Pictures as occasions.

<p> <br>

Argentine author Jorge Luis Borges said that every book is a specific and particular <em>dialogue</em>. The dialog of the reader and the book is in every way an <em>authentic </em>version of the book. How readers <em>know</em> the book need not agree with the author. <br>

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The same could be said for pictures. Are there psychological or symbolic <em>attractors </em>that allow the viewer to leave or question your intentions and see your pictures in a more personal way? Do you actively make pictures that draw the viewer out? <br>

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Illustrations are pictures without, or at least fewer, unresolved issues. What they are <em>about</em> is explicitly stated. I make that distinction in my work between pictures that decorate or illustrate in a satisfying way and the rest I make to arouse. <br>

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The picture is from a series of "first frames". The viewer is invited to write the script.<br /><br>

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“ Every photo is the <em>first frame of a movie</em>. — <em>Wim Wenders</em>.”</p>

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<p>We tend to see more in our photos than viewers see.</p>

<p>I think one thing that can draw the viewer out and stimulate a viewer's imagination to wander is negative space. You've used it in your picture above and it plays a role in mine below as well. It literally and figuratively provides perceptual and emotional breadth and range. It often provides a sense of abandon, which can be a real key, I think, to what you're talking about.</p>

<p><img src="http://d6d2h4gfvy8t8.cloudfront.net/9825555-md.jpg" alt="" width="679" height="418" /></p>

<p>______________________________________________________________________</p>

<p>Dialogue, yes. Two or more monologues, no. By that I mean that, though the book may not need to <em>agree</em> with the author, there will be some kind of connection, be it empathy, understanding, or communication of some sort. Those involved in a dialogue can certainly disagree but they pretty much have to use a common language and will most likely agree on at least some of the parameters and terms of the discussion.</p>

<p>I'm not fond of thinking of art viewing as something purely subjective, something up to the viewer or reader to do with what he wishes anymore than I'm fond of people in conversations who I sense aren't listening or caring about what the other person is saying. That's why a dialogue isn't really like two monologues. The photographer "owes" it to his viewers to let the work go once he shares it, and viewers "owe" it to the photographer to allow the photographer's work (and through that work, the photographer) to play a role and have a say.</p>

<p>Some sort of delicate balance is achieved (a very different type and degree of balance in all different kinds of photos and viewings of photos) among photo, photographer, and viewer. (And history and culture play an important role in this dialogue as well). Some photos beg the viewer to fill in their own blanks. That begging comes from the photograph and the photographer. Some ask the viewer for more connection and empathy and less subjectivity. It all depends.</p>

<p>I like that you said "draw the viewer out." Because when we personalize another's photo or artwork, which is a great thing to do, we often think of bringing it inside and doing whatever we want with it. But I think viewing photos in particular (especially because they result from a camera which has been pointed at the world) has the power to get us (as viewers and as photographers) outside of ourselves. That's where the sharing that is art, I believe, comes in. </p>

<p>I meant to include that subjects also have a say in this dialogue!</p>

<p>One further thought . . . while I do think your photo above invites the viewer to supply a narrative, many photos that stimulate my imagination don't necessarily cause my own script or narrative. In many cases, I react more viscerally.</p>

<p>Well, maybe two . . . I've actually seen viewers led quite far astray (IMO) by supplying even some of the most fanciful and creative scripts to photos that simply didn't need or warrant them. It can be an exercise of the intellect that can, at times, distract.</p>

<p>Reading this post I feel that I need to tell a story and show a picture.<br /><br />The big fun for me with photograph is to suggest a meaning that was not there on the street or event scene. Is the same for me with digital photos as it was with film 40 years ago. I rarely modify elements of the image (may say never) with Photoshop or something, but I change a lot the light with plugins to achieve what my imagination sees on a image.<br /><br />May be because my first language is Portuguese and the term used to "develop a photograph" is "revelar uma fotografia". The word revelar in Portuguese has many more meanings and one of then is to reveal, used also when you tell a secret, you reveal a secret. I stick with this idea, unless I'm photographing a product.<br /><br />I give a example, the real situation was a small art show where a guy got there with a dog, met a old friend and they where very happy to see each other again, she was laughing about something and the dog looking at me. The light was really poor, I saw the scene and got only one shot because people was walking around, I had one second to shoot.<br>

<br />I have a lot of fun with what people say about this picture. <br /><br /></p><div></div>

<p>Adriano, knowing the story from you I can see why you would have fun with what people say about that picture. I see pictured a serious moment when in reality it was joyful. And if you titled the photo "Mirth" you would be thought of as ironical when you were actually honestly describing a scene of mirth. Then again, when we meet an old friend there is a flood overwhelming feeling both warm and sometimes sad. So my script goes...</p>

<p>Also as to develop, revelar: I like the associated meanings you gave.</p>

<p>I also like the word represent, but written thusly: re-present as in a photograph is a re-presentation. Our minds eye perceives and forms a presentation. Then the photographer with a camera forms a re-presentation of what a photographer perceived. </p>

<p> </p>

<p><em>Dialogue</em> is pretty much the best word I can think of. I wouldn't say viewers see less than we tend to see - maybe different things, maybe more, maybe less. A dialogue can be straightforward, simple: an exchange of information. It can have twists and turns, it can be that half a word tells enough, it can be that you have to expand a lot. It can be that you just want to tease the other and give them so fragments of a clue. Or you spell it out. Whatever you try, what follows is a sort of dialogue. Not a monologue, it's action-reaction.<br>

Most photos are an invite, an opening statement which may be open-ended, or really a statement. I like to think ahead on how people may react, what they might think of. I genuinely try, though ever so often I just get lost shooting whatever comes to my mind.<br>

And then I put up a photo here, and you get a completely unexpected reaction, exactly not what I thought up front. Dialogue develops, and I grow a bit wiser. Well, most of the time. And hopefully the other too.</p>

<p>Phil, I think making and looking at photos is a conversation with myself but, for me, it's not mostly that. It kind of varies depending on the photo and the project I'm making and depending on the photographer I'm looking at when I'm the viewer. Often, it is a dialogue for me with my subject(s) and I do (at various times) consider it a dialogue with my viewer. You mentioned that abstract viewer, who is important to me. As I've said, I'm in this to share, often to get out of myself. While my own self-expression is a crucial aspect of all this, it doesn't eclipse my desire to communicate with or share that expression with others, even in as loose a context as pictures compared to words.</p>

<p>For me, meaning is not the most significant aspect though, again, it's certainly part of the picture. If I were going to boil it down, I'd focus on impression/expression in terms of what I get from the world and then what I'm hoping to give. The aspects of expression I'm most taken with are as an indication of feeling, spirit, and character. So, perhaps as important as meaning is the intonation, the voice used to convey the contours of those impressions.</p>

<p>I meant to include that I love your last sentence: <em>"A good photograph has a silence to it."</em> I would say, so does a good dialogue. At the theater or in a musical piece, pregnant pauses are filled with meaning and expression. But I suspect you mean even more than that, a kind of overall silence where the voices stop. Not just the pause before the Mozart cadenza but the silence of John Cage. Not just an actor's long hesitation before completing a spoken thought but all that's not being said that plays such a crucial role. A great description.</p>

<p>Phil, good point - it is also that. The act of making a photo (from thinking up front, the actual shooting, processing afterwards) is all quite introspective. But after that, I might release it out there for others to see. From there on, it is a dialogue. Even if the photograph has silence to it (nicely put indeed). But dialogues can happen in total silence too - it's about the exchange, rather than the method used to exchange those thoughts.</p>

<p>I would be surprised if the act of making a photo wasn't something different for each of us.</p>

<p>I photograph the things that stimulate me for some reason such as: aesthetics, intrigue, geometry, etc. Once I “put it out there” I have realized that every other person who looks at an image of mine will have a unique experience and interpretation. There are universals, of course, such as sunsets, and other pictorially pretty scenes, as well as craggy, worn and textured faces, babies, certain nudes, etc. I believe these hit on built in archetypes that are just common to the human experience. So, the dialog between photo and observer is there, and unique, but also plays on the archetypal themes built into our collective memories.</p>

<p>Alan, I can agree with "draw the viewer out" but I strongly disagree with "The viewer is invited to write the script." For me, a strong image, a powerful photograph, is one that <em>denies</em> my own proposed narratives, my own formulas, that refuses my chatter and personal noise, that makes me shut-up and listen to <em>it</em>.</p>

<p>That displacement, that full-stop, that <em>oh!</em> that happens when/because it won't <em>fit</em>, won't play, won't cooperate with my efforts to <em>use</em> it (and also, thereby, to <em>leave</em> it) are what, for me, make a really good picture.</p>

<p>However, however ... (LOL) my effort to do so, my struggle to narrative-ize, my natural urge to digest the picture into my own story is not only my normal visual reflex, it's a necessary discovery of what a good photograph 'wants' to happen to me. As Blanchot says of poetry, it's "necessary in order to be refuted." In other words, the face-bump refusal of the picture to 'take' my narrative/explanation is just where it shows its teeth. For me, good pictures are strange.</p>

<p>Coming from a common Latin language base as does Portugese, The French call the developing agent, a "revelateur". To reveal what is hidden in the latent silver image not yet "developed" to final visible silver image.</p>

<p>So the occasion a picture can present before a viewer is sometimes to reveal a secret, and sometimes what is not shown in light or dark areas can help in that sense, but also the contrary, in maintaining the secret. </p>

<p>Did Atget regard himself as a master of the realm of dreams? Or did he regard himself solely as a master of chronicling a city? "I make documents" is what Atget said. Shall I believe him? Maybe I don't believe Atget:</p>

<p><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Eug%C3%A8ne_Atget_Coin_rue_de_Seine_2.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Eug%C3%A8ne_Atget_Coin_rue_de_Seine_2.jpg</a></p>

<p>I don't see that photo as uncompromisingly descriptive. Instead it's kind of freaky. </p>

<p>Phil S., your frame is very Ralph Gibson-ish.</p>

<p><a name="00dbzV"></a><a href="/photodb/user?user_id=8755118">Phil S.</a> <a href="/member-status-icons"><img title="Frequent poster" src="/v3graphics/member-status-icons/1roll.gif" alt="" /></a>, Dec 01, 2015; 07:10 p.m.</p>

<p>I like it.</p>

<p>Can you explain why you put it in a frame and why you took this photo? ...what do you feel the photo is communicating...as the photographer. Who were your influences? Is this photo purely from your own imagination or are you projecting, in your own style, another photography's vision and adding it to your own?</p>

<p>Regardless, I like it as it works on a imaginative level and with a mystery of imagination. Do you think it stands alone? or does it need a context of art history and your narrative to give insight? Will this additional information help me to appreciates your photograph and artistically move me to a superior deeper understanding?</p>

<p>Good photos on this thread which has sparked my interest in this discussion. Nice to see some photos which illustrate folks thoughts.</p>

<p>"Do you actively make pictures that draw the viewer out? "<br>

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I think you take pictures because you have a inbuilt desire to express your Art.....the Art projects humanity forward on a journey of discovery. All advances of humanity under any guise or name is about the journey of discovery.<br>

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Call it the Art of Humanity because that is what it is.<br /></p>

 

<p>Atget was a failed actor. A <em>failed</em>, rejected-by-the-stage actor. How do you think that might have affected his vision, his feelings (longings?) when he was under the dark cloth, looking at the stage of the ground glass?</p>

 

<p>Ohhhhh ... I really don't care for either Crewdson or Sugimoto. They both seem to me to be incredibly obvious -- like really bad poetry. They aggressively drain all the air, all the wiggle room, out of their pictures. To me, any of the pictures posted in this thread have more subtlety than those two.</p>

<p>[Apologies to anybody who loves Crewdson and/or Sugimoto.]</p>

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<p>Well, everything looks obvious and like bad poetry when compared to Atget's seemingly innocent piercing visions.</p>

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<p>Hmmm ... I'll have to see if I can challenge that.</p>

<p>Off the top of my head, Sudek sometimes does Atget better than Atget. [it seems to me Fred wanted to talk about Sudek. I can't remember where he said that ... ]</p>

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<p>Alan asked: "Are there psychological or symbolic <em>attractors </em>that allow the viewer to leave or question your intentions and see your pictures in a more personal way? Do you actively make pictures that draw the viewer out?"</p>

</blockquote>

<p>What's amazed me in rediscovering Sudek's work having recently found a new book in a gallery I was attending is how his cityscapes and his still lifes relate to his solitariness and introspection. I don't know that Sudek would ever say he actively did anything to draw the viewer out but it's fascinating how a photographer's expression of loneliness or at least aloneness can draw a viewer out or at least reach a viewer. Whether this is self conscious I'm not so sure. It may be more self fulfilling or self actualizing or what I would call self-expression. <br>

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Sudek's studio sill lifes can be compared and contrasted to those of Kertesz. Where Kertesz's still lifes in front of his studio window allowed the outside world to play with the inside world and seemed to hunger after that relationship, Sudek's windows are often rain-soaked or misted over, obscuring the outside and using it as more of an abstraction and conveyer of light and atmosphere rather than adding specific elements to the scene. This is a signal to his isolation and draws me near.</p>

<p>I'm not sure about 'aloneness' as quite the right word. For some reason, 'child-like' keeps coming to mind. Not quite innocent, but with an uninhibited or liberated willingness to believe in some kind of shadowy-ness.</p>

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<p>Atget was both primitive and modernist.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>That's a great summation. I hadn't thought of him that way. As you well know, though, what you see was "curated" (selected/printed) by Abbott and Evans, so you're getting a 'polished apple.'</p>

<p>While I don't think it's possible anybody to get back to the 'primitive' innocence that Atget enjoyed (photography is way too omnipresent), I think modern equivalents of un-phoniness are present in such diverse forms as, for example, Friedlander and Anders Petersen. (Note that this doesn't mean I don't like a deliberate or conceptual or whatever other more self-conscious or enjoyably deliberate kind of work.)</p>