Chasing Shadows

The Puppet Master

My photo friend Ed and I have been chasing shadows for the past two weeks. We are doing so to keep us shooting and falling into photo ruts. The first week, Mother Nature provided a week full of muggy, cloudy days and overcast skies, which made our shadow chase difficult. During the second week, we had our chances but failed to find any unique shapes that really captivated our interests. So when you can't find what you want in the present, you dip into the past for inspiration. Therefore, I am sharing two photos from my archives.

I really like shadow photos because there is a sense of justice in allowing the shadow to assume the starring role in the photo as opposed to the supporting role shadows play in most photography. The top photo was one that I captured while out photographing other subjects. I wasn't looking for shadows; this one simply appeared out of nowhere. My first impression was that it carried a sinister aura, making it evident that I had come face-to-face with "The Puppet Master." While our eyes go to the light when we look at photos, our imagination is set in motion by the appearance of shadows. Shadows add so much mystery and dimension to photographs.  

The Touchdown

Not all shadows are sinister. My second shadow photo casts a more upbeat feel. Being that this weekend is the first official weekend of the NFL season, I couldn't help but notice its similarity to the signal used for a "touchdown." Both photos were shot in hard midday light, which created their sharp edges. Exposing for the highlights provided darker shadows, yielding a high-contrast look in both images.  

So while common advice calls for us to walk on the sunny side of the street, be on the lookout for shadows, which can set your imagination free.

Making the Ordinary Important 

My photo for this week was taken in a neighborhood that many would describe as dilapidated. The majority of the homes surrounding this one are in some stage of decline. The owners have given up on their properties by boarding up windows instead of repairing them, leaving trash in their yard, or by neglecting necessary and simple repairs to their homes. My guess would be that many of the occupants are renters as opposed to owners, and neither the owner nor the resident feels responsible or compelled to make any improvements, no matter how simple or essential they are. It is within this context that this image is important to me.  

A fair number of photos which I take bring a story to me.  This house may have a sentimental appeal because as a boy, I lived in such neighborhoods. My parents rented, but kept their property clean inside and out.  Dad had some gardening skills and mom never failed to decorate doors and windows for the seasons in simple and inexpensive ways.  It wasn't our dream home but it was a home where hope and gratitude grew.   A short quote from photographer Elliot Erwitt describes this feeling consisely: 

"To me, photography is an art of observation. It's about finding something interesting in an ordinary place... I've found it has 
little to do with the things you see and everything to do 
with the way you see them."

What I see in this photo is a hint of rebellion that is universally felt as an undercurrent in our society. People feel powerless, insignificant, and disconnected in a variety of small ways each day that affect their mindset. Consequently, they respond by withdrawl and cynicism.  In this home, I see a resident refuses to be powerless and has subtly planted the seeds of a personal revolution. While the door may be rusty and the sidewalk heaving, the flowers and greenery push back against the rest of the neighborhood's message of neglect and decline. Yes, it is a small act within his/her grasp that sends a message of hope and beauty to all who pass by this house daily. In the verbage of the 1960s revolutionary times, this is a true example of "flower power."

School Daze

School doors finally opened this week, ending the frenzy of last-minute vacations and the thrill of getting new school supplies, sturdy backpacks, and stylish clothing. Having worked in schools most of my life, I am probably more sensitive to this time of year than others. The cyclical nature of entering a new school year brings me comfort and hope in the same way that the Midwest corn harvest brings structure and solace to life. I have always felt that our lives should be more like the school calendar. We should yearly experience a new beginning where we can have a fresh start surrounded by a new crop of classmates who will soon become familiar friends. Some would claim that the adult version of this experience is New Year's, but I would disagree. New Years is similar to the start of school in that greater than normal amounts of alcohol are consumed by partygoers and by frazzled mothers, but New Years Day leads to January 2nd, when we return to the same old workplace and the same old routines punctuated by Christmas bills replacing cheerful holiday greetings. The start of a new school year changes the rhythms and routines of our lives. For children, the start of the new school year is truly a blank slate ushering forth the beginning of a new life within a new community.

My photo this week was chosen as a nod to the start of a new school year and new beginnings featuring high hopes and new friendships. I stylized my photo more than I wished for use in my blog to make it seem more generic, as in a back-to-school advertisement. The subjects are personal to me, and I didn't wish to draw attention to them; hence, the border, shading, and textures were applied. Needless to say, this was not a posed shot, and if there was a soundtrack for this moment, you would hear adults shouting in the background that the children should sit properly on the bench as if they were ready to recite their ABCs in an Amish classroom. You can see that the freedom of the laid-back summer days has not left their bodies. However, I couldn't help but notice that even in this uninhibited state, they are closed together in an embrace of one another that wasn't coached. Touching each other during this moment was what came naturally and served a much different purpose than the kind of touching in the backseat of the car during summer vacation. As parents, their embrace is something that we will wish for them to do throughout the different stages of their adult lives—carrying forward a little piece of their childhood, which is silently slipping away.

       Slipping through my fingers all the time, She leaves home in the early morning.                                        Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

Sometimes I wish I could freeze the picture And save it from the funny tricks of time                                              Slipping through my fingers all the time.

 ABBA - "Slipping Through My Finders"

Why Does This Feel Dishonest?

I'm experiencing a moral dilemma over this image. I created it, but to do so, I wholly enlisted the assistance of AI Designer. When it comes to artistic talent using a paintbrush, pen, or oil colors, I have absolutely no talent!

My recent photo software programs have become increasingly infused with what their sales reps call enhancements. These are enhancements that I didn't request and find increasingly difficult to work around. When I have used them, I feel that my photos no longer have the authenticity nor produce the style of imagery that I was entertaining at the moment they were taken. I find myself returning to previous versions of my software to find my identity in my recent photos. 

I don't think that I am alone in feeling this way. In the Washington Post and Wall Street Journal, I have read articles that suggest that people feel resistance to AI and yet it is being forced upon them. Where I see benefit in change, I accept it, read about it, and experiment with it. AI holds benefits for all of us, but each of us has to discover to what extent and in which area of our life we are willing to welcome AI.

Recently, I read a book about the disciple Peter, as he was one favored by Jesus even though he made so many blunders in the way he boastfully behaved before his peers and in the way he approached living out his faith. The mental images from my reading of that book served as an inspiration for me to create a replica of the scene from that book using only AI. I set about this task by describing the type of image that was forming in my mind. It took me about seven or eight verbally nuanced descriptions to arrive at the unique image I had in mind. I described it as a painterly image on canvas that reflected the characteristics of Renaissance paintings. I took special care to describe details in the image like Jesus looking longingly at Peter while Peter's response was to look away in disappointment and shame. I wanted Jesus's hands bound and the guards watching over the scene in the background.  To help others identify the moment, I requested a rooster to be present.

After many iterations, my mind's image finally appeared before me. I post processed the color tones and minimally edited the image using On One Photo Raw. I felt pride in discovering that I could conjure this AI image on a computer screen which so faithfully reflected the scene in my mind. At this point, I began to feel ownership of the process but not necessarily ownership of the final product.

To expand upon my experiment, I took this image to my friend, Bob, at Image N That Photo, where I have all my photos printed. I asked Bob to print it on canvas to give it the look of an authentic painting. We discussed again the color tones used by Renaissance painters to adjust the tones differently than they appear in this image. The result of this experiment was satisfying for Bob and me. However, I could never feel enough ownership to allow my signature in the lower left corner as my artist friends so rightfully do.

I plan to have the canvas stretched and mounted for display. My intention is to put it on a wall so that I can see it frequently to better understand why I feel as I do toward it. There are times when I take a photo because "something" compels me to do so. If I don't take the photo, the moment and whatever future revelation it may hold will be lost forever. I believe that there are photos we make that bring our past forward, and there are others that flash before us  and distill the present, but there are also some that stir something within that may be hopefully revealed in our future.  

 Summer Reruns

I took this photo late Saturday afternoon following a much-welcomed slow rain. As the sky began to clear, I happened upon a familiar scene and took advantage of the soaked and saturated landscape to catch a second view of a familiar location in its summer wardrobe.

This small milkhouse and a non-descript shed are the only remnants of a once working farm. Things change! Maybe that's the reason why some of us enjoy revisiting certain scenes to photograph them a second or third time. I believe that it is a behavior related to adults watching reruns of favorite television shows and small children choosing to have their parents read the same books to them over and over again. Because things change rapidly, we may resist it by clinging to the past as our security blanket.  I'm not sure that is a bad approach to the present but is it realistic?   

I believe that first impressions are important in photos and that those initial impressions are created by little nuances that perhaps lie at a subconscious level in our mind.  We shoot a photo for some reason that tells us we should because it elicits a feeling that we get from the subject. As that photo is post processed and we have more time to live with it, that feeling or reason becomes more transparent to our minds.  

When I photographed (see below) a winter version of this scene, I was physically cold and the blue tones and the bleak surroundings added a measure of loneliness that we all experience during the winter months. I remember thinking about whether to include or exclude the telephone poles and I kept them as part of the scene because they conveyed hope in the form of connecting with others just down the line.  Placing the horizon lower in the frame exposed more of the monotone sky which added to the feeling of desolation.

The summer version surprised me when I came upon it.  The hours of rain earlier that day saturated the the colors and the weathered sides of the building.  My first impression was how the vines, grasses, and wildflowers embraced the building, almost to the point of swallowing it up.  No suggestions of loneliness now. The sky was overcast but now a brighter shade of those same tones within the winter scene.  Giving little thought about the horizon, I subconsciously placed it higher in the frame to showcase the foliage that was nearly covering the little milkhouse.  This unconsidered thought gave the scene a vibrant and energetic feel.  Again, I kept the telephone pole and lines in the frame but they do not play the same role as they did in that first winter visit.

I titled this weeks blog Summer Reruns because in writing it,  I considered the question of whether reruns are a good or bad thing in photography. I enjoy returning to familiar places and sometimes I discover something new but rarely experience that same intense feelings that surfaced during  my original visit. Photography can bring satisfaction in the form of new insights into the ordinary life all about us and a measure of mental playfulness that grows creativity.  However, I feel that revisiting the same scenes and photographing the same content may lead to photographic atrophy and loss of spontaneity.  I'm not sure that there is a formula  that would fit all of us.  What I am sure of is that there is a level of tension that is right for each of us when it comes to living with our photographic past while still venturing into the present.

Shooting in Squares -- Part 2

For the past three weeks, I have photographed using a square format, as did many photographers who shot 6x6 film cameras. My purpose in doing the experiment was to see how it impacted the way I see and take photos. During these weeks, I attempted to shoot a variety of genres. While I didn't shoot as many photos in each

genre, I did find some more difficult than others. Landscape photography was the most challenging. For me, composing a photo without a long side felt very limiting. The use of foreground is important in square landscape photography, but I found it difficult to create a foreground while featuring the subject.

I found street photography and architectural photography the easiest genres for shooting squares. My reason for this is that I found it more comfortable to place my subject in various places within the square and still have a decent composition. For street photography, less attention is necessary for the frame edges, which is a personal hang-up.

One of my favorite images while shooting squares was the abstract to the right. It was shot on impulse without much thought other than I liked the way it fit into the square frame. It was shot in the dusty, curved rear glass of my car's tailgate. It is a reflection. When I reviewed my photos, I noticed the distortion and flattened, grainy appearance of the image, which was likely caused by all the dust on the tinted window. I felt that the colors and distortion added a Salvador Dalí look. It didn't hurt that surprise photographic finds are some of the photos we like the most. They are the equivalent of finding a twenty-dollar bill while walking into the coffee shop.

Shooting squares was both fun and informative. It prompted me to look for photos from a different perspective. I forced myself to shoot in squares by changing my viewfinder to a square format rather than cropping to 1:1 in post. This experiment exposed my personal quirks about needing to control the edges of my photos more than I should, and it also spoke to me about becoming a slave to the rule of thirds. Squares also taught me that I do not need to be chained to shooting in a 4:3 ratio as if I were placing all my photos in a publication. 

Whenever you try something new, you expect to make mistakes, and that is a good attitude to have approaching all photography because it is meant to be both forgiving and fun. Whoever said that you have to take photos like you keep score when playing golf? Some of the best times in photography happen when you unintentionally veer off the fairway and discover that there is an exciting path missed by those who only remain concerned about staying on the fairway where everyone is supposed to play.

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.