You saw something that excited you. All your experience and great camera gear was used to capture it. You poured your heart into representing what you felt. Now what? For fine art, no matter what we felt, now we have to make the best image we can. We have to let go of what we saw and figure out what can it be. Now it takes on a new life.
Capture time
When I am in the field with my camera, I have to use all my skill to compose and create the best image I can. I’m speaking for myself, because all my work is captured outside. The same idea would apply in a studio.
Something caught our eye. We were reasonably sure there was a subject there worth spending the time on. We completely fell in love with what we saw. That is great. If we can show that emotion and enthusiasm to our viewer, they should be drawn to the image just as we were.
So we work the scene. Design the composition. What is the best position to capture this? The right lens to use? Decide when and where the light is best, Does the background and foreground need work? What depth of field does this need? Work through the technical settings: aperture, shutter speed, ISO, focus, expose to the right but don’t burn out the highlights. It is on a tripod, of course.
In the field the process becomes a pleasant dance intertwining the technical details, the changing light, compositional tweaks, and the “decisive moment“. If we are new to it, there is a lot to try to think about in real time. If we are extremely experienced, we tend to get in the flow and let our subconscious take over. Either way, at capture time, we are intensely focused on getting the shot.
Associations
This (potentially) great image we just shot has a lot of personal baggage attached to it. We bring back all the associations we had in the field. This image has meaning for us in various ways. It may remind us of something significant from our past. We might be proud of a compositional trick we used that we have been wanting to try. It could be one of our favorite places we love to go back to. Or possibly our association is how cold or hot or wet or windy and uncomfortable it was.
Every image has associations from when and why we created it. We have memories, feelings, expectations.
But guess what? No one cares. Sorry. Well, the associations may make the image significant to me, but that is a don’t care to someone else unless I have a chance to tell them the story of why it is special. I seldom get the chance to describe my feelings, except in the image itself.
The reality is that my viewer is going to look at the print and decide what they feel or like, without having those associations I have. They see it fresh and in a completely different context. The image has to stand on its own and be accepted for what it is.
Letting go
So I’m back in my studio working on an image. At this point, I’m working on the image to be seen and appreciated by someone else, not myself. To get in the right mindset for this, I have to let go of the associations I feel for the image. The image has to stand on its own.
This is not saying I should forget the feelings and emotions I had. No, they are important. They form the base of why I responded to the picture. But what can I do to help my viewer see something of what it meant to me?
A technique that works for me is letting the image age. If I wait long enough before processing it, there is time for the raw emotions and the visceral experience to develop context in my mind. It helps me to see past the excitement of what I felt and look at it with more objectivity.
Let me give a not entirely made up example. Say I trekked in to a beautiful spot through deep snow. I’m standing on fairly slick rock at the precipice of a canyon. It is snowing lightly and very windy. I’m a little concerned about the wind and the slick rock sending me over the edge to a 100 ft fall. It is very cold. I’m tired and chilled, but the scene is beautiful. Worth the challenge and discomfort. I love it.
As I snap the picture, all these feelings are imprinted in my memory along with the image. The difficulty and stress and physical sensations impart more importance to the image than it may deserve.
It is all new in post
My point is that in post processing, our job as an artist is to finish the image into something our viewers will appreciate. We have to be free enough of our own associations that we can look at the picture and see what the viewer will see.
The feelings we felt and bring with us are still extremely important. This is the reason why why we made the image in the first place. But the viewer does not know what we felt unless we can convey some of that in the image itself.
What can we do now, sitting at our computer in a warm, comfortable studio, to bring those emotions to the viewer?
One thing I am learning is that I have to let go of a technician’s purist view of the reality of what the scene was. We have a wide array of tools available to us in post to make the image stand out without destroying the “truth” of the scene.
We’re expected to remove that offending tree or boulder that interferes with the sight line or takes attention away from the part we want the viewer to concentrate on. We can do color and brightness correction to get the overall tone to match what we felt. Dodging and burning will do wonders to change the perceived tonal values and let us emphasize or de-emphasize areas.
Crop it to a different aspect ratio? Of course. There is nothing sacred about the camera’s default crop ratio. Stretch things in one dimension? Sure, the wide angle lens made the mountain range seem less impactful than I remember. Stretch them some. That is not being false.
Pre-visualization
Many authorities say we should always pre-visualize our images. I take this to mean we should have worked out the details of what the final print should look like before we take the picture. That works for some people, not for me.
I’m more ADD. When I am in the field, I like to be in a flow state. I shoot instinctual, emotionally, drawn by what inspires me at the moment.
Of course I have a good idea of what I will end up with based on my experience and knowledge of the technology. I usually can predict how far I can push something. This is in the background, though. I try to not spend much conscious time thinking about the details while I am shooting.
Two images
So for me, every shot basically creates 2 images. The first is what i see and capture in the field. The second is how I interpret and morph the final print. They can be very different.
Both the images are dependent on my mood, perception, mindfulness, creative flow, health and intent at the time. All images are interpretations of a scene. If I went back to a scene another day, I would shoot a different picture. If I post processed an image I love a second time, I would probably end up with a different result. It is art. It is subjective. There is not right or wrong, only better or worse.
All of this is to try to convey our feelings and impressions to our audience. A straight, unprocessed image will never let my viewer see my intent. Like a movie, what matters in the end is the effect it has, the feelings it makes us feel. My image has to stand on its own and be accepted for what it is.
