share and enjoy, aka two great tastes that taste great together

(Edwin Scherr and me onstage at the Acadia Cafe, 4 Sept 2007)

Last night, the nameless improv trio I’m in (with drummer Ryan Lovan and bassist Edwin Scherr) played a gig at the Acadia Cafe in Minneapolis, as part of the ongoing improvisation series there.  I brought my camera along and photographed the other two groups that were playing, but couldn’t photograph while WE were playing, of course.  A friend of Ryan’s who knew his way around a camera agreed to shoot the show for us.  Although the camera itself was unfamiliar to him, he understood aperture priority and manual focus from using 35mm, so I handed him the camera in aperture priority mode (Nikon D40, 50mm f/1.8 manual-only lens) and hoped for the best.

Being unfamiliar with stage photography, he soon learned the pain joys of trying to focus correctly and limit blur with low stage lighting.  But this inspired him to experiments that I wouldn’t conduct myself, using very slow shutter speeds and panning the camera.  I really liked the results, as you can see here.  I wish I could remember his name to give him proper credit!

Remain in Light

Photographs are a way of capturing light.  Good photographs are often due in part to good lighting.  Conversely, poor lighting can undermine or even ruin an otherwise good photo. Now, I’ve developed a reputation as a pretty good photographer among friends and co-workers.  Unfortunately, they think this means I can just take pictures whenever/wherever I want and get good results.

The “wherever” generally includes places like windowless interior rooms lit only by cheap flourescent tubes, bright sunlight, randomly changing stage lighting, and other extremely difficult conditions.  In such a situation, lighting is often the enemy. Color casts, too much contrast, not enough contrast, not enough light period, and other difficulties can make it difficult to capture good images. It’s hard to make things look good when the light makes them look bad. Worse, cameras see things (like color casts) that our eyes and brain ignore.

At a recent wedding, I got a number of nicely lit images in dappled shade, despite a harsh afternoon sun.  Some people were surprised I was using flash outdoors, especially when I’m notorious for not using flash at all (fill flash is your friend!).  But worst of all, I saw a couple bring their children out of the shade and into the nice, bright sunlight to get photos with their little point and shoot.  I considered telling them that they should do that in the shade, but just felt too embarrassed by the whole thing.  I don’t know whether I did the right thing or not, but I think it’s safe to say that they did NOT get the best possible photos of their children.

Later, at the same wedding, I took a photo I rather liked of three men together.  They were relaxed, laughing, and blissfully unaware they were about to get photographed.  The photo is charming and marred with severe technical problems (including a sensor reflection from a bright window in the background). They didn’t like it, and then asked me to take another, dutifully posing in the stiff, self-conscious way that people get when they’re about to get their picture taken.  I didn’t like those photos at all.

I suppose the problem here is social rather than technical.  How does one explain, with a minimum of awkwardness all around, how to take good photos?  How do we tell other photographers what to do, or tell people who want photos taken that their ideas won’t look good?

choosing the subject

Sometimes, the best subject for a photograph isn’t necessarily the focus of attention at the moment.  Last weekend, I attended a wedding.  When the adorable flower girl walked down the aisle, all eyes turned her way. Rather than trying to photograph her directly, I photographed the bridesmaids’ reactions to her…

The photo has some technical problems (lens flare, poor framing, excessively shallow focus), but it does capture the feeling of the bridesmaids, and everyone else, admiring the little girl.

looks

I recently saw The Bourne Ultimatum, and was inspired by its brilliant cinematography.  I don’t think there’s a single steadycam shot in the entire film… it’s all handheld cameras, shallow focus, grainy and shaky.  I realized that I try to capture a very similar look with still photography.  Unfortunately, much of that sense of life and motion in the film comes from being a moving picture… it’s difficult to duplicate that effect with stills.

But I try.

missed opportunities

Last night, I went to the Minnesota State Fair.  This would have been an excellent opportunity for some street photography.  But I was taking my son and his friend to see a Weird Al Yankovic concert, and didn’t think I’d be allowed to bring a DSLR inside. 

If I’d been thinking, though, I could have brought my little Fuji F20 camera along and slipped it into a pocket – maybe not useful for capturing the concert (not that my short DSLR lenses would be any better), but good for capturing the sights and people of the Fair.  I should probably figure out where the heck I put that little camera…

The simple fact is, if you don’t have a camera with you, you can’t take a picture when the inspiration comes along. On the other hand, I didn’t see anything that made me think, “Wow, I wish I had a camera right now!”  Would I have looked at the Fair more critically, with more awareness, if I’d brought a camera along?  Or was the lack of a camera actually liberating, freeing me from the distraction of looking for a photo to take?

In the end, I did take a few pictures of the fireworks with my cell phone, but I didn’t really feel moved when taking them, and the results don’t move me either. I shouldn’t take photos just because I feel I should take photos. That way lies junk.

street photography, voyeurism, and walls

While idly surfing about the ‘net, I ran across a conversation about whether to use a Nikon 85mm or a 80-200mm zoom for “street photography”.  Many users argued for the long zoom, a position I find more than a little disturbing.  I have a number of problems with it.

First, I am somewhat of a traditionalist.  To me, “street photography” means something in the style of Henri Cartier-Bresson – not so much the subject matter as the sense of intimacy and immediacy. Cartier-Bresson used a Leica with a 50mm lens (still the classic “street photography” rig), which has implications. First, it meant he had to get in close to his subjects to capture detail and motion. Second, he captured a lot of the surroundings as well as the people – and the surroundings provided context, and often meaning to his photos.

Long lenses like the 85mm (127mm equivalent on a modern Nikon DSLR) and the really long zooms have two effects – first, they isolate the subject from its surroundings.  Second, they allow (even require) the photographer to shoot from longer distances.  The first effect is a largely aesthetic problem for me – for “street photography”, I want to see context.  Without context, it’s just portraiture.

The second effect is where I start feeling really uncomfortable. Long lenses give the photographer the opportunity to take photos without the subject being aware, or having a chance to be aware, or even having a chance to interact with the photographer if notice is taken.  This crosses into voyeurism.  It’s an intrusion, and related to theft.  This also ties into the isolation of the subject from the environmental context, and frankly, the subject itself – far too many long-lens “street” photographers are just snapping photos of pretty girls.  The physical beauty alone provides the meaning as well as the subject.

Of course, Cartier-Bresson was a furtive, secretive photographer as well.  If permission and intrusion is the question, we won’t get a good answer from the father of the style.  But I think this leads to another issue I have – the wall.  When taking photographs, the camera acts as a wall between the photographer and the subject.  A small camera such as a Leica is a small wall.  But a big cannon-sized lens like an 80-200mm zoom is a BIG wall.  I think this has psychological relevance for both the subject and the photographer.

Additionally, a really large camera/lens combination starts to dominate the photographer’s senses. It’s heavy and bulky and needy. It gets in the way of involvement with the surroundings, with people and things.  A small camera can hang unobtrusively, or even be pocketed, allowing the photographer to participate fully in the scene being photographed.

It’s hard for me to say where I’m going with all this.  Ultimately, I think long, large lenses contribute to an unhealthy, uninvolved relationship between the photographer and the subject, and between the photographer and the world.  At worst, this can lead to morally questionable photographs. And politically, it also contributes to the sense of surveillance and the lack of privacy in our modern world.

Once again, I need to contemplate this idea more, and maybe revisit the subject in the future.