Saint Augustine of Arizona

I recently posted about Hurn and Jay's book On Being a Photographer. I found the book interesting enough that I decided to read on of Bill Jay's other books (one of more than 20!) called Negative/Positive. Some of the text is identical to On Being A Photographer (nobody writes 20 books without some repetition). I am only 27 pages in, and I will resist doing a long post, but I just wanted to bring up Jay's very Augustinian (in my opinion) polemic about the "Naturalistic" vs. the "Humanistic" photographer. In 1979, when Jay wrote the book, I can imagine that he must have felt like a lone voice crying in the desert (literally, since he was a professor in Arizona for 25 years). The impression I get is that Jay thought photography was going to hell in a handbasket—and fast. Moral values were rejected in favor of the superficial, the banal. The "New Topographics" exhibit in 1975 featured photographers who may as well have been horsemen of the Apocalypse in Jay's mind—or so it seems, for they represent the triumph of naturalism.

So what does he mean by "naturalism" ? If you're acquainted with the term from studying literature or art, you will just have to put that knowledge aside because he does not use the term in a way that reflects that movement. Instead, he sums up the naturalist with a quote from Garry Winogrand: "I photograph to find out what something will look like when photographed."

The "humanist" photographer is the antithesis of the naturalist. "The photographer is no longer recording what is, but what could or should be." Jay uses words like "magic" and "ritual." He speaks of icons of Christ and their function as "a visual aid towards, not an end product of, truth or meaning."

This made me immediately think of Saint Augustine's concept of enjoyment vs. use (a side effect of taking several graduate courses from Eugene Vance). I don't have On Christian Doctrine handy to quote an exact passage, but the basic idea is the "enjoyment" is something suitable only for that which is holy. For Augustine, the only thing we should really "enjoy"—or love for its own sake—is God. Everything else should be used. Yeah, that's right. You should use your friends, not enjoy them. What he means is that your relationship to the world should propel you toward something higher. It's OK to look at a flower, for example, as long as you see it as a sign of God's creation. He doesn't mean that we use people the way a sociopath does; he just doesn't want people to love people or things for their own sake.

So, back to photography. If you're a "naturalist" and you just want to photograph things to see what they look like in photos, then that's just not good enough for Jay. Photography favors naturalism and most photographers are naturalists according to Jay. The medium of photography doesn't place value judgments on what it depicts. A piece of trash is as worthy to the "objective" eye of the camera as anything else. But the "humanist" photographer dares to discern and describe according to a system of values. "Humanism in photography has been a candle in a cathedral, and the slightest draft can extinguish it," writes Jay.

Hmm, I'm not sure what I think of this polemical stance. On the one hand, I LOVE the photography of Lewis Baltz, Stephen Shore and most all of those "New Topographics" photographers. On the other, I think that looking at value systems and having an opinion (even a slightly curmudgeonly one) contributes more to society than complete detachment.

If I were to try to confront my confusion after only a few minutes of thought, I think I would conclude that the real enemy is not "naturalism" but thoughtlessness. A "humanist" photographer might promote ill-conceived "values" that are just as superficial as the foil Jay has created in the "naturalist." Similarly, someone who looks at a Robert Adams photo of a piece of trash at the side of the road and then decides that they can just snap a photo of trash and have that photo be equally valid is simply not getting it. However superficial the "naturalists" might seem from the "humanist" perspective, the smart ones are seriously engaged in the world—just maybe not in the way Saint Augustine would have liked.

I guess one person's trash is another's treasure.

point and shoot lust: Fujifilm finepix X100

Currently drooling over the Fujifilm Finepix x100. How can I resist the old school look, the solid construction, and gutsy 35mm (equiv) fixed F2 lens? A lot of people won't understand why a camera that doesn't even let you change lenses should cost $1,200, but the target market (street photographers, I imagine) will salivate along with me because it oozes quality. Of course, I still fantasize about the leica m9, but at $7k (and that's without a lens) there is just no way I can afford it. Read a detailed review and see what you think. The camera doesn't hit stores until March, so I have time to get control of my technolust. But I'm back in Paris in April and oh-so-tempted to bring along something light like this for when I don't feel like toting around my camera bag and heavy lenses.

My advice to myself:
1. Until I see some reviews that have tested the actual picture quality, what I'm really in love with is the idea and the look. If the photos aren't good enough for decent street photography, then there's no point.

2. It's ALWAYS good to wait if you can. Give it a year and the price will fall and/or something better will come out.

Can I follow my own advice? Yes on 1, very hard to say on 2. Guess we'll have to wait until March and see.

More advice from "On Being A Photographer"

Since my last post included some notes on choosing subjects, I thought I would follow up by looking at what Bill Jay and David Hurn have to say about photo essays.

Once you have found a theme that interests you, the first thing to consider, according to Bill Jay is "What is the purpose?" Answering that question can save you a lot of time and help organize your work.

Once you have decided on your purpose, you need to ask yourself how many pictures are required.

"It might be only one image or perhaps seven prints for a magazine layout; 40 for a one-person exhibition; 120 for a major book, or whatever." (58)

Once you know number of photos required for the essay, you can divide and conquer. They suggest listing picture headings for each photo to form a sort of "shooting script" for your project. In other words, decide in advance the types of pictures you will need to take in order to avoid visual boredom. But don't think this means that there isn't room for spontaneity:

"Obviously, you do not preconceive the essay but you must be aware of the basic structure in advance of shooting." (58)

They key is to plan so that you have a frame-work that pushes you along. The authors are talking about art photography, but I think this is a well developed skill for most wedding photographers. Wedding photographers get good at narrating because they have a clearly defined event to record. They know that they need an establishment picture, they need details, they need candid shots, they need the inevitable shot of a cute little kid, and so on. The more weddings you do, the easier the process becomes—not because each wedding isn't unique or because you have lapsed into lazy cookie-cutter choices, but because you learn how to anticipate the needs of the story.

What the authors suggest, in the case of a subject that allows for repeated visits (their example: a photo essay on a club) is to start by experiencing it without your camera. Just be an observer and soak it all in:

"When you leave, write down in a notebook 12 heading or however many images you need to complete the project. You might jot down "loneliness" or "people in conversation" or "competition at the pool table" or "heavy drinkers or "flirting" or whatever stuck in your mind as an impression. (59)

Once you've done your visual research, you go back and try to photograph those headings.

"This means that if there is a club with a stripper in the corner you do not spend nine weeks out of ten photographing the stripper and one week photographing the more difficult headings." (59)

Their "stripper" example shows how having a plan can stop you from spending all your time on the easy photos.Having a plan will force you to create a balanced story. Once you have covered all of your headings, you can tack your images up on a wall (or some computer equivalent) and evaluate it. When you do this, you might find out that you have too many images from the same distance or that some images are weak and need to be re-shot. Reading their advice made me think of a book I read when I was about to start my dissertation. The book— How to complete and survive your doctoral dissertation— gave frightening statistics on how few ABDs (all-but-dissertation) ever complete that last step. So many Ph.D candidates lose their way and never finish because the task gets overwhelming and frankly, because good guidance is not readily available. The photographic equivalent to the ABD would be the photographer with shoe boxes (or discs or hard drives) full of photos that are never organized and put to any use.

As a blogger, I feel compelled to say that having a blog is a great way to do something with your photos. Thanks to blogs, a lot of people are making photo essays every day. As you get more serious about really crafting a good photo essay, however, I think that Jay and Hurn's practical advice for building a good framework is inspiring. In fact, I plan to use it on my current Utah-based project (and my Paris project if I can summon the energy).

Good advice from "On Being a Photographer"

If you want to buy a new copy of On Being a Photographer by David Hurn and Bill Jay all you need to do is go to Amazon.com and pay $489.99. No, that's not a typo. $489.99 for a 96 page paperback 3rd edition published in 2007. Yes, I know that I have posted about how fast photo books go up in value. My biggest surprise recently was finding out that the Michael Kenna Retrospective exhibition catalog I bought in Paris in 2009 for 40 euros is (at the time I am writing this) listed at $888.15. Who pays this kind of money? People who light their cuban cigars with $100 bills, I imagine. As for me, well, I don't smoke and I barely have enough change for the parking meter. But thanks to the wonders of inter-library loan, On Being a Photographer (second edition—probably worth even more) is sitting on my coffee table right now. It hasn't been checked out since 2005 and if I had no conscience I would forget to return it. But never fear, librarians, I would never do such a thing. Instead, I will take copious notes, do a post or two about it, and then send it back to sit on a shelf, unappreciated.

The book is in dialog form, which I find very appealing—especially given that both authors contribute equally. This sets it apart from the single-authored dialogic tradition in which one interlocuter expresses the author's opinions and the others are just there to be wrong (sorry Plato. sorry Diderot.) It also sets it apart from most interviews.

Realizing that the exorbitant price may raise your expectations about the content, let me remind you that the authors do not take themselves for Donald Trump, spouting platitudes for big bucks. Reading the book is more like eavesdropping on a great conversation in a coffee shop.

Here are some great words of advice from the chapter "Selecting a Subject" :

The photographer must have intense curiosity, not just a passing visual interest, in the theme of the pictures. This curiosity leads to intense examination, reading, talking, research and many, many failed attempts over a long period of time. (30)

Let us make a point clear: when the subject takes precedence, you not only start the journey towards a personal style but you also discover the sheer joy of visually responding to the world. (31)

the photographer is, primarily, a subject-selector. (31)

The authors then go on to teach some principles of subject selection:

They suggest that you compile of list of things that really interest you, "subjects which fascinate you without regard to photography." (31) Ask yourself "What could inflame your passion and curiosity over a long period of time? Once you've got a list, then you begin to edit it based on your answers to the following questions:

Is it visual?
If it doesn't lend itself to visual exploration then cross it out.

Is it practical?
For example, I love Tokyo, but unfortunately I haven't been to Japan since I was 15, so that doesn't make the cut.

Is it a subject about which I know enough?
This isn't to say that you couldn't start learning about something new, but I really like their example, "you are not contributing anything to the issue of urban poverty by wandering back streets and snatching photos of derelicts in doorways. That's exploitation, not exploration." (32)

Is it interesting to others?
Keep in mind that they are writing for people who want to be professional photographers. My own belief is that if you are passionate enough about your topic it can become interesting to others. But I do see their point. If you are equally passionate about several things and one of them may be more interesting to others, then choose that one.

For me, the advice "Be as specific as possible" is preaching to the choir. When it comes to writing papers I always tell my students that I have never—no, not once—told a student that their thesis was too specific. I dare them to be the first, and yet every time I end up writing "be more specific...be more precise, etc." on about half of the work that gets turned in. The same goes for a photo essay. Instead of "Flowers," for example, they suggest narrowing it down to something like "Plants that Relate to Architecture," or instead of "Portraits," perhaps "Cleveland Sculptors in Their Studios." None of this means that you can't let your work grow organically, but you need a good starting point.

"What is the alternative to an emphasis on subject matter? It is a frantic grasping for instant gratification which all too often leads to works displaying pyrotechnics but of dubious depth and resonance." (34)

They are both critical of the self-absorbed navel-gazing photographer:

"Most photographers would do the world a favor by diminishing, not augmenting, the role of self and, as much as possible, emphasizing subject along." (34)

Not that subjectivity isn't inherent to the medium, but the self shouldn't be the primary aim. I really liked their idea about personal style. A lot of photographers worry more than they should about creating their own unique visual style, when it really should emerge as a by-product:

"Over a long period of time and through many, many images, the self re-emerges with even greater strength than if it were the end-product. Ironically, by starting with the self, it is missed; ignore it, and it becomes evident." (35)

A beautiful example is given—one that explains why my wife take such great photos of our children:

"Take a mother on a beach watching her child build sand-castles. She suddenly sees an expression which tugs at her heart-strings. Without a thought, she dips into the picnic basket, aims the camera, and presses the button. The moment has been captured—and will be treasured for the rest of her life."

That kind of knowledge and love of the subject constitutes 85% of what it takes to make great photography, they claim. The remaining 15%? Learning to turn the particular into the universal.