Slices of Life

I had the great pleasure, and very interesting experience, of meeting Thomas Leuthard last Friday evening. Thomas is the creator of the 85mm Street Photography web site and a rather fascinating collection of candid photographs of passerby that he has produced over the last few years. I highly recommend visiting his web page to study his work both for the quality of his photographs and his instructive commentary on the practice of street photography.

I've been dabbling in street photography for a few months now and it is an exciting area to work in. Most of my photographs are the result of a contemplative, almost zen like process. I see a scene and process it mentally, considering angles, elements, quality of light and subject until I settle on the - hopefully - ideal image. This process can take a few minutes or repeated visits over a period of months to a particular place until the image I have in mind is produced. Street photography is exactly the opposite, which is one of the aspects of it that draws my interest. A photographic opportunity typically presents itself for a brief few seconds and if you aren't intimately familiar with your camera operation and can't compose the image almost automatically you will likely miss the shot.

The 85mm web site is an excellent resource if you are interested in street photography. Thomas provides not only a collection of terrific images, but a solid how-to commentary on equipment and technique. I was primarily interested in the latter, as my inherent respect for other peoples privacy was holding me back from progressing in this area. The chance to participate in a personal, live demonstration of Mr. Leuthard in action on the NYC streets was not to be missed. Per the invitation, we met at the 'pointy end' of the Flatiron Building at 5:00 pm. The group numbered six, and and after introductions all around, we went through a short discussion of the various cameras that were brought along and the advantages/disadvantages of each setup. Thomas, like myself, had already started shooting on the way to the meet and had a couple of interesting captures. He continued to shoot even as we were getting acquainted on the corner of Broadway and 23rd.

Once the introductions and camera discussion was completed, we started walking east on 23rd looking for opportunities. The trick to successful street photography is to capture your subject while they are completely unaware that you exist. This is an extraordinarily difficult thing to do with a wide prime lens. The range to your subject is typically about 8 feet and often much less. As several of our group quickly found out, New Yorkers are inherently very alert and difficult to sneak up on! Learning how not to draw attention to yourself is critical and no small trick when your camera is a bit of a monster, as my Canon 5DMkII is, especially with the 24-105mm general purpose lens on it. It can be done, however. There are a number of appearance and behavioral practices which help. Avoiding bright colored clothing, no fast moves, no direct eye contact with the subject, etc. One that worked very well for me was to pretend I was shooting another, more distant subject. I would switch to manual focus and preset to the focal plane of the real subject, all the while pretending to be interested in something else entirely. Once it was clear that the subject's guard was down, I would pan them into the frame and activate the shutter.

One of the things to consider with street photography is your intent. Thomas Leuthard, for example, is mostly about the person. He goes for some close up detail, usually a portrait but there are interesting variations such as using feet or hands as the primary subject. My photography tends to be about places and and objects. Accordingly, when I started shooting with Thomas, I quickly found myself shooting in such a way as to incorporate the person into their immediate surroundings - man in his element, as it were. To me, for my style of photograph, this context is absolutely critical. Leuthard's images might be summarized as 'this is me at this moment'. Mine might be summarized as 'this is me in this place at this moment'. My goal is to tell the broader story of not only the person, but the person's immediate environment and how the two components of person and place interact.

(click on image to enlarge)   "Cool Splash"

I was actually setting up to shot another subject when I spotted this man cooling himself in the fountain behind my subject. I had about 20 seconds to get into position, setup and shoot. I caught three frames before he turned and walked away. I love the moment I was very lucky to capture here. It is a very human moment in a public place that very few people even noticed as it happened. This is an excellent example of the power of street photography - the ability to capture a completely natural, unscripted moment in a person's life and to record the human beauty of it. This is the defining characteristic of street photography: humanity. Capturing little slices of unscripted life as it happens. An intimate, real moment captured in time.

(click on image to enlarge) "Distant Relations"

Here, I spotted what appeared to be a mother/daughter team interacting, unaware they were being observed. I took two frames from a kneeling perspective and turned away before they saw me. There is an interesting, complex dynamic conveyed in the body language in this tableau, while the mother is completely absorbed in her cell phone, that inspired the image title.

(click on image to enlarge)  "An Offer of Piano Instruction"

This guy held my attention for a long time, sitting on the sidewalk near the entrance of a subway entrance. He was very alert and I had difficulty getting an unguarded shot. I finally moved behind a column about 10 feet away and tried to set up a shot from there. He then got up to walk away, hesitating for just a moment. That moment was all I needed to the unguarded exposure. The bright sun, deep shadows and, finally, the little random piano instruction advert pulled all together.

I will be doing more work like this. It was an exciting, intriguing and perhaps a bit risky process. The results can be fascinating, however, and it is the only way to capture such natural photographic imagery if you want to incorporate the unaffected human element into your photography. I can't wait to see what develops!

On Little Cat Feet

Up and out with the camera gear hours before dawn this morning. We have had thick fog every morning for the last several days and today I have a chance to get out in it. First stop, the Bay Shore train station. The fog was thick and gave that haunting, blurred, atmospheric light reminiscent of the old black and white movie scenes. I shot a few different angles and then moved on to St. Patrick’s Church, the big Roman Catholic church in the middle of town.

This massive pile of brick is an unmistakable and imposing presence. I suspect most people don't realize just how massive the structure is, as the sight lines are broken up enough that you have to actually stop and look from the odd angle to appreciate the real bulk of the thing. I have wanted to shoot this building for some time now, but could never settle on the right way to capture its real presence. I suspected the fog would offer some opportunities and this was my main target for the early morning shoot. I wasn't disappointed. The fog picked up the glow of the well lit Main Street, giving just the right amount of background light in the thick mist. A twenty second exposure did the trick. There are only a few angles that give a clear view of the church to get a good feel for it, and I walked around shot a few other perspectives while I was set up, but it was the three-quarter view from the rear that gave the best overall angle, just as I expected.

(click on image to enlarge)
The next stop was my favorite easy beach walk - the walk to the Fire Island Lighthouse from the parking field at Robert Moses State Park. I had wanted to get some updated images of the lighthouse itself, but the fog was far too dense. Instead, I went searching for interesting details in the dark, but gradually lightening mist. It was a marvelous morning. Cool and damp in that predawn way that you have to personally experience to appreciate. There is no way to effectively describe it as the physical presence of the low-lying cloud plays so much a part.

Really thick fog such as this brings on an odd and unique quiet. On the boardwalk, well into the densest part of the swale, I could hear the ever-present Atlantic surf pounding on the nearby shoreline, but even the dunes were out of sight in the gray mist. The omnipresent roar was punctuated by the mating calls of several redwing blackbirds, invisible in the tall grass and dense thickets of pine and scrub. If I stood still and listened, even with this serenely evocative background medley, the muffled silence was still deep enough to hear the drops of condensed fog drip from branches and pat-pat-pat onto the sandy ground. As I wandered the walkways alone within my own thoughts, I wondered at the mystery of the walkways disappearing around blind curves into the gray cloud. A barely discernible rustle revealed a doe with a yearling fawn browsing in the scrub for breakfast. Moving ever so slowly and quietly, I setup for several freehand shots as the pair moved quietly and slowly about their morning business, less than ten feet away from my crouching position at one point. The pair moved unhurriedly, gradually deeper into the tall grass and finally out of sight. The redwings continued their calls uninterrupted – adding such serene beauty on this solitary moment. For the first time in recent memory, I felt myself slowing down.

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The sun had risen by now, but this was evidenced only in a very gradual brightening of the thick mist. The fog was full of light, making exposures tricky, especially in the subtle variations according to angle and soft shadow of each shot. I found a groove and made it work, tending to underexpose rather than blow out the increasing glow of the sky. I finally made it to the lighthouse, but as I anticipated, the fog was far too dense. I was within a hundred and fifty feet or so before the base of the column was visible at all and even then it was just a vague hint of a vertical shadow. The fog shrouded pathways and other details would remain my main subjects for this morning. I continued on to the beach to see what surprises might be there, but the dense cloud hid almost everything, getting even thicker as I approached the primary dune line and the Atlantic itself.
This made for perfect conditions to shoot the walkways. I love the implied mystery of these scenes and how they invite the imagination to open up and wonder. What is about the fog that calls to me in this way? I am not much of a fan of poetry, with the notable exception of haiku, but Carl Sandburg's short poem 'Fog' has stuck with me for most of my life. He captured the essence of fog’s quiet mystery with such simple precision I cannot walk out into a misty day without the words popping into my head:

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Intersections

To some degree, we all lead insular lives. We have our daily routine, our family, our circle of friends and, finally, our workmates. A radiating circle with distinct and finite edges that we rarely venture out of. This is generally the norm and makes for a comfortable, secure and relatively predictable life. Most people consider surprises and the unpredictable a bad thing. Yet, what we think of as security is at best pleasant illusion.

This is one of the primary traits where my wife Nancy and I were polar opposites when we first met. She was a planner. Invite her to an event and the day planner came out of her purse to verify availability and to record the commitment. I, on the other hand, knew that if the event was beyond the next 24 hour window, I was likely to be free. When Nancy planned a trip, on Tuesday she would be scheduled for this, on Thursday for that. I introduced her to the pleasures of serendipity and chance when I planned a return trip to the Scottish Highlands for our tenth wedding anniversary and second honeymoon, the first being spent in Edinburgh. My planning consisted entirely of purchasing round trip airfare to and from Glasgow and a rental car to be waiting at the Glasgow airport. In between the flights was a two week window wide open to possibilities. The general idea was simply to drive north and west towards the coast and see what might happen. We didn't even know where we were to stay the first night.

Each day was a surprise. We had no idea where we might be sleeping, where we were going or what we would eat. Nancy still describes that trip as the best two weeks of her life. There is an old truism that in order to truly experience the highs of life, one must also experience the lows. This trip illustrated that concept in a very real way - the most dramatic being near the end of our stay. We were driving south as we started to close the circle on our return from the Isle of Skye, where we had discovered a delightful bed and breakfast overlooking the Portree harbor. One of the surprises was the lack of civilization in the stretch south from the Skye Bridge. We had taken the ferry to Skye from Mallaig and had not been in this particular part of the Highlands previously. The countryside was spectacular in its rugged, Highland beauty, but by the time we arrived back in Fort William late in the day, there were no vacancies to be found. We continued south for hours, finally into the night as we approached Oban. At this point, we had already resolved that we were likely to spend the night sleeping in the car and were looking for a place to have dinner. In Oban, quite by chance, we discovered hidden on an obscure single track a bed and breakfast on a hill overlooking the old city. They had a single vacancy.

It turned out that the proprietor was a retired Queens chef who owned and ran this small but exquisite gem. The room had a window view of the city below and, much to our delight, served dinner as well as breakfast, but only to his guests. Nancy and I then proceeded to enjoy two of the finest meals of our lives.

If we had planned our trip in advance in the normal fashion, we would of had a very different experience. When planning trips, people tend towards the known. There is certainly sound logic to this, of course - surprises are not always good. The price of this security is a certain isolation from the potential of getting a real flavor of the people and places you visit. A Marriot is a Marriot is a Marriot, regardless of the state or country it happens to be in. The very intent of these hotels is to provide a consistent, predictable, known environment for their guests. In the process, they remove all but the most highly distilled local flavor. This is why Nancy and I never stay at a major chain hotel if there are other options. The experiences we want are to be had in the local bed and breakfast, and the small diner or pub where the locals congregate - like that wonderful off-the-track pub near Loch Fyne just north of Argyle Forest that served a wondrous steak pie and local beer. We spent that night in Minard Castle, the only guests in the newly renovated castle that wasn't yet in the tourist listings.

This has not been a one way relationship, however. Nancy's gift to me is her natural gregariousness. She has a way about her that makes her incredibly approachable and outgoing. I can't count the number of times that I've found her somewhere catching up with an old friend only to learn that she had known the person for all of 10 minutes. It amazes me and I can't help but be in awe of it in some ways. The good news is that I have picked up on some of this and am far more open to approaching total strangers than before we met. Obviously, these two traits make for a happy combination when traveling, opening doors to people and experiences that most will miss.

I have found that both can also be applied to photography, specifically photography of strangers in public places. I have great respect for peoples privacy and act accordingly. Unfortunately, this otherwise virtuous trait can be a negative when working on images such as those in my Street Scenes series. Most are candid shots of people and places and these require a strong dose of unobtrusive practices. The idea is to get the image without the subject realizing I am even there in order to capture unaffected human behavior. I want the natural moment to shine through.

(click on image to enlarge)

There is another type of image, however, and these require at least the knowledge on the part of the subject that I am there, if not actual, active participation in the process on their part. An actual interaction must take place between the photographer and the subject. Here is where we depart from the known and comfortable. The photographer must be willing to reach out to a total stranger with an invitation to join in the creative process. This is not the sort of thing that intrudes into the daily routine very often - but serendipity and chance open the door to wonderful creative opportunity if we are willing to step outside of our own shell.

By the very nature of the required interaction, these images tend to be far more intimate, as the relationship between the photographer and the subject is unavoidably more close, both locked in a subtle dance. For the process to even begin, I must speak to my potential subject and broach the topic of my intent. Photography of this nature is still quite new to me, but has so far proven to be a pleasant experience. I find that my subjects tend to be fascinated by the process and are generally perfectly willing, even eager, to participate. the result is what is proving to be the beginning of a series of images with enormous potential. I will provide one example, an interaction which took place quite unexpectedly on the commute home recently.

I had just settled in for the train ride home when this guy sits in the seat facing me. I've never seen him before. Tattooed, a little dusty, definitely rough around the edges. Stocky build, but not real big - but real solid. Not a bit of fancy or soft about him. Big strong, workingman arms. These arms radiated life, emanating strength even in their relaxed repose. These were the arms of a man who relied on strength and muscle to get through his day. I had to take a photograph. I introduced myself and explained my interest. He was a really nice guy. He assumed the relaxed pose that had initially caught my attention and I quickly set up for the shot. He was completely natural - no tenseness in him at all. I exposed three frames - one was a keeper. I gave him a card and invited him to my show opening a couple of days later. Hopefully I will see him again so he can see the result of our meeting.

(click on image to enlarge)

By exercising the willingness to expose myself and an artistic impulse to a stranger, art was created in a space where the otherwise natural social impulse is to maintain the protective shell of personal space. So much is lost in this self imposed closure. I can't help but think that humanity as a whole suffers from this internal and artificial isolation when the chance meeting of strangers is not fully acted upon. The result is that we remain strangers in a crowded room.

New York City Graphics

One of the things that continues to really fascinate me about photography is how it requires me to constantly re-evaluate how I perceive the world around me.

The play of light is everywhere and ever changing from moment to moment. Most of us move through our days entirely unaware of this often delicate, sometimes (literally) glaringly brash symphony taking place around us. Light does not often call attention to itself the way sound and sensation do. It takes intent and awareness on our part to look beyond the details of our normal realm of perception.

So it has been with the new series of photographic images I started experimenting with for my New York City Graphic collection. As I mentioned in the previous blog post, I began with a new understanding of Arthur Stiegletz's approach of evaluating the overall light and shadow effects of the New York buildings around him. The architectural revolution that led to the creation of the modern high-rise building had only just begun at the end of the period where Stiegletz was actively photographing these scenes. As a result, we can see his images of such creations as the newly erected GE Buildings (both of them) standing in clear air, well above the surrounding, smaller structures of the day. Once distinct, solitary towers, these iconic structures are now lost in a crowd of modern glass, concrete and steel.

This opens up opportunities and challenges for the modern photographer that Stiegletz never had. I realized this immediately once I changed the way I looked at these massive structures which I walk among everyday going to and from work. When we see something so frequently, we become desensitized to the presence and impact of these objects. This applies even to massive skyscrapers. Most New Yorkers only perceive the first floor/sidewalk level of their surroundings. One of the surest signs of a tourist in the city is the simple fact that the person has stopped in the middle of a busy sidewalk and is actually looking UP! This behavior is actually considered a bit gauche by native New York City residents and even 'bad form'. Yet most of the truly interesting architecture exists well above street level.

It isn't the architectural detail that is pulling at me right now, however. The change in perspective has opened a new world of visual acuity. Lately, I seem to have just enough attention at street level to avoid tripping over pedestrians or getting flattened by a bus, but sometimes just barely. My attention is now constantly among the high glass towers as I seek out the potential for graphic patterns on a truly massive scale, literally hundreds of feet up. I have made several excursions into New York City with this specific purpose in mind, walking miles and miles of mid-town sidewalks seeking out sight lines and glass panels. There is the promise of potential around every corner. The results have been truly exciting, with dozens of images the result. Even still, I have barely scratched the surface of the available potential here.

Here are several examples of some of the photographs that are a direct result of this exercise. The first image, 'Cubism', is an unabashed exercise in pure graphics. There are none of the typical architectural details that would normally pull in a viewer's attention. Instead, what we have is a very structured visual of clearly defined light and shadow, all expressed in sharp, straight lines. The overall feel is one of firm and massive, if slightly confused, stability as the repeating pattern of stacked cubes seems to find no real pattern or rhythm.

(click on image to enlarge)

Next is 'The Monoliths'. As with the previous photograph, this image was shot in hard midday light to emphasize the sharp, hard lines delineating light and shadow. A massive stability also reigns in this photograph, but the character is driven by the unavoidable clarity of the repeating vertical lines marching towards the horizon, accentuated by the deep, unsettling shadows.

(click on image to enlarge)

Our last example, as yet untitled, takes a slightly different turn. The modern, steel and glass structures are ideal subjects for this exercise due to their inherently clean, direct and often unbroken lines. Older structures, while almost certainly more attractive in their architectural detailing, don't quite work as well in this exercise as the very details that make them attractive tend to break up the clean lines I am looking for. That said, I found the contrast between the two styles intriguing in this image. In the foreground is 101 Park, a very distinctive angular slab of a structure. Behind it, mostly hidden, is the spire of one of New York City's most recognizable classic structures, the Chrysler Building. Even with the modern building's presence mostly obscuring the older classic, there is no hiding the distinctive identity, or the uniqueness, of the latter.

(click on image to enlarge)

The project is ongoing and I will likely continue it indefinitely as I continue to search out new sight lines and the massive glass panels rising high into the sky.

On Learning, Stiegletz and Photography as Art

I am frequently asked about my training as a photographer. Where did I go to school? Under whom did I study? Most are surprised to learn that I am completely self-taught. I have never taken a photography course, or for that matter, even an art course – not counting that required one we all took in 8th Grade.

The fact is, there are many resources available to the individual who has an intense desire to learn and I take full advantage of them. I started with books, then moved on to video tutorials on the web and the many quality blogs maintained by some very good photographers who are willing to share their hard earned knowledge. I pay this generosity forward by freely sharing what I’ve learned with anyone who has a sincere interest. I am reminded of a very polite young man I met recently at the C2 Gallery reception of the Annual Long Island Artist Invitational who had several questions about my compositional methods and processing techniques. After a brief discussion, he flattered me with the compliment that he learned more from me in ten minutes than anyone else he had ever discussed photography with. But, as the saying goes, I stand on the shoulders of giants.

No artist can proceed completely from a blank page. We are at some point inspired by another’s work that moves us deeply enough to want to try our hand at it. As I’ve mentioned in prior posts, was initially moved by the works of Maxfield Parrish and Andrew Wyeth. I still keep Wyeth’s book on my desk for frequent reference. For photographic inspiration, I peruse the various and numerous publications for ideas and techniques, but I’ve taken a different route in searching for the real core of the photographic medium. I’ve gone back to the beginning, studying the works of those who put photography on the map as an art form.

In America, it is impossible to do this without running full into the body of work assembled by Arthur Stiegletz. More than any other individual, Arthur Stiegletz moved photography away from its representational roots towards the more ethereal world as an artistic medium. I did not immediately grasp how he did this. My initial studies of his work did not give me an overt sense of why they should be considered art, although the images were often stunning. As my education has progressed, this has become abundantly clear, however. Part of the matter is that my initial considerations of Stiegetz’ photography made some erroneous assumptions:

What I initially thought were limitations of the early technology turned out to be the results of intentional choices on the part of Mr. Stiegletz to achieve an artistic end. This was driven home with unwavering certainty when I had the rare pleasure of seeing 39 of Stiegletz’ actual prints at a recent showing in New York City. Along with the prints, the curators also provided various commentaries on Stiegletz’ methods. The real center, however, was the inclusion of several of his original un-enlarged prints, run right from the original plates. What became immediately apparent is that the impressionistic ‘softness’ of the final prints was not at all a limitation of the medium, but a desired effect. The images on the original plates were razor sharp! This observation was timely, as I am currently reading the ‘The Key Set’, the massive publication of all Stiegletz’ 1,682 favored prints, as assembled after his death by his wife, Georgia O’Keefe. Here we learn of the use by Stiegletz, not so much of photographic detail, but rather broader considerations of light and form within the frame. Stiegletz was sharply aware of the current movements within the arts and how they might be applied to photography. Much of this approach is reflected in his New York city images.

So where does this lead me, the student? The primary effect was to cause me to reconsider how I examine and consider the photographic potential of my subjects. Photography, by its very nature, tends towards literal representation – but we must find a way past this if we are to produce photographic art. What I have learned is to see beyond the superficial detailed representation to the broader forms and relationship of light and dark within those forms. The direct result is a recent series of photographs taken in midtown Manhattan which have opened an entirely new visual world for me. The realization of the power within this approach hit upon me quite suddenly and unexpectedly while doing a series of shots of one of my favorite skyscrapers – the original GE Building on the corner of 51st and Lexington.

I had long wanted to get a properly atmospheric image of this amazing architectural masterpiece and this particular day had just the right conditions: mostly clear with thin passing clouds, and a low, midwinter afternoon sun combining for dramatic shadows and strong contrast. Playing to the stark difference between the deep, broad shadows and contrasting sunlight, I wanted to bring out the uniquely modern gothic character of the structure. The resulting mood is carried by the massive, shadowed presence in the frames, but the definition is carried by the highly contrasting lighted details.

(Click on image to enlarge)

Pleased with the result, I wondered if the effect could be carried even farther with modern, glass-sided buildings with their virtual elimination of ornamentation. I walked through midtown looking for potential subjects. The first was this study of the Citicorp building, viewed from across the street from the Seagrams Building on Park Avenue. The result is quite dramatic! The resulting photograph takes on a poster-like graphic directness.

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I continued the exercise as I walked through mid-town and finally took the concept another step farther by searching out more interesting shapes, particularly ones with a strong geometric presence. The result was this shot:

(Click on image to enlarge)

Almost cubist in its impact, the pure geometrical shapes highlighted by the extreme light and dark details drive this image to an unexpected place – visually more graphic than representational in effect,. This is especially ironic in that both of the latter two images have very minimal processing – just fine-tuned contrast and sharpness. As photographs, they ARE representational, but the careful composition and use of light changes that aspect utterly for the viewer.

I like the results of this experiment enough that I may start a new dedicated series.

Just passing through...

Man alive, where did the time go!?! It seems the the Holiday Season hit like a frieght train and left us swirling and bouncing in its passing wake. So much to do packed into so little time. I figured I better get a post up before the whole month of January blew by. Looks like I will just make it.

Aside from the mad rush of the Holidays, we get mixed in the additional logistics of my son Paull's graduation from college, picking up his sister to bring her home, setting up the Holiday display at the BJ Spoke Gallery, etc., etc. As the end of January sneaks up on me, we've had the reception at the C2 Gallery in Patchogue, as I was awarded one of the eleven artist slots for the Annual Artist Invitational. It was one of the best show receptions I've had the pleasure of attending. Some serious talent was present and on display. Planning is well under way for the grand opening of the new, expanded Gallery in March. I will be one of three artists, all photographers, whose work will be presented. It should be an interesting presentation of the various possibilities within the photographic medium. Meanwhile, today we hung eighteen prints in the new gallery space in the Bay Shore/Brightwaters public Library. People were lining up to look over the work even as we were hanging it. The reception has already been a good one!

One of January's highlights for me was the rare opportunity to see original prints of Alfred Stiegletz's photography. Thirty-nine original prints of his work centering on the city of New York were on display at the South Street Seaport Museum. I will post a more detailed report later, but it was an inspiring and educational day. I have been studying Stiegletz's work for some time now, and to see the original work itself was a revelation. My favorite gift was from my ever encouraging wife, Nancy, who bought me a copy of 'The Key Set', the massive tome of Stiegletz's work. This will keep me busy for a long time to come, as the depth of the research is outstanding.

My research into Stiegletz's techniques have been having an influence on my work for many months now. He was one of the first and foremost proponents of photography as an art form and not a mere recording medium. This shows deeply in his work. I have been trying to sort out how to capture some of the feel of his work, as the technology is so much different today - as should be expected of course. This relates in large part to my earlier post regarding the 'impressionistic' quality inherent in images when the resolution is reduced. Of course, the process of acheiving an properly artistic image is far more complex than just reducing the resolution of the image. That is just one part of a many layered process to acheive what the photographer has in mind. I only recently acheived something of what I was trying for in this learning process.

The camera used was my trusty and heavily used Canon G9, set to RAW image capture. The moment, a snowy morning walking to work in New York City. The place, Herald Square. As usual, I was scanning for interesting light, form and contrast as I walked to work. I had taken a few shots, testing the light, when I noticed it, the line of small round bistro style tables so common on Broadway now. A row had been pushed aside to allow pedestrians a clear walking path and the light snow had settled on their smooth, round tops, making a natural broken line pulling your eye towards the backdrop of the Square, and farther along past the iron fencing and arched gate, Broadway fading in the distance. The final element needed were the pedestrians, so I waited a bit watching and prepared for the right moment.

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Here was the modern vision of Stiegletz's New York as seen in his early work, just at the turn end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth. Taken at street level, capturing in the every day moments of the city and in doing so, capturing something of the life and spirit of the great city.

What do you see?

What do you see? Seems a simple question at first glance, doesn't it?

As a photographer, this is obviously a question present in my mind almost constantly. It happened to come to the fore recently when someone was looking at a photograph I had just taken of the Great South Bay. After gazing at the image for a few moments, they wanted to know what the location of the subject was. I responded by describing where the photograph was taken from and the specific area covered within the frame. But, being me, the exchange prompted a new train of thought.

Was this persons perception limited to the physical reality of the photograph? Could they only see the wonderful color of the reflected light off the breeze kissed water, the strip of land in the distance? I will never know in this particular instance, but it is all but certain that this is the case for some people. All they see is the immediate reality before them. I suppose in some ways this is a good thing as it insures, at least to some degree, that they are engaged in the moment.

The photograph can still work on this level, but if it doesn't trigger more in the mind of the viewer it probably isn't working as the photographer intended. Photography suffers a bit on this front due to the very nature of the medium. The camera, at it's most fundamental level, is a recording device. It allows the user to record some event, place or thing in the present moment for future reference. All other artistic mediums are used in the opposite direction. The artist takes an unformed medium - paint, clay, stone, etc. - that has no inherent representational reality and manipulates it to communicate a message. Photography starts with a representational reality, and must be manipulated to convey a message. For the photographer, this is where the question of 'what do you see?' takes flight.

When I saw this particular sunrise, with it's wonderful and unusual soft, brassy light reflected off the silky smooth, quiet water of the Bay, my initial reaction was much like anyone else, frozen to momentary immobility by the serene beauty of the scene. Having my Canon 5D MKII under my arm, the next thoughts were strictly technical, within seconds the camera was up and I rattled through the process of selecting aperture, shutter speed, focal point, etc. and started shooting. Somewhere in this transient moment of seconds is where we separate the artist from the 'taker of pictures'.

(click on image to enlarge)

Most people in that moment see the water, the color of the light, the island in the far distance. The observant will also notice the cloud formations and the really observant (or sailor!) will notice the reflections and patterns of the breeze touching the surface of the water. The photographer sees all these things and more. The aspect that makes the difference - What do you SEE? - lies within the power of metaphor, the potential for broader interpretation within the scene.

One of the aspects of a truly effective image is its ability to trigger the imagination. The body of water and islands in this photograph are intimately familiar to me, having sailed, kayaked and walked these places since my youth. Even still, when I look at this image, the composition and various elements of color and hints of form evoke the wanderlust within me. Recognizable features and details fade away in the distance and my imagination brings forth thoughts of far away places and exotic cultures. The ever curious explorer in me wants to go there, to discover new wonders and experiences that may lie in the mysterious islands just visible on that far, golden horizon.

The camera becomes so much more than a recording device, it has the potential to become a key to other worlds and places, even other times. The photograph opens a door to the place of dreams and fantastic imaginings. This is what I see when I look through the lens. What do you see?