Snapper figured if he bought the best he’d be the best. So he made the call and ordered himself one of the finest digital single lens reflex cameras money could buy. This puppy came with 24.5 megapixel full-frame capability, a magnesium body shell, a carbon fiber composite shutter, a 922,000 pixel LCD monitor, and it could shoot 7 frames per second.
Snapper was elated. In just a few months National Geographic would be asking him to do assignments—he just knew it. The $8,000 he’d just charged on his VISA was investment, he told himself.
The next day FedEx delivered the camera. Snapper tore into the package. He couldn’t wait to begin using this gem. Nonetheless he took some time to study the manual. It seemed to address every conceivable function and contingency. “For sure, this baby has a ton of buttons and menus.” He thought.
After taking some get-acquainted shots Snapper was anxious to do some serious picturing. But this was Monday, it was late, cold and raining outside, and he was tired. He’d wait for the weekend when he’d have more time. Over the next few days he continued to familiarize himself with the camera’s menus, sub menus, buttons, functions, and combinations.
Saturday came and Snapper was ready to roll. But what would he photograph? What should he photograph? Where? Why? He hadn’t really thought much about these questions until now and it occurred to him that they were not easy to answer. Feeling a tinge of buyer’s remorse, Snapper thought, “I just bought a camera that can photograph nearly anything, under almost any circumstance and I don’t know what I want to do with it.”
“Maybe I missed something in the manual, maybe I can get some ideas there,” he thought. He pulled the plump booklet from his camera bag and began flipping the pages—all techs and specs—nothing about what to photograph, why or when. So he spent the next few hours wandering around his neighborhood shooting pictures of this and that—nothing in particular.
He got bored and decided to stop at the Supreme Bean for coffee. There he noticed a poster for an exhibition currently on view at the University Art Museum. It featured the work of some photographer named Henri Cartier Bresson. Snapper decided to go, hoping to pick up some pointers.
The exhibit was a revelation for Snapper. From one of the wall labels he learned about something Bresson had called the decisive moment. “What was that all about?” Snapper wondered. Did his new camera have a decisive moment function on one of its menus? He’d have to find it. On another label he read that, Bresson had made his pictures using a completely manual camera—something called a Leica. It had no auto focus, auto exposure or zoom lens. The label also said Bresson rarely used flash. Snapper was dumbfounded. “How could Bresson make such stunning photographs using such simple technology?” he wondered.
Snapper resolved to find the answers. He rushed home and pulled his new camera from its bag. He turned it on and systematically punched up every menu item for review in the LCD viewer on the back of the camera. He searched and searched but he could not find the decisive moment option nor could he find menu selections, dials or buttons for:
· Inspiration
· Beauty
· Meaning
· Passion
· Creativity
· Observation
· Awareness
· Appropriateness
· Good taste
· Cliché avoidance
· Good composition
· Preparation
· Readiness
· Imagination
Snapper was disappointed. The advertising had promised him that the technology built into his new camera would assure great photographs with every click of the shutter. But after seeing Bresson’s work it sure seemed like there was a lot more to photography than just the camera. Apparently greatness as a photographer, even basic competence, did not come easy.
Snapper sulked for a few days until he had an epiphany. He would not have to spend years and years learning the art of photography as did Bresson, Evans, Weston, Avedon, Mapplethorpe or Leibovitz. He would not have to study the history of photography, art and design. There was no need to pull himself out of bed at 3:00 a.m so he could get to the right location to capture the perfect pre dawn light. Every effect, every correction, every addition or subtraction, could be done with Photoshop. In fact with Photoshop Snapper knew he could create an endless variety of pictures from just a few. How hard could it be—clicking a mouse and applying filters? So Snapper made another call and ordered the latest version.
© Michael Maurer Smith 2009
Pretty darned brilliant post. Alas, as you know, even PShop won’t help the uninspired, for if one can’t find inspiration in a graceful tulip, a sleeping cat, the sun streaming through the window leaving a blaze of light on a wall or in the woeful face of a child who dropped her ice cream cone, they’ll not be able to make it sing on the ‘puter.
You nailed the beauty of photography. Yes, a good camera can do wonders and certainly make a photo better (or worse if it’s not so hot). But without the other things on Snapper’s list, it’s another view of the lake on a sunny day, with no warmth, no heart.
There’s a saying I don’t always like but sort of do (how’s that for bad writing!) — I’d rather be lucky than good. Actually, I’d rather be both! But I have to say my best work hasn’t come from knowing all the f-stops or special settings. It has come from being in the right place at the right time (when the light on the Shaker Cat was just perfect, the dew still fresh). It comes from seeing.
And this post was well said! (Speaking of H Cartier-Bresson, a card will be arriving at your house for Ms. Kate — take a look at the photo — it’s by him!)
Mike, you told me I’d enjoy this, but I dawdled and dallied and didn’t get here until just now.
I more than enjoyed it. It is so absolutely true that it’s inspirational, and obviously born of experience and reflection.
It’s also so rich, so multi-layered, that I could go in a half-dozen directions with it. Once again I’ve noticed the parallels between photography and writing. I’m beginning to think the creative process is the constant, and the various arts simply different ways to embody the process itself.
As for Snapper, I’ve seen him lurking about in literary circles as well, making a career of writer’s block and moaning because his Muse won’t bring inspiration to his doorstep. There has been a person or two I’ve wanted to shake and say, “Open your eyes! Pay attention to what’s going on around you!” The world is full of things to photograph and write about, but someone needs to be attentive enough to see them.
As for the “decisive moment” ~ when I followed the link and found Bresson’s statement that photography is not a painting, what else could I think of but…. Photoshop layers. Thinking about my own learning process as a writer, it’s quite clear that my “decisive moment” often is that moment when the title of a piece surfaces. They often arise fully-formed, and then the writing is a matter of capturing the impulse they represent. My current post, “Taught by a Heron’s Heart” happened exactly like that. I have a few others waiting to be fleshed out – simple phrases like “watching the bright moon rise” that are like little gifts waiting to be unwrapped.
And for my last morning smile – I just noticed the name of the theme you chose for your blog. Cutline. Nice!
Linda, I’m so glad you liked this piece. I’ve come to look forward to your very thoughtful comments.
Cutline is indeed an apt name for the theme, although I chose it because Chris Pearson, who developed the theme, had made it so convenient to use and adapt.
I fully agree with your point about the creative process being a constant. A book you might find interesting is “A Life in the Arts” by Eric Maisel, Ph.D..
Its subtitle reads, “Practical Guidance and Inspiration for Creative and Performing Artists.” This is a book I go back to frequently and always find something new. Mr. Maisel is a psychotherapist who specializes in working with artists and performers. He has written several books of this kind. I am always suspicious of authors who write several books in the same genre, nonetheless, I found this particular book to be very helpful.
Two other books you may find worthwhile would be Henri Cartier’s book, “The Mind’s Eye,” and “Time Pieces,” a collection of essays by the writer and photographer Wright Morris. Morris in particular has much to say about the relationship between the written word and the photographic image. He won the National Book Award for fiction in 1956 for “The Field of Vision.” It is also interesting to note that after the 1970s Bresson, largely abandoned photography and returned to drawing.
I find that most artists of accomplishment (here meaning the quality and depth of their work, not public recognition) are typically capable in more than one medium. They are observant, imaginative, thoughtful, engaged, independent, discriminating, well-informed and skilled. Moreover, the computer age has eliminated the boundaries. Photoshop for example, invites the eye, mind and skill of the writer, photographer, painter, and illustrator. What remains constant is that need for creative vision, intelligence and meaning.
Finally, my piece on Snapper grew from a conversation I overheard in a coffee shop near the Michigan State Capitol. It was between two staff photographers who work for either the house or senate. They were excitedly extolling the technical virtues of various cameras and lens and exchanging anecdotes about photographing this or that government official. I was struck by their exclusive emphasis on technique, method and equipment. Not once did I hear them mention anything connected to beauty, meaning or creativity.
loved the story….but now tell me which zoom lens to buy….pleaaaassse !!!!
{by the way, jeanie sent me}
Beth: Glad you liked the story. Please visit again and often.
As to your question about the zoom lens I am reminded of this quote “the best zoom lens is your legs.” I don’t recall which photographer said it but I think it was either Ernst Haas or Harry Callahan. ( addendum: I checked and it was Ernst Haas.)
Pens and Pics ~ A Cautionary Tale « The Task at Hand // Apr 3, 2009 at 12:55 pm
[...] Michael Maurer Smith, who tells the story of Snapper’s Disappointment in his blog, Dissent Decree. As Michael tells [...]
Hello!
I came here through Linda’s current post because she made me curious to read “Snapper’s “complete, sorry tale. Poor guy. Thank you for his story, and for telling it so well.
I am glad to hear you enjoyed it. Please visit again and often.