Postcards from the Creative Journey

On Editing and Sequencing

Alkabo School

from A Sense of the Seasons

Selecting the photographs in a project has now progressed to where this is one of the most important photographic tasks I do once I finish photographing. It used to be that getting that “one great photograph” to hang on the wall was my goal for photography. My photographic goal is to now tell a complete story with a group of photographs. Figuring out how many and which photographs I need to tell my story is now very important. While some photographers look for “the” photograph, I have come to the conclusion “the” photograph doesn’t arrive alone; it shows up with friends. If I had to make an analogy, selecting the photographs to be in a folio is creating the vocabulary of the folio.

Once the photographs have been selected, it’s necessary to put them in the right order to tell the story. If we continue with the literal analogy, sequencing the photographs is writing the story. It’s necessary to lead the audience through the photographs in order to tell the story. Particular images need to be displayed in a definite sequence to make sure the mood, intention and feelings required to tell the story are properly conveyed. There are beginning images, ending images and key images throughout the folio. In between these images are bridges or transitional images that fill in the details of the story and make the connections between the key images.

Like most everything worthwhile, it’s a very easy concept to explain. The problems, difficulties and frustrations arise when faced with a pile of prints that must be sequenced to tell a story.

What Passes for Original Work These Days

Stonework, MacGregor West

Sampling, recycling, reusing or appropriating is considered a valid form of art these days. It’s sad that the definition of “original” work has devolved to that. There is a certain set of skills that is required to be able to work with existing imagery and reinterpret them in a new light. People that create collages are masters of this type of art. People that appropriate others work are not.

As photographers, we do that in our own way when we interpret the work of others. We all do that because there are times when we make photographs of the “found object” that are the result of someone else’s effort (See the Stonework folio). As a photographer I am just the most recent person to interpret a physical object that has been conceived, designed and produced by others.

What I do find disturbing is re-photographing or appropriating another’s image and then claiming it is original work. What (allegedly) keeps this from being outright theft is the image is presented as the interpreter’s (I don’t want to use the term artist but am too polite to use the term thief) comment on the situation or state of society the original image represents. To me, the art is no longer the product, but the conversation or comment about someone’s image is the art. Maybe it’s generational but I think in terms of art being something tactile and visible, not a comment about another image.

A Photographic Memory

By The River

Something odd happened today. I saw a photograph for the second time and remembered the photograph in detail. It was one of those”I know I have seen that photograph before because I remember it” type of experiences. It took me a few minutes to actually remember the circumstances about seeing the photograph, and then a few minutes more to remember the name of the photographer. I’m not sure how to interpret the fact that the entire experience surrounding my initial viewing of the photograph was less memorable than the photograph itself. It says a lot about the photograph, or maybe it says I need to pay as much attention to the people I meet as the photographs I see.

I think we all wish to create photographs that will live on in the memories of our viewers. I know that making memorable photographs is the real goal of my photography. I would like my thoughts, emotions and feelings about the subject to create such an impact upon the viewer that the image of these feelings will stay with them long after they have stopped looking at the image. If my images are the first visual memory they have when they are in a similar situation, then I know my photograph was a success.

“Can you stop being a photographer?”

“I have to wait until this car gets out of the way so I can make a nice photograph from this exact spot.” I say.

“Would you please let me know when you stop to make photographs, otherwise I am going to continue walking,” says the Missus.

Alley near St. James Place, London*

I think this is how you know you’re a photographer because you just can’t turn it off. Even on the family vacation with a little happy snap camera it’s something that you just can’t give up. Ted Orland has a great quote, “Photograph is a verb.” Photographers are always photographing, even if they don’t have a camera. You are having a conversation with somebody and you change your position so you can see them in front of an uncluttered background. Items in your house are arranged as if they were a still life photograph. You walk down the street looking for compositions. You’re critiquing the photographs in billboard advertisements. You spy fellow photographers and do a quick gear critique. Do they have a good camera bag? Are there any accessories you would find useful? And then, if they’re making a photograph, your critique extends to their photographic form and the visualization of their selected composition.

You never tire of looking, composing, arranging, wondering if changing your position may improve your composition. Visual thinking and communicating are your stock in trade, so you really can’t stop being a photographer. Even when you are on vacation.

 

*It's the photograph I made when the car got out of the way. It's a color photograph. Didn't see much value converting it to black and white.