Shooting in Squares—Part 1

 

Our Grumpy Old Photographers Group, who gather for coffee each Friday, decided that Trump had world events well under control, so for this week, we would neglect to provide any solutions. Instead, we talked about Vivian Maier's photography, including how she went about her craft and how her culture for street photography was much different than ours today. Our discussion led us to an experiment of sorts in order to see how Vivian saw the world through her camera. To us, one of the simplest ways to do this was to start creating our compositions in squares, like she did with her two-and-a-quarter-square film negatives.

The two photos I decided to share this week are the beginning of that experiment. The top photo is a model of the Titanic, which was put on display at the local art center. The model was beautifully constructed with fine details showing its deck chairs still in perfect alignment. It was displayed in a four- to five-foot glass case, and that is the reason you see the top edges of that case in my photo. I thought about cloning them out of the picture but couldn't develop a compelling argument for doing it or not doing it. Therefore, I left the display case edges as photographed. Because I chose to shoot a low camera angle as if from the iceberg, I had my background blown out by the bank of windows, giving the appearance of a white blanketing fog. My intent was to provide a minimalist look to suggest isolation. Upon further review, I think an even lower camera angle may have offered more symmetry within the frame.

By taking this photo, I learned that symmetry is more important than balanced elements are when shooting squares. I also learned how programmed I am in seeing compositions as the rule of thirds subconsciously.

Both photos this week were taken with an Olympus OMD em5, a 15-year-old Micro Four Thirds camera. This is important because I had only one lens with me when I came upon the old tow truck. That lens was a 45 mm lens, which is the equivalent of a 90 mm lens on a full-frame camera. I found it hard to fit the subject in the square frame without shooting from some distance. This is not the way that I shoot normally, and the result and my approach were different. I was not able to get some of the detail shots composed the way that I saw them in my mind. For me, this cost some loss of intimacy with the subject. Consequently, I am going to use a wider-angle zoom and revisit this scene to get the photos I couldn't take during that first visit.

My initial impression of shooting squares is that the frame fills so easily, but that gives some concern for how to exclude some scene elements without making the corners of the frame feel uncontrolled and messy. I am not feeling that my eyes are going through the frame in the same way as when I compose in a 4:3 ratio. I think using leading lines in square-format landscape photography would be challenging. During the coming week, I am hoping to do some architectural photos because I think the square would lend itself well to that type of photography. I will also attempt some close-up and landscape photos to see what challenges they might present. 

I am thankful for the opportunity to get out of my comfort zone and to have my square-shooting, grumpy, old friends share their experiences with me during the next week. It's great to have photo buddies to help me learn. Photography, at its best, should never be a solely individual experience. This experiment should make for an interesting part two blog.

 

 

Bigger Than Life & Beyond Reason

If you have passed through or vacationed in Wisconsin, you have no doubt seen one of these giant statues or balloons in front of a business. I am not sure they are exclusive to the Wisconsin commercial life, but I have concluded they are an accepted part of the cheddar culture. My image was taken in Wisconsin, where it is prominently displayed in front of a fireworks outlet. Its fierce visage likely is attributed to finding few skyscrapers to climb.

These commercial giants, along with their miniature, more populous cousins, the common lawn statue, confirm that there is something in our psyches that embraces these things. To examine that concept, I spoke to several neighbors about the reasons they chose to display a statue within their landscape. One neighbor told me that he placed a concrete deer near the edge of his property to mark the property line. I'm not sure the real deer that occasionally pass through our neighborhood feel the same about property lines. Another neighbor told me that the regal-looking concrete dog guarding the entry to his house served as a reminder of his love for a special setter. Out of sheer whimsy, most people who are inclined to purchase lawn statues will first buy a garden gnome. I like to think that garden gnomes are like a gateway drug for the lawn statue collectors. Gnomes are easily hidden among garden foliage and are hardly noticed by the neighbors, but suddenly the gnome is joined by a fearsome gargoyle near the mailbox.

I think whimsy is the main reason people purchase a lawn ornament. I can't believe that this is a rational decision developed in the same manner as buying a new sofa. For that reason, these giant figures greeting us at restaurants, grand openings, and even fireworks stands appeal to the whimsy within us and compel us to stop for a second look. Putting a little whimsy in your photography is not a bad idea either.

 Discovering the Extraordinary                     Within the Ordinary

A fellow photographer friend, Ed Johnson, took this photo during an iron man competition this past weekend. Not often do you see a tandem bike in such a competition, but leave it to Ed to find the unusual. Even his approach to shooting the competition was unusual. Most of us seek to photograph the spirited competition among the leaders within the event. Ed's strategy for photographing the competition was to concentrate on the contestants who were staging at the middle and proceeding toward the rear. His strategy makes sense if you believe that we sometimes bring or assign a story to our photos by the way we capture them.

Ed's curiosity concerning the tandem bike entry into the iron man prompted him to share this photo with a regional newspaper. From this news contact, he learned that the athlete in the rear seat is blind. He is supplying the power to the pedals while his friend steers the bike. During the river swim portion and throughout the run, he was tethered to his friend. In total, this pair covered more than seventy-one miles this day. They didn't win any trophies, but they finished the competition. This photo was possible because Ed made a conscious decision to photograph those who wouldn't be photographed and cheered at the finish line. It was his way to shine a light on those who compete but never find the public spotlight.  

This ordinary photo holds value for its extraordinary story from at least two perspectives. From the perspective of the blind athlete, he entered this contest knowing he would not win any trophy, but he would gain great satisfaction from finishing. What kind of courage does it take to enter a contest knowing that winning is not likely, participation is demanding, but standing on the sidelines is not an option?

From the friend's perspective, he had the advantage of sight. He, too, had to be an elite athlete to do an ironman event. In fact, he had to be at least as good and likely a better athlete than his friend. His participation as a friend was an act of pure selflessness—a rare commodity these days.   

Some of the photos we take are not stellar by photographic standards, but they hold extraordinary worth because they help us learn a beautiful story. Sometimes that story comes serendipitously, as if it had a plan of its own for us to follow. I have said many times that the people we meet through photography are one of the greatest joys of the hobby, and the stories we learn from them motivates us to see life through the viewfinder more clearly and to embrace our photography with greater passion.

Life is a journey, not a competition.

 Simon and Garfunkel are wrong!

"Everything looks worse in black and white." Not so! Black and white has a simple charm that color cannot convey. Some photographers claim black-and-white photos convey mystery. For me, the mystery of black and white photography is how black and white seems so simple and conveys such complex thoughts and emotions in a way that would get absorbed by color. Black and white has a way of stripping away all the clutter to bring the eye directly to what is important for the viewer. 

I have taken two black and white photos this week that are two distinct products.  For this vintage car, I chose to create a high-contrast image because of its age and also because it has been restored to a like-new finish with a few modern touches.  The actual color of the car was a deep green, which would have competed with other greens in the rather simple background. 

The other photo displays an empty farmhouse that was surrounded by old, dying trees with broken limbs. The darker trees framed the farmhouse, leading the viewer's eyes to the abandoned two-story home. This photo was all about the different textures in the trees and the battered siding on the house, making this photo less contrasty in selected areas and more prickly in others. The softer gray tones on the farmhouse bring the feeling of abandonment and a haunting message.

Many of us would agree with this quote attributed to Walt Whitman about the feel of black-and-white photos. 

"What I like about black-and-white photographs is that they're more like reading the book than seeing the movie."

 

Graduation Traditions & Transitions 

American Graffiti is one of my favorite movies because it captured the feeling of standing on a precipice filled with excitement while facing great uncertainty. Whenever I attend a graduation ceremony, that feeling is rekindled as I watch the students parade in, cross the stage, and parade outdoors once more. Graduation is an act of looking backward and looking forward simultaneously.

I delayed writing this blog due to a storm of sports team finals and a sequence of end-of-the-school-year activities, including two graduations. Over the past two weekends, I have attended high school graduation ceremonies for two of my grandkids. Both of them are graduating from larger high schools, necessitating travel to larger public arenas that could accommodate the crowds. After watching both ceremonies, I have three thoughts I would like to share. One thought spotlights the graduates' expressions at those moments that they were awarded their diplomas. My second thought concerns the content of speeches delivered at the ceremony, and the final thought is about the relevance of traditional graduation ceremonies.

As a photographer, I tend to study the range of students' expressions at graduation. Watching them walk across the stage prompted me to recall some of that emotion, which I experienced many years ago. The majority of students were sufficiently humbled as their full middle name was blasted out over the PA system, causing them to seek no further notoriety and meekly accept their diploma as a final act of compliance with high school rules. Unfortunately for some students, high school was a living social hell and their graduation was viewed as an escape portal -- slip away unnoticed and hope emotional healing may follow.  Others felt the moment more keenly and expressed it in a variety of ways. Upon receiving their diploma, some students made the sign of the cross, perhaps in an act of gratitude for divine intervention in their completion of high school. Free at last! Other students danced a quick jig or pumped their diplomas in the air as an act of spontaneous joy, while others descended the stage to hug a favorite teacher lining the rows. Of course, there is always that one "special" student who seizes his moment in front of an audience. Evidently the pressure of the moment was too great when a young man confused his high school graduation with Seinfeld's Festivus celebration by displaying a feat of strength. I admired his agility when he performed a flawless back flip in his cap and gown immediately after exiting the stage.

Graduation ceremonies would not be complete without the speeches. The most traditional speeches are delivered by the valedictorian and the salutatorian, the most academically gifted students. Their speeches thank teachers and parents who helped them excel in their studies, and they also attempt to highlight some universal truth or extol the ethic of diligent work or self-reliance. It's only natural that their speech follows that pattern since these good habits and values have served them well during their high school years. It's the "what comes next" and knowing what to do when no one provides them with next week's assignment that is problematic. This is not a criticism, but it is an observation revealing that these stellar scholars are equally unseasoned in life as their lesser-achieving classmates. If you are fortunate, the graduation ceremony will feature student speeches and performances rather than the dry, obligatory speeches by the adults who use the stage to highlight their esteemed positions. Those adults often forget that graduation ceremonies are about student transitions, celebrating their endings and fresh beginnings. 

My final thought concerning graduation is an invitation to consider with me a need for an alternative graduation that may be offered as an option against the traditional ceremony. For some, the concept of a traditional graduation ceremony remains a meaningful way to celebrate the transition between high school and life as a fully independent adult. However, would it be reasonable to offer two graduation ceremonies among which students would have the opportunity to choose? The traditional graduation ceremony, as currently practiced, should be an option if for no other reason than its traditions run deep in families and communities. There are many valid reasons to commend it. However, our culture and lives have changed, as have the students graduating from our high schools. What would happen if our students (soon to be fellow adult community members and neighbors) were offered a greater voice in the conduct of their graduation ceremonies? Recognizing that schools have obligations to civil law and responsibilities to their own community, is it possible that a steering committee composed of students, interested faculty members, and even a respected community member design an alternative graduation ceremony? I would hope that the student voices would be heard and that they would be considered equal partners in this design.

While graduation traditions may bind us together, they can also feel as confining as a prison cell. What may a graduation alternative ceremony look like?  

The valedictorian and salutatorian still may lay claim to their roles within the traditional ceremony. Their scholarship is worthy of recognition. The alternative graduation may elect to feature respected fellow classmates who exhibited good character and acceptable academic performance. Those students selected for speaking roles may not be those students who excelled at answering questions posed in the classroom or on exams. The students selected to speak at the ceremony may be those students who were good at asking questions and being open to others. They may be skilled at overcoming their mistakes and embarrassments and can inspire their classmates to find courage when facing difficult tasks at school or outside of school issues. Students may wish to substitute Pomp and Circumstance with music more meaningful to them but still pertinent to graduation themes. Instead of a speaker, students may produce a video that was developed to chronicle their high school experience and share what they have learned collectively about themselves and through working together. As for the caps and gowns, they may be retained as a nod to tradition, but if they were omitted, would it be a great loss? (I have yet to find a suitable occasion to wear my cape and sober black mortarboard cap). High school is very real, as is routine everyday adult life. Can we make a more compelling story for our students and community about that transition?

A tradition without intelligence is not worth having." – T.S. Eliot 

Disclaimer: I just returned from my grandchild's eighth grade graduation. Nothing discussed above should ever apply to middle school students who experience each day as a variety show!

 No Longer Saving Soles

For the past ten days I have been searching my digital archives for the original copies of these photos.  I have been unsuccessful in locating the hard drive that contains them, so I had to download smaller copies from my Flickr site.

When you look closely at these photos you will note they have some uncorrected barrell distortion which doesn't bother me much.  I chose to shoot the interior with an 11-16mm zoom because the shop was narrow and deep.   This zoom has been useful in architectural photos and landscape photography.  I like the way it stretches the edges of the sky making them look dramatic.  The lens is a good response for tight places where choosing a different location is difficult.

I am fond of the top photo for a number of reasons.  It holds a special memory reaching back to my youth.  As a young adult, I had my shoes re-soled here making them look magically new again and avoiding the discomfort of breaking in new shoes.  The smell of leather dyes, polish, and freshly cut leather perfumed the interior upon entry.  The shop was family owned for decades and finally closed its doors due to a culture that values disposal over renewal.

Another reason this photo resonates with me is its warm tones which give it a feeling of intimacy as one feels when returning to a familiar place.  The stained and cracked walls added authenticity. The shoe stitching machines were somewhat vintage when the shop opened, but they continue to suggest a manufacturing industry that once drove this community for decades and still remains part of the community's character.

In the days leading to the closing, I asked the owner about the sign that hung above the buffers for all those years.  He said that it was a gift from a local convent from the nuns for generous service.  It seemed  a perfect sentiment from the givers and served as a poetic mission statement for the owners. 

 

Future Photographer

taken with an Olympus OMD em5 and a 24mm Nikon ais lens

I called this photo "Little Shooter" for obvious reasons. What attracted me was the pose the child was striking to use a cell phone to grab a shot of a little league game. She has probably witnessed the adults in her life taking photos of her or other children from this lower eye-level position. The fact that her photo will be of the peeling painted backboards is inconsequential. In this moment she is strictly enjoying the act of taking a photograph.  

Enjoying the experience of taking photos is the better half of photography. Taking the photo you want is a motivator, but the simple act of taking a photo is pleasurable at some level of our being. We all feel good when the shutter goes "click" and we hold possibilities and memories in our hands.

As I took this photo, I thought how frightening this photo may appear to the various camera manufacturers. The child is using a cell phone, mimicking the way that most adults take their photos these days. An adult in her life has given her their cell phone to take this photo, and she will subconsciously remember this moment not holding a Kodak, Nikon, Sony, or other major camera manufacturer's product. Oh, the things we pass on to our children/grandchildren--  a serious thought!