An overview of the more successful photos I took for this first assignment.
Some black/whites from the last set
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Assignment 1: Final Reflections
I think for the most part the narratives suggested in Assignment 1 match the narratives of the subjects. I am not certain my captions represent absolute truth about the narratives of the subjects--in some cases I know I emphasized certain aspects of the narrative I perceived. Perhaps the man and the boy playing basketball were just having fun, and weren't really practicing for something in particular. In the case of the second photo, I could point out the presence of a person out-of-frame, which gave that particular narrative a little more to go on than just the couple's charming and somewhat shy reaction to my presence as the photographer. I took an educated guess in one of the pictures where I was trying to be inconspicuous: I do not know if the little girl in the third picture is resting with family or friends. I also made the little girl the main subject of that photograph, whereas I could probably have made the two young women deep in some important conversation talking by the fountain the subject. The narrative of the last three I can say was depicted in a straight-forward manner--it was also the group of people with whom I had the most interaction and can remember the most detail about their meeting as I photographed them.
I think in the end, the difference between photojournalism and snapshot photography derives from the importance of the relationship between the subject and photographer. It seems to me as though in snapshot photography, the subjects themselves impose their own meaning on a scene, or perhaps the situation/environment does so for them, because of the presence of a camera. (The meanings in these cases also seem to be relatively superficial, if we go with the stereotype, or perhaps only accessible to those who personally know the subjects.) In photojournalism, the photographer can impose his own meaning on the scene, or perhaps represent it truly faithfully to its original context, but those decisions will be heavily influenced by the relationship the photographer has to the subjects, rather than the camera, per se.
I think in the end, the difference between photojournalism and snapshot photography derives from the importance of the relationship between the subject and photographer. It seems to me as though in snapshot photography, the subjects themselves impose their own meaning on a scene, or perhaps the situation/environment does so for them, because of the presence of a camera. (The meanings in these cases also seem to be relatively superficial, if we go with the stereotype, or perhaps only accessible to those who personally know the subjects.) In photojournalism, the photographer can impose his own meaning on the scene, or perhaps represent it truly faithfully to its original context, but those decisions will be heavily influenced by the relationship the photographer has to the subjects, rather than the camera, per se.
Assignment 1: Images and Captions
After training at a Lake Daniel Greenway basketball court for half an hour
in the wintry chill of a Sunday evening, the boy's mentor checks his pupil's
hook shot technique.
in the wintry chill of a Sunday evening, the boy's mentor checks his pupil's
hook shot technique.
A young couple joke around with a friend in downtown Greensboro,
near the entrance of a restaurant which has not yet opened
for its Saturday evening clientele.
near the entrance of a restaurant which has not yet opened
for its Saturday evening clientele.
A young girl seeks respite with her family after a brief playtime in Greensboro's Center City Park on a Saturday afternoon.
~~~
~~~
A group of college students spend a Sunday afternoon discussing ideas
for a zombie apocalypse-themed web series just outside their apartments
on S. Mendenhall St.
for a zombie apocalypse-themed web series just outside their apartments
on S. Mendenhall St.
Jason, notebook and pencil in hand, leads and organizes the discussion,
breaching the topic of main character concepts.
breaching the topic of main character concepts.
Jason takes notes as Chris elaborates on the character of "Bill",
the stereotypical classically trained actor: "You know, he's always like
'My name is William' and everyone else is like 'Shut the **** up, Bill!"
Thoughts on "Seeing Isn't Always Believing"
Truth.
Well, truth's a funny thing.
I suppose this issue really depends on what kind of truth an artist or an audience desires or requires. Historical truth, personal truth, visual truth...There are different truths. It also depends on whether you want or value truth over belief. People will tend to have faith in a photograph, because it is a like a tangible visible piece of the world at a moment in time, but even an un-tampered photograph may not be "true" simply by representing something instantaneous within a certain spatial frame.
It's just another version of the fiction/fact argument.
A couple of quotes concerning truth/belief/fiction come to mind. I think they are worth consideration, though they don't concern photography directly. The first is from the film Secondhand Lions:
"Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe in the most. That people are basically good; that honor, courage, and virtue mean everything; that power and money, money and power mean nothing...Doesn't matter if it's true or not. You see, a man should believe in those things because those are the things worth believing in."
I also am reminded of the seventh chapter of Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried.
The Things They Carried is set up as a novel with twenty two chapters, however, many of these chapters were first published separately as short stories; O’Brien later combined them for the book. All its subject matter discusses or directly refers to the Vietnam War—sometimes the war itself, or sometimes its affect on those involved afterwards—which presumably he derived from his own and others’ experiences during the war. A note preceding the novel says, “This is a work of fiction. Except for a few details regarding the author’s own life, all the incidents, names and characters are imaginary.” As O’Brien explains in “How to Tell a True War Story,” and reiterates throughout the novel, things that never actually happened, what is called “fiction” can, in fact, be truer than any “truth.” He admits that many of the things he wrote about didn’t actually happen necessarily the way he wrote them, if at all, but they’re true. (That’s his take on “fiction.”)
“For example, we’ve all heard this one. Four guys go down a trail. A grenade sails out. One guy jumps on it and takes the blast and saves his three buddies.
Is it true?
The answer matters.
You’d feel cheated if it never happened. . . a true war story does not depend upon that kind of truth. Absolute occurrence is irrelevant. A thing may happen and be a total lie; another thing may not happen and be truer than the truth. For example: Four guys go down a trail. A grenade sails out. One guy jumps on it and takes the blast, but it’s a killer grenade and everybody dies anyway. Before they die though, one of the dead guys says, “The fuck you do that for?” and the jumper says, “Story of my life, man,” and the other guy starts to smile but he’s dead.
That’s a true war story that never happened”
Well, truth's a funny thing.
I suppose this issue really depends on what kind of truth an artist or an audience desires or requires. Historical truth, personal truth, visual truth...There are different truths. It also depends on whether you want or value truth over belief. People will tend to have faith in a photograph, because it is a like a tangible visible piece of the world at a moment in time, but even an un-tampered photograph may not be "true" simply by representing something instantaneous within a certain spatial frame.
It's just another version of the fiction/fact argument.
A couple of quotes concerning truth/belief/fiction come to mind. I think they are worth consideration, though they don't concern photography directly. The first is from the film Secondhand Lions:
"Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe in the most. That people are basically good; that honor, courage, and virtue mean everything; that power and money, money and power mean nothing...Doesn't matter if it's true or not. You see, a man should believe in those things because those are the things worth believing in."
I also am reminded of the seventh chapter of Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried.
The Things They Carried is set up as a novel with twenty two chapters, however, many of these chapters were first published separately as short stories; O’Brien later combined them for the book. All its subject matter discusses or directly refers to the Vietnam War—sometimes the war itself, or sometimes its affect on those involved afterwards—which presumably he derived from his own and others’ experiences during the war. A note preceding the novel says, “This is a work of fiction. Except for a few details regarding the author’s own life, all the incidents, names and characters are imaginary.” As O’Brien explains in “How to Tell a True War Story,” and reiterates throughout the novel, things that never actually happened, what is called “fiction” can, in fact, be truer than any “truth.” He admits that many of the things he wrote about didn’t actually happen necessarily the way he wrote them, if at all, but they’re true. (That’s his take on “fiction.”)
“For example, we’ve all heard this one. Four guys go down a trail. A grenade sails out. One guy jumps on it and takes the blast and saves his three buddies.
Is it true?
The answer matters.
You’d feel cheated if it never happened. . . a true war story does not depend upon that kind of truth. Absolute occurrence is irrelevant. A thing may happen and be a total lie; another thing may not happen and be truer than the truth. For example: Four guys go down a trail. A grenade sails out. One guy jumps on it and takes the blast, but it’s a killer grenade and everybody dies anyway. Before they die though, one of the dead guys says, “The fuck you do that for?” and the jumper says, “Story of my life, man,” and the other guy starts to smile but he’s dead.
That’s a true war story that never happened”
A Smattering of Street Photographers
Richard Ford is an Australian photographer and entrepreneur who lives in Beijing. Though he calls photography just a hobby, he seems to be a pretty intense hobbyist who carries his camera with him everywhere. I find myself very drawn to the spatial composition of his photos, as well as to the amusing and intriguing moments of humanity he seems to find.
I can't seem to find much information about this particular Claire Martin...but I enjoy the expressiveness of the peoples' faces and/or gestures in her portraits. There is often a soft, pensive qualities to her pictures; in general, she seems to be drawn to moments of calm or suspension or quietness (judging from her collection). She captures an elusive quality in the subjects, and the intriguing sensation that there is something more and deeper that what is seen. (This feeling does seem to match the testimonial on her Flickr account which compliments her sensitivity and gentleness in her work.)
Brian Soko is a street photographer in Chicago who focuses on people as subjects. I'm very attracted to his sensitivity to lighting, and his strong sense of surface and depth. He also has a talent for capturing interesting, unusual visual perspectives of people, as well as momentary relationships of people literally passing each other on the street. Photographs of the latter sort in particular have a very narrative quality to them, even if the narrative is purely spatial or through value contrast.
I can't seem to find much information about this particular Claire Martin...but I enjoy the expressiveness of the peoples' faces and/or gestures in her portraits. There is often a soft, pensive qualities to her pictures; in general, she seems to be drawn to moments of calm or suspension or quietness (judging from her collection). She captures an elusive quality in the subjects, and the intriguing sensation that there is something more and deeper that what is seen. (This feeling does seem to match the testimonial on her Flickr account which compliments her sensitivity and gentleness in her work.)
Brian Soko is a street photographer in Chicago who focuses on people as subjects. I'm very attracted to his sensitivity to lighting, and his strong sense of surface and depth. He also has a talent for capturing interesting, unusual visual perspectives of people, as well as momentary relationships of people literally passing each other on the street. Photographs of the latter sort in particular have a very narrative quality to them, even if the narrative is purely spatial or through value contrast.
Smiles: thoughts on "The Space Test"
"I think there's a common supposition in fine-art portraiture that too much emotion can interfere with revelation. To get at someone's true character one needs to dig beyond flitting moods like happiness or brooding. Those get in the way, and in fact it takes work to avoid them. To get the shot you hang around a person. If they happen to be laughing you wait it out, and you certainly don't ask for a smile. Finally when the moment is right, when they're showing nothing, you have them stare at the camera and the image magically shows who they are. That's the idea anyway.
But I think the larger reason has to do with cheesy snapshots. Artists want to separate themselves from the common rabble. Since smiles are what you see in greeting cards and yearbooks and weddings, the best way to show that your work doesn't belong with those is not to show smiles. It's the age-old dilemma of photography. When everyone's a photographer how do you keep low-art and high-art from mixing, or, if you're going to mix them, how do you ensure the mongrel still qualifies as high-art? In this case you axe the smile."
I don't think I really believe in the idea that "too much emotion can interfere with revelation." For one, I'm not sure that fine-art portraiture has to be revelatory. I don't see anything particularly undesirable about capturing so-called flitting moods, or that such transient emotions get in the way of capturing someone's character. Perhaps a photo of that fleeting moment of giddiness or anger could be just as or more insightful than a photo "showing nothing."
...I'm also not sure that I believe that a person ever really shows nothing, even in what might typically be considered an emotionless expression. I also don't believe that a person could necessarily capture the true or pure character of a person in a single shot. People, I think, are a little more complex and faceted than that.
I would have to make an effort to look through all the photos I've taken of friends, family, strangers to really see, but just from memory I believe many of my favorite portraits actually started out as just snapshoting. I do prefer candid portraits of people over the cheesy kind, but there are a number of posed shots that I found to be very revealing, even natural-looking.
John said... "Adults laugh or smile only 15 times a day. Most of the time we are in a casual, expressionless state. Isn't deadpan less about a photographic style and more about capturing the honest the more common and honest expression?
Most photographers looking to have an honest dialog with the subject and capture an honest expression will ask the person to "act natural." When people stop their staged smile, there is a release of tension and the relationship moves from subject/camera to subject/photographer. That's honest and real."
This is an interesting thought, that capturing the deadpan is finding the most common expression in photographing, and not something I might have thought of myself. For the most part, I consider the range of human emotions to be honest, potentially anyway, but it's intriguing to focus perhaps on the "commonplace" emotions as opposed to the more vociferous expressions. I can understand the part about the honest dialogue. I myself tend to approach strangers I wish to photograph with a "Just go on as you are" or sometimes "Pretend I'm not here" out of a desire to capture more candid moments. It does become less about the subject responding to the camera and more about the subject responding to the photographer, or perhaps even responding as if nothing had interrupted or occurred.
"Mike Peters said... Well, to me, and the reason I opt for people not smiling, is that a smile is often merely a mask that people put on as a means of hiding how they really feel at any given moment."
"RichD said...
Smiling, even that big crinkly smile, doesn't necessarily connote or communicate happiness. Happy people don't always smile, and unhappy people don't necessarily *not* smile. People smile for any number of reasons, and one of the biggest reasons people do it (at least in modern American culture) is to make people THINK they're happy, when they're really not. The smile has become a social mask, a shallow affectation that people hide behind when they're out in public. The very kind of shallow affectation that a portrait artist works so hard to strip away."
Both of these statements are generally true. I'd actually be interested in portraiture which focuses perhaps on the different kinds of smiling, from the genuinely happy to the predatory shark grin to the forced painful face-hurting smile. Deception and masks can be just as intriguing as plain, honest truth...and isn't there inherently some truth in the presence of deception itself?
"Dana Reed said... Not smiling doesn't have to mean deadpan. What seem the best portraits to me, that really caught my attention, have the subject really communicating something. Expressive eyes, facial expressions that convey feelings, body language, all make it seem to me that the subject is communicating with you. And smiles would be included in that range of expressions. I don't see how a person showing no emotion communicates anything revealing about them. I'd say it more allows the viewer to form conjecture, and says more about the viewer than the subject. When I make a portrait, I engage my subject, and wait, and when I choose to press the shutter, I am trying to capture a fleeting moment where they have revealed something about themselves, in their expressions, their body language, that really shows an aspect of their character. And for me, that's what a good portrait is about."
I tend to agree with Ms. Reed on not seeing how an emotionless face necessarily communicates something revealing about them. I suppose it would depend on the specific situation, but in general, I don't think some pictoral "truth" can only be found in a neutral expression. I suppose my approach to portraits is similar to hers here in engaging the subject, waiting and watching for the moment which interests me, to which I respond. Even when subjects fail to quite act "naturally", or still seem very aware of the camera, there are things to be revealed about a person even in such a situation.
But I think the larger reason has to do with cheesy snapshots. Artists want to separate themselves from the common rabble. Since smiles are what you see in greeting cards and yearbooks and weddings, the best way to show that your work doesn't belong with those is not to show smiles. It's the age-old dilemma of photography. When everyone's a photographer how do you keep low-art and high-art from mixing, or, if you're going to mix them, how do you ensure the mongrel still qualifies as high-art? In this case you axe the smile."
I don't think I really believe in the idea that "too much emotion can interfere with revelation." For one, I'm not sure that fine-art portraiture has to be revelatory. I don't see anything particularly undesirable about capturing so-called flitting moods, or that such transient emotions get in the way of capturing someone's character. Perhaps a photo of that fleeting moment of giddiness or anger could be just as or more insightful than a photo "showing nothing."
...I'm also not sure that I believe that a person ever really shows nothing, even in what might typically be considered an emotionless expression. I also don't believe that a person could necessarily capture the true or pure character of a person in a single shot. People, I think, are a little more complex and faceted than that.
I would have to make an effort to look through all the photos I've taken of friends, family, strangers to really see, but just from memory I believe many of my favorite portraits actually started out as just snapshoting. I do prefer candid portraits of people over the cheesy kind, but there are a number of posed shots that I found to be very revealing, even natural-looking.
John said... "Adults laugh or smile only 15 times a day. Most of the time we are in a casual, expressionless state. Isn't deadpan less about a photographic style and more about capturing the honest the more common and honest expression?
Most photographers looking to have an honest dialog with the subject and capture an honest expression will ask the person to "act natural." When people stop their staged smile, there is a release of tension and the relationship moves from subject/camera to subject/photographer. That's honest and real."
This is an interesting thought, that capturing the deadpan is finding the most common expression in photographing, and not something I might have thought of myself. For the most part, I consider the range of human emotions to be honest, potentially anyway, but it's intriguing to focus perhaps on the "commonplace" emotions as opposed to the more vociferous expressions. I can understand the part about the honest dialogue. I myself tend to approach strangers I wish to photograph with a "Just go on as you are" or sometimes "Pretend I'm not here" out of a desire to capture more candid moments. It does become less about the subject responding to the camera and more about the subject responding to the photographer, or perhaps even responding as if nothing had interrupted or occurred.
"Mike Peters said... Well, to me, and the reason I opt for people not smiling, is that a smile is often merely a mask that people put on as a means of hiding how they really feel at any given moment."
"RichD said...
Smiling, even that big crinkly smile, doesn't necessarily connote or communicate happiness. Happy people don't always smile, and unhappy people don't necessarily *not* smile. People smile for any number of reasons, and one of the biggest reasons people do it (at least in modern American culture) is to make people THINK they're happy, when they're really not. The smile has become a social mask, a shallow affectation that people hide behind when they're out in public. The very kind of shallow affectation that a portrait artist works so hard to strip away."
Both of these statements are generally true. I'd actually be interested in portraiture which focuses perhaps on the different kinds of smiling, from the genuinely happy to the predatory shark grin to the forced painful face-hurting smile. Deception and masks can be just as intriguing as plain, honest truth...and isn't there inherently some truth in the presence of deception itself?
"Dana Reed said... Not smiling doesn't have to mean deadpan. What seem the best portraits to me, that really caught my attention, have the subject really communicating something. Expressive eyes, facial expressions that convey feelings, body language, all make it seem to me that the subject is communicating with you. And smiles would be included in that range of expressions. I don't see how a person showing no emotion communicates anything revealing about them. I'd say it more allows the viewer to form conjecture, and says more about the viewer than the subject. When I make a portrait, I engage my subject, and wait, and when I choose to press the shutter, I am trying to capture a fleeting moment where they have revealed something about themselves, in their expressions, their body language, that really shows an aspect of their character. And for me, that's what a good portrait is about."
I tend to agree with Ms. Reed on not seeing how an emotionless face necessarily communicates something revealing about them. I suppose it would depend on the specific situation, but in general, I don't think some pictoral "truth" can only be found in a neutral expression. I suppose my approach to portraits is similar to hers here in engaging the subject, waiting and watching for the moment which interests me, to which I respond. Even when subjects fail to quite act "naturally", or still seem very aware of the camera, there are things to be revealed about a person even in such a situation.
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