Past Prime

I have been taking pictures of flowers that are past prime.  It’s easy to say that this is a reflection on my own life, but that is too easy.

I am struck by how interesting they become.  Some retain their color and form.  Some change form and some change color.  Most become more interesting. 

Certainly scale has something to do with it.  Seeing them on such a large scale makes it easier to see the details and colors.  Size does matter.

I recently returned from a trip to Death Valley.  I took lots of landscape photographs (see above) in hopes of having something new with which to work.  I told myself that I was getting tired of the flowers.  However, when I got home I went right back to photographing flowers.  I worked on the landscapes but I found many of them boring.  The flowers kept drawing me back.  There was on infinite variety and the price is right.  I even brought back flowers from my trip.

I guess this is my way of saying that the flowers are here forever.  Landscapes and nudes are fine, but the flowers never get too old to photograph.

Visual Literacy

Over the past several years I have taught a course that has varied in title from "Color to Black and White" to "Visual Literacy and the Digital Workflow."  The change in title effectively came about half way through the first time I taught the class when I realized that the students were more interested in "what and why" I did something to an image rather than "how."

I came to the epiphany that most of them sort of recognized a good image when they saw it but were incapable of looking at a "raw" image and deciding what it needed.  I concluded that this was the result of a several of factors.

• they had never looked at good work critically and tried to understand why it was good
• they had never considered what they wanted the people who view their work to take away from the experience
• they lacked the technical understanding of the visual effects that could be used to render an image better

The software is a tool.  It is not a substitute for a lack of vision.  Teaching "how" is a lot easier than teaching "why."  To some degree I'm not sure it can be taught as much as it can be encouraged.

Every time I teach the class I emphasize the importance of really looking at a lot of work.  It's important to look at the good, the bad, and the ugly.  What is good to me might not be good to them but they should understand why they like an image and what has been done to that image to make it a strong image for them.

I like ambiguity.  For me, images can be too easy.  There is nothing left to discover or reinvent.  The first time I look at an image I will know everything there is to know about that image.  For me, this may make a beautiful image but it many hold no long-term commitment to the image.  There is nothing left to discover after the first few time I look at it.  This may just be me, but it's the way I am.

That doesn't mean that someone else might feel differently about the image.

The Accidental Masterpiece

“There are no accidental masterpieces in painting, but there are accidental masterpieces in photography” – Chuck Close

Emergence

I am currently scanning a number of negative taken years ago, maybe thirty or forty years ago to be exact.  Some of the images I have printed in both the darkroom and digitally.

I am starting to realize that my interpretation of what these images should look like is changing. In some cases the change is drastic.

This is a result of both the technology and my own interpretation of the negative.  The more I think about it, it may be just now that the negative is revealing its content in a way that I was unable to visualize earlier.  This is starting to sound deeply philosophical........

For year, dealers in fine photography have tried to convince the public that prints made closer to the time that a photographer made the negative are more valuable because they more closely represent the photograph in the photographer's mind at the time he or she took the photograph.  What a bunch of bull.  Every time I make a print I try to make it better than I have ever printed it before.

Most of the photographers I know shoot when they feel like shooting.  The exploration of the negative comes later.  Maybe some photographers stop exploring their negatives after they make what they think is the ultimate print.  I think there are still things to be discovered.  A negative doesn't always reveal all its content immediately.  (Lordy this is getting heavy!)

I think that photographers who stop exploring the content of the negative/file are cutting the images off from the photographer's growth as an artist.

Just a thought.

Don’t Know Why

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This image was taken in Vienna, Austria through a bus window at night.  I am a little bewildered as to why this image appeals to me so much.  It just does.

There is a certain isolation.  Are they together?  Are they lost in their own worlds?  Does it matter?  It creates questions in my mind.  This image will stay fresh in my mind forever.

I find that for me, the best images leave something for me to question.  They don't answer all the questions.

Industrial Scenes

I think Charles Sheeler, the great artist, and I would have understood each other or at least gotten along. His art incorporated many industrial scenes.  He may have understood why. I’m not sure why I am drawn to industrial scenes and images that very few want to hang on their walls, but I am.

The above image is an example of what I am talking about.  No one is going to be drawn to this image but I am.  I don’t know why, I just am.

The Narrative

 

Over the years I have become aware that to many people the narrative surrounding an image may be as important as the image itself.  The image is considered a mere touchstone to the life experience of the artist creating the image.

I have a different criterion since I consider an image from the perspective of how it will look on my walls.  The experience of the artist may be interesting but it is not critical to my enjoyment.  I don’t care that Ansel hopped up on top of his car, didn’t have a light meter but he knew how may foot-candles the moon had, and exposed Moonrise.  Good for him but I liked the image before I knew that about how he shot it.  It’s not irrelevant but it’s not important to my enjoyment of Moonrise.

I recently attended a program on the history of the National Gallery of Art.  What struck me the most was that the benefactors, who gave a lot of art to the nation, had previously used that art to decorate their houses.  They had not selected the art to create a gallery; they were decorating their living spaces.  In fact, the restorers had to clean the smoke residue off one Van Gogh because it had been hung over the mantle of a fireplace.

When I consider my life story, the narrative does not seem exceptional.  I have lived an extremely ordinary life.  The images are not the result of a mission or exceptional circumstances.  Most of the images have either come to me or I’ve put myself in a place of extraordinary beauty where they have been easy to find.  The recent flower images are possibly an exception, but they are beautiful, easy to do, don’t take a lot of time, and provide me something I can work on in the studio.  Hard to build a narrative that anyone would care about out of that.

All that said, I really enjoy photography and hope to continue doing it for a long time, even if mine doesn’t have a great narrative surrounding it.  One of the great things about being a photographer is that you can capture the beauty you see, to enjoy again and to share with others.

Too Easy

This morning I was thinking about what makes a photograph interesting to me.  My conclusion was that I liked photographs that can be reinterpreted every time I look at them.  They always seem to offer something new to be discovered.

The above image has, at least for me, those characteristics.  Every time I look at this image I create a different narrative of the circumstances surrounding it.

I also like the "beautiful image" that will be interpreted the same whenever I look at it.  However, they will never create that mystery of discovery that certain images convey.

Luck and Exploration

There is a famous quote by Chuck Close to the effect that photography is the only media in which you can create an accidental masterpiece.  Not that the above image is a masterpiece, but it happened because of a happy accident.

I was adjusting the level in Photoshop and accidentally moved the adjustment too far.  All of a sudden, the veins were enhanced and the luminosity was improved.  I had had no idea the image contained so much unrevealed detail.

This brings me to a related topic: exploration of the image.  While it is possible in traditional photography to explore an image, digital photography provides both the opportunity and the tools to more fully explore the possibilities of an image.  Most of us have some concept of what the final image will look like at the time we take the picture.   However, if we live with an image awhile and have the craft skills to know and execute what is possible, often a different, and even more interesting, image is revealed.

Past Prime

As I indicated in my previous entry, I have recently come to realize that flowers that are not freshly cut and in full bloom are entering a more visually interesting phase.

I had the studio set up to take some pictures of dolls for one of the fellow artists at the Torpedo Factory.   Walking out to the car I spotted a tiger lily that was. how shall I put this, entering a different phase of its existence.  It was quite interesting and I cut it off and took it into the studio to photograph.

To make a long story short, I have made about 300 photographs of flowers in various states of transition.  Nothing exceeds like excess!  No flower in the neighborhood is safe.  Folks are leaving flowers for me in my mailbox at the Factory and in sacks attached to the door of my studio.

I think the word is out that if you have dead flowers, give them to Jim.

A little note on the technical side.  These are taken with my Nikon D800e and the Nikor 105mm macro lens.  I used Helicon Focus software to focus stack the images to that I could get the depth-of-field required to execute the images the way I wanted.  You can see more here.

Beauty

I have recently started shooting flowers in the process of "passing into another state."  What I have come to realize is that they are possibly more beautiful than they were when they were "fresh."

This started be thinking about the concept of beauty in art.  Beauty is seductive both to the artist and the critic.  Beauty is difficult. I suspect that critics find it difficult because they are afraid of what other critics will say about them if they give a great review to work that it is beautiful.  Artist find it difficult to deal with in a serious way.   We are afraid that someone will trivialize our work by saying it is "pretty."  That's almost as bad as saying it's boring!  Trust me, boring is worse........

In showing the flower pictures, I am struck by how many folks comment that they didn't realize that dieing flowers could be so beautiful.  Maybe this is a result of seeing them large where small details are made visible. Who knows?

Many photographers today seem to be afraid of beauty.  We see portraits of people staring blankly at the camera,  deserted building, and the truly banal passed off as "great art."

Maybe I'm just out of touch........

Miles Davis and the Art of Photography

I recently read a statement attributed to Miles Davis (possibly the greatest jazz trumpet player of all times - but that's for another time), that he played not what was there, but what was not there.

As I have thought about my own visual development, I have come to the conclusion that I prefer images that leave something to the individual viewer's imagination.  Some images are too easy.  After the first time you look at them there is nothing left to discover.  What is not shown may be more important than what is shown.  It leaves room for individual interpretation and discovery.

I understand that making such an image is easier said than done.  We are often attracted to a subject because of the interest that it holds for us.  We see it.  We feel it. We sort of have a relationship with it.  It is not easy to see what is not there because we are so aware of what is there.

However, one of the necessary skills for photographers is editing.  We may take thousands of images of what and where we point out cameras, but then we should edit heavily.  There may seem to be very little difference between one image and another, yet one has life and speaks to us while the other doesn't.  This is where visual literacy comes into play.  It's having that sense of what makes one image work and another not work.

Visual literacy is difficult to teach and probably takes years to acquire.  We are very good at teaching people how to change an image but not very good at teaching them why and what should be changed to make an image come alive.  Visual literacy is acquired by looking at a lot of work and deciding for oneself why an image is great or merely near great.  Where that line is drawn is a personal decision.  Where I draw the line is not necessarily where someone else would draw it.  It's the result of how we view the world, our exposure to visual images, and our own personal life experiences.  It can be acquired but it takes some work and the self awareness to realize that it needs development and nourishment.

Intimacy in Photography

The above image was taken years ago in Lermoos, Austria.  It's an image that works well in a small size, maybe 8"x8" at the largest, but totally falls apart larger.  I have long had the theory that images seek their own size.  Some work well at a variety of sizes but most have an ideal size at which they work best.

I recently came across a wonderful article by photographer David Kachel called "Ban the Bedsheets-Size Matters" where he discusses the relationship between the viewer and the print and how size matters.  There is an intimacy that exists when a fine print is viewed up close and personal.

I make work prints before I do a final print.  Frequently these work prints are 6x6 or 6x9.  While I may be satisfied when I make them larger, I am frequently struck with how magic they are in the smaller sizes.

Just some food for thought.

The Virtues of Ambiguity

Some images are too easy.  Once you have seen them you have discovered all there is to see.  This may be OK in that the image brings you joy every time you look at it.  However, I have discovered that I like images that I don't quite understand.  Every time I look at them they present an opportunity for reinterpretation.  They are not always pretty.

What has amazed me is that some of the simplest images sometime retain this quality for me.  Good examples would be Edward Weston's "Shell #1" and "Pepper #30."  No two images could be simpler, yet for me, they are images that hold infinite fascination.

In the end, it's a personal journey.

Japanese Paper

 Japanese Paper

One of the great joys of digital printing is the choices of papers that we currently have.

I frequently get asked about the papers I use for printing. I tell folks what they want to know but also tell them that if they are satisfied with what they are currently using they should not change.  The great paper chase may never end.

That said, I recently came across a paper called Niyodo, made in Japan, which is wonderful for the right images.  I get it from Hiromi in California.  The paper was recommended to me by my good friend and fabulous photographer, Ellen Martin.

The image above was printed on the Niyodo paper. I chose to show a picture of it hanging on the wall because there is no good way to show the delicacy of this paper in a straight copy.  I tore the  edges and mounted it to the substrate with rice paste.

Visual Literacy and Photographic Education

Ansel Adams had it partially right when he describe the process of "pre-visualization."  Ansel posited that we should pre-visualize the image because that would lead to technical decisions regarding exposure of the film and development of the negative.  It was sort of a backward process whereby we are supposed to understand where we were going so that we can implement a workflow that will get us there.

I've come to realize that we may be teaching photography backwards.  We do a great job of teaching our students "how" to do something technically but we do a terrible job of teaching them "why."  By this, I mean that great imagery is not the result of editing, it is the result of being able to look at a "raw" image" and see its potential and what needs to be done to it to realize that potential. And then having the technical skills and tools to implement those decisions.

The above set of images show the original and the final.  Knowing how to dodge, burn, clone, adjust contrast, etc. will not get to the final image unless you have a concept of what the image needs in order to make the visual statement you wish to make.  (I'm setting aside luck!)

Others are free to make different decisions about the image but the things that I saw were the potential of the sky, the texture of the tree, the highlight on the rocks, and the separation in the distant mountains.

I spent a lot of time working on the separation of the clouds in the sky.  It was extremely important that the tree be sharp and have really good contrast.  Since sharpening can sometimes create halos around an object, I spent hours cloning out the halos around the limbs of the tree.  The highlights on the rocks was enhanced to lead the viewer into the image and up to the tree.  And the near foreground and the right and left edges were burned (darkened) slightly to keep the eye in the frame.  The distant mountains were contrast and brightness adjusted until they gave a sense of distance but were but not competing with the foreground.

This is a long way of saying that all the Photoshop skills and great equipment will not create visually interesting images.  Visual literacy and understanding the potential of an image may.

The Truth

This is an article that every photographer and maybe every artist should read.   It's short, but pithy.

Surreality

Every now and then the creativity fairy visits you.  I thought someone might find interesting the evolution of one of my most surreal images

One day at the Torpedo Factory I had too much time on my hands.  I had an opportunity to shoot at the DC Court of Appeals building that was being renovated.  I was intrigued by a series of receding doorways.

Upon opening the file, I discovered how dull, boring, and uninteresting an image can be.

At this point it became a challenge.  And, I had time on my hands.

One of the foremost photographers dealing in surrealism in Jerry Uelsmann.  I said to myself, "what would Jerry do?"  I thought the first doorway would make a good frame.

I thought Jerry might also put a boulder behind it since the first doorway provided a great frame.  To wit:

This worked pretty well but if the boulder was going to be sepia, the glass above the door had to be approximately the same color to give the illusion that the boulder was behind the door.

I then asked myself what else Jerry might do?  Stupidly, I said he'd add an eye.

 

I say stupidly because isolating the eye was one of the hardest jobs I have ever done.  Trust me, if you see an eye in another of my pictures, it will probably be this one.

Never content to leave well enough alone, I noticed the cord dropping down out of the ceiling.  One of my favorite photographers is Christopher James.  Christopher had a "Red Line" series in which he introduced a red line in each of the images. So I painted the cord red as an homage to Christopher.

Several of my fellow artists at the Torpedo Factory Art Center (Susan Makara and Christine Parson) commented about Picasso's "blue" period and that the eye would look better green.

Thus I arrived at the final image seen below.  I'm not sure I deserve a lot of credit for the image.  It's been stable for several years but I consider it a work-in-progress.  As it is right now it is an homage to Jerry Uelsmann, Christopher James, Picasso, Susan Makara,.and Christine Parson.

Low Tech

 Waiting for the Rain to End, not Godot....

Here I go again.  I think I'm turning into an old curmudgeon!  Maybe I already have already and am just now recognizing it.

The above picture was taken with my iphone while waiting for the rain to stop.  It's more of a statement about how little I had to occupy my time than it says about my artistic vision!  I guess I could have named it "Homage to Samuel Becket" and let folks wonder what the hell I was talking about.

Years ago when the Diana, since replaced by the Holga camera came out, there developed a bit of a cult following.  These were cheap plastic cameras with terrible lenses, that scratched the film as it was transported through the camera, and leaked light so that flair showed up on the film.  The equipment is not the problem.  I've seen a lot of great work done with this kind of equipment.  As an example of how it should be done I would refer you to the work of my good friend Craig Sterling.  Check out his gallery "New Work."  Most of the images are done with a Holga or an iphone.

It seemed that the art world was willing to embrace the results without regard to whether or not the images were good.  Almost everyone working with a Diana/Holga was declared a "fine art" photographer and held in some sort of awe.  Most of the work was garbage and was a waste of film.

The emperor had no clothes but a lot of the folks who should have spoken up didn't.

I see a version of this happening today with many applications for smart phones.  If it's fuzzy, out-of-focus, off-color, with ragged edges it must be fine art. Maybe the problem is not with the application but rather what most people think of when they think of "fine art" photography.

Mike and Doug Starn proved years ago that a photographic image didn't have to be sharp and pristine to be great art.  Their work often looked like it was held together with chewing gum and bailing wire.  However, they had great vision that was expressed through appropriate craft.  Their works are amazing and need to be experienced "in-the-flesh" so to speak.  No publication does them justice.

Once again we have craft, a result of the application, substituting for vision.

Processography

Vine, Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge

Strange title but I have come to a bit of a semi-epiphany over the recent past.  I've always known that there were photographers who loved the process of photography.  I think many of us love the environment created in the darkroom and are reluctant to give it up no matter how good the digital tools are today.  I would never tell someone who loves the darkroom and/or film to give it up.  The chemical darkroom and the digital darkroom are different processes, media, and skills.

That said,  most folks who do the darkroom work describe the different look and feel that result from their process as being the reason they choose to go that route.  Film has grain, digital is smoother, etc. (Some use that as an excuse but that's a topic for another blog entry.)

In the recent past I came in contact with a very sophisticated photographer who goes through an extremely difficult, time-consuming, and heavy equipment oriented process to create an image that could be easily taken with modern equipment in a relatively short time by an amateur.  I realized that what he really loved was the process.  The image was really only an excuse to execute/figure out the process and was only marginally the object of the effort.

I wanted to ask what qualities the process brought to the final image to make him go through this extremely difficult process. I didn't get the chance to ask.

This discussion was part of a panel composed of ten photographers.  The other nine of us started the discussion of their images with what they were trying to achieve in the image.  The visual statement drove them to a particular process or equipment.  I'm not saying that this is right or wrong but it gave me something to think about.