Based on feedback, for 2018 I will concentrate this blog on more practical aspects of photography. For this first blog of the new year, I address one of the old chestnuts of photography:  Don’t take the first shot that presents itself.

We hear this all the time in photography clubs and in instructional books.  Move around.  Get various viewpoints.  Wait until the decisive moment appears.

It is true that we may take 1000 pictures and end up with only three or four that are truly memorable and evocative—the wow shots. It is also true that where the opportunity presents itself, it does pay to move around the subject; perhaps wait to see if certain people move away or the sun breaks through.  Any number of factors impact on the ultimate image.  However, the advantage of digital photography is such that there is no impediment to taking that first shot.

We often round a corner, take a curve in the road, or arrive at a lookout point, and we are struck immediately with a view.  I like to take that picture because it captures immediately what I saw and what was—in that moment—the wow image.  I then move around, look for a better angle, perhaps one that avoids an obstructive element I now notice.  Maybe I won’t use that first image.

But I have also experienced situations where, having hesitated to wait or look for the better shot, I have lost it entirely.  The person whose face was filled with character has now seen me, and the expression is gone.  The clear view is now gone because a truck has parked in front of the interesting building.  The sun vanishes behind a cloud.  And so forth.

Take the first shot.  It may be the only one you get.  While I generally agree with the conventional wisdom that you should get the image as well as you can in the camera, the reality is that there is much that can be done in the processing of an image—particularly and most simply in cropping and straightening.

Here’s an example.  The first shot is made just after I emerged from the arch leading to Praça do Comércio (Commerce Square) in Lisbon, Portugal.

 
It is unprocessed here.  I may not have snapped the instant I went through the arch, but instead gathered my bearings, absorbed, and then shot.  It is facing the ocean, but we do not really see the ocean.  It has people in a random position that do not add anything to the image.  It is asymmetrical, with part of a building on the right but not showing the comparable building on the left.  It does show (and reminds me) of the impression of the vast, bright, clean nature of the square.  It is like a diary entry.  I could do things with this (e.g., straighten it, and crop it so the “v” is more symmetrical).  It is not necessarily a bad image, but it may not be the best.  Nonetheless, I have it.  And maybe on reflection I like the people in the foreground I’ve captured, who would not have been there had I hesitated.

It is a large square, and I spent time shooting it towards the ocean and back towards the city, focusing on this side and that side, on details and the broader picture.  I went up to the observation area on top of the arch, and of all the pictures, found this one preferable to present what initially impressed me about the square.

I think this is a better image.  But I’m still glad to have that first shot so it did not join the list we all have of the ones that got away because we hesitated.

​In 1927, Alberto Giacometti sculpted The Couple, a bronze case symbolizing, if more abstractly representing, a man and a woman, borrowing from more primitive or tribal work.  The Museum of Modern Art in New York notes of this piece that “[t]he pairing of male and female figures announces what would become one of Giacometti's great, lifelong subjects: the encounter between men and women, life and art.” I have converted it to a black and white image to emphasize its detail, not its color, and allow comparison with the second image.

They struck me as clearly a couple but who are remarkably disconnected as they each focus on their phones.  Nonetheless, they are in proximity but also disconnected from each other.

The more one is exposed to art, the more the patterns of existence reveal themselves.  Various photographers today concern themselves with stretching the medium.  I continue to believe there is a place for “traditional” photography, exploring like Giacometti a particular subject, in its myriad and endless permutations.

With the advent of the negative image and the introduction of photography in 1839, early photographers sought to establish photography as a legitimate art.  Part of that movement entailed Pictorialism, where photographers staged scenes that evoked classical painting and photographed them.  Eventually, the groups known as photo-secessionists moved towards more realism in photographic subject matter, taking advantage of the unique aspects of the photograph and the camera rather than trying to force the square peg of the photographic image into the round hole of painting.  In other words, photography was its own medium and did not need to imitate other forms of art. There is value to the photographer in viewing paintings of all movements as well as sculpture and other art forms.  Subject matter, composition, and how an artist uses a particular medium are informative. 

Which brings me to Egyptian art.  On a certain level, one can discern elements of street art in Egyptian wall painting and objects from tombs.  This image which I photographed at the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore was part of the Egyptian collection depicting "Daily Life In Ancient Egypt.”  This image shows two men playing the board game senet.  This scene included other games players and musicians and was presumed to be a bas relief on the lintel of a doorway in the tomb of Ankh-ef-en-sekhmet.

Look at this carefully.  The man on the left has his left hand grasping the table leg as he reaches to make a move just as, apparently, the man to our right is in the process of perhaps finishing his move with his right hand.  This man’s left hand is resting on his leg.  Without too much of a stretch, we see one man, perhaps tense and maybe losing, and the other man, relaxed and perhaps winning.  Artists generally make choices.  Both are right-handed, apparently, but Egyptian art was about showing the entirety of the human form—why not have one left-handed and one right-handed, with the free hands in more symmetrical position? Both seem to have a trace of a smile on their faces as well.  Perhaps the best answer is the artist sought a more natural depiction of daily life as it was actually lived.  In this small detail, we come far closer to these two people in the time frame of 550-525 BC, within the Egyptian Late Period of 500 to 450 BC. 

Compare the Egyptian players with these two chess players in Atlanta, Georgia.  Neither is touching a piece, but both are focused on the board.  Their hands rest on their legs.  It is a scene composed similarly to the Egyptian one, essentially two game players and a board, not looking at each other but at their board and contemplating their moves.

What I find remarkable is that these two sets of players are separated by some 2500 years, and we can find common ground in human behavior.  The street photographer in particular, searching for evidence of daily life in the contemporary city, finds an example of composition and human interaction in Egyptian art.  The more we are aware of human behavior across the centuries as depicted in art, the more likely we are to recognize it in contemporary life.

I have been reading about distinctions between street photography and documentary photography.  Certainly, there is overlap.  Without attempting to repeat or develop the theoretical differences, we can synthesize the essential difference as this:  documentary photography is meant to be objective in order to show its subject as a more permanent feature, whereas street photography is more subjective, capturing a moment that comes and goes and often has elements of whimsy to it.  Both capture a sense of place.  The key in photographing a city is to see beyond the iconic subjects, and look for the shot that captures character.

The image shown above was made in Belfast around Shaftesbury Square as I was heading towards the University Quarter.  I like barber shops, as a contrast to the hair salons that lack the texture and look of the barber shops.  I saw the head of a man, apparently waiting for his turn—but with a mainly bald head and a short fringe around it.  With tight cropping to retain the elements of the barber shop to fix its identity, and close enough to show the head but leaving in the small reflection to draw the eye. The point of the photo is to capture a whimsical moment—a man in a barber shop—and I converted it to a black and white image for effect.  Black and white enabled me to focus on the man and his head contrasting with the barbershop.  Color would have been too distracting.

These details and moments of life are what capture the essence of the city.  It is easy to get overwhelmed when you have limited time to photograph a new place.  I’d been to Belfast before and was on my way to cover an area I’d given short shrift to previously.  You need to be aware, though, of what is around and fortuitous, and not be a prisoner of the map and the “must see” designations.

I spent a college semester in London in 1976.  On returning to the United States, much of what had seemed familiar and had gone unnoticed now stood out.  When we travel, we are aware of many differences in commonplace items, some more subtle than others, such that on our return, we observe our surroundings more astutely.  We also see sights that we ignore, proving the adage that familiarity breeds contempt.  It should not.  What is travel photography but capturing what is distinctive and appealing in a particular location?

It is a useful exercise and a good mindset to develop because it sharpens awareness and helps us visualize images that might otherwise have gone unnoticed.  I happen to live in the Princeton area, and can recall one of my earliest visits as a child.  My grandparents liked to walk the town, which my grandfather at the time called “quaint.”  He had lived in Brooklyn his entire life and worked in Manhattan, so despite geographic proximity, he nonetheless noticed significant differences.

One of the more colorful features of life in foreign cities is the café.  In Europe, we visit the grand coffeehouses of Vienna, the artist-frequented cafés of Paris, and the more exotic coffeehouses of Amsterdam.  In other cities on other continents are variations on the theme, but one universality is the café or local tavern or pub as a place of congregation and talk, of food, drink and relaxation—an integral part of urban life. 

Below is an image made in Princeton, New Jersey.  From across the street, the two individuals stood out against the shaded interior, and the facade of the building had interesting texture.  This is one of several coffeehouses in Princeton.  This is a scene I would have found instantly appealing in Paris or Buenos Aires or Tokyo.  The fact that it was familiar makes it no less foreign, or vice versa.  It is a moment, a slice of life featuring a unique place in a unique town.  If you make yourself a tourist, and think about the things you look for in foreign (to you) places, you will find a far richer texture of life on your home turf.

I take a practical approach to photography.  To paraphrase the old saying, we don’t want to lose good photos in pursuit of perfect ones, and we shouldn’t lose opportunities because we are concerned that we may not achieve a technically perfect image.  Subject matter counts, and the overall result—if pleasing and resonant—is the test.  It remains subjective.  Too many photography club pundits and contest judges over-fixate on the technical.  Pay attention to them, but do not discard your own instincts.

For example, you may often find yourself on a bus, whether part of a tour or just getting to a place, or even as just a passenger in a car.  Everything in a country foreign to you is new, and therefore potentially interesting subject matter.  I was recently in Hungary and wanted to capture something of the countryside as a small group of us, on business, were traveling some distance from Budapest. Photography pundits will also you to not photograph the first thing you see, but sometimes you don’t always have the luxury of scouting.

Here is an image from Hungary’s wine country and shows one of the vineyards.   While much of what we traversed was flat, there were hills breaking up the terrain from time to time.  I shot generally in shutter priority with as fast a speed as I could—even if it meant not perfect exposure, since I knew I could compensate for that later in Lightroom.  I kept the lens close to, but not touching the window, and the window would serve as a filter.  I knew I could sharpen the image and make colors pop through appropriate adjustments.  Again, I was after the subject, something that captured in an iconic way what I was seeing, and which I could not otherwise get.  Not every image will be blur-free, but you can evaluate what could be successful upon proper sharpening.

Watch out for reflections in the window, but you can probably get rid of them later.  Shoot towards the distance to eliminate the blur of objects closer to you.  Try to shoot straight out or even slightly backwards, to eliminate the motion.   And don’t worry too much if, when on the screen and in extreme close up, it is not perfect.  I shoot several, and usually at least one is sharp.  If not exactly sharp due to motion blur, it may be so slight that while it is visible on the screen at double the size, at normal size, whether on the screen or in print, it may well be fine.  Trust your eye.

It's better to have it as a good and interesting and pleasing image, than not to have it at all because I was not sure I could render it “perfect”—whatever that means.

Below are two versions of a recent photograph I made of a sunset over Zagreb, Croatia.  The scene was shot from my hotel room, sufficiently elevated to get a good view of the rooftops, but also facing certain other buildings and impediments.  For composition purposes, I wanted a foreground that anchored the sunset to the interesting rooftops of Zagreb and the dome just in front of me.  I wanted a portrait (as opposed to landscape) styled image to capture as much of the sky as possible—a sky that was layered in color.  Let’s put aside for the moment that cropping in itself is an adjustment (limiting) of reality; I want to focus more on capturing color.

The raw image captured the pinks and pale yellows of the sky.  It also exposed for the sky.  I knew I was getting an obtrusion from part of the building to the right, but also knew I could either crop it out or otherwise clone it out.  I wanted to get at the drama of the sunset, so I shot numerous versions from this window as the light changed by the minute, if not in seconds, and took different angles from the window.

I straightened it and cropped out the intrusion on the right, and worked with the color sliders in Lightroom, adjusting the luminance and saturation of the relevant colors.  The danger is to avoid overdoing it so that it creates an artificial look.  I also used the contrast filters, working with shadow and darkness to bring in some detail of the foreground rooftops but not wanting to create too much noise.  It is always a balance between sharpening and noise when you are pulling up the shadows, particularly as you go to higher ISOs.

I was particularly concerned about the yellow and brightened and saturated as far as I felt was plausible.  These were the colors that were there and that I saw, if perhaps more muted.
So the questions: Is this a real sunset? Is it a realistic sunset? Should we leave it alone, and not adjust the color at all?

We know that there are multiple colors: what is shot, what shows in the camera, what shows on the monitor, what ultimately prints, and how other people see it on their myriads of monitors.  I recall a favorite saying, purportedly from a philosopher whose name escapes me, that essentially states, "I see blue and you see blue, but the blue I see is not the blue you see."

To saturate, you are deepening a color already there.  I don’t adjust hue, but to increase or decrease luminance is still to work with the color that is already there.  I suppose if I went too far and turned this into a cartoon, or so exaggerated the colors that it no longer looked “real,” I would have lost reality.  But on the other hand, if I boost what is already there to, in my mind, get back to reality, to the sensation and impact of what I perceived (even if not exactly what I saw), is that any less real? If we now see details in the foreground that were not visible as the camera exposed for the highlights, isn’t that still the reality?

Original raw image

Edited Image

How much should the curator's explanation define the photograph? A current exhibition at the Princeton University Art Museum raises this question.
 
Imagine a photograph of a rectangle of blue sky, with a few inconsequential clouds. That is all you see. There is nothing special about the color of the sky. By itself, it would mean nothing. But if you explain that the photograph was taken on September 12, 2001, or even just title it September 12, 2001, the photograph now takes on an entirely different meaning based on the external information. If you added a curatorial card next to the image that explained that this photograph was taken in New Jersey the day after the September 11 attack on one of the most traveled air routes along the east coast of the United States, then suddenly a banal image of dull sky becomes charged as a political and social statement.
 
In Revealing Pictures: Photographs from the Christopher E. Olofson Collection,  (http://artmuseum.princeton.edu/art/exhibitions/3013) there are a series of documentary photographs. One, by Edmund Clark, is titled Negative Publicity #117 (Swimming Pool in the Hotel Gran Melia Victoria, Palma de Mallorca), 2014. It shows just what it says: a glass-enclosed swimming pool with a garden outside. It is inviting, beautiful. The title does not quite convey anything in particular, and all we see is this swimming pool. However, the curatorial note by the picture puts the image in the context of the "war on terror" under President George W. Bush, and that this was a facility used by CIA operatives engaged in rendition activity, noting that they were performing illegal functions while in plain sight. Another image by Daniel and Geo Fuchs shows apparently hundreds of multi-colored files in a storage facility; mildly interesting in itself, the image takes on new meaning when it is explained this is from the former East German Stasi offices of state security.
 
I have a series of photographs of Revolutionary War battlefields. Without identification or explanation, one looks at a field or even a city block. Once one knows it is the exact site of some monumental event—where people died—the ordinary suddenly becomes a different image entirely, informed by external information. Such may have a place as a documentary image, but it does raise the question whether such images—otherwise technically solid—can otherwise resonate as "art' without the external information. Or whether that matters?

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For information on any photos or posts on this website, email me at richmanphotoart@gmail.com.

In my "Humanity and the City" exhibit at the Johnson & Johnson Corporate Art Gallery in New Brunswick, New Jersey (January 31-March 17, 2017), I seek to celebrate subject.  My photography is the interpretation of the city and the connection of its people to it  Working in black and white printing, with the elimination of color, I am able to focus on subject without distraction.  The interplay of light and atmosphere are enhanced in this environment.  I have searched for patterns, the common denominators of human existence within that most basic and overlooked of human achievement-the city.  The city is its people and its people are the city.  While abstraction and an expanding application of photography into multi-media works has its place, it is refreshing and challenging to search for and capture the moments of life that form a common thread across our times.

For more information on this exhibit:

http://www.richmanphotoart.com/news--events.html

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For information on any photos or posts on this website, email me at richmanphotoart@gmail.com.

.The East Building of the National Gallery in Washington, D.C., has reopened after extensive renovation, and it now rivals and compares favorably with MOMA in New York and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.  Photography is not only the subject of special exhibits, but is also integrated within other collections, a feature seemingly becoming more common.

Two exhibits raised a particular question.  One was a room devoted to the Düsseldorf School of Photography, including photographers Thomas Struth and Thomas Ruff among others, whose life size photographs dominate the room.  In fact, the curator card on the wall tells us “the monumental size of their pictures produces an immersive quality, challenging our expectations of the nature of the medium and the boundaries between photography and painting.”

A second room, part of the American art exhibition, featured two photographs by Charles Sheeler of the same scene, but framed and displayed in different sizes.  The larger was not monumental, and both images are within the normal range of sizes of traditional photography of Sheeler’s time.  Putting aside for the moment the exposure and other issues (remember this is a photograph of a photograph), we can compare side by side which image size is preferable.

But the broader question raised by the Düsseldorf School images is reminiscent of the early Pictorialism of photography.  In the 19th century, as photographers sought to establish photography as a respectable medium of art (and not just as a utilitarian exercise), they engaged in posed pictures to emulate art.  We then saw the Photo Secessionists who sought to establish photography as an art form independent of painting and its replication.  Have we come full circle?

This is not to criticize the work represented, but merely to note that while these are powerful works, and size does not, in all instances, make the image.  The photography of Walker Evans, Robert Frank and Berenice Abbott, to name just three, are cases in point.

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For information on any photos or posts on this website, email me at richmanphotoart@gmail.com.