Turning the Usual Into Something Unusual

Making people look at what they usually overlook, making them see what they did not see before has always been one of the central objectives of photography. It is indeed rewarding to charge everyday scenes and objects with mystery. But the longer I photograph, the better I seem to understand that first and foremost it is light which accounts for an unusual appearance – both in the wotld that surrounds us and in pictures.  There is nothing like getting drunk on light…

Wind, Sand, Movement

Strolling the beach near Vlissingen (Holland), we found these small bits and pieces, their shadows exaggerated by a low evening sun. Then we realized that there was just enough breeze to drive small sticks over the beach and wave loose twigs and strings. Yet the wind force did not suffice to move the sand particles; hence every minute movement left its trace.

The Dialectics of Decay (Frankfurt Bonames Airfield)

In her critique of photography Susan Sontag points out that photographers love to depict decay. She links this preference both to a nostalgic view of the world – Roland Barthes points into a similar direction when he says that a photo takes the form of Aorist – and to aestheticizing ‘unworthy’ objects. To her, photographing decay implies marking the decaying object as beautiful. As much as I agree with the link between a photo and the past,  I ask myself if there is not more to photographing decay.

If you roughly distinguish between nature and civilization, decay could be seen as nature (re-)claiming its reign. I am always delighted with finding traces of ‘the tooth of time’ in an urban setting (or on an abandoned army airfield) because they follow laws and principles which are alien to ours.

Photographing these traces superimposes yet another structure: an aesthetic idea. A picture of a decaying object thus accumulates various layers of principles, natural and human. Incompatible as functionality, erosion and the photographer’s own ideas may seem, they are all framed in the image of a decaying object.

Speed

Daily photos, 365 Photos a year… I can see the appeal of this.* But as for now, I  do not travel that fast. Depending on weather, opportunities and interests (or motivation), it can take me two or three weeks to fill a 36-exposure roll of film. Afterwards, I have to allow a couple of days for processing. After receiving the pictures from the lab, I look over the contacts, trying to decide which picture is worth prinitng and what should be scanned and go online. Once I am done with this, I know my pictures quite intimately.

That’s the when I usually get excited about how well I succeeded in making this or that picture. I might hurry to get these exposures scanned and present them to you … or let them lie around untouched for yet another while. Waiting a couple of weeks entails that if I still like a picture after the first rush of euphoria is over – then this picture most likely meets my idea of a good one.

Why do I write this? Speedy publication can be lots of fun. But slowing down can be just as fine: If you are not sure what to think of your picture today, just wait. Time will help you take a step back, consider the picture in a different context and figure out what it means to you.

* There are some great sites for viewing daily pictures: The Window Project 2010 is one of them, and I would also like to mention the daily pictures displayed by Lynn Wiles. And whoever enjoys daily assignments will find them here.

Making Pictures

This was not originally written to appear in this blog. However, I realize that my thoughts about photography are taking a turn that would appear less intelligible without this short description. I thus translated it to appear here. The original text is also available.

Speaking of ‘an eye for photography’ I understand that the photographer sees the world as a reservoir of potential pictures and that he will do everything he can in order to make the best of this potential.

Maybe he will find a picture remembering Andreas Feininger once said that everything worth being photographed is worth being photographed a couple of times. Such repeated scrutiny of a subject may take place at very different times of the day, or the year. It so allows for numerous variations of a theme.

Once you start producing variations your perspective may widen, from a particular lake to water in general, from this one flower to constellations of flowers and leaves (and finally to plants ‘as such’).

Meanwhile, it is interesting to observe how the picture changes when you omit colour. This omission does not produce a lack, but rather emphasizes the structures of the subject which will now appear more clearly. Black-and-white also seems to imply a relation to the graphic arts (such as etchings or woodcuts).

You may try to push abstraction still further. In doing so, you might not aim at the kind of clarity you seek when involved with documentation, being satisfied only when you present yet more aspects and more details – but rather at a greater clarity that allows the picture to stand for itself, independently of whatever it might depict.