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The Rules of Photography in Everyday Shooting


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<p>You cannot fail to follow the rules of exposure and stop-action, when applicable, and expect a good image. However, these day, the camera will get it right 90+% of the time. Although the image may not be optimal, it'll be acceptable to most people.<br>

About composition, many of us learn from looking at the images of others and just absorb and adopt the "rules" subconsciously. Other, like me, learned composition as a 12-year old student, aided by rules and examples that our instructor showed us. Fifty-four years later, without a checklist, I'm looking for something of interest in the foreground, or out on the extremes on an ultra-wide; I'm placing the horizon somewhere other than the middle (unless it's a reflection), etc., etc.<br>

Could a gifted artist shoot very attractive images without any express knowledge of the rules of composition? Yes, of course, but I'd say that such people are the exception rather than the rule. Go to Flickr and pick out a random user that's not "Explored" or "interesting" and you'll likely find someone that needs to learn a few "rules."</p>

 

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<p>What a load of drivel. </p>

<p>The fact of the matter, as I alluded to in my original statement (The rules of photography is the sound of one hand clapping) is that there are no such things as 'rules' in 'photography'.</p>

<p>Photographic procedure cannot be classified in the same way as, say, the laws of physics. Or the Rule of Law. Or anything actually that can be quantified. The existing so called 'rules' of photography are simply agreements between esteemed practitioners of the art who thru the years have attempted to codify the mystical into the mundane. Or by art critics who like to sit around and discuss the artistic merits of composition or color or blah blah blah whatever. Or by teachers of the craft who try to instill in eager students a basic set of 'this good, that bad' mentality. Years later these very same students will look back on their body of work and have the epiphany that their best photos were the very ones that broke all those 'rules'.</p>

<p>Photography is about this and nothing more.....the creation of a compelling image that can move the human soul. There are no rules at all that apply to that. Photography is Art. Photography is Love. Photography is the cry of an anguished human spirit or the grand triumph over adversity. NONE of these things can ever have rules applied to them.</p>

<p>"What is the sound of one hand clapping?" This is a famous Zen koan. It doesnt have a singular answer as its purpose it to gauge ones journey along the road of understanding Zen. The answer I have come to believe fits the best for me is...The sound of one hand clapping is no sound at all. So the question in effect is really asking "What is the sound of Nothing"?</p>

<p>Thus, the rule of photography are....nothing. "Do what thou wilt, that is the whole of the law", to quote Mr. Crowley.</p>

<p>I have never once, not even one singular time, ever given the slightest bit of thought to a supposed 'Rule' as I have swung my camera up to my eye to capture an image.</p>

<p>Here are some of my flickr sets for those who dont know my photography from previous posts. And from my discussion with flickr friends and other photographers I can guarantee Im not an exception to any 'rule'. Huh...there is that word again.</p>

<p>https://www.flickr.com/photos/8539414@N07/sets/72157641534772013/<br>

https://www.flickr.com/photos/8539414@N07/sets/72157629936411965/</p>

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<p>David, you're certainly are full of yourself. You can pontificate all you want, but capturing an image, film or digital, is a physics problem. Fortunately we no longer have to carry our camera, photographic plates and chemicals around in a horse-drawn wagon. Auto-focus, auto-metering, digital sensors, etc. have freed us to just take pictures. Some of find artistic rules, some don't.</p>

<p>I wasn't talking about your images, my images or the images that I Follow on Flickr when I referred to the millions (maybe billions) of bad images on Flickr. There are many more bad images on Flickr than good, as judged by, "would anyone not involved with the image want to see it?" MOST images on Flickr would benefit from following a rule or two. That's all I was saying.</p>

<p>I looked at your referenced images. I didn't see where you are breaking rules. Why don't you link to a specific image?</p>

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<p>Full of myself? Quite possibly. Correct in everything I said? Most definitely.</p>

 

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<p>There are many more bad images on Flickr than good, as judged by, "would anyone not involved with the image want to see it?"</p>

 

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<p>You make the mistake here of assuming the worth of a photo is only from the point of view of the viewer. Or, more accurately I believe, from the point of view as yourself as the viewer.</p>

<p>I gave the very same response to an earlier post about what makes a good photograph. "A good photograph is the sound of one hand clapping". All the reasons I listed above ring true here as well.</p>

<p>To label a photograph as 'good' or 'bad' is the beginning of what I feel is a completely erroneous way to approach photography. And unfortunately we as humans do this in almost all aspects of our life. Without ever once admitting to ourselves that nobody has been able to answer the age old good/bad dilemma in any conclusive manner. The best I have ever experienced can shared by reading <em>Zen and the Art of Motorcycle </em><em>Maintenance </em>by Robert Prisig. That 'inquiry into values' is an amazing piece of work and I highly recommend it to anyone.</p>

<p>How does one define a good photograph? Is it from the perspective of the shooter? Or the perspective of the subject? If professional paid work is it viewed solely from the point of view of the client? Or possibly from the point of veiw from the young girl who sees the ad in a magazine and makes a purchasing decision based on said ad? What about the grieving mother who recently lost a daughter who sees the ad and is reminded of her loss because that is the make up her child used? Or should we view it from the perspective of the grocer from whom you purchase bread with the money you made from the photo. Im sure the grocer would think it a very fine photo indeed since it puts money in his pocket. The grieving mother may think quite differently.</p>

<p>The point is that every photograph is both good and bad. A photo is nothing more then an image that stimulates a reaction in the human brain when viewed by our eyes. In that sense every photo ever taken is exactly the same. Yet sometimes an image can create powerful emotions that delve deep into the conscious or even sub conscious mind of the viewer to generate remorse or humor or pain or love or whatever. While I believe that photographs such as this are what we as photographers should strive to create with every breath and every click I in no way believe that other, 'lesser' photos are bad. It is just that I simply cannot in my given place and time make a reference to them that allow them to effect me in a powerful way. Is this because of a heightened sense of artistic acuity? That is probably what my ego would say.</p>

<p>What I see when I view an image you would probably classify as 'bad' is an attempt. I am seeing the result of a fellow human being either thru purpose or chance making an attempt to tap into the powerful well of emotions that a photograph can generate. It is this very outpouring of human creativity that prevents me from pointing at it and saying 'Wow, that is a bad photograph".</p>

<p>Much like the path one follows when trying to understand Zen the path a photographer must follow is dimly lit and convoluted. But one should always recognize and praise the attempt, no matter how small the result when viewed from our much further place on the path.</p>

 

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<p>I looked at your referenced images. I didn't see where you are breaking rules. Why don't you link to a specific image?</p>

 

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<p>I think you missed my point. I dont shoot with rules, therefor I break none.</p>

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<p>Photography is about this and nothing more.....the creation of a compelling image that can move the human soul.</p>

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<p>Ironically, this sounds like one of those rules that don't exist.<br>

<br>

More importantly, it's false. A forensic photo doesn't usually move human souls. It represents something, as accurately as possible. Now, a forensic photo might move the human soul in the way any stimulus would, but then that's just a fact of living and not a unique property of photos.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>I should have made clear in my original posting the distinction between (1) rules of technical expertise and (2) rules of aesthetic evaluation. I was thinking of the latter when I asked the question, since I admitted that, where technical expertise is concerned, "I try to get the exposure right, and I do think about the depth of field I want, whether I need to use exposure compensation or a tripod or timed release, etc." That is, I do know that I must obey certain rules <em>qua</em> procedures in order to come away with a technically proficient photograph.</p>

<p>What troubles me the most with regard to my own photography is this: my greatest disappointments have been not those that represented failures of technical expertise, but those shots that <em>were</em> technically near perfect but were <em>still</em> soulless.</p>

<p>Failures of technique are akin to spitting on the laws of [applied] physics. Aesthetic failures which cannot be attributed to lack of technical expertise are quite another thing entirely, and it is aesthetic evaluations pure and simple that I find extremely difficult, if not impossible, to reduce to anything like rules.</p>

<p>Good photos should be evocative of feeling, passion, awe, pathos, or something else quite intangible and possibly impossible to define--something that touches the soul. If there is a rulebook for that, I wold like to see it.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

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<p>Fred, I did not see your posting while I was typing. Having now read your post, I might have to back off somewhat, given what you have said, but I stand by the general thrust of the distinction that I was trying to make.</p>

<p>I do think that this thread has ultimately come back around to many of the same issues that were implicit in <a href="/casual-conversations-forum/00csrZ"><em><strong>Erica's thread.</strong></em></a></p>

<p>After all, to say that something is a "good photograph" is to make an <em>aesthetic evaluation</em> that depends, yes, on technical proficiency, but typically on <em>something more</em> than mere technical proficiency.</p>

<p>The issue of whether there are rules for good photography still stands, but I confess that I have no idea what rules of aesthetic evaluation one might invoke (or deduce from) while actually shooting, or even preparing to shoot.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

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<p>The rules of photography are the sound of one hand clapping.</p>

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<p> <br>

I like that! <br>

<br>

It reminds me of the enigmatic quote: "<em>Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.</em>"<br>

<br>

(The quote is enigmatic because no one has been able to figure out who originally said it.)</p>

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<p>Faced with a subject of interest, I wish only to show it in some new or fresh manner, to make a visual statement that excites me and possibly others. I consider myself a link between it and a viewer. Even if I seek a process of communication, I am first and foremost photographing for my own pleasure and need. What do I see in the subject that is revealing of it or of something it can suggest through my image of it? Composition rules are useful at times but really of secondary importance overall.</p>

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<p>Always leave home with a freshly charged battery.</p>

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<p>Maybe I am blessed with little formal education; I know little rules, and out of the few I know, I reject some as being too rigid and anti-creative, and the rest are just little helpers, but not hard rules. Which helps, because while I am shooting, I want to have a clear and open mind on what I am seeing, and try to frame that in the way that seems best to me. Which often is the way "it struck me", so often those thoughts tend to be very quick too. When I'm out shooting, I want to be as free as possible to see. Not get dragged down in rules.</p>

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<p>I like each of these ideas, as well!</p>

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<p>Sure, sure...believe what you will.</p>

 

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<p>I will, and I do.</p>

 

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<p>Ironically, this sounds like one of those rules that don't exist.</p>

 

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<p>A reason is not a rule.</p>

 

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<p>More importantly, it's false. A forensic photo doesn't usually move human souls. It represents something, as accurately as possible. Now, a forensic photo might move the human soul in the way any stimulus would, but then that's just a fact of living and not a unique property of photos.</p>

 

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<p>It is hard to imagine something more compelling and moving then photos that document the violence and crime of one person against another, or one person against themselves. It is only through years of exposure to such things that we get jaded and turn off that part of us this is moved or effected by this. This is especially true of those in law enforcement or the criminal justice system. I dont quite understand how you attempt to separate the moving the human soul the way 'any stimulus' would and the way a crime scene photo would. They are in fact one in the same.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>David,</p>

<p>Can you name something we experience that doesn't move the human soul?</p>

<p>If you can't, or your list includes as much as mine, then a photo's moving the human soul is somewhat meaningless and trivial. Sure, it sounds grand to move the human soul but it's, IMO, really saying nothing. Since everything we experience, from children to pets to cars going by on the street to the local grocery-store owner to art to comedy to TV shows to playing games to walking to hiking to jumping to running to love to death to taking a good crap moves the human soul.</p>

<p>______________________________________________</p>

<p>Lannie,</p>

<p>I find articulation can be one (there are many more) means of helping me achieve aesthetic awareness and go deeper than technical concerns. Moving the human soul is a beginning only. For me, it would need to be fleshed out. I tend to get more specific and allow myself to feel something real and specific, something I can articulate with a photo. (That doesn't mean articulate in words. It means to express fluently and coherently.) What am I feeling at this moment of shooting? Or what does the scene feel like. Or what do I want the picture to feel like? In depth feelings. Nuanced feelings. Some degree of passion. Not a brush off like moving the human soul, which has no teeth to it, IMO. I mean, for example, dark sadness which might include a scream in the night or might include a bow to God. Or deep confusion which might cause me to shake my head or let my mind wander out of control. Metaphorical expressions of an almost infinite (and intimate) array of feelings. [This may or will not work for everyone. It's what I have to offer.]</p>

<p>And, importantly, I don't too much separate technical aspects from aesthetic ones. Mastering the technical aspects themselves is, again, a beginning. Learning how to use focus, to use exposure, to use depth of field, to use camera movement or panning or subject motion in order to express various things helps make me aware of how to use the various techniques I've learned to express what I might be feeling or what the scene or situation feels like or what the ultimate photo will feel like.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Lannie, to me your original distinction was quite clear, and I don't think you need to 'back off' a little because of what Fred wrote, because I think you're close to saying the same thing:</p>

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<p>(1) rules of technical expertise and (2) rules of aesthetic evaluation. I was thinking of the latter when I asked the question,<br>

..<br>

After all, to say that something is a "good photograph" is to make an <em>aesthetic evaluation</em> that depends, yes, on technical proficiency, but typically on <em>something more</em> than mere technical proficiency.</p>

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<p>The distinction between (1) and (2) isn't absolute and cannot be fully made, as (1) influences the outcome of (2). I think your original question made a more important distinction between "while shooting" and "afterwards". Making the aesthetic evaluation <em>while shooting</em> is actually in a way pre-visualising, which is harder than judging it afterwards. Especially with more hectic types of photogaphy (events, street, sports). And unlike the technical proficiency, it isn't easily learnt, but it's part experience, part critical evaluation (be it yourself, be it a mentor or critiques - but proper constructive criticism in my view is essential here), and part vision and being able to see. Being able to pre-visualise and understand the "graphic potential" of a scene is (in my opinion) a large step to that 'something more'. As said earlier, you can't fix a botched up composition afterwards, so it's key to get that right. And hence, it's key to learn how to do that as right as one can. </p>

<p>It's easy to dismiss the necessity of learning the technicalities. I hear and see enough hipsters who have no clue about exposure, "but it doesn't matter, because I am working creatively". I don't buy into it as a long-term strategy, so to speak. Technical proficiency is a pillar on which to build the rest; something to get under your belt and work from there. It's equally easy to dismiss rules, or even the existence of any rules. But even with the limited knowledge I have around them, the few I know have been helpful and most useful - but not by applying them, but by considering them.<br>

They do not make a photo better, nor must they be obeyed. But they've got a basis, and as a starting point to learn and gain experience, they serve their purpose. Breaking the rules or ignoring the rules should be a considered decision (despite those claiming otherwise and stating to be correct). Not because the rules are right, but because they help you frame your decisions, and can help you give insight into how you perceive a composition, how your pre-visualised ideas take shape. Realise how you analyse elements in a scene and how they interact, the message that follows from that and so on (writing about it takes much longer than the actual split second thinking, though learning it is taken me much much longer still and so far).<br>

Knowing more about that doesn't ruin the creativity, but in my view rather enhances it as it becomes a process you can do in awareness. Even while shooting; and while I'm no master at it (not by a long shot), it does enable me to evaluate a scene, understand what I want from it, and move over to the viewpoint I want, focal length I want, and aperture and time already set to what I need. Before I grab my camera. So, being more aware actually helps me free up my mind, and raise my attention.<br>

Follow the rules? No. Consider them and at times play according to them? Absolutely. Learn more of them and about them? Always.</p>

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<p>Here are a couple of rules that would increase aesthetic appreciation. "Shoot during magic hour." "Use back lighting". If you shoot landscapes during the day, flat light can be thoroughly boring and the picture loses its impact. Good lighting adds to awe, its "eye candy" that stimulates the senses and soul. </p>

<p>Here's a picture at the bottom of my screen that caught my attention while I was typing this. It is beautifully done by Wouter. If you read the comments by the viewers, you see how the lighting brought aesthetic and emotional feelings to them. http://www.photo.net/photo/10462187 If Wouter didn't consider the "rules", and shot this at noon without the back lighting, would you get the same feeling? </p>

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<p>I don't too much separate technical aspects from aesthetic ones. Mastering the technical aspects themselves is, again, a <strong>beginning</strong>. Learning how to use focus, to use exposure, to use depth of field, to use camera movement or panning or subject motion in order to express various things helps make me aware of how to use the various techniques I've learned to express what I might be feeling or what the scene or situation feels like or what the ultimate photo will feel like. --Fred G.</p>

<p>It's easy to dismiss the necessity of learning the technicalities. I hear and see enough hipsters who have no clue about exposure, "but it doesn't matter, because I am working creatively". I don't buy into it as a long-term strategy, so to speak. Technical proficiency is<strong> a pillar on which to build the rest</strong>; something to get under your belt and work from there. --Wouter Willemse</p>

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<p>Yes, Fred and Wouter, techniques are a "beginning" and "a pillar on which to build the rest."</p>

<p>I have bold-faced the critical words and phrases so that casual reader might see immediately the primary points being claimed--and their similarity. Of course, these "beginnings" never cease throughout the creative process. Yet, yet, they are not the core of the creative process. At least, I do not think that they are. That said, I do not want to try to push them outside of that process. I am finally, however, more interested in what Wouter succinctly but powerfully calls "the rest."</p>

<p>The word "inspiration" keeps coming back into my consciousness. Whatever it ultimately means (not something I want to get into here), that which inspires is often what redeems a photo, that which gives it life and meaning and purpose. Or, at least, so I would like to think. . . .</p>

<p>Any claim that one makes here about the "creative spark" is apt to be a gross over-simplification. Yet, yet, I have no doubt but that some such "spark" exists, and that it is often, if not always, the driving force that pulls all of the technical skills together to produce an outcome that has the power to move, to evoke, alas, yes, even to inspire.</p>

<p>Then again, there are those captures that manage to do all of this by seeming chance, without any particular inspiration or even awareness on the part of the photographer. . . .</p>

<p>In any case, reflections on that "elusive something" of the creative mind or spirit are what inspired this thread. Whatever it is, the "elusive something" certainly is not reducible to any rules that I can find. I do not know why I can stumble onto a scene and say to myself "I have to capture this!" Inevitably I change it (my original vision) in the process of trying to capture it, but the initial vision is often what stays with me as I try either to replicate it or go beyond it. This occurred to me most recently with<a href="/photo/17878380"><strong><em> this shot </em></strong></a>and the two that immediately follow it in the same folder (shot less than a week ago). My repeated shutter clicks and post-processing efforts are a witness to my failure(s) to capture the mood or feeling, but also my sense of urgency in trying to do so. There is always that lingering "something" that impels one to want to go back and "get it right." I had first tried to shoot <a href="/photo/17863756"><em><strong>essentially this same scene</strong></em></a> a few days earlier. I still don't have it right. (I first saw the scene at night some months ago.)</p>

<p>Now, technique as well as time and change are all interwoven in all of these attempts. I would not want to segregate technique and place it out to the side somewhere. Technical expertise is indeed integral to the process, and thanks to both of you for emphasizing that.</p>

<p>Yet, yet, that vision, that image in the mind's eye. . . Where on earth does<em> that</em> come from? Where and how does one get that "eye" on those occasions when one really does get it, whether one has the technical expertise to show it to others, or not?</p>

<p>What<em> is</em> "the eye," after all? Again I say, it is not reducible to rules.<br /> <br /> --Lannie</p>

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<p>If I were to keep making it elusive, it would remain elusive. That's why I tried to put some teeth into it in my post, the part that didn't have to do with technique. Significant art has a tangibilizing effect. It is a way of taking what is or seems intangible and <em>making it into something</em>, the photo, the painting, etc. The magician knows, to a great extent, how he performs his tricks and the artist knows, to at least some extent, how he makes his art, IMO. Inspiration is that extra bit more. But it takes a lot more than technical proficiency and inspiration to make art. That's why I talked about <em>articulating</em> deep and specific feelings. Inspiration is not terribly specific. Technical awareness and inspiration may be necessary, but they are not sufficient.</p>

<p>Alan has a good idea there. I like to look at photos that move me and figure out just how I do feel and what about them is moving me. That's why I do so much in-depth critiquing here. As much for me as for the photographer. The more I critique, in detail, naming feelings I get and the reasons why, the more I can "critique" a subject or scene almost instantaneously when I have my camera with me, and see it as a potential photo, and know in my heart what feelings this scene or the photo could capture or bring forth and feel almost instantaneously what I have to do as photographer to express those feelings.</p>

<p>Inspiration is a funny thing. When I practice my scales on the piano, I can become terribly inspired, just feeling my fingers move a certain way without even making music. Practicing taking pictures with flash and slow shutter speeds was one of my most inspiring photographic experiences. I tend not to look for inspiration up in the elusive ozone but rather right down here on Earth.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Lannie, that shot you're working on presents a huge technical problem, if you're trying to replicate what your eye actually saw and what your mind's eye envisioned. Of course, you start out with the dynamic range that your camera is NOT capable of replicating without multi-shot HDR, or other techniques. There are color balance issues caused by the artificial light and then there's getting the composition where your want it, with not only the elements in the correct spots, per your eye, but also at the right levels of darkness and light within those areas.</p>

<p>So, you've an aesthetic vision with several technical road blocks to achieving that vision. This is a perfect example of "rules" getting in the way. For example, how do you get the dynamic range that you envision. How do you adjust levels up and down within the image without adding too much noise or losing desired sharpness when applying noise reduction. There were several options on how to capture this image (multi-shot HDR, high-ISO, low-ISO with tripod, long exposure, graduated filter, etc.) To make the best choices, you had to have your final vision in mind and an awareness of the limitations of your camera and your Raw converter. You also needed post-processing knowledge.</p>

<p>BTW, I'd consider converting that particular image to B&W, starting with a multi-shot bracket.</p>

<p>It's not an image where you just point your camera, delete it or love it.</p>

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<blockquote>

<p>When I practice my scales on the piano, I can become terribly inspired, just feeling my fingers move a certain way without even making music. Practicing taking pictures with flash and slow shutter speeds was one of my most inspiring photographic experiences. I tend not to look for inspiration up in the elusive ozone but rather right down here on Earth.</p>

 

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<p>Thank you, Fred. You are right, of course. There is something about the doing of photography--even at the most fundamental levels, perhaps especially at the most fundamental levels--that reminds us all over again that this magic is right here in our hands, and not merely in our minds or souls.</p>

<p>One of the more "inspirational" moments I have had recently involved taking multiple shots of my same old tired test subjects--while playing with exposure compensation. I think that every improvement in our technical skills reminds us as to what we can do better next time--and impels or inspires us to want to go out and try. The very facility of doing these "photographic <em>études</em>" also gives us confidence and opens new creative possibilities--and we see this most forcefully when we are actually shooting and getting rapid feedback. There is something about repetitive patterns and variations which gives us renewed appreciation of what is possible.</p>

<p>Improvisations, improvisations. . .</p>

<p>J.S. Bach and Henri Cartier-Bresson might have had a lot more in common than they could possibly have imagined.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

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<p>How do you adjust levels up and down within the image without adding too much noise or losing desired sharpness when applying noise reduction? There were several options on how to capture this image (multi-shot HDR, high-ISO, low-ISO with tripod, long exposure, graduated filter, etc.) To make the best choices, you had to have your final vision in mind and an awareness of the limitations of your camera and your Raw converter. You also needed post-processing knowledge.</p>

<p>BTW, I'd consider converting that particular image to B&W, starting with a multi-shot bracket.</p>

<p>It's not an image where you just point your camera, delete it or love it.</p>

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<p>David, I had no idea what I was getting myself into on that one, although I know full well the challenges that can come with shooting at night. I have tried a lot of things both in the shooting process and in post--and it is a real learning experience. I would like to see what a truly technically gifted person might be able to pull out of some of the files that I captured--not to mention shots of their own. I have not yet exhausted my own bag of tricks. Trying to use Curves, Levels, and even the Shadows/Highlights filter have made infinite variations possible. As for variations in ISO, that goes with night-time photography. It never stops. . . .</p>

<p>I am very happy for the night I drove up that little street months ago and happened to see that huge tank looming over and behind that house. That is now what I want to shoot for a while, or at least until the leaves come off the trees and give me another very different challenge entirely in the same setting. I have several shots around town that I keep saying that I want to try--and in some cases I hav been saying that for years. I am very glad that I finally went out one night and simply tried to get that particular subject, although I had no idea what I was getting myself into--and I have no idea what I myself might finally pull out of it as I learn more.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

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<p>I like the idea of "photographic etudes". When I practice fundamentals on my trumpet, even after fifty-four years I still practice them, I listen for tone, perfectly centered pitch, execution of a variety of articulations. After all these decades, I still have to make certain that I'm breathing correctly and fully and deeply and that my attacks are on-pitch, with no scooping in or diving off notes as I go from one to the other. Once I've anchored myself into classic performance, then I'm free to move into jazz interpretation where I intentionally do slide into notes, pinch notes, play half-valve, doink, alter the rhythm, alter the chord, etc., etc. I "hear" a sound in my head and then try to replicate it on the horn.</p>

<p>I've known jazz players that can't play a scale cleanly and classically to save their lives. They "swing" everything, for example. OTOH, I've know classical players that can't swing to save their lives. Still, I've known players that do either with equal facility, at professional levels.</p>

<p>There's a similar discussion amongst musicians about "can you teach jazz?" I think the answer is, "Yes, you can, but not to everybody." Of course, you can't teach classical playing to everyone either. Just like photographers, musicians have technical elements to overcome whether they're playing classical, jazz or both. Getting a "pleasing" tone is a problem for many. A very few, extraordinary players, like Don Cherry, never have a pleasing tone, but they make pleasing music, at least in the ears of a few dedicated free jazz lovers. Most jazz greats have pleasing tones (Armstrong, Miles, Dizzy, Wynton, Hargrove, etc.). ALL classical players have pleasing tones, because the big orchestras allow for very little variance. If you compare over a century of time, you will note changes in classical performance standards, but year to year you'll hear very little variance. Generally, only trumpet players can distinguish classical orchestral players by their tone (my wife can identify a couple).</p>

<p>Anyway, my point is that there are parallels to every musical situation and interpretation with photography. Many of us start like the classical trumpeter, working within a highly structured framework, making music, but struggling with nuance to make our interpretation sound the best possible. Others start out just listening to others, perhaps imitating that for a while, but quickly moving toward playing what's in our head, without necessarily even knowing what we're playing. Most musicians and, I think, most photographers are somewhere in the middle of this very wide range. Most are seeking their own voice, but can be doing so with very different approaches.</p>

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<p>Some thoughts about catching and recording inspiration. Unlike painters who can move their spirit to the canvas with paint, we photographers are limited to drawing reality. We are stuck with what's before us. We have to find inspiration for the most part in what we see and not from the mind's eye. This is what makes photography so hard. Most people think that you just snap the picture and that's it. Anyone can do that. That why all those D810 and Mark III shots are so ho hum. And all the fancy footwork of PS and our brilliant computers that we spend too much time on figuring they will produce the next masterpiece doesn't work. Trying to find the inspired shot from within all the debris that is before our eyes is extremely difficult. </p>

<p>One of the related problems is the brain can be inspired by what it sees even through the noise. It eliminates those damn telephone lines in front of a beautiful landscape while the photo highlights them interrupting our reverie. Cameras are stupid in that sense, and totally uninspired. Paint brushes seem to be smarter and have a soul. We have to be able to transfer how the brain works to a two dimensional image shrunk to odd ball borders. All while trying to capture only those parts of the scene in a compositional perspective that would be magical to see. </p>

<p>Finally, I don't think we should be too hard on ourselves. How many paintings do you see that inspire you? I mean even if you go to a museum? Mostly you'll admit to, "nice", or "OK pretty good." Very few do your eyes light up and heart skip a beat with a sense of awe and grace. Likewise with photos. Plus it gives us something to strive for. If we were to do it every other shot, photography would become very boring, with little more reason to accomplish anything else with it. So be happy with that occasional shot that makes you happy you created it. And others can pat you on the back acknowledging it touched them as well. I know I have to learn how to be and feel like that more often.</p>

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<p>Lannie, I quite like the photo as presented in the first link (the version III). Indeed maybe in B&W it would gain a bit in making itself clear, but possibly loose something of the atmosphere. And there is a certain atmosphere in the shot - a tenderness in the light that's hard to capture, easy to loose and to me among the best things that can happen to a photo.<br>

Yes, it has to break one of those rules: "maintain shadow detail and donot clogg up the shadows, don't blow your highlights, keep a well balanced histogram". None of that for situations as these, in my view. Night photos are much about deep shadows - it's what the time of day looks like ideally. Don't try to lift the shadows because it will only upset the balance, and reduce the softness glow-like nature of the light to something mundane. What the rules are worth, indeed ;-) Or maybe I am just saying this because all of my night photos look that way, and I like 'm that way, and I shoot loads of them too....</p>

 

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<p>I like to look at photos that move me and figure out just how I do feel and what about them is moving me.</p>

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<p>This is, in my view, the kind of exercise that taught me more than most things. I'm sure I praised the book before, but '<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Photographers-Eye-Composition-Digital/dp/0240809343">The Photographer's Eye</a>' made me look at photos more communicational-analytical, in the way Fred described, finding elements, shapes, colours that work for me, compositions that work etc, and identify what doesn't really work for me, understanding how those choices affect the message I get. With a lot of rinse and repeat, I think I know really start to get the benefits from these exercises. It's what I tried to describe before: enter a place, see its potential and (often nearly instant) get an idea for a viable approach.<br>

Of course it's a hit and miss affair still, and it'll remain that for a long while. But "seeing" can be learnt to some extend (if you're willing to see and analyse); exercise and repeating works. Not only "real" etudes, but also just without a camera. Remember which time of the day the light works, or doesn't. Try to frame at a specific focal length, imagine the choice for aperture. And a next time, make that photo. Sharpen the eye to know what it'll look like more or less. A bit Winogrand: see what it looks like photographed. Be curious about how even the most mundane thing can be depicted interesting, and the most glorious nullified. I think as a side effect, it made me look at anything with much more attention - a self-serving circle.<br>

Some rules for getting this into your system, as some sort of "default thought process" don't hurt at all, they give a framework. I found the rule of thirds useful for this, becomes it makes me consider placement of items; where do I want what, which direction should it all take, etc.<br>

So, what is the "rest" I talked about earlier, the thing you pile upon that pillar? That's you yourself, I'd say. Everything what you bring in - your approach, your vision, your idea, your curiosity and interests, and how you want to share this.</p>

<p>At the risk of becoming very verbose, one more bit. This is a part where the rules have another use: they are what your audience more or less expects. It's like writing in a passable grammar, a bit formal and no complicated constructs. It's very accessible and understandable visual language. People will get the point. Move away from those rules, and you may start to write poetry, or gibberish, or both depending on who you ask. This is why I said earlier that I feel breaking the rules should be a considered choice, and not just a fake rebel attitude about not caring about them.</p>

<p>To use music (while we're at it): if Mozart wrote <a href="

and you play it at hyperspeed, hammering the keys, people will be perplxed. It may work, it may not work - that depends an awful lot on your creative skill. If you play it like in the link, it will be what people expected. They'll like it, but they'll be less surprised. A bit run of the mill, but your technical abilities will have more room to shine, but making your creative performance stand out is harder (instead, you play by the rules).<br>

Which performance would be remembered most? Which performance would be more likely to be seen as insightfull, craftsmenship etc.?<br>

That's the rest - you, playing with your audience. The choices are endless, there are no real rights or wrongs, but some choices are likely to be less understood than others. How much one cares about that, is also a choice. And the complex of those choices, for me, make me consider to which extend I'll play according to the rules. Just in the same way you adapt your choice of words depending on a personal letter, a blogpost or a business email.</p>

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<blockquote>

<p>Unlike painters who can move their spirit to the canvas with paint, we photographers are limited to drawing reality. We are stuck with what's before us. We have to find inspiration for the most part in what we see and not from the mind's eye. . . . And all the fancy footwork of PS and our brilliant computers that we spend too much time on figuring they will produce the next masterpiece doesn't work.</p>

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<p>I agree that there are differences between painting and photography. But I disagree with the overall message in this paragraph and, as importantly, I think there are many similarities between painting and making photos that can be understood and utilized to great creative advantage.</p>

<p>I never have to be stuck with what's before me, though sometimes it feels that way. I know that I can transform whatever's before me via my camera, how I shoot, and my post processing. My mind's eye is constantly at work, looking for realities that I can transform into a finished photo, which is quite a process, not simply accomplished in the snap of a shutter, for me. I will determine the depth of field which will immediately change the reality before me. I will adjust exposure to suit my emotional feel for the scene. I may or may not add flash or fill light, which isn't part of what the scene itself in reality had to offer. I may pan with my camera, shoot at a slow shutter speed to get motion blur, adopt an extreme perspective or frame with a particular view toward altering the scene.</p>

<p>The "fancy footwork" of PS is, in fact, comparable to the brushstrokes of the painter. This is often where the magic happens and, like a painter who spends days or weeks refining those strokes—getting the textures just right, getting the colors that suit his mood or the mood of the scene, building up his layers of paint slowly and passionately—I get much pleasure and often results I'm moved by from those hours spent post processing. Were I to look at post processing as somehow extraneous to the photographic process, I might only then consider it superfluous fancy footwork that's merely trying to improve on a mediocre shot to begin with. Post processing can certainly be used to try to put lipstick on a pig (often unsuccessfully) but, IMO, it shouldn't be reduced to that or its potential could be completely missed. For me, refusing to embrace post processing would be comparable to the painter saying that once the paint is on the canvass it would be cheating to go over that spot again. <br>

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I've become a much better photographer (which includes the entirety of the process from thinking in advance to post processing and even presentation) since I learned to think more like a painter.<br>

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<p>One of the related problems is the brain can be inspired by what it sees even through the noise. It eliminates those damn telephone lines in front of a beautiful landscape while the photo highlights them interrupting our reverie.</p>

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<p>This is an interesting point and is very well put. It's important to note and is one of the unique things about photography. At the same time, I'm aware that a lot of the better photographers don't see a lot of so-called distractions as noise. They see them as potential. There is as much to gain from looking at telephone wires as a way to enhance the emotional and graphical impact of a photo as looking at how to avoid them. What may seem like a distraction to the naked eye in real time can become a significant element of a framed two-dimensional rendering.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>I think that the word "rules" is a misleading or inappropriate word, even in everyday shooting as the OP indicates, although the concept of rules does mirror much of the need and attitude of assuredness so precious in our organised societies. Although Lannie may not be thinking that, it seems to suggest that if you follow certain technical or aesthetic proven guidelines you will necessarily create a forceful image. Not really so. Such guidelines are part of the education of a creative person but do not in themselves guarantee a creative product.</p>

<p>The artistic chef knows that certain food elements have certain properties that can contribute to a successful dish, that certain elements go well together and others don't, that certain manipulations (cutting, mixing, temperature, time, cooling, aging, etc.) will add to those combinations, but until he explores and experiments with the process he has not created anything except for something that may look good on paper. All he has learned (education, experience, mistakes, successes) about the properties of food and its modification can be brought to bear when he attempts something original. Some guidelines he may well follow to some degree, while others he will dismiss as inappropriate or wrong in the situation.</p>

<p>Art and photography are not dissimilar. Guidelines derive from our education of art and the art of an image, of our gained ability to manipulate the image making process (at exposure or post exposure), of our desire and ability to take lessons from museum and exhibition visits, lessons of critiquing our own work and that of others (as Fred aptly says), of our experience in creating images that adhere to our plan, our use of feedback from images which fail, our instinct or spontaneous revelation (that punctum that spontaneously suggests to the photographer - "yes, this is what you must try, what you must do, now!" "And do it before you forget it or miss the opportunity").</p>

<p>How you use and benefit from the creative process is of greatest importance. It goes much beyond the education, experience and guidelines ("rules") you have acquired. An instinctive photo is really often more than just that. Just like the acknowledged split second play out of an otherwise seemingly lengthy dream you may have before awakening, the rare instinctive action is an accelerated deployment of much the photographer knows and has already experienced, and which is brought to bear on the problem rapidly, often unconsciously. Additionally, the researching, planning, and iterative approach to creative image-making, which accounts for a larger number of creative hits, also uses the art knowledge and photographing experience of the image-maker. These too go well beyond the guidelines or "rules" themselves.</p>

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