt many times. But I think there's a bit of difference between landscape and Rob's quite good boobography. Boobography is done in a studio where you have complete control over the lighting, so, I'll have to say I suspect since I've never done boobography, I suspect that what comes out of the camera is very close to the final product. Certainly there are printing hurdles to come, but that's not quite the same thing.
As far as my views on landscapes are concerned, I think you could have finished that last sentence with the word "landscapes."
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Landscape photography is a contemplative process, which is one reason why landscape painting is so much more effective than landscape photography.
Nature frequently gives the landscape photographer little or no time to contemplate anything before he has to release the shutter. Ansel Adams had only enough time to set up his view camera and take one picture before the foreground light disappeared for his famous "Moonrise, Hernandez, NM" landscape. He was driving by one evening, saw the shot and knew he had to act fast. It was very spur of the moment and he had no time to reflect on the scene before he shot it.
As for the second part of your sentence, I think we can all take that with a huge grain of salt, being that it comes from someone who doesn't particularly care for landscape photography in the first place.
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Nature frequently gives the landscape photographer little or no time to contemplate anything before he has to release the shutter. Ansel Adams had only enough time to set up his view camera and take one picture before the foreground light disappeared for his famous "Moonrise, Hernandez, NM" landscape. He was driving by one evening, saw the shot and knew he had to act fast. It was very spur of the moment and he had no time to reflect on the scene before he shot it.
It was worse than that, Pop. He got himself and his camera up onto the platform on top of his truck and then realized he'd left his light meter below and didn't have time to go back down to get it. So he guessed at the exposure. Which proves that Ansel was a very good guesser.
As for the second part of your sentence, I think we can all take that with a huge grain of salt, being that it comes from someone who doesn't particularly care for landscape photography in the first place.
Actually, I had a poster of Moonlight Over Hernandez hanging over my computer desk for many years. It's my #2 favorite Ansel. My favorite is Woman Behind Screen Door. Most people aren't aware that Ansel did anything other than landscapes, which is warning not to let yourself become typecast. But I don't consider Moonlight to be what I'd call "landscape." It's not about rocks and trees. It's about that little New Mexican village and the people in it having their last tequila before bed. It's probably the most touching human interest picture Ansel ever did. And you're right. It certainly wasn't contemplative. Ansel wasn't thinking. He was connecting with what life was offering him. It was the decisive moment.
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It was worse than that, Pop. He got himself and his camera up onto the platform on top of his truck and then realized he'd left his light meter below and didn't have time to go back down to get it. So he guessed at the exposure. Which proves that Ansel was a very good guesser.
Actually, I had a poster of Moonlight Over Hernandez hanging over my computer desk for many years. It's my #2 favorite Ansel. My favorite is Woman Behind Screen Door. Most people aren't aware that Ansel did anything other than landscapes, which is warning not to let yourself become typecast. But I don't consider Moonlight to be what I'd call "landscape." It's not about rocks and trees. It's about that little New Mexican village and the people in it having their last tequila before bed. It's probably the most touching human interest picture Ansel ever did. And you're right. It certainly wasn't contemplative. Ansel wasn't thinking. He was connecting with what life was offering him. It was the decisive moment.
Russ, I think you may be a closet landscape photography lover. There's no shame in that. ;)
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It was worse than that, Pop. He got himself and his camera up onto the platform on top of his truck and then realized he'd left his light meter below and didn't have time to go back down to get it. So he guessed at the exposure. Which proves that Ansel was a very good guesser.
Russ,
That prompts me to tell again the anecdote I heard from Minor White about a time he, Ansel, and Edward Weston were photographing together. At Ansel's insistence, Edward was carrying and using a light meter (Weston Master V, no relation). But the way he "used" it was rather unique. He'd wave it around, then look at it, and then mutter to himself "It's wrong!" and proceed to set the exposure he would have without the meter.
A good eye is a useful accessory in any type of photography.
Eric
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Eric, That's right, and practice makes perfect. For a long time I did my street shooting almost exclusively with a Leica M4 and Summicron f/2 lens, either Tri X or Ilford HP 4. After a while I got so I could guess my exposure, even inside under incandescent lighting, within about a stop. Can't do it any more, but nowadays, who needs to?
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sorry to interrupt. i have been away for a while. The flipped version has no "tension" for me. Maybe violating the "rules" of composition helped the image. i think it made me focus on the clouds and light first rather than the path.
regards,
Frank