The last weekend of July is “International Airshow” time in the City of Sunderland, and with crowds of up to half a million it is a great time to be out wandering with your cameras.
What was happening in the sky held little interest to me, as I was so involved in what was going on around me, and trying my best to stay street wise in the mass of people.
Such events always throw up a mix of the weird, wonderful, and humorous, but actually photographing those fleeting moments is the tough part. Working in crowds can afford you some anonymity, but it can often be hard identifying an image from within the visual chaos. It can also mean that you are photographing very close to your subjects, and most of these images were made with a 35mm lens.
Made at Raby Castle Game Fair in County Durham, this man was loading historic rifles. I found the “Terrible Super Weapon Set” in the window of a toy shop in Newcastle upon Tyne, right next to a train set.
More pictures from Newcastle, the second of which I found highly amusing, and which illustrates how important text can be in the shot. For people viewing this on small screens the sign reads, “This exhibit is currently out of order. Please accept our apologies.”
The first of these was made during at the Great North Museum http://www.twmuseums.org.uk/greatnorthmuseum/ which was full of people when I arrived. I have always found the spectacle of humans peering at stuffed animals a strange one, and this seemed to change the balance a little.
Sometimes the detail held within a picture is crucial, and the “On The Scrapheap” headline on this mans newspaper was pure luck, and I did not even notice it until I scanned the negatives.
All pictures made with Leica M6 or MP, or Ricoh GR-1V. Film stock mainly Tri-X or HP5
Here are two thought provoking qoutes from the man….
“Be yourself. I much prefer seeing something, even it is clumsy, that doesn’t look like somebody else’s work.” William Klein
“I used the wide-angle lens as a normal lens. I had no philosophy about it. When I looked in the viewfinder and realized I could see all the contradictions and confusion that was there with the wide-angle — that was what was great… I’d had a Rolleiflex with different lenses, I wouldn’t have cropped that much. I had no compunction about cropping, because I did my own layouts…[And] I’d use anything in printing. Throw cyanide, white out over things. I approached photography a little bit like a painter would play with a lithograph, fooling around, pouring milk, tea, anything on it. It was the sort of thing that anybody with any sort of strict, classic photographic training would have qualms about. But I had no qualms at all about doing things with photography. First of all, I had no knowledge of it, and I couldn’t care less, because I thought the whole photographic world was alien.” William Klein (via Lens Culture)
I have worked intermittently with Practical Photography Magazine since 2001, and recently completed a job with them as part of their “24 Hours With..” feature. The brief was that they follow me during a landscape shoot on Hadrian’s Wall, an area I have visited frequently over the years. But with Ben Hawkins, the Deputy Editor from PP, looking over my shoulder and noting down my every move, the elements conspired against me, and it turned out to be one of the toughest assignments I have ever done, and definitely the wettest.
Any type of “landscape” work in the summer can be challenging as the quality of light is often poor, and depending on the weather, the “golden hour” can be reduced to the “golden five minutes if you’re lucky”.
This summer I have been revisiting Hadrian’s Wall http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hadrian%27s_Wall to try and make something different for stock libraries. Most of my pictures of the iconic Wall have been made in the winter months, when the sun is lower and more predictable.
For a few months in the summer the sun sets north-west of the wall, making for a much more challenging set of conditions and vistas, often dissected with harsh shadow. To complicate matters the north facing side of wall is not accessible in many places, so coming away with useful pictures is much harder than in the winter, when so much is laid out on a plate for the photographer.
An important part of outdoor photography is careful planning, researching the location, understanding the position and movement of the sun, and watching the weather forecast. Sadly the date for this shoot had to be fixed well in advance, and if the choice had been my own I would have not left the house that day.
The forecast was terrible and the rain fell in torrents for seven frustrating hours, only briefly interspersed with flat grey skies and a chill wind…..ah the joys of early summer on Hadrian’s Wall. We must have looked quite a sight, just standing in the middle of nowhere in the driving rain, water logged and dripping. But at least the midgies were drowning!
I had hoped for a shooting window of around two hours to make 20 or so pictures for the magazine piece, covering various locations over a one mile stretch of the Wall; instead I had around ten minutes total working time, with sodden kit and a nice fine drizzle. Outdoor work should be considered and calm, and not carried out at running pace with a journalist trailing behind with his umbrella! It could be argued that all shoots will not go to plan, and this IS the reality of outdoor photography, but ultimately I had quality pictures to produce for a client whatever the weather, and they had to be done that day.
With hindsight at least I got to know the location better, and made some (moist) notes for future visits, and I also know that my coat pockets will fill with water after a while standing in heavy rain. More seriously I received a reminder that for some commercial jobs the pictures have to be a compromise. When time is a constraint, every picture that comes out the camera may not be amazing, but has to be the very best that can be made at that time, taking into account all of the circumstances.
Only rarely on commercial jobs will the expectations that you have in your mind be exceeded, and you must be prepared for even the best laid plans to fall apart. That is part of the challenge and the constant learning curve, and you learn more from adversity and from having to draw on all your skills to complete the job.
Balancing commercial work with personal projects is never easy, and the two strands are often difficult for a photographer to reconcile, but the bills have to be paid.
“Shooting Hadrian’s Wall” features in Augusts’ edition of Practical Photography Magazine. http://www.photoanswers.co.uk/
There are hints of English oddness in these pictures. I particuarly like the fairground picture which seems to show the people moving at speed, however it was merely a biting westerly wind blowing their hair. It also seems to show the contradictions of such places, with garish sexist advertising aimed at (male) adults in a setting made for children.
These pictures were made at Cragside House in Northumberland, at Seaburn in Sunderland, and Keswick in the Lake District.
The latter is informative because thirty seconds after making this picture I was called a “dirty paedophile b*****d” by a strange man, who was obviously was going to have a busy day, as every other person in the Lake District seems to have a camera hung around their neck, or are recording and “experiencing” their trip through the screen of an IPhone. The ubiquity of cameras is demonstrated by the woman in the group of people in the foreground, who is taking a shot of the man with his head resting on the dog.
I have found nothing in the world of digital photography that can match that moment when you hold up a sheet of negatives or transparencies to the light. With the sun behind it a correctly exposed large or medium format colour transparency gleams like some sort of polished stained glass window.
At that moment you instinctively know how good they are, and which ones are worth printing or scanning. The very best pictures stand in a way that has never been repeated when I chimp at a LCD screen on the back of a digital camera. A histogram just does not do it for me!
When working with film I also make fewer pictures, which in turn makes my editing choices so much simpler. I also make more “keepers”, as digital cameras encourage me to be a lazy photographer, although I do accept that they allow me to take a wider range of images. (Before we go any further I must add that this post is not a rework of the tired film v digital debate; besides, I believe that in many ways the two are not compatible as they are so different).
The negatives I select are scanned at 4000ppi with a Nikon Coolscan 9000ED, and as much of my printing is now done digitally, they are turned into digital files and saved to a relevant folder. But this is the point at which my problems begin, and the editing process suddenly becomes more complicated. For as soon as I see the pictures on a computer screen, especially if they are viewed alongside several others, my ability to make decisive and logical choices about their quality vanishes. When I originally looked at the sheet of negatives it was easy to say yes or no, but when looking at my monitor it is not so clear cut anymore. Suddenly it’s okay to keep an image” just in case,” and of course storing and accessing tens of thousands of pictures is not a problem in a digital world. Right?
There are times when the digital “workflow” is all about volume, it can keep us tied to a desk, and it allows us to keep stupid amounts of similar images that will never get edited, let alone used. So much work is quickly consigned to obsolescence and is forgotten about. It seems to me that as soon as my negatives are digitised and put into that “workflow” system, their value diminishes and they are merely part of a filing system, they become “things” that don’t really exist outside of the computer and its memory. In my head my pictures somehow lose their individuality and their importance, becoming just a another folder or file, something that is a long way removed from that precious shiny piece of film I held up to the light. Part of the problem I feel is that I print off so little of my work, and without that output photography can become like stamp collecting – you find that rare stamp you have dreamed about, and then carefully store it safe in an album for safe keeping.
As a result of all this, I often end up looking blankly at a screen filled with too many pictures that now just seem “okay,” and it takes me a long time to find the best, as the overall quality is diluted. I have endless files full of endless “maybes” that I just can’t bear to part with! However I have found that this is not always a bad thing, as amongst those files there will be certain images that over a period of months or years repeatedly catch my attention, for a multitude of reasons. Sometimes I have no idea exactly why I like a particular picture, and I do not know what use it has. So today I thought I might share three of these pictures with you, in an attempt to get them out of my head, and to encourage me to be more assertive with the delete button.
Perhaps the bigger picture here is the industry hype, which falsely states that it “costs nothing to take a picture”, and tells us it is cheap to store all your pictures to “share with family and friends” (terrible flashbacks to family slide shows). We are all awash with pictures that only accumulate, and don’t exist in any real sense.
Recently, while out working with a friend, a passing man with a very large DSLR spotted us hiding behind our tripods and engaged us in conversation. After a while he said, “the thing about digital is that you just go wild; thing is it costs you nowt though. 95% of your pictures are crap….well mine are anyway”.
I understand what he was trying to say, that digital is useful in many ways, but from my perspective I find it sad that so much of that 95% are now sold as stock or as pictures for walls, and at knockdown rates as the marketplace is over-saturated. But working with film has made me a less wasteful photographer, and I try to only press the shutter when it is worthwhile, and I never do it just because it is cheap, and when it is easy it becomes boring.
At least I now know what I have to do to solve my editing and selection dilemmas – I just need to learn how to identify the 5%.
I am pleased to have four photographs nominated in the finals of this years Black & White Spider Awards http://www.thespiderawards.com
Sadly none of the pictures made the final three in their categories, but it’s good to have all the pictures that I entered make it so far in the competition.
I have found that the so called “rules” of photography can often be challenged, and then with a little thought, can be ignored. Experience has taught me that there really are no cast iron rules in photography, and I am convinced that half the time they are merely invented by writers to fill up their “Ten Top Tips” lists. And those lists seem to be endless!
We are told – don’t shoot into the light to avoid flare; don’t take your camera out in the rain; always use the lowest ISO or film speed to avoid noise/grain; always look for foreground interest in your landscape pictures; use the rule of thirds etc.etc.
One “rule” is to avoid showing a person’s hands when taking their portrait, something I found difficult with Maurice, a programme seller at Sunderland’s Stadium of Light, when I photographed him sitting in his booth through the small window slit. I didn’t want him to be just a head in a window, besides people see as much of his hands as they do his face as he passes their match programmes out to them season after season.
Maurice. Leica MP on Fuji Neopan
Another “rule” states when hand holding your camera, use a shutter speed number that is larger than the focal length of your lens, as this will help ensure a picture is sharp. For example, if you are using a 50mm lens you “should” have a shutter speed of at least 1/50 sec to keep things blur free. So, during a recent gig in near darkness, and with this rule firmly not in mind, I handheld for three seconds with a 28mm lens, giving me the interpretation of the scene as I saw it, with lots of movement and glimpses of enthralled faces in the light coming from the stage. I used film to give me lots of lovely grain, something that seems to be a dirty word for many in the “digital age,” and I also managed to make the picture whilst holding a pint of beer in my other hand. The latter technique is definitely not in any “Top-Tips” list, even though it perhaps should be.
So if you come across a rule, question it, and then test it to the limit, as the results can be worthwhile.
I have had a love hate relationship with Benbo tripods for over a decade now, but they provide me with a flexibility that suits my style of photography. Over the years I have had five different Benbos which have been immersed in seawater, frozen, dropped, bashed, and generally used and abused. One had blue sparks coming from it during a severe thunderstorm, whilst one even survived being lost by airport “security” twice (and I laughed at the thought of a “Security Officer” wrestling with the three legged tripod, which to the un-initiated can seem like an octopus when it’s unlocked.)
They have fallen apart on me several times, legs and handles have dropped off, they’ve all rusted, and knobs have been bent and smashed. One brand new one fell apart and I watched parts of it vanish over a cliff in the Canadian Rockies, another lost a leg which fell through a wooden pier and into the North Sea, and there have been a series of spare parts.
So today, when things got a bit wobbly during some landscape work, I somehow knew the end was nigh for another trusty Benbo. No amount of turning the handle would lock the (now very slack) tripod into position, so I took my camera off and lay it on the floor, and then wrestled the octopus gently to the ground.
At this point I must add that perhaps the worst thing that has happened to all my tripods over the years is that they have been peed on by dozens of dogs, all keen to scent mark the strange three legged metal tree that has appeared in their territory. Of course they have at times been gently dissuaded with a size ten boot, but sadly they are usually faster than I am!
But back to today. After a brief inspection I decided that the only way to carry my sick Benbo the mile or so back to the car, was to tie it up with some plastic bags I had in my bag. This done I laid it on the footpath and turned around to put my camera safely away into my backpack, which was also on the ground next to me. But to my horror I saw FIVE dogs running up the path towards me and the prone tripod. Just as they arrived I triumphantly grabbed the tripod off the floor, and swung it up under my arm and to safety, and the he dogs continued past me. I turned around with a satisfied smirk on my face, just in time to see a black Terrier with its leg cocked up my backpack. I am sure it was smiling.
Half way back to my car, with my pack warming nicely in the sun, the Benbo completely fell apart, the legs all separated, the handle, and several other parts fell to the floor.
It now resides in the garden shed, and I have a backpack to scrub. It has been a strange day.
Rust In Pieces - Benbo #5 (Note sea salt accumulation)
Recently I have found myself in a period during which I am evaluating everything I have made over the three years; being very self critical, endlessly going back over my notebooks, researching, and searching again for the things that really inspire me.
Balancing commercial and personal projects is essential for most photographers, but the two areas can conflict. In my own case, commercial / stock work can drain me of my creativity, and making personal pictures can then feel forced. When I talk to other professional photographers about this, it is surprising that for many, making pictures is often the least part of what they do, and few seem to be very prolific, except for the blue sky shooters.
But for each of us there is a point where you have to stop thinking, and just pick up your bag and get outdoors, to see what happens, and to smash any creative blocks by working. A friend of mine calls this “doing your scales,” and it’s easy to forget that creativity cannot be turned at will, as if by a switch, and you have to practice your technical skills, and sharpen your eye. So one day this week I found myself doing my scales on the Northumberland Coast, feeling under immense pressure after not making any serious pictures for several weeks.
It was good to be out on a warm spring day, but the tide was wrong, the sea flat, the sky a horrible cloudless pale blue, and the light ropey; it was an outdoor photographers nightmare! So after 3 failed locations, and 4 hours of frustration, I mentally gave up, and surrendered my anxious search for the “amazing” pictures that under those conditions could only exist in my head. And as I stood facing the imposing cliff top tower of Dunstanburgh Castle, one of the UK’s most spectacular and photogenic locations, I simply turned my back on it.
After a few minutes the pressure to come away with those spectacular pictures vanished, and I began to actually look properly and to absorb the details of the landscape around me. Perhaps it was merely luck, but almost instantly I “saw” a picture that had been in my mind for many years, in the flooded field 30 feet away.
Half an hour later with the light gone, I had two frames that were worth keeping, two baby steps forwards, and the seeds of a long nurtured idea had taken root. Perhaps more importantly, this moment of serendipity means I now have to get outdoors again, to continue wandering and searching, but next time with a little more purpose and optimism.
I am a big lover of “Photobooks” with a collapsing bookcase to prove it.
As with any quality book, the very best photobooks are beautiful, tactile, and precious things, which seem to make their readers treat them with respect when they pick them up. To a photographer they can be inspiring and frustrating in equal doses; sources for ideas and for understanding, but they are often (expensive) objects of desire.
This week brought an interesting symposium on Photography Publishing and the Future of Photobooks, organised by the North East Photography Network, and held in Newcastle upon Tyne.
Many of the problems surrounding and facing modern photographers in producing photobooks were raised through a series of talks by various lecturers, practitioners, and curators; and I would like to pick out a few of their observations and add some of my own.
John Kippin http://johnkippin.com/ pointed out how a photographer’s career is judged by their success within the Galleries, and through exhibitions. This system is very exclusive, subjective, and normally operates within certain social and economic contexts; and galleries only show work by a certain type of photographer. There is a strong arguement that they are “excluding” to most practitioners, and also to large sectors of the population, and that they only represent a couple of styles of photography.
Marc Feustel is an independent curator and writer, and specialist on Japanese Photography. He runs the excellent Eye Curious Blog http://www.eyecurious.com/ He pointed out how important photobooks and photobook publishers are in changing photographic history, and observed that we view photographers differently as a result of their books, viewed through the lens of time. Having the time to sit and engage with a photographers work in book form can be a very personal way of learning about their work and their outlooks. It is much easier to look at their pictures in the comfort of your own home or in a library, than it is in the alien and sanitised environment of the Gallery space.
Bridget Croaker (Picture Editor for the Guardian and Observer newspapers and Director of Photography for http://www.troikaeditions.co.uk/) pointed out that photography suffers because it is “not a homogenous whole,” and because of its ubiquity, and its ease of creation. She also thought this was compounded because photojournalists are now seeking the gallery wall, and as a result are blurring the boundaries of what is considered “art”, and also what is considered good or bad. Because of this she felt it was important that photographers understand what type of work they are producing, and the context of that work, and sees this as more important that being exhibited or publishing a book.
In todays market less and less photography is commissioned, book publishing offers are very rare, and are largely reserved to celebrity or “name” photographers. As a result of this some artists and photographers have turned to what is known as “crowd funding” to try and raise the funds for their projects directly from online audiences. http://www.bjp-online.com/british-journal-of-photography/feature/1936101/crowd-funding-little-help-friends
A fascinating example of this was given by Dutch documentary photographer Rob Hornstra http://www.robhornstra.nl/ who started the fascinating and ambitious Sochi Project in 2009 with the help of online donations. http://www.thesochiproject.org/home/?en His books have also been crowd funded.
Rob also detailed how expensive and difficult it can be for photographers wanting to produce quality photobooks, and also how small an audience there is for them. The importance he places on every minute detail in his own highly acclaimed and collectable photobooks was very evident, and this approach is common in those at the top of their fields. He also stressed the importance of a photobook telling a story, starting with the cover and continuing with every page. It was refreshing to hear him talk about how the narrative and his story telling was the important thing in any book, and not the self aggrandisement of the photographer.
Bruno Ceshel gave an interesting talk. He is the founder of Self Publish, Be Happy http://selfpublishbehappy.com/(Warning Adult Content) which was established with the aim of “celebrating, studying and promoting self-published photo books through events…, publications and online exposure”. Bruno sees little difference between “artist’s books” and “self published books”, and said the only difference may be that the numbers produced for the latter is larger.
I have been watching the rise and success of Self Publish, Be Happy for some time now, as I have been working on a project of my own for which I see the natural output as a book. They have some superb books for sale.
Something that was stressed by several of the speakers was the ease with which photographers can now produce their own photobooks, something that is exemplified at Self Publish, Be Happy. The expansion and disposable nature of digital and home printing has meant that small run books are appearing everywhere, as thousands of people decide their work should be seen in book form. This ease of publishing is supported by platforms such as Blurb http://www.blurb.com/ which offers a print on demand service. Books are often now not seen as precious objects, and are printed in zine form, on newsprint, or even as simply stapled photocopies.
Many of these books seem to follow very similar themes, with young photographers exploring personal situations. This exploration in itself can be important and relevant, but much of the work seems very self absorbed. There also seems to be a glut of naked teenagers running around in the landscape and doing the things young adults do, often in the style of Ryan McGinley http://ryanmcginley.com/ – they are everywhere. Many other books feature derelict houses, found objects, and “Dusseldorf” type pictures of the mundane. Maybe there is nothing wrong with this, but are they stopping to considerhow many of them are doing exactly the same, and are then releasing them as photobooks? I question whether this is correct in a market that is hugely overloaded with photographers, and backed by a photographic “educational” system that keeps spitting thousands more out every year, seemingly often making the same type of work. And if we go back to the words of Bridget Croaker who felt that photography suffers “because of its ubiquity” and “its ease of creation” this becomes more worrying.
Many aspects of commercial photography including stock, editorial, and photo journalism, are being eroded by this very same ubiquity, and the fact that everyone is now a photographer, or a citizen journalist. So surely there is an inherent danger with the overwhelming amount of photobooks that are out there.
The market for photographs is massive, and it increases all the time, but there are too many pictures in the system, often given away for free. As a result of this the overall standard and peoples understanding over what is good has been lowered. So in some ways, the glut of small photobooks reflects this trend. But what’s problematic is that the market for photobooks is a very small one, so for the vast majority a market does not exist. Unless a photographers name and reputation is already well known, and the content is relevant to a lot of people, then this work is unlikely to sell.
I am not against the freedom of artistic expression that self published photobooks can bring, and indeed in odd cases this can lead to critical and commercial success. I have been lucky enough to see some incredible hand crafted artist’s books over the last year, unique pieces of art in their own right, and they can be an important part of a makers craft and practice. In fact I also aspire to seeing my work in print, so if anyone would like to send me a cheque for around £15000 that would be a big help and might get me started. But I would always question whether that book was the legacy that I wanted to leave to the world, and whether it contributed anything to the rich history of photobooks that already exists. But perhaps that is not important?
In a disgusting move, Arts Council England has cut funding for the Side Gallery in Newcastle upon Tyne, which is the only documentary photography gallery in the UK. The Side is a unique and irreplaceable asset, and is an integral part of the cultural heritage of the region, and has been so for 40 years. http://www.amber-online.com/
Its archive is priceless, its exhibition programme full and challenging, and it engages with real people and real life. And that the Arts Council could not find £60K from its budget to help sustain such a vibrant collective is appalling.
When you look at the amounts of money being poured into some of the larger “art” galleries in the area, and consider some of the garbage that gets hung on their walls, it is even more shocking. I have seen photography exhibitions in certain north east venues that have cost nearly £60K just to hang, and which certainly do not engage people in the way an exhibition at the Side would. I recall one particular artist’s talk in such a venue, during which the artist bragged that the glass alone on each of their pictures cost £1000! Somebody has got their priorities seriously messed up.
There is a sad irony that their next exhibition is titled “A Luta Continua!” or “The Struggle Continues!”
As their website describes…..
“From April 2 to May 28 Side Gallery will be putting on an exhibition of work from its archive capturing struggles for change from Chile to Nicaragua, Tiananmen Square to Burma, Belfast to the North East of England – including work from Susan Meiselas, Manuel Alvarez Bravo, Casasola, Chris Steele-Perkins, Raymond Depardon, Abbas, Keith Pattison, Mark Power & Paul Lowe”.
Just look at the names on that list above, and that is only the tiniest part of their archive, which also includes Weegee, Henri Cartier-Bresson, John Davies, Sirkka-Liisa Konttinen, Julian Germain, and so many hundreds more! How can anyone even consider putting this at risk?
This week I attended a talk by Master Printer Jack Lowe, whose cutting edge digital work sets industry benchmarks around the world.
Jack’s passion and professionalism shone through, and you know when someone describes printing a test chart as a “joyous” experience that they are dedicated to, and obsessed with what they do.
This helps to explain why many of the UK’s top artists and photographers take their work to his studio in Hoult’s Yard in Newcastle upon Tyne, for printing and digital services. His client list is enviable, and a recent name roll includes Julian Germain, Andrew Shaylor, Alec Finlay, Paul Kenny, Dan Holdsworth, Julian Calverley, and Fiona Crisp; to name but a few. He is also printer of choice for BALTIC on Gateshead Quays, and he is a locus around which the best are gathered.
It is always a pleasure to listen to a craftsman at the top of their professional field sharing their enthusiasm, and Jack’s talk re-enforced the importance of trying to make prints that are beautiful objects in their own right. Jack is one of the few people that have the ability to take negatives or Raw files and turn them into prints that ooze quality, and have a luminance and power.
This talk was also a reminder that it is easy to forget that tripping the shutter on a camera is only the first step towards making a picture, especially in an age when the majority of pictures are never printed, and are merely consigned to a CD or a hard-drive (something which in time may become the dustbin of much recent photographic/social history).
To even begin to make prints of any real quality or permanence you must have full control, and a comprehensive understanding, of each and every variable within the photographic process, from camera, to software, to printer, paper, and inks. You need to know the potential of your equipment and materials, and know how to unlock that, and must also pay attention to the finest of details. Throughout this process it is also important to have a strong visualisation of the final picture, and then whilst printing, quality control must be strictly enforced. One of a photographers most important tools is the waste bin.
“The fact is that relatively few photographers ever master their medium. Instead they allow the medium to master them and go on an endless squirrel cage chase from new lens to new paper to new developer to new gadget, never staying with one piece of equipment long enough to learn its full capacities, becoming lost in a maze of technical information that is of little or no use since they don’t know what to do with it.” – Edward Weston
After years of carrying around a huge backpack loaded with lots of things I “might need,” I have spent more time recently travelling around on foot with the minimum of equipment.
A year ago I made a conscious effort to carry only one (film) camera on any trip, nothing else, and generally would select either my Leica MP or Ricoh GR1V, (the latter fits into most pockets and is very discreet; ideal for using without framing). However over the last few months I have noticed “gear creep”, and the one camera quickly became two cameras, and then two quickly became three, as I added my Canon EOS 5D to the bag, “just in case”, and to “shoot stock at the same time”, as I heard myself trying to justify it to someone the other week. Before I knew it I was staggering around with three cameras, a lens or two, a dozen films, and wondering how I could fit a tripod into my shoulder bag, “just in case”.
I have always disliked wearing a camera around my neck like a giant necklace, it’s a very bad look in my opinion, and a person sees the camera/ornament before they see you; so one small camera in hand or in pocket is perfect for me. So it is time for me to make a conscious effort again to get back to a sensible approach to using ONE piece of kit, and to stop acting like a pack horse and carrying around an overstuffed bag weighing up to 25 kilos.
I have found that carrying heavy bags can actually stop me making pictures, as often when I see something interesting my first thought is which camera should I use, and then once I grabbed that, I have to reposition and balance the bag. This does not make for a smooth work pattern, especially for candid “street photography” when as soon as you have seen something it is over. Even when I was carrying a backpack around there were even times when I would walk past a subject as it was too much hassle getting unstrapped and then setting up. Stupid.
The Leica MP which I discussed at http://www.rogercoulam.com/blog/2011/03/a-cat-and-a-man-in-a-hat/ has now returned from its long and expensive holiday to Germany, and came back in a very posh box and (fake) velvet bag. This is just the excuse I need to get out there again with one camera, one lens, and a couple of rolls of film in my pocket, and perhaps save my neck for looming old age.
Newcastle Central Station (EOS 5D) / Newcastle Swan House (Leica MP on Tri-X)
We have all been there! (Newcastle, Metro, Ricoh GR1V on Tri-x)
I recently attended an inspiring talk by the unique artist Thomas Joshua Cooper, who is regarded as one of the world’s most important landscape artists. The event was organised by the North East Photography Network http://www.northeastphoto.net/
Thomas only makes images outdoors, only ever makes one image in any one place, and uses an Agfa camera that was made in 1898. He is well known for the extraordinary lengths he goes to in order to make his images, and can spend months travelling to the remote parts of the globe to make a single image.
Cooper has always emphasized that his images are made not taken or shot and the final stage in the process takes place in the dark room.
“When I make a picture it is a considered event and a considered action, and through that consideration the act of construction occurs. So for me, I never take anything because it seems first to be overly aggressive and possessive, I make something, I originate it.” (Thomas Joshua Cooper)
“I see my photographs as meditations, it is as simple as that. To be understood they must be experienced––felt, seen, known. Consequently, I often use the medium of the landscape, for everyone, in some small way, has some very personal relation to the land––thus they are ready (and willing) to come in to look, if not into, at least at the landscapes I produce. I have trapped them then! For if l have made the concept of the photographs strong enough, the viewer will begin to still himself for, indeed, I make Still photographs––and with the coming stillness comes the possibility of a deep meditational understanding and seeing. And seeing leads to Vision. And my photographs are there mainly as pointers, indications, of a vision of possibilities where stillness and silence abound––and where Light is understood to be a substantial reality. My photographs are my greatest teachers. It is my hope that they offer a moment of pleasure to my viewers––and perhaps a tiny hit of (mutual?) understanding … but, as always, I have no expectations”. - Thomas Joshua Cooper, Creative Camera, August, 1974, page 258
I would recommend anyone checks out Thomas’ pictures and words, as they can help to illuminate the thought process behind making pictures.
Much of my personal picture making over the last year can be loosely called street photography, although I don’t like the label. I am interested in the darker side of city life, such as the fight for recognition or to leave a mark, or the repression of “nature.”
To explore this further, and after several exploratory trips, I have tentatively started a project looking at the rituals outside of football grounds in the cities of Sunderland and Newcastle upon Tyne (two places with a traditional sporting hatred of each other). Up to 50,000 people attend home matches, and the movement of this volume of people can at times seem like a human tide sweeping by, especially when one is going nowhere in particular, just observing and looking for pictures.
On an average street people often seem very alone, they have their individual lives, they have something different to achieve, but outside football stadiums there is a shared objective and some of that individuality is suspended. Everyone is going to the same place, for the same reasons, and each one of them shares the rituals, and is bound by the passion for their team. So under these conditions I have found it hard to make pictures that sum up how I feel as an outsider. As a result during my last two trips I have simply given in to the flow of people, rather than fighting it or looking for fleeting images that don’t show the experience.
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