iPhotoshop

Venice

Well, the transition is complete.

I've moved all my photographic "stuff" (and most everything else, too) from my Linux-based laptop to my new iMac. After reading The DAM Book, I was able to implement a system of tagging, cataloging, and archiving that will grow with my photograph collection; this mess I've had to go through of re-tagging and organizing all my photos should never happen again. The system is also set up for painless and frequent backups, which is something I've been meaning to implement for a while.

Fancy folder organization, exhaustive tagging, and expensive software don't mean a thing without photographic vision. Last week April and I saw an exhibition of the work of Harry Callahan in Atlanta. His work was remarkable, showing his mastery over line, shape, and tone. April pointed out two adjacent images obviously taken within minutes of each other. One, she noted, had a harsh, cold feel to it; light and dark had been pushed to such extremes that most detail was lost--all that was left was the white shape of his wife's body against a completely black background. The other was much more sensuous. Light seemed to wrap around her body, revealing nuanced detail in her skin. I told her that the difference in the photographs was not made by the camera--likely the two images were made with the exact same exposure. Rather, the vision was fulfilled in the darkroom, with the use of contrast filters and other light adjustment techniques such as dodging and burning.

I was recently asked by someone how the digital age and Adobe Photoshop was changing photography, and whether photography has become "more about Photoshop" and less about accomplishing things in-camera. I think such a question stems from two main factors: first, that yes, digital imaging has changed the photographic landscape in significant ways. Emails containing "photoshopped" images of bizarre or surreal scenes spread like wildfire through cyberspace, clouding people's idea of what Photoshop actually does for us. It's not just about composites, people. And when it is used for composites, it doesn't have to be about distorting reality. In my last post I showed a composite photograph that makes no attempt to be anything else. Photoshop allowed me to present those two images as a set, much like I would present them if they were printed and hanging on a wall. Though I could have done this in a traditional darkroom, it would not have been nearly as quick or precise.

The second main factor contributing to such questions is a lack of understanding of the kind of power the darkroom gave film photographers over their images. Photography has never stopped when the shutter closes; the real magic happens in the printing process. The darkroom, whether chemical or digital, gives us control over tonal values; essentially we decide whether to make parts of an image lighter or darker. That really is the essence of all darkroom work. The trick is knowing what needs its value changed, and then what that value should be. That decision is unchanged from chemical to digital darkroom. Where the digital darkroom excels is in giving the photographer real-time feedback on what his choices are doing to the image, with every step being completely editable and reversible. In a chemical darkroom, such steps are done on a "latent" image--which means you are staring at a white piece of paper until you actually develop it. If you don't like one of your steps, you have to do it all over again, which can be quite frustrating. So a digital darkroom like Photoshop gives us all the control film photographers have, but perhaps more nuanced, and also removes much of the frustration and uncertainty of working with a latent image, freeing us to work more creatively--not to mention it keeps us all from smelling like fixer all day. Great.

But, as I said before, Photoshop can't give you vision. Take the image posted here, for example. When I first started working on it, I wasn't sure where I wanted to take it. That's called lack of photographic vision, which is something I'm working on. After playing around with it for a while, I realized I wanted to take a lot of the color out and warm it up, leaving me with a yellowed desaturated look. I did some dodging and burning on the boats in the foreground and the buildings in the background, giving them more shape and bringing out details that otherwise were lost. I actually ended up mostly pleased with this image, though I'm sure it could be made much better in the hands of someone more skilled. What worries me is that I had to "play around" with the image before I realized where I wanted to go with it. Though I think that's ok for now, I eventually want to get to the point where I can look at a raw image and know exactly what I want to do with it; or better yet, know it before I even press the shutter. But for now, I am still learning the techniques, the possibilities, and the limitations.

Criticism

Sam and April

Wow. My mother recently saw this composite photo of my girlfriend April and myself. She said it was OK, but she would prefer it if I cropped out more of the space in in the center, bringing the two faces closer together. Certainly not the harshest of criticisms, but how difficult it was to hear! She's given me the same sort of casual suggestions before, and each time I have the same reaction: as she speaks I feel myself start to tense up, preparing for the blow and for my defense. I then start racking my brain, searching for some scrap of advice I had read somewhere that will justify my own take on the subject, thus proving her "wrong." She is not convinced. She then realizes I am not taking it well and not agreeing, then walks away muttering something like, "But I don't know anything about photography anyways." I am left discouraged.

This is not the proper reaction to have when being criticized. What kills me is that hers are such slight criticisms; as I continue with this effort I will certainly be critiqued harsher and more often--I better be ready with a good attitude and open ears. I think part of the problem with my reaction is that the critique is coming from someone so close to me; perhaps a stranger's words will not sting quite so much. But I think another, larger, part is my own poor response--no excuses. I am not used to being criticized at school or work, and my photography hasn't been seen by enough eyes to be seriously criticized either. So I am still learning how to cope with it and respond more positively. So please, anyone out there reading, criticize my photos! I need all the help I can get.

On a more positive note, tonight April told me a wonderful thing. She said that, since I've started pursuing photography, she's been exposed to the more artistic side of photographs, instead of the purely documentary images that fill every family's photo albums. This, in turn, has forced her to see her own world in a new way, arranging the figures in her landscape into some more aesthetic organization. This, of course, is exactly what photography asks us to do. I believe this was for her, as it was for me, an introduction to visual literacy, something most people our age are hopelessly deficient in. It's exciting that my interests, even if not my photographs, are having an impact on someone else, and that perhaps she and I could explore this subject of visual literacy together.