Greg Davies, Untitled #3 ('Becoming' series, unedited), 2010Sunday, September 26, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Sally Mann, The Last Time Emmett Modeled Nude
Sally Mann, The Last Time Emmett Modeled Nude, 1987, Gelatin silver print
(image sourced from PBS.org)
Self Interview # 2 (‘Becoming’) : September 2010
GD: During our previous discussion you mentioned a number of other photographers who have also worked on projects dealing with family and friends. Sally Mann was one of the names that came up in this context. Can you talk about photographers who are perhaps influencing your ideas with respect to this project?
GD: Sally Mann is, to my mind, a remarkable photographer. With her ‘Immediate Family’ series she demonstrated a willingness to go where few would venture with portraiture and this resulted in a conservative backlash against her work. The principle objections to her photographs were largely directed at issues of nudity and the representations of her children. Some charged Mann with exploitation and questioned her role as a mother. But after the initial controversy died down favorable critical reception placed her among the most important American photographers of the late 20th - and now early 21st - centuries. There is no question that her work is provocative but it never exploits in my view because it is genuine. The themes that are addressed in her work are personal and universal…and always relevant.
GD: Can you explain?
GD: Sure. One of her best-known photographs is an image titled ‘The Last Time Emmett Modeled Nude’. To my mind it is a perfect marriage between image and title and the composition addresses beautifully the underlying themes that I find in her work. The photograph shows her son wading into a river. He’s nude, as the title indicates, but his nudity is partially concealed by the water and the expression on his face suggests that he has just reached an age of greater self-conscious before the camera and others. He’s no longer entirely comfortable, it seems, with modeling this way. The photograph may have been provocative for some back in the ‘90s (when Mann exhibited the work) but in fact it’s really a very sensitive image. Mann respects her son’s privacy and offers a portrait that captures this transitional moment in his life… without exploiting him. The image is melancholic and bittersweet… we’re witnesses to the passing of a chapter in this child’s life as he continues to grow and change. There will never be another photograph quite like this for Emmett or Sally. And the photograph itself compliments this theme because it too signifies the passing of a moment. Photographs are like memorials. They simultaneously mark the death of a moment while ensuring that the moment takes on a new life in our memories and imaginations. For this reason the photograph is the perfect medium for Mann’s image and it is no surprise that the themes of life and death are so pervasive in her work.
GD: You said that Mann is a “remarkable” photographer…
GD: Yes, because of her willingness to do what many others would not. To go behind the camera and make the kinds of photographs that Mann produces takes guts. You have to follow your artistic vision yet reconcile this in some way with respect for your subject. If you don’t do this you run the risk of exploiting your subject. This is enough of an issue when you’re dealing with adults but when you’re working with children it is a critical problem. The minute you step behind the camera there is a power relationship established between you and ‘your’ subject. You’re in control. You have to respect that relationship and that power. You need to know that your subject is comfortable with that relationship… and able to cope with the public presentation of those images regardless of what shape or form they take. There is a lot at stake and to follow through on this requires a very high level of commitment and tenacity.
GD: Are there others who demonstrate, for you, this level of commitment?
GD: When I was in Spain in 2000 I came across a book of photographic work, Cronos, by the Catalan photographer Pere Formiguera. He’s highly respected but not quite so well known, I think, in North America. In this work Formiguera documented the physical changes of a group of subjects - ranging in age from 2 - 75 - by photographing each of them once a month over the course of ten years. It’s an extraordinary project that resulted in a truly unique set of portraits. To have carried this through to completion must have taken great commitment… not only from Formiguera but also his subjects.
GD: Where do you see the development of your project in relation to this type of work?
GD: The idea of chronology… of mapping the passage of time and the changes within people is obviously something that interests me. Formiguera dealt with this directly and in a manner that is very different from the approach that I’m taking. I’m not at all interested in emulating this type of work. Sally Mann also deals with chronology but with very different results. Again, I have no desire to try and imitate this kind of work. Generally speaking I like looking at the work of others to see how they have dealt with the kinds of issues I’m concerned with… but I’m most interested in how they have arrived at a unique vision. Thinking this through helps me to understand my own choices more effectively. It helps to put my own work into perspective. In a sense I treat the work of other influential photographers as something to engage with almost on a discursive level… almost conversational if that makes sense. I’m generally not looking at these works for formal ideas.
GD: Speaking of conversation… what about input from other photographers?
GD: I’ve just had a really engaging discussion with one of my former students, Christopher
McLeod, who is a professional photographer. I’m very grateful for his input because he has, for a start, a lot more experience than I do. I have a lot to learn from people like Christopher so I respect his opinion greatly.
GD: What did you discuss?
GD: Many things. We spent a bit of time on the topic of digital imaging and older photographic techniques… so-called ‘analog’ photography (laughing). I think we share some similar views on digital imaging and especially contemporary printing methods. Inkjet printing has become enormously popular and this is one issue we looked at. At what point do such prints reflect the intentions of the photographer… and at what point do they suggest a compromise? Inkjet prints are convenient and cost-effective. The resolution of these prints can also be very high but when a photographer chooses to go with an inkjet over some other method of printing we need to consider the motives. Has the choice been made because of the intrinsic qualities of the inkjet print or does it simply reflect a compromise? Convenience and cost can be powerful motivators, especially if the quality is high… but at some point one has to consider the integrity of the vision. If one is seeking a high-quality print there are alternatives… dye-transfer, cibachrome, silver gelatin, for example. It’s necessary to consider the choice of print and how that particular medium relates to the subject matter and the themes that inform the work. Going back to Sally Mann’s work for a moment… we can see this clearly. In her recent work she has been using the wet collodion process. This is a difficult and temperamental technique that goes back to the 1800s. I think the visual effect of the collodion plate, reflected in the finished print, works very well with the theme of death that Mann treats in her series ‘What Remains’. It is reminiscent of the past and, to some extent, nostalgic… and this is augmented by the fact that - as Mann discovered - collodion was used by field surgeons to treat wounded soldiers during the civil war. Since her work is additionally informed by her Southern American heritage it is fitting that she has adopted the technique. The end result is a perfect union of subject matter, visual style, medium and content. It is complete… and without compromise.
GD: Given what you have said do you think that inkjet prints lack the credibility of older forms of printmaking?
GD: Not at all. Inkjet prints are a contemporary form of visual media. They are produced in a way that is very different from the other photographic prints I’ve mentioned. This has to be respected. There is absolutely a place for this type of image but it is only going to work when the photographer considers the medium well. If you look at the history of modern art there are many examples of work that treat new forms of visual media but those that continue to be relevant are the ones that reflect the artist’s keen understanding of the medium in its time. There is meaning in the medium itself… and in the process. This has to be recognized. Inkjet printing is no less significant or valid than any other medium but it isn’t necessarily suited to every purpose. Christopher and I were looking at this issue and, I think, in agreement.
GD: Where do you see the meaning in the medium and process of digital imaging and inkjet printing?
GD: Digital imaging and inkjet printing have been adopted very quickly and significant advances have been made in a short span of time with respect to the quality of these media. They are very flexible and can yield impressive results even in the hands of someone who has little photographic experience. No doubt this makes some photographers uneasy… some, at least, who have spent the better part of their lives perfecting technical skills in making images on film and photographic paper. But the concerns registered by these photographers represent the concerns of a minority because the demand for digital has simply exploded and manufacturers have responded to this demand by developing equipment that can now meet the needs of the professional market. Look at the resolution of today’s digital cameras and compare with the offerings of a just few years ago. Now as I see it the pro market is not concerning itself with the theoretical differences in meaning between digital and analog. It doesn’t need to… and digital is generally satisfying the demands of the field far better than analog possibly could. It is cost-effective, fast and high-end. Those of us who are looking at the meaningful differences between analog and digital need to take this into account. This is part of what defines the larger percentage of digital imaging today. It is not precious. In fact I would argue that it is ephemeral, pervasive and, in some ways, even disposable. We have more images being produced today than ever before and just like ‘tweets’ they accrue and pass by as quickly as they come. And this is how we often look at such images… with a fleeting interest. The photographer who uses digital with the intention of producing art has to embrace this, I think, and find some way to reconcile it with an artistic vision. For me the fleeting, ephemeral aspect is important. With digital I can amass an enormous collection of images for a single project… far more than I ever could with analog. The making of these images is rapid and spontaneous… this is why I’m using automatic metering and auto focus for many of these images. I do not treat this part of the process as precious. Instead it is the editing that is precious because it is driven by the desire to find or discover those meaningful images. Editing is like searching through rubble to find the few remains that are important. This part of the process is slow and deliberate by contrast… painstaking. And for me the contrast between the processes - between the rapidity of the camerawork and the methodical labour of the editing - lends to the meaning of the project as a whole because it speaks to the dual aspect of ‘becoming’. On the one hand you have the fleeting moments of life, growth and change - experienced by my daughters and their friend Chris - reflected in the spontaneous and ephemeral medium of the digital image. On the other hand you have the meditative aspect… the process of reflection that leads us to some better understanding of what we (or rather they) are becoming. This I see mirrored in the editorial process and, ultimately, the final print. The problem for me, at the immediate moment, has to do with the final print. I’m not sure what form these images will ultimately take. This I’m still wrestling with…
GD: Sally Mann is, to my mind, a remarkable photographer. With her ‘Immediate Family’ series she demonstrated a willingness to go where few would venture with portraiture and this resulted in a conservative backlash against her work. The principle objections to her photographs were largely directed at issues of nudity and the representations of her children. Some charged Mann with exploitation and questioned her role as a mother. But after the initial controversy died down favorable critical reception placed her among the most important American photographers of the late 20th - and now early 21st - centuries. There is no question that her work is provocative but it never exploits in my view because it is genuine. The themes that are addressed in her work are personal and universal…and always relevant.
GD: Can you explain?
GD: Sure. One of her best-known photographs is an image titled ‘The Last Time Emmett Modeled Nude’. To my mind it is a perfect marriage between image and title and the composition addresses beautifully the underlying themes that I find in her work. The photograph shows her son wading into a river. He’s nude, as the title indicates, but his nudity is partially concealed by the water and the expression on his face suggests that he has just reached an age of greater self-conscious before the camera and others. He’s no longer entirely comfortable, it seems, with modeling this way. The photograph may have been provocative for some back in the ‘90s (when Mann exhibited the work) but in fact it’s really a very sensitive image. Mann respects her son’s privacy and offers a portrait that captures this transitional moment in his life… without exploiting him. The image is melancholic and bittersweet… we’re witnesses to the passing of a chapter in this child’s life as he continues to grow and change. There will never be another photograph quite like this for Emmett or Sally. And the photograph itself compliments this theme because it too signifies the passing of a moment. Photographs are like memorials. They simultaneously mark the death of a moment while ensuring that the moment takes on a new life in our memories and imaginations. For this reason the photograph is the perfect medium for Mann’s image and it is no surprise that the themes of life and death are so pervasive in her work.
GD: You said that Mann is a “remarkable” photographer…
GD: Yes, because of her willingness to do what many others would not. To go behind the camera and make the kinds of photographs that Mann produces takes guts. You have to follow your artistic vision yet reconcile this in some way with respect for your subject. If you don’t do this you run the risk of exploiting your subject. This is enough of an issue when you’re dealing with adults but when you’re working with children it is a critical problem. The minute you step behind the camera there is a power relationship established between you and ‘your’ subject. You’re in control. You have to respect that relationship and that power. You need to know that your subject is comfortable with that relationship… and able to cope with the public presentation of those images regardless of what shape or form they take. There is a lot at stake and to follow through on this requires a very high level of commitment and tenacity.
GD: Are there others who demonstrate, for you, this level of commitment?
GD: When I was in Spain in 2000 I came across a book of photographic work, Cronos, by the Catalan photographer Pere Formiguera. He’s highly respected but not quite so well known, I think, in North America. In this work Formiguera documented the physical changes of a group of subjects - ranging in age from 2 - 75 - by photographing each of them once a month over the course of ten years. It’s an extraordinary project that resulted in a truly unique set of portraits. To have carried this through to completion must have taken great commitment… not only from Formiguera but also his subjects.
GD: Where do you see the development of your project in relation to this type of work?
GD: The idea of chronology… of mapping the passage of time and the changes within people is obviously something that interests me. Formiguera dealt with this directly and in a manner that is very different from the approach that I’m taking. I’m not at all interested in emulating this type of work. Sally Mann also deals with chronology but with very different results. Again, I have no desire to try and imitate this kind of work. Generally speaking I like looking at the work of others to see how they have dealt with the kinds of issues I’m concerned with… but I’m most interested in how they have arrived at a unique vision. Thinking this through helps me to understand my own choices more effectively. It helps to put my own work into perspective. In a sense I treat the work of other influential photographers as something to engage with almost on a discursive level… almost conversational if that makes sense. I’m generally not looking at these works for formal ideas.
GD: Speaking of conversation… what about input from other photographers?
GD: I’ve just had a really engaging discussion with one of my former students, Christopher
McLeod, who is a professional photographer. I’m very grateful for his input because he has, for a start, a lot more experience than I do. I have a lot to learn from people like Christopher so I respect his opinion greatly.
GD: What did you discuss?
GD: Many things. We spent a bit of time on the topic of digital imaging and older photographic techniques… so-called ‘analog’ photography (laughing). I think we share some similar views on digital imaging and especially contemporary printing methods. Inkjet printing has become enormously popular and this is one issue we looked at. At what point do such prints reflect the intentions of the photographer… and at what point do they suggest a compromise? Inkjet prints are convenient and cost-effective. The resolution of these prints can also be very high but when a photographer chooses to go with an inkjet over some other method of printing we need to consider the motives. Has the choice been made because of the intrinsic qualities of the inkjet print or does it simply reflect a compromise? Convenience and cost can be powerful motivators, especially if the quality is high… but at some point one has to consider the integrity of the vision. If one is seeking a high-quality print there are alternatives… dye-transfer, cibachrome, silver gelatin, for example. It’s necessary to consider the choice of print and how that particular medium relates to the subject matter and the themes that inform the work. Going back to Sally Mann’s work for a moment… we can see this clearly. In her recent work she has been using the wet collodion process. This is a difficult and temperamental technique that goes back to the 1800s. I think the visual effect of the collodion plate, reflected in the finished print, works very well with the theme of death that Mann treats in her series ‘What Remains’. It is reminiscent of the past and, to some extent, nostalgic… and this is augmented by the fact that - as Mann discovered - collodion was used by field surgeons to treat wounded soldiers during the civil war. Since her work is additionally informed by her Southern American heritage it is fitting that she has adopted the technique. The end result is a perfect union of subject matter, visual style, medium and content. It is complete… and without compromise.
GD: Given what you have said do you think that inkjet prints lack the credibility of older forms of printmaking?
GD: Not at all. Inkjet prints are a contemporary form of visual media. They are produced in a way that is very different from the other photographic prints I’ve mentioned. This has to be respected. There is absolutely a place for this type of image but it is only going to work when the photographer considers the medium well. If you look at the history of modern art there are many examples of work that treat new forms of visual media but those that continue to be relevant are the ones that reflect the artist’s keen understanding of the medium in its time. There is meaning in the medium itself… and in the process. This has to be recognized. Inkjet printing is no less significant or valid than any other medium but it isn’t necessarily suited to every purpose. Christopher and I were looking at this issue and, I think, in agreement.
GD: Where do you see the meaning in the medium and process of digital imaging and inkjet printing?
GD: Digital imaging and inkjet printing have been adopted very quickly and significant advances have been made in a short span of time with respect to the quality of these media. They are very flexible and can yield impressive results even in the hands of someone who has little photographic experience. No doubt this makes some photographers uneasy… some, at least, who have spent the better part of their lives perfecting technical skills in making images on film and photographic paper. But the concerns registered by these photographers represent the concerns of a minority because the demand for digital has simply exploded and manufacturers have responded to this demand by developing equipment that can now meet the needs of the professional market. Look at the resolution of today’s digital cameras and compare with the offerings of a just few years ago. Now as I see it the pro market is not concerning itself with the theoretical differences in meaning between digital and analog. It doesn’t need to… and digital is generally satisfying the demands of the field far better than analog possibly could. It is cost-effective, fast and high-end. Those of us who are looking at the meaningful differences between analog and digital need to take this into account. This is part of what defines the larger percentage of digital imaging today. It is not precious. In fact I would argue that it is ephemeral, pervasive and, in some ways, even disposable. We have more images being produced today than ever before and just like ‘tweets’ they accrue and pass by as quickly as they come. And this is how we often look at such images… with a fleeting interest. The photographer who uses digital with the intention of producing art has to embrace this, I think, and find some way to reconcile it with an artistic vision. For me the fleeting, ephemeral aspect is important. With digital I can amass an enormous collection of images for a single project… far more than I ever could with analog. The making of these images is rapid and spontaneous… this is why I’m using automatic metering and auto focus for many of these images. I do not treat this part of the process as precious. Instead it is the editing that is precious because it is driven by the desire to find or discover those meaningful images. Editing is like searching through rubble to find the few remains that are important. This part of the process is slow and deliberate by contrast… painstaking. And for me the contrast between the processes - between the rapidity of the camerawork and the methodical labour of the editing - lends to the meaning of the project as a whole because it speaks to the dual aspect of ‘becoming’. On the one hand you have the fleeting moments of life, growth and change - experienced by my daughters and their friend Chris - reflected in the spontaneous and ephemeral medium of the digital image. On the other hand you have the meditative aspect… the process of reflection that leads us to some better understanding of what we (or rather they) are becoming. This I see mirrored in the editorial process and, ultimately, the final print. The problem for me, at the immediate moment, has to do with the final print. I’m not sure what form these images will ultimately take. This I’m still wrestling with…
Friday, September 10, 2010
Irving Penn, Poppy, Glowing Embers (New York)
Irving Penn, Poppy, Glowing Embers (New York), 1968, dye-transfer print
Self-Interview #1: September 2010
GD: Before we begin I’m wondering why you chose to convey your thoughts by interviewing yourself?
GD: I tend to write rather slowly. This not only makes it challenging for me to regularly post blog entries, it also means that my entries may end up a little more pedantic than I would like. The photographic project I’m embarking on, which is directly linked to this blog, is concerned in part with spontaneity - with the struggle between control and the relinquishing of control. I want my thoughts to reflect some of that spontaneity as I share them here. Also… I think readers may find my thoughts more accessible in this format. It’s not entirely serious. There’s a little humor thrown in.
GD: You mentioned spontaneity and I want to ask you about that… but first could you provide an outline of the project itself?
GD: Sure. The subject is portraiture: specifically, portraits of my daughters and my eldest daughter’s best friend who also happens to be very close to our family. My intention is to photograph each of them over the course of a year, documenting their growth and development but also structuring narratives out of their individual and collective experiences. I think it is highly likely that the project will continue past a year… but for the moment I’m focusing on twelve months.
GD: This is terrain that has been explored by other photographers though, yes?
GD: Yes, absolutely. Sally Mann, Doug Dubois, Nicholas Nixon - these are just a few. By making immediate family and friends the subjects of their work they each share a common thread. The originality of their work is largely found, I think, in the unique relationships they forge with their subjects through the camera lens.
GD: So, for you, the originality of your project rests with the development of that unique relationship between yourself and the subjects?
GD: Exactly. An identifiable style - the distinct visual expression of the project - will emerge over time as a result of our growing relationships and the choices made in composition and editing which are shaped by circumstance and, ultimately, collaboration. These are not clearly mapped out beforehand. I may begin with an idea of how the project might look… but in the end it will develop organically. It is not subject to my control alone.
GD: Is this what you meant earlier when you spoke of ‘relinquishing control’… the spontaneity of the project?
GD: Yes. Obviously there is a need to exercise a certain control over the project. The choices of camera, lighting, formatting, printing methods, for example… these need to be determined by the photographer. But at some point you also have to relinquish control… and this is not only necessary but desirable. In this project I’m trying to minimize the conscious staging of poses before the camera lens. I want to diminish my role as ‘composer’ just prior to releasing the shutter. This is not always easy and there are some shots that reflect more control than others but generally I’m aiming for spontaneity prior to editing the images.
GD: Why is spontaneity so important to you? Is it important to your artistic expression?
GD: There is a famous anecdote in Pliny‘s Natural History. It refers to the ancient painter Protogenes who had struggled to render an image of a panting dog. Frustrated by his efforts to paint the frothing mouth of the animal - which, with each attempt, looked too artificial - he took a paint-soaked sponge and threw it at the picture. When the sponge fell the frothing mouth was complete… accidentally rendered by the sponge. Now Pliny uses this as way of demonstrating the good judgment of the artist and Protogenes, by way of example, reveals that great art is not always produced simply by the painters’ design. Sometimes the artist has to step back and let nature assist in order to produce the best work. Photographers, I think, are no less aware of this. Too much control can stifle the image.
GD: Are you suggesting that the image is unnatural if you try to exercise too much control?
GD: Not quite. Photographs aren’t natural so it seems strange to suggest that they can really be anything but artificial. And as much as some might want to believe that a portrait can capture the essence of a person we know that this is really just a myth. At the same time there are portraits that rise above others as compelling images and these are the ones that seem to capture an expression, mood or feeling that is ‘real’, at least, to the viewer. The reality is forged in the viewer’s imagination because the image is familiar. We can see ourselves reflected in it. I think it is entirely possible to stage a portrait that can reach the viewer in this way but generally the photographs that seem to do this most effectively are those that leave something to chance.
GD: Can you give examples?
GD: Well the first examples of staged portraits that come to mind are paintings and sculptures. Leonardo’s Mona Lisa has captivated viewers for over five-hundred years. Here you have an example of a portrait that can hardly be described as spontaneous yet it continues to move viewers precisely because it sustains the illusion of being ‘natural‘. In truth it is highly artificial, contrived… the sfumato effect, the golden light, the perfect skin. This is not how people appear naturally. Yet the illusion of her smile, the appearance of her eyes and hands are rendered in such a compelling manner that we forget we are looking at oil paints on a wooden panel. Instead we begin to imagine that we know the subject. She becomes ‘real’ to us. A staged photograph such as Yousuf Karsh’s portrait of Albert Einstein can equally be very powerful and compelling yet it is quite different from Arthur Sasse’s famous portrait of the same man sticking out his tongue. Spontaneity results in an image that renders a completely different image of the quiet, introspective man presented in Karsh’s photograph. Instead Sasse shows us humorous man caught in the moment. Although both of these portraits are outstanding, for me it is the photograph by Sasse that remains the most compelling because it is the one that most gives the appearance of a ‘truthful’ image. While Karsh’s photo builds up - monumentalizes - the man with solemn dignity, Sasse’s portrait strips down this public persona to give the compelling illusion of the ‘real’ man behind the photo. The same can be said for Karsh’s most famous portrait… his photograph of Winston Churchill. With only two minutes to take the portrait and a subject who was in no mood to be photographed Karsh was able to produce a timeless image by simply taking away the man’s cigar… fortuitously drawing a response from the subject that many felt captured the ‘essence’ of the man and his political office. It is not that it is any more ‘real’ than the staged photo of Einstein, it simply appears that way.
GD: Earlier you mentioned some of things that must be controlled by the photographer. Let’s talk about that. What equipment are you using for the project?
GD: As far as the camera is concerned I’m currently working with a digital SLR. I’ve recently shot a range of photos on a Nikon D90. The D90 has good resolution and it is portable. This translates into a camera that works effectively with my subjects who move quickly and don’t stand still for any length of time (on the whole). Along with this I’m finding that the kids respond well to the presence of the camera. With the D90 I can get a level of refinement in the image that is needed for the project while using a camera that does not does not make its presence strongly felt.
GD: Could you do the same with medium format?
GD: Sure but the results would be different… and not just in terms of resolution. To work with medium format I would have to rent. This is simply a matter of cost. But the minute you rent you are aware of the time factor. It conditions you to approach the subjects in a very different way. The clock is ticking and you simply can’t get the same level of spontaneity… nor can you access your subjects in the same manner. I know what I could get by working this way but that is not what I’m after.
GD: What about film?
GD: Well this is a big issue. Digital versus film. Most of the work that I’ve produced in the past has been 35mm colour transparency. Film is, quite simply, a very different thing. When you work with film you visualize the image differently from start to finish. Because digital is so flexible and immediate it has a strong appeal but you have to take into consideration that it changes your whole approach to the image - from the moment you compose the picture to the final stages of development. When I shoot with film I’m far more conscious of each image. I find that film makes me very conscious of the end result when I release the shutter… I’m picturing in my mind the finished print right at that moment and I’m striving for maximum control. With digital I’m looking at the composition but I’m aware of its tremendous mutability. So as I’m about to release the shutter I know that the end result may look very different. This works well with the aim of the project. It is better suited to this particular purpose than film.
GD: What about editing and the end result?
GD: Editing is a difficult and time-consuming process. The challenge lies not only in the selection of images but also the refinement and manipulation of those images to draw from them their full, expressive potential. For this project I’ll be using Adobe Photoshop CS5 Enhanced software to edit. The final prints however are another matter. I’m currently looking at digital conversion to dye-transfer. This will be costly and time consuming but it will yield outstanding results in the final print…
GD: Such as?
GD: Very high resolution and colour density. If you look at a dye transfer print by Irving Penn or Elliott Porter you’ll see this clearly. It is an old process but the results can’t be matched even by high level inkjet printers.
GD: One final question for now… does the project have a title?
GD: ‘Becoming’. That’s the working title for now.
GD: I tend to write rather slowly. This not only makes it challenging for me to regularly post blog entries, it also means that my entries may end up a little more pedantic than I would like. The photographic project I’m embarking on, which is directly linked to this blog, is concerned in part with spontaneity - with the struggle between control and the relinquishing of control. I want my thoughts to reflect some of that spontaneity as I share them here. Also… I think readers may find my thoughts more accessible in this format. It’s not entirely serious. There’s a little humor thrown in.
GD: You mentioned spontaneity and I want to ask you about that… but first could you provide an outline of the project itself?
GD: Sure. The subject is portraiture: specifically, portraits of my daughters and my eldest daughter’s best friend who also happens to be very close to our family. My intention is to photograph each of them over the course of a year, documenting their growth and development but also structuring narratives out of their individual and collective experiences. I think it is highly likely that the project will continue past a year… but for the moment I’m focusing on twelve months.
GD: This is terrain that has been explored by other photographers though, yes?
GD: Yes, absolutely. Sally Mann, Doug Dubois, Nicholas Nixon - these are just a few. By making immediate family and friends the subjects of their work they each share a common thread. The originality of their work is largely found, I think, in the unique relationships they forge with their subjects through the camera lens.
GD: So, for you, the originality of your project rests with the development of that unique relationship between yourself and the subjects?
GD: Exactly. An identifiable style - the distinct visual expression of the project - will emerge over time as a result of our growing relationships and the choices made in composition and editing which are shaped by circumstance and, ultimately, collaboration. These are not clearly mapped out beforehand. I may begin with an idea of how the project might look… but in the end it will develop organically. It is not subject to my control alone.
GD: Is this what you meant earlier when you spoke of ‘relinquishing control’… the spontaneity of the project?
GD: Yes. Obviously there is a need to exercise a certain control over the project. The choices of camera, lighting, formatting, printing methods, for example… these need to be determined by the photographer. But at some point you also have to relinquish control… and this is not only necessary but desirable. In this project I’m trying to minimize the conscious staging of poses before the camera lens. I want to diminish my role as ‘composer’ just prior to releasing the shutter. This is not always easy and there are some shots that reflect more control than others but generally I’m aiming for spontaneity prior to editing the images.
GD: Why is spontaneity so important to you? Is it important to your artistic expression?
GD: There is a famous anecdote in Pliny‘s Natural History. It refers to the ancient painter Protogenes who had struggled to render an image of a panting dog. Frustrated by his efforts to paint the frothing mouth of the animal - which, with each attempt, looked too artificial - he took a paint-soaked sponge and threw it at the picture. When the sponge fell the frothing mouth was complete… accidentally rendered by the sponge. Now Pliny uses this as way of demonstrating the good judgment of the artist and Protogenes, by way of example, reveals that great art is not always produced simply by the painters’ design. Sometimes the artist has to step back and let nature assist in order to produce the best work. Photographers, I think, are no less aware of this. Too much control can stifle the image.
GD: Are you suggesting that the image is unnatural if you try to exercise too much control?
GD: Not quite. Photographs aren’t natural so it seems strange to suggest that they can really be anything but artificial. And as much as some might want to believe that a portrait can capture the essence of a person we know that this is really just a myth. At the same time there are portraits that rise above others as compelling images and these are the ones that seem to capture an expression, mood or feeling that is ‘real’, at least, to the viewer. The reality is forged in the viewer’s imagination because the image is familiar. We can see ourselves reflected in it. I think it is entirely possible to stage a portrait that can reach the viewer in this way but generally the photographs that seem to do this most effectively are those that leave something to chance.
GD: Can you give examples?
GD: Well the first examples of staged portraits that come to mind are paintings and sculptures. Leonardo’s Mona Lisa has captivated viewers for over five-hundred years. Here you have an example of a portrait that can hardly be described as spontaneous yet it continues to move viewers precisely because it sustains the illusion of being ‘natural‘. In truth it is highly artificial, contrived… the sfumato effect, the golden light, the perfect skin. This is not how people appear naturally. Yet the illusion of her smile, the appearance of her eyes and hands are rendered in such a compelling manner that we forget we are looking at oil paints on a wooden panel. Instead we begin to imagine that we know the subject. She becomes ‘real’ to us. A staged photograph such as Yousuf Karsh’s portrait of Albert Einstein can equally be very powerful and compelling yet it is quite different from Arthur Sasse’s famous portrait of the same man sticking out his tongue. Spontaneity results in an image that renders a completely different image of the quiet, introspective man presented in Karsh’s photograph. Instead Sasse shows us humorous man caught in the moment. Although both of these portraits are outstanding, for me it is the photograph by Sasse that remains the most compelling because it is the one that most gives the appearance of a ‘truthful’ image. While Karsh’s photo builds up - monumentalizes - the man with solemn dignity, Sasse’s portrait strips down this public persona to give the compelling illusion of the ‘real’ man behind the photo. The same can be said for Karsh’s most famous portrait… his photograph of Winston Churchill. With only two minutes to take the portrait and a subject who was in no mood to be photographed Karsh was able to produce a timeless image by simply taking away the man’s cigar… fortuitously drawing a response from the subject that many felt captured the ‘essence’ of the man and his political office. It is not that it is any more ‘real’ than the staged photo of Einstein, it simply appears that way.
GD: Earlier you mentioned some of things that must be controlled by the photographer. Let’s talk about that. What equipment are you using for the project?
GD: As far as the camera is concerned I’m currently working with a digital SLR. I’ve recently shot a range of photos on a Nikon D90. The D90 has good resolution and it is portable. This translates into a camera that works effectively with my subjects who move quickly and don’t stand still for any length of time (on the whole). Along with this I’m finding that the kids respond well to the presence of the camera. With the D90 I can get a level of refinement in the image that is needed for the project while using a camera that does not does not make its presence strongly felt.
GD: Could you do the same with medium format?
GD: Sure but the results would be different… and not just in terms of resolution. To work with medium format I would have to rent. This is simply a matter of cost. But the minute you rent you are aware of the time factor. It conditions you to approach the subjects in a very different way. The clock is ticking and you simply can’t get the same level of spontaneity… nor can you access your subjects in the same manner. I know what I could get by working this way but that is not what I’m after.
GD: What about film?
GD: Well this is a big issue. Digital versus film. Most of the work that I’ve produced in the past has been 35mm colour transparency. Film is, quite simply, a very different thing. When you work with film you visualize the image differently from start to finish. Because digital is so flexible and immediate it has a strong appeal but you have to take into consideration that it changes your whole approach to the image - from the moment you compose the picture to the final stages of development. When I shoot with film I’m far more conscious of each image. I find that film makes me very conscious of the end result when I release the shutter… I’m picturing in my mind the finished print right at that moment and I’m striving for maximum control. With digital I’m looking at the composition but I’m aware of its tremendous mutability. So as I’m about to release the shutter I know that the end result may look very different. This works well with the aim of the project. It is better suited to this particular purpose than film.
GD: What about editing and the end result?
GD: Editing is a difficult and time-consuming process. The challenge lies not only in the selection of images but also the refinement and manipulation of those images to draw from them their full, expressive potential. For this project I’ll be using Adobe Photoshop CS5 Enhanced software to edit. The final prints however are another matter. I’m currently looking at digital conversion to dye-transfer. This will be costly and time consuming but it will yield outstanding results in the final print…
GD: Such as?
GD: Very high resolution and colour density. If you look at a dye transfer print by Irving Penn or Elliott Porter you’ll see this clearly. It is an old process but the results can’t be matched even by high level inkjet printers.
GD: One final question for now… does the project have a title?
GD: ‘Becoming’. That’s the working title for now.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Testing out the twin-lens today. Ilford Delta 100 is loaded and ready to go. I haven't used this camera in a long time. Hopefully I should be able to compare the results with the Nikon D-90 next week.
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