why photos?

why did you decide on photography over other art mediums that over

more independence in creativity? or more generally, what appeals to

you about photography in preference to other mediums?

One good reason for me is that the act of photography ; being there in the moment, can

be so real that it becomes surreal, and to make a point in finding a balance or

border between the two is a great driving force.

What about those that did not "decide" on ph...? I never "decided". I just did it.

 

Who of us would agree with your statement that other media offer more independence in creativity than photography. I would not second that opinion, either.

 

Why do we have to prefer photography over other media? I do not, sorry.

 

I am afraid your questions are too front-loaded to have any relevant answers. At least for me.

 

What do you really want to learn, find out, know, china kat?

Why not photography? It's not like it's the only medium. I paint, I play music, and I also make pictures. It's just another creative outlet.

I like black and white photography because of its abstractness,

yet because of the medium it works well to explore reality,

sometimes a reality that is quite personal. Many people are

visually literate today which makes communication a little easier.

What Frank said.

 

And, flippantly, photography is great because you can make a picture in 1/250 of a second, rather than twelve hundred hours of drawing drawing drawing, painting painting painting.

 

It's a lot easier to get things to sit still for 1/250 of a second.

 

 

Rdp

My first love was music, classical music: violin, voice and piano. Looking back, I think the

appeal was that they playing those instruments was very physical. There was a direct

connection between the feelings in the body and the sound that was made.

 

But somehow, at the conservatory during my college years, music dried up on me. I'm not

sure why. Maybe it was because I had just gotten married and didn't have too many

realistic prospects in music.

 

And photography appeared like magic in front of me. I purchased an Argus C3 at a garage

sale along with some outdated tri-x. After I got the jumbo prints back from the drugstore,

I was pretty well hooked. Then I got some trays and chemicals and an enlarger and set

them up in the bathroom, and I was totally in love with what I was doing.

 

Again, it was the physical connection. I liked the motion of burning in the hot areas on the

print, or pouring a little hot water into one corner of the dektol tray to encourage

development in a certain area, or blowing on the prints.

 

It wasn't as physical as music. It wasn't like the physical sensations you feel in your arms

and wrist when you draw a tone from the violin--and then add the vibrato--lemme tell

you, that's a kick. No, it wasn't like that, but it was pretty close. Maybe if I had tried

painting, I would have found the same kind of highs that music offered.

 

And so much of photography was physical. Simply carrying things, or adjusting the

furniture in a room, or dealing with the lights, all in response to some ephemeral artistic

muse going on in my head.

 

And besides that, there was a more realistic possibility of making a living in

photography than in music. So I spent thirty-five years of my life--so far--in being a

professional photographer.

 

And then the digital revolution hit, and it was like being back in the music conservatory--

my drive and my enthusiasm dried up. Oh, I'm comfortable enough with digital to remain a

professional, semi-retired photographer. But the edge is gone. Maybe it's just my age,

maybe I'm just tired. But I don't think so.

 

Let me go back to music to explain. If you can imagine playing the violin as opposed to

playing the pipe organ: the violin is immediate. The bow strokes the strings six inches in

front of your face. The sound emanates from about the same distance. You can see your

left hand fingers touch the strings only a foot and a half or so away. You can feel the

tension in your arms, fingers and wrist. Your body responds to your musical muse, and

your muse to your body. It's a wonderful, immediate sensation.

 

Now consider playing the pipe organ: eventhough your fingers come in contact with the

keys, they are very distant from the workings of the instrument, sometime fifty feet away,

or even more. Then you press down on the keys, and for a short while, nothing happens.

There is a delay of a fraction of a second, before any sound emanates from fifty feet away.

And as you continue to play, you realize that no matter what your body is feeling about

the music, there is no satisfying way of getting the music to respond to your body. If you

think ahead intellectually, you can pull out certain stops. And so--and this is the point I'm

making--you can get the pipe organ to respond to your intellectual muse, but not to your

physical muse.

 

Having had a few lessons on the pipe organ, I can tell you that it just doesn't make it for

me.

 

Now, getting back to photography and the digital revolution: working on my pictures on a

computer, waiting through the delay of an electronic process I understand less well than I

understand the workings of a pipe organ, and then, with a touch of a few buttons, sending

the file off five miles away across town to have somebody I don't know make the print, is

very akin to playing the organ. It's too distant. It's too intellectual. It doesn't feel physical.

It drys me up.

 

And in my semi-retirement, with a lot of time on my hands, I find myself drawn back to

music as a more satisfying creative endeavor.

 

To sum up: Music was my first choice, and I loved it because playing certain instruments

seemed to join my mental muse with my physical muse in a way that satisfied.

Photography was a second choice, because there were some aspects of it that felt like

playing certain instruments. Photography became less satisfying to me as is lost some of

those qualities due to the digital revolution.

 

OK. I've spent some time writing this. I've taken your question seriously--not everyone

did--and now I hope we can get some discussion going.

 

Best

Tom

My first love was music, classical music: violin, voice and piano. Looking back, I think the

appeal was that they playing those instruments was very physical. There was a direct

connection between the feelings in the body and the sound that was made.

 

But somehow, at the conservatory during my college years, music dried up on me. I'm not

sure why. Maybe it was because I had just gotten married and didn't have too many

realistic prospects in music.

 

And photography appeared like magic in front of me. I purchased an Argus C3 at a garage

sale along with some outdated tri-x. After I got the jumbo prints back from the drugstore,

I was pretty well hooked. Then I got some trays and chemicals and an enlarger and set

them up in the bathroom, and I was totally in love with what I was doing.

 

Again, it was the physical connection. I liked the motion of burning in the hot areas on the

print, or pouring a little hot water into one corner of the dektol tray to encourage

development in a certain area, or blowing on the prints.

 

It wasn't as physical as music. It wasn't like the physical sensations you feel in your arms

and wrist when you draw a tone from the violin--and then add the vibrato--lemme tell

you, that's a kick. No, it wasn't like that, but it was pretty close. Maybe if I had tried

painting, I would have found the same kind of highs that music offered.

 

And so much of photography was physical. Simply carrying things, or adjusting the

furniture in a room, or dealing with the lights, all in response to some ephemeral artistic

muse going on in my head.

 

And besides that, there was a more realistic possibility of making a living in

photography than in music. So I spent thirty-five years of my life--so far--in being a

professional photographer.

 

And then the digital revolution hit, and it was like being back in the music conservatory--

my drive and my enthusiasm dried up. Oh, I'm comfortable enough with digital to remain a

professional, semi-retired photographer. But the edge is gone. Maybe it's just my age,

maybe I'm just tired. But I don't think so.

 

Let me go back to music to explain. If you can imagine playing the violin as opposed to

playing the pipe organ: the violin is immediate. The bow strokes the strings six inches in

front of your face. The sound emanates from about the same distance. You can see your

left hand fingers touch the strings only a foot and a half or so away. You can feel the

tension in your arms, fingers and wrist. Your body responds to your musical muse, and

your muse to your body. It's a wonderful, immediate sensation.

 

Now consider playing the pipe organ: eventhough your fingers come in contact with the

keys, they are very distant from the workings of the instrument, sometime fifty feet away,

or even more. Then you press down on the keys, and for a short while, nothing happens.

There is a delay of a fraction of a second, before any sound emanates from fifty feet away.

And as you continue to play, you realize that no matter what your body is feeling about

the music, there is no satisfying way of getting the music to respond to your body. If you

think ahead intellectually, you can pull out certain stops. And so--and this is the point I'm

making--you can get the pipe organ to respond to your intellectual muse, but not to your

physical muse.

 

Having had a few lessons on the pipe organ, I can tell you that it just doesn't make it for

me.

 

Now, getting back to photography and the digital revolution: working on my pictures on a

computer, waiting through the delay of an electronic process I understand less well than I

understand the workings of a pipe organ, and then, with a touch of a few buttons, sending

the file off five miles away across town to have somebody I don't know make the print, is

very akin to playing the organ. It's too distant. It's too intellectual. It doesn't feel physical.

It drys me up.

 

And in my semi-retirement, with a lot of time on my hands, I find myself drawn back to

music as a more satisfying creative endeavor.

 

To sum up: Music was my first choice, and I loved it because playing certain instruments

seemed to join my mental muse with my physical muse in a way that satisfied.

Photography was a second choice, because there were some aspects of it that felt like

playing certain instruments. Photography became less satisfying to me as is lost some of

those qualities due to the digital revolution.

 

OK. I've spent some time writing this. I've taken your question seriously--not everyone

did--and now I hope we can get some discussion going.

 

Best

Tom

My first love was music, classical music: violin, voice and piano. Looking back, I think the

appeal was that they playing those instruments was very physical. There was a direct

connection between the feelings in the body and the sound that was made.

 

But somehow, at the conservatory during my college years, music dried up on me. I'm not

sure why. Maybe it was because I had just gotten married and didn't have too many

realistic prospects in music.

 

And photography appeared like magic in front of me. I purchased an Argus C3 at a garage

sale along with some outdated tri-x. After I got the jumbo prints back from the drugstore,

I was pretty well hooked. Then I got some trays and chemicals and an enlarger and set

them up in the bathroom, and I was totally in love with what I was doing.

 

Again, it was the physical connection. I liked the motion of burning in the hot areas on the

print, or pouring a little hot water into one corner of the dektol tray to encourage

development in a certain area, or blowing on the prints.

 

It wasn't as physical as music. It wasn't like the physical sensations you feel in your arms

and wrist when you draw a tone from the violin--and then add the vibrato--lemme tell

you, that's a kick. No, it wasn't like that, but it was pretty close. Maybe if I had tried

painting, I would have found the same kind of highs that music offered.

 

And so much of photography was physical. Simply carrying things, or adjusting the

furniture in a room, or dealing with the lights, all in response to some ephemeral artistic

muse going on in my head.

 

And besides that, there was a more realistic possibility of making a living in

photography than in music. So I spent thirty-five years of my life--so far--in being a

professional photographer.

 

And then the digital revolution hit, and it was like being back in the music conservatory--

my drive and my enthusiasm dried up. Oh, I'm comfortable enough with digital to remain a

professional, semi-retired photographer. But the edge is gone. Maybe it's just my age,

maybe I'm just tired. But I don't think so.

 

Let me go back to music to explain. If you can imagine playing the violin as opposed to

playing the pipe organ: the violin is immediate. The bow strokes the strings six inches in

front of your face. The sound emanates from about the same distance. You can see your

left hand fingers touch the strings only a foot and a half or so away. You can feel the

tension in your arms, fingers and wrist. Your body responds to your musical muse, and

your muse to your body. It's a wonderful, immediate sensation.

 

Now consider playing the pipe organ: eventhough your fingers come in contact with the

keys, they are very distant from the workings of the instrument, sometime fifty feet away,

or even more. Then you press down on the keys, and for a short while, nothing happens.

There is a delay of a fraction of a second, before any sound emanates from fifty feet away.

And as you continue to play, you realize that no matter what your body is feeling about

the music, there is no satisfying way of getting the music to respond to your body. If you

think ahead intellectually, you can pull out certain stops. And so--and this is the point I'm

making--you can get the pipe organ to respond to your intellectual muse, but not to your

physical muse.

 

Having had a few lessons on the pipe organ, I can tell you that it just doesn't make it for

me.

 

Now, getting back to photography and the digital revolution: working on my pictures on a

computer, waiting through the delay of an electronic process I understand less well than I

understand the workings of a pipe organ, and then, with a touch of a few buttons, sending

the file off five miles away across town to have somebody I don't know make the print, is

very akin to playing the organ. It's too distant. It's too intellectual. It doesn't feel physical.

It drys me up.

 

And in my semi-retirement, with a lot of time on my hands, I find myself drawn back to

music as a more satisfying creative endeavor.

 

To sum up: Music was my first choice, and I loved it because playing certain instruments

seemed to join my mental muse with my physical muse in a way that satisfied.

Photography was a second choice, because there were some aspects of it that felt like

playing certain instruments. Photography became less satisfying to me as is lost some of

those qualities due to the digital revolution.

 

OK. I've spent some time writing this. I've taken your question seriously--not everyone

did--and now I hope we can get some discussion going.

 

Best

Tom

My first love was music, classical music: violin, voice and piano. Looking back, I think the

appeal was that they playing those instruments was very physical. There was a direct

connection between the feelings in the body and the sound that was made.

 

But somehow, at the conservatory during my college years, music dried up on me. I'm not

sure why. Maybe it was because I had just gotten married and didn't have too many

realistic prospects in music.

 

And photography appeared like magic in front of me. I purchased an Argus C3 at a garage

sale along with some outdated tri-x. After I got the jumbo prints back from the drugstore,

I was pretty well hooked. Then I got some trays and chemicals and an enlarger and set

them up in the bathroom, and I was totally in love with what I was doing.

 

Again, it was the physical connection. I liked the motion of burning in the hot areas on the

print, or pouring a little hot water into one corner of the dektol tray to encourage

development in a certain area, or blowing on the prints.

 

It wasn't as physical as music. It wasn't like the physical sensations you feel in your arms

and wrist when you draw a tone from the violin--and then add the vibrato--lemme tell

you, that's a kick. No, it wasn't like that, but it was pretty close. Maybe if I had tried

painting, I would have found the same kind of highs that music offered.

 

And so much of photography was physical. Simply carrying things, or adjusting the

furniture in a room, or dealing with the lights, all in response to some ephemeral artistic

muse going on in my head.

 

And besides that, there was a more realistic possibility of making a living in

photography than in music. So I spent thirty-five years of my life--so far--in being a

professional photographer.

 

And then the digital revolution hit, and it was like being back in the music conservatory--

my drive and my enthusiasm dried up. Oh, I'm comfortable enough with digital to remain a

professional, semi-retired photographer. But the edge is gone. Maybe it's just my age,

maybe I'm just tired. But I don't think so.

 

Let me go back to music to explain. If you can imagine playing the violin as opposed to

playing the pipe organ: the violin is immediate. The bow strokes the strings six inches in

front of your face. The sound emanates from about the same distance. You can see your

left hand fingers touch the strings only a foot and a half or so away. You can feel the

tension in your arms, fingers and wrist. Your body responds to your musical muse, and

your muse to your body. It's a wonderful, immediate sensation.

 

Now consider playing the pipe organ: eventhough your fingers come in contact with the

keys, they are very distant from the workings of the instrument, sometime fifty feet away,

or even more. Then you press down on the keys, and for a short while, nothing happens.

There is a delay of a fraction of a second, before any sound emanates from fifty feet away.

And as you continue to play, you realize that no matter what your body is feeling about

the music, there is no satisfying way of getting the music to respond to your body. If you

think ahead intellectually, you can pull out certain stops. And so--and this is the point I'm

making--you can get the pipe organ to respond to your intellectual muse, but not to your

physical muse.

 

Having had a few lessons on the pipe organ, I can tell you that it just doesn't make it for

me.

 

Now, getting back to photography and the digital revolution: working on my pictures on a

computer, waiting through the delay of an electronic process I understand less well than I

understand the workings of a pipe organ, and then, with a touch of a few buttons, sending

the file off five miles away across town to have somebody I don't know make the print, is

very akin to playing the organ. It's too distant. It's too intellectual. It doesn't feel physical.

It drys me up.

 

And in my semi-retirement, with a lot of time on my hands, I find myself drawn back to

music as a more satisfying creative endeavor.

 

To sum up: Music was my first choice, and I loved it because playing certain instruments

seemed to join my mental muse with my physical muse in a way that satisfied.

Photography was a second choice, because there were some aspects of it that felt like

playing certain instruments. Photography became less satisfying to me as is lost some of

those qualities due to the digital revolution.

 

OK. I've spent some time writing this. I've taken your question seriously--not everyone

did--and now I hope we can get some discussion going.

 

Best

Tom

Geez! I'm sorry. I dunno how that happened. Tom

i'm not trying to offend anyone, i'm justing asking what appeals to you about photography, and why you devote your time to it. no need to get defensive, i to enjoy photography. onre of the reasons i like it is, it is easier to make a good photograph than a good painting/sculpture/musical number. also, there is something about it, almost magical, i can't put my finger on it and thought maybe someone else had.

"it is easier to make a good photograph than a good painting/sculpture/musical number"

 

depends on your definition of a "good photograph". I think it's easier to make a bad photograph or a snapshot than a bad painting. "good" or great photographs take as much vision.

"...photography over other art mediums that over more independence in creativity"

 

I believe that photography offers just as much independence in creativity as any other art medium. Actually, I think the only limit to creativity is one's own mind. The medium has nothing to do with it.

.....because I can't draw a straight line.....

 

More seriously, I think photography takes years to master just as any other medium. But the learning curve to get to the point of doing an acceptable work is shorter. Most people can get a photo "right" every once in a while, and when you capture such an image it is a pretty good feeling.

 

I do not believe other media offer any more independence than photography, particularly these days with the ability to manipulate an image to more precisely reflect one's "vision."

 

And to be honest I have never had a particular interest in learning anything else...I have always been drawn to the camera's ability to capture that instant in time........

My first and principle interest was to document the gradual decline of my former home-town, an old industrial town, as its coal-mines, railways, brickyards and foundries disappeared. Subsequently I became interested in the other facets of photography as an expressive medium.

Because of its beatiful fake sensation of reality.

Tom, your insights struck a very responsive chord with me, though our paths have diverged a bit. As a kid, my mother was a trained artist and musician who tried to instill in me her love of painting and the piano. Though I obediently tried, and tried, my young hands just couldn't produce anything on canvas or keyboard that gave either of us any sense of fulfillment. However, left to my own devices, I was soon enchanted by the magic of developing film and contact prints in soup bowls on the floor of a darkened closet. That was over sixty years ago, and that sense of control that I first experienced in those early days hasn't diminished. Today, my tools are different; the computer, Photoshop and a fine printer have replaced the soup bowls and safelight. But, because I don't send my work to some faceless technician for completion, there's still the same exhiliration and sense of involvement I felt in the "good olde days." True, there's not the physical component of noxious fumes and cramped quarters, but the essential aspect of being able to express myself artistically with the best tools for my set of skills is still there.

 

I can also relate to your experience with a pipe organ, but from a different perspective. For me, the physical sensation of being in the midst of all that lovely vibration was one I was never able to recapture in later years when I bought a small spinet organ for my home. Apart from the lesser quality of the sound, the physicality of being a part of the music just wasn't there for me.

 

With advancing years, arthritis has kept me from the keyboard, but as long as I can still squeeze a shutter release I think the ghosts of those long hours in the darkroom will be by my side as I juggle pixels and tweak the digits.

 

What appeals to me about photography over other art forms? In a nutshell, control. The camera is a brush I've learned to use. It's fast, dependable and doesn't drip paint on the rug. When I find some beauty along the way that I want to share with others, I can quickly capture it and bring it home without spending hours or days in the process. I've never felt it to be a medium that put a cap on my creativity because, quite frankly, I'm not a very creative artist. Because I still shoot film, it's not exactly instant gratification, but it's a lot closer than any other form of art. I've tried oil painting, drawing and ceramics, but never found in them the gratification of controlling the outcome I enjoy in photography.

Originaly painter and around drawings for some time.

Qualities of photograhy that other media like painting, digital imaging, sculpture,... do not have keep me in. Thruthfulness, extreme exactness, tone graduation, blur, and grain from film structure.

Curiosity as a child and no need to explore otherwise.

"it is easier to make a good photograph than a good painting/sculpture/musical number"

 

Lets see it. If among thousands deers only 3 are healthy what is whole population. So above is true, CLOSE to 100%.

My dad took a lot of slide photographs during our vacations all over USA in the 1960s. His slide shoes in our living room was excellent entertainment. <p>I loved the smell of film and the cheap 120 film-based cameras then that I had. It was a lot of fun and I instantly gravited to "special effects" photography and movie making in my high school years while also working for the school newspaper and yearbook staff supplying them with a few photos, now using 35mm SLR. <p>It was all natural wheras playing music was difficult and I had no real talent drawing or painting. Photography was a method where I could instantly document everything around me especially since no one near me was any good at this *Documentation Role* which I viewed as prime importance. One thing follows another...

Because I can't draw a stick figure and people throw things at me when I sing.

Ken -

 

yeah my dad did slide shows too - I guess that got me interested. I yearned for his OLYMPUS TRIP (as my dad had it and I was ten it was obviously the best camera on the planet).

 

So I bought it off him aged 12.

 

Then a neighbour got a flashy pentax and I started yearning for an OM-10 because some other adult had one and I remember thinking the brochure was cool (it had motorcycle helmets on it I think).

 

I eventually got a Canon AE-1 for christmas, around age 15 ? Since then, yep - love those film cannisters and the smell of it and the feel of it and the CLICK sounds that happen.

 

The more I played the better my pictures got and the more comfortable I was with a camera. So now it just seems part of me to take photographs.

 

Robert

Photography is for those who have no real talent to do anything else. It is a field filled with losers and malcontents, most of whom suffer to some degree from attention deficit disorder. Please don't misunderstand me, these are the very reasons I love photography. Painters, writers, quilters, actors, singers and sculptures (fields that actually take some talent) seem so bourgeois in this day and age of instant gratification.