590 to 620 nm is that glorious region of the electromagnet (light) spectrum that we call the color “orange.” It is autumn in New England like nowhere else that I have lived this is a time to rejoice, to rejoice in the colors and flavors of the season. And the quintessential color of fall in New England is orange. Orange is everywhere, all shades of orange. Everyone is happy and everyone is snapping photographs. So I thought that I would celebrate the season with you and with a short photoessay that, because I am quirky, I am going to call “590 nm to 620 nm. What I was looking for was essentially tone-on-tone images, where the composition is dramatically enhanced by choosing a vibrant color for the image. This is the first part of a greater series of tone-on-tones that I am working on, with the ultimate intent of spanning the entirety of the visible spectrum.
The consequences of instantaneity
Photography is arguably the art of the instant, or at least it pretends to be. And there are many consequences of instantaneity. While I am not going to argue that before photography there never was an informal, candid, or comic portrait, we must conclude that photography has transformed portraiture and our concept of it. The transformation began with the advent of the Daguerrean Parlor, when a man or woman could walk in, pay a relatively small price, and walk out with a little portrait. As we have discussed it was the dawn of a new democratic age. Indeed, we still wax poetically about these early portraits. And then, of course, there was George Eastman and the revolution of the instantaneous, and often mediocre, that he created. Indeed, you could become quite impatient waiting for your prints to come back. Hence we had the invention of both the 1 hour photoservice and of the Polaroid instant photographic system – more mediocrity for the most part.
And now we find ourselves, or have propelled ourselves, into the new age of the digital photograph, where gratification is truly instantaneous and were we, more often than not, do not even require prints. The carbon-free age is upon us. You don’t really need to embrace any of this. It will happily call you Minivar Cheevy and leave you behind.
So I really encourage you to embrace it. Lay out the years of family holiday portraits on your dining room table and marvel at the connected story and the transformation. That’s your family, their history, their triumph. The silly photographs of family and friends wearing bizarre hats and mugging for the camera are some of the best. People are smiling and laughing, freed from the confines and strictures of formal portraiture – free to display their true selves.
My research group has gotten in the habit when out on scientific trips to find some kitschy icon, usually a silly statue, and photograph ourselves in front of it. We’ve got, for instance, Big Bird at the University of Michigan’s Children’s Hospital and Snoopy from the Minneapolis Airport. Figure 1 is our latest, yours truly sitting in front of a giant Chesapeake Crab at Baltimore’s Inner Harbor.
The selfie even frees you from needing someone else or a tripod and timer to take a self portrait. Witness, of course, Pope Francis and the world’s first papal selfie. This is all lots of fun. The only point that I would make is that I am a bit tired of seeing technically poor images on social media – flared images, out of focus images, improperly color corrected images. There’s really no excuse for any of this and it is a downside of services like Instagram and of the perceived need to take the quest for instantaneity just a bit too far. I guess that what I am suggesting is that you should strive for spontaneity but eschew mediocrity. Digital photography, with all the automatic processing that it provides, is designed to create fabulous pictures, a little circumspection is the key.
The glory of partially diffuse light
Yesterday, I was doing what photographers do, namely experimenting with semidiffuse light. Let’s start with a few definitions. Suppose that you are out on a bright cloudless day. The sun acts as a point source of light, just like a flashlamp. As a result, you get sharp shadows, which generally translates to high contrast in your photographs. This is nondiffuse light. Such light sources tend to create specular reflections off mirror like or shiny surfaces. On the other hand, if the sun is shining through clouds the light is bounced around until it is coming at you from all directions. There’s another way to create a diffuse light and that is by bouncing the light off a rough surface. Both of these reduce the contrast in the image.
So, what I’ve said is that there are two ways to diffuse or soften the light. First, you can pass it through a scattering medium like a cloud. Second, you can bounce it off a rough scattering surface.
Things can get really interesting when you start to work with semidiffuse light. Yesterday, I took the photograph in Figure 1, of highly intense directional light being diffused as it passed through sheer curtains. Notice how you can just make out some of the details behind the curtains, but that they are just a bit cloudy. The intensity of the light and its diffusion creates a very dreamy illumination that, to me anyway, screams out “morning.”
Figure 2, on the other hand, uses light that has filtered through a forest of leaves, thus losing some of its directionality. The shadows of the leaves and the window frame are fuzzed out. The light is then further diffused by the texture of the carpet. All in all it creates a very abstract sense.
Figure 3 combines both types of light. It is an early morning scene, taken a couple of weeks ago on my commute to work. The light is early morning light and very direct. Notice the sharply illuminated dew on the plants. But then notice how the morning fog diffuses the light creating dramatic sunbeams.
I am hoping that I have demonstrated the point that semidiffuse light can create very dramatic effects. And when you are really successful these effects can be quite magical.
The International Herald Tribune
For a generation of American’s traveling in Europe, news was provided by reading the International Herald Tribune. Today it is, perhaps, less so. When I am in Europe these days I tune in to CNN or the BBC. Nevertheless today marks a historic day. Today the International Herald Tribune, after 126 years in print, starting as the Paris Herald merges with the Global Edition of the New York Times to become the International New York Times. This is, however, only the latest incarnation of what remains an important force in the news world but ultimately has an uncertain future.
My interest was piqued yesterday by a story by Serge Schemann in the New York Times about this transition. What caught my eye was not so much the story as an embedded slide show of historic photographs featuring the Herald. These are: Attilio Codognato’s photograph of Andy Warhol reading the Tribune in a Venetian Café in 1977, Raymond Cauchetier’s image of Jean Seberg in Jean Luc Godard’s film “Breatless,” Romanian Soldiers reading the December 25, 1989 edition of the Tribune announcing the fall of the Ceausescu government, and Martin Luther King reading the Tribune during a break at the 1964 Nobel Prize awards in Oslo.
Mr. Schemann sums up the transformation of the International Tribune with “The DNA of a great paper is defined by evolution of the complex and intimate interplay of reader and editor, owner and technology.” This seems to me to be true of the story of modern photography as well.
Brooklyn’s Grand Army Plaza
When I was in college, Brooklyn, NY was seriously on the wane. It was the Brooklyn of Thomas Wolfe’s short story, “Only the Dead Know Brooklyn,” a place obscure, whose time seemed past, yet was full of a kind of vibrancy that was reflected best in its ethnicity. I remember thinking however, about all the past glory that was so evident in its parks, public edifices, and brownstones. And I would palpably wish that somehow time could be reversed and Brooklyn restored to its former glory. Well, today in a sense time has been reversed. It’s wonderful to find this somewhere other than in physics. Brooklyn has undergone and is continuing to undergo a wonderful metamorphosis. The fact raises, even in the most cynical, one’s recognition of the important point that cities are meant to be lived in, and that it is not, a priori, a fact that they should be unmanageable. The Brooklyn of today is an exciting amalgam, which is really what it was meant to be.
My only regret, and I suspect that this is a minority opinion is that the Barclay’s Center never achieved the grand schemes that Frank Gehry originally envisioned for it. I find that a major disappointment. If in search of grandeur one has to return to the old magnificent Brooklyn. Happily it is still there, with new life breathed into it.
And as always, the epicenter of all of this has to be The Grand Army Plaza. For photographers it has to be a Mecca. The term Grand Army can mean only one thing and this is emblazened on the top of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ triumphal arch beneath Frederick MacMonnies Quadriga: “Defenders of the Union 1861-1865.” The Quadriga depicts the lady Columbia, an allegorical representation of the United States, riding in a chariot drawn by two horses, while two winged Victory figures, each leading a horse, trumpets Columbia’s arrival. Just marvelous!
The Grand Army Plaza is the dramatic main entrance to Olmstead and Vaux’s Prospect Park. The Plaza consists very dramatically, albeit somewhat at the pedestrian’s peril (particularly one whose mind strays away from traffic to the perfect photograph), of concentric oval rings arranged as streets. The outer ring is Plaza Street. The inner ring was originally meant intended to be a circle is in fact Brooklyn’s major thoroughfare Flatbush Avenue. It connects radially eight roads: Vanderbilt Avenue; Butler Place; Saint John’s Place (twice); Lincoln Place; Eastern Parkway; Prospect Park West; Union Street; and Berkeley Place.
In addition to the Plaza and the Park are three of Brooklyn’s most impressive landmarks: The Brooklyn Botanic Garden, The main branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, and Brooklyn Museum. I think quite literally that I could spend many months photographing within a half mile of the Plaza. Needless-to-say one’s photographic wanderings are personal and a bit quirky. For me the goal is not to document the architecture but to photograph what the light strikes on a given day and therefore grabs your fancy.
For me the first focus is always philanthropist Frank Bailey’s (1865-1953) fabulous Neptune Fountain. It was built in 1932, a collaboration between by architect Edgerton Swarthout and sculptor Eugene Savage. The fountain, a dramatic sculptural waterwork includes central bronze sculptures of male and female figures atop the prow of a ship. These represent Wisdom and Felicity and are surrounded by Neptune himself, his attendant Triton, and a boy holding a cornucopia. To me personally the only material that compares to bronze in being photogenic is marble. And here you have the magic of bronze combined with water. What I really need to do is visit this fountain at different times of day to get different illuminations. Figure 2, an image of Neptune I have posted before and is one of my favorites. Figure 3 I took last weekend of Wisdom, Felicity, and the boy with the cornucopia. My only problem is that I would have preferred to get a face on image, but the lighting wasn’t right.
Poking further around the Plaza, I was very much taken by the snake garden planters that adorn the entrance of the park. One of them is shown in Figure 4. From there I climbed the library steps and photographed the art deco main entrance of the library (desisigned by sculptors Thomas Hudson Jones and Carl P. Jennewein. Take note: The bronze screen above the entrance features beloved characters from American literature.. Figure 5 catches a bit of the famous door with its golden literary figures. The ones shown in my picture top to bottoms are: Meg (from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott), White Fang (from the novel by Jack London), Natty Bumppo (from James Fenimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking Tales), The Raven (from the poem by Edgar Allan Poe), and Richard Henry Dana, Jr. (author and narrator of Two Years Before the Mast).
The Grand Army Plaza, Prospect Park, and the surrounding neighborhoods are fertile grounds for photographic discovery. And what you discover, I believe is an important connect or link between three Brooklyns: the Brooklyn of the gilded age, the Brooklyn of the art deco period, and the vibrant hipster-ethnic Brooklyn of today. Maybe Thomas Wolfe put it best, and maybe he had us photographers in mind when he said:
“Dere’s no guy livin’ dat knows Brooklyn t’roo an’ t’roo, because it’d take a guy a lifetime just to find his way aroun’ duh goddam town.”
Baby elephant in utero
Well, I’m not sure whether this violates my no cute cuddly baby animal rule or not, but I was struck today by an image from the Oklahoma City Zoo showing a baby elephant in utero. This is, of course, an ultrasound image taken of an eighteen year old female elephant Asha at the Zoo. Zoo officials announced on Tuesday, October 8 that Asha is with calf. She is seven months pregnant which means, given the elephant’s gestational period of pachyderms, that she isn’t due until December of 2014.
There are a number of important points to be made here. First, is that sound waves can be used to produce images just like light waves, and the laws of physics regarding resolution etc. are pretty much the same. You may ask whether this is really a photograph. I would argue that it is. The wonder of all of the amazing medical imaging modalities (CT, PET, MRI, ultrasound etc.) is that they enable us to see the previously unseen and like a good photograph they make us wonder, to think about, and to see in new ways. Right now I am marveling that I never thought that I would see a photograph of an unborn baby elephant, whose trunk is clearly visible.
Rogan Brown – paper sculptures
A while back I discussed the magical worlds in toilet paper rolls of French artists Anastassia Elias. I find paper sculpture art very appealing. There is tremendous delicacy about it. It also opens up an infinity of possibilities for tone-on-tone photography, particularly white tones on white tones.
Tone-on-tone is, to me, a very intriguing form of photography. You’ve got to very carefully choose the tonal range. It is way too easy to “equalize the histogram,” setting the darkest tone to black and the lightest tone to white. When you do that you can lose the very essence of the tone-on-tone.
With all these reasons in mind, I was delighted last night to discover the wonderful laser cut paper sculptures of British/Irish artist Rogan Brown. Brown finds inspiration in nature and inspiration, in part, from the great tradition of scientific drawing and model making, from such artist-scientists as Ernst Haeckel. The natural inspiration spans from the microcosm of biology to the macrocosm of geology: a zygote, a seed pod, the ocean, or a mountain range.
I love the sculptures. Many of the tone-on-tone photographs, to my taste, could use a bit of work. They seem to follow, for the most part, a simple side lighting approach, and I think that there is room to explore greater drama with more complex light set ups.
Art is inevitably a matter of vision, and Brown’s vision is superb. It is far from merely copying nature like a draughtsman. It is the difference being merely seeing and truly seeing. Brown quotes William Blake, and I think the point apropos of all that we discuss here, and of all the photographs taken for arts sake.
“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity…and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the eyes of a man of Imagination, Nature is Imagination itself.”
William Blake, Letter to Revd. Dr. Trusler (1799)
On a wing and a prayer
If you have ever tried to photograph a bee on a flower in crystal clarity and sharpness, you will definitely appreciate this wonderful macrophotograph by showing a lady bug hitching a ride and sailing through the air on a dandelion seed. It truly brings to life the phrase “on a wing and a prayer.” This image is really quite amazing and was taken by nineteen year old polish photographer Jagoda Cholacinska. She spotted it in a poppy field near her home. Jagoda said, that “I was walking in a poppy field when I noticed a ladybird imitating a witch on the pollen of a dandelion.”
I am going to think about this picture every time I take a tricky macroshot only to come home and conclude that it is out of focus or not entirely in focus. Maybe it is truly magic!
Hydrangeas
I know that this is going to shock the more ardent gardeners among my readers but there are two wonderful aspects to autumn. The first is the magical colors and light for photography, and the second is that it is time to let one’s garden go to seed. After a season of feeding my “Endless Summer” hydrangeas aluminum sulfate to keep them blue, I am delighting in the way that the early and warm October light is catching the subtle pink and green tones of hydrangea gardens.
Last weekend we visited the farmer’s market at the Grand Army Plaza in Brooklyn, NY. The weather and the late morning light were, well picture perfect and I had a great time photographing vegetables, plants, and of course statues. One stall was selling dried hydrangeas, hung upside down and glistening in the sun. It was a very fitting end to summer and raised the point that, while autumn is color, not all of it has to be brash and dramatic. Here the all magic is in the subtle pastels.