Nathan Proctor's Blog

"How David Beats Goliath" by Malcolm Gladwell

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Wed, 06 May 2009 21:33:00 +0000

I just read an excellent article about the importance of effort. Gladwell posits that effort is more important than ability. He backs it up in true Gladwellian fashion with copious amounts of examples. Any article about an Indian software geek coaching a team of nonathletic white kids who reach the national "little-league" championships, while at the same time weaving stories about Lawrence of Arabia and David and Goliath, is an interesting read.

The article is from the New Yorker and can be read in full here: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/11/090511fa_fact_gladwell

My Greatest Lesson in Life

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 23:24:00 +0000

“Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they're supposed to help you discover who you are.” ~ Bernice Johnson Reagon

One of the greatest things I have learned is the ability of the human spirit to grow stronger through failure. After graduating high school and through my early twenties my goal in life was to get by with as little effort as possible. This was true of academics, sports, art, and so on. I didn’t fail at anything; I just skated by in life. It wasn’t until I failed miserably at life that I actually learned something important. This all hit me while I drove from to the Bay Area from Los Angeles, coming back home to live with my parents. I had just spent the previous five months hopping from couch to couch, with no money, debts mounting up, miserable, seeing my life go nowhere but downward, at times sleeping in my car, knowing people I shouldn’t, and truly and honestly not caring about life. In retrospect, I can say I had hit rock bottom, but it is because of this failure that I can say today that I am driven for success, not in the monetary sense, but in a sense of self-worth and the worth to those around me. All of a sudden, I cared about my life with vigor and enthusiasm. How can I grow, learn, and contribute to society? That was when I decided to go back to school. I always loved to learn, I just didn’t give it very much effort. I now understand the incredible value of effort. Without effort nothing truly valuable will be gained. So I hit the books hard. Surrounding myself with the readings of Dickenson, Emerson, Whitman, Hughes, I learned about the human condition; I learned that failure is something everyone goes through; and I learned that I was a better person because of my “L.A. experience.” I realize the importance of learning from failures and using them as a driving force to be a better person.

This night drive back from Los Angeles was quite the emotional moment, which cannot be put into words. Another thing that occurred to me during my night drive up I-5 was the concept of selfishness. I was convinced that I was never a selfish person. Nothing could have been far from the truth. I was only out to serve myself and never thought about others. It was all about me. “I” wanted not to work, so I was lazy at work; “I” wanted to choose my job, so I was homeless; “I” wanted to get decent grades but still party, so I received mostly Bs and some Cs. Today, nothing could be more satisfying than giving back to others. This could be as simple as sharing a poem to a friend whom I think would find inspiring or uplifting, to teaching young people the value of art, and to engaging in critical discussion about the meaning of a short story with my parents and classmates. In the end, sharing with others only enriches my life.
I no longer skate by in life with as little effort as possible. Instead, I take life and tackle it’s greatest difficulties. How can I contribute to society and become a better person? Where is my greatest weakness and how can I grow as a human being? Life is difficult and I learned that the hard way. Yet once I learned this vital lesson, I do not just accept the difficulties, I seek after them. My greatest advancements, not just in academia but also in life, have come as a result of my greatest difficulties. I am currently in the hardest moment of my life: working full time while taking classes, continuing my love for art and photography, and inspiring and teaching others about all forms of art (visual and non-visual). While I am not suggesting that everyone needs to have such a dismal failure in life to grow and learn, my failure (or rather my learning from my great failure) has made me an exponentially greater and richer person.

In a way, the way I use my failure to drive my success reminds me of Sherman Alexie’s character Thomas Builds-the-Fire. Thomas is a storyteller and, like most Native American Indians, he has a painful past. His father died fighting for a country that tried to kill him and his mother died giving birth to him. Yet the pain of these memories does not confuse and consume Thomas. Instead of wandering in search of his identity, the pain seems to make his purpose more clear; he uses the pain of his past as a driving force for his measured determination. I too use my past to motive my future successes.

artists function

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:49:00 +0000

"The artist's function is to reflect the culture back to itself, not solve its problems." ~ Poet Brenda Hillman

Why art?

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:38:00 +0000

Art is a condition of human life. In Karl Paulnack’s welcome address to freshman at Boston Conservatory, he talks about the amazing amount of art the Jewish people created while at concentration camps during World War II. He says,

why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy [creating art]? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture-why would anyone bother with [art]? And yet-from the camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art; it wasn't just this one fanatic Messiaen (composer); many, many people created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without recreation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, ‘I am alive, and my life has meaning.’

(Substituted art for music—in this case the words are synonymous). When the city of New York (and the country of America) looked for something to help heal the wounds after the attack on 9/11, they turned to art. Art is an essential means of expression that is engrained in our biology. Without art, truly, culture does not survive. We as artists bear responsibilities similar to surgeons. We heal wounds, we save lives, and we give reason and meaning for life.

anything is possible!

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 23:23:00 +0000

Everything is Possible - video powered by Metacafe

The Red Wheelbarrow

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 21:10:00 +0000

"The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams.

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

This superb, simple poem is intensely thought provoking. I won't go into what I think about it, nor it's meaning. In fact, I think it isn't meant to mean anything other than what it is. It reminds me of "Fountain' by Marcel Duchamp in the way it makes you consider something in a new way. The one problem I have is the lack of emotion. It spurs conversation and thought, but doesn't spur my body and heart. Yet it is still a remarkable poem.

why do I photograph?

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 04:50:00 +0000

I have been questioning a lot of things trying to get a deeper understanding of art, photography, and what their roles in my life are. I have come to a conclusion; albeit I am not sure if my answer is true, but it feels true. There is a poem I just read by Robert Hayden called "Those Winter Sundays" that sparked my theory.

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

Why did Robert's dad, even in the cold of winter on Sunday mornings, get out of bed before anyone else to warm the rooms for his family, even when he would get no appreciation? The answer is love. You do things out of love that have no logic, but you feel with every bone in your body you need to do it without care if you get appreciation. In fact, quite often, love can feel lonely. Art is that same kind of love. It can be lonely, it can be frustrating, and quite often it goes unappreciated (even by yourself). Yet you feel with every part of you that you need to create, you need to express yourself. When I take a photograph that moves me in a peculiar way, it just clicks and everything feels right. So when I struggle through days, weeks, and months not knowing why I photograph or where it is all going, I need to realize that photography is a part of me, like a child is part of their mother. I will give my heart to art, even if it won't give back to me. So that is why I photograph. It is a part of who I am. It is a part of my genetic make up. It just feels right.

basic rules to editing

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 17:46:00 +0000

I found this on the wonderful blog Ground Glass by Cara Phillips.

If an image is in your edit because just because you personally love it, dump it. If it is an image you always have to explain to people, dump it. If you have it in because you think it is important for content, dump it. If you have to keep trying to find a way to make it “work in the edit,” dump it.

important words

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 17:44:00 +0000

"Somebody said recently that the best thing a student could do was to get in some shows and publish a book, but nothing about becoming a human being, nothing about having important feelings or concepts of humanity. That’s the sort of thing that is bad education. I’d say be a human being first and if you happen to wind up using photography, that’s good for photography." - Henry Holmes Smith

portrait session that made me think

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 07:28:00 +0000

Today I photographed an artist named Jonah. This was different than any shoot I have had before. I met him at the perfect time in my journey because I am just now starting to question why I photograph. What purpose am I taking pictures of all these people? While I have no answer, he provided me with many things to think about, and that is the best gift of art. To make you think. To ask you questions you either cannot answer or have avoided.

So, why do I take portraits? A part of it is selfish: I photograph to meet people and hear their stories and in doing so, I feel more whole and alive. Everyone has a story to tell - everyone. The question is how do I incorporate and weave my own story in with these stories that I hear and witness. What questions can I ask an audience? In the hour, or two, that I meet, talk, and photograph these people I build a friendship and connection, so I also photograph the connection between the person and myself. I strongly believe that there is always a connection to another human being, regardless of race, age, religion, and so on. Thus, it is important for me to some how represent someone's story, but also weave into the photograph my own story and how we have a connection. I give a piece of me to whoever I photograph and, hopefully, they give a piece of their self to me. A part of who I am today and how I think is because of all the people I have photographed. It is much more than just taking a photo. In fact, thinking about it, I would say taking a photo is secondary to the connection and bond we form in those few hours. The photo is an expression of that connection. During those hours, I learn about life. The problem that I believe I face is that I haven't learned about myself; it has mainly been about trying to portray the other person. I attempted to take myself objectively out of the picture. Truth is, that isn't nearly as interesting. Since I aim to photograph the bond and connection I have with the person, that it is vital to show both the person and myself in the photograph. How I do that? I have no clue!

John F. Kennedy

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 19:34:00 +0000

J.F.K. was extremely supportive of the arts and perhaps the last President to truly understand the importance of art to society and to education. Art is not a frivolous activity like many business people might think.

"I see little of more importance to the future of our country and of civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist. If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him." (John F. Kennedy)

and just for fun (and of great importance)...

"The highest duty of the writer, the composer, the artist is to remain true to himself and let the chips fall where they may." (John F. Kennedy)

decoding art and literature

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 23:00:00 +0000

I don't give myself enough time to decipher literature and art. It takes patience, determination, and time to break the code of good art. I throw it away because i don't understand the work quickly (or look for the answer to what it means so i don't have to spend time struggling to figure it out). This is possibly a habit of the modern era where we have instant messaging, email, cell phones, and other instant gratification devices. My generation (in the United States) has basically been raised since birth to expect instant gratification. In some regards, it is out of survival; we are bombarded with images and text everyday and our brains have to be able to sort through and decipher very quickly their importance and meaning.Subsequently, I need to retrain my brain to slow down, think for myself, and allow myself struggle through this process because in the end it is much better for me to have struggled to find an answer, than to have moved on, or seek the answer that some other person has realized. Life is much easier to understand when you slow down.

The Photographers Journey

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 05:25:00 +0000

The mollusk-shell of civilization, in which we more and more completely enclose ourselves, is lined on the inside with a nacreous layer that is opaque, rainbow-tinted, and an inch thick. It is impossible to see through it to the world; it works, rather, as a reflecting surface upon which we cast the self-flattering outlines and the optimistic tints of our preconceptions of what the world is. (126)

This elegantly crafted opening paragraph to the essay “The Unforeseen Wilderness” by Wendell Berry in the book The Education of a Photographer is, at first, surprising to read in a collection of essays about photography. Yet this essay, to me, is one of the most powerful and inspirational essays in the book. It clearly defines the purpose and journey of a photographic artist.

The opening paragraph is a description of man who has surrounded himself by his own construct so that he feels protected. Berry states a tourist photographer is like one of those people in that “mollusk-shell” who looks upon the world with “our preconceptions of what the world is.” The tourist photographer photographs “only what he has been prepared to see by other people's photographs.” In doing so, he actually doesn't truly go to the place and experience the place for what it is; he, rather, experiences the place he expects it to be and takes photographs that he thinks he is expected to take (such as a picture of he and his family in front of the Eiffel Tower). It proves he was there without actually having experienced being there.

So what is the purpose of this introduction? When and how does she tie into photography? A photographic artist is not the kind of man that sits inside his “mollusk-shell” looking at his own preconceptions of the world; he actually experiences the place he is in. This is a concept that Zen Buddhism calls being in the present. Photography is “an instrument of perception or discovery,” but before a photographer can be “a seer he must be a looker.” He does so by not expecting or preconceiving what a place should be; his mind is blank (another reference to Zen Buddhism): “. . . he does not know what he is going to see, he does not know the next picture. He has entered into the darkness—in order to see!” The concept of going into the darkness in order to see is something I firmly believe in. In fact, those exact words I have stressed before I even read this (something I probably picked up from my readings on Zen). By going to a place with a blank mind, you can truly experience the place and see it for what it really is. Berry states that a photograph must “confront the world alone, and learn to see it for himself: 'first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast the most out of they brother's eye.” An artist must go out into the darkness alone in order to experience it because “nobody can discover the world for anybody else.” You must have your own experiences of being in the place before you truly see and understand the world. “It is only after we have discovered it for ourselves that it becomes a common ground and a common bond, and we cease to be alone.” After discovering the world through the practice of photographic observation, the photographer is able to bring back his boon to society in order to share (in photographs) what he has learned. This journey of a photographer that Berry talks about relates closely to the “Hero's Journey” that Joseph Campbell theorizes in his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces. The final step in a hero's journey is bringing back that boon and sharing it with society. For a photographer, he shares his observations through photographs.

Although Berry romanticizes and makes a hero out of the photographer, the essay is beautifully written and is a wonderful description of the purpose and journey of a photographer. This essay should be read by all artists and should be taught to children to understand the importance of photography. Give it to tourists too! They will get more out of traveling. Often when I am traveling I don't take pictures. The reason being I feel like a man trapped behind something and I don't truly experience the place. Perhaps I am scared of the dark and not willing to venture into the unknown. This journey is not just about traveling though. When I walk around my neighborhood after work with my camera in my hand, this is the journey I attempt to take.

The book The Education of a Photographer is an extraordinary book that I highly recommend to any photographer. I tag places that I want to go back and reread and I have tagged so many places in this book that I basically will be rereading almost every essay! Buy the book from Amazon here.

kandinsky's writings

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 23:04:00 +0000

Kandisky was a prolific writer. I am not if the translations are bad or that he wasn't an easily understood writer, but they are very dense and complex readings--which I don't understand a good deal of. Yet, I still find them important and interesting to read (although headaches can occur). For example, he said this wonderful statement in his article titled Understanding Art, "...one should not approach art by means of reason and understanding, but through the soul, through experience." That does not mean, however, that an artist shouldn't have the capability to write and understand his own work. "Reason and understanding are to be found in the arsenal of the well-armed artist, since he must have ready every means that the end might demand"; but in the end, the he viewer "has only to open wide his soul to experience. Then he shall too be blessed."

To understand a great deal of contemporary art today one must understand and read the artists statement, purpose, and process. My question is doesn't that defeat the purpose of photography? Visual artwork should be understood through visual means. Although I reflect upon the late modern artwork of the likes of Pollack whose work was heavily influenced by psychoanalysis; thus, one must understand psychoanalysis to fully be rewarded with the visual complexity of the art. I believe the difference is that the two are different. In the later case, one must understand some other discipline that has been formulated by other intellectuals. The contemporary art that I talk about one must understand by the same artists thesis, so I feel like the artist has a theory and writes about it, then backs up their theory with photographs. If this is the case, then photographs become documents that back up their theories, instead of a work of art themselves.

A photograph, in many regards, should contain an experience that cannot be put into words. That is the epitome of the visual work. Parts can be verbalized, but not the whole experience. This reminds me of a quote from a famous writer (or poet). Unfortunately I cannot think of who it is or the exact quote, but it had something to do with the writers response to a question regarding his work. The writer was asked to clarify or put into different words his work. The writer replied "Do you want me to say it in worse words?" Of course, someone as great as he writes in such a way, that it truly can't be said any different. The same should be of a photograph. It is best displayed in its visual form and not be written extensively about by the artist. If an artist wishes, he can present the viewer with clues to direct their experience, such as a title or very brief background on the artists direction.

quote craziness --- portrait photography...

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 21:17:00 +0000

i have written tons of quotes lately because there are just so many good ones; they are so inspirational. this one is talking about portrait photography.

The duration of a session is one of growing rapport, of a deepening friendship. The camera is hardly more than a recording device for an experience between two people.

-minor white.

shooting for the sake of shooting quote

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 21:36:00 +0000

When the novice photographer starts taking pictures, he carries his camera about and shoots everything that interests him. There comes a time when he must crystallize his ideas and set off in an particular direction. He must learn that shooting for the sake of shooting is dull and unprofitable.

Alexey Brodovitch

chasing style

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 23:49:00 +0000

Chasing a style in photography, or any artistic medium, is like being attracted to someone based only on their looks. There is nothing lasting about looks, in time looks fade--just like there is nothing lasting about current trendy styles. It is much more fulfilling to seek after something with multiple layers and that has more meaning. In photography a unique style will find you once you have found your own voice. So instead of chasing a style that will set you apart from others, find your voice in the world--it is more satisfactory and lasting.

Kandinsky quote

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 00:31:00 +0000

"...color is a means of exerting a direct influence upon the soul."

great quote!

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 23:09:00 +0000

This quote is taken from John Szarkowski's preface to William Eggleston's Guide. Prior to the quote, he writes about the problems photographers had when switching from a black-and-white mindset to a color mindset. Photographers found it too difficult to see simultaneously both the blue and the sky.

"But what is at a given moment too difficult can bit by bit be grasped, and finally become possible."

The seemingly impossible (or at least too difficult to try) becomes possible by grasping the problem in bits and pieces and understanding those pieces and applying them to the greater problem.

quote.

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 19:47:00 +0000

"The only way of finding the limits of the possible is by going beyond them into the impossible."

That quote by Arthur C. Clarke is taped to my camera.

Ira Glass videos

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 21:23:00 +0000

Below are a couple videos that I referenced in my last blog. I found them on aphotoeditor.com. Ira Glass is an award-winning radio host for NPR. In the videos below he talks about what it takes to make it in radio, but the same ideas apply to photography. There are some wonderful and inspiring tips that are most certainly worth a view—especially for those relatively young in the industry. For example, he talks about the importance of failure. This is something that I have mentioned before because failure is necessary for growth. He also talks about how for the first number of years your ability doesn't match up to your expectations; in other words, at first your work is poor. This is normal and shouldn't stop you from working on getting better, which you will with hard work. In fact, Ira was still horrible after seven years of work; it is, therefore, at this stage that many young people give up. Lastly, Ira discusses at length about the importance of finding a decent story—in photography terms this is coming up with the concept of the photograph or the idea behind a series. In fact, this planning stage is more important and takes more time than the actual stage of production. Ira puts it into words much better than I, so hit play and take notes.

Annie Liobovitz New Book

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 04:16:00 +0000

The new Annie Liebovitz book At Work has some wonderful stories and tidbits about her photographs and process. Whether you like her work or not, she knows what it takes to make it in this cut throat business. It is worth a read. Below are some of the tidbits from the book that I found the most important.

In the section entitled “Conceptual Pictures”, Annie talks about her conversation with the photographer Larry Schiller. Larry Schiller is always doing some sort of wicked photography experiment. For example, he attached a camera on the tail of a plane that was testing the volatility of fuel by exploding the plane. The camera took photos while the plane was in flight until it exploded; thus the camera had to be “explosion proof”. When Annie was relatively new in the industry she asked Larry for advice and he told her that “you are limited only by your imagination.” The human brain is a problem solving machine. How many times have you heard of stories where the impossible had been solved? This reminds me of the story of a UC Berkeley graduate student in Mathematics. He arrived late to class one day, quietly sneaked in to the classroom, and copied the homework that was written on the chalkboard. The next week he spent hours and hours trying to solve the homework problem and finally solved it. He came to class and turned in his homework. What he didn't realize was that the teacher put that problem on the board because it was thought to be unsolvable, not because it was homework. The top mathematics minds in the world couldn't solve it, but he did. Why? Because he thought it was solvable. The human mind can come up with the impossible and unthinkable and the only thing that stops it is the imagination.

In the same section, Annie writes about how she comes up with her conceptual ideas, specifically the portraits of the poets Tess Gallegher and Robert Penn Warren. Annie had Tess Gallagher sit sidesaddle on a white horse at dusk, wearing a silver dress, with no shoes, wearing a blue mask over her eyes, and artificially lit the horse and Tess. Robert Penn Warren was photographed in his room without his shirt and looks quite frail. Annie confesses she came up with both ideas by reading their poems, what she calls “doing my homework.” “Somewhere in the raw material was the nucleus of what the picture would become. It didn't have to be a big idea. It could be simple.” Tess Gallagher wrote about horses and liked to dress up (hence the sequin dress and mask). Robert Penn Warren, at the time, was writing about death and the fragility of life. The point of a seventy-five year old man without is shirt is to show the fragility of his body.

The Tess Gallagher portrait was the beginning of Annie placing her subject in the middle of an idea. Often the idea is pre-planned after extensive “homework.” This is a great lesson to learn and it reminds me of a quote from the very talented and award winning radio hose Ira Glass. He talks about how often the amount of time it takes to find as story (substitute come up with a photographic idea/concept) is longer than the time it takes to actually produce the piece. This is an important point he is making. The real time consuming work comes with the pr-planning and not the execution. Henri Cartier-Bresson might have something to say about that. My response to those who work on intuition and use the idea of the “decisive moment” is that their pre-planning is the work they do on clearing their mind before and during photographing. The best artists in the world will often admit that their best photographs were a result of luck, but they wouldn't have been able to notice the opportunity (created by luck) to take the photograph if it weren't for all the planning they did. The cliché “successful people create their own luck” comes to mind.

Annie calls the art director George Lois, from Esquire magazine, the “great master of the conceptual cover”. When Muhammad Ali was convicted of draft evasion and was stripped of his heavyweight boxing title, Lois had him photographed as the martyred St. Sebastian, with arrows sticking out of his body. Another example of Lois' cover concept was drowning Andy Warhol in a can of Campbell's soup. These are more examples of a pre-planned concept. In fine art photography, I suppose, pre-planning is not as essential as it is with commercial. In today's commercial world, pre-planning is not only necessary it is the key to success.

Pre-planning is even more detailed when Annie shoots fashion productions. She even relates the putting together of her fashion spread with Puff Daddy and Kate Moss as being similar to making a small movie. Everything had to be planned before she even got on set. This includes the lighting, the exact positions of everybody, the composition of the photograph, the makeup, the clothes, etc. She even goes so far as to use a storyboard with thumbnail pictures. When Annie is scouting a location ahead of time to help in her pre-production phase, she pans across the whole area with Polaroids and then tape the frames together. This gives her a sense of the possibilities and aids in her storyboards and idea formulation.

Another tidbit about her photographing and planning for spreads in magazines is paying attention to what is in the center of the photograph. You can never put anything in the center of a photograph, because of the gutter. A photograph in a magazine is never seen fully flat. When she is editing pictures she sometimes picks a photograph up and bends them to see what it will look like in the magazine. For shoots with extremely famous celebrities, famous business people, or political leaders who have very little time for the actual photographing Annie can sometimes go as far as getting the heights of the people and getting stand-ins that equal those heights. This allows her to exactly see where the person will be in the photograph. Although she notes this isn't a copy as every body type is different, and some people even photograph different. But this is just another example of the stress and importance she puts into the pre-planning stage. This reminds me of an interview I read with the portrait photographer Chris Buck. He too stresses the importance of pre-planning. He doesn't have very much time on set and that problem mixed with nervous pressure makes the pre-planning all the more important.

Annie begins the section “Being There” by stating that as much as she loves pictures that have been set up, and as important as they are, she would rather photograph something that occurs on its own. “...sometimes it's useful to remember that things are happening right in front of you and that you don't have to complicate the situation. You can take what's given to you. You just need your mind and your eye.” So after all that discussion to the importance of pre-planning it is still vastly important to be in the moment. You have to have your eyes open for new possibilities and be willing to sometimes throw out your original ideas and photograph what is actually happening in front of your eyes. Annie ends the section “The Road West” with a wonderful description of the dichotomy of pre-planned work and being in the moment: “When I'm asked about my work, I try to explain that there is no mystery involved. It is work. But things happen all the time that are unexpected, uncontrolled, unexplainable, even magical. The work prepares you for that moment. Suddenly the clouds roll in and the soft light you longed for appears.”

An interesting tidbit to note is that Annie studied photographs by Diane Arbus because of the way impeccable framing of Diane's composition; it was an excellent learning tool. Quite often Diane would include just a sliver of curtain in a frame and it would be just the right amount. As Stephen Shore notes, be aware of everything that is in the camera's frame; everything is important to the composition.

Arnold Newman was quoted as stating that photography is one percent talent and ninety-nine percent moving furniture. While this might be extreme, the point is obvious and it is one that I don't do nearly enough: move things to compose the best possible picture and do not be satisfied with the way things are. People most often don't live in spaces that are compositionally and conceptually wonderful for photography. A photographer must move things around until he/she finds the best layout. “The manual labor is daunting” states Annie.

Annie notes that her first camera, a Minolta SR-T 101, came with a 55mm lens and she couldn't afford a different lens, but this ended up being a wonderful learning tool. The wide angle of the 55mm lens made her very aware of what she was putting in the frame. “It was good discipline in learning how to see and compose.” Beginning students often zoom in on something because it is much easier to compose. By having a wide angle lens, Annie didn't have this possibility and was forced to compose multiple objects into the frame.

Annie moved from shooting color transparencies to shooting color negatives (something the magazine and printer wasn't at all thrilled about). It is the norm to shoot transparencies, but Annie was influenced by the color work of Nan Goldin (who shot negatives). Color negative, Annie believes, are more relaxed and spontaneous looking than color transparencies. Not to mention negatives allow for a much wider tonal range (something that is restricted in color photography to begin with).

In the section “Equipment” Annie discusses a funny side note regarding lighting. Helmut Newton used to tell her to throw away all her strobes. He was a master with natural light. No one else, Annie thinks, can photograph as beautifully with the sun overhead as Helmut; he used it to his advantage. “Natural light is the greatest teacher. You place the strobe so that it follows direction of the natural light. You never try to fight the natural light by coming from another direction.” While this is Annie's preference, I tend to agree. Nothing beats the beauty of natural light. Annie admits to, at first, over lighting her portraits outdoors. Today she actually sets her strobes one or two stops below the natural light. It creates a darkness and mystery that she loves. Annie's key light is often just a single strobe with an umbrella; she loves the simplicity. The strobe emphasizes the direction of the light (since you are using the same direction as the natural light), illuminates the face, and she lets natural light fill in the rest. She sometimes uses a back-up fill light that usually comes from the direction of the camera. Annie prefers to shoot at sunrise, as opposed to sunset, because there is less stress on timing. With photographing at sunset, the light falls so fast that often you end up out of time in the dark and having to trek the equipment back to the truck in the dark. Photographing at sunset gives you more time to shoot and when done it is much easier to get all the equipment out of the location.

Interestingly enough Annie shoots without a tripod (even when using the massive Mamiya RZ67). She believes you lose the moment adjusting the tripod. There is certainly something to be said about that. Using a tripod slows things down, which can be a benefit and a disadvantage. She also believes that using a tripod you have a tendency to make everything perfectly straight. This is unnatural. She prefers the organic quality of things slightly not straight.

The book ends with a wonderful question and answer section called “Ten Most-Asked Questions.” In one of the questions she talks about her switch from film to digital. As most people know Annie now shoots digitally. She believes digital is here to stay whether you like it or not and she has also realized the many benefits of shooting digitally. At first she shot with her camera tethered to a monitor and reviewed the photos on the monitor. She quickly realized this disturbed the momentum of a shoot. Consequently, she now shoots untethered and quite often doesn't even look at the back of the camera. She has faith, and for good reason.

Annie answers the question “When do you know you have a good picture?”: “As I became more experienced, I began to understand that someone who is being photographed can work for only so long and that you shouldn't belabor the situation.” This is a fascinating and very true point which is especially true for those who don't enjoy being photographed. A photographer shouldn't keep a sitter for too long, the sitter most likeley will loose interest and won't work as hard for you to get the photograph. She makes a funny note that as soon as you say the shoot is over, the subject will feel relieved and suddenly look great. After telling people she is done she usually shoots a few more frames afterwards to capture their relief and relaxation; often these are the most natural photographs.

Annie admits she isn't very good at conversation and unlike Richard Avedon doesn't use conversation to set a person at ease. Instead, she believes she sets a person at ease by her directness; the sitter knows her talent, knows she is always going to do something interesting, and knows she is there to take care of business. That is something people tend to understand and appreciate. This seems it might be very helpful in very short photo sessions with people who are under severe time constraints.

Most of the great portrait photographers photographed with the camera next to them while they talked to them. Annie doesn't follow this formula and is looking through the camera (and hence one reason she doesn't talk while she shoots).

Annie ends with the point that there is always some thought behind her pictures. She presents the subject with several ideas and sees which ones the subject is most interested in. This also makes the subject feel like they are a part of the photograph and gets them more excited. This is especially true if you are working with an entertainer. Photography is a collaboration. “I'm interested in getting something unpredictable, something you don't normally see.”

staying sharp

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 00:59:00 +0000

I read something Malcolm Gladwell said about a couple of weeks ago that I found interesting, but it didn't really sink in until just now. Malcolm stated that he has to write everyday to stay sharp or else his writing suffers. This, obviously, applies to any profession, including photography. It really hit me today. Over the holiday break, I have photograph virtually everyday, and for 2-4 hours of every day. There have been a couple days were I haven't photographed at all (Christmas being one). The day after not practicing, it has taken me a very long time to get back the focus and the ability to see things photographically. My photographs have subsequently suffered. The first hour or so of practice the day after not practicing are all photographs of obvious things or I cannot completely concentrate. This results because of what Malcolm Gladwell was talking about. A person must practice everyday in his profession in order to, if nothing else, stay sharp. This is a wonderful lesson.

necessary rest from work

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 01:24:00 +0000

Even football players take timeouts and have "half-time" to regroup, strategize, and rest up. This rest is essential to coming back again, after half-time or the time out, with a new, fresh sense of urgency to tackle the goals at hand. So often we feel overwhelmed by all that has to be done, that we don't take breaks for the required rest. The resulting work is effected in a bad way. Even in music there is a rest between flurries of notes. In fact rest in music is part of the music. It is an essential quality to set the tone and mood for the work. Even God rested on the seventh day of creation (according to the Bible). Rest is essential to work. The key is to take your rest, and then get out there and get back to work.

the art of seeing

noreply@blogger.com (nathan) — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 01:12:00 +0000

"There is nothing in this world without a decisive moment."~Cardinal Retz

The decisive moment, in the photography world, is immediately credited to Henri Cartier-Bresson. Henri didn't actually come up with that name—as can be seen from the quote above—but, in fact, he applied the idea to his photographic way of life. In all of his writings, he often talks about the “art of seeing”. In fact, he is quoted as saying, “...people think far too much about techniques and not enough about seeing.” He is quite right. Henri writes, “technique is only important insofar as that you must master it in order to communicate what you see.”

So how did the master of perception and seeing develop his eye? The answer is from silent films such as Mysteries of New York, Broken Blossoms by D.W. Griffith, Greed by Stroheim, Potemkin by Eisenstein, and Jeanne d'Arc by Dreyer.Without dialog, a viewer is forced to pay attention and just seethe movie—that is all he has. It is a rare occurrence to be put in a situation where you communication is essential from just looking. Composition is the underlying force that is essential to a good photograph—it is the rather invisible framework for a photograph. Cartier-Bresson writes, “if a photograph is to communicate its subject in all its intensity, the relationship of form must be rigorously established.” Composition is how a photographer communicates their purpose. A photographer can dramatically alter composition by a slight movement sideways, a bend in the knees, placing the camera closer to the subject, and so on; therefore, a photographer must be aware of the slightest of nuances to composition—attention to detail—and also be constantly moving around in the environment in search of other possibilities. “Composition must be one of our constant preoccupations, but at the moment of shooting it can stem only from out intuition, for we are out to capture the fugitive moment, and all the interrelationships involved are on the move.” The preceding quote is of great importance and it is apparent that the rigorous hard practice of composition is therefore vital to a photographer. Good composition must become intuitive.

Bresson—along with many other photographers, painters, and designers—state that content cannot be separated from form. Well what exactly is form? According to Bresson, “form is a rigorous organization of the interplay of surfaces, lines, and values.” This all comes back to the art of seeing. A photographer must be tuned into everything around him; his focus must be at a high level; and he must act on intuition. Who would have thought so much importance could have started with silent films? This revelation makes me appreciate silent films in a whole new way and I plan to watch some of the classic silent films and pay attention to “seeing.” Also, I plan to practice long hours specifically paying attention to composition.