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Real world imperfections and aesthetics


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I think of Warhol, who always seemed to me pretty comfortable in his zone. Warhol's art may have been, among other

things, about getting viewers and audiences out of their comfort zones, not so much about him getting out of his.

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p><a href="http://www.onbeing.org/program/frank-wilczek-why-is-the-world-so-beautiful/8565">Nobel physicist Frank Wilczek</a> interviewed by Krista Tippett, my transcription beginning about 9:12 into the episode where Wilczek expounds on our being accomplished practitioners of projective geometry:</p>

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<p>Humans do an astonishing feat routinely and very quickly. That is, they interpret the messages coming through little little openings in their eyes and projected on a two dimensional screen - the retina at the back - which then the light gets turned into electrical signals. And from that crazy, scrambled encoding we reconstruct an external world of three dimensional objects in space. We recognize that if we move our heads they're still the same objects and we determine these effortlessly.</p>

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<p>So our 2 dimensional sensors, our retinas, provide sensory data in the form of 'flat' electrical signals from which the brain creates 3D visual representations, an interpretation. A photograph is then a 2D representation of a 3D representation of what biologically will always to us be 2D sensory data hitting our retinas. That distinction is somewhat trivial given how well vision works. My point in bringing it up is to emphasize how deeply interpretation is linked to sense perception.</p>

<p>I like <a href="

Tan's Ted Talk</a> on creativity. About 5:30 into the talk she discusses herself as a writer who delivers a narrative world within the pages of a book. So too a photograph captures its author's narration.</p>

<p>Tan also considers that, in her writing process, the more she focuses on what a story is about the more the story becomes only what the story is <em>about</em>, such excessive focus on "what it's about" dampening Tan's creative writing process.</p>

<p>Tan also offers that she creates a world in a novel and offers that she develops a cosmology for the narrative universe she creates. Regarding arriving at a cosmology of her created universes, 6:23 into the talk she says "And you see there's a lot of back and forth in trying to make that happen, trying to figure it out. Years and years often times."</p>

<p>Supriyo "I feel I am a minority in thinking that blemishes and imperfections could be aesthetic elements. Is that a true feeling?"</p>

<p>It's an interesting feeling, true enough. Where will that feeling lead you and will it be exciting as you develop your own cosmological interpretations photographically? How are we to interpret our worlds?</p>

<p>I drifted away from photography when I got a second dog. My wildlife/bird subjects would flit off before I could stand the tripod and settle two dogs. I then started hand tool woodworking and took a couple years of Sunday classes at community college. The first aesthetic dilemma I ran across was similar to that raised in the OP.</p>

<p>I wanted a uniform clear finish, whether an oil, varnish, shellac. Some species, like cherry, don't take such finishes uniformly and there are ways to treat raw wood such that absorption of a clear coat is more uniform, less blotchy. But an aesthetic question. Is blotch really blotch, or is blotch really 'character'. At first I was appalled by the person who posed that question to me. Later I came to like character in finished wood. Wood isn't uniform, it's a mess and interpreting a piece of wood is part of the creative process. How to frame it, how use reveals as design elements for show.</p>

<p>Now I'm getting active in photographs again, partly because I want to integrate a photo with a wooden frame I design and make for a photo. It fun playing with a photograph and customizing a frame for it, where the frame becomes part of a narrated world I author.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>I think you are taking it to the extreme. E.g. I am not asking models to forego makeups, but wondering whether portraits have to be perfect. Whether that pimple on a person's face must be removed in photoshop.</p>

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<p>Only you can decide, and if you are shooting for a client, they may have some say as well. Are you asking for some rule or guideline or permission to justify you aesthetic decisions? Its kind of an open ended question with no right answer. </p>

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<p>I think you are taking it to the extreme.</p>

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<p>Even when some people are right, they can't help always taking it to extremes. It's called <em><strong>Reductio ad absurdum.</strong></em><br>

Don't worry about it or the manipulation.</p>

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<p>Supriyo, a tangent question for you (I'm genuinely interested to hear your response): have you considered that "imperfections," this "garbage," might be <em>particularly</em> interesting to you? Not just an equal partner in the image, but something more than that, a <em>key</em> part of it?</p>

<p>Photography is about fixing a moment, and the content that's "not garbage" is going to be that which has some permanence or some sense of belonging in that fixed state. What does not "belong"; what is transient, fights fixing, fights what a photograph does and therefore is a seed of irritation and <em>attraction</em>. The mind worries it, tries to conform it or get rid of it. If it doesn't "make sense" it remains independent, wild ...</p>

<p>This quote from Giacometti gets to the issue of impermanence and picturing:<br /> .</p>

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<p>... I see it as if it disappeared ... reappeared ... disappeared ... In other words, it really always is between being and not being. And this is what we want to copy ... All the trajectory of modern artists lies in the will to capture, to possess something which is consistently fleeing.</p>

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<p>.</p>

<p>I would suggest that "garbage" is "something which is consistently fleeing." It does not stay.</p>

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<p>Phil, Fred,<br>

Thank you very much for the essay on Grossage's Pond and the ensuing discussion. When I started the thread, I thought of imperfections as an enhancing element that could make an otherwise picture-perfect image lively. You have brought the concept of including garbage as a key element in it's own right, to reflect an irony as discussed in Robert Adam's essay. In such scenarios, garbage is the antagonist (and through it the human civilization), nature the protagonist. My thought is somewhere a middle ground. I don't want to distinguish nature from civilization (we are all products of evolution). I accept the fact that in their struggle to coexist, both will clash with one another and such clashes are unavoidable even if man uses his higher consciousness to mitigate such battles to some degree. I think, the real world in which we live, there coexists the artifacts of civilization along with pristine natural beauty and isolating one from the other could be artificial depending on the context. It is something I feel when seeing certain photos of my own, and it made me think.</p>

<p>I am not discounting photos that show pristine nature without distractions and I very much appreciate those images. I just think, including imperfections (or man made artifacts) in nature photos could invoke a different sense of empathy that is more akin to a living breathing world of which we are part of. Serine nature is sort of timeless, and you could lose the feeling of being contemporary. I think many will consider this a radical statement, and I don't mean to say that all nature or landscape photos should include artifacts. It is just an idea that I am considering.</p>

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<p>Charles,<br /> I think we are on the same line of thinking. In your case, it is the ruggedness of the wood that imparts 'character'. In my case, inclusion of imperfections could potentially introduce that character. What is character? It is the property that imparts individuality over what is considered the canonical look. When we see a landscape photo for instance, we expect it to be pristine, symmetric (with exceptions of course). My idea is to include what is usually left out from the traditional boundaries of framing to impart character to the otherwise canonical view.</p>

<p>A very important bottomline is, it all depends on the context.</p>

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<p>What others think of as distraction or non-harmonious composition, I find endearing and adding to the story.</p>

 

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<p>That is so often the case, Fred, and definitely the case in the photo you posted. The area on the right does add to the photo, which was truly great to begin with.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

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<p>Julie,<br>

I like your comment very much. While replying to you, I realized that I have discussed things in response to Phil and Fred that could be relevant here, for instance:</p>

<p>"I just think, including imperfections (or man made artifacts) in nature photos could invoke a different sense of empathy that is more akin to a living breathing world of which we are part of. Serine nature is sort of timeless, and you could lose the feeling of being contemporary."<br>

<br>

The imperfections are thus reminder that we are a fleeting entity in this timeless natural setting.<br>

<br>

However this sense of "fleeting" doesn't have to be the only feeling for all images. For example, when I think of my old neighborhood in India where I was born, garbage on street is a natural occurrence. It was there for a long time before I was born, and I presume it will be there in future too (hopefully at a reduced scale). So while photographing such a neighborhood, inclusion of garbage could also indicate a continuity and with it an assurance of the familiar cycle of daily life. At the same time, it would also portray a sense of 'fleeting', an uncontrollable element as you mentioned.</p>

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<p>Supriyo, if you read these lines, from a love poem (I hope you don't mind love poems ...):<br>

.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>But always I saw myself walking toward you,<br>

as a drop of water touching the earth immediately<br>

turns toward the sea. — <em>Stephen Dobyns</em></p>

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<p>.<br>

Do you understand that kind of helplessness, "as a drop of water touching the earth immediately / turns toward the sea'? Have you felt that in your own life, whether from love or hate or other forces much larger than you, over which you have no control? Isn't that <em>most</em> of what provokes, motivates, compels one throughout a life?</p>

<p>To include acknowledgement of those invasive uncontrollable forces in your pictures is to include a fullness and richness of <em>life</em>.</p>

<p>On the other hand, a picture that excludes all over which the maker had no control, which claims full control, whether flexibly or not, ignores any suggestion or inclusion of those forces which are greater than the maker of the picture, of that which escapes control. Their drops of water do not turn toward the sea.</p>

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<p>Manmade features can complement landscape photography. Not sure these work, but I thought so when I shot them.</p>

<p><img src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2147/5721232348_141fdc2fa2.jpg" alt="" width="470" height="500" /></p>

<p><img src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/7/6073/6151917198_fdd119a602.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p>

 

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<p>Not only manmade features, Alan—and I like the second one a lot, with the two chairs . . . nice scene and suggestibility by the chairs—but also camera-made features in the first one, which is the purple tree shadow on the snow! ;-)</p>

<p>[The latter is not a criticism, by the way, in case you might take it that way. It actually goes well with the photo but it's an interesting twist on the topic in that it's an addition but not one put into the scene, only into the picture of the scene!]</p>

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

<p>forces much larger than you, over which you have no control? Isn't that <em>most</em> of what provokes, motivates, compels one throughout a life?</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Who knows? I suppose each of us would have to answer that for ourselves. And regardless of how we answer that, it may or may not be what one wants one's picture-making to be about.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Thanks Fred for your comments. I really should have toned down blue (purple) in post processing which is always a problem in shadows especially with Velvia 100 film. On the other hand, in winter scenes where you're trying to show freezing conditions, leaving the blue psychologically makes the picture look colder. If you turn it to gray, the picture warms up. Blue isn't required in this scene, but might work in others. In keeping with this thread, this is the kind of "artificial" element that can effect the interpretation of a picture.</p>

<p>Let me mention in fairness that shadows where there are blue skies are in-fact bluer even in real life. But just with other things the brain dismisses, the bluing is dismissed psychologically by the eye but not when its recorded by a camera. </p>

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<p>Julie,<br>

Thank you for the little poem and the adjoining insight. Your description reminds me of the phenomenon of natural diffusion where every molecule dances and bounces randomly, but all of them moves in a definite direction. I get the point - including uncontrollable quirks could instill a sense of dynamics in a picture which otherwise can feel lifeless. This is very much in line with what I was thinking, and you have reflected on it from an unique perspective.</p>

<p>I think, using the elements of randomness or chaos to impart a sense of liveliness stands on a very fine balance between fullness and inharmony. Also the challenge is that while the idea is very sensible, the implementation could be subjective.</p>

<p>However, that said, I think flawless symmetry is also a very powerful element for portraying dynamics. This simulated image of a <a href="http://nanochop.lgcgroup.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/Carbon-nanotube_000015223149Medium.jpg">carbon nanotube</a> is probably a good example.</p>

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<p>Alan,<br>

Thank you for the nice examples. Your first image could serve as an example of what Julie was suggesting, the uncontrollable quirks of everyday life. My eye is immediately drawn to the small traffic cone without losing the sense of serenity in the atmosphere. It is as if the red cone is purposeless, yet so bold and deliberate. The relative dimension of the cone with respect to the trees gives a sense of space and perspective. Great idea.</p>

<p>The second image shows a sense of harmony and nostalgia, and also a sense of loneliness. The chairs blend very well with the landscape and I see no sense of imperfection or inharmony here.</p>

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<p>Fred,<br>

I agree that the roughness of the texture of the garbage bin in contrast with the sleekness of the vegetation gives a sense of cacophony, if thats what you are seeing here. The harsh light also probably highlights the rough texture.</p>

<p>When I took this photo, I liked that the garbage bin was sitting happily among a bed of wild flowers and how the flowers embraced it and made it their own. Non one gives a second look at a garbage bin. It reflects so many individuals who nobody cares for, but still they have their places in this world.</p>

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<p>Perhaps a good example of someone who makes important landscape and industrial photos is Edward Burtynsky. They are often of good composition or unusual perspective on his subjects and the inclusion of some elements is not meant to idealize the image, which I think adds credit to his approach and work. </p>

<p>I once showed the following photograph and was quite surprised that a few comments related to a very minor element in the image, the briefcase or small valise at the foot of a secondary subject (The comments were made in a forum the reference to which I have mislaid). To me they were interesting comment sand I thanked the commenters, but it remained in my mind a non issue, in fact I even regard it as a minor positive addition to the dynamics of the varied human gathering in the image.</p>

<p>http://www.photo.net/photo/11472734</p>

<p>Another thing I find too "perfect" is the oftimes suggestion that I should reframe my principal subject to comply with some pre-conceived rule of thirds, or the like. Yes, the ancient concept of the "golden triangle" is an established trigger of perceived aesthetic harmony, but it should be employed I think only in the images where it's effect is high value-added, and not just automatically. </p>

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<p>That's what I meant in response to the OP when I said that there's a difference between the subject photographed ( which may be imperfect ) and the photograph as subject ( which always strives towards an ideal, an intention ).</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Which can't be reverse engineered, dissected and applied to one's own way of photographing a subject from inspiration by another's work. I don't understand why other photographers think they can learn something from looking at other photographers photos they admire just from merely viewing their body of work. There are those that can copy another photographer's image exactly through reconstruction of the scene, maybe using the same equipment and processing, but they will never be able to copy their intent and way of looking and interpreting the world. </p>

<p>A photographer can spend hours looking and composing for a subject to photograph derived from inspiration from another photographer's work and yet if the results do not seem as a moment's thought, all the stitching and unstitching as been for naught. The photographer has to find their own way of seeing and interpreting the world and convey that in their own images. </p>

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<p>To me, imperfection is a recognition or inclusion or <em>celebration</em> of the photographer's <em>knowing</em> that he doesn't really know what's there. That he <em>doesn't</em> have an interpretation; that he <em>doesn't</em> fully understand; that he <em>doesn't</em> have to understand in order to feel -- what's there and what he's offering to a viewer.</p>

<p>"Here I was roused to exultation ... I know not why, and not knowing why is most (if not <em>all</em>) of it's glory!" ... or something like that.</p>

<p>An unvarnished mess can be more powerful <em>because</em> it is an unvarnished mess, than a neat and tidy machine.<br /> .</p>

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<p>... I'd rather<br /> taste blood, yours or mine, flowing<br /> from a sudden slash, than cut all day<br /> with blunt scissors on dotted lines<br /> like the teacher told.</p>

<p>— <em>Adrienne Rich</em></p>

</blockquote>

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<p>So, it seems like a case is being made for "unvarnished messes" as the means for photographers not to know what's there and not to fully understand or interpret their work. It also seems like the only alternative to unvarnished messes are "neat and tidy machines."</p>

<p>The latter is false on its face. There's plenty of room between an unvarnished mess and a neat and tidy machine without needing to go to such extremes.</p>

<p>The former can be questioned with a good counterexample, of which there are too many to name all. Edward Weston's work could never be referred to as an unvarnished mess. It's pretty deliberate and neat yet still very open and offers the viewer and the photographer himself unlimited possibilities. That shadow on Charis Wilson's arm always bothered Weston even on a photo he otherwise so admired. Why? Because it messed things up in his mind, which was not a good thing in that instance.</p>

<p>Work messy sounds like a terrific way to break rules, which seems to be a wanna-be-artist mantra as one searches for a secret sauce to gain entry into the club. But, in fact, it falls flat when it just becomes another rule, another mantra, another way photographers who <em>really</em> want to be artists must now approach things as they ignore or revise history to suit their current agendas. </p>

<p>Weston, Bach, Mozart, Michelangelo, DaVinci were all ok knowing that art could have order and be just as effective as the more spontaneous and messy practitioners of their mediums.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Ansel Adams was renowned for his efforts to get to the right place, at the right time, with the right light, equipment, film, etc., and then manipulating his images to have them show the scene as he imagined/remembered it. He returned time and again to the same locations and subjects, looking to further perfect his work. And yet, some of his most famous images were captured in the moment, almost by happenstance (as in <strong><em>Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico,</em> 1941</strong>). Such images are only possible due to the experience, technical prowess, insight, and creative mastery obtained over a long period of time. Adams stated that it "combined serendipity and immediate technical recall." It is that mastery of one's craft that allows an accomplished photographer to both recognize and take advantage of the serendipitous opportunity, whatever the theme or subject.</p>
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