Cameras Get Better; Pictures Don't

Syracuse Gothic: Mony above all
Konica Autoreflex T, Tri-X @ ISO 800, Processed in Acu-1

 As the great photographer Ernst Haas is reputed to have said to Bob Schwalberg (European editor of the now defunct Popular Photography) when Schwalberg was enthusing over the latest equipment developments, "Ach, Schwapselberg, why is it that cameras keep getting better but pictures don't get any better?"

Pictures indeed have not gotten any better, but we are in the closing stages of a great sea change in photography. Photography is essentially a product of the modernist era and was perfectly suited to expressing the ideals of that philosophy, which implicitly included optimistic humanism. Photographically, this reached its zenith in Edward Steichen's great "Family of Man" exhibit and book. The influence of optimistic humanism continued strong in photography for many years, although we gradually forgot why.

Now we are well into the postmodern era, and support for optimistic humanism has greatly eroded. There has been a crashing loss of faith in man. Who today would say with Hamlet "What a piece of work is man, How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, In form and moving how express and admirable, In action how like an Angel, In apprehension how like a god, The beauty of the world, The paragon of animals?"  

Instead of being seen as an heroic figure with unlimited potential for progress (the twin-lens reflex camera, by the way, was the perfect instrument for expressing this heroism because the viewpoint was usually one of looking up at the subject), he is now seen in a negative way as a threat to the environment and a creature for which we can have, at best, only tentative hopes. Man has been deconstructed, and this is the reason nature, landscape, and environmental photography, although they have always been with us, have now come to the fore. The idea that "the proper study of man is man" has been largely abandoned, and where it continues, it is often the study of people living in primitive cultures, as in much of Chris Ranier's excellent work; people who are living closer to and presumably in greater harmony with the environment. This also accounts for the recent spate of books about "Native Americans."

The great humanist photographers Robert Doisneau and Fritz Henle are dead, as is Henri Cartier-Bresson who exited this life dabbling in water-colors. Elliot Erwitt is in his 90s. B.A. King, least-known but one of the greatest humanistic photographers, spent the last 20 or so years of his life using his camera to advocate environmental concerns. These men and many others were part of a movement that produced much of our greatest photography, but it is on its last legs. As a Christian, I consider modernism and optimistic humanism to be flawed philosophies, but they nonetheless created a climate in which great photography was produced. 

Syracuse Gothic: Do Not Enter
Konica Autoreflex T, Tri-X @ ISO 800, Processed in Acu-1

Photography is about reality, but under the influence of postmodernism we are fast losing the concept of reality. This is reflected in the trend to computer alteration of photographs, which loosens the connection between photography and reality and threatens to break that connection altogether. From that moment, photography, as photography, will be dead. It may continue to be a nice hobby, a more-or-less profitable commercial activity, and a pretty plaything, but its power to inspire a sense of wonder will be gone. A virtual reality is no substitute for the real thing.

Camera Size and Some History

Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia. Fuji X-T20, Fujinon XC 16-50mm f3.5-5.6 OISII lens

The standard cliche is that big guys prefer big cameras. So maybe I’m an anomaly, but I’ve always preferred small and light cameras.

I don’t think I would have any trouble qualifying as a big guy — before a compression fracture of the spine and advancing age robbed me of some height I was 6’2” plus, and weighed about 250 pounds. And as for hand size, in my playing days I could pick a basketball off the floor simply by grasping it from the top with one hand. But I've always preferred smaller cameras. They fit my hands just fine and I’ve always hated to carry around unnecessary weight.

 In 1978 I dumped my Nikon F2 and Nikkormats and began a 13-year love affair with the Olympus OM system that lasted until aging eyes dictated a change to the Canon autofocus system.

I stuck with Canon for 24 years, moving with them into the digital world with larger cameras and heavier lenses. The tipping point for me came in 2010, when I hauled two bodies and a basic set of three zooms and a 50mm macro lens on a trip to Israel and Jordan.

Sweating my load on the long walk into Petra, the ancient city carved into rock, I chanced to meet a man who was carrying only an Olympus EP-2 body with the 14-42 kit lens and a VF-2 viewfinder. We talked for a few minutes, then I asked if I could hold his camera. What a revelation!

I had been reading with some interest about micro 4/3s, so when I got home, I ordered an E-PL1, then later, a pair of E-M5s and some lenses. However, the wedding photographer for whom I frequently worked as a second-shooter did not like the files, so I held onto my Canon kit for weddings, only upgrading my 5D Classic to a 6D.

Last year, I made the break complete, selling all my Canon stuff, and later, most of my m4/3s equipment, and buying Fuji X-system bodies and lenses. I was surprised to find that a Fuji X-T20 is actually a little smaller than an Oly E-M5 and did not handle as well for me. I had reached my small-size limit!

However, no problem! A nifty little black leather half-case from Amazon made it handle just right. I'm happy with my choice, and my primary photographer is happy with the files, which she (a Canon 5D4 shooter) describes as "pretty."

The problem with a full-frame system is not the size of the bodies -- I could be happy with a 6D -- but the size and weight of the lenses. Sony A-series bodies are only marginally larger and heavier than a Fuji X-T2, but when you add a working kit of lenses, the weight saved by the lighter body doesn't make much difference to the overall load.

More about Serendipity

Serendipity, as we've said before is a most capricious and unpredictable muse. But she can be courted. And the way to court her is to do the things that give her an opportunity to show up and do her work. We've talked about some of those things in previous posts. Still another way to get her to smile on you is this:

When You Find Something with Possibilities, Work It Thoroughly

As I was photographing a street bagpiper in a small square near London's Piccadilly Circus,

I became aware of a beautiful young English woman who was also watching the piper. She was to one side and slightly behind me. 

 Quietly turning my lens toward her as she watched the piper, I made several exposures.

 When she noticed me, I smiled a request for her to look at me. 

 A nice photo of a lovely young woman. A good time to stop, maybe? No, because she's enjoying the attention and cooperating. If I keep shooting, something even better might happen.

And sure enough, something better did happen: the sun came out from behind a cloud and highlighted her hair! But she was looking away.

Then serendipity did its thing, as the sun continued to highlight her hair and a red, double-decker bus moved into position behind her. The essence of English beauty. I got the shot because the situation had possibilities and I kept working it. And serendipity smiled.

(Olympus OM2n, 100-300 Tokina ATX zoom, Fujichrome 100.)

The Serendipity Factor

Pencil of Light, McLemore Cove, Walker County, Georgia

Happy New Year! May Serendipity Follow You Wherever You Go!

Have you noticed that some photographers seem to have a monopoly on luck? Or at the very least, a downright uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time.

But is it really luck--or chance--or fate? Partly, perhaps, but I think there's something else involved as well. Something I call the serendipity factor. It has been responsible for many of my best photographs, and I believe you can learn to use it to improve your photography also.

According to Mr. Webster, serendipity is "an apparent aptitude for making fortunate discoveries accidentally." I can't do much about controlling fate, maybe, but I've found serendipity to be a most agreeable muse, and one who can be courted by the photographer who is willing to spend some time with her. In fact, it takes only three things to win her favor: preparation, presence, and awareness.

First, prepare. Simply carrying a camera (loaded with film and ready to shoot, of course) is the most basic form of preparedness. The more advance thought you give to such matters as the equipment you're likely to need, the kinds of subjects you may encounter, the probable lighting conditions, and possible problems which may arise, the more likely it is that serendipity will bestow her favors upon you.

Second,  presence. Or to put it more simply, be there. Old-time press photographers used to say that the key to great pictures is "f8 and be there!" But where is there? I don't know. You'll have to find that out for yourself. But I can tell you this: if you're enjoying a leisurely breakfast at your hotel in Bangkok as the sun rises and the streets begin to come alive with people, you're not there. There is out on the street, taking advantage of that glorious light and the relaxed, early-morning mood of the people.

Where's there? There is anywhere things are happening. "Theres" are infinite in number and you can't cover them all, but if you pick one and pursue it good things will happen. If you want to meet serendipity you must go where she is.

Third, be aware. Let yourself be loose and sensitive to the things and people around you. You can't do this if you're uptight or in a hurry, so slow down and tune in. The great French photojournalist Robert Doisneau, who had more encounters with serendipity in a month than most of us have in a lifetime, said "My way of working is to relax and take things slowly. I enjoy just wasting time...I believe I have gained most in life in those moments in which I simply wandered about without any fixed purpose in mind."

Prepare, be there, and be aware--and serendipity will find you. And you'll find that the more diligent you are in practicing these three things, the luckier you will become.

I'll be talking more about serendipity, because it's an important part of my approach to photography. Meanwhile, here are a few guiding principles to help you court her favor. More to come in future posts.

 

Assembling the raft, Madras Beach, India

Get Out Early
Some photographers prefer evening light, but I often find my best pictures early in the morning. There's a different, softer quality of light, a calm freshness in the air, and both people and nature seem more relaxed and approachable. On the city beach at Madras, India, the pictures come early or not at all, because the fisherman lash their raft-boats together and push them out through the surf at first light.  (Olympus OM, 35mm Zuiko, Fujichrome 100.)

Early morning, Mayalan Village, Northern Guatemala 

Go Where the Action Is

 In third world countries, the action is out on the streets and in the market places. In the U.S., it's sometimes a little harder to find, but it's still there if you look for it. The northern Guatemalan village of Mayalan is a beehive of activity in the early morning as the people go to their work and the children to school. Situations like this are so loaded with possibilities that you can almost get by without serendipity!  (Olympus OM, 75-205 Vivitar zoom, Fujichrome 100.)