How to visualize your shots: Magnum Contact Sheets

This is the book I’ve been waiting for, and I didn’t even know it. But for anyone who knows me, there are two things they’ll know. First, I think Magnum is amazing. Second, I’m tired of Magnum. Not for what they’ve done, not for the photographers who are there. And their significance is obvious enough, but after spending years inhaling their work and dwelling in documentary photography, I’ve also found myself a little spent. As I’ve watched the language of photography evolve, I’ve been focusing on a greater level of abstraction and personal intimacy. Yet, for all that, looking through the contact sheets of some of the greatest photographers of the twentieth century left me inspired, winded, and humbled. It is a testament to the value of the dogged pursuit of vision, concept, and belief, and how essential those components are.

As a book, the material is varied, occasionally uneven, and generally interesting, if not for each individual frame, then for the scope of the agency and its photographers. At some 500 pages, it is hefty, and the accompanying text is engaging. But as a learning tool, it is material that should find its way to the desks of every wedding photographer looking to find their footing. This is what it is to capture a moment.

It is a reminder of what’s missing from too much of wedding photography. Less point and shoot, more point and pray, too many photographers treat image creation as a needle-in-the-haystack process. You shoot, you shoot, you shoot, then you dive in, and pull out the one or two decent images out of a thousand that you can rescue through cropping and toning. Of course, we all know you can’t crop and tone your way to greatness, but to see how relentlessly these world-class photographers pursue the image and how they select them is a revelation and a reminder. Here’s an example from Trent Parke, as he submerges himself in the water, one gaping breath after another.

What is so clear as you look through the book is that neither moments nor ideas are found, so much as envisioned. It’s not this shot, then that shot, a little of this and a little of that. It is the same thing, over and over, until it’s done right. Exploring time, exploring angles, and letting things develop. The photographers put their eggs into one basket and commit to the power of the scene. Some shots are fortuitous and found, like Inge Morath’s shot of a llama poking its head out the window of a cab, but more often then not, you come to realize the pictures are very distinctly crafted and visualized in the mind of the photographer before they ever make their way onto film.

There’s nothing easy about taking great pictures. But as often as it may be a problem of skill and craft, it’s more often one of process. It’s a way of shooting that encourages us to wait for a great shot to come along instead of creating it from what’s in front of our eyes. Each click should be exploration and refinement. It is not about finding that thing and capturing it. It is about teasing it out of what’s there. It’s springing into action, chasing down the shot, and going for it until you nail it or the moment is lost. The camera isn’t just a tool to store images. It’s a tool to connect more deeply understand the world around you. And if all that sounds a little vague and fuzzy, check out Contact Sheets, and you’ll know what I mean.