LensWork Daily

From Whence the Guilt?

From Whence the Guilt?

Old habits die hard, of that there is no doubt. For most of the 20th century, we photographers knew there was an immutable relationship between the size of our camera and the technical excellence of our photographs. A handheld 35mm camera was fine for certain kinds of work, but the more serious photographer used medium format; a really serious photographer used 4x5, but every 4x5 photographer knew that even more magic lay two formats up in the 8 x 10. An 11 x 14 camera was the measure of ultimate fastidiousness, almost the top of the mountain. There was, of course, the Polaroid 20 x 24 camera which was a form of photographic knighthood reserved to the elite of the elite. That's the way it was, that's the way it had always been, and there was no reason to think that it was ever going to change.

Except for the fact that it did. I need not waste any words here on the debate between digital and analog photography because they are not necessary — and it is not my main point. Instead, I find myself wondering about this tangible feeling of guilt about my "toy" cameras — currently the Panasonic G2 — guilt that I cannot seem to shake.

From time to time I feel an irresistible urge to trade up to a more serious camera. For inexplicable reasons, I start lusting after a Canon 5D Mark III, or in rare moments of madness, a Leica S2. I'll even go so far as to watch (in horror) as my fingers type in www.dpreview.com while I stand by powerless to resist the siren call. Guilt is a powerful force.

Perhaps my guilt is rooted in the idea that a more serious camera will make me a more serious photographer — or at least perceived as a more serious photographer. Perhaps it's even deeper than that — that I will feel like a more serious photographer.

Of course, all of this is in my mind rather than in my photographs, which is the only and one defense against the guilt — the brute force of the simple question "Do I really need a new camera?" The irresistible urge is then defeated in the face of one simple fact: I am not dissatisfied with the results produced by my toy cameras. That is to say, in the folios, chapbooks, PDFs, and even individual prints that I produce with these cameras I simply cannot find any technical flaws that would be resolved by a new machine. None. Indeed, the only thing that would be resolved is my sense of guilt — which leaves me only the rationale that perhaps the new camera would be less expensive than psychotherapy. Hmmm. . .

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.

Evangelizing Our Older Work

Evangelizing Our Older Work

We had a fantastic time here this last weekend at the CPA opening of our exhibit "Photographs Off the Wall" featuring folios, chapbooks, and keepsakes. Reconnected with lots of friends and met loads of new ones. Getting out of the office always has its rewards.

Without a doubt, however, the lesson of the evening first came in a conversation with Ted Orland. I've known Ted for some 30 years since I took a workshop with he and David Bayles back in the early 1980s. Ted is an insightful, observant, imaginative fellow — as anyone who knows him will attest. He's also been a regular and loyal reader of LensWork since issue #1. After spending some time at the exhibition carefully examining our folios, he approached me with enthusiasm and proceeded to share his excitement about the concept. He confessed that he'd seen the articles and advertisements about folios in LensWork, but — in his own words — it never really "sunk in" how wonderful the folios were until he had the chance to see them here at the exhibition. He talked for several minutes about the possibilities he could see for this format of presentation and was overflowing with excitement and compliments — which of course thrilled me.

Only later, after the flush of the moment, did the lesson fully sink in. If you were to ask me, I would have no doubt been confident that anyone who has been reading LensWork since the very beginning would have a thorough and complete grasp of what a folio is and why I have been so excited about them all these years. If a new reader was puzzled, I would have understood, but a long-term LensWork fan? The lesson here is that no matter how "old" an idea or message might seem to us and how easy it is to assume that everyone who has heard (or read) it gets the point, the reality is that we can never repeat the key concepts too many times. People hear information when they are ready to hear it.

This pertains equally to our artwork. Just because we've moved on to new work that is novel and exciting, we should not turn our backs on the old work and stop evangelizing it. For example, I completed my Made of Steel work six years ago and haven't added any new images or content to that project since then. To me, it's a bit long in the tooth and I've moved on to newer projects. At the opening this weekend, however, I had a dozen or more people approach me with comments and compliments about how that work moved them, seeing it for the first time. It may be older work to me, but to them it was brand new, fresh, relevant, and moving. It would have been easy to overlook that older work when we were planning the exhibition and to focus only on my more recent output. I'm glad now we didn't.

I guess what I'm suggesting is that there isn't an objective measure of "old" or "new" work that applies universally; the very concept of old or new work is only relevant in a relative sense — old or new to the individual who is seeing it for the first or latest time. This was emphasized to me when another individual came up to me at the exhibition and talked about having seen some of the early Made of Steel images when we published them in LensWork #15, some 17 years ago. She was excited to learn that I now have a book of that work and she went on to say that for her, the Made of Steel folio was the highlight of the show. I would never have predicted such a response from such "old" work.

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.

Image & Text as Point of Entry

Image & Text as Point of Entry

As long-term readers of LensWork already know, I've been an advocate of image and text combinations for a long time. My reasons are quite simple; words and language can offer an entry-point to the understanding and appreciating of our images that is often denied to the images themselves. Here is one small anecdote that illustrates the point.

At the CPA exhibition this last weekend the wife of an accomplished and long-term photographer could not wait to tell me how much she appreciated my Made of Steel folio that was on display. She started, however, by confessing that when she glanced at the images on the wall she had no interest in them whatsoever — garages, greasy tools, "guy stuff" as she described it. However, at the invitation of her photographer-husband, she read the introductory text about my grandfather and his shop that was the motivation for this project. With that personal connection and introductory story as context to understand the images, she engaged them with enthusiasm and was quite effusive with her compliments.

Through the stories she was able to connect with the images. Notice the sequence of events in that last sentence. It was the stories — the words and text — that allowed her to form an appreciation for the images, a sequence that is 180° reversed from what we would normally expect. That is to say, reading is more difficult and time-consuming than glancing at an image; as a photographer, my assumption would be that the images would reach a viewer's consciousness first and text would be the supplement. In fact, as this woman demonstrated, comprehension, understanding, and connection may just as easily take place the other way around.

I think of this as a matter of motivation. After she had read the text, she was motivated to spend the time necessary for her to connect with the images. The text opened the doors to her perception. For me, this is simply perfect — a non-photographer connecting with my artwork via content rather than merely through an appreciation of photographic craft or technical accomplishment. If a little text is required to provide that motivation, aren't we, as photographers, well served by the time we spend to craft a little text that brings people closer to our images?

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.

Grandpa is So Old...

Grandpa is So Old...

True story reported yesterday from my daughter:

Ryan (my grandson, age 6): Grandpa is old, isn't he?

Mom (my daughter): Why do you ask?

Ryan: I was just wondering about when he was a kid. Were all the TV shows on his iPad in black-and-white?

And to think that I used to be proud of the fact that I was the first student in my high school to own a cassette tape recorder — a marvelous Norelco that I still remember fondly. I also remember my first three cameras — a Praktica FX2, a Mamiya 500TL, and a Yashica Mat 124G — with a nostalgic mist in my eyes. Purchase prices: $35 (used), $119 (new), $125 (new). Ah, so many cameras ago . . .

Yes, Ryan, Grandpa is old.

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.

Our Miss Brooks

Our Miss Brooks

No, it's not what your are thinking — this has nothing to do with me. Just a coincidence of names. Instead, I have an odd observation about old time radio.

If you ever find yourself tiring (as I have been of late) of the incessant sex, violence, and profanity in today's typical Hollywood productions, there is always old time radio and the early days of TV. I've been listening to a radio show (and later a television comedy) from the 1950s called Our Miss Brooks starring Eve Arden (available from www.archive.org). Some of you might remember it, but if you don't, just think of Lucille Ball in I Love Lucy and you will be pretty close. In fact, the television version of Our Miss Brooks ran concurrently with I Love Lucy and was also produced by Desilu — surely not a coincidence. For my money, Our Miss Brooks was every bit as funny and entertaining as I Love Lucy. I'm enjoying the innocence and naiveté of these shows — in spite of their somewhat predictable plots, over-the-top sight gags, and corny puns. The reason it pertains to this commentary on still photography will become apparent in a moment.

In Our Miss Brooks, one of the main characters is played by a young "Dick Crenna," — later known as Richard Crenna. He went on in his career to larger fame as a regular on the television show The Real McCoys and also on the big screen as both an actor and director. You may remember him from the Rambo films or playing opposite Audrey Hepburn in Wait Until Dark. He also directed a number of episodes of The Andy Griffith Show in 1963-64 when he was in his late 30s. His is an impressive and long-term success in Hollywood spanning 40 years. He died in 2003.

What struck me about him and Our Miss Brooks that pertains to us photographers is the training ground that Our Miss Brooks and similar shows provided for young actors. Similarly, in watching episodes of The Twilight Zone, it's fun to see so many actors that we recognize for their later, more famous roles — William Shatner (Star Trek), Inger Stevens (The Farmer's Daughter), Jack Klugman (The Odd Couple/ Quincy MD), Dick York (Bewitched), Donna Douglas (The Beverly Hillbillies), etc . These early radio and television shows prepared Crenna and so many other actors for their later success. What is the learning equivalent for still photographers?

Sure, we can post our photographs in the local restaurant or community college gallery, but such local exposure hardly compares. There are some magazines that might be the functional equivalent — perhaps even LensWork itself. But, I can't help but think that we need more of these types of opportunities for young photographers to learn, practice, grow, and develop their craft. The primary gallery scene in photography is for accomplished masters — especially in the better, more established galleries, certainly in all the major museums. Book publishers are somewhat narrowly focused on the accomplished masters, too. Perhaps it is the Internet that provides the best training ground for developing photographers; perhaps Blurb; perhaps the ubiquitous photo contests. Somehow, none of these examples seems to rise to the level of training I see in these early television and radio broadcasts — perhaps because they garnered an nationwide audience where a local photography exhibit in the corner sandwich shop is, well, not nationwide.

And one other observation, if I may. Because the venues and audience for budding photographers is so limited and often amongst their photographic peers, there is the risk of becoming inbred by training. The young actors of early radio and television had the general public as their audience — an inoculation against the becoming self-absorbed and a self-limiting clique. We photographers far too often produce photographs for an audience of other photographers. We are a bit of a closed circle. Perhaps that, too, could be overcome with a better training ground for emerging photographers.

I wish I had an answer how to accomplish this, but I don't — other than the magazine we produce that emphasizes emerging photographers with every issue. My biggest regret so far in our publishing career is that LensWork is still read primarily by the photographic community rather than the public at large. Perhaps there simply isn't an answer for this, but as a community, we could desperately use one.

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.

Electric Bike?

Electric Bike?

I have a dumb question for you: Do any of you have any experience with an electric bike?

For some time now, I've been using my 21-speed bicycle as a means for local locomotion while out photographing. I've found a bicycle to be an ideal means of transportation from which I can easily dismount for a photograph without having to find a place to park a car. Its slow speed allows me more time to look and take in the scene — at least compared to driving by in a car. In small towns, urban environments, and even some park settings, my bicycle has been ideal.

The only limitation I've discovered is the bicyclists bane — elevation and distance. My knees can handle a 10 mile radius, and perhaps double that if the terrain is reasonably flat. Add a little elevation, however, and I am quickly overwhelmed. (This aging crap is not for sissies.)

I recently discovered the world of electric bikes and have been wondering if this might be an alternative for my recalcitrant joints. Anybody have any comments based on experience?

Missing the Point

Missing the Point

I recognize that this comment will insert my EEEE wide foot into my EEEE wide mouth, but I can't resist.

Are you aware of the giant photographic controversy regarding Magnum photographer Paolo Pellegrin? If not, here is a place to start and the topic picked up steam in photographic circles here. Evidently, he faked the photograph — and won a World Press Photo and Picture of the Year International contest with this image.

The controversy is that he faked it; the elephant in the living room is that such a stupid, unimaginative, amateurish, banal, vapid, and awful photograph won anything. Yes, I meant to say that out loud.

You mean to tell me that of all the photographs there were to choose from, this is the best press photograph of the year? In the world? You've got to be kidding. I wonder how many of you would have even bothered to give this image a second look if it had been on your contact sheet, let alone submit it to a contest, let alone think its execution and message so worthy as to fake its composition?

This must be from The Onion or an SNL skit because I just can't bring myself to believe this is the best of anything.

Which brings me to the subject of political correctness.

• How much cachet is given to this photograph because it was made by a Magnum photographer? If it had been made by a first year photography student would it have been awarded a prize?
• How much cachet is given to this photograph because it is about the timely topic of guns? But what does it say about that societal issue other than a banal reinforcement of stereotypes? Beer, beer bellies, baseball caps and rednecks. Gee, how deep, how insightful, how meaningful.
• How much do the Magnum/topical aspects of this photograph trump its boring image construction? Has photography reduced itself so that quality is immaterial, and that mere formulaic recitation of politically correct ideas is all that counts anymore?

I guess I'm just old school and think that a photograph worthy of note (or awards) should somehow be a good photograph independent of its political correctness. But, that's just me.

Feel free to throw tomatoes at will.

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.

Moving Strategies

Moving Strategies

There are several strategies that can be employed when one is moving — be it one's residence, or one's business. The intelligent strategy is to live sparingly, purge with consistency, keep only what you need, travel light, live light, and do not accumulate massive piles of stuff. As I say, this is the intelligent strategy and obviously the one we did not employ.

Instead, in the last 12 years that we've been located at our beloved building across from the shipyard here in Anacortes, we accumulated, amassed, piled up, tucked away, and — I now believe — threw away not even the smallest scrap of paper. At least that's the way it seems now that we have embraced the move to our new offices. Almost a week into it and we still have a truck load or two to bring over. Thank goodness we only moved five blocks!

My advice to all of you is to never, ever move. I mean it. Six days after they said they would hook up our Internet, the Comcast folks finally showed up after I threatened legal and bodily harm. They explained that there were no techs available to which I responded that there were plenty of lawyers with time on their hands. An hour later and the good news is that we are back online and have email once again. The even better news is that I didn't stroke out or pop the veins in my forehead. It was dicey, but I pulled through.

So, repeat after me: "I will never, ever move. I will die in the house in which I now live. Change is an evil, bad thing. I am happy where I am." Repeat until you are numb. Then go surfing and shopping at Amazon and take a moment to really enjoy the pleasure of searching for just right slotted spoon amongst the gazillion choices you have to consider online. Read the spoof news over at The Onion; catch a little YouTube from that 1974 blues-rock bank Zephyr; click away and enjoy your unlimited access to data galore. I know that's what I will be doing tonight.

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.

We're Moving!

We're Moving!

Truly a "random thought" and definitely a bit of inside baseball stuff, but we are moving our offices this week. We've had 12 wonderful years in this old, historic building, but it's time to move on. The building no long suits our needs, so we've found a new space that will be our new home-away-from-home in the coming years. We've loved being here, and it's been fun being located across from the shipyard, but to be honest, we won't miss the sandblasting, arc welding, and the constant din of their hammers on steel hulls. Our aging knees also won't miss the 21 steps up to second floor. And, the new office has a room for video recording and we're looking forward to bringing more video content to LensWork Online and LensWork Extended.

The official move is on Thursday and Friday of this week. Our phones will be down for a bit, but the website and online store will not be affected. New comments here at LensWork Daily may be a bit thin this week while we move and settle in.

Here is the relevant data:

New address:
LensWork Publishing
1101 8th St, Suite C
Anacortes, WA 98221-1800

Phones are the same: 360-840-1343 and 800-659-2130.
Fax numbers are the same: 503-905-6111 and 800-866-7459

We anticipate being 100% back to normal on Monday, February 25, but will likely be back in partial form even late Thursday or Friday morning. Wish us luck!

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.

The Pause

The Pause

Perhaps it's just me, but things sure seem quiet on the photographic front these days. The usual blogs I read seem pretty sluggish; there hasn't been anything exciting in the way of new gear since last fall; there aren't any new hot photographers who've surfaced in the new year — I kinda like it. Sometimes the pace of the race overwhelms me, which I'm sure is a function of my age. So much of pop culture these days is based on the buzz. The buzzless start to this year has been a very pleasant change — although I have no doubt a short-lived one.

Brooks' books on photography and the creative process are available in print from Lulu.com, and as eBooks for Kindle or EPUB readers. As one of the membership benefits, these eBooks are available in their entirety to members of LensWork Online via download.