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«acid drops II»
It has been bugging me for a while, that there has to be much more than blurring in the lens. While I have liked the results with Gehry's Walt Disney Concert Hall, and other applications of such a technique, it also opened up for something to continue. Frank Gehry's recent buildings are perhaps the easiest to learn how to tame the "blurred in the lens" approach that does not involve a consistent "focused at twice infinity" concept for emphasizing the form, as pursued by Hiroshi Sugimoto.
The blurring to obtain the lines is the first step in this approach I take. The second one is to dodge and burn (locally) to enhance the shapes. In a way, it is un-blurring some detail but still in the form of a shape. This may be best exemplified with the photos of the Flat Iron building, where I burned and dodged to bring out the silhouettes from the windows.
Aside from this emphasis, there was something else that the technique could bring, especially in the Frank Gehry case. The smoothness of the segments was crying out for some texture, but noise was too much of cliché, and not really apt. The gradients in light caused by his non-flat surfaces (and photographed late in the day), would serve another purpose. The Flat Iron building still gives a sense of scale, but the Gehry photos do not: this is when it struck me that an overlay of another image would be something to try.
At first, it was a way to enhance the Gehry image with some subtle detail from another scale, as in a close or macro image, rich in detail and texture. As I worked on the image above, I realized that it was forcing me to look at it more as a symbiosis. That is, the Gehry abstract gained from the texture offered by the rusty-iron abstract, and the rusty-iron abstract gained from the light gradients to be painted differently than the natural rusty red. Furthermore, the light shapes from the Gehry image made brings a sense of mutual harmony to both.
An appeal of this technique, in having practiced with an entirely different image, «Paris and Rome» that has both images with much detail, is that it is not a script: each image must be processed individually, with an abstract/imaginative idea guiding what it is done. In any exploration, I am worried of coming to a technique that involves some (clever) button being pushed, as it almost feels with blurring in the lens.
«tinseltown in the rain»
In a strange way, inspired by Blade Runner, I have begun to wander downtown Los Angeles a bit more. After all, it is rather convenient to step out of the apartment and just walk. I know that there is a gentrification of downtown in the works, and I am part of it, that will change this decaying area in ways that can be hard to anticipate, but there is already hints about what will happen.
However, the main point here is that of attachment. So far, in my photography, there is an idea of looking where people usually do not. There is a post-photo idea of expressing some emotion about the (usually) atypical subject matter or angle, and that is just layers of what I want to express. In other words, the photo becomes an abstraction of something that people may not often care to look at, or even photograph -- at least I have the «Old San Juan» series, or the «Dying Beach» series in mind. This abstraction moves the image into my imagination and there is no emotional attachment to the subject, as in influencing where I go and what I photograph. I just wander around and see something.
This is not the case with downtown Los Angeles. The contrast is just too high in this area of the city. There is the Gehry Building and the ensuing series «Sketches of Gehry», which fits into the mold of the detachment expressed. However, the historic downtown has a more emotional connection, and as such, it is more problematic. The issues that arise so far with portraits are creeping into photographing this area. It is a bit like the doctor becoming involved with the patient, and that is going to affect treatment. In that sense, the same is happening here, whereas in the past locating "good texture" meant a number of takes with multiple angles, lenses, etc. goes ignored here. Not only that, I am venturing more into street photography, though no results to show yet. Also, I am walking around with an older camera and a prime lens (50mm), which is a different animal to me at this point. This focal lens (80mm equivalent in the digital camera), makes some shots rather difficult to take because to the narrowness of alleys or streets.
Although I will not be able to walk downtown next weekend, I am already anticipating doing more of it in the subsequent weekends. Knowing that I will not be here for the completion of the "makeover" seems to make it more interesting to capture what I can at this point, and try to either embrace or divorce the doctor-patience relationship.
«lust for life»
I still find studio-like work to be very difficult. Never mind that the lighting is one of the toughest aspect of it, and it is not for a lack of imagination; to my standards. I do not feel uncomfortable in coming up with ideas, but in the case of portraits, I think I am at a loss with giving directions.
Perhaps I am starting to believe, and be affected, by the notion that "photographic rules" are more applicable in studio work than in reporting what already exists. In photographing a building, the gain is in looking at it from an unusual perspective. Somehow, I just feel agile and a rather facile task to tackle. Unfortunately, this does not happen when I must configure the elements to achieve what is in my mind. Also, I need to find a way where I can "break the rules" with studio work, in the same way that I do with "fixtures," for lack of a better word.
This image was in my head for quite some time. The elements were there, even if the poem's stanza was not chosen. Actually, I had in mind one of many Pablo Neruda love poems, some of which I have translated myself -- this is a very hard thing to do. However, I like extemporaneous ideas, or a bit of chaos, in putting things together or when I do something. That there is a plan to every detail is rather boring.
Here, the idea then evolved from a poem about lust for essence. In the compendium Five Decades: Poems 1925-1970 by Pablo Neruda, the poem «Verbos» (page 344) sits between two poems about the end of life. This struck me, as indeed, they were written (1968) towards the end of his life (d. 1973). It is quite a contrast that this poem is purely about words, rather than the emotions that he which he is so well-known. This make me think that using a reddish-brown ink would be the proper colour. As luck would have it, I could add an element of contrast by using the similarly coloured book by Irving Stone, but with the title «Lust for Life». That is it is a novel about another art-exponent (Vincent Van Gogh) is a delicious irony.
I had an adrenaline rush about the all of these elements coming together. However, I thought that typical rules of photography would destroy how I wanted this elements to interplay. I would suspect that the rules would dictate that the book be bright enough to discern the title, that the words be nice and sharp, and perhaps in a very nice font (i.e., readable), and the romantic lighting typical of these shots would be the wrong way to go. I still do not like that photographs should express everything intended in an image.
So, the approach was instead to make the pen very sharp. It is elegant and not much left to the imagination, but the words, they had to blur, and if a bit difficult to decipher -- people can always look up the poem in its entirety. The book was more about the form and colour, and I fel that I did not have to reveal it that much. Certainly at a good image size -- not available on the web size -- would reveal enough. However, making it brighter breaks with the "rhythm" of information as one moves from left to right: the pen is sharp and well-lit, and the words beging to blur, so the book had not only to blur but to also be darker.
In the end, the whole idea is that words are a nice mantra for photography. Not only a lust for life about it, but to want to grasp intangibles, that perhaps fall outside so many rules that make it easy to criticize.
«your silent face»
From a link provided by The Online Photographer:
Finally, the Zielskes have prompted relatively little scandal because most artists think it's impossible to plagiarize a photograph simply by showing up at the same place at the same time of day.
In a previous entry ("confinement"), I posit the hypothetical of what would happen if order is strictly adhered in photography. Another perspective on this is explored in Slate's article "Can Photographers be Plagiarists?" The article is in the form of a slide show to demonstrate both perspectives about inspiration versus copying. The genesis of the article is a recent controversy between the father/son team of Horst and Daniel Zielske versus Peter Bialobrzeski over photographs shot from the same vantage point.
As far as my point of view goes, with so much order/discipline to the technique, the first one to find a vantage point should get the credit, as I would suspect is normally the case. However, for Mr. Bialobrzeski to cry foul, well, that is going a bit far. It is sufficient to point out that he was there first with shot, and not try to sue, or stop an exhibit. Still, I think that if the Zielske made contact with Bialobrzeski prior to their photographs, that reference to that consultation should have been made public, just like a reference just like in published journal articles.
Above, is my feeble attempt at plagiarizing Hisroshi Sugimoto, even if the awareness was after the fact.
«woman on Calle Del Sol (v2)»
I seem to be meandering with many topics initiated in these entries, but they have been in my head, without outlet, for so long. In addition to this dam of questions, there is the little reminders that will come up in daily interactions over at flickr.
I was recently added by someone that seems to blog a lot of images, has some good images of his own -- if not with a very narrowed interest -- that he liked my images and wanted me to participate in his pool (named after himself, as these vanity pools seem to be spreading quite fast). I did join, and notice that one had to vote by plastering some icon of his design for images to stay in the pool, or whatever. I observed and left, and also removed him from my contacts, because after a while, I notice the pattern (no pun intended on his graphical images) of his talent, and there is no much more to entice me: the idea of photography for my appreciation is for my imagination to wander, and sometimes, wonder.
These actions were met with a lengthy (form) email about not joining/leaving. I responded kindly that I am not interested in competitions of the kind, and it got me thinking whether other art forms have such a competitive streak. I thought of paintings, and there could be something of a competition about students learning, and certainly there was a famous one that gave us the beginning of the impressionist movement. It seems that the impressionists were not obeying rules that made the judgement a bit harder, and so they were not admitted (to summarize rather crudely).
I also thought of dog competitions. Aside from watching, and enjoying, the movie Best in Show I have only caught a glimpse of it on TV. However, it has intrigued me how among such different kinds of dogs in every aspect, one is chosen. How can there be an objective way to judge a dog across breeds? I will remain ignorant. However, I think this has a good parallel to photo competitions -- by jury or by popular vote: how is blurry photo compared to a "decisive moment" compared to an architecture photo compared to a heavily manipulated photo?
The fascinating part is not how to judge a photo competition, but why is it such a popular thing to do in photography? Is it because the gearheads dominate such a push, and since the camera can be used to demonstrate technical prowess, then contests can be held often? (to increase the odds of getting a ribbon to list with the gear.) Is this mainly a U.S. phenomenon? (Where competition and forget-who-came-in-second is so prominent.) I think the meaning of winning a competition has no significance in absolute terms, and the relative value may not be assessed except by those attending the contest: so what is the point to others? If I am going to list a ribbon for a won competition, why give the competition the publicity? I can just as well (in the same web space) show a photo -- this gives more information to the viewer.
I will admit that I enter one competition in a flickr pool. The photos are posted to a discussion topic and the top three go into the pool. The photos can be re-entered at another time. However, this is one approach for to me gauge how people view photos because it is a popular vote, so I do not see it as the idea of entering a competition, and all the aspects of it that I dislike.
It will be the case that I shall never enter a contest, actually, I am even having a hard time envisioning printing my photos, except for friends and relatives. I like to think of a way that the web can be used to better have people be happy to have just a digital copy of it, but then again, I am digging into another topic for the future.
The image posted, to me, signifies the best example of why not to enter a contest. Some people get the image, but I will always feel that what I see in this image is so far from what others will see, more so the strict-technical kind, that it would be such a disillusionment to enter a contest. This is the dichotomy of a contest: If I exhibit an image, I am intrigued by how a person can view the image and celebrate the confluence of differences, while in a competition, that difference is a futile collision of two opinions. How does the latter further any artistic purpose?
