Photography and Aesthetic Formalism: How Do We Find Aesthetic Value and Beauty in Photographs?

In what is arguably its most rudimentary function, photography fixes the object in the photograph for contemplation by the observer; it

renders the object static and determinate so that it may, in turn, be held up as an object “of interest”. Photography invites the observer

of the object, as concretized by the photograph, to see it, simply, as interesting – as an object of worthy of contemplation. <p>

 

Now, suppose a given photograph fails to be “interesting”. This may be the consequence of some failure on the part of the photographer,

but not necessarily. It may, equally, reflect a failure on the part of the photo viewer. After all, while the photographer is responsible for

presenting the object, through his/her photographic art and technique, in a manner that induces inquisitiveness in the viewer, the viewer

nevertheless retains responsibility for the range of his/her own imagination, passion and capacity for enjoyment. The photographer

cannot impress the viewer who remains unprepared to be enchanted by the world around us. The photographer must invite the viewer,

with utmost eloquence, to contemplate the photographer’s chosen object of interest – the object that the photographer has brought to the

viewer through the fixing-action of photograph-taking. But the viewer must remain open to the invitation – he/she must be prepared to

find the object, as fastened for presentation in the photograph, compelling, worthy of interest no matter how mundane it may otherwise,

and superficially, appear to be.<p>

 

In any event, whether or not the interaction between photographer and viewer is successful, whether or not a given photograph fails to be

“interesting”, the object of the photograph, in and of itself, cannot be said to sustain any responsibility for the outcome. The object itself

is aesthetically inert, just as the material universe, the sheer “stuff” of the surrounding world, is strictly speaking morally barren. It is up

to us, together, as photographer-artist and photograph-observer, to imbue the object with aesthetic value. Whereas the ancients may

have been able to say that beauty (or aesthetic or moral value) resides within the object itself, we inhabit a “disenchanted” world, and are

therefore forced to seek out the beauty in things via contrivances of the mind.<p>

 

How, then, do we find beauty in things? This question, if the above claims are at all plausible, translates into asking how it is that we

make beauty in things? My experience with photography has led me to believe that much depends on our choice of methodology, our

practical approach to engendering a photographic work of art. Here, “aesthetic formalism” furnishes an answer. Not as a theory in the

arts – for, as a theory, aesthetic formalism has been doubted – but rather as a practice, as an approach to photograph-taking. Put

simply, aesthetic formalism states that the aesthetic value of an artwork is not derived from or dependent upon anything outside the

artwork itself. Rather, what matters is the work’s internal, compositional, formal structure. Formalism does not place emphasis on the

artist’s intentions, nor on the context of the work’s genesis, nor on the substantive elements of the work. Instead, emphasis is placed on

the manner in which the work’s elements are composed – how they are arranged, juxtaposed and organized (or for that matter,

disorganized) vis-à-vis each other.<p>

 

Simply put, where photography is concerned, what matters is how the photograph looks, not what it is a photograph of, or what story it

tells, or if it has historical significance, and so on. In this vein, the work produced, say, by the documentary photographers of the <a

href="http://www.magnumphotos.com/Archive/C.aspx?VP=XSpecific_MAG.AgencyHome_VPage&pid=2K7O3R1VX08V">Magnum</a>

agency are not practitioners of aesthetic formalism, for the interest of their work depends heavily on its substance, on what the

photographs are of (usually “exotic” looking people, in “exotic” looking places). On the other hand, some of the “abstract” work of, say,

<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minor_White">Minor White</a> is interesting not because of any obvious and immediate interest-

value in the photographic objects themselves (for example, White's photo of <a href="http://www.attila-

ataner.com/STATEMENT/white5[1].jpg">peeling paint</a>), but rather because of the manner in which the work is put and held together,

its manner of construction … its internal, intra-photographic architecture, as it were. From the standpoint of aesthetic formalism, it

should, in principle, be possible to produce an “interesting” photograph even when the photographer is presented with the most mundane

materials. (I have to note that aesthetic formalism suits me well, as it happens, for other reasons: being a non-professional

photographer, I cannot afford to travel to exotic locations in search of exotic peoples and/or things. What I encounter, daily, for the most

part makes for mundane material for photographic imagery, and so I cannot help but turn necessity into a virtue … if I happen to be

stuck within the confines of my house for days on end, I had better find a way to turn my stucco ceilings into photographic imagery “of

interest”.)<p>

 

Aesthetic formalism cannot, of course, be taken too seriously, nor should form/substance be treated as a kind of absolute dichotomy.

For, some photographers achieve a truly incredible balance between formal composition and substantive weight in their image making –

foremost among our contemporaries is <a href="http://www.edwardburtynsky.com/">Edward Burtynsky</a>, who, in terms of this kind

of balancing feat, is in my view a true and unsurpassed master.<p>

 

In my own photographic practice I tend to adapt a more formalist stance. However, I am by no means a puritan in this regard, since that,

ultimately, is quite impossible. And so, if an observer were to ask me, “Why should I look at this? What is of interest here?”, I would

have to point to something more than internal formal structure of my images. To the extent that I am able to offer any kind of

authoritative comment on my own photographic work (which is always doubtful), the objects that I choose to present to the viewer

through photographic production, the fixing action of photography, are objects of interest because they, the objects, are simultaneously

products of human choice-making (artefacts) and of nature/chance (non-artefacts).<p>

 

Take, for example, an abandoned Olympic sized <a href="http://www.attila-ataner.com/GALLERIES/Pools/index.html">swimming

pool</a>: at one point, the contours of the object took shape in the exact manner in which they did as a consequence of human labour,

i.e., through a process of deliberate decision making, indeed through an innumerable series of choices, both on a large-scale (e.g.,

design) and at the micro-level (e.g., paint application). And yet, over time, nature intervened, dissolving those artificial contours. The end

result – which is to say, more correctly, the point at which the photograph is taken – is an object with a strange kind of beauty, and thus

a photographic image-object worthy of contemplation. At least, the hope is that some measure of that strange beauty found in the object

by the photographer has been successfully captured and translated into the photographic image, through careful attention to formal

composition.<p>

 

But note, further: this interplay between human creations (the “artificial”) and the mechanics of nature (the “natural”) need not be

represented so bluntly as in a photograph of a derelict, decaying swimming pool. Take a building put up against the sky by an architect,

a <a href="http://www.attila-ataner.com/GALLERIES/Architecture%20(Daytime)%201%20of%202/index.html">“skyscraper”</a>. The

architect challenges the sky, seeking to impose the architect’s “vision” of how this particular bit of space (this segment of our visual

spectrum) should appear. And yet, the sky responds in turn, by refusing to stand perfectly still as the building’s backdrop, for it has its

own, ever-changing moods (its weather, among other variations) that continually illuminate and re-illuminate the building’s façade, thus

varying its image, its appearance-to-us. Likewise, the electrician criss-crosses our <a href="http://www.attila-

ataner.com/GALLERIES/Aesthetic%20Formalism/index.html">urban skies</a> with wiring, and yet the sky somehow overwhelms these

cuts. And, likewise again, the construction worker, supported by a colossal infrastructure of machinery and labour-power, hoists massive

steel beams up over one paved <a href="http://www.attila-ataner.com/GALLERIES/Expressway/index.html">expressway</a> to create

another atop, which in turn solidifies and strengthens the intricate latticework of the very infrastructure that made each expressway

possible. And yet, very quickly, the constructor’s steel beams and concrete slabs themselves become covered by a latticework of rust

and mildew. Again, I think there is a peculiar kind of beauty to be found (made?) here.<p>

 

Of course, the photographer’s goal (my goal) is not always or necessarily to capture and exhibit the beauty of this interplay between

artifice and nature (whether seen as a conflict or a harmony of sorts). Alas, moments of beauty are exceedingly rare, and our capacity to

make them determinate through the fixing action of photograph-taking is quite limited. The photographer’s more humble vocation, thus,

is simply follow through on his/her inquisitiveness about the objects that surround us, then to invite the observer to a moment of

contemplation (of the object fastened within the photograph, as chosen by the photographer), and only then, perhaps, to induce and to

foster an experience, a perception, of beauty. Some few photographers go beyond even this, and somehow manage to present us with

images that approach the sublime.<p>

 

But how does photography, photography in particular, manage to achieve this? In contrast, that is, to all other art forms. I think it must

have something to do with this: the nature and mechanics of photography are such that the photographer is highly constrained in the

range of choices he/she is able to make in producing the photographic image. This is because the photographic image is itself highly

constrained by the captured object, indeed by the external world as a whole. [*] The sculptor, the painter, the musician, and even less

the author, let alone the poet – each of them do not have such constraints as the photographer. (Consider this: the author-poets’

boundaries are, ultimately, only those of imagination and language itself … what a vast resource!)<p>

 

The essence of photography is this limitedness, both in terms of the source material for image-making and, thus, the photographer’s

capacity for choice. This is also the greatness, the “genius”, of photography: the photographer is, ultimately, severely constrained as to

how the object will present itself through the fixing-action of the photographic image. (Hence my personal tendency to avoid extensive

digital manipulation, which otherwise greatly expands the photographer’s possibilities; my lament, here, is that the digital age, by vastly

extending the photographer’s decision making range, has made non-manipulation a choice in itself, a deliberate decision not to

manipulate, and has therefore undermined what, in my view, is the core characteristic of photography.) Again, consider this: the

photographer aims to achieve within the bounds of a (typically) square frame what the novelist may explore within the expanse of the

book binds. For the photographer, the object will almost always exceed the boundaries of the photographic frame, whether that object is

a mere physical thing (as in formalistically oriented photography that focuses on composition) or an emotion (as in the substantive

photography of the documentary mode, or portraiture).<p>

 

What is remarkable, and what makes for truly astonishing art in the photographic form, is that some few photographers are able to

capture and encapsulate the object, as a whole in itself, despite the otherwise severe constraints of photography. They are thus able to

hold the object up for us to contemplate as a true object of beauty and, very seldom, the sublime.<p>

 

Naturally, I don’t and cannot count myself among them. But anyhow, as a photographer, I dare to present the observer with my (always

provisional) efforts … <a href="http://www.attila-ataner.com/"> and ask them to please enjoy</a>. <p>

 

[* footnote] To the extent that I presuppose that photography remains an essentially “representational” medium, my views here are rather

orthodox. I realize that contemporary theories of art (or at least certain branches thereof) have sought to dissolve and eventually

overcome certain familiar dichotomies – in the main instance, between subject and object, the internal and external, or the observer and

the (thing) observed, and so on. Nevertheless, I personally find it difficult to think clearly about photography without resorting to some

such dichotomies, and so proceed as if they are not inherently problematic, knowing full well they may be.

I'd question some of the premises.

 

"photography fixes the object in the photograph for contemplation by the observer; it renders the object static and

determinate so that it may, in turn, be held up as an object “of interest”. Photography invites the observer of the object,

as concretized by the photograph, to see it, simply, as interesting – as an object of worthy of contemplation."

 

As you suggest, this is only one possible aspect of photography, and a rather rudimentary one at that. Often a

photograph is not "about" the object which is its subject. Sometimes that object is simply a means to an end.

 

"the object of the photograph, in and of itself, cannot be said to sustain any responsibility for the outcome. The object

itself is aesthetically inert, just as the material universe, the sheer “stuff” of the surrounding world, is strictly speaking

morally barren. It is up to us, together, as photographer-artist and photograph-observer, to imbue the object with

aesthetic value."

 

I think you may be comparing apples and oranges. I would agree that the world is morally barren, strictly speaking, and

that humans imbue morality. I would also agree that both objects in the world and objects in photographs and

photographs as objects are aesthetically barren (or neutral) until we imbue them with aesthetic qualities. But from all that

it doesn't follow that "the object of the photograph, in and of itself, cannot be said to sustain any responsibility for the

outcome." Sure the object photographed has responsibility for the outcome (in a certain sense of the word

"responsibility"). Because humans will have already imbued these in-the-world objects with an aesthetic quality, that

aesthetic quality will often translate through to a photograph.

 

It is true that, for example, a "beautiful" model does not make a "beautiful" photograph. A beautiful model may be

photographed poorly and make an ugly final product. Nevertheless, most humans will still respond to a certain type of

model in a certain type of way. It is very difficult to break all of our preconceived and inherited biases about both moral

and aesthetic judgments. Great artists and very discerning viewers, together, will challenge those biases and

preconceptions, but to suggest that we all start on neutral or barren ground when viewing a photograph or a work of art

seems untenable.

 

Often, works of art themselves are photographed, as are architectural structures. When we respond to these, we are not

just responding to the formal elements presented, we are also responding in part to how those works of art or

architecture would hit us in the three-dimensional world. If someone photographs Rodin's thinker, even in the most

compelling and unique manner, my associations and gut reactions to the actual Rodin statue will, of course, play a role

in my reaction. As a savvy critic, I may have to put my judgment about the quality of Rodin's statue aside in assessing

the quality of the photograph. Many critics forget to do this, just as they mistake the likeness of a pretty nude woman for a beautiful

photograph. Nevertheless, my visceral feelings about Rodin's statue and my visceral feelings about nude women cannot

simply be annihilated when I am viewing photographs of them. Those non-photographic elements will always be at play.

There's too much here for my tiny mind to grasp all at once. However, this comment:<p><i>What is remarkable, and what makes for truly astonishing art in the photographic form, is that some few photographers are able to capture and encapsulate the object, as a whole in itself,</i><p>strikes me as the opposite of what I believe, which was best stated by Clarence John Laughlin: <p><i>What is remarkable, and what makes for truly astonishing art in the photographic form, is that some few photographers are able to capture and encapsulate the object, as a whole in itself.</i>

Thanks Jeff...I didn't want to have to read that far. Now I'm wondering if I should get out some of my other books like, "Photography Speaks / 150 Photographers on Their Art," to find out how many other original thoughts are contained in the post....

Whoops, what Laughlin said was:

 

<p><i>

It should be possible for even the photographer - just as for the creative poet of painter - to use the object as a stepping stone to a realm of meaning completely beyond itself</i>

Well...that's better than "my bad."

 

But, in any event the idea that photography is about aesthetic beauty, or even needs to be about beauty, or even address it I find less than two-dimensional thinking. There are so many examples of photographers who are not concerned with beauty or presenting anything approaching beauty - Lee Friedlander, Robert Adams, Lewis Baltz, come to mind immediately, but there are so many others. They are not concerned with beauty but of presenting dense narratives of, what to most, are every day scenes.

 

I would also disagree with the idea that the subject exceeds the boundary of the frame. By definition, what is contained within the frame lines IS the subject because the photographer has chosen to exclude everything that is not. The fact that a scene or object may extend beyond the framelines is meaningless - by their exclusion they are not the subject of interest.

 

"...and only then, perhaps, to induce and to foster an experience, a perception, of beauty. Some few photographers go beyond even this, and somehow manage to present us with images that approach the sublime."

 

Thank the Lord I never feel the obligation to do any of that. I understand that for some people, attempting to render everything as "sublime" is a windmill tilt they can't resist. But, again I think it's fairly shallow and ignores so many other aspects of both subjective and personal interpretation, and the many other levels beyond beauty / sublime that can be explored.

 

In fact, in many cases the sublime photographs are like wedding cakes - all artifice and no taste.

"Photography and Aesthetic Formalism: How Do We Find Aesthetic Value and Beauty in Photographs?"

 

By using our eyes.

<i>But, in any event the idea that photography is about aesthetic beauty, or even needs to be about beauty, or even address it I find less than two-dimensional thinking.</i><P>I would agree with this also. I am hardly interested in "beauty" for the most part, like some other photographers. I am much more interested in using photography to show things other than "beauty" and hopefully speak to some other place in the spectrum of aesthetic values.

It's that old intellectualization coming back round again. Just do it, just do it. Think too much and the moment is gone. See the image, be the image, expose the image.

In setting out and disseminating his thoughts on a given subject matter, the author tends to imagine that the reader will

possess certain qualities; perhaps most importantly, intellectual generosity and patience. Alas, the world is not like that,

and there's very little one can do to ensure one's actual readers will resemble one's imagined readers.

 

I tend to write at length, just partly in the hope that those who cannot bear to follow along on a message lasting more

than a pre-packaged two minutes will simply stay away; lengthy passages, and even somewhat "turgid" writing (as

perceived by some, at least), are a kind of useful defense mechanism against unfortunate sufferers of attention deficit

disorder.

 

But no! Inevitably, those who cannot bother to read through a bit of writing - especially, alas, on the internet -

nevertheless bother to respond. Indeed, it is often precisely the ADD type who tends to insist on responding with his

own, always all important, commentary - with all due haste.

 

Still, writing is worthwhile (at least as far as I'm concerned) because, in putting one's thoughts/ideas/notions out there,

one can learn a great deal, from any kind of reaction - even from the commentary of intellectual cretins like Mr.

Swinehart.

 

The term "beauty" has been latched on to, here, with the assumption that it comes pre-defined - as if the contours of

such a broad concept as "beauty" are pre-determined. Obviously, if there are photographer-artists out there who insist

that their work is emphatically not! about beauty, some inevitably narrow idea(l) of beauty is being applied.

 

My mistake is not to have said anything about my understanding of that term, and not to have clarified that, at least as I

see it, "beauty" is a rather expansive concept, such that it actually may apply to the work of self-professed non- or even

anti-beautician photographer-artists.

 

But my even bigger mistake, in all honesty, is actually not to have thought about all this enough. And so I'm quite

grateful for the responses so far.

 

I will venture further rejoinders once I give "beauty", as it applies to photography, some further serious thought. (No

doubt, by then Mr. Swinehart will have long moved on to complaining about this or that deficiency in the postings/threads

of other members.)

Attilla,

 

I thought the same thing as you. If something is too much or seems too long to read, why not just pass it by? Why

respond? Seems like it would just be to hear yourself talk.

 

What's really unfortunate, though, is that the only person you've actually responded to is one who has done just that.

Those, like me, who actually read and seriously responded to your writings, although with some disagreement, got no

response or thoughts from you, no continuation of dialogue. It's strange to complain about those that misunderstood you because they

couldn't be

bothered to really read what you wrote while ignoring those who understood and engaged you on your own terms.

Fred,

 

My sincere apologies! (The flesh is weak ;-) I did actually read your very interesting response, and am very much

grateful for it. I was going to respond once I gave "beauty" some further thought, using your response to develop my

ideas better/further and incorporating your comments into a further, proper rejoinder. I guess I just felt I needed to get

that one main point out of the way first. I also found Jeff's response, and the quote from Laughlin, very interesting. I only

need, and kindly ask, for some few moments to digest.

 

Cheers!

PS - I hope it's understandable, albeit unfortunate, that my priority in writing a rejoinder will have been set by accusations of

lack of originality, plagiarism (clearly implied), less than "two dimensional" thinking, shallowness, etc. etc. etc. I felt the

idiocy had to be addressed first - but that, I suppose, reveals a certain impatience on my part.

Attila--

 

I understand your gut reaction. I probably would have done similarly myself. Thanks for the response!

Readers are entitled to skip work that's badly written.

Read and digest Strunk & White's "The Elements of Style."

 

http://www.pearsonhighered.com/academic/product/0,3110,020530902X,00.html

"There are so many examples of photographers who are not concerned with beauty or presenting anything approaching beauty - Lee Friedlander, Robert Adams, Lewis Baltz, come to mind immediately..."

 

Steve, I think Friedlander's recent nudes are objects of beauty..some curators claim his recent scenic tangles are as well, but I won't go that far ( nobody's paying me to do that).

Fred -- Thanks again for your thoughtful comments. I have a couple of alas not-so brief points (with more to follow, especially in

connection with the concept of "beauty", as previously promised), but just bear with me: <p>

 

(1) <p>

 

In response to my claim that "Photography invites the observer of the object, as concretized by the photograph, to see it, simply,

as interesting – as an object of worthy of contemplation.", you rightly observe: "As you suggest, this is only one possible aspect

of photography, and a rather rudimentary one at that. Often a photograph is not "about" the object which is its subject.

Sometimes that object is simply a means to an end." <p>

 

I'd maintain, nevertheless, that where an object that is the subject of a photograph is indeed capable of being a "means to an

end", this alone may render such an object worthy of contemplation. It is not small feat to chose one's means towards an

ultimate end. Depending on the nature of the ultimate end sought, not just any object will do. There must be something about the

object of photographic choice - something special/unique to that object - that allows it to be the photographer's appropriate

means for the posited end, i.e., the facilitator of the photographer's ultimate goal. And so, precisely in being a photographic

object that enables the photographer to reach his/her ultimate end, a photographic object that yields to the photographer's ends,

must render that object "of interest" - or more precisely, "of interest as the appropriate/best means fitted towards the given end".

Thus, the object chosen for presentation via the fixing action of photography does/must retain its centrality in this sense: to use a

fairly simplistic example: supposing the photographer wanted to say something about the "grandeur of nature", and that this is

his/her ultimate end/goal; well, he/she wouldn't (necessarily) do well to chose to take a picture of, say, the Eiffel Tower, as this

would not (necessarily) be the proper means for attaining the desired end, at least not in any obvious or direct sense. Simply put,

even where the given photographic object is not itself the ultimate subject matter sought by the photographer, even where the

photo is not "about" the photographically captured object, nevertheless that object must be "of interest" precisely(!) in serving as

the photographer's means. <p>

 

Moreover, some objects are all the more "interesting" precisely because they serve as the best, or the most imaginative or

original, or the most unique "means" to a further/ulterior goal. Just consider Man Ray's 1918 photo of an eggbeater titled "Man"

and corresponding photo of some kitchen utensil that he titled "Woman" (See this <a

href="http://images.artnet.com/artwork_images/264/209654t.jpg">link</a>) Clearly, given their titles, Man Ray's photographs,

here, are not "about" the eggbeater and other utensil. And yet, they do stand as fascinating/unique/imaginative, and yes,

"interesting", photographic objects - i.e., as well and interestingly chosen objects, serving as means to ultimately very

unexpected ends/goals. In essence, they are objects serving as Man Ray's metaphors, and that in itself renders them "of (great)

interest". <p>

 

(2) <p>

 

You respond to my suggestion that we encounter a disenchanted world, a world that is, strictly speaking, morally and

aesthetically barren - and that we therefore imbue objects in the world with aesthetic or moral value - we don't find the latter in the

world, we make it - and that, therefore, the objects themselves cannot be "responsible" for the aesthetic outcome, i.e., the

ultimate aesthetic value possessed by the photographic image. <p>

 

In response, you maintain, in part, the following: "But from all that it doesn't follow that "the object of the photograph, in and of

itself, cannot be said to sustain any responsibility for the outcome." Sure the object photographed has responsibility for the

outcome (in a certain sense of the word "responsibility"). Because humans will have already imbued these in-the-world objects

with an aesthetic quality, that aesthetic quality will often translate through to a photograph. ... It is true that, for example, a

"beautiful" model does not make a "beautiful" photograph. A beautiful model may be photographed poorly and make an ugly

final product. Nevertheless, most humans will still respond to a certain type of model in a certain type of way. It is very difficult to

break all of our preconceived and inherited biases about both moral and aesthetic judgments. Great artists and very discerning

viewers, together, will challenge those biases and preconceptions, but to suggest that we all start on neutral or barren ground

when viewing a photograph or a work of art seems untenable. ... [M]y visceral feelings about Rodin's statue and my visceral

feelings about nude women cannot simply be annihilated when I am viewing photographs of them. Those non-photographic

elements will always be at play." <p>

 

But here, you're actually reinforcing my point, albeit with greater subtlety/nuance. If we encounter objects in a photograph with

certain preconceptions or inherited "biases" or certain pre-existing "visceral" feelings, then that's just one of the modes of, one of

the aspects of, the manner in which we "imbue" objects with aesthetic (or other) value - it is part of the way in which we "make"

the "beauty" in/of things, rather than merely finding such "beauty" pre-made/pre-packaged/pre-packaged for us. I would never

suggest that we start on neutral or barren ground in encountering objects, either via photographic imaging or in/by themselves.

The world, the sheer physical stuff that surrounds us, may be aesthetically/morally barren and neutral, but our minds, our

thought, whether conscious or unconscious, is certainly not. Thus, I fully agree with your suggestion that we always already

approach a given photographic object with pre-existing, pre-conditioned biases/perspectives/standpoints/goals-in-

mind/conceptions/etc. But that just goes to reinforce my initial claim that we do, after all, encounter a disenchanted world that we

then imbue with aesthetic or moral value, that we then "re-enchant" - the point being that WE do this, not the objects themselves.

The subtlety/nuance you are adding, and for which I am grateful, is that "non-photographic" elements will always be at play. Yes,

definitely! In coming to a photograph we always already carry with us a great deal of baggage; we encounter it with various

biases/pre-conceptions/etc. This is just how we, in part, are enabled to make sense of the work, to give it meaning - by drawing

on our background stock of experience (a process/phenomenon well described and explored by Malcolm Gladwell in his book

<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/01/16/books/review/16COVERBR.html">Blink</a> ). But again, this cannot mean that the

object itself bears "responsibility" for our aesthetic or moral judgments, or the aesthetic value of the photograph. <p>

 

The valuable and interesting point I think you're making is that we do not and cannot approach a photograph in a vacuum, as it

were - that is, by isolating and focusing just on its photographic aesthetic merits. In my view, this is to some extent regrettable,

albeit unavoidable. Sometimes we fail to attend just to the photographic image itself, but are rather overwhelmed and unduly

influenced by our pre-existing prejudices. Hence the danger of dismissing a photograph as uninteresting only because its

subject matter reminds us of some extraneous issue, of something outside and beyond the scope of the photographic art work

itself. To take a simple, and maybe simplistic, extreme example: consider the racist who inevitably fails to discern the aesthetic

value of a portrait of an African individual, precisely because he/she is racist; or consider the misogynist who fails to appreciate

(the value) of a fine-art nude because he is unable to see it as anything more than just porn. <p>

 

Thanks again for your replies. <p>

 

Further rejoinders to follow. <p>

 

Cheers!

The object photographed and the object of the photograph and "Photography invites the observer of the object, as

concretized by the photograph" seems to miss the photograph. This all seems to assume that photographs have a

'main subject' or 'point of focus', that photographs are about "objects" (or 'the subject'). There's some

evidence that photos of that sort are cultural expressions and not universal. In a thread here a year or so

back, there was a link to a study of how viewers view photos. Western viewers tended to hunt out and fix on a

'main subject' or 'point of focus' and rest their eyes there, while East Asian viewers tended to scan around a

photo and not come to rest on a 'point of focus'. Some East Asian photographers attempting to follow their

cultures' historical styles of art are aware of this and break with the Western tradition that so informs

photography.

 

There is a 'tyranny' of the 'point of focus' and 'the main subject', the rules of composition that enhance that

'tyranny', and the rules of focus/oof that amount to the aesthetic discussed here.

Don - Thanks so much for your comment! That's a very good point, and I fully acknowledge/accept it. Yes, in my

passages above, I have over-focused on focus, as it were. In fact, I recently rated a photo on the critique forum poorly

(something I rarely do) because I felt it lacked "focus", a central subject around which the elements were/should be

organized. Now I appreciate that this can be a mistake. I believe Ansel Adams tended to insist on there being a central

object, all else being "confused seeing" (I think he called it that, or something similar).

 

That there might be a cultural element here, a divergence in the ways of seeing, is all the more interesting - and

something we should be cognizant of, and take more care not to impose our pre-conceived notions about elements of

style upon works that follow a tradition different from our own.

 

Still, your basic point can be fairly readily incorporated into what I'm trying to get at above: instead of saying "the" object

of the photograph, we can still speak of multiple/diverse points of focus within the image. The photograph may be

considered as a medium/method by means of which multiple, a plurality of, "objects of interest" are presented to the

viewer. Indeed, as Fred suggests (if I've understood him correctly), the ultimate object/point of interest in the photograph

might not even be contained within the photograph itself - the photographer may be seeking to take us beyond that which

he actually depicts in the image.

 

Either way, the more basic point is that we should approach photographic works of art with a certain openness - a

willingness to be surprised and/or taken outside of our comfort zone. Hence the collaborative exercise as between

photographer and viewer: the former must make his "point" as eloquently as possible, while the latter must keep his/her

senses open to receiving/perceiving the artist's "point. (I put that word in scare quotes to ensure we don't treat it

monolithically - a point can be any number of different things, including a plurality of object-subjects.)

 

Thanks again! Cheers!

"the more basic point is that we should approach photographic works of art with a certain openness - a willingness to be

surprised and/or taken outside of our comfort zone."

 

I'm not sure there should be a "should" when discussing photographic approach. Nevertheless, I think this kind of

approach suits me and, often, photographers that utilize it grab my attention.

 

"I'd maintain, nevertheless, that where an object that is the subject of a photograph is indeed capable of being a "means

to an end", this alone may render such an object worthy of contemplation."

 

This is a little tricky and a little circular, I think. Reminds me of Hobbesian ethics, whereby even the most charitable act

ultimately is considered to have been done out of self interest. You do what makes you feel good and even if you go to

great sacrifice, the sacrifice made feels better than having what you've given up. So you really haven't sacrificed, just like you've really

never gone beyond the object.

 

"Depending on the nature of the ultimate end sought, not just any object will do."

 

Sometimes, indeed any object will do. If the ultimate end is other than interest in an object, for example, expressing

something about light, shadow, texture, dimension, emotion, subject, then the choice of the object may very well be less

important than the expression of the artist or photographer.

 

"There must be something about the object of photographic choice - something special/unique to that object - that allows

it to be the photographer's appropriate means for the posited end"

 

It may very well be the case that the special thing about the object is simply that it was there.

 

"Appropriateness" is often antithetical to creativity and vision. If my goal, for example were to show a relationship

between movement and light, there would be an unlimited number of objects that could be used and there might also be no

discernible object used. If my goal were to evoke sadness, I could use a frowning child's face with a teardrop or a lonely

fire hydrant on a deserted street. Any limits one might propose to the choice of objects to convey a certain emotion

would be just that, a limit to creative imagination.

 

"consider the racist who inevitably fails to discern the aesthetic value of a portrait of an African individual"

 

See, now it seems to me that you've just put the aesthetic value of the portrait of the African individual into the portrait,

as if the racist has missed something inherent in the portrait. Why isn't the racist allowed not to aesthetically value

something that he finds representative of something he hates?

 

I, for example, see many very good photographs of homeless people. They have pathos, amazing texture, lighting, etc.

Yet I dislike most of them. What many others find "important," "heart-rending," "oh-so-human" I find exploitive, intrusive,

and dehumanizing. I refuse simply to contemplate with interest the object of the photo, as if it were a green pepper

perfectly exposed.

 

I think there's a good debate to be had about Leni Riefenstahl's Olympiad and Triumph of the Will, which formally and

"aesthetically" speaking are certainly tours de force. Nevertheless, there are those that refuse to get past the politics of

those works and I can't blame them for, therefore, not being willing to contemplate them with that disinterest with which

art is supposed to be approached. Do I appreciate the beauty of the diving bodies and camera work in Olympiad,

divorcing the statement that was being made with these images from the images themselves? Why should I? If not, then

I approach Riefenstahl as the misogynist approaches the nude and as the racist approaches the portrait.

 

The ultimate object of a photograph might not be a thing. It might be light, shadow, emotion, texture, movement, time,

nostalgia, and it is oftentimes something rather intangible. We've often talked about transcendence in these forums and

it's an important aesthetic and artistic/creative concept. I'm not sure why the "formal" object would be any more

interesting than the transcendent aspect it suggests.

 

"the photographic image is itself highly constrained by the captured object, indeed by the external world as a whole."

 

What is possibly constraining about the external world? There's more than enough out there to last me a few

photographic lifetimes. It's not photography that's constrained or the external world that's constraining, it would only be

one's imagination (or lack thereof) that constrains oneself. Surely, photography is different from painting, sculpture, and

moreso from music. But as surely, it is no more constrained than any of those. Only if one doesn't see the intangible

side of photography and the transcendent aspect that our relationship to any object in the world has could one feel

constrained.

 

Consider Sartre's notion of radical freedom. It is only in man's "being-for-itself," man's ability always to define and

redefine himself, that he is truly free. This freedom (this nothingness) is understood *as opposed to* and *in relationship

to* both the Other and to "being-in-itself" (those things that come into being already defined -- objects in the world

already created or at some point imbued with a purpose). "Being-in-itself" is, in itself, constrained (to a limited definition

of purpose). A paperweight is used to hold down papers. It is utilitarian. It does not create its own definition or purpose. The creator and

the user do that. Man, unlike the paperweight, and in his relationship to the world, is destined to be free and always must choose his

purpose and definition. Perhaps that's how

I see the photographer in his relationship to the objects in the world that he photographs: radically free.

Usually I read all posts before I contribute my own, but I didn't have the patience today. I was a philosophy major in college. One thing is for sure, people are still debating the same things they were back in the day of Kant and Descartes (who were pretty much in opposition with each other on the subject).

I believe (and this is my own words here) that art is a visual way to represent the artist's own creativity, but photography is a creative way to represent the visual. As photographers we have a fundamental creative side that sets us apart from any ordinary person with a camera.

There are people who don't yet see the artistic talent that digital photography requires, sticking to an old school approach of film and guesswork. I love film photography, but fail to see how it is any more artistic than digital work (photoshop is a skill and a tool that can transform the ordinary).

I mention all these things because they all tie into people's perception of the artistic value of photography at a whole. I believe very strongly that art is composed of layers: the product itself has an aesthetic quality that is independent of circumstance (including photographer and viewer), and the product itself also has dependent qualities that allow for deeper appreciation/criticism of it (who the photographer is in relation to viewer, the significance of the subject, the personal style of photographer/viewer and compatibility of the two, etc). For example, my sister takes pictures of windows here in charleston, and people buy them like candy. Why? Who knows, certainly not me. They are pleasing pictures though that vary in color, but have the same structure. They go well together in a series, but of all the photography to buy?

My pictures are less geared to the consumer, but I have also had success selling them (in the same gallery), but our styles are very different. People seem to be most attracted to sharp color, composition, and contrast, and less interested in the subject (those who actually buy them that is). Those who come in looking for a particular building, tree, etc. usually do not buy anything or appreciate the art on display.

I have spent countless hours observing the way people interpret pictures (my own included), and I have noticed that some people are right on when it comes to what I perceive, and others are way off. My family sells our pictures, and we can usually tell what people like and what they wont (regardless of our own taste). I think that says something about the predictability of photographic taste.

There are photographers out there (myself included) who take pictures of what we find beautiful, no matter the subject, and don't care about the reaction of others. I only care what others think when I'm trying to sell them. I think photography is the most unique form of art because anyone can take a picture, but making something completely new out of something that may otherwise go unnoticed is one of my favorite aspects of the art. In some ways it is more challenging to set yourself apart from everyone else with a decent camera, but in other ways it is easier; this is the only form of art that requires a bit of luck at times, and one can make something truly great almost by accident.

I would like to respond to the original author for a moment. I do not disagree with the majority of what you've posted, but I would caution you that you sound slightly pretentious, especially in regard to your avoidance of those with ADD:

"But no! Inevitably, those who cannot bother to read through a bit of writing - especially, alas, on the internet - nevertheless bother to respond. Indeed, it is often precisely the ADD type who tends to insist on responding with his own, always all important, commentary - with all due haste."

Perhaps you do not suffer from ADD and therefore don't fully comprehend the implications of what you've said, but ADD has very little to do with this situation. I couldn't bear to read the same sort of responses that I was forced to study and discuss ad nauseum in my philosophy classes. Your questions may have been answered for you if you had taken the time to read the rather lengthy passages that the great minds of the past wrote about the subject. They pretty much sum it all up, and there is very little dispute that they didn't cover the topic to its death. You may want to refrain from lumping a bunch of people together who are all quite different individuals, and then insulting them by insisting that they aren't worth your time. I too write lengthy responses when I feel compelled to, but I prefer to keep things concise, so as not waste the time of my readers. I think it's wise that you reevaluate your philosophy on whose opinion you consider worthy of your overly lengthy manuscript that seems like you tried to make as pretentious as you possibly could. This was not intended to insult you, but I would understand if you take it that way. I have ADD. I'm on medication for it. More importantly, I am able to sit and read lengthy passages such as yours, but why should I have to?

Well said Nicholette.

I waded through Mr Ataner's initial post, but when he made the unfeeling ADD comment I consigned the whole of his reasoning to the BS bin.

That concise enough for you Mr Ataner?

We've been taken way off course here, and I hesitate to respond to some of what's been said here, lest we turn this

thread into an entirely irrelevant meta-discussion. Nevertheless, since the original line of inquiry seems lost anyway,

here are some admittedly not-so concise remarks:

 

"I have ADD. I'm on medication for it. More importantly, I am able to sit and read lengthy passages such as yours, but

why should I have to?"

 

- You don't have to. It's an absurd question.

 

"I too write lengthy responses when I feel compelled to, but I prefer to keep things concise, so as not waste the time of

my readers."

 

- Not everything can be said concisely. Sometimes we need room to explore thoughts, which are sometimes inchoate. In

forums such as this, the reader is invited (emphasis on INVITED, not compelled) to explore along with the author, in the

hope that, together, some more complete and yes, concise conclusion may be reached. (There is no possible way in

which such an exercise is in any way obligatory: if the first few sentences of a posting seem uninteresting to you, just

move on!)

 

" I was a philosophy major in college. One thing is for sure, people are still debating the same things they were back in

the day of Kant and Descartes ... ... I couldn't bear to read the same sort of responses that I was forced to study and

discuss ad nauseum in my philosophy classes. Your questions may have been answered for you if you had taken the

time to read the rather lengthy passages that the great minds of the past wrote about the subject. They pretty much sum

it all up, and there is very little dispute that they didn't cover the topic to its death."

 

- It's rather unfortunate for you that you were "forced" to study and discuss philosophical questions "ad nauseam". Some

questions are of the kind that each generation raises and discusses them again and again. For example, like, what is the

nature of "truth" or "beauty"? and with respect to photography in particular, is it better suited towards partaking more in

"truth" (as in the documentary style) or "beauty" (as in the fine art mode)? Anyone and everyone is free to breathe new

life into questions of this kind, in their own way. What you toss away as covering a "topic to its death" is actually an

activity - engaging freedom of thought and expression - that many people cherish and consider a privilege. Indeed, in

some places around the world, including places I've lived in, discussing such questions, even where they seem innocent

questions, can be dangerous, as it may lead to imprisonment or worse - and yet people still pursue them.

 

You suggest I should take the time to read the "rather lengthy passages that the great minds of the past wrote about the

subject". Well, as it happens, I too was a philosophy major - but have chosen not to advertise that fact here, nor to drop

philosophical names or jargon, lest I'm subjected to further allegations of "pretentiousness" or elitism or even plagiarism,

and so on. Unlike you, I wasn't forced to study philosophy, but consider myself fortunate to have been given the freedom

to do so, something for which I am very grateful. But just because I've read a great deal on a subject, especially

difficult/interesting subjects such as "philosophy of photography" (the title of this forum, you will recall) doesn't at all

mean I know nearly enough about it. And although I'm now pursuing a career in law, that's why I still take the time to

engage in philosophical inquiry - that's why I come to forums like this, hoping to learn more from other people who find

such questions just as interesting as I happen to.

 

If you consider pursing a line of inquiry such as the one I tried to raise (perhaps badly) with my initial post as tiresome,

as something to be suffered through, why bother at all? Why bother responding in the first place? Given what you've

said, it seems you've pretty much made up your mind - and seem to know what people like and don't like, what people

will and won't buy, etc etc. So, again, why bother with all this at all?

 

"I waded through Mr Ataner's initial post, but when he made the unfeeling ADD comment I consigned the whole of his

reasoning to the BS bin. That concise enough for you Mr Ataner?" "Perhaps you do not suffer from ADD and therefore

don't fully comprehend the implications of what you've said, but ADD has very little to do with this situation"

 

- To ask the same question again: why bother Mr. Todrick? Clearly, you, along with Ms. Creedmore, are unable to

distinguish between a disapproving comment directed at a certain character type from a putative insult against sufferers

of a clinically diagnosable psychiatric illness. If you immediately assume I'm doing the latter, rather than the former, why

bother getting into a forum titled "philosophy of photography", where a certain degree of intellectual generosity is almost

by definition assumed? Why would you immediately assume I was looking to insult sufferers of a clinical condition rather

than castigating impatience with exaggerated reference to "ADD". Have you ever found piece of writing, or even a

photograph, depressing, or said "that's just too depressing"? If so, did you have in mind to insult sufferers of clinical

depression? I assume not - so why would you immediately, automatically, make that kind of move here? And to top it

off, you dismiss the entire thread as "BS" (tactfully edited by the moderator, I assume, since the e-mail notification I

received used the full term, not the cleaned up acronym) on the basis of your own misguided projection. I'm honestly

trying to figure it out, but perhaps I lack the imagination to understand commentary like yours. Really, I can only say:

how utterly absurd!

 

I thank anyone out there who has taken the time to read the original post, to mull things over, to pick at the bits and

pieces that seem of interest and worth contemplating - in the spirit of generosity that this forum (PHILOSOPHY OF

PHOTOGRAPHY) implies, indeed necessitates. However, posting here was/is a mistake, in my view, now - I think I'd

rather stay away. Some people are just plainly and unbelievably nasty out here, which in turn brings out the worst,

combative and negative spirit, in me - so I'd better stay silent.

 

Goodbye!

PS - I recommend googling the phrases "myopic approach" or "schizophrenic policy", among many possible others - if we

are to judge by the frequency of use of such turns of phrase and/or metaphors, it would appear there's an inordinate amount

of inappropriate animosity out there towards unfortunate, clinically diagnosed suffers of near-sightedness or schizophrenia,

at least according to the logic of the previous two contributors to this thread. Nor should anything written by authors who

use such terms be worth reading. There you have it!