"It's about. . . ."

<p>Serrano's <em>Piss Christ</em>, which Wouter linked to, is a great example where talk about intentions can be very tricky and indecisive. Many folks looked at that photo, along with its name, and were revolted by it, particularly those with religious ties. Others, who revolt against religion in general, were probably more positively moved by it. Some people didn't personalize it to their own religious leanings and rather saw the symbolism of religion bathed in urine as a metaphor for embodied spirituality. There have been and will be plenty of other ways of seeing this. Serrano tells us it was not his intention to denigrate the church. Who knows whether or not to believe that and to what extent it's true? And is any viewer bound by his interpretation or stated intentions? Can I not still see it as a revolt against the church despite what Serrano may say about it? Don't I have that freedom as a viewer? Once a photographer places his photo in the public eye, he has to let go of it to a certain extent and can't insist on a particular interpretation. A good artist will recognize that his work is a living thing and will take on many interpretations from people of all walks of life. The meaning of his work will likely evolve over time and further distance itself from his original intentions. Serrano might well claim he didn't mean this photo disrespectfully. But that won't make it, in some eyes, not disrespectful. From the moment I saw it, I tended to take it metaphorically and symbolically, as I take most photos with religious content. Though I am turned off pretty much completely by religion, I am not turned off to religious symbolism, as I think it's important stuff in human terms. I appreciate the passion of religion if not its other sides. I see Serrano's as a very passionate photo.</p>

<p>Lannie says his intentions were to capture the reflections. LOL. The minute I view this, I'm drawn to the woman's legs, which are central to the photo. Would Lannie have taken this same shot if it were a young, fit man in shorts? Who knows? But I sense there were more keys here than the reflections. Now this actually bolsters the point that intentions can be an important illuminating factor. Because we learn something about the photo and the photographer by wondering about these things. The intentions help me analyze the relationship of photo to photographer to me, the viewer. Even the way I've posed the question about Lannie's motivation and the woman's legs says as much about me as it does about Lannie or the photo.</p>

<p>Actually, Fred, I shot the reflections a number of times with different subjects. I liked the one posted above better the more I looked at it. It sort of grabbed me, after a fashion. Right after the woman walked by, the heavens opened, which I took as a divine sign of something or other. I wish that I had paid her to redo that walk in the heavy rain (of that <a href="/photodb/folder?folder_id=1030833"><em><strong>disintegrating tropical storm</strong></em></a>). That would have grabbed me even more, I think. (Actually, that does suggest another whole genre of tropical storm photos, one I will not pursue here.)</p>

<p>I really love that shot of the guy walking down the sidewalk. I always thought that that was one of the best daytime street shots I had ever seen, and the colors were and are magical. The comparison with Hopper's work is valid, I believe.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p><div></div>

<p>I find that more and more often that which grabs me is not a technically expressive or refined wow type of image but the images that jolt my view of people, society or things (including even very oft seen and familiar places) that I had previously felt was well evolved (that is, my view) to the point that it would be hard to offer or experience something new. I am also "jolted" by images that are not of a type anticipated and which work on different and sometimes even conflicting planes of perception. Not only do they grab me at first view but their multifunctionality and dissonant elements engage me and offer different "explanations" as I continue to experience them.</p>

<p>The Billy K duos and other images often do that (which I find to be quite rare in the corpus of images that any photographer brings to us). I think that has a lot to do with his approach and objectives. Jack McRitchie is one to cease quickly upon a significant element conveyed in his work (and in that of others on PN) and does so in very few sentences.</p>

<p>I don't know what he thought of this work below (One of more than 450 in Billy K's favorite images folder - it is great to see how he is open to other photographers and how those selected images give additional entry into his own world of thought), but would like to know Jack's view.</p>

<p>It is a surprising work and one where I am conscious of the different planes of expression/meaning it apparently conveys</p>

<p>- the pride of the girl in showing her not imperfect body and that of the fisherman displaying his very "organic" appearing prize catch;<br>

- the (more or less) in focus presence of a dead fish and the slightly out of focus woman, suggesting that neither has any perennity when it comes down to it;<br>

- the surprising interaction of a fish, displayed at an angle as upright as the girl and the girl herself;<br>

- the fish has a very streamlined form, possibly more attractive than the girl if viewed by some alien non-human visitor;<br>

- and if I don't imagine too far, the very present sea from which all life evolved, however humble or prized.</p>

<p>I think it wouldn't be an ill choice for an Atlantic Monthly cover or at least on the title page of an appropriate article within.</p>

<p>http://www.photo.net/photo/5035584</p>

<p>FRED AND MICHAEL (on "intentions" and "motives"):</p>

<p>Below is what I said to Michael about "intentions" on another thread, for what it's worth, which probably isn't much:</p>

<blockquote>

<p>In photography I am the ultimate pragmatist: whatever works. . . . --LK</p>

<p>Lannie, could you be referring to the Principle of Minimum Mutilation? --ML</p>

<p>Holy cow, Michael! I'm not sure how serious you are in invoking a concept out of Quine's obscurantist ramblings about epistemology. I can assure you that rarefied and arcane philosophical claims were the furthest things from my mind when I offered my simple remark just above. I simply meant that I will try different things, and sometimes one method works, and sometimes another does--and I mean "works" not in the sense of realizing my "intentions" but in the sense of pleasing my "eye" (whatever the "eye" really is).</p>

<p>I don't always have a specific intention in mind when I take a photograph. Inferences of intentionality often come after the fact, and from other persons. I typically turn off "the analytical side" of my brain (or mind) when I take photos. I just go with what is pleasing to my eye. I'm really pretty basic and simple-minded. If I take a picture of a pretty girl, it's because she's a pretty girl. I don't typically go much deeper than that. I don't typically even ask why she's a pretty girl--not at the time of the shoot, at least. Later, I might muse over such questions, or ask what makes her so appealing in this or that setting or outfit (or out of it, for that matter). During the shoot, if I like it, I'll shoot it--and ask questions later.</p>

<p>This makes two threads in which you have raised the idea of a photographer's intentions. I have to concede that I have rarely given that issue much consideration where photography is concerned. It would take all of the joy out of it for me. I often have no idea why I want to take a particular picture. "Slowing down" for me is rather prosaic: checking my aperture, ISO, thinking about DOF, etc. I don't get into philosophy at the level of shooting. It would just muddy the waters for me and contribute nothing of any value (that I can see) to the outcome in terms of being able to appreciate or enjoy the photo later.</p>

<p>If I had to invoke any empiricists as to why I take this or that shot, it would probably be Hume, not Quine, Carnap, or Wittgenstein. Knowing my emotions or passions or obsessions would be more helpful to me than looking at my rationally based intentions--and even those emotionally-based considerations are typically thought of <em>ex post facto</em>, if at all. I simply do not find analytic philosophy helpful for me <em>at all</em> in trying to achieve my esthetic goals--whatever they might be.</p>

<p>That said, thank you for elevating the thread into a realm that I had not even considered when I made my rather flippant remark. As I said, I am pretty simple-minded, and never more so than in considering what I like or in what appeals to me as a possible subject or treatment of that subject. I leave that kind of philosophical mess at the door when I go out on a shoot. I can always ruminate about such things later, but so far that has not been particularly productive or insightful for me, either. Photography is an escape for me. I leave my [philosophical] work at the door and turn off my brain to the maximum extent possible when shooting. That's not necessarily good, but "that's me." If I have to think, let it be about exposure, focus, etc. That's about it. As I said, I'm pretty simple-minded, and I have no (a)esthetic theory worthy of the name.</p>

</blockquote>

<center></center>

<p>Fred, you asked about motives, and, Michael, you asked about intentions. . . . (<a href="/casual-conversations-forum/00dKKm"><em><strong>http://www.photo.net/casual-conversations-forum/00dKKm</strong></em></a> )</p>

<p>I shoot what I like. I often don't know my own motives at the time, if ever.</p>

<p>Fred, as to the shot of the woman walking in the rain, yes, it's about the "thunder thighs." As I said, I'm pretty basic. I was being facetious before, but there it is.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Arthur, I will have to give some thought as to why I love that photo, but I think I already know. I will say that I am capable of appreciating it on more than one level. </p>

<p>I haven't a clue as to which form the aliens might find more beautiful, but, yes, it might well be the fish.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Holy cow (again)! Talk about deep Freudian implications! Here is how I phrased the question originally, at the top of the page:</p>

<blockquote>

<p>Sometimes it seems that there is one thing in particular that grabs us or that otherwise "makes the photo work."</p>

<p>Can anybody flesh this out for me with examples?</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Fred, I honestly don't know why I asked the question that way. In retrospect, it seems apropos, though, given the way the thread has gone. My threads seem to want to go that way, it appears. Oh, well, I am not going to lament that fact. I am what I am, and I am not an alien.</p>

<p>Arthur, the fish quite obviously comes in a distant second for me--but you have raised an interesting speculative question.</p>

<p>As for what "It's about. . . ," well, it isn't always about sex, but it is always about looking. That is certain.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Michael, on "intention," I am sitting here asking whether the kinds of questions philosophers have about meaning have a parallel with pictures (and the answer is probably, but not certainly, "yes").</p>

<p>I am thinking specifically about what John Searle had to say about the simple statement:</p>

<p>"Mary will be at the meeting." This can mean certain things, and the person who states it has different intentions:</p>

<p>(1) I state that Mary will be at the meeting.</p>

<p>(2) I question whether Mary will be at the meeting.</p>

<p>(3) I bet that Mary will be at the meeting.</p>

<p>(4) I promise that Mary will be at the meeting.</p>

<p>In addition to different meanings, I may intend different things by saying that Mary will be at the meeting. If I am the boss, I may be saying or implying, "And therefore I expect you to be there, too."</p>

<p>So intentions are clearly important when we speak. Now, the questions for me are at least of two general sorts:</p>

<p>(1) How much of this talk about intention carries over from verbal content to images? That is, are intentions particularly important when we shoot, given the expressive nature of shooting? I am assuming that purely expressive utterances are of a different sort than other communications. Indeed, it is not even clear to me that their "intent" is always to communicate.</p>

<p>(2) Who cares? (Meaning, in this context, does the viewer care or have to care what the intention of the photographer was?)</p>

<p>Sorry for the prolonged and perhaps irrelevant response. It just seemed possibly germane to the discussion that you and Fred were having. There's no doubt more that I could say about the above, but I will leave it at that for now, with all of the questions still hanging.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p> </p>

<blockquote>

<p>How much of this talk about intention carries over from verbal content to images?</p>

</blockquote>

<p>I think, if there are particular intentions, they can carry over a great deal to images and be very significant in producing interesting work. I don't think there HAVE TO BE specific and articulable intentions for a photo to be good or interesting.<br /> <br /> Instinct shooting often is better when a lot of practice has gone into to honing the instincts. (Honing instincts may sound oxymoronic but I kind of like that. Let's just say practice over time often makes one's instincts better.) So, some amount of intentional shooting will more often than not yield better shooting on the fly.<br /> <br /> Lannie, your two street reflection shots would strike me as more expressive and more interesting if they were born of more thought and . . . ironically . . . reflection. That doesn't mean when you were in the moment of shooting. It means now, after the fact, or at some point long before the fact. Though it was the reflections that appealed to you and inspired you to shoot, the first has a central subject of a rather uninteresting woman in shorts. There seems to want to be a story in that photo, but it's just not taking much shape. The reflections get lost in a story that just is not happening.<br /> <br /> Your intentions are seen more clearly in the second shot, where you focus more on what caught your eye and don't distract the viewer as much from that focus. The cars are unfortunate and don't allow the visual strength and energy of the rain and reflections enough room. It would be well worth thinking about capturing reflections in such a way as to inspire the viewer as much as the photographer was obviously inspired by them. Again, not in the moment of shooting, but now with some hindsight which could be put toward future opportunities.<br /> <br /> (By the way, I think Lannie has better photos in his portfolio and have commented in the past on several of them. Those tend to be photos where he's had a little more time to set up, such as some of the house photos and some street scenes which don't seem as much to be grab shots. I know this isn't a critique forum but think my comments are relevant considering the topic and discussion.)<br /> <br /> Now, plenty of photographers make photos as an escape or a hobby or simply a fun time and there's nothing at all wrong with that. But I do suspect that those who do think about what they're doing, not in terms of what lens to use or what shutter speed to set (though these are obviously important as well) but in terms of what they want to express and how to use the language of photography to express it, will generally come up with more layered, textured, and interesting photos. Again, this thinking will NOT have to be done when camera is in hand and moments are passing by. If this kind of thinking is done away from the camera, then holding the camera will very often instinctually produce expressive pictures.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>Who cares? (Meaning, in this context, does the viewer care or have to care what the intention of the photographer was?)</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Good point. And I'd answer "no." Like I said, I will be grabbed by a photo because of what it looks like. But what it looks like is often a result of intentions (even if those intentions weren't obvious at the time and even if the photographer wasn't aware of them at the time). And so, I would submit that most photographers will eventually get around to wondering about the intentions of other photographers relative to their work, for many reasons but, for me, prime among those reasons would be to hone my own expressive output.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>That is, are intentions particularly important when we shoot, given the expressive nature of shooting? I am assuming that purely expressive utterances are of a different sort than other communications.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>We should be careful here. I understand what you're saying and there's merit in it . . . BUT. "Purely" expressive utterances can be very different from the "expressive nature of shooting." Just as expressive verbal storytelling (or written storytelling) is different from purely expressive utterances. A classic purely expressive utterance is "OH!" But that's different from writing a book. A photo may be expressive but I'm not sure it's of the same category as "OH!" It may sometimes be and it may sometimes appear to be. But photos can also be more sophisticated and less purely expressive than OH! They can have the depth of a much more complex yet no less expressive utterance. Intentionality and expressiveness are not at odds!<br /> <br /> I wasn't meaning to minimize the significance of intentions in shooting. I was just saying that they play less of a role when I think of what grabs me about a photo, where I tend to focus on what I'm seeing rather than how it came about. But, OF COURSE, what I'm seeing only comes about because of how it came about, so in that sense, intentions are vital.</p>

<p>Lannie, your inspiration for the OP, the interview by a Leica blog team of a fellow photographer using the monochrome digital camera, sort of responds to Michael's point about intention. It is worth reading. The father of that photographer, experienced at the art, had recommended to his son to grab an image without further thought when something appealed to him, then to use that initial capture to develop the idea in further shots in which other factors would or could be later brought into play (composition, moment, lighting, angle, etc.). He found that the first "grabbed" image was almost always the very best and attributed that to the fact of an almost instantaneous appreciation of the subject and equally spontaneous decision of what to photograph. This he attributed to a result of many years of thought and experience in photography and the preferred approach and values of the photographer coming to bear on the appreciation of a subject and the desire (need) to photograph it.</p>

<p>Although I make some images very intentionally, I agree with that definition of something grabbing you in the process of making a successful photo. It is different from what might grab the viewer, although an instantaneous recognition of something probably also exists as a similar mechanism on the viewer's part - the sum of the viewer's personal values, ideas of art, life, sex and and other values being condensed into the instantaneous appraisal at the moment when the viewer states that a certain image grabs him. </p>

<p>I am sure that we all make images from instants of visual recognition that grab us. These are a few examples of my own photography of different subjects and in which the main element or value (to me) of the image was recognised very rapidly and the need to record it was unquestioned. I don't think any additional thought would have changed or improved the instantaneous perception in these cases. Each image simply grabbed me when I saw it. That doesn't mean that my values or appreciation in these cases are those of others, of course.</p>

<p>http://www.photo.net/photo/10193910<br>

http://www.photo.net/photo/17989565<br>

http://www.photo.net/photo/17720132<br>

http://www.photo.net/photo/11472740</p>

<p>Arthur, intentions can be at play even in the most instantaneous type of shooting. One can form intentions and have a myriad of thoughts at all times of the day or night, and they can be photographic/visual in nature. That will affect one's more spontaneous shooting. The fact that all of us shoot, at times, with no thought and just on instinct really says nothing about our intentions, which are often formed when we don't have the camera in our hand and yet impact our hands when they are holding the camera. Our spontaneity, choice of subject, and ways of shooting that subject may be instantaneous at times (importantly so), but all of that is very much impacted by the thinking we've already done beforehand and the intentions we've already formed long before those moments. That we don't allow thoughts and intentions to get in the way at the moment of shooting is an important part of our photographic behavior. But the "instant of visual recognition that grab us" are very influenced by our life experience and behavior, which includes our modes of thinking and the photographic intentions we form when we're not in those moments.</p>

<p>I think that an artist moves continuously between intention and spontaneous decision. The intention is sort of a road plan to what he is trying to achieve, the spontaneous decision is often related to the final moment of creation of a work within that project. Serrano apparently tried various liquid media into which he submerged various objects including the miniature plastic and wood crucifix. I cannot guess at his real intention of using urine, which may have been as practical as it was symbolic to some, but the result, considered on its own shows an insignificant and commercial small religious statue being transformed in a sort of orange gold light, which has its rather different aesthetic qualities, if we forget about the medium itself. The artist was playing with different fluids which was part of his road plan, but did they all yield a desired visual result?</p>

<p>Enjoying the peace within an isolated small fortified country church in France after a morning of walking and seeing other things, I placed my tripod and small camera on the floor and followed the light patterns created on a wall within the building by light coming through a small stained glass window. Some of the color patterns resembled to me Monet's garden but another arrived and seemed to depict an orange toned Christian cross on a background of other colors and patterns. My intention was to see what the light would do (during about 40 minutes) but the image that was created and clicked before it was gone forever was an instantaneous decision. A person much more religious than me now has it as a symbol of his faith on a wall in his house. The point is that whatever my intention in doing this little series of images, the outcome was not at all predictable.<br>

<br>

http://www.photo.net/photo/8083682</p>

<p>Fred, I just saw your recent note and am glad to see that we are of the same opinion on the subject of the relationship of intention and spontaneity. As I mention in my last note, I think the process of the interaction of the two is continual and influenced by our prior "baggage".</p>

<p>First, a confession . . . I think I went considerably off the beaten track when I mentioned the photographer's intentions without specifying how they contribute to making a photograph work. I then invoked what may be nothing more than a leap of faith when I stated that "talking about them [sic., the visible elements of an image] ultimately would make little sense without also discussing the photographer's intentions." Had I provided an analysis of the role of intentions in a successful image, there may have been a logical connection here.</p>

<p>Part of the problem is that "intention" can be ambiguous. It can be interchangeable with "purpose," or it can refer to an act of consciousness in the sense that some phenomenologist thinkers like Husserl offered - consciousness pointing beyond itself to an object. For ease of reference, I shall use abbreviations I1 and I2.<br>

I1 just doesn't allow an understandable response to the OP. The photographer, in every step of making a photograph, may have certain purposes for it - to tell a particular story, to evoke a specific emotion, etc. A viewer may pick up on these purposes, but it's not because the viewer somehow has access to what the photographer was thinking.</p>

<p>I2 does better in responding to the OP. The process of making a photograph, in its simplest form, begins with the photographer's clicking the shutter. Sad to say, though, this is way too general and probably unhelpful. Lannie, I never read Searle's work beyond Speech Acts. I do understand, though, that a string of words can be used to transform them into an action, e.g., the act of promising. Perhaps in some situations it may make sense to say that one can "utter" a photograph. Right now, I'm not equipped to develop this. And given my long hiatus from reading philosophy, it may never happen.</p>

<p>To bring this to a conclusion, Fred, I recognize that I still tend to view certain matters with too broad a stroke of the brush. ". . . [you] suspect that those who do think about what they're doing, not in terms of what lens to use or what shutter speed to set (though these are obviously important as well) but in terms of what they want to express and how to use the language of photography to express it, will generally come up with more layered, textured, and interesting photos." There may be a connection between the photographer's intentions and what grabs a viewer, but this doesn't always happen.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>A viewer may pick up on these purposes, but it's not because the viewer somehow has access to what the photographer was thinking.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>IMO, there are ways we have access to others' thinking, otherwise there would never be understanding or communication among people. It's by the words they speak, the actions they take, the pictures they make, the way they drive, the way they decorate their house. . . . None of these alone is infallible in terms of understanding a person, but we all access others based on what we see and hear. Photographs can be very telling. As telling as other things. And they can be as misleading as other things. So, reading intentions into a photo is not a science. <br /> <br /> Maybe focusing on intentions is not the best tack to take in understanding the part of the photographer that's important to my viewing of a picture. I tend to read less about intention in photos than I do about emotion, aesthetics, sometimes ethics, and vision. Those all tell me lots about people as well. Intentions are tricky to assign because I never know whether a person intended all the stuff that can be revealed about him or her through the photos. Some of the best photographers can't help but reveal a lot about themselves but I don't think they necessarily intend to do that. Their intention is very often focused on the subject and the making of the photo, but their photographic emotional honesty almost can't be helped if they're genuine and willing to be intimate. They intend to portray a scene or a person or a thing, but that portrayal can be, even <em>unintentionally</em>, very revealing. Also, a good photographer will release unintended feelings in viewers, his or her photographs being emotionally rich enough to allow viewers to experience the photo personally but significantly.<br /> <br /> Now, having said that, I'm not one to overdo the personalization of photos or art, as a viewer. And I mean that in the sense that I experience photos as I would a conversation. Have you ever been told by a good friend or lover that "you're hearing what you want to hear"? And they mean that in a negative way, to tell you you're not connecting. To me, viewing a photo is no different. It requires empathy and listening to another voice besides my own. It suggests listening to the photographer's voice. I try not to see just what I want to see or just what I think is my "personal" take on the photo. As much as it, of course, can be a deeply personal experience, I also think it's a shared experience. For it to be a conversation, I have to not only think and react genuinely and personally, I also have to listen to what's being said <em>in the voice of the person saying it</em>, or in the case of a photo, look at what is being shown to me by someone else in the individual way in which they show it.</p>

<p>Micheal,</p>

<p>I repeat here for interpretation purposes much of Lannie's OP:</p>

<blockquote>

<p>Sometimes it seems that there is one thing in particular that grabs us or that otherwise "makes the photo work."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>My interpretation of what Lannie is getting at is not what grabs us in viewing images (our own, others) but rather what grabs the photographer in making an image, in creating a photo. Perhaps I tend to more often see things as a photographer and not as a reader of photos. What grabs us in our confrontation with a subject to be photographed does relate to purpose regarding the subject or theme as much as to the creative impulse or moment. The viewer who is trying to get into the head of the artist is another subject.</p>

<p>The photographer will bring to bear on an exposure much more than what happens at the instant of exposure. For lack of a better analysis, and that analysis is omnivariant and specific to the subject and the photographer himself, I think it is reasonable to assume that whatever happens in the mind of the photographer when he makes the image is a combination of intention (or "purpose" in regard to the iterative and evolving interplay of the subject and the photographer) and the creative moment or the sometimes unconscious decision of "now". In other words, how can you separate intention and the creative instant as being the stimuli of what grabs the photographer?</p>

<p>It may be either my work or that of another, Arthur, but the topic came to mind while I was observing different effects during black and white conversions of my own color photos. The effects often surprised me, and my own reactions to the variations also surprised me.</p>

<p>As for Fred's comments about the photo of the woman walking, I agree that the photo is mediocre (my term, not his). I was simply playing off of references to "walking the walk" in a previous post. The woman is, of course, the center of interest in the photo, although I would stop short of calling her the "subject," since I had been shooting in that area before she came along. For that shot alone, perhaps she was the subject.</p>

<p>Michael's emphasis on intentions is relevant with regard to that photo, mediocre or not. My intentions shifted during the shoot, for what that's worth.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Fred, I perceive another issue emerging - that of access to another's mental states. Although this is not the time or place, I still would like to address your statement regarding access to how or what another person is thinking. </p>

<p>Your point about what we see and hear is well taken. Yet I see this within the context of communication in general, which may be entirely a different matter than access <em>per se</em>. </p>

<p>One more stab at intention. I'm sure you have received inquiries, as I have, about what I was trying to accomplish with an image. Sometimes the questions are about specific techniques, like a crop I used, or the story I was trying to tell. On other occasions the questions have much more general. In my opinion, these considerations go to my intentions.</p>

<p>I like your point about 'unintentionality', if I may coin a term. Wonderful things in photography may happen without the photographer having intended them to do so. Again, my statement that initially my position initially was stated too strongly is relevant.</p>

<p>Arthur, although your last post is interesting I think it bears on photographic processes that occur after "the moment of exposure." </p>

<p>Another thought, Arthur - Postprocessing may be one phase of the process in which intention may play a significant role (although not necessarily so).</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I'm sure you have received inquiries, as I have, about what I was trying to accomplish with an image.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>I have. And I try to answer genuinely. Sometimes it's hard to say. Sometimes I'll say one thing and then later think of something else that also motivated me. It can be very hard to pin down. And, as I think Wouter said above, sometimes the intentions I speak of really came to me after the photo was taken so what I'm really talking about is not so much what motivated me but what I think about it now or what I think may have motivated me or what retrospectively is likely to have motivated me. I liken it a little to stories I've heard repeated by my family over the years where I would have been too young to remember but I feel like I do remember these things happening.<br /> <br /> In any case, when I've been asked that question, I sense that the photo has already grabbed the viewer and that asking my intentions won't much change their initial reaction, though it can change the way they will experience it from then on.<br /> <br /> Here's an example of one I've been asked about and I like telling the story. When I took this photo, I'd been shooting Andy in heels and we'd left the sneakers behind near this chair by an abandoned building. Someone had come along and was unlacing the sneakers and leaving with just the laces (!) and we called out to the guy that those were Andy's. He hadn't seen us so he left the laces behind alongside the sneakers. Andy took a time out to relace the sneakers, and I grabbed this shot, no posing, no positioning, just one of those in between moments that would have been hard to set up but that happen when you least expect them during a shoot. Knowing that story seems to add texture for people to their enjoyment of the photo and certainly adds a layer for me and for Andy. But what grabs people about the photo, I'd say, is something else. It's what they see and feel from it, not knowing the back story. <br /> <br /> Now that story doesn't really even address my motivations. If I think about it, I suppose I was motivated at least in part by the absurdity of Andy dressed like this lacing up sneakers (when you would expect high heels). Probably also at play for me were the contrasts. I had already completed a lot of shots and it was a very sunny day in a very concrete neighborhood of San Francisco, and I was feeling a pretty high-key-ish slant in my shooting that day, so that was starting to motivate me as well. I also know from experience that those in-between moments should be counted on often to produce some good photo ops. Even when people I'm shooting take breaks (maybe especially when they do), I try to keep on my toes for potential shots.<br /> <img src="http://d6d2h4gfvy8t8.cloudfront.net/14310652-lg.jpg" alt="" width="568" height="800" /></p>

<p>One further thought. Ironically, it may be the enigma of this photo (the seeming incongruousness in it) that is what grabs people. So, actually it's the wondering what's going on (as well as the visual draw) that is often grabbing people (which they've told me). So, if they could actually read my motivations in the photo, it might grab them less. In this case, part of the initial thrill is wondering what in the world was going on.</p>

<p><strong>"In this cas</strong>e" . . . exactly, Fred.</p>

<blockquote>

<p><strong>"In this cas</strong>e" . . . exactly, Fred.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Hmmm. Not sure what this is supposed to mean, your bolding of "in this case". In other cases, yes, intentions are more clear in the photo. Are you saying that intentions being clear from a photo is the <em>"one thing in particular"</em> (the OP's question) that grabs you about a photo? <br>

<br>

Again we seem at a crossroads where we agree on the importance of a photographer's intentions (or lack of them) to a photo, but I still don't understand how those intentions would be the one thing that grabs you.<br>

<br>

I go back to my original simple answer to the question, which is that I can't say it's one thing. It depends on the photo. And, for me, it will be a quality or aspect of the photo that grabs me, not of the photographer.</p>

<p>OK, so now that I said that I can think of at least one exception, and there are probably more. Or, at least, it's an interesting case . . . Leni Riefenstahl. The things that grab me about her photos are the formality, stature, their iconic nature, the lush black and white, respect for human form (in the Olympia series), effective compositions, etc. But knowing more about her and the role she played in the Nazi propaganda machine becomes an extremely influential and significant part of my experience of her photos. It makes the experience complex and gives it an ethical context which I can also appreciate at the same time as deploring what she was a part of. It would be hard to come away from <em>Triumph of the Will</em> without the propagandistic intentions right there on the screen slapping me in the face.</p>

<p><a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=stills+from+triumph+of+the+will&client=safari&rls=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAgQ_AUoAmoVChMIier2i-CUxgIVCTGICh1jWwwj&biw=1434&bih=802">STILLS FROM TRIUMPH OF THE WILL</a></p>

<p><a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=olympia+riefenstahl&client=safari&rls=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAgQ_AUoAmoVChMI7Or5rOCUxgIVRyyICh3owAs4&biw=1434&bih=802">OLYMPIA</a></p>

<p>Finally, Michael, I will ask you to add some of your examples so we can all better understand just what it is you're getting at in concrete rather than just theoretical terms. It would go a long ways toward helping me figure out what you mean. Do you have any examples you can share where a photo grabbed you because of the intentions of the photographer? Tell what it is about the photo that grabbed you and in what way the intentions played a role in your reaction.</p>

<p>Fred, I was referring to te particularity of the image. I have to think about examples. </p>