Contemplating Color

This video was inspired by an assignment from the book "The Practice of Contemplative Photography: Seeing the World With Fresh Eyes" by Andy Carr and Michael Wood. It runs about two and a half minutes. I hope you enjoy it.

“Of-ness” vs. Meaning: A Rural Adventure

An artist is somebody who produces things that people don't need to have.

Andy Warhol

I often drive the byways of rural New York looking for photographic inspiration. Late one summer afternoon I came upon yet another old barn. There are thousands of barns in the rustic countryside of upstate New York. Some are quaint and well kept. Some are rugged and well-worn but still in use. It seems like many more are damaged and dilapidated; caved in or about ready to topple into a pile of broken beams and pastoral wreckage. But this one stopped me cold in my quest. I pulled the car to the narrow shoulder to get a better look. Though it was old and no longer a “working” barn it seemed different. The farm it was on had long ceased operations. I couldn’t see a farm house but there were a couple of mobile homes parked nearby. No tractors or farm equipment around, not even rusted hulks. No bucolic fields or benevolent bovines on the hoof; just overgrown weeds and a rusty, older, but still-used, car near one of the trailers. The place looked deserted but apparently people still lived here and were keeping up the barn. It still had a roof in good condition and power lines going to it.

The late afternoon light was sharp and clear and perfect. The barn sat up the hill from the road a little way. The clouds behind it and the wild weeds in front set the big building off like it had been plopped down on some bizarre Monopoly board. I got out of the car and set up my tripod, screwed my 35mm Canon to it and prepared to shoot. I had parked a little way up from the barn so the shadow of the vehicle wouldn’t be anywhere in my frame. I walked down the road a few hundred feet to get a better position in front of the barn with the trailers on the left. I was using a wide angle lens to get as much of the sky as I could while keeping all the buildings in view but I still needed to get closer. I walked a few feet off the shoulder into the weeds to get a better angle and shorten up the foreground. Wow! What a perfect day, a perfect scene!

I was blithely shooting away when I heard someone yell and saw a woman standing in the driveway near one of the mobile homes. She was stout and serious, wearing a housecoat of some kind, with long, wild gray hair drifting in the breeze.

“Hey!” she yelled. I turned in her direction.

“Hey you there!” she yelled again but with more screech. She had her hands on her hips and seemed really upset, with the ruddy complexion of someone about ready to blow a gasket. 

“What you takin’ pitchers of?”

Sometimes you run into people on shoots. Most are curious but amiable. They ask a few questions, there’s a little chit chat back and forth. They eventually go along their way, often bemused by the crazy photographer "takin' pitchers" of rusty mailboxes or derelict buildings. I usually keep shooting until I get what I’m after. This woman was different. She seemed really angry but I knew if I was polite and chatted with her for a few minutes all would be well.

“Why this beautiful barn and the spectacular rural scene of course. The light is just perfect.” I yelled back.

“Don’t you take no pitchers 'round here!”  She was shaking her finger at me now and stomped a few steps closer.

Perhaps I needed to explain more clearly. “But I’m trying to capture the zeitgeist of the decline of post-modern rural America…”

“What?!! Zeitgeist my ass!” She took a few more steps closer.

“I’m trying to craft a metaphorical representation of the effects of globalization on the waning culture of contemporary rural America as it’s represented in the state of this iconic structure and …”

“Are you from the tax assessor?!”

“No, of course not!“ I know everyone hates the tax assessor. I thought I should change the subject and get on to something less weighty. Perhaps I could tone down the conversation.

“On another level, the rectilinear form of the barn is the perfect counterpoint when juxtaposed with the amorphous sky and the tangle...”

She cut me off with a wave of her arm. "Don’t you talk like that to me! Rectilinear counterpoint!? Jeeze! Where do you people come from? You just get on your way!”

“But…”

“Don’t make me get my boys!” She turned and started hustling back up the driveway to the nearby trailer, pumping her arms and shouting unintelligible expletives back over her shoulder every few steps.

I wasn’t prepared to defend against reinforcements. It was time for a strategic retreat. There are lots of other barns and I wanted to live to shoot another day.

Photorealism vs. Pictorialism

Photography deals exquisitely with appearances, but nothing is what it appears to be.  ~Duane Michals

I think there is some irony in the fact that painters didn’t create a genre called “photo-realism” until over 100 years after photography was invented. Creating a painting that looks like a modern photograph is a thoroughly modern invention, evolving from Pop Art in the 1960’s. However, before photography many painters attempted, and often achieved, what might be called a “photographic” realism in still-life, landscape and even portrait paintings. Some have even been accused (the venerated Vermeer among them) of using a camera obscura to copy real life scenes to achieve such wondrous results. Before photography they couldn’t call this “photo-realism” but it seems that as realistic a rendering as possible was, by and large, often the intent.

The flip side of this is photographic Pictorialism, popular in the late 19^th and early 20^th century. Photography wasn’t considered serious art and photographers were looking for ways to be taken seriously as artists so they made images that looked like paintings.  A whole range of techniques, equipment and manipulation were used. They often made softly focused photos, sometimes painting on the emulsion to change the texture or using textured paper to get a painterly effect.  Before too long all this changed when photographers didn’t feel the need to be painterly to be considered artists. “Straight” photography came on strong and photography grew into its own artistic force.

We’re not as dogmatic as our artist ancestors once were. Today, in many respects painting and photography are closer than they have ever been. It’s routine for painters to take reference photos of subjects to capture detail in the interest of realism and for photographers to manipulate images with lighting, software or camera techniques to make them more painterly. Photos look like paintings and paintings look like photos. This doesn’t necessarily make it any easier for artists in either genre. Indeed, it’s a good bit harder to stand out in the crowd when just about anything goes.

The Joys of Being Wrong

“If you're not prepared to be wrong, you'll never come up with anything original.”
Sir Ken Robinson


You need to try lots of things and be prepared for failures, fiascoes, botches, disappointments, bombs, let downs and catastrophes. It's just a growth process, learning from your mistakes. When you're getting good at this people will often say you're wide of the mark, off topic, off kilter, off message, outside the mainstream, too far outside the box, and just plain wrong. The important thing is to ignore most of them most of the time. The hardest part is to know when to listen to them and when to listen to yourself.

It takes a while to learn to trust your own judgment. Some people never do. When you do, sometimes you will appear (no, you will be)  pig-headed, stubborn, obstinate, quixotic and unreasonable. More power to you. When you are a success in the face of criticism and everyone agrees you did it right, the adjectives will change to more favorable ones like resolute, stoic, firm, determined and maybe even visionary. With luck, this will come when you’re still alive and can enjoy it.

Looking at Photographs

“Books are for people who wish they were somewhere else.”

Mark Twain

I love looking at photographs and have been fascinated by all kinds of images since I can remember.  Holding a print in your hand or seeing one in a quiet gallery may be the best viewing experiences but it’s not always possible to do those things. Over the years I’ve collected a number of photography books to feed my hunger for images. While books may not be the ideal way to view a photo they are certainly optimal for leisurely perusing, reviewing, understanding, learning, examining in detail lots of images. In a book  you may not get the privilege of seeing the vintage Robert Frank print right in front of your eyes but you don’t have to travel 250 miles or more, burn gallons of expensive fossil fuels, pay bridge and tunnel tolls, (don’t forget parking fees!) then wait on long lines to pay your museum admission just to get elbowed by the hundreds of other gallery gawkers like yourself who are jostling for just the right viewing angle in front of Parade-Hoboken, New Jersey and Trolley-New Orleans.  If you go to the exhibition you should also buy the companion book. Going to the exhibit and buying the companion publication is the best of both worlds. Take the memories and  photos home and browse at your leisure. Sometimes you should even read the essays in the exhibition book, obtuse as they often are…but that’s another blog post.

I found a wonderful book from the Phaidon Press the other day. First published in 1997, it’s simply called “The Photo Book.” I can assure you there will never be a single gallery show that encompasses all the images in this remarkable publication. With 500 images from as many photographers, a little over 500 pages and weighing in at over five pounds this is a serious photographic tome. It spans the history of the medium from the earliest daguerreotypes through the mid 1990’s. There are many dramatic, iconic images like Eddie Adams’ Street Execution of a Vietcong Prisoner and Ansel Adams’ Moonrise-Hernandez, New Mexico. There are also many others, less well known but equally compelling. The range of images of all kinds from all eras and genres is astounding, from straight photojournalism to conceptual art, to fashion, portraits, landscapes and others. There is precious little written about each photo (which is just fine with me) but included is just enough good data about each photographer and the date of the photo.

What I found most interesting is the fact that the photos are arranged, not chronologically or by themes the editors have invented, but in alphabetical order by the photographer’s last name. This makes for some strange, wonderful and thought provoking page spreads. We see Cecil Beaton’s portrait of Dame Edith Sitwell from 1956 opposite Bernd and Hilla Becher’s Industrial Facade #23 from 1980.  Makes one think about the nature of a “façade.”  Brothers Cornell Capa and Robert Capa share a page spread. Cornell’s image is Bolshoi Ballet School, Moscow. Three graceful dancers in flowing costumes practice at the barre. The Robert Capa image is Death of a Loyalist Soldier from the Spanish civil war, arguably one of the most recognizable war photographs of the 20^th Century. There is a tragic grace in this soldier’s sudden death as he stretches, falling to the ground on the Cordoba Front. 

Graphical themes often flow wonderfully. We find Fredrick Evans A Sea of Steps flowing into an obscure Walker Evans photo of the back porch of an Alabama clapboard farm house. There is humor as well.  Let’s not forget Weegee’s The Critic opposite a William Wegman Weimaraner wearing swim fins and fake eye balls. There is something for nearly everyone here and well worth the price of admission. No crowds or elbows to the ribs, no tunnel tolls, no parking charges. You can enjoy a nice glass of Chianti while you study photographic history in your favorite easy chair.

Nothing Exceeds Like Excess

Photography has not changed since its origin except in its technical aspects, which for me are not important. 

Henri Cartier-Bresson

For some photographers it’s all about the technology and the equipment. It’s all about having lots of the newest, coolest high-tech stuff.  It’s about super-fast long zoom lenses, sexy camera bodies, filters for all occasions, dedicated flashes, expedition quality ballistic nylon bags, super-light carbon fiber tripods, all manner of enviable accessories. The equipment bug bites and gathering the “must have” gizmos becomes an end in itself. Sometimes hundreds of pounds of equipment are needed just to go out the door before a frame is shot

It is often a legitimate need to have only the most of the best and be prepared for all contingencies. Without question, if you’re running off to cover the revolution in Libya for Time magazine you certainly need the right equipment and you better have some back up plans. Do not miss the money shot of the mercurial Muammar in his latest Michael Jackson tribute outfit or you’ll never again get face time with, the even more mercurial, Time photo editor. Shooting your cousin’s wedding?  Same issue to a large degree. It’s happening now, happening once. Do not miss the bouquet throw or your aunt will never let you forget it. And oh, BTW, your cousin will never give you the phone number of that really cute bridesmaid who actually looked good in the sleeveless fuchsia dress with the taffeta rosettes on the bustle.

We haven’t even touched on the photo processing software, widgets, and plug-ins, monitors, monitor calibration tools, scanners, printers, the computing power needed to run it all and terabytes of storage for the tens of thousands of multi-megapixel “captures,” iterations and back-ups.

I understand this equipment need. I love equipment, do occasionally suffer megapixel or lens length envy and drool over the B&H catalog at every opportunity. But these days I’m more into relative minimalism. One 60D body, one short zoom, one longer zoom, remote release, polarizer, graduated ND filters for landscape work, a budget (but sturdy) tripod, an extra battery and a couple other minor accessories. It all fits in one reasonably priced bag I can carry on a commercial airliner. I don’t necessarily carry the whole kit with me all the time or use everything on every shoot. It really depends on what I’m after on any given day. Generally, I like to keep it simple. I also make every effort to avoid excessive “post processing.” The idea is to avoid getting lost in the foggy forest of equipment lust or miss a shot because I was fumbling in my bag looking for just the right gadget. In the end it’s not about the technology or the equipment. The only equipment Cartier-Bresson carried was a Leica with a 50mm lens. He knew the most important detail about good photography. When all is said and done, it’s all about the image.

Photographic Fear

I've been reading a book called "In the Yikes Zone: A Conversation With Fear" by Mermer Blakeslee.  It’s nominally about skiing. The vignettes and stories throughout the book are about skiers afraid of some aspect of skiing and how the author helps them understand and work through what makes them afraid. They learn how to understand their fear and work with it to improve their performance. The skiers experience degrees of fear from mild discomfort and frustration at not wanting to chance a challenging run to being literally paralyzed at the top of a hill, sometimes even the bunny hill, when they get off the lift. Some of them ski pretty well in their comfort zone but avoid anything remotely challenging. Others are so afraid they need to be guided down a small run with Mermer skiing by their side or skiing backwards in front of them, talking them through every little bump and turn on the way down. Some are new, inexperienced, afraid of their untested potential, of stretching too far. Others have been skiing for years, are very experienced and know well the painful consequences of overreaching.

Some are afraid of injury but most seem to be afraid of more than just getting hurt. They are afraid of confronting the uncomfortable. The extreme cases get anxious, afraid of being afraid which feeds more anxiety and more fear until they’re tense, stiff, paralyzed, can’t feel what their bodies are doing, can’t flow with the terrain. They’re so afraid they can’t begin to become better skiers.

I see many parallels with fear in photographic situations. If you’re afraid of shooting a subject, whether it’s a person or a poisonous snake you’ll get tense, tentative. You won’t flow with the “terrain”. You won’t stay with a shoot long enough or get good shots while you’re doing it.  When you’re afraid in any photographic situation you get timid, tentative with the camera, bringing it to the eye only occasionally, furtively.

But what are we really afraid of? We worry too much…about too many things. We over-think. We’re afraid of being afraid before we even shoot. Afraid of confrontation when we point the camera. Fear of rejection when showing the photo. Fear of over-reaching. Fear of getting hurt. Get over it! Let it go! It’s not as bad as all that. You're not likely to break any bones. It’s only a very small fraction of a second and you're done.