Written as a dialog based on 12 hours of recorded conversation between a photographer (Hurn) and an editor/academic (Jay), this text is a useful guide to the professional and creative aspects of photography. It is not a cook-book of techniques, but an exploration of what photographers do, how they think and behave. The first chapter gives a rather long-winded summary of David Hurn’s career - easy to skip if you’re in a hurry - but then gets into some rather interesting discussion of issues of basic important to anyone aspiring to photographic practice.
The authors stress that first and foremost photographers are selectors of subject, and that without a proper subject, a photographer may be left wandering about taking photos of all sorts of unrelated stuff that may never gel into a project. I am reminded of the writer called on to narrow down his subject as narrowly as possible and the argument here is much the same. They go so far as to state: “Much as it might offend the artistically inclined, the history of photography is primarily the history of subject matter. (p29)”
Absent a proper subject, aesthetic techniques become a substitute subject. “What is the alternative to an emphasis on subject matter? It is a frantic grasping for instant gratification which all too often leads to works displaying visual pyrotechnics but of dubious depth and resonance. Photographers become pressured into a search for different-ness, a quest for newness which usually means an unusual technique.... (p32)”
On developing personal style, they note this is best approached like the Tao: only by not looking can one see it, only by not striving can one achieve it. “A unique style, which is what we are talking about, is the by-product of visual exploration, not its goal. Personal vision comes only from not aiming at it. Over a long period of time and through many, many images, the self re-emerges with even greater strength than if it were the end-product. Ironically, by starting with self, it is missed; ignore it, and it becomes evident. (p33)”
They use an example of a mother taking a snapshot of her child as encompassing the basic tenets of all photography: knowing the subject intimately, maintaining enthusiasm for the subject, and acting spontaneously without concern for self.
Regarding what makes a photograph beautiful, they stress not so much the obvious aesthetic features, but something I have heard used to describe the beauty of music - the sense of surprise and the unexpected. “For me, most great photographs displaying beauty reveal a sensation of strangeness, not predictability, a kind of shock non-recognition inside the familiar. They are the opposite of clichés; they have a quality beyond the visually obvious. (p45)”
There is a rather long chapter on printing and analyzing contact sheets. The lesson here is to critically review all your work to better understand how the poor picture could have been made better.
The following chapter on the Picture Essay begins rather presumptuously with the assertion that photographs should be shown. “Photographers should not put pictures in a box under their beds and be the only ones to see them. If they put film in their cameras it presupposes that they want to record what they see and show somebody else. Photography is about communication. (p55)” Photography might for some people, like Vivian Mayer, for example, be a way of working out a way to live comfortably in the world that has nothing to do with communicating to others.
The point here seems to be that in order to progress on a project, the photographer needs feedback as a way to sharpen vision. “But the practice must be directed. In other words, it is not a learning process to wander around banging off frames of film for the sheer fun of shooting pictures. You learn by concentrating on a subject, planning the actual shooting and critically evaluating the results. (p58)”
They also note in a succeeding chapter the importance of working to a brief. “I think we have made the point that photographers — as well as painters, writers and all creative people — have often produced their best work when working under an exacting set of conditions, whether self- applied or provided by others. My guess is that the history of photography abounds with examples which would confirm this idea. (p78)”
I have found this so. The projects I work on for my OCA courses do push me to shoot things I wouldn’t normally, and to work towards producing a product, even if only a few images and a couple of paragraphs on the learning blog. On the other hand, there is also value in wandering with a camera, seeing what there is to see, and learning what can be photographed.
A chapter on equipment includes the obligatory warning of not becoming overly obsessed with the latest gadget or camera iteration. They note a three stage process in which the novice is overly concerned with tech, the experienced amateur dismissive, and the professional wise enough to recognize its value as one of many factors required in producing good images. They return again to the idea that lack of adequate subject matter results in preoccupation with technique (and tech). “There is a constant cry for the new. Some complain of the same old subject matter. They see the answer as a new style or a change of equipment: a bigger flash, a faster motor. History shows us that it is the visually simple that lasts, and that the simple always appears to have an ease of execution. I say “appears” as I am sure that apparent ease is the most difficult of all things to achieve. (p67)”
The next chapter looks at future trends as imagined in 1997. Perhaps the most interesting things they have to say are on academia, philosophy and critical studies. “Whole photographic departments are now engaged in defining things. Not too many pictures are taken. To quote Robert Adams again: “Philosophy can forsake too easily the details of experience…many writers and painters have demonstrated that thinking long about what art is or ought to be ruins the power to write or paint.” I think that is true for photographers. (p73)”
The book concludes with 10 Photographic Myths that most anyone who has been studying photography for a while will recognize. Number 7, though, caught my attention, and as I have yet to read such honest opinion in my studies at OCA, and as it fairly summarizes my own observations, I quote the answer in its entirety:
Myth No. 7:Critics and theorists are useful to photographersMost colleges and universities do not hire the best in the field because these individuals are full-time photographers. Teachers are in the classroom, or at meetings, most of the time so all they can do is talk about photography. So it is not surprising that in academia has arisen a peculiar type of critical theory which young photographers are expected to apply to their own work and reference when discussing the work of others.
We have two attitudes to critical theory:
Attitude one: When critical theory is taught prior to or simultaneously with the making of images: in this case, critical theory is not only useless, it is also positively dangerous. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the production of fi ne photographs. The irony here is that most of the top photographers, often cited by the critics, have never read these theories, would not understand them even if they encountered them, and have no idea that such an infl uential group of thinkers exists in the medium! The dangerous aspect of theory for young photographers is that attempting to apply its precepts leads to total paralysis. We have both encountered many photographers who have completely dried up as image-makers in an effort to take pictures which conform to critical theories. Those who do not stop completely make very bad images which are then discussed/justified in blinding, mind-numbing jargon. There is a distinct correlation at work: the more the intrusion of critical theory before the act of photography, the worse the images will be.
Attitude two: When critical theory is taught after the images have been made or about other photographers’ works: in this case, critical theory can be an enjoyable way of stretching the mind, if the critic is capable of thinking clearly and expressing his/her self with concise, vivid prose. Photography is a field with an infinite number of profound issues spanning sociology, history, psychology, biography, science, anthropology, and all the arts; each image can be a pebble — dropped in the pond of consciousness where the ripples eventually lap the very edges of human existence. Talking about these broader, deeper issues in the medium can be full of stimulation, inspiration and the sheer pleasure of working out in a mental gymnasium.
We say “can be” … usually critical theory is none of the above but an experience akin to wading in thick mud through a dense fog. It is no fun. The reason is that the language used by academic theorists in photography is so dense, obscure, jargon-fi lled and so damned dull that it is usually impossible to decipher the points that are being made.
Perhaps the issues are so profound that they cannot be expressed in clear, intelligible, vivid prose? Not likely. When scientists such as Stephen Jay Gould, Stephen Hawkins, Paul Davies, Lewis Thomas and Arthur Koestler can write about theories of life’s origins, the nature of time, quantum physics, the limits of the universe, the paradoxes of evolution, and similarly complex topics, and produce books of such dazzling appeal that they are best-sellers, are we really saying that photography is so much more profound that its issues cannot be explained in clear language? We think not.
Our conclusion is that critical theorists in photography cannot think clearly or write well.
They have many excuses, we are sure, but the bottom line is that their essays are useless because they are unintelligible. But that is not a condemnation of the critical faculties applied to photographs. We hope a time will come when a Gould/Hawkins/Davies will turn their attention to photography. Meanwhile, we pass… (pp91-92)
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