A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed, and is, thereby, a true manifestation of what one feels about life in it’s entirety” – Ansel Adams
Here’s what photographers do: They find meaning. That’s it. Forget everything else. If you can’t find the meaning, you can’t make people feel something. At least not reliably. Not predictably. We care how skillful we look. We care how impressive we are. Our audience just wants to feel something. The better you understand the way space, place, light, timing and everything else affect a viewer, the sooner you can create pictures that express what you feel. And the sooner you can do that, the sooner your audience can follow suit.
I made mistakes in drama. I thought drama was when actors cried. But drama is when the audience cries. – Frank Capra
There’s what you see. There’s what the audience sees. When you’re in the middle of the moment, in the heat of the action, with the anxiety of a thousand mothers past pounding in your brain, it’s hard to get past technique. It’s hard to block out the tunnel vision. In fact, the harder it gets, the stronger the urge becomes to make it all about technique. Don’t give in. Move yourself into a more figurative place. Then go home, look at what you got, and see if it worked. Figure out what did, what didn’t, and why. Go do it again. Somewhere along the way – and this is a guarantee – you will see more.
I once saw a picture of a bride making her way out a car. Shot wide, sun-soaked, fully saturated, and dramatic to the hilt, it was the very embodiment of the dream. Everything except for the big, ugly Ford logo on the front of the car. No one says you have to sell the dream. There are other ways to play the shot. But if that’s your take, don’t show the Ford logo. As I like to say, paper plates at a wedding in a barn (this was before barn-chic came to rule the day)? Good. Paper plates at the Ritz? Bad.
It’s not about the paper plates. It’s not about the logo. Photographers interpret the world. You can have the exact same composition, the exact same light, and something as simple as a logo can ruin everything. Something as simple as a street sign or color can make everything. When does a Ford logo work? When does it not? What would be different if it were a Mercedes sign?
The question isn’t what looks good. The question is what fits. Are you building something? Are you filtering through what works and what doesn’t and packing your pictures with connotation? Or just showing what’s there? In the simplest terms, get rid of the bad and keep the good. You can spend a lifetime deciding on just what that means. And that’s the beauty of photography. The key is just to keep making those decisions.
Leave a Reply