December 28, 2008.......................................................................HOME.......... ........................................................"Finding Your Balance"
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Technical Data
Camera: Nikon D3
Lens: Nikon 200-400 f/4
Capture: NEF
Metering: Matrix
Release Mode: Manual
ISO: 800
Shutter: 1/4000
Aperture: f5.6
Camera: Nikon D3
Lens: Nikon 200-400 f/4
Capture: NEF
Metering: Matrix
Release Mode: Manual
ISO: 800
Shutter: 1/4000
Aperture: f5.6
As you’ll recall from the last post, my experience shooting three weeks in Kenya back in November was significant, honing skills by continually repeating a process of capture and analysis. But standing shoulder to shoulder with a variety of shooters gave me an opportunity to make some observations, the basis of this post.
Now regarding balance, you might think, “Well, he was banging around in a Land Rover for three weeks in the bush. “Finding Your Balance” will be some useful tips on managing equipment in a moving vehicle without breaking your back or trashing an expensive lens. We could go there because those considerations on photo safari are real (as in my $1500 24-70 lens rolled of the seat on the first day and knocked out the zoom alignment because I hadn’t learned to be careful), but “Finding Your Balance” couldn’t be farther from those considerations.
To a non-photographer, becoming a photographer means learning how to use a camera: grappling with shutter speed, focal length, depth of field, ISO and a multitude of other technical quandaries. Since any of these can wreak havoc in the hands of the inexperienced, by no means do I belittle their mastery. It’s a crucial part of becoming a photographer, and a hurdle to be cleared by anyone serious about the medium. How long is spent clearing this hurdle is undefined. Some people become so enamored with this stage and the technical aspects of the equipment, they are content to remain here. Photo clubs around the world are wonderful outlets for like-minded individuals to gather and discuss the merits of this lens, that body or continue the debate over which digital file format represents the Holy Grail.
But in my search for photographic enlightenment, I’ve come to embrace the philosophy that to become a fine photographer, clearing the technical hurdle is only the beginning of everything important, not the attainment of mastery some would believe. Edward Weston said it eloquently…
“The photographer’s most important and likewise most difficult task is not learning to manage his camera, or to develop (learn Photoshop), or print. It is learning to see photographically, learning to see his subject matter in terms of the capacities of his tools and processes, so that he can instantaneously translate the elements and values in a scene before him into the photograph he wants to make.”
Learning to see photographically means building an inventory of mental images. At some point you begin to sense that for a given subject, interpreting it will require a specific combination of your equipment and a conscious choice of settings. This level of photographic maturation takes a real investment of time and energy, alluded to in the previous blog entry.
The final phase in achieving balance as a photographer occurs when you begin to comfortably clear these hurdles as you approach subject, camera in hand. You are able to craft pictures both of technical quality and reasonable interest, pairing subject and equipment with relative ease. It is what happens next, in my mind, that separates good photographers from great photographic artists. The artist, equipped with the ability to achieve almost anything he intends, can now commit his energy toward determining content. With technical considerations a “muscle memory” function, the lion’s share of his attention becomes choosing the unique moment the shutter will be opened. The result of this seemingly simple choice will profoundly affect the intentional content and message of the photograph. This is the moment where your objective eye must watch intently, while listening to your subjective heart. Both must speak simultaneously to the finger poised on the shutter button.
We’ve all seen examples of images made by good photographers working at each of these levels. Look to your local newspaper, and every day you will see properly exposed and focused images documenting events in your locale. Occasionally one of these photos will grab your attention and transcend documentation, stirring an emotional response. We tend to see more of these images as the caliber of the publication increases, more often in say, Sports Illustrated or National Geographic, where only the finest photographers are likely to be represented. The point is, when the image content is powerful, you feel the message the photographer intended, even if you can’t describe it in words or explain how the capture achieved this impact.
As we shot in Kenya, ongoing discussions in the vehicles almost always centered on the technical aspects of capture. Metering, ISO, and shutter speed were bread and butter topics. But I couldn’t help thinking to myself, “It’s not just about what shutter speed will freeze the action, it’s about the significance of the action you freeze!” Without defining in your own mind what you want to say with your photograph, you increase dramatically the likelihood that your intentional content will suffer. When you look at someone’s photo and say to yourself, “OK, so what?”, the photographer missed the mark. It can be sharp, exposed well, technically perfect, but if the content is lacking, a subjective failure. Ansel Adams spoke to this sort of photo, when he said, “There is nothing worse than a sharp photo of a fuzzy idea.” He refers to the photograph made by someone drawn to a subject but not understanding themselves what it is that interests them, and are therefore unable to craft the photograph that expresses their excitement. Such an image is virtually doomed, as it will never convey the intended message or emotion to the viewer who did not share the experience in person.
Once I was visiting a photographer in his home, where he was showing me his large format printers. He was a fine photographer and more advanced than I in technical skills. He went on at great length about the ramifications of ink set color gamut, light color temperature for viewing orints, paper profiles, equipment calibration, etc. His wife was also a photographer and was listening in the background without comment. As we wound down the evening in their living room, I naively asked the question, “With a finite amount of time available for my photographic work, am I better off mastering these technical skills or spending time improving my photographic vision?” The wife chuckled, and replied, “I think you’ve already answered your own question. It’s the quality of the content that drives the whole thing. Invest your energy there and your work will mean something. The rest will come as it needs to.” I began to understand what I imagine is the corollary to Ansel Adam’s comment, that even a fuzzy picture of a sharp idea can be a great photograph.
I’m not saying the basics are unimportant, they are. But building your photography on them alone is like building a house of cards. To make images that move people, that matter, you must immerse yourself in crafting content. The sooner in your photo journey you begin investing in this aspect of your work, the sooner you will find your photographic balance.
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Mark Alberhasky is a Nikon Mentor for the Mentor Series Worldwide Photo Treks.
Join him as he travels and share his enthusiasm for photography and learning.
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