Mixed Signals © Michael Maurer Smith 2009
Brian’s father collected antique automobiles, many of which he restored in the combined workshop and garage behind his home. In those years, from Eisenhower through Ford, the Mill’s home received the same meticulous and loving care that Mr. Mills lavished on his cars.
On a recent visit to Owosso, Michigan, my hometown, I took a walk through the neighborhood where I lived as a boy. This took me past the old Mill’s home. Over the years I have lost track of Brian and know nothing of his parents fate. It was shocking to find that their once beautiful home now stood empty and apparently abandoned—its paint peeling, its foundations cracked and the yard choked with weeds and trash—most of the upper story windows broken out.
As I stood there looking and remembering, I noticed the old TV antenna on the roof. Once it pulled from the sky the signals of Walt Disney Presents, I Love Lucy, Art Linkletter, Father Knows Best, Perry Mason and Tales of the Texas Rangers. Now it lay on its side unused and forgotten. I thought this was a subject worthy of a couple of shots—nostalgia for the files. I pulled my camera from its bag and began framing photographs through the viewfinder.
After taking three or four shots, I noticed the contrail of a jet entering my field of vision. Again I raised the camera and peered into the viewfinder. The straight line being drawn across the sky, just above and behind the antenna, offered a counterpoint to the bare branches of the tree reaching down to the dead metal arms of the antenna beneath. The angles and deep shadows formed by the walls and roofline of the house completed the composition.
Years of practice had prepared me to quickly assess the formal elements of a photograph—lines, shapes, shadows and space––and compose. I did and I got the shot. Immediately I sensed there was more in this composition, something I could not yet articulate—an essence—a subject I would have to define upon reflection.
Later, as I inspected the photo on my computer screen, I searched for that essential subject. It proved elusive. Why had I made this picture and what was it really about? The more I looked at it the more subjects I discovered—subjects, not objects.
Once more I was reminded of what I long have known, that the subject of any photograph is dependent upon who is looking at it—it resides in the photographer’s choices and the viewer’s interpretation and not in the object(s) pictured.
This particular photograph may be interpreted as a formal composition or as a statement about the passage of time, change and renewal. Likewise, it can be seen as a commentary on the loss of the American Dream. Depending upon the viewer it is all of these, none, part of each, or something else.
It is instructive to trace the decision making process that resulted in this image.
1. I went to Owosso intending to photograph places of meaning to me and to discover what was left of my old neighborhood after nearly 50 years.
2. When I came to the old Mill’s house, I was surprised by its poor condition. When I saw the antenna on the roof I first thought of its potential as a file photo. Then I saw it in the context of a formal composition, as a shape, line, tone and form. I also wanted to make a picture that said something about the deterioration of the place.
3. When I saw the jet’s contrail I realized I could incorporate it into the composition I had been making. So I waited until it moved into the frame. At this point I was thinking of the contrail’s quality as a line and not about its meanings.
4. Later upon viewing the results I realized I had captured several suggestive elements in the final composition. The contrail emanating from the jet passing through the sky—this metal tube filled with living beings—going from one place to another in time, contrasts with the broken antenna, a relic of past times, values and technology. The living and budding branches of the tree suggest the cyclical nature of life, growing up from soil enriched by decay.
The subject of any photograph begins when the photographer decides where, when and at what to point the camera, however the photographer cannot read his or her own unconscious—cannot fully know what he or she has really seen and apprehended or why. Likewise, the viewer of the photograph will see it through their eye, intellect and unconscious mind. So one might liken the photograph to a child, that results from the choices and acts of its parents, but which goes on to build its own life and meaning—becoming the many subjects it can be.
© Michael Maurer Smith 2009
This is terrifically interesting. I’ve spent a good bit of time over the past week or so “manipulating” some images taken Memorial Day weekend. At the same time, I’ve been pondering the arguments I’ve run across between the “purists” and the “visual artists” – that is, between those who say you never should retouch any photo, any way, and those who say it’s all part of the artistic process.
I’ve come to my own conclusion, which I’ll write about in more detail once I gain a little more clarity. In the simplest terms, it seems to me that “manipulation” of an image doesn’t begin when someone opens up their photoshop program, it begins at the beginning, when someone (like you!) begins to make decisions about what will or won’t be in the viewfinder.
You “began framing photographs through the viewfinder”, and then “waited until (the contrail) moved into the frame.” In other words, you made decisions about what the final image would look like.
Even without photoshop, decisions continue to be made as processing begins. The little photo called “Daffodil Bridge” in my Monet post was a part of a general shot of the orchard. Once I cropped the group of flowers out of the larger photo, the “bridge” became obvious. Artistic decision? or manipulation?
I think my point is that we can’t have it both ways. If deciding to include a contrail or exclude a tree is an “artistic decision”, then cropping, framing and applying effects can be artistic decisions, too.
On the other hand, if choosing to apply special effects or transform an image with a computer program is “manipulation”, then choosing a subject, a vantage point, a condition of light, is also a manipulation of what the viewer will see in the final image.
Sometimes I approach things too simplistically, but it seems rather like putting a poet, an essayist and a biologist in front of a tree and then telling them to write about it. What emerges in each case would be somewhat different, but every writer would capture an aspect of the tree. Nothing hard about that!
Great, thought-provoking post. I’ll have to read this one a few times!
Linda, thanks for your thoughtful comments.
The core strength of photography is its believability—its verisimilitude. It is also its weakness.
I am still a member of the North American Nature Photographers, and for a time was a member of the National Press Photographers Association. As such I have heard most of the arguments about how far photographic “truth” may be stretched. What it comes down to is context and intent. A photojournalist, with ethics, will not alter, stage or otherwise contrive a photograph. However, that same photographer must and will decide what to photograph, from what vantage point, and the exact moment. Likewise, he or she will decide what focal length lens to use, what to focus upon, what to frame in the viewfinder (which is in-camera cropping) and what aperture setting and ISO to use. All of these decisions shape and shade the final image—in some degree is editorializing and self-expression as much as reporting. Photojournalism, in spite of what the purists may argue is in part a form of Art. That said there is considerable difference between deciding what makes a compelling and honest photograph, and faking it.
The late Galen Rowell, a highly respected nature photographer, made a distinction between the found, manipulated, contrived and staged image. There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these practices, except when the facts are not acknowledged.
It is perfectly acceptable for a nature photographer, to move (manipulate) a maple leaf from 3 feet away and place it on the rock in the foreground to make a more appealing composition. The elements were there naturally, and the leaf could have fallen on the rock in just that way. It is a deceit but unlike that of moving evidence in a crime scene photo. However, bringing a leaf from 3 miles away because there was no maple tree near the rock is contriving the scene. Building a set comprised of various natural elements—a rock, the leaf, some soil etc. is clearly staging the image. And adding the leaf later using Photoshop, and then presenting the composition, as if it were a photograph of the scene as it was actually found in nature is dishonest and unethical.
A photograph can be likened to a quote in writing. If the quote is from a fictional character in a piece of fiction, the writer has much creative and expressive latitude. However if that quote is in a documentary the author’s expressive latitude is severely limited.
Something else that crossed my mind today…
titles.
I’m putting together a new blog with several photos. Originally, all had titles. But, when I readied them for the blog, I eliminated the titles and was much happier.
This helped me to understand why:
“… the subject of any photograph is dependent upon who is looking at it—it resides in the photographer’s choices and the viewer’s interpretation and not in the object(s) pictured. ”
It seems as though to put a title on a photo is to invite the viewer to see it in a particular way – my way – rather than enter into that dialogue you’ve spoken of. Sometimes that’s fine, perhaps especially when photographs are used as illustrations. There’s nothing wrong with the titles on the photos in my Monet piece.
But if a photo is to be simply a photograph, an image, a bit of artistic vision – maybe better to just let it be what it is, without verbal interpretation? I think so.
I’ve got to come back to this when I have more time to really read it over carefully. But I’ll tell you what grabbed me the second I saw the photo — someone is going to wish they had that big tall antenna again, now that digital is here. Everything old is new again. Old tech, new tech. It’s all tangled up. Scan your converter box on Friday!
Jeanie: Good to hear from you. I’m looking forward to seeing your pictures from Paris. You have a great time. You deserve it.
Somehow the talk about nature photography, moving subjects found near each other for better composition has brought to mind the idea of Japenese Gardens and Bonsai.
Both highly respected forms of manipulating the “realities of nature” to depict itself in it’s most perfect and balanced form…in the eyes of the gardener or bonsai artist guilds and standards.
I guess it takes a comittee to decide what the truths are, and individuals to interpret them to their own understanding.
Nanette: Thanks for the comment. You make an interesting point. I enjoy garden photography and am aware of the artificiality of the garden, while at the same time appreciating the naturalness of it. In the end it is all about how the photo is intended to be used. Art photography allows great license. Photojournalism far less.
The Art of Re-Working Reality « The Task at Hand // Jul 11, 2009 at 7:55 am
[...] Michael Smith, member of the North American Nature Photographers and former member of the National Press Photographers Association, ponders these issues in a recent discussion on his fine blog, Dissent Decree. [...]