Looking at a photo for more than ten seconds

<blockquote>

<p>"Art is shared."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>I can argue that position too. [sincerely; not being sarcastic]</p>

<p>When animals left the ocean, they took the saline ocean with them in their blood. Instead of being in the water, the water was in them. <em>That</em> quality, that salinity is shared; but of what does "that quality" consist?</p>

<p>Julie,<br>

Your argument is like saying "the Sun is not shared, but the sunlight is", or that "Mother is not shared but mother's love is". Now if I understood you correctly (I may not have, reprimand me as much as you like), it boils down to sharing of art being a rhetorical phrase to express the sharing of the influence of art.</p>

<p>The bigger question is, what would this hair splitting argument give us. I don't think it would make me a better photographer (discussing of Meatyard's philosophy would). I have seen many artists to use this expression of sharing their art with the viewers (which includes the artist) as an inspiration behind their creativity. May be they were using it in a rhetorical way, however inspiration is inspiration. Whatever works in art becomes the personal truth for the artist (and for the viewers).</p>

<p>Everyone's inspiration works in his/her own way. I mostly photograph architecture and inanimate objects (I would like to photograph people, but not very good at it). Many times, I end up sharing my art with myself. It is still sharing, and viewing me through the spectacle of time is one aspect of it. I cannot share my art with my subjects, but I still share nevertheless.</p>

<p>Supriyo, for me, the sharing aspect of art keeps me from thinking self-centeredly. For me, it's not about the kind of hair splitting you are alluding to, and I understand why that's one of your takeaways. That would not be my emphasis.</p>

<p>Seeing art as a matter of sharing keeps me from thinking that another's work of art is anything I want to make it, because supposedly I'm the viewer and in complete charge of my feelings and interpretation. The aspect of sharing is crucial for me, knowing I'm not in charge and knowing that as a viewer I'm in this with the photographer and other viewers as well as history and culture, knowing it's not all about me. Same when I'm a photographer.</p>

<p>Many of my friends now prefer to stay home and save the money on admission to movies. They have big screen tvs which are often hooked up to very good surround sound audio systems. Though I watch my share of movies like that, for me, being in the theater with other living, breathing folks is an important part of the experience. I'd much rather go to a museum, for example, where I will encounter other viewers, to experience art and photography. I don't believe it's ever just an individual response to art that's at play. There is a communal aspect to all this. Symbolism is shared. Visual languages are shared. We "understand" because we've learned how to understand, from others. We've watched people before us understand, respond, and feel.</p>

<p>This all relates to my relationship to the intent of a photographer or artist, which is where I got interested in this thread. As I said, I don't need a forensic study or to know precisely what they intended. (Often what they say they intended is relatively meaningless anyway). But, the intentions I glean from a body of work inform all the pieces within that body of work. And those intentions tie me to an author, who is part of the photo or painting. There is a voice behind every novel, every sculpture, every painting. I find it's important to acknowledge that voice and listen to it to the extent I'm willing and able. That's not to say I don't bring my own voice to someone else's photo. I don't think I can help but do that. But it's to say I don't want to supplant the photographer's voice with my own.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I don't "demand" anything when I look at a work.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>I do, or else I go looking for it in the other trillion or so images available to me.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>So I figured it was a conceptual photograph done by a conceptual artist / photographer.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>That's exactly how I saw it as well. So you admit the photographer allowed one image among the series to be displayed in a way that prevented it to communicate what he intended. The photographer in this sense (maybe beyond his control, maybe not) made the image a sort of teaser for you to go looking at the rest of his work. It changed the meaning of the image.</p>

<p>But something tells me that meaning has been tainted by what appears now as a marketing ploy by others (maybe the publicist?, Julie did say the UN presented this image without reference to the rest of the series of images) which changed how it was to be understood as the photographer originally intended. All in all miscommunication took place.</p>

<p>And now more information how that one image was shown out of context from the series has come to light which further changes the perception of the image as a distraction to the point I can't distinguish the intelligence of the photographer from others who had a hand in just showing that one image on its own. Now I'm too exhausted to not even care to go looking at this photographer's other works.</p>

<p>This morning, as a treat for myself, I am going to share some of my favorite Ken Josephson photos with you. I love sharing pictures with you guys. I have no idea what Josephson meant to share with me, nor do I have any idea what he or I will share with you, nor can I, but I do love the jingle-jangle of our encounter.</p>

<p><a href="https://unrealnature.files.wordpress.com/2016/10/josephson_girlonswing.jpg">This first</a> is ... I just love it. It will seem simple, easy, nostalgic; anybody could have taken it. And, in some sense, it is. But it's also gorgeously composed, dangerous, and a more than a little bit wicked. The figure never fails to take me through a whole stew of emotions. My words are too stiff and literal; <a href="https://unrealnature.files.wordpress.com/2016/10/josephson_girlonswing.jpg">look for yourself</a> and let her, there, then, play with your mind. What do you think?</p>

<p>Josephson is underappreciated nowadays (if not simply forgotten). I think this is a little bit his own fault; he is/was too clever, creative, restless, inventive, impatient with what's been done, to ever settle into making a "body of work." Below, I'll give a few other of his pictures both to show his breadth and to add his more well-known work that you'll easily find online.</p>

<p><a href="https://unrealnature.files.wordpress.com/2016/10/josephson_pigeons.jpg">Here is a delicious visual pun: birds/broken glass</a>. He loved humor. Not a masterpiece, but amazingly deft and graceful, nevertheless.</p>

<p><a href="https://unrealnature.files.wordpress.com/2016/10/josephson_chickens.jpg">Here is a more classic work</a>, one that easily fits into what most people consider "good" photography. Just to show that he could when he wanted to.</p>

<p><a href="https://unrealnature.files.wordpress.com/2016/10/josephson_roadskids.jpg">Here is one that is extremely simple</a>. Probably too simple for some of you, but I love it. It almost makes me dizzy when I look at the swoopy tracks. There's nothing there, but it just <em>flies</em>.</p>

<p>Not linked are any of his nudes which are outstandingly inventive, creative. I'd encourage you to Google-search Josephson nudes and see for yourself. But as I already said, they're restless and never quite stayed-with to completion.</p>

<p>For girls and boys and moths who think they can fly:<br>

.</p>

<p> </p>

<blockquote>

<p>[ ... ]<br>

Now look at Konrad the little thumb-sucker.<br>

<em>Ach!</em> but his poor mama cries when she warns him<br>

The tailor will come for his thumbs if he sucks them.<br>

Quick he can cut them off, easy as paper.<br>

Out goes the mother and <em>wupp!</em> goes the thumbkin in.<br>

Then the door opens. Enter the tailor.<br>

See in the picture the terrible tongue in<br>

His grinning red mouth! In his hands the great shears.<br>

Just as she told him, the tailor goes <em>klipp</em> und <em>klapp</em>.<br>

Eight-fingered Konrad has learned a sad lesson.<br>

Therefore, says Fräulein, shaking her chignon,<br>

Suck you must not or the tailor will chop!</p>

<p>Here is smart Robert the flying boy, bad one.<br>

<em>Hui!</em> How the storm blows and coughs in the treetops.<br>

Mama has told him today he must stay in,<br>

But Robert slips out with umbrella and rain cap.<br>

Now he is flying. The wind sucks and pulls him.<br>

See, he is carried up, smaller and smaller.<br>

His cap flies ahead of him; no one can help him.<br>

Therefore, says Fräulein, smoothing her collar,<br>

Mind me, says Fräulein. God stands up in Heaven.<br>

See how He watches? He snatches the bad ones.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>— <em>last two verses of Maxime W. Kumin's</em> Fräulein Reads Instructive Rhymes / Outside Help for Parents Who May Have Forgotten Herr Doktor Hoffman's "Der Struwelpeter"</p>

 

<p>I look at a photograph or any other piece of art in two stages. The first is very quick -- it has to draw me in and induce me to look longer. If I get past the first stage, I can linger for minutes and frequently will revisit the image a number of times.</p>

<p>But then there are odd ones, like all of Muybridge's work. I don't think I've ever looked at any of his pictures for more than a split second, yet he's deeply in my consciousness. And he's had a huge influence on non-photographic art (film, painting, and sculpture). Odd how simply "getting" something about what they're doing can have so much influence.</p>

<p>I must confess that I approach other people's work in two ways. Firstly, a portrait of an individual, since portraiture does not interest me, will get a few seconds, <em>unless</em> the portrait, in those few seconds, shows something interesting in the subject's character or attitude to life.<br>

Other topics, however, which do strike a chord, can get intense scrutiny for many seconds, extending into minutes, for two general reasons. Firstly, I try to understand the nature of the subject matter, and the approach the photographer used in capturing the image, both artistic and technique-oriented.<br>

Then I will try to work out what my approach would have been to the same subject matter, assuming all other factors were equal (i.e. I was at the site, and young and fit enough to get to the same viewpoint). For the same reasons, I will return to the many books of photographs that I (as I am sure do we all) possess, and often find new aspects of images I thought I had 'seen' before.<br>

Not necessarily trying to copy others' work, but learning what I can to add to 50 years' experience to improve my own shots. </p>

<p>Tony</p>