Suppose, however, that the subject is fog. How do you photograph fog, and how do you convey the mood of a foggy day? One way, perhaps, would be to find a group of trees or other objects receding into the fog. None of the trees would stand out as the center of interest, and in fact, no single tree would be especially important (except in the relationship of its form to that of other trees). Fog, however, is the unifying thought. The fog itself may not be visible, for it is white (or gray) and rather formless, but its presence would be made apparent by the trees fading away into it (Figure 2-3).
If you concentrate on a unifying thought, your photographs will be cohesive. It is the visual equivalent of speaking on a topic without rambling aimlessly. Just beware of allowing the definition of a “unified thought” to become too broad. It’s easy to say, “The countryside is the unifying thought” as justification for shooting everything in sight!
Simplicity
For the beginner, simplicity is a necessity. The simpler the composition, the more likely he or she is to maintain control and direct the viewer’s attention to the important elements. It is equally true for the intermediate or advanced photographer, though with increased experience and sophistication he or she is able to simplify and control progressively more complex situations. This is true of painters and sculptors as well as photographers—and of all other visual artists. It is even true of composers, with the modification that the concept applies to listeners rather than viewers.
The importance of simplicity cannot be stressed too strongly. Over the years, I have observed that most unsuccessful photographs fail because they are too complicated (assuming that they are technically competent, of course) rather than too simple. The photographer is unable to elucidate his thoughts clearly and concisely, and the resulting photograph illustrates his uncertainty and lack of direction. In some cases, this may produce exactly the desired effect, but in most cases it will not.
Look at your own prints and ask yourself what your goal was in each one. Can you distill the answer down to a clear comment? Try it. Put the book down and analyze several of your photographs as if they were someone else’s work. Try to be objective. A rambling answer to the key question usually indicates a photograph filled with ambiguity. Is it clear, concise, and basically simple, or is it complicated, unclear, confused, or just unimportant? Then again, are you actively trying to express ambivalence or ambiguity, or trying to create complexity or confusion? If so, you may need to alter your approach significantly to best achieve your goals. Be aware of your intent, and state it simply and clearly, even if your intended statement is, “I am confused!” That may seem contradictory at first reading, but it is not.
At the start of this chapter, I suggested looking through your prints slowly while considering the thoughts in Chapter 1. I am doing the same thing again here. While this may seem redundant, I urge you to try it. If you have committed yourself to take the time to read this book, make your commitment worthwhile by relating what you read to your own photography. This process will also help you tune in to a better understanding of yourself, your goals, and your methods.
Expressing Your Own Point of View
Implicit in this questioning is the deeper question of whether or not your own point of view is visible. Without a point of view, there will always be ambiguity in the image that cannot be overcome by simplicity and unity alone. School graduation portraits are perfect examples. There is no commentary or point of view by the photographer. Each student marches in, puts on the appropriate robes, poses properly, and marches out. The photographer does not know the student, has no time to acquaint himself or herself with the student, and has no interest in the student, anyway. The result, predictably, is of no great moment. It’s a face. It’s simple and unified, but artistically lacking.
On a more sophisticated level, an attempt at enlightening portraiture will fail unless there is some rapport between the photographer and the subject (and if not rapport, at least some meaningful contact or strong prior feelings). The photographer should know the subject, have some interest in and some opinions about the subject, and try to convey those elements of the subject’s personality that strike him or her most strongly. In some cases, the photographer must rely heavily on initial impressions, for it is not often possible to spend sufficient time with subjects to know them thoroughly.
Lack of sufficient time is typical of all fields of photography. Henri Cartier-Bresson did not spend weeks on a particular street prior to photographing an event there. Yousuf Karsh was unable to spend days with Winston Churchill before making his famous portrait. Ansel Adams tells of working with exceptional haste when photographing “Moonrise Over Hernandez”. A quick impression is often the only one a photographer can gain of his subject, and thus his perceptions and definitions must be quick and precise.
Surprisingly, this is true even if the subject is supposedly non-moving, such as a landscape, because the lighting and other conditions always change—sometimes with astonishing quickness! A landscape is an ever-changing situation, and the photographer can rarely analyze the scene leisurely; but he or she must analyze it nonetheless. If you can quickly define your own reaction, determine how you want to convey that reaction, and go about composing the photograph with simplicity and unity of thought, you have a good chance of communicating your thoughts successfully.
Stu is a good friend, a wonderful physician, a penetrating thinker, and a fine photographer. During a workshop we co-instructed, I asked to do his portrait. I wanted to show him in an environmental setting that suits him as much as his medical office.
Figure 2-4. Stu Levy in Waterholes Canyon
Edward Weston defined good composition as “the strongest way of seeing”. Some people dislike that definition because it doesn’t give a handle on how to compose. Yet it is a remarkable definition. It specifically avoids rules of composition and purposely relates composition to seeing. It talks about “strength of seeing”, or in other words, the art of creating a strong visual statement. I believe that Weston would fully agree that simplicity and unity go a long way toward imparting strength to a photograph.
Simplicity vs. Complexity
Other thoughts run quite contrary to those just discussed, and it would be worthwhile to air them, if only briefly. A good deal of contemporary thought claims that today’s world is complex, dissonant, fragmented, and brutal. Since art mirrors society, it would be remiss and even absurd to renounce these elements in favor of outdated concepts of simplicity and harmony. Just as ambiguity may be better expressed by contrary principles, so too should these aspects of life.
Such thoughts point to a radically different approach, and surely a valid one. It is not my approach, but it may be yours. It depends largely on your point of view, and to a lesser degree on your subject matter. Personally, I feel that a visual representation of even the most complex, confusing, and inharmonious subject should possess inherent simplicity and unity to achieve maximum effect—just as an incisive statement has greater impact than a long, rambling speech. To depict discord and complexity by means of still more discord and complexity strikes me as useless, for it merely declares the world a mess without shedding any light on it.
Furthermore, those elements which are certainly an unfortunate part of today’s world are not new at all. They have always been there. When was civilization not plagued by hatred, cruelty, war, contradictions, insurmountable problems, and unexpected disasters? Art can illuminate this perplexing and imperfect world by isolating portions of it in an understandable way. Simplicity and unity appeal to me as the most easily understood approach and the one possessing the greatest impact. Yet I must add that this approach is valid for me in most cases, but not all.