Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Category: Art

  • Moving Past Perfection

    Moving Past Perfection

    Photography is a rather technical art form and most photographers get caught up in the gear and techniques. This can be appropriate for some work, but not always. I have stopped worrying about the last line/mm of resolution and absolutely perfect focusing and steadiness. It can be that imperfections can make some images better. I am moving past perfection as a goal.

    Perfection

    Sure, I love technical perfection. I think at some level most photographers do. It is a characteristic of what we can capture. We don’t want to just take a picture of a bird. We want to resolve every detail of every feather. The texture in an image should be so present that the viewer can easily imagine what it feels like. Every part of the subject must be in crisp focus and highly detailed.

    Technical perfection like this is a form of craftsmanship. It shows our viewer that we know how to use our tools and that we can check the craft boxes to prove our work is worthy.

    But this craftsmanship is a table stake, to use a business term. A table stake is the minimum viable offer that will be considered. For example, if you are buying a new car, you would not consider one that does not have a backup camera. It used to be a luxury but it has become an expected necessity. In the same way, digital photography has improved our product so much that there is little room for imperfection. Technical perfection, where is is required, is a necessity to be considered a salable print.

    Unless it is deliberate imperfection. More on that later.

    Don’t let it become the reason for the image

    An overused quote (at least, I seem to overuse it, because I believe it is very insightful) is Ansel Adam’s comment that “There’s nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.”

    I take that to mean that a good image will not be a great image solely because of its technical perfection. Instead, the technical details must serve the mood and intent of the image. Sometimes that means the technical details must be front and center, because they provide the framework that supports the resulting image. But in other cases they may actually subtract from the artist’s intent.

    I keep talking about sharpness, but the same applies to any other technical details. Composition does not make an image. There has to be more there. The absolute peak time and weather conditions at a certain location may help you make a very good image, but by themselves will not guarantee it.

    Who defines perfection?

    But what is “perfection”? That is very difficult. Must every image be 50MPixels or more at 3000 line pairs/mm resolution? Does every picture have to be perfectly aligned with “rule of thirds” lines and points? Does the color balance of the print have to exactly replicate the color of the original scene? How about images that do not have a definite foreground/middle ground/background? And how about the ones where the histogram is just wrong, say pushed too far to the left or right?

    Do these things define perfection? Can we make a great image that violates some or all of these “rules”? If you are thinking about some other articles I have written, you will know that the answer, for me, is there are no rules. There is no authority with the right to define what characteristics my image must have.

    If I have defined for myself that I am doing things in an Ansel Adams style, then that puts me in a box and defines certain expectations of look and sharpness. Or if I have defined that I am doing portrait photography in the style of Richard Avedon, that sets expectations of subject matter and style and print sizes.

    But notice that these are self imposed limitations. I reserve the right to define for myself the nature of perfection for my images. It may or may not include technical perfection.

    How can an “imperfect” image be good?

    If I set the definition of perfection for my images, then what does imperfect mean? It will only be imperfect if I fail to achieve the result I want.

    Think of some of the great shots of photojournalism or street photography. Some of them are a little our of focus. They might be over or under exposed. They might be grainy. But they captured a moment, an emotion, a comment on the human condition that completely overwhelmed all technical considerations. They are great despite their imperfections. Maybe because of them.

    I love (and was infuriated by) the types of comments I used to hear in camera club competitions. A judge might say “the composition would be improved if the photographer had taken 2 steps left”. I appreciate your feed back, but if I had moved left even 1 foot further I would have been over the edge of a cliff. Thank you, I will live with the composition I could get. It works, despite your sincere attempt to improve it.

    Past perfection

    So what do I mean by moving past perfection? For me it is the realization that perfection is not the highest goal. An image can be excellent even if there are technical flaws. Other things can and often are more important. The recording a “perfect” moment that exactly captures the nature and personality and essence of the subject can make a great image, even if there are imperfections.

    Actually, I am finding a lot of my current work is intentionally “imperfect”. I often use camera motion or subject motion as a design element. Some entire projects do not have a single sharp pixel in them. That is what I want, so I am pleased with it.

    A different take on craftsmanship is being able to use your medium to achieve your goals. Would you rather follow your own goals and create work that pleases you or struggle to achieve someone else’s ideal of perfection?

    Judge by your expectations

    No one except you can judge the perfection of your work. The definition of perfection is yours and yours only. They might say they would like it better if it was sharper or more/less colorful, or more/less saturated, of brighter/darker, or composed differently, or if the mid tone contrast was enhanced/reduced. And they may be “right”, in the sense that, after you think about it you decide yes, if I were shooting it again I would change it somewhat.

    But it is you changing your expectations that causes the difference in evaluation. No one else is in a position of judging your work unless you allow them to.

    Today’s image

    This is a horribly imperfect image. And it is just what I wanted. 🙂 It was shot out of a fast train in France. I wanted to represent the sense of speed and motion and changing terrain whipping by. There is not a single sharp pixel in the frame. The focus may not be right, I can’t tell. But this was one of the best of many, many tries, and to me, it captures what I was perceiving.

  • Depth of Field, Again

    Depth of Field, Again

    In my last article I discussed, in probably too much depth, the technical aspects of depth of field. But I try to keep this series focused more on artistic issues and creativity. Let me take a different look at depth of field again as a concept.

    Purely technical

    On the surface, depth of field is purely a technical concept. I went into some of the issues in my last article. Sorry for the math. 🙂 I know most people don’t like that. Actually, I don’t like it much either, but some level of understanding is necessary for mastery of the art.

    Maybe the most challenging concept from that article was “circle of confusion”. The idea that there are acceptable levels of unsharpness. Perhaps there are analogies in our understanding of what we shoot.

    Looking deeper

    Let’s set the math and technical details aside for now. I can hear the sigh of relief.

    I propose that there is an analogous concept concerning the sharpness of our intent when we are shooting. That is, did I just point my camera at a subject, make a decent composition, and shoot? Or was I clear in my mind why I was taking the picture and what it was really about?

    I have often referenced the Ansel Adams quote that “There’s nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.” There are 2 reasons for that. First, it is a brilliant observation. Second, it is something I struggle with, so it is very real and close to me.

    Yes, I can compose and I can use good technique to get the sharpness I want. I can use light to my advantage and I have a lot of experience post processing. But even so, I often look at my images in despair. Too often they are sharp images of a fuzzy concept. When I am honest with myself, I know I didn’t have much in mind when I shot them.

    Art happens in our head

    Maybe it is too obvious to state, but art happens in our head, not in the camera or the computer. As with any definite statement about art, this is a generalization. Sure, there have been many times when I was working with images on my computer and experimenting (e.g. playing) and things seemed to come together. That is the exception, though.

    All too often I look at my images and realize they are, at best, just record shots of a place I was at. No “depth of focus”. Not much below the surface to give you a reason to pause over it and consider it.

    The fault is entirely my own. I didn’t have anything to say, and I said it.

    There is a marked contrast with the images I get when I go out to shoot a project, or ones I shot when I was feeling strongly about the subject or the situation. Many more of them are strong and satisfying.

    We all know this: the more we put into something the more we are likely to get out of it. Why don’t I remember it more when I am out shooting?

    My excuse, other than simply laziness, is that I like to go out exploring and shoot interesting things I come across. I don’t always find interesting or “deep” things. That is just that, an excuse. Maybe it is as much that I didn’t have much to say that day. I try to remind myself of Jay Maisel‘s quote that “If you talk with nothing to say, that’s bad. When you shoot with nothing to say, that’s worse.”

    Circle of confusion

    So, is there a “circle of confusion” concept for our shooting? Maybe so. If we can’t get our ideas into focus, maybe we shouldn’t shoot. Do our ideas have to be in perfect focus? No. Like the technical term, maybe there is an acceptable level of unsharpness. I hope so.

    What do I mean by this? Well, sometimes I realize exactly what the scene means to me and I can determine exactly how to shoot it. That is great. I am often happy with the result. Sometimes, though, I just have a feeling, a sense of what I am experiencing. I have learned to follow those instincts even if I cannot clearly express their meaning at the moment. If something is drawing me, there is probably a reason.

    Later, while editing, I may realize what was calling me to it. If I was diligent enough to work the scene a bit to get several views and takes , I might be lucky to find that one of them captures what I was feeling.

    Maybe I am being too hard on myself. Jay Maisel also said “You always end up with too many pictures to edit and too few that you feel ‘got it’.” I suppose the feeling is common to all photographers, but it still is frustrating.

    Projects to focus

    I am learning to use projects to help me focus more clearly. A project is a chance to think deeply about something, decide how I feel about it, and then find opportunities to express it.

    It is basic psychology that when you are concentrating on something you are more attune to it. A simple example: a friend was thinking about buying a Nissan car. I don’t think about there being many of them around, but after that conversation it seemed like every other car I saw was a Nissan. I was more attuned to them.

    A somewhat more relevant example is from a recent trip to France. It was a family trip and we were going to be traveling around quite a bit but I didn’t want to come back with just random tourist shots. So I created a few projects to keep in mind to focus my thoughts and energy. One of them I called Sacred Places. It helped me be much more aware of cathedrals, of course, but monuments and memorials and standing stones. Even a small village celebration of their liberation in WWII. I felt more aligned with the concept of the project, it helped me to see more opportunities, and I felt I looked deeper at the occasions I found.

    If I don’t see it, why should you?

    Circling back to Jay Maisel’s quote: “If you talk with nothing to say, that’s bad. When you shoot with nothing to say, that’s worse.” If we can’t focus our feelings and experience, are we shooting with nothing to say? Just taking a sharp or well composed picture isn’t enough. If you can’t participate in the experience I felt then I’m not bringing you anything other than an “I was there” picture. Maybe it is pretty, but there isn’t much to feel or remember.

    Perhaps I do not have to be able to precisely express what I was feeling at the moment. Maybe there is a “circle of confusion” associated with our understanding of the image we are creating that gives us some margin for imprecision. But the circle of confusion in focusing helps discuss a range of acceptable sharpness, not permission to be out of focus. Maybe there is a range of acceptable understanding of our feelings leading to making an image. But little or no understanding is definitely out of range. With no real understanding or feeling, there is little interest for viewers. Have something to say.

    Today’s image

    I mentioned having Sacred Places in mind and encountering a memorial celebration in a small village in France. This image was a result of that. We happened, by accident, to be there on the day of their annual celebration of liberation in WWII. They still remember and memorialize it to this day. That in itself is heart warming.

    This flag display was presented while local dignitaries and military officials made speeches. I didn’t understand enough French to follow it, but it was moving.

    Having the Sacred Placed project in mind made me more attuned to this. We actually stayed for all of it and loved being there. When they discovered that we were Americans I barely avoided having to give a speech at their village celebration afterward.

    I hope a little of the dignity and solemnity of their memorial comes through.

  • In Focus

    In Focus

    Focus, as an optical phenomenon, is unique to photography. But when we consider being in focus, there are other considerations besides the obvious optical one.

    Focus is unique to photography

    I had never considered this consciously, but it is only photographers who worry about optical focus. What is focus? Photography is created by imaging a three dimensional scene onto a two dimensional sensor via a lens. The lens has properties such as focal length and aperture that interact with the light passing through it to the sensor. The physics of imaging determines the thing we call Depth of Field (DOF). This is the amount of the the scene that is in acceptable focus. What is acceptable and what this means is the subject for another article.

    So as I am setting up a photo and making decisions about the focal length and aperture to use, my location relative to the subject, lighting, etc., it is also affecting the range of clear focus I will achieve. I praise the wonderful auto focus systems in modern cameras. They have come a long ways and do a great job if used properly.

    How is other visual art different? Well, a painting is created directly on a canvas. The sharpness or blurriness of elements in the image are determined by the painter by the marks he puts on the canvas. Since the resulting painting is a 2 dimensional thing, it has no depth to influence sharpness or DOF.

    Or take a sculpture. It is a 3 dimensional object. We view it with our eyes. Since our eyes and brain construct a sharp representation of the scene we are viewing, we see it as all in focus.

    Other focus considerations

    But the optical sharpness or unsharpness of an image is not the only consideration. An image can be in focus or not in other ways. How well did the artist understand his intent? Is it clear what we should see as the subject? Does it move us in any intended way?

    Worrying about or concentrating much on optical focus is a beginner issue. Once we mature that becomes just a natural part of the craft we take care of automatically. I don’t know any advanced photographers who worry about “nailing” the focus. Sure, there may be times when camera shake or something causes the image to be blurry, but it is seldom because the artist did not know how to achieve good focus.

    Intent

    Sometimes when we are shooting we are moving fast. Maybe the light or the subject is moving quickly and we are having to react in real time. Or maybe we are just too lazy to analyze what about the scene we are framing interests us.

    I believe very much in instinctive shooting. But our instinct has to be well trained and experienced enough to bring together a huge amount of decisions quickly and without much conscious thought. Until we get there, we need to be very slow and intentional about what we are doing.

    Ansel Adams expressed it well when he said “There’s nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.” Our image may be in perfect optical focus, but were we intentional about what we wanted to say?

    Similarly, Jay Maisel, in his brusque New Yorker manner said “If you talk with nothing to say, that’s bad. When you shoot with nothing to say, that’s worse, because you still have to edit the damn pictures.” Well, he’s right, too.

    Before we even raise our camera we need to go through a dialog with our self. “What draws me to this?” “What do I want my audience to see and feel?” “How can I frame and compose this to achieve my goal?” With experience this process becomes almost automatic, but I strongly recommend being slow and intentional with it for a long time.

    When I feel I’m going too fast I still will slow myself down and consciously go through the dialog. It helps to center me and clarify my focus and intent.

    Subject

    Do all of your images have a defined subject? A certain object or area or pattern that is the key that the image revolves around? If you are shooting portraits or street scenes that may seem obvious. But even then, is it conscious?

    In a video I watched of Jay Maisel shooting street scenes in Paris, one of the images he shot was of a girl riding a scooter in a park. It was a sweet and nice image. But when he showed it and described his reason for taking it, we see that it was captured at the perfect moment when her head was up and she was kicking her pushing leg dramatically. A perfect moment. That gesture, as he terms it, made it a beautiful image.

    So in this case the subject wasn’t just a girl riding a scooter in a park, it was her posing and moving in a very characteristic way that gives a dramatic insight into her personality. He moved beyond the simple surface subject and opened up a deeper insight.

    Shooting the eye of the bird

    When I was learning to shoot (archery and guns) I was taught a simple but impactful lesson. You have to aim for what you want to hit. Duh. But not so simple or obvious as it sounds.

    One expression of it I heard was a story about an archery master teaching pupils to shoot birds. The students arrows were wildly all over. The master almost always brought down a bird. They asked him why. He said they were shooting at the bird. He was aiming at the bird’s eye.

    I have seen the similar effect in hunting, even in modern times. If you are trying to shoot a deer in the woods, if you shoot “at the deer” you will likely miss. Pick out the exact point you want to hit and aim carefully for that. Your percentage will go way up.

    So in our art, the subject isn’t necessarily everything in the whole scene or even that lovely grove of trees. What is really key, important? Pick what is really the subject and make it the basis of the image. The eye of the bird. This may seem nearly impossible in a landscape. But think about it. Give it a try. See if you can’t pick out what is actually the key point in the scene. Make sure it is treated properly.

    Experience

    But even more important and powerful than a clear subject is the experience we bring to our viewer. Photographers, in particular, often get caught up in the technology or craft and sort of forget abut the viewer.

    It’s kind of like what Ansel Adams said about there being nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept. If you don’t know precisely what you intend the viewer to see and feel, they probably won’t figure it out, either. Then we’re both disappointed.

    Clear focus and optical sharpness is often important, but will probably not be what makes or breaks a great image. Having a distinct subject is also important, but also will not be the deciding factor. The artist must have a clear vision of the effect he wants to create in the viewer. Everything about the image must work together to achieve that goal. That is being in focus.

  • What Would You Make?

    What Would You Make?

    As creatives, we make things. But are we constrained by sets of rules and conventions? What would you make if those rules weren’t there?

    We’re makers

    Artists are makers. Maybe that is obvious. We have to be able to realize what we visualize.

    It doesn’t do any good to say “I wish you could see what I’m thinking about doing.” It is not real until we do it. But sometimes we are held back by rules that seem to prevent us from doing what we want to do. Sometimes those “rules” are the voice in our head that is trying to keep us out of trouble, since trying something new carries the risk or failure or rejection. That protective voice can’t evaluate the upside of what we do, just the potential downside of loss or embarrassment. That fear can be as debilitating as hard rules someone imposes on us.

    Whether it is our inner voice or the things we have been taught, when they prevent us from making what we feel we should, they are in the way.

    Follow the rules

    Many people seem eager to put rules on us. There is the famous rule of thirds. Then other rules of composition. You must have a foreground, middle ground, and background to have a balanced image. Don’t put the subject in the middle. Watch the edges. You can’t have any clutter or distraction there.

    If you make it past all those, there are rules about what a photograph can or can’t be. Have a well defined subject that is in sharp focus. Never shoot in the 4 hours each side of noon because the light is too harsh. Expose (the histogram) to the right, but do not blow out highlights. Always use a tripod. There are many more. You know the routine.

    Sometimes it seems impossible just to make an image. It all gets too complicated.

    Whose rules?

    But as I often ask, where did those rules come from and are they really “rules”?

    There is no standards body that certifies artists. No one needs to grant you permission to practice your art, even if you went to art school and they thought they had the right to do that. No one can come and yank your image from the gallery wall because you broke a rule.

    Given that, why do we act as if we are bound by rules or conventions? Is it to fit it? To be part of a group? Because we are insecure about our style or ability?

    Maybe our favorite artist only does very realistic and dark black & white work, so that is the constraint we put on ourselves. We submitted work for an exhibit and it was rejected. Everything selected was highly abstract, so we think that is what we must do. Our local camera club disallows landscape images that show any sign of man, so that must be a rule for landscapes.

    Don’t apply them indiscriminately

    All the “rules” may well have been created for good reasons. But they should not be applied indiscriminately. There is a story of the mother teaching her daughter to cook. The mother cuts off the end of a roast before putting it in a pan and cooking it. The daughter asks why she did that. She says she doesn’t know, but that’s what her mother taught her to do. Sometime later the little girl asks her grandmother why she cut off the end off roasts. The grandmother told her it was because when she was young her pan was too short.

    The story is probably fake, but it’s point is valid. Even if rules were created for good reason, they may not apply to you in the situation. Always evaluate the reason realistically.

    Be yourself and do your own art. Who gets to decide if the work pleases you? Isn’t it only you?

    What would you make if there were no rules?

    Imagine there were no rules imposed on you. What would you do in that case? What would you create that is different from what you are doing now?

    Would you be bold to create fresh new art that may bend genres and go in new directions? Then do it! You do not have to be bound by anybody else’s rules. Set your own values and constraints. That is how creativity happens.

    Now, I am not advocating total anarchy. There is enough of that posing as art. It does not have to be disturbing or unrecognizable to be creative. Just make it your own vision.

    Learn the history of image making. Study what has been done by masters over time. The things that have been recognized as leading to “good” art. Knowing what has been done will not pollute you.

    What will pollute you is taking those things as rules that you must follow. Learn the rules then creatively break them. That is the way to push the boundaries to new limits. Limits you discover and exploit. Be free to take your art in whatever direction feels best to you.

    No rules.

    Credit

    I get ideas in a lot of unlikely places. It fascinates me that I got the idea for this article from an interview I heard with Carrie Underwood, the Country singer. A lot of her songs bend and even blur the limits of her genre. She was describing one project she was working on and being frustrated in not being able to come up with the effect she wanted, The patterns and constraints of what makes a typical country song seemed to box her in. Then she asked herself “what would I make if I didn’t have rules?”. After that she felt more free to relax the constraints and take ideas from rock or other sources that she liked. Now she could create her own preferred style.

    We can do it, too. What would you make if you didn’t have rules?

  • Fine Art

    Fine Art

    Fine art is a very nebulous term. I don’t like the term, but I don’t have a suggested replacement. What is “fine art” photography? How do I know if I am doing it? Is there a right and wrong way to do it?

    Photography genres

    Photography is a large domain. It contains many specialized disciplines within it. Each has unique focus and techniques.

    I will not attempt to list them all. I don’t even know them all. But some that occur to me are portraits, street photography, photojournalism, architectural photography, food photography, commercial photography, fashion photography, macro photography, and landscape photography. Cross-cutting differentiators within that are things like High Dynamic Range (HDR), Intentional Camera Motion (ICM), and black & white.

    In addition, the majority of the photos shot in the world every day are on cell phones. And a lot of these are selfies used to make other people think we are having a better time on vacation than we really are.

    Each of these areas has different goals and motivations and markets. It is very hard to talk about “photography” in general.

    What is Fine Art?

    But narrowing it down, what is “fine art photography”? How do you know if you are doing fine art?

    Fine art photography is distinct from most other genres of photography in that it is first and foremost about the artist. It is not about capturing what the camera sees; it is about capturing what the artist sees. In fine art photography, therefore, the artist uses the camera as one more tool to create a work of art.

    One thing you should never hear asked about a fine art image is “is that the way it looked?”. It is not intended to be representational. That is, unlike traditional landscape or photojournalism, it is not a literal representation of what was there.

    What are the rules?

    We have to define our own rules. This form of art is about expression and interpretation. I want you to participate in what I saw and felt about the image. That may be considerably different from a straight photograph of the scene.

    But depending on the situation, sometimes the captured image is the artistic impression I want. It is not a rule that an image must be modified extensively. There are no rules except those you adopt. If I am able to achieve my intent in camera, so much the better.

    When I capture a scene for art, I consider it to be raw material. It needs to be shaped and molded to become the final image. So even if the captured image is essentially my final vision, approaching it with this attitude gives me more freedom to be more creative. When I expect to modify my images I have little inhibition to doing it.

    Politics and causes

    I try to avoid politics in my work, but that is a personal choice. Some photographers are very caught up in a cause and want to do work to support it. You might consider Ansel Adams and Galen Rowell to be advocates for the Sierra Club. David duChemin does publicity for the charities and non-governmental organizations he is involved with. There are many more examples. It is natural to want to use your talent to support things you believe in. I do not make any judgement one way or another on that.

    I believe, though, that the first job of an artist is to make art. This is completely my own value that I cannot bind on anyone else. I see many artists get so caught up in their cause that everything becomes deathly serious. There is no more fun and enjoyment. No more creativity for its own sake. Everything is pushing their cause, and if you don’t agree, then you are evil.

    To me, the end result of this is that you become a propagandist and cease to be primarily an artist. If that is what you want, great. But it seems very difficult to balance creative, inquiring, free ranging art with propaganda. One or the other will be dominant.

    I do fine art

    Whatever fine art is, I have concluded that is what I do. I want you to feel what I was feeling, and see what I thought was significant. Whether I achieve that in-camera in one snap of the shutter or through something that is edited extensively or even composited from multiple images is immaterial. No more important than how many layers of paint a painter applies to his canvas. He does what he feels he needs to do.

    My work is intended first and foremost to satisfy my creative urges. It exists purely for its aesthetic qualities. I am my primary audience. No one gets to tell me, no, you should do this. Well, my wife can, but even then I may not listen to her.

    My work is intended to be art, not documentary. I am not presenting literal truth, I want you to respond to it emotionally. And for an introvert like me, dealing in feelings is a stretch goal.