Breaking free

<p>Keeble and Shuchat is such a great camera store. Don't get down there too often. Palo Alto is only about a 40-minute ride from SF and it's a fun town. Have actually rented some equipment from them just to check it out. And they've been really helpful in answering some questions.</p>

<p>Reason I mentioned Philosophy and questioning was just as a reminder than this is, after all, a Philosophy forum, so it's a natural place to ask and ponder questions.</p>

<p>And as I've mentioned before, for me it's not about conclusions . . . or facts.</p>

<p>Yes, it's hard to mention K&S without mentioning the wonderful staff there, I feel bad I neglected to do this so thanks Fred for mentioning it. I bought some of my darkroom and camera gear from them and also rented a Mamiya 7II for the weekend last year. Just couldn't get the hang of the whole rangefinder thing, but I'm glad I rented first because I was getting awfully close to pulling the trigger on purchasing one.</p>

<p>I feel there's some benefit to taking up another creative activity, something you've never done before, to keep things fresh, even if its say interpretive dance, yodeling, basket weaving, wood carving, etc. Something expressive and maybe a little primitive where I feel there is some cross pollination with photography as a side benefit to taking on something new with some level of commitment.</p>

<p>Tim, it is interesting to me that your comments on the image I posted is quite visceral - sense of speed, possible uncontrollable situation re the "wrong side" of the road, fear of water at an early age, converging lines, childhood memories of being in the front seat of a car and the risk of hydroplaning on a wet road, the unusual high viewpoint (perhaps more visible in the other photos of the series).</p>

<p>This is a very good example of how different takes are possible with many photos. I may misquote Fred, but such considerations "are not about conclusions or facts", but rather about subjective perceptions. Of your impressions, that of a discomfort (fear) of water comes the closest to what I was trying to evoke, although I was attempting to show the heaviness of the atmosphere, the "rain and a wetness in one's face" so to speak. How does rain affect us? The distortion of the trees and road are important to me, including their underlying clarity (again, the effect of the water droplets in distorting the rays of light but retaining sharpness. My desire was as much related to providing an atmosphere or ambiance as a specific symbolism.</p>

<p>Marc, I like your reflection about abstract work being related to your desire to better know oneself and the world (or the philosophical quest). Perhaps we can see at some point some examples. Your current series of posters, while figurative, may contain some more abstract notions in that sense? Before you mentioned the camera store in Pao Alto I had guessed that the owners of the exhibition space had the thoughts of their viewers in mind. I read today that the prominent "Musée d'Orsay" in Paris is holding an exhibition from this weekend onwards on prostitution and the paintings and photographs over the centuries that relate to this subject. No doubt some will not be interested in seeing it.</p>

<p>You are right about the high position as the photos were made in a British rural two-decker bus (whence wrong side of the road). Phil is right about my technique of using a glass medium (very large front window which accepted my choice of a wide angle lens with sufficient depth of field at small apertures (Intentional but unrecorded - I had mentioned f5.6 to f8, but in retrospect it was likely f8 to f11) to register the droplets on the pane as well as the background.</p>

<p>Phil, your analysis is correct. I have used a large pane of glass previously in light snowstorms to record snow flakes before and after they melted on the glass. To answer yours and Tim's comments, i should say that breaking free or exploration and discovery for me in the present case was that I had seldom before attempted to create images that showed how I perceived ancient yet contemporary philosophical and natural elements (air, earth, fire and water) and how I react to them. My evolved approach ("breaking free") in photography is attempting for the first time (for me) to provide a visual sometimes symbolic representation of various media about us - air, light, sound, water, heat, dense matter - and how they are both important to us, to what we see and live in contact with, to our emotional state, to our relationships.</p>

<p>Charles, I have just noted your suggestion, which I also believe is a good adjunct to stimulating evolution in why, what and how we photograph. Accessory activities that are new to us can contribute to our approach and also there without the aforementioned (sorry, I forget who suggested "just do it". Allen?) "overthinking" of what we are doing. </p>

<p>This is a big chunk and a sense of water is just a very small part. I once lived for a few years in this part of England where I shot the photos and the frequent rain did have an effect on me I guess. Whether or not the little series of photos to date represent well my feelings of wetness (Fred's appropriate term) or the sense of rain or water I am, not yet sure. But I am glad to try approaches like this ("sense of air", "sense of light", "sense of sound", "sense of snow", "sense of matter" are likely to be challenging but also informative) which are departures from my past directions. Intentional, in part. But I will let both my previous knowledge or habits in photography and the subject take me where they want.</p>

<p> </p>

<p><em>… forming compositions with a graphic design sense which is hard to shake seeing it was my former career …</em><br>

<em>… taking up another creative activity …</em><br>

A couple of good points, I feel. Professional graphic designers are certainly under pressure to produce images with an immediate impact, as are amateur photographers who frequently enter club competitions and need to catch the judge's eye in the split-second in which this rests on their work. It seems to me inevitable that work with a strong immediate impact will have little if any emotional depth to it – if a photographer or other artist has reached the point where emotional depth is an important factor, then a change of approach is vital.<br>

A relatively simple way of achieving this is to ask oneself two questions. The first is "What is this subject matter trying to say to me?" (as opposed to trying to force your preconceived vision onto the subject matter). The second question is "Have I avoided the obvious?" – attempting to answer this question sincerely may at first be difficult, even painful, but can also be regulatory. I feel that this approach helps artists to break free without falling into the trap of egotism ("Look at me, look how clever I am!") and overthinking.</p>

 

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<p>"What is this subject matter trying to say to me?" (as opposed to trying to force your preconceived vision onto the subject matter). . . . falling into the trap of egotism . . .</p>

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<p>I question the dichotomy you're making, as if the only two choices are allowing the subject to speak to us or <em>forcing</em> a <em>preconceived</em> vision onto it. What if someone is able to impose a newly-arrived-at vision onto it rather than a preconceived one, a spontaneous revelation they've had when viewing the subject that is very much their own imposition? What if they don't force it but suggest it? What if the subject matter itself doesn't much matter to the photographer and he's using it (yes, even exploiting it) precisely to express himself?</p>

<p>Must every photographer really eschew egoism? I don't think so.</p>

<p>It's counterintuitive to me to insist on breaking free to have such clear and distinct restrictions. Breaking free sounds to me like it can have a much more active voice. Sometimes subject matter needs a good swift kick in the a**. ;-)</p>

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<p>It seems to me inevitable that work with a strong immediate impact will have little if any emotional depth to it.</p>

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<p>Nick Ut's Napalm Girl<br /> Stan Stearns's John John Saluting<br /> Alfred Eisenstadt's Kiss<br /> Andres Serrano's Piss Christ<br /> William Eggleston's Red Ceiling with Light Bulb, Greenwood, Mississippi<br /> <br /> I'd say there's a lot of work with only high initial impact that, after a few minutes, falls flat. But high initial impact doesn't mean it will fall flat. A photo can have high initial impact AND plenty of emotional depth as well, as I think the above examples show.</p>

<p>"What is the subject trying to say to me?" Interesting statement and Fred and David have provided a part (although probably different parts) of interpretation of it. David may give most of the control in that process to the subject: Wait long enough and observe critically and the subject may reveal something unique or significant of itself. I see this as a somewhat passive and yet somewhat engaged approach, incomplete in itself but also important as an element of photography. Fred suggests kicking the subject in the a__, provoking a perception of it that may not be obvious at first sight. Exploring a subject means a certain willingness to postpone decision until it has suggested something to the photographer. I think that, except in spontaneous cases where everything comes together quickly and an opportunity is recognized as there and not to be missed (such recognition having a lot to do with the photographer's experience and subjective response), exploring the subject and what it means to the photographer is a valuable initial part of creation. But as I think Fred suggests, we are not passive and have a will to make of the subject what is important to us, whether that is part of a personal need and desire or extended to a desire to communicate one's perception and creation to a wider audience.</p>

<p>I forget who said “I photograph in order to discover what is not obvious”. I like that statement as it implies making of the subject (and the “subject” may simply be a theme) something that the photographer actively engages to produce. It would be nice to see a “half-dome” image that has little to do with what we have been shown to date. Unfortunately, geography means that I cannot contemplate that objective myself. Not change for its own sake, but a different image that would attack our senses on a different level and convey something else about this popular site. Probably Atget did not consider the Eiffel tower particularly Parisian or part of his theme, but with so many similar images of this site there is an appetite for something quite different and yet meaningful (whatever one things meaningful is) and this also would imply an analysis of the subject (exploration) and creative personal action. Perhaps another example of a situation here breaking free is useful.</p>

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<p><em>“I am at war with the obvious.”</em> –William Eggelston </p>

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<p>And he also calls into question the significance of the "subject" of a photo.</p>

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<p><em>“I want to make a picture that could stand on its own, regardless of what it was a picture of. I’ve never been a bit interested in the fact that this was a picture of a blues musician or a street corner or something. ”</em> –William Eggelston</p>

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<p>And another photographer's thoughts about his relationship to "subjects":</p>

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<p><em>"You see something happening and you bang away at it. Either you get what you saw or you get something else--and whichever is better you print."</em> <br>

–Garry Winogrand</p>

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<p> </p>

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<p><em>"</em><em>Photography is about finding out what can happen in the frame. When you put four edges around some facts, you change those facts."</em> <br>

–Garry Winogrand</p>

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<p>I think Winogrand's first statement is really cool. He covers both scenarios, getting what you saw and getting what something else. Also, importantly, a lot happens after the shot's in the bag, choosing which photos to process and print and how to process and print them. A lot goes into why we push the shutter and a lot goes into the decisions we make after we've pushed it.</p>

<p>It's not just what the subject can reveal to us or what we can give to the subject. It's also what our own photos can reveal to us . . . about subjects . . . about ourselves . . . about lots of things. And I'd even question the "about," because "abouts" tend to point to something else and imply meaning, which we don't always need.</p>

<p><em>"You see something happening and you bang away at it. Either you get what you saw or you get something else--and whichever is better you print."</em> <br />–Garry Winogrand<br>

<em>“I want to make a picture that could stand on its own, regardless of what it was a picture of. I’ve never been a bit interested in the fact that this was a picture of a blues musician or a street corner or something. ”</em> –William Eggelston<br>

Thanks for these various quotes related to making images by photography. Eggleston is I think quite clear that simply recording is not his game, in fact I would assume that he is stating what abstract artists might say about any relation of their work to what may be reality or what seems to constitute the apparent apparent figurative nature of the image. In that way he is breaking free or going beyond that constraint.<br>

The word "saw" is important in Winogrand's statement, insofar as seeing is quite different from just looking. That he accepts that some image may be quite different from what he saw is like the element of chance operating (but chance usually favors the prepared mind, so the second option is not fully chance. I am not one who gets a lot from his gritty approach to street subjects, although I see much that is revealing of his subjects in them which is attributable to the way he sees.</p>

<p>Phil, that is a very intriguing shot of the Eiffel tower and the best I have seen. Given the domestic architecture and trees it must have been seen and made with a fairly long focal length so isolating this frame no doubt took some effort. Nature's "towers" blend nicely with Gustav's structure.</p>

<p>The heart of cities is often more evident and real in the small sites and human activity than in the impressive architecture or images of well known monuments. <br>

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<p>That he accepts that some image may be quite different from what he saw is like the element of chance operating</p>

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<p>Good point, Arthur. Chance is important.<br>

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I think it's also <em>photograph</em>y operating. He gets home, he goes through his shots. Some work and some don't because of the photos they make, not because of its relation to what he "saw" or what he was "looking at" at the time.<br>

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I think in many instances the relationship to what was seen is very important to a photographer, at least to me. But I do think he's introducing an important idea that comes into play even when we are concerned with what we actually saw. I think one can incorporate both into photography, and may actually have to. The relationship to what was seen and the non-relationship to it.<br>

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Going through my photos when I get home is as important as whatever goes into the making of my shots, from the most thought-through shots to the most instantaneous and spontaneous. All that pre-pushing-the-shutter planning, spontaneity, and pre-visualiazation (if I was able to) is done now and I'm at a different point in the process, where the photos as photos will speak to me and I will learn from them and perhaps still mold them into something else. Now the seeing starts again . . . seeing my <em>photo</em> and the potential it has and choosing it from among many rejects.</p>

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<p><em>ready at an instant to grasp an image,</em></p>

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<p>Which can be as important and sometimes more important than grasping a subject.</p>

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<p>Going through my photos when I get home is as important as whatever goes into the making of my shots</p>

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<p><br />Phil, I could not agree more. This was (still is, occasionally) the same when going over a series of negatives, printing out a contact sheet and deciding which image we want before printing, and then comparing different printing approaches with each other and improving what I want from the final image. Given the facility of digital photography in producing many images, I think we have to be practical or selective in the making of images. At a recent outing of a group of photographers I made 37 images, while a colleague came back with nearly 1500. Maybe I could have seen more but I would not like to have 1500 images to review, especially of a subject with which interaction is important (for example, portraits).</p>

<p>Your trees are no doubt important but fairly common in form to my eye, so I would definitely first appreciate the image as one of the tower and grasp on the the form analogy between it and the trees. I guessed 100 to 150mm for your lens, but the apparent lean of the tower* does really suggest a less lengthy focal length that you mention (*and the toponomy in the region of the tower is quite flat, being the valley of the Seine). </p>

<p>Fred and Phil, re part of the quote:</p>

 

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<p><em>".....ready at an instant to grasp an image,<br />yet with no image pre-formed in it at any time."</em></p>

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<p>I know that you are both supporters of that remark. I am, too, but I would qualify it by saying that the grabbing in an instant of a particular image is not without plan, however unidentifiable that may seem at the moment. The difference between someone using a camera or seeing subjects in that manner for the first time and a photographer who has thought about images and experienced various scenarios of making pictures for some time, is that the latter brings in less than an instant all that baggage and values to making that instantaneous grab. Various degrees of intent, exploration and spontaneity occur in making photos. It is a combination of these inputs that are important to me and there is much satisfaction in that grabbed image that coincides with our approach or values.</p>

 

<p>Small addition to the forgoing - When we "grasp" an image in an instant that is different for me from an image being created without any grasping, such as that which occurs entirely by accident. The two are quite different, the latter having no input from me, but sometimes something that I later recognize as valuable to keep. A gift.</p>

<p>And yet the best accidents seem to happen to the best photographers!</p>

<p>Fred, that may be possible, but I have not seen that particular proof or statistic. What the best photographers have perhaps is a better eye for discovering an accident once produced. A lot of less competent photographers would not find or recognize the quality of the accident among their work! </p>

<p>Fred, that may be possible, but I have not seen that particular proof or statistic. What the best photographers have perhaps is a better eye for discovering an accident once produced. A lot of less competent photographers would not find or recognize the quality of the accident among their work! </p>

<p>Arthur, I wasn't making a scientific statement that could be proved. This is not a matter of statistics, it's just a way of looking at accidents as possibly less entirely accidental than they may seem. A breaking free, if you will, from a way we might generally think about accidents.</p>

<p>It's related, but a slightly different way of looking at it from "Chance favors the prepared mind."</p>

<p>Accidental things happen each day that don't get photographed. Our capturing of them may be due to the way we've trained our instincts over time to respond. Our unconscious and our gut is always working and that goes into so much of our photographing that we can be surprised about later.</p>

<p>I believe we are each predisposed, because of our past experience, our training, our influences, our genetics, our culture, etc., to seeing a certain way or even to breaking free in certain ways. Whether we noticed the surprising element or not when we were shooting, our non-thinking, non-intentional eye may have picked it up <em>non-accidentally</em> (for many reasons, in fact) and it's only later that we recognize its significance. We would later recognize it (as you say, based on our competence, and I would add other factors beside competence) but we may have been prone at the moment of snapping to find it even though we didn't recognize it at that point.</p>

<p>It's in the same vein that we learn from our own photography. It doesn't necessarily teach us about things that weren't there. It can teach us about things that have been there all the time.</p>

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<p>A lot of less competent photographers would not find or recognize the quality of the accident among their work!</p>

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<p>I also agree with this.</p>

<p>Fred, you make some very interesting points about the nature of and recognition of accidental potential inputs and that which allows us (or not) to capture them and perhaps to break free from other responses. Your point about learning in photography,</p>

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<p>"....It doesn't necessarily teach us about things that weren't there. It can teach us about things that have been there all the time,"</p>

 

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<p>fits into that potential to capture accidental effects as well as to recognize them later in post process.</p>

<p>Maybe part of any act of breaking free is to reconsider an image or series of images we have initially made and to redo them in a different way than originally in mind, or to select just a part of an image or series as offering something quite different.</p>

<p>Sometimes the changes we then make are fairly subtle but they can also be a little more adventurous. Having photographed (in B&W) at an oblique angle a series of row houses of eclectic ("Victorian") architecture I took the single print later on and chopped it into several vertical slices that I then reassembled with gaps to make a different image and final print. The repetitive effect of row architecture was accentuated.</p>

<p>I think we can do a lot of things with the image first captured or the actual print (an object that can be further altered) and I recall a fellow photographer who had made a B&W print of a somewhat controversial restored building and before exhibiting it she decided to tear it in two and reassemble it (with the jagged edges) before framing, together with the gap and a red line drawn through that open intersection. I guess this and my example are partly physical breakings free and are getting into the area of graphics and sometimes, as with her image, communications of social or political nature. </p>

<p>Phil, I much like your last contribution to the discussion. Frank, with all his experience and success with single images, wanted to break free from them and what he termed their limitations, but probably also to find new avenues of expression. The use of words or phrases in photos is not new and among other artists, a number of those photographers who are in the contemporary photography collection in Ottawa present images, multiple or single, with words. The breaking free (or exploration and evolution) of the photographer in those cases may be apparent mainly in their initial such departure from single photo. What happens in the mind of the photographer, and not just changing presentation, is also important. In my water series, quite yet undeveloped, that will be an important thing if it is to really break any ground. I have repeated the same thing in succeeding photos and have not explored any other aspect of sense. </p>

<p>Your series on Palermo is to my mind really good. The initial photo is great (love it) and that with the dog forming only a part of one image while part of the background sounds of the place (which seem well integrated overall). Will have to take a more extended look at it. It is likely a breaking free exploration in your approach.</p>

<p>Personally I think photography exists even when it is combined in multi-media work, such as a mixture of photo, painting, prose or poetry in one work. And your are right in saying what happens outside of the frame (two dimensional limits) of a photograph can be in synergy with its content and communicate beyond it. Interesting things to consider. My chopping up an image and representing it (adding spaces that are part of the effect) was just a simple aspect of that.</p>

<p>I loosened my grip on traditional photography but have not broken free entirely. It is more an additive thing. I now have an art journal where I muse on photography. Digital photography provides an expanded and extended creative life to all of us in ways too numerous to list.<br>

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When shooting I am more aware of what will become traditional B/W, or some kind of “arted” rendering. I have really broken free from printing, mounting and displaying. I do mostly books. <br>

I have a small “Work in Progress” book going at all times where I test images to see how they <em>hang </em>together with others. From the WIP books – I’ve done ten, with around 60 pictures each - themes arise for monographs. I keep several larger, deluxe volumes in the works. <br>

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I believe there is a well developed instinctual ability we nurture and strengthen all our photographic lives. We just <em>know</em> when a picture is right. “Serendipity” favoring the “prepared” mind expression significantly applies to photographers. I shuffle images around in the editing process and seem to reach the <em>right</em> image before I <em>see </em>it.<br>

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<p>I only feel the need to break free from former approaches when I'm feeling especially pretentious or frustrated i.e. "stuck". Generally it seems to be putting the cart before the horse. Just following your natural interest, and really knowing or discovering that (always an evolving process) what that is, and then committing to doing it consistently is what leads to a fresh approach. To certain degree, we do have to each re-invent the wheel for our selves. Whether it is "breaking free" is really irrelevant, isn't it? Pushing for fresh approach, meaning something new, seems to most powerfully arise organically from ones own explorations. I'm not sure Eggleston, for instance, woke up one day and said, how can I break free? I think he got very interested in exploring color and composition and the craft to accomplish that, and then spent quite a bit of energy and time developing it. Breaking free, or what people think of as a new approach, usually comes when it does, after a long commitment to a process/idea. I'm not sure it should necessarily be a goal in and of itself.</p>

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<p>Alan : I loosened my grip on traditional photography but have not broken free entirely - When shooting I am more aware of what will become traditional B/W</p>

<p>Barry : I only feel the need to break free from former approaches when I'm feeling especially pretentious or frustrated i.e. "stuck". Generally it seems to be putting the cart before the horse. Breaking free, or what people think of as a new approach, usually comes when it does, after a long commitment to a process/idea. I'm not sure it should necessarily be a goal in and of itself.</p>

<p>Phil : In my personal works I try to tone down on stylization. I don't want the form or style of a picture to become the subject. The subject should already be wholly formed in the frame ….and… then to be further subjected in the way the individual image and its subject may relate to other images (from Walker Evans & Co. link).</p>

 

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<p>If I understandyour points, Allan is breaking free from traditional photography which is a common thread in most of our experiences and may have greater implications for him in regard to the way he sees subjects. Barry does not see it as an intentional decision to change picture approach values but rather an evolution of an original process or idea. But is evolution unconscious? I wonder also if we are all aware of what that (process/idea) is in our photography and instead see some opportunity to define one (clarification of intent, as much as breaking free from an already conscious process). Phil seeks to minimize the effect of form or style in his pictures (whatever presently that is) in favor of the subject.</p>

<p>The link regarding how pictures relate to each other rather than each being a totality is something that we can certainly pursue if we wish as an approach to breaking free from traditional single image photography. It is the well known use of a series to communicate additional information or meaning. I guess I personally am interested in that approach and the research it implies, but also see a breaking free as a personal mental re-orientation (or simply and more often, a continual re-evaluation) of my picture-making objectives, subjects or manner of seeing them.</p>

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<p>But is evolution unconscious?</p>

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<p>I don't know but making a <em>commitment</em> to one's interest is conscious. I agree with Barry on the importance of a commitment to what one is interested in. It may well be that through commitment breaking free occurs. <br>

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I don't think one has to will the kind of freedom we're talking about in this thread. I think that freedom is a given. I think we will our own slavishness. Regardless, one does have to will a commitment to what one is doing and why one is doing it. To commit is not only to choose but to <em>act</em> on that choice, which is to be free.</p>

<p> Hi, I'm new to Photonet. Your 'Breaking free' struck a chord with me. I practise Mindful Photography and as my journey as a photographer has now taken 3 years, I'm trying to become more creative and individual. At the moment, I'm drawn to abstract water reflections. I don't have Photoshop and only do minimal post-processing (some cropping and contrast adjustment) <img src="/photo/18102572" alt="" /></p>