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<p>I have so many ideas, I apologize in advance for the jumble that is going to follow (and thank you to everybody for contributing to this; I absolutely love this kind unwinding).</p>

<p>Following mostly from Luis's start and Fred's follow-ups, about what Luis gets from Fred's pictures that seems not to have been (directly) what Fred intended, I would suggest the following. I'll number it to try and make it seem more orderly:</p>

<p>1. Borrowing Phylo's translation example (I too find the "Polish" play almost irresistible) I am reminded of how difficult translation is -- because the meaning is not *in* the words of a given language. It's not in the nouns, the verbs, the adjectives, etc. The meaning is between the words. To do a good translation is to convey the rhythm, the flow, the sound plays, the delicate nuances of meaning, and so forth. The meaning is between the words but, even more importantly, it's what emerges out of the whole (sound, rhythm, nuances, voice, duration). This does not mean that, if we try really hard, we can make the nouns, verbs and so forth somehow themselves "get" that in-between place where the meaning arrives; it means that that in-between IS NOT AVAILABLE to language -- by definition. By definition. The in-between is not, has never been, and never will be divisable into units. We can "find" it by using our discrete, divisible noun/verb, object/subject manifestations, but this in-between whole is not and never will be directly found.</p>

<p>2. The point of art is to (what's a safe word in this forum?) ... "find" that in-between. To that end, good music will make the instruments, its instruments, disappear, leaving only the music. Good pictures will make the objects and subjects disappear, leaving only the visual music. A good dancer disappears leaving only the dance. And yet, clearly, it is necessary that we (and we do) hear the instruments, see the picture's subject/objects, see the dancer -- but the in-between, the music appears, surfaces, becomes (more) there/here, is apparent, like a ghost become (more) visible. It doesn't deny the instrument, it is of/from the instrument (geez, I hope you're getting this because I'm running out of descriptions).</p>

<p>3a. To polish badly seems to me to take two forms. Firstly, the polisher can mistake the instruments for the music. Or if he's doing a translation, he tries to find the most literal word-for-word conversion without hearing the rhythm, the nuances, the sound, the whole of the flow of the (other) language. He works with the words and ignores in-between wherein lies the meaning. Or, back to music, it's as if every instrument in the orchestra plays as if it's a solo. Net result is a big mess. The perfect parts add up to a damaged/useless whole. Or, further, simpler musical analogy -- it's as if one polished each note without any regard to the silences, the spacing between the notes.</p>

<p>3b. Second sort of bad polishing, and I think this is what I sense in the Steichen picture; where the artist tries to put his hands on the in-between rather than deal with it via the proxy of his content. By this I mean that he/she tries to control it in the same way he controls nouns and verbs. He tries to close the circle; to force the in-between to stop just here, just so. In so doing, he's not only closing the circle of the content, he's trying to close the circle of the viewer. I don't think this ever works. I think it gets an empty vessel and/or a pissed of viewer (me!). The parts are much greater than the whole. It reminds me of the fable of the goose that laid the golden eggs; the greedy people who killed the goose, thinking it must be full of golden eggs -- and found only goose innards.</p>

<p>4. Circling back to Fred and Luis's dialogue on Fred's pictures. If Luis gets meaning from Fred's pictures that, on the surface of it, seem not to have been "put there" by Fred, does this somehow mean that Fred has less to do with what Luis has found? I would suggest, no, no, no. To my mind, Fred's pictures are always about exactly what (or the kind of thing that) happens to/for Luis and others who view them. Fred's literal intent, as he's tried to explain it or discuss it in this forum, is the means, the verbs, the nouns by which we are able to "find" that in-between; to let us hear the music, to bring us to the dance.</p>

<p>Polishing surely has a place in art, but I think that because we only have the instruments, the subject/objects, the nouns/verbs, the not-dancing-dancer, it's a question of remembering that what's being polished is not what we can get our hands on directly.</p>

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<p><strong>1.- Julie - "</strong>...the meaning is not *in* the words of a given language. It's not in the nouns, the verbs, the adjectives, etc. The meaning is between the words."</p>

<p>"I think I could say somethin' if you know what I mean<br /> But if I really say it, the radio won't play it<br /> Unless I lay it between the lines"</p>

<p>--- "I dig Rock'n Roll Music", Peter, Paul and Mary</p>

<p>Artists of all stripes have known this forever and a day. One of my many incarnations has been that of a translator, which makes me literally and literarily familiar with what Julie is saying. <strong> </strong> As they say, the letter has its foot and its spirit. The medium/performance provide a space, shaping the energies in it in the same way that water assumes the shape of its container, be it a river, bowl or tear duct.</p>

<p><strong>Julie - "</strong>2. The point of art is to (what's a safe word in this forum?) ... "find" that in-between. To that end, good music will make the instruments, its instruments, disappear, leaving only the music. Good pictures will make the objects and subjects disappear, leaving only the visual music."</p>

<p>I forget who said it, but it goes something like: "all good technology disappears". Art <em>uses </em>that space as another, nearly extra-sensory, channel.</p>

<p><strong>3b - "</strong>He tries to close the circle; to force the in-between to stop just here, just so. In so doing, he's not only closing the circle of the content, he's trying to close the circle of the viewer."</p>

<p>To me, this is a sign of slickness or life-choking control. It's called a deathgrip for a reason.</p>

<p><strong>4 - "</strong>If Luis gets meaning from Fred's pictures that, on the surface of it, seem not to have been "put there" by Fred, does this somehow mean that Fred has less to do with what Luis has found? I would suggest, no, no, no. To my mind, Fred's pictures are always about exactly what (or the kind of thing that) happens to/for Luis and others who view them."</p>

<p>Yes and no. Every viewer brings, or wants something different from each photograph. The interaction that results forms in the space between them. To use the strong-auteur theory here (which, for some reason, I suspect Julie favors) the photographer is responsible and gets credit for everything in his pictures, of course. But... photographs contain more than their makers are conscious of. The camera Hoovers more than the eye can see. Photographs, they have their secrets, things their makers are not aware of, influences they can't imagine, whispers that we can't make out....things that come into being outside of our control and our awareness that give them a life of their own. To control freaks, that kind of indeterminacy is disturbing. To me, it's a kind of radiance, parts of which are beyond our capacity to see, and this varies person by person. I believe there are secrets in our photographs that we can only know through other people, like an echo resonating between mountains -- or the spaces between us.</p>

<p>[ I like what Arbus said, that photographs are "...a secret about a secret, they more they tell you, the less you know." ]</p>

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<p>Oh, good! We're going to part ways a little here. The descriptions, especially the in-between stuff, the "I can't quite put my finger on it" aspect of art, are great. Never been a translator but that stuff rings true for me, too.</p>

<p>I'm not so hot on the "good music makes instruments disappear" and "good pictures make subjects and object disappear." First off, instruments to music is very different from subjects and objects to pictures. Subjects and objects are more like melodies and harmonies, not like instruments. I often go to hear Bach and Mozart (her again?) on original instruments. I can't separate that from the music. Wouldn't want to. And I certainly can't separate subjects from pictures.* Sure, my photos may be about more, they <em>are</em> about more, but they are very much wanting to bring the subjects to you, or at least to me. It's not <em>merely</em> visual music. Hello? Here's <em>Ian</em>. Here's <em>Gerald</em>. Here's <em>Maurice Chevalier</em>. See them? In the vernacular, I'd say this part of the discussion above went a little off the deep end, got a little too airy-fairy, even for me! Need to come back to Earth please. ;-) [Or did I misunderstand? Always possible.]</p>

<p>I agree with Luis's "interaction" answer to Julie's "no, no, no." What did Fred put in and what did Luis get out? First off, everything Luis said about my photos is pretty close to something I've considered, if even loosely, though I never articulated it quite as stunningly as he did. So, he revealed things to me about my photos but it didn't feel like he was creating anything out of whole cloth and his descriptions were quite close to things I've said over the years in response to comments on their pages. It made me feel a real kinship and connection to him. At the same time, I agree photos contain a lot more than the photographer is conscious of and do take on a life of their own. Yet, I seem to always want to balance that against the extreme of saying a photo is whatever the viewer makes of it. Because -- and it hasn't just happened with my own pictures but I've seen it with lots of descriptions and interpretations of others' pictures -- people can sometimes just be wrong or way off track or downright ridiculous in their way of looking at a photo. That's why I think Luis is onto something when he talks about the space between photographer and viewer and secrets. A solipsistic viewer will make the photo his/her own and often leave not only the maker of the photo but the photo itself off the table. A photo will merely become an excuse to foster a personal vision or prejudice. When all empathy is lost, I think a lot of vision is lost. And, I love the idea of secrets or echoes. There's a soft kind of truth (better than that hard edge of certainty) to secrets and echoes.</p>

<p>As for the auteur theory, it takes me only so far. I think one can maintain that the photographer has responsibility even for the secrets that he learns about from others in his own photographs while giving up control over how those secrets affect others he touches by showing them the photographs. Yes, there are influences and things the photographer is not aware of, accidents and serendipity, but it is through the photographer's handiwork that these things get revealed, even if the revelations come from others. At the same time, the subjects of my portraits are responsible for as much and sometimes more and sometimes less than me. So there are times when I feel like I'm not the director, not the Truffaut in the picture, but that I'm actually being led by my subject. I think there are stronger and weaker subjects of photos. The stronger ones are very influential and very responsible, as far as I'm concerned.</p>

<p>___________________________________</p>

<p>*Documentary photos would often be the extreme example here where the visual music would rarely drown out the subjects and objects. The claim, in fact, could be made that if that were to occur, they wouldn't be very good documentary photos.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Forgot . . . Julie's description of what she thinks Steichen has done in the picture. Seems like she's saying he was more intent on creating art than on doing what was in front of him. While I don't agree with that assessment, if that's what Julie was getting at, and in any case don't see evidence of what Julie's describing, I think "the desire to make art" can be, though is not necessarily, a problem. If it distracts an artist from what's at hand, the desire to create art can get in the way. It often does. It can supplant nuts and bolts and the groundedness necessary to be in touch with what you're doing with too much reliance on myth and magic. But it doesn't have to distract. The two, the desire to make art and the desire to do what's in front of you, can co-exist. </p>

<p>This goes back a little to the withdrawal I'm feeling from criticism lately. I do love hearing, sometimes, why people like or don't like a photo. But, because taste is so often involved, sometimes no reason is a good reason. Why don't I like tomatoes? I have no clue. Just don't like 'em. Is what Julie's experiencing with this photo a matter of taste or is she looking for something objective in the photo as proof? It's often a bit of each, I suppose.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>

<p>At something like 40m seconds I began seeing what Julie describes as the polish in the Steichen photo. Its "contrivedness". This happened somewhat like that of the memory we retain of music we have just listened to, and after the fact are trying to assess how it really affected us, when we cannot listen again to it. Are we then recalling the effect of music that makes the instruments disappear (It think I would rather say the music that makes the musical score and not the instruments disappear, like the example she uses of the communication that makes the words disappear or arouses the reader to read between the lines - I enjoy that thought, it's not an uncommon one, but one that we frequently deal with in appreciating the written word as well as music, theatre and writing).</p>

<p>Our minds are just where they want to be at any particular moment. Do we sense rather than contrive a photo? When we control things too much, we can "overcontrive" the result. We may polish it in a manner that oftimes subtracts from what might have been a more sincere or spontaneous perception. Polishing is not a bad gest in itself, and some artists effectively paint over scenes several times in trying to evoke what they are thinking (which like any creative act is not fully fixed in time, and thus subject to non initial additional thoughts during polishing).</p>

<p>I don't know how to do an information link here except by chance (rather like that large proportion of people who cannot reset the "12:00" on their microwave or stove clocks), but I want to describe one image (url below) where I believe I was not fully in control of the moment, and is therefore a moment where my mind happened to be, prepared but uncontrolled to some degree. The lady in the print is actually walking up a grade on this narrow street in the old city (Quebec), squeezed between houses on one side and the chapel buildings of the seminary school. Light penetrates the street only occasionally, and I was initially interested in the curious shapes of shadows on the chapel building. A moment later the lady walking up the street caught my attention. I didn't realize it consciously at the moment, but something made me make the vertical and fairly wide angle image of the two subject matters, not just one or the other. I don't even think the image has been reviewed by anyone before (speaking to its modest ability to capture attention), but I do think it plays somewhat effectively on the interaction between the strong hard shadows I had been looking at and the lady (one second there, another gone from that moment forever). That "between the line music", perhaps not fully understood at the time, was evidently important for me, but I understand that it may not arouse widefelt similar thoughts. </p>

 

</p>

<p>http://www.photo.net/photo/11472738</p>

<p>Julie raises a lot of thoughts, of which the music between the lines is the most important I believe and not the easiest of challenges for a photographer. </p>

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<p>[Not ignoring Luis's post and the bulk of Fred's -- I'll respond in depth later, but can't resist an immediate response to this little bit ... ]</p>

<p>Fred said, "Is what Julie's experiencing with this photo a matter of taste ..." What else could it be? It's taste all the way down, all the time. With that being the case, I, you, we find our proof wherever our taste leads us -- though "proof" is not a word I would ever use ...</p>

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<p><em>"What else could it be?"</em></p>

<p>For me, there are at least two possibilities. 1) I could think it's a bad photo. 2) It could be a photo I don't like.</p>

<p>There are many photos I think are good that are not my cup of tea. Then there are some photos I just plain think are bad. I'd tend to make a much more objective case (yes, "proof" was over-the-top) for the latter than for the former.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Art critics have largely disappeared from the scene, mostly due to the moribund state of print media where they used to appear, from slick magazines to medium-sized town newspapers. Most web critics are like picky fleas complaining about every dog that walks by, though there are notable exceptions. The majority are merely tastemongering, and can't give any support to their often imperious conclusions. I find that description is far more positive (most of the time) interactive and informative, letting the artist and anyone reading you know where you've been, what you're thinking, and why. In today's consumerist culture, most people treat criticism as a kind of <em>Buy Now rating, </em>which complicates matters.</p>

<p>There are things beyond taste. I encounter many pictures which I may personally dislike, but clearly understand to be currently first-rate, given the state of the medium. Some I like and understand to be weak in many ways, or viceversa.</p>

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<p>IMO it'd be good if we'd pay our neo-philosophic attention to photography more than to personalities.</p>

<p>Following my simplistic comments about Steichen's work in that 1960 portraiture book I've browsed through the equally beautiful (and more "modern" looking) "Steichen, A Life in Photography" Doubleday (MOMA) 1964. This presents an entirely different perspective on his work...which is much broader than portraiture.</p>

<p>It seems to visually confirm his early Pictorial values, in particular with heavily manipulated portraits and nudes (Fred G mentioned nudes).</p>

<p>Most of his 20's- 30's work seems to continue along a "painterly" line.</p>

<p>Most remarkable to me, most surprising, are the earlier works from cc 1905, particularly a "pigment print" of a devilish Richard Strauss, which seems far more engaged with the subject than most of Steichen's later, more rigid-seeming work.</p>

<p>Also impressive are two 1907 portraits of George Bernard Shaw, titled "The Photographer's Best Model." As with that of many portrait photographers, Steichen's work does justice mostly to the most interesting (poised, animated, handsome) subjects, especially celebrities. When he's dealing with average folks he seems to labor in hopes that dignity and graphic layout will compensate. </p>

 

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<p>Julie, reading you 4 points, I just want to throw in another thought on them; I think it may give maybe some different perspective on points 3...maybe. Not quite sure, but I'll put it down all the same.<br>

The first point on in between words... this is true, and I can say painfully true. I'm living abroad for some 1,5 years now, and while I am getting up to some speed in the local language, it's to me totally utilitarian. I have no fluency. The other half of the day (work), I use English. Learnt language too, but familiar. For my work, I deal with translations and with some infrequency have to use some other languages on which I have a very minimal level of skill (no Polish, sory). A large part of my work is actually writing. Yes, it all happens in between the words. Knowing a dictionary does not make you knowledgeable of the language at all.<br/>

Ah, yes, and there is my native language, which I use infrequently a few times a week.<br>

<br>

In all but my native language, I am unable to fully express myself. There is an intimacy, immediate recognition of meaning, intent and word-play that I can recognise only in that language. My English is certainly decent, and I dare to express a very wide array of subjects in it. But something is missing that gives me the ability to really convey me. In the other languages, there is ordering food, dealing with the cashier in the supermarket and other practicalities and so on. There is nothing mine in it.<br>

So, except in my native language, I loose a lot of me. Humour (or at least, what I find fun), wit, a certain sharpness but also moods, expressing emotions, feelings...those finer messages in language that take a good listener to understand. The thing happening between the words is simply not there. And it changes everything. There is this invisible layer between you and your message, you loose the skill for exactly transmitting what you want to transmit. Lovely in German: no <i>Fingerspitzengefühl</i>. You indeed get point 3a or 3b as result, and not point 4. Point 4 is native language.<br>

But following my much too lengthy intro, the thought. Question actually. Is the polishing a deliberate thing? Or is it "inability"? Is it (abusing myself) me speaking Italian (3a?), or overly scolar use of Dutch (3b)? It could be argued it's a level of not being in tune with the language, so not expressing oneself as one really can, and in that sense unfortunate but not deliberately so.<br>

<br>

I'd value Steichen a bit higher than that, though. Isn't he using a scolar-level of language here, to stick to that parallel, for you? I think I'd agree... though whether I'd call it polish.... it is to me somewhat clearly staged - it lacks liveliness, spontaneity and I miss that. To keep up with language, I miss a bit the talk of the streets. But indeed, a matter of taste.</p>

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<p>I rather regret (once more) talking about my own photos and giving examples, Fred does that as well and sometimes he gets reactions which I'm sure are pleasing to him. When we talk in the third person on PoP we are certainly very safe, removed from any possible danger of the remarks being too personal. The PoP forum has often been said to not be the place for personal revelations or statements regarding one's work. It is often proven to be so, for whatever reason. It is philosophy first, photography second, except of course if we chose to invoke the work of a "master".</p>

<p>I understand what Wouter is saying. French is my own second language and the 3rd and 4th languages are too remote from any efficient application to even be mentioned. Our last Governor General spoke 7 languages, She truly represented the pluralityof the new Canada. The nuances in French often miss me, but I disagree with Wouter on the point that the nuances between the lines are therefore not perceptible. It would seem to make sense that if the words (or especially their grammatical juxtapposition) is not fully understood, the spaces between them must be opaque. I think not for two reasons. The first is that the person attempting the second language is often more highly concentrated on the words and their use than someone to whom the language is maternal, who coasts through the sentences. The second is that often the second language speaker reflects upon what was said for a longer period than the maternal speaker. Both of these I think auger for a more transcendental appreciation of what was being said, even if the intended meaning is not fathomed perfectly. Of course, the maternal speaker, given a similar creative mind, will more often read between the lines than the second language speaker and listener.</p>

<p>The other aspect is one's compatability with the spirit, if not the intent, of the creative person whose art is being studied. For many years, my relation with our island architect (a municipal position dedicated to inciting an architecture compatible with our milieu, and preserving what remains of the traditional architecure) was cordial but very confined. He didn't seem to think that my conservation efforts or research were worthy of much time. He didn't read between the lines, and nor did I fully do so in regard to his interests. Today, introduced accidentally into our conversatiion was a common link which we both experienced at one time, that of student life in the Bloomsbury district in London. We lived in the same overseas residence and square and frequented the same pub (Dylan Thomas' haunt) on Lambs Conduit street, and also the same overall institution of learning. The presumed natural dissimilarity of experience between a French Canadian and an English Canadian was shocked by this common chord and similar other experiences in the British capital in different decades. An unexpected bond was established and the conversation grew more transparent than it had once been. Perhaps in an analogous way we are able to see more in the works of someone of similar spirit than one we have little in common with. Polishing is not necessary to understand what is not said or shown. We have acquired similar tools and experience of understanding.</p>

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<p>Arthur, honestly I hesitated to say anything because I don't much like this photo you linked to and I don't think it suggests (at least to me, the viewer) what you seem to think went into it. Nevertheless, I don't want you to feel ignored and I do appreciate when people post their photos as examples.</p>

<p>You use it as an example of not being completely in control, yet to me most of what I see is control. A centered subject dwarfed against a massive architectural background. Whether or not you saw it coming and even though it was spontaneous in the taking, the perspective, the composition, and the expression (not on the person's face but the expression of the photo) say anything but spontaneity to me. It is still and seems all in order and prepared. So the spontaneity, for me, has not been expressed photographically, though it may well have been there in the moment.</p>

<p>With some polishing, I think it could be improved. Right now the figure is slightly out of focus and getting lost against the background, but I don't get a sense of commitment to how that's being shown. She could be brought out more or she could blend in more. More could be developed in the textures that she wears against the texture of the church behind her.</p>

<p>I'm not seeing what you are between the lines. I'm not getting a sense of relationship between the strong, hard shadows and the lady. I can imagine several ways that could be made more visually evident. If you agree, it would be interesting to see what choice you might make to allow more of the relationship you felt to come through.</p>

<p>I was hesitant because, often, getting specific about the photos of others on this forum has led to hurt feelings or at least bad blood between the photographer and the critic. But I spoke up out of respect for you and out of the daring I know it takes to show a photo as an exemplar. And I'm glad you spoke up about your disappointment in not having had your photo addressed.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p><em>"Polishing is not necessary to understand what is not said or shown. We have acquired similar tools and experience of understanding."</em> Arthur. <br>

I think that's a perfect observation. I don't buy the idea that "meaning" resides "between words," however, because communication between people and ideas is not a matter of words or spaces, it's a matter of arrangement, sequencing, structural nuance. A fine writer isn't someone who selects words and spaces, s/he is someone who constructs whole sentences and arranges them in whole paragraphs or stanzas.<br>

And I'll mention that several of the finest novelists in the English language were Nabokov (raised with French and secondarily Russian) and Joseph Conrad (raised in Poland speaking Polish). I think "polish" can be a good thing, but not at the expense of...concise writing :-)</p>

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<p>Fred, your reaction to that image is not uncommon and I know it is a sincere and honest one, that allows me to appreciate your view. It possibly relates as well to what I was referring to in my last post in regard to the meeting or not of spirits. I guess if I had introduced some imperfection or blur in the rendition of the building, the shadows might have been more prominent and the figure delineated. I don't know how I could have improved the image otherwise (it is of course a photo of a photo and may not be too well reproduced in that respect). One thing is for sure, it was certainly not contrived or controlled. I think it is not one of my stronger images, but was simply placed here to incite disussion of the phenomenon, and rather spontaneously at that. I can understand though that you don't see any additional meaning in the relation of the shadows and the woman..</p>

<p>Talking about control and contrived images, some of the Steichen images mentioned earlier, notably those of Stokowski and Heifetz, are to me not subtle enough and simply much too contrived. The acute angles behind Stokowski are apparently meant to speak to the conductor's very non conventional conducting. I see no more than that, in fact he looks decidedly uncomfortable in Steichen's pose. The very strong shadows behind Heifetz, they add what to the image, to the portrait? They are abrupt ("virtuosity"??) and for these eyes anything but a representation of the marvellous and subtle control he had with his chosen instrument. Perhaps I see little in these portraits that is not contrived or controlled by the photographer, and that to ill effect in my opinion. The use of shadows in portraiture can be elegant and subtle, but the temptation is often to overdo (overpolish?) or exaggerate their use. Not something usually doine by a photographer of the ilk of Steichen, but we cannot rule out the quirks and fashions of his period I guess. The Maurice Chevalier portrait is better I think (even though it doesn't set my mind racing), where the multiple shadows speak to his joyful and effervescent nature, and his love of the light of the stage.</p>

 

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<p>Arthur,</p>

<blockquote>

<p>but I disagree with Wouter on the point that the nuances between the lines are therefore not perceptible</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Just to prove the point how a non-native language just misses that last final bit.... I did not express very clear, but my point was more the immediateness, the ease and natural-ness of understanding the finer points. Yes, it is perceptible in learnt languages too, but with effort and, in my experience, never as simple and fluent.<br>

Sure we can miscommunicate in our native tongue too, as well strike a perfect understanding in a non-native language. My point more was about the ease and with that the closeness to your own inner expressions. Reading the rest of your reply, I think we're actually on the same page on that point.</p>

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<p>LOL at Joseph White ("they did in fact polish a turd."). [<em>putting on my sternest Serious Philosopher's Face</em>] But Joseph, was it still a turd, having lost its texture, its moisture, its aroma?</p>

<p>Wouter, your post of yesterday has made my head explode (that's a good thing; for me, life's finer moments include head explosions). I am going nuts with your "Is the polishing a deliberate thing? Or is it "inability"?" -- thinking about variations on that. We can have 1) a person who has everything to say but doesn't know how to say it, or we can have 2) a person who has nothing to say even though he would know perfectly well how to say it. I'll spare you all my (thoroughly enjoyed) explorations of that because the visual doesn't really map to the linguistic in that, in the visual, both person 1 and person 2 would presumably always know what they were looking at and could take a picture of it. The issue then turns to where each thinks the meaning lies (in the things/stuff or in-between the things/stuff or because of the stuff/in-between tensions, etc.) and on how to "surface" (cause to rise above the uniform visual din or silence) such that it addresses the/a viewer instead of just passing, passing, passing.</p>

<p>Returning to persons 1 and 2, I am thinking that person 1 finds too much undifferentiated meaning; he/she doestn't (yet) know how to "pull" this or that thread out of the weave, just enough to move the torrent this way or that. Person 2, on the other hand, sees in units, in discrete segments, does not see or want to see or (so far) hasn't realized the existence, the importance, the primary importance of what's not literally there.</p>

<p>As an example, I'm going to use a bit of poetry (LOL; and I just explained why language doesn't compare ...).</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>What sap<br />went through that little thread<br />to make the cherry red!<br>

[<em>part of the poem</em> Nevertheless <em>by Marianne Moore</em>]</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>Moore wants "sap," "thread," and "red." To get there, she uses a cherry. She doesn't want the cherry, she just wants the sap and the thread and the red but the cherry (and "what" and "went through" and "that little" and "to make the") are all necessary to get the sap and the thread and the red -- and those three are merely needed to get what is "behind" or "between" those words.</p>

<p>A photograph of a cherry would be a cherry; it would not get to any of the things that Moore gets to thanks to the extra-visual room of language. There are, of course, many ways of getting to what Moore is getting to behind the cherry via photography, but a photograph of a cherry is not one of them. Person 1 in my previous paragraphs would know this and be struggling to figure out what/how to sort what's behind that cherry, to "surface" it out of the visual; in being unable to figure out what not to polish he polishes (desperately) every last thing. Person 2, above, would photograph the cherry. And polish it.</p>

 

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<p>Nice example, Julie, but Moore has already introduced us to sap, thread and red, and hopefully what is behind them, as well as speaking of the cherry.</p>

<p>In visual art, what is not there - is not there. Period. Somehow the photographer, without photographing the cherry, must introduce some elements that will introduce sap, thread and red in a different way and induce whatever they mean. The luxury of words and how they are assembled is not there as clearly, and the photographer must struggle to show the immaterial (in the non banal sense) in a different way. My photograph of the tired woman and the crushing formal architecture and dense heavy shadows, while not a contender for "picture of the week" (and I frankly wouldn't want it or many of its companions to be that) is meant to incite me and the viewer to think about the hardships of daily life, or the fragility of man compared to the power of his physical realisations (or whatever is meant, as one cannot design all responses, as Fred has mentioned). What is not seen in a text, and particularly a poetic one, is conditioned by many elements that are achieved in the flow of the content of the text, whereas an instantaneous image must play on a particularly fortuitous arrangement of light, colour, form, symbols and other elements that can lift it from its two dimensional confinement (I almost wrote "little prison") and that of the perceived realism.</p>

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<p>Julie, I wonder how much of the "accidental" is of importance in your polished cherry ( always beats a polished turd ). The <em>accidental</em>, as discussed in a link I made in the Art and the Artist thread :</p>

<blockquote>

<p>"the most mysterious of which is the appearance of the "accidental." This word is placed in quotation marks because the extent to which the photographer is the victim or the controlling agent is a moot point. The phenomenon of the apparently accidental incident or of the inclusion within the frame of an apparently insignificant object has been known to photographers since the beginning of the medium. Some have delighted in it, others have deplored it, and the more astute have exploited it. Oliver Wendell Holmes, American physician, essayist, and poet, recognized the power of the so-called unintentional in the photograph when, in 1859, he wrote, "The more evidently accidental their introduction, the more trivial they are in themselves, the more they take hold of the imagination." One critic has recently put a name to it - punctum: that which unexpectedly reaches out and pierces the viewer, thereby giving new meaning to the image."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Arhur, in your picture I do see the slight curve of the woman's pose in relation to the curve of the shadow right above her. What I also see in my minds eye, as a possibility, is a much more graphical approach then how you presented it, with much more contrast and almost black shadows.</p>

<p>-----<br /> As for Steichen's portraits, I kinda feel drawn to <a href="http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/66683/print">this</a> one, which are two exposures made into one photograph.</p>

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<p>Trying to bring a little sap to this cherry, I wanted to return to point #2 in Julie's post yesterday...</p>

<p>"2. The point of art is to (what's a safe word in this forum?) ... "find" that in-between. To that end, good music will make the instruments, its instruments, disappear, leaving only the music. Good pictures will make the objects and subjects disappear, leaving only the visual music."</p>

<p>I replied:<br>

"I forget who said it, but it goes something like: "all good technology disappears". Art <em>uses </em>that space as another, nearly extra-sensory, channel."</p>

<p>I want to clarify that I did not mean it <em>literally</em> that objects, subjects, instruments, dancers, etc. go *POOF* & disappear. They do not. It is more like a focus-shift. The work or performance seems to temporarily enter a higher order zone or channel in the viewer's mind where different-order elements within the work gain or lose emphasis.</p>

<p>Like looking through fluttering veils.</p>

<p>Please overlook Schiller's grandiosity, but there's a part of the quote which relates to the above.<br>

<br />"In an artistic work of true beauty the content ought to be nil, the form everything. . . . The secret of great artists is that they cancel matter through form; the more imposing the matter is in itself, the greater its obstinacy in striving to emphasize its own particular effect, the more the spectator inclines to lose himself immediately in the matter, so much more triumphant is the art which brings it into subjection and enforces its own sovereign power." <br /><br />Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller (1759-1805).</p>

<p> </p>

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<p><strong>Arthur - </strong>"In visual art, what is not there - is not there. Period."</p>

<p>In the strictest literal sense, I suppose so. But...Art (and many other forms of expression and communication) can be like a virus. It's not strictly limited by its content, but it can use things that aren't in it, like social/cultural information that can safely be assumed to be in the viewer, using the viewer's DNA to generate the fullness of the work. Or think of a metaphor. It generates far more than it contains. When we sit in an audience, apparently passive, watching a performance, our mirror neurons are mediating what we are seeing and internalizing it. We are constantly transmitting loads of information and experience to each other. Humanity is a network, and artists riff off our shared being. In a way, a part of the art is already inside us, waiting for us to see it. An astute artist can offer us code that attracts and uses what is within us to great (and mutual) advantage.</p>

<p><strong>Phylo - </strong>In the <em>Le Penseur</em> picture of Rodin and his sculpture by Steichen that you cite being drawn to, how would you describe its polish?</p>

<p> </p>

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<blockquote>

<p><strong>Phylo - </strong>In the <em>Le Penseur</em> picture of Rodin and his sculpture by Steichen that you cite being drawn to, how would you describe its polish?</p>

</blockquote>

<p>I wouldn't know, don't know if I would want to, except that its <em>polish (</em> for as far as we can know and agree what that term really means in this thread's context, and if it's to be good or bad ) is not a line going or a point pointing somewhere,but a circle, like the composition of the three figures in the photo. And, the tension / interplay between Rodin the thinker and Rodin's thinker, which goes back and forth, back and forth,... silhouetted against the white of the statue in the background, is what make most of the picture's *polish*.</p>

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<p>First off, thanks Luis for making that clearer. I didn't quite understand what you were agreeing to and putting it in terms of focus makes it much more <em>apparent</em>. Perhaps, in a similar vein, some of these observations are about a shifting focus as well.</p>

<p>_____________________________</p>

<p>One of the joys of photography for me is the play between the literal and the non-literal. This DOES NOT mean that the non-literal is always seeking a literal-ness behind it to make sense of it. There are things in photographs that are there FOR NO REASON. (Perhaps this is in line with what Phylo's quote conveys.)</p>

<p><em>"A photograph of a cherry would be a cherry; it would not get to any of the things that Moore gets to thanks to the extra-visual room of language."</em></p>

<p>I don't agree with this. A literal rendition of a cherry can get beyond the cherry, though not in the same way words do. That's the great thing about photographic transcendence. It transcends what it IS. I still maintain that among all the FURTHER and non-literal things Weston's pepper is, it is a PEPPER. A picture of a cherry could very much express stuff between the lines.</p>

<p>Arthur, I find the Steichen portraits we're talking about contrived as well. But, I like them for that. I can see where others would find them way too staged and perhaps even a little too formulaic.</p>

<p>I'm also not looking for the kinds of meaning or representation or purpose you are in them. Were I to have chosen the shadows as a background, it probably wouldn't have something to do with his personality or his musical style. It would be to create visual dimension. That kind of dimension (just as in music) gives an audience/viewer room to interpret, for sure, but the interpretation would not be mine. I'd be supplying the space in which the viewer could move around. And even that wouldn't be on my mind when I created the photo . . . or when I look at it. The feeling of the dimension would be what hits me and how the subject looks against that, exists within it, becomes part of it . . . or doesn't. Likely the relationship of his angular face to the sharp angle behind him would have caught my attention. I might have thought about or intuited/noticed my perspective and his relationship to the shadow. The shadow to me almost looks like it's of the open top of a baby grand piano. That might have drawn my attention, consciously or unconsciously when I was shooting. The shadows would be like those unarticulated whispers or echoes Julie and Luis talked about above. They would not represent anything. They would feel a certain way. Which is not to say I think you should like this photo any more than you do. Not at all. I'm merely talking about different ways to look at it, like it or not.</p>

<p>The talk about language is useful, only to an extent. When that starts becoming a comparison of what photos can accomplish vs. what the written word can accomplish, I lose interest. Why do we go there? Do we really think of photos as substituting for the written word or for those kinds of ideas we present in words? I don't. We may say there's such a thing as a visual language without wanting to translate from one language to another. We may, indeed, as Luis mentions often, DESCRIBE what we see in a photo, but when we do that we are not <em>translating</em> the photo into words, we are describing what we see. The photo remains a photo.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Apart from the humour of the viewer trying to decide which of the two is "the thinker", Rodin or his famous statue, perhaps this fine image is polished by having both Rodin and his statue in it, when perhaps the original image of Rodin in his thinking pose with the out of focus Victor Hugo in the background might have been as powerful. On the other hand, the balance of light and dark forms in the composite image is successful, in that it does what (as Luis appropriately quotes) Schiller considered as a salient definition of art.</p>

<p>Luis, I agree fully with what you say about the importance of what is not there. My sentence was in relation to the more complete part of my argument which was about the (inherently more difficult) potential of visual art being quite different from that of written art in making the unseen seen by the viewer.</p>

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