We can complain all that we want about the snow and cold of winter in the Northeast. But in its own way it is a photographer’s paradise. There is a very special pastel quality to the sky, when it is crisp and cold. This past weekend we have had temperatures in the 50’s F on both days. I made it my task to clear my driveway of the ice block that forms in front of the garage because of the snow melting off the roof. Miraculously, I succeeded and just at sunset I went out to admire my own handiwork – thinking of Shackleton’s men trying to free the endeavour. The cloudiness of the afternoon was just beginning to break up, and there were wonderful petite billowing red and magenta clouds in a blue-violet sky that silhouetted the bare trees. It was a short lived moment, but I grabbed my camera and took one image, before the light darkened and changed.
The street photographers of Afghanistan
There was a time when you could walk down the street and photographers with large box cameras would offer to take your photograph. This was most prevalent at heavily trafficked tourist sites. And I guess that the modern equivalent is going to an amusement park like Disney World and getting your family’s picture snapped as you plummet terrified in the dark confines of a roller coaster ride. But in most, probably all, places on Earth the large box camera is yielding to the digital world and a rapidly vanishing anachronism.
Afghanistan is one of the few places on Earth where these street photographers remaining – even there we must ask for how long. The Afghan street photographers use a simple type of instant camera, which they call a kamra-e-faoree. What is most fascinating is that these hand-built contractions serve as both camera and darkroom. After taking your picture the photographer places a black cloth over the camera, opens a side door, and develops the image. One of these Afghan photographer is shown in Figure 1.
It is all really fascinating. And it is the aim of the Afghan Box Camera Project to create a lasting record of the methods and the work of these dedicated photographers. On the Afghan Box Camera website you can find instructions on building and using a kamra-e-faoree, as well as background on the history of Afghan street photographer, and most significantly extensive examples of the work of these street photographers. If you think that large format photography is difficult to practice when you have all the advantages of modern cameras and materials visit this site.
Majestic elms
I’ve spoken about the beauty of trees, of their appeal to a mythic chord within us, and of some of the great photographers, like Beth Moon and Ansel Adams, who have excelled in capturing this special subject. So not surprisingly I was taken this past Sunday by Guy Trebay’s column in the New York Times Sunday Review about the majestic, vaulting row of elm trees that stretches from 110th to 59th Streets in New York’s Central Park. Central Park was meant to be a gift top the people of the city and these trees are there for anyone, who pauses long enough from the brutal bustle of the city in winter and looks or photographs. Indeed the column is accompanied by a beautiful image of the snow covered elms along Poet’s Walk in Central Park by New York Times photographer Craig Blankenhorn. And this image demonstrates that there is beauty even on the gloomiest of winter days – ready to be captured by the camera.
Photographers, of course, are always looking. And in this sense they really do pause to smell the roses. If you do a simple Google or Bing search of “Poet’s Walk,” you will find a century’s worth of some really beautiful and wonderful images of Olmstead’s gift to New Yorker’s. It is spectacular in all seasons.
Great vaulting rows of elms used to line and shade the Main Streets (and Elm Streets) of many American towns. I include as illustration Figure 1, which show’s Lafayette Street in Salem, Massachusetts in 1910. But most have fallen victim to Dutch Elm Disease. I remember, as a graduate student at Cornell University in the 1970’s watch the last fight by these glorious trees that once lined the center of the campus.
Winter is ripe with photographic guilt. There is great beauty outside, but it is also very cold. So I have to say that Mr. Trebay’s column and Mr. Blankenhorn’s photograph have inspired me anew to venture out in the New England winter to record the glory of trees in snow.
Zena Holloway’s magical underwater world
I promised you some really gorgeous photographic “shtick” today and I am going to deliver. Someone posted a link to this on one of the Facebook Photo Groups and I was truly amazed and well, bewitched by the imagery. So I’d like to introduce you to the spectacular and truly magical photographs of fashion photographer, Zena Holloway. Ms. Holloway is both a highly talented photographer and an experienced diver. Her “shtick” is to photograph her models floating under water, usually with equally spectacular clothing floating like ethereal gossamer. All of this combines to titillate our sense of wonder, of dreaming of merpeople, of defying both gravity, and the need for oxygen. I for one am totally captivated.
And in directing you to some of her photographs, I am at a loss as to where to begin or which to chose. For pure magic let’s begin with the image of a woman swimming and entwined with the light of a jelly fish – certainly a hugely difficult picture to construct. Then there is this wonderful picture of an encounter between a child and a seal, a touching interspecies moment. And finally basic, but really intriguing, is this picture of a swimmer with a horse in “Open Water.”. There is a huge amount of work and talented in setting up this kind of shot and elaborate reworking and combining in the light room. The more of Ms. Holloway’s pictures I look at the more I am enchanted.
Photographic shtick and gimmickry
I wanted to talk today a little about shtick and gimmickry in photography. According to the Wikipedia, “shtick,” which can also be spelled “schtick,” is derived from the Yiddish word shtik (שטיק), meaning “piece”; the closely related German word Stück has the same meaning. But that’s really not what it means. Shtick is often used in the context of comedy – Henny Youngman’s shtick was his violin. I can just see most of my readers, Henny Who? Henny Youngman was a comedian who played the violin, it was his shtick or trademark. Ah, now we are getting somewhere. The word shtick kind of means trademark, or what sets that person apart from the crowd by creating instant recognition. Alfred Hitchcock and M. Night Shyamalan share a shtick. They both make cameo appearances in their movies.
If you see a glorious western vista, you immediately think of Ansell Adams, that was his shtick regardless of whether he actually took the photograph. A great example of photographic shtick is Murad Osmann’s photographic Instagram series/blog “Follow me,” where the photographer and consequently the viewer is led around the world by the back reached hand of his beautiful girlfriend, Nataly Zakharova. This is what Osman does, you immediately recognize a photograph as being his, and he has attained, well, viral internet recognition. Similarly we have Diane Arbus, who is famous for her photographs of “deviant and marginal people.”. (I am not sure that I am happy with that phrase, but it is what the wiki on Arbus uses.” But again, such a photograph brings immediate recognition as being either by Arbus or derivative of her.
But then we move into a grayer territory. Consider, for instance, the mirror distortion photographs that we have previously discussed by Andre Kertesz. Once again such an image of a nude woman distorted in a circus mirror is immediately associated with Kertesz, but because Kertesz did so many different types of images in his lifetime his distortion photographs are more a series or a study set, then true persistent shtick. Likewise, Edward Weston’s salad photographs.
It is a marvelous fact that everyone, who takes and practices photography seriously, brings a unique and recognizable fingerprint to their craft. One of the best ways to discover yours is to do a theme set of pictures – that is give yourself an assignment to take a series of connected photographs of some particular subject. You know boats, other photographers taking pictures, hummingbirds, whatever. Look for the similarities in your vision. What is it that you always do?
And developing a shtick can be a short cut to achieving ephemeral fame. This is finding your photographic voice and then adding just a bit of predictable spontaneity, and you’ve got shtick.
My reason for bringing this up, is that I’d like to add the word “shtick” to the Haiti and Skoll vocabulary. And, by the way, there is nothing wrong with shtick. It can be really fun, really unique, and truly beautiful. Tomorrow, I’m going to show you some absolutely gorgeous shtick from a contemporary photographer. But, and for today, I’d like to share one of the little angel photographs of Julia Margaret Cameron, whom we have spoken a lot about. This kind of Christian allegory was, well you know, one of her shticks!
The artist at work
I know that I use the word wonderful a lot. Still there is a wonderful set of images on MSN showing artists and writers in their studios at work. It is absolutely delightful! So I felt that I had to share it with all of you. And apropos of our discussion of how the photographs gives you admittance to another time and place, where you feel at some level to be interacting with the artist, here you feel like you are meeting these people in the flesh – despite the fact that many of them are long gone to us. Such is the magic of photography. (Psst! I say that a lot too!) I’ve got several favorites among these. First is a portrait of Ansel Adams working in his studio on a print in 1968. Second, is an intensely personal picture of David Hockney painting on the floor of his studio in 1967. And finally, out of deference to a certain reader Hunter S. Thompson in his studio in 1996.
We learn that these geniuses are just like us. Some are neat-niks and some are slob-niks. In some cases the studio is austere and nearly empty. In other cases it is cluttered and reminiscent of what Joseph Campbell referred to as mythic ruins. I have included as Figure 1 a similar type of picture of American Sculptor Daniel Chester French in his studio in 1920. This image is more posed than the images in the series, but still presents and intimacy with the artist and places him among the relics of his own creation – relics that mimic the monumental and the classic.
Camera Optics – the single lens reflex (SLR)
I’d like to return today to our technical discussion of camera optics. We have looked at what mirrors do to light and at what lens do to light. Based on what we learned so far take a look at Figure 1 which shows the innards of a single lens reflex or SLR camera. The first object that we see is the lens. The lens is actually a composite of multiple lenses. However, we know that the lens is going to invert the object on the sensor or film. Up and down is flipped, and so is right and left. Look at Figure 2. If the object was the letter F (Today’s blog is brought to you by the letter F) then what appears on the sensor or film is the “lens inverted image.” This is what you see in a large format camera on the ground glass.
It is also all that you need to make a camera if it is to be purely digital. This is because in a digital camera you can make all the corrections that you need computationally. You display and store the file with all the corrections made.
The In the next generation of camera, makers decided that this inversion needed to be fixed. By putting a mirror into the camera at a right angle they could create a “righted mirror image” where up and down were fixed but right and left were still flipped. You can do this with a single lens, in which case the lens needed to be flipped out of the way when the picture was taken. A second approach was the twin lens reflex, which had two identical lens: one for the picture and one for the viewfinder. This is, of course, a bit costly and also introduces what are called parallax effects as the object gets closer and closer to the image.
To create the right side up image of the modern SLR viewfinder, makers use a pentaprism, which is actually a set of reflective (like a mirror) surfaces that multiply flip the image until it is corrected and do this in a fairly confined space. For illustrative purposes you can follow the multiple reflections of the blue and red rays in Figure 3 to convince yourself that geometric points wind up where they need to be. This is shown in Figure 1 and in more detail in Figure 3. Again with the modern SLR it is necessary to flip the mirror out of the way during the exposure. This can be done either automatically or manually before exposure if you are afraid of vibrations affecting your image.
Abstract bubbles and hidden light at the mall
Well as I have bemoaned repeatedly, it has been a bad winter here in Massachusetts. So I have often been driven back to the mall to walk. That’s not so bad and I always have my cell phone with me to serve as a pseudo large format IPhone camera for photographing abstractions. So today I have two offerings from a visit last Sunday. The first is a wall beside “Marbles, The Brain Store” tiled with bubbles. I love it. The second is of two overlapping white tiled walls, and there is a glow of light from behind. For some reason this picture reminds me of one of those 1950’s low-budget B science fiction movies. “Don’t go near the nuclear glow behind the wall! Alright winter has taken my wits from me.
The glow image is an example of where the IPhone fails. It is eight bit and cannot really handle the high dynamic range of the image. There is just too much graininess when you get rid of the useless bits. I retried it with the HDR setting, but that wasn’t much better.
John Dillwyn Llewelyn, the photographer of Penllergare
Last week I was reading about a man in Wales, who was cleaning out his garage in 1973 and came upon a box of old daguerreotypes. His brother-in-law sought the advice of Noel Chanan, a photographer and filmmaker. The rest, as they say, is history. The box contained upwards of forty family images by the great-great grandfather of the man, John Dillwyn Llewelyn (1810-1882). Llewelyn was a British amateur scientist and photographer. He was married to a cousin of Henry Fox Talbot.
Llewelyn’s earliest attempts at photography were not, in his opinion, all that successful. He experimented both with Talbot’s process and with daugerreotypes. After a few years he abandoned photography, but picked it up again in the 1850′ s by which time the processes had advanced considerably. He invented what he called the “oxymel process,” which combined honey and vinegar to produce a dry plate. This was important because the wet colloidal process, then in use, was cumbersome in that it required the photographer to immediately develop his/her negatives. With the “oxymel process” the glass negative could be held for a few days before developing. He is also credited with the invention of an instantaneous shutter – enabling for instance the photgraphs of breaking waves and moving water.
Many of Llewellyn’s photographs can be seen on Noel Chanan’s website. He has also recently released a biography of John Dillwyn Llewelyn, “The Photographer of Penllergare,” which is available through the website.
Figure 1 is an excellent example of Llewellyn’s work. It shows his family (Theresa, John, and Willie at Caswell in 1853). This is precisely the kind of intimate glimpse of nineteenth century life that we have been talking about. There is a sharp freshness to the scene, and we almost imagine that we are there with them. They do not stare back at us, but rather appear to be involved with each other. They seem however, as I have suggested before, not oblivious to us, but rather seem to know that we are out there (here).
Both the book and Mr. Chanan’s website are filled with this kind of familial image. But there are other outstanding gems as well. I particularly like “The Stag, 1856,” which appeals to a sense of English mythology and was taken using a taxidermy specimen because a real stag could not be counted upon to stand still long enough for proper composition and exposure. I also think that “St. Catherine’s Island, Tenby, 1854″ is as fine a piece of landscape photography as I have ever seen. As is always the case we can learn a lot from these early photographic pioneers. Their compositions a classical sense of what a picture should be.