elsewhere…

I’ve been rather less wordy of late because I’ve jumped on to the photoblog bandwagon.

I thought I would give it a try as a wee project to pull together a collection of images of a certain kind that I find when I’m reviewing my stuff. It’s funny, because I don’t necessarily realise at the time of shooting that the images have that quality – but then they can jump out at me during the editing phase – sometimes even only on the second pass.

Anyway, I’ve recently had a lot more contact with groups of photographers who use a photoblog as a way of showing their images, so that they are posting at the most 1 per day, and it’s a one-shot-per-page setup so each image gets maximum attention. It seems to have an effect on the editing process when you’re not looking to get everything processed and uploaded in one batch, so I was interested to try it out and see what it does for my workflow.

So far, I’m really enjoying using it as a showcase for all of that kind of picture (I really need to find a name that accurately describes just what that is, but see the blog about page for the best explanation I’ve found so far) and it’s nice to keep them separate from everything else – by pulling them together in a collection of their own I hope to make their ethereal quality come across much stronger than if they were left to drown in a sea of randomness.

What I’m struggling with, though, is thinking of something to write beside each image. Someone mentioned it in a comment on a recent post here that it’s possibly no coincidence that we (photographers, that is) might struggle to communicate what we see in a picture in words – because let’s face it, if we could say it so well in words we’d have pens in our hands rather than cameras! But I do really want to accompany each shot with a few words, I find orphan images with no text very unsettling because I always feel like there is something the photographer could tell you, not to tell you what to see and override your own reactions to the image but to help you understand what they were doing with it, or something about their feelings about it or how they made it. I suppose it’s a very personal thing. So the words to accompany each shot on the blog quite often end up as rambling nonsense, but hopefully I’ll develop that skill over time, and in the meantime, the pictures can mostly speak for themselves.

brainstorming

I do have reservations about publicly stating my project ideas for sofobomo, but not for any reason like thinking that someone would steal them. I fully expect that however many good ideas I come up with, I won’t stick to any of them when it comes to the time. I desperately want to be able to think of something meaningful, multi-dimensional, that takes advantage of my photographic strengths and allows me to be able to maximise my actual shooting time by having it all planned out, but the sceond I commit to a predefined project, my muse scampers off into the distance.

But I’ve decided, anyway, to throw out a few ideas for two reasons:

- I might hit on something that I don’t necessarily use in that form, but it kicks off another idea that sort of forms along the way, which is how I generally work. It’s like planting seeds then leaving them to the rain and just seeing what grows.

- It might help to encourage others trying to think of their sofobomo project in that same way – not that they’d use the exact project, but it might give inspiration to something that works with their photographic strengths and way of working.

I suppose the other things I’m thinking about when I’m musing on what to do are questions like:

What do I want to get out of this?

Who is my audience – is it for me, or is it for me to communicate something to others?

How do I want to tie the images together – by subject, by idea or concept, by style or method of working, by location?

Do I want to split the book into sections or do I want the entire 35+ pictures to run on the same theme?

Do I want the presentation to somehow add to the project itself?

Do I want to include words or just images?

How personal do I want to make it?

Where do I want to spend my time shooting for the project – city, country, woods, mountains, gardens?

Do I want to vary the field of view or use that as a unifying theme – macro, wide, normal, telephoto?

What range of time do I want to spend shooting – lots of short bursts or one or two concentrated sessions?

These questions lead on to suggest more detailed questions – like a sort of imaginary flow chart in my head. An insight into my thought process:

Do I want to split the book into sections? 35 images doesn’t sound like much but when you’re trying to tie them all together, if you’re using a single subject it can easily get monotonous. What about splitting it up into sections? How many sections? Two, or 3 or 4 is enough. What could you use to split it into two sections? Day and night – black and white, dark and light, mono and colour, near and far, manmade and natural, big and small, old and new. Day and night might be good for a city centre based project. I’ve been thinking about shooting neon signs with the holga lens. Could I go back to the same scenes during the day, or would I be less specific about pairing them up? Would I split the book in two halves with all day shots together at the front and night shots at the back, or would I have them in pairs of one day, one night?

You can see how I’m homing in on a project using the concept of splitting the thing into two – thousands of other permutations of ideas are at the end of threads leading off from all the other questions, just by going through the same kind of thought process.

I am very concerned about being one dimensional. Picking something like a single physical subject can very easily get repetitive, and I really want to push this beyond just “spring flowers” or “net curtains” (much as I do adore them, especially the old, ripped ones in abandoned cottages with broken dirty windows and peeling paint… ahem) but I’d have to have skill beyond my wildest dreams to be able to pull that off without the 13th picture looking like “oh, wow, it’s another net curtain, would you look at that… yawn”. I need to give myself enough space to move around within the project so that I can indulge my whims because nothing kills motivation like being forced into too narrow a pipe. So, something like ‘day and night’ gives me scope for a range of subjects, enough that I wouldn’t get bored before I’d shot enough to whittle down to 35 (36 in the interests of an equal split) and it’s close enough to home that I can get out shooting for it on a good few excursions within 2-3 weeks, leaving me with a week for editing and processing.

I’m hoping this maybe did help someoene else trying to think of a project, by giving ideas not for projects themselves, but for the questions to ask to generate inspiration for their own ideas.

breaking away

Yep, it’s one of those posts that has been prompted by other people’s blogs. A fundamental issue of most amateur photographers, and one that I’ve talked about before (probably too much), is the concept of being funnelled into that visual style that is generally accepted as good by groups of other amateur/not so amateur photographers. While there is overwhelming evidence of certain things being aesthetically pleasing (and this has led on to rules of composition which we’re all fairly familiar with, whether consciously or not), surely there’s more to photography than that. Unfortunately though, when someone tries to do something that has a different visual end result than what fits with this aesthetic ideal, they tend to be either shunned or encouraged to fall in line with what is deemed acceptable.

You see it happening on flickr – people start processing for more saturated colours, shooting simple, graphic compositions that catch your eye in a thumbnail – because that’s what attracts attention on there and gets you into explore. There was a recent discussion on Paul Butzi’s blog about how the magazine Lenswork has possibly encouraged people into a certain style of black & white in an effort to have their portfolio published, and Mike Shimwell has also shared some thoughts on the effect that magazines, clubs and online groups have on people’s ideas of what is good. As I said, I have posted about this before. But in a response to Mike’s post, I think I came up with a fairly succinct (well, for me!) explanation of why this might be the case, and I thought ot was worth sticking up here on my own blog for future reference. So:

I think there are a couple of reasons that it happens – firstly, photography is something that draws not only the ‘usual’ artistic types who might be into other visual arts, but those who would be interested in the gadgetry, the technical details and the science behind the process of creating images. These people would be more inclined to judge images on their technical qualities, rather than something less tangible and quantifiable, such as their artistic merit (for want of a better phrase). This leads me on to my second reason – when people get together in groups to share and discuss and measure things, they want a set of criteria to measure these things with. It’s pretty much impossible to quantify the artistic merit of an image and all the emotional responses we have to certain images – so they fall back on things that are easier to measure such as exposure, sharpness, straightness of horizons, that sort of thing, where the group has established a clear indication of what end of the spectrum is ‘good’ regarding those criteria.

It’s a sad state of affairs, but I hope that enough people can realise what’s going on and break away from that structure, to start evaluating their own work based on something other than the technical specifications. I do wonder though, how many don’t, and end up with all their talent funnelled into that narow gap of what is deemed acceptable and good by these majority groups.

gimmicky effects

Sometimes things I read ages ago pop back into my consciousness without warning, and this is one of them.

I remember someone saying (/writing) about holga images, pointing out that the effect is a gimmick and if you strip away those visual characteristics of the camera/lens then you’re left with a very boring picture, which renders the entire thing pointless. I fail miserably at paraphrasing and it was so long ago I haven’t a hope of finding the original source, but they seemed to be saying that if it wasn’t taken with a holga then it wouldn’t be regarded as good, so the whole thing is a gimmick. As in, if you had a boring picture, and you add those effects to make it interesting, you’re somehow cheating and it isn’t any good no matter which way you look at it.

Of course this is mostly up there with things like when people insist that images are sharp from front to back, or whinge about horizons being 0.02 degrees off horizontal, but I knew there was an actual logical reply and had to spill it out somewhere.

The quality of these images I think doesn’t come from something that would have made a great picture in the first place, pimped up with crazy effects. I think it’s about having the ability to marry up the visual style with the subject, and make something that wouldn’t necessarily work as a ’straight’ image, work beautifully with the softness and the vignetting and so on. Sometimes we’re so overwhelmed by a visual style that sweeps the photographic communities that it’s easy to think everyone’s just taking their everyday, run of the mill stuff and mindlessly applying a filter, or a preset. It’s a shame to write off some absolute gems because there is a fashion that takes it too far and gives the whole thing a bad name.

There’s definitely a talent in knowing what to use and when to use it, and I think it’s a highly underrated one.

about, ugh

I’ve been toying with the idea of an actual photo-blog for some time now.

It’s something that fits in with a slightly different way of working than I’m used to, in that you don’t process and upload everything from a shoot in one go – you generally post one image per day or so – meaning you can have images from a shoot to process/publish months after the event. I’m interested to see if/how it affects my process, and possibly the way that my images are perceived – by both myself and others. But I wasn’t happy with the idea of just randomly posting whatever I’ve been shooting, and saving it all for the blog. I’ve decided to keep it ‘themed’ (for want of a better word), so that I can just keep aside the images that fit, and post everything else on my flickr as usual. I may even post the blog images on flickr at the same time as I put them on the blog.

Enough of the mechanics though, what I’m stuck with at the moment, and it is something that’s very important to me, is the ‘about’ page. I see it as a kind of artist’s statement, because I suppose by theming the content I’m making it into a project. But I’m really struggling with drawing that line between being open and genuine about what I’m trying to do and coming across as pretentious and overly artsy. I’m trying to get beyond showing something because I think it’s pretty and I have a good idea of what I’m doing, but when I start trying to explain what it, I start to sound more and more like those awful introductions you read in galleries or on ‘Fine Art Photography’ websites, before they go on to list where the artist studied and so on. I keep coming up with phrases like ‘this work explores…’ and I almost physically gag as I type it, because if my eyes glaze over as I read it back – and it’s my own – what happens when anyone else does?

It seems like a very easy mode to fall into when you’re trying to explain what you’re trying to do with a series of images, but by pulling back from that you end up sounding like a standard ‘I like to take pictures with my nice shiny camera’ spiel.

This is before I even consider what to write to accompany each image – and I also have to do something similar to accompany a print in an exhibition coming up in a few weeks so it’s heavy on my mind. Ugh. Has anyone bridged the gap successfully that you’ve seen? Can you talk about your artistic motives without sounding like you’re trying to win at bullsh*t bingo?

it’s what you do with it that counts

I don’t usually post about gear. I think it’s far too easy to get into that whole “if only I had x, I’d be a better photographer…” and stop actually concentrating on the pictures you can take with what you already have. But recently, I finally got to the stage where the 5D mkII became a reality for me, and it’s fantastic how much confidence it’s given me to shoot when I would previously have been limited – mostly because of the excellent performance at high ISO which allows me to get those low light shots. I’m also getting loads more distortion on the edges with the holga lens, because of the full frame sensor – it’s fantastic! I’m thinking of combining the low light ability with the holga lens – which may or may not be my SoFoBoMo project, depending on how initial testing goes. I’m also getting used to the 100mm with a wider field of view on the full frame sensor, which is taking a while.

Lots of people I’ve spoken to seem to get very excited about gear, but in that way where they are just impressed by something’s ability to do something, rather than the applications that it would have in their work, and I think that’s where you can fall into the trap of always looking to the next lens. It really doesn’t help anyone, and I have been known to roll my eyes and change the subject when people get too enthusiastic about ridiculously expensive stuff that they can barely hope to own in the next decade.

Of course, I then went to the Focus On Imaging show at the NEC yesterday and did some serious coveting. If only I had one of those zone plate lensbabies, and a 50mm f1.2L, and an 85mm f1.2L, and a 135mm f2L…

sofobomo ‘09

I’m guessing if you read this blog, you also read the other blogs of people who have already posted about SoFoBoMo ‘09 so I’m just kinda bringing up there rear here…

Still got a few possible ideas floating about in my brain but I suspect I’m not actually going to tie myself down to one of them until I’ve actually started shooting. Still, it’s good to get the neurons firing.

I’m considering being a bit more open about the process this year, and keeping a daily(ish) diary of my shooting and editing – either for my own amusement or general consumption, I’ll decide that after seeing how much I waffle.

Speaking of waffling, I’ll stop now.

Go sign up.

expectations

Before I launch into rambling, it’s fantastic to see so many gorgeous images being dredged up from the depths of people’s archives to be given the attention they deserve. Following on somewhat tenuously from the whole editing issue, I just read a new take on something I’ve heard/thought about plenty before:

Given the luxury of time, the expectations of what we might have hoped to catch for a shoot pass into appreciation (or disappointment) for what we actually capture. It can take a little time for the mind to “change channels” about our expectations.

I’m no stranger to the concept of leaving time between shooting and processing/editing so that you ‘distance yourself from the emotional attachment to the subject/shoot’ but I’m of the opinion that your emotional attachment to the shoot is something that adds to the results, rather than detracting from them. Otherwise you’d be as well to have someone else edit and process your work. But this is a new slant on it for me. Well, a combination of new and one of those things that you kind of knew in the back of your mind but couldn’t realise or articulate until someone else does, so much more eloquently.

I started writing this post last week, and even after thinking about it for days I still managed to go out shooting on Sunday and come home to edit and process what I shot, heavy with expectations (my subject was a rain soaked early blossoming tree in gorgeous post-shower sunlight against a background of earthy brown bushes). And as you might expect, I was disappointed, because I think I was looking for something, rather than looking at what I had. I’m tentatively hoping that when I go through them for the second time, I’ll actually get to seeing what I took rather than looking for what I thought I should have got.

Some people tend to work better when they are told what they do isn’t up to scratch. It makes them strive to work harder, be better, show what they are really capable of at the peak of their ability. I think of it as the demon with pitchfork school of encouragement. I think it suits a certain kind of personality. I’ve discovered that when I’m ‘encouraged’ in that way, I’m more inclined to say “Fine then, I won’t bother” rather than striving to be better. But by some cruel quirk of fate, I seem to have a demon with a pitchfork in my own head. Maybe by giving the demon some cooling off time, I can stick corks on the pitchfork…

Point of interest: After checking the preview of this post I noticed that the tree I was shooting yesterday is the very same as the one in the image I’ve used in my blog header, which I must have shot this time last year…

the quiet ones

Earlier on I posted about missing good images because they get lost in the mountains that we shoot these days (broad generalisation acknowledged)…

Is there a way to reduce the volume, but not lose what’s important? Is there a way to know, in advance, what is important?

If I were to shoot less, would I miss the images that I end up liking most after the editing phase? Does feeling free to shoot as much as I like at the time help me produce the good stuff?

If I edit more strictly, would I miss the ones that I often find on a second pass of the raw files, or the ones that I initially just like (with a lowercase ‘l’) but follow on later to really grow on me?

I can go through my archives months and years later and find that the shots I was most pleased with/proud of at the time seem insubstantial now, and realise that some others sitting quietly in the sidelines – the ones I haven’t printed or put in my portfolio – have more weight than I’d ever have expected, had I not taken that later look. The crowds of thumbnails dazzle our eyes and our brains and it’s far too easy to be seduced by the simplest compositions or the prettiest colours when we’re doing our initial cull.

Ii suppose I’ll only be able to muse about this a certain amount before I’m actually out there shooting again and it’ll become part of what I’m doing ‘in the field’. I wonder if that will bring any insight? I won’t be thinking about it consciously… when I’m out there, I’m doing my thing and none of it is too well choreographed – but I think when I roll these ideas around in my brain when I’m not photographing, some of it sticks in my subconscious and comes into play whether I think about it at the time or not.

I suppose I’ll just have to see.

too many pictures?

I’ve been in that new-year-lack-of-inspiration type rut since, well, since christmas I suppose.

I’m thinking about what I’ve done, and what I want to do, and where I want to take my photography this year. I thought I may get some inspiration from a browse of my archives, and I took a wander through using the Cooliris plugin for Flickr in Firefox. It’s a nice way to skip quickly and intuitively through a large amount of shots, and allow single click enlarging. Anyway, enough about that.

I started looking at one of my shots and thought “that would look quite nice printed, why haven’t I picked it out before?”. Then I realised that it had simply got lost in a sea of images. I consider the stuff I upload to flickr to be my keepers – quite often what gets to flickr has survived two or three rounds of editing from the selection I actually process after a shoot – so it’s by no means a dumping ground. But even so, I’ve got over 1000 pictures up there from last year, albeit including a few weddings.

That little warning bell went off in my head when I realised that. I know there are plenty people who still shoot film because it actually does, through expense or process, limit the amount you shoot and therefore make you slow down and think about it more. Some people who shoot digital even limit themselves to a certain amount of shots for the same reason. But any time people have been talking about that, it seems to have been more about the process side of things.

What I’m thinking about here is the mountain of images we end up with, and how much we actually learn when we’re not spending a whole lot of time looking at each individual one for very much time at all. It’s all very well taking advantage of the tight feedback loop you can get with digital photography, but when you’ve shot enough to master the technicalities, should you be looking a bit harder at what you’ve done, rather than just shooting more and more?

What do you do with the majority of your images? Do you print any? How do you choose which to print? What do you do with them once they are on paper? How does that affect what you then shoot afterwards? Is paper the ultimate destination for an image, or is that mostly just a belief carried over from darkroom based photography? That’s a whole other post, so I won’t head down that road just yet…

I don’t think I’m done digging here.