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Isolate your subject
If we could single out one fault that makes
for a flawed or mediocre image it would be the failure of the photographer
to
isolate his/her important subject. By isolate we mean that
the incidental things in the photograph that distract us and subtract
from the power
of the subject need to be eliminated or obscured. "Composition,"
in the words of Bruce Barnbaum, "is the artist's way of directing
the viewer's vision in a planned, de-randomized fashion. The viewer
sees first those elements that the artist wants him or her to see
most prominently and remember longest." ** A composition fails,
he says, "when
the viewer's eye roams about aimlessly."
Those distracting elements
that cause aimless roaming are often bright areas in the background
or near the
edge of the image,
an
object
that merges with the main subject, or simply too many things in sharp
focus and strong light. Before we examine a couple of flawed images,
let's look at one where
the
photographer
did a fine job of isolating her subject—a small plastic toy.
That description of the image is misleading, however, for the photograph
was taken at Acoma, New Mexico, an 800 year old adobe village atop
a mesa that in most respects, doesn't seem to have changed much over
the centuries. Except perhaps, for a child's toy.
OK,
you say, that was easy enough—the colors and texture and
subject matter all made it a simple, perhaps even obvious matter
to move in tight and shoot the pelican. I agree, but first she had
to see the pelican and that's what most of us would have missed.
A traditional
Puebloan bowl sitting on the wall would strike us as a set-up,
but a brightly-colored plastic pelican left behind by a child is
a different story. So what we are really talking about here is
both
seeing
and isolating.
I'm
not sure the former can be taught, but certainly the latter skill
can be learned, especially through a few bad examples.
Now let's examine
a couple of flawed images that have this in common—the principal
subject has not been sufficiently isolated from its surroundings.
The
trunk of this oak tree in a California park has some nice twists
and turns . . . but you'd never know it because of the way the
texture
of
the trunk merges with the background. Even in color the image is
barely any better. Objects that our eyes isolate in
the field often become indistinguishable when captured on film
(or digitally). I usually carry a green viewing filter when shooting
in black-and-white that helps me to see when tones merge, but I
don't expect most people
will.
The solution here: find a different tree!
Candid portraits,
especially those taken in the living room or kitchen, are notorious
for intrusive elements in the background, but bad photos
taken at festivals and concerts are equally common. I think we get
so caught up in the excitement of the moment that it is easy to overlook
something in the background. I can't use that excuse for the image
below, as I was quite aware of the lights and other paraphernalia
that's required for a live band.
Notice
the light fixture behind his hat. I was aware of it, but wasn't patient
enough to move, shoot more, or open up the lens to throw the lights
out of focus. I know I could have spoken to the musician on a
break and asked him to pose, but I didn't.
If this were a picture of Bruce Springsteen
or some other rock star no one would care—any photograph of someone famous
seems
to be "good enough." But let's not kid ourselves. The juxtaposition
of the light
fixture and his hat is simply bad. The
rest
of
the
objects in the background don't seem to be distracting; in fact they add
to it by suggesting a bit of the context as well as by offering a
certain frame— that
this is a live performance rather than a studio shot. Contrast that
with
the
image
below.

The principal subject is nicely isolated from all the rest of the
stuff because
it is much brighter and more colorful. Isolation does not have
to mean a barren setting, devoid of all context.
Here's
another flawed image, illustrating a common problem for anyone
interested in architectural work—getting
a clear shot of the subject without distracting cars, signs, power
lines, and even people. The image of the church is reasonably good
(a
bit distorted, but not too bad). But the white mail truck on the
left edge is terrible, as is the rear of the car in the foreground.
If the red car parked in front of the church were a light color,
that would be another disaster. It is the middle of a typical
day in Paterson, and there is no way the photographer could control
all the vehicles that are in his line of sight. He took a half
dozen shots,
waited
for the mail truck to move, and eventually got a barely-acceptable
image—nothing to brag about but a respectable "real
estate" photograph
of the oldest church in Paterson. On
the following page you'll see quite a different approach to
a similar subject, but here let's wrap up this section by noting
the importance of looking carefully for all bright objects in the
scene and for examining the edges of the image, and anything that
impinges on the principal subject. Then we'll turn to a few suggestions.
CONTINUE
** Bruce
Barnbaum. The Art of Photography: An Approach to Personal
Expression.
Dubuque, IA: Kendall Hunt, 1994.
This is the second
issue of a website devoted to approaching photography as an art
form that (mostly) embraces the traditional canons of drawing and
painting—which is to say there is an emphasis here on line,
shape, color, light, perspective, texture, and so on. We appreciate
that there is much more to photography than that, but an awareness
of traditions— from Lascaux to Rauschenberg—may be
useful to beginning and intermediate photographers as they explore
and experiment. There will certainly be treatment of the craft
and technical aspects, but our focus will be on composition in
the very broadest sense of that term. There
are two basic questions we will pose—What do you point
your camera at? and Where do you stand? When one
addresses those questions many of the other decisions are fairly
well determined. We invite you to explore this issue and tell
us what you think.
—FLG |
No.
2 June 2006
Photography
is not simply a craft
or art, but a means of seeing and thinking
about our world.

previous issue:
shadows
We
plan on publishing semi-monthly, with each issue based on an aspect
of composition, with
images from our own work and from a few contributors. There will
be links to other photographers
and
artists,
and an
activity or assignment whereby
one might practice and gain at least an understanding of the
several dimensions of using perspective, shadow, or whatever
is the topic for that
issue.
Our primary audience is anyone
seriously trying to learn how to make better images. If photography
is not your passion (or at least one of them) we suspect there will not be much
here for you. We
invite
participation
from instructors and students, and expect to feature the work of both
in subsequent
issues. We
anticipate the emphasis and perhaps the breadth or depth of our treatment will
change over time, as we get a better understanding of the needs and preferences
of
our audience.
We are going to use this website, very frankly, to experiment with a variety
of instructional and presentation capabilities, including audio and video conferencing,
threaded discussions, podcasts, and as much interactivity as seems appropriate
for the topic. We're still in the process of setting up some of that software,
but we hope you'll be able to participate more extensively by the summer months.
We have some
prejudices and you might as well be apprised of them now.
You are unlikely to see images featuring sunsets, birds, insects,
cute
pets, or rock stars and celebrities here. There is
more emphasis and space given to black-and-white images than many
people are used to; black-and-white is not better or purer, it's
just different and equally worthy of attention. We believe that
much
can be learned
from studying
other images, including painting and drawing, as well as the nineteenth
century photographic images that make up the History section of
this website, and throughout we will make reference to art and
photography we see as relevant.
One of the unanswered
questions implicitly raised by the very existence of this site
is whether photography can be taught. We have argued both sides
of
that issue,
without resolving it. But photography can be learned, and that
is the proposition to which we are dedicated.
The
image in the title graphic was taken in a New York subway. The
one at the top of this column is a very poisonous wildflower, Jimsonweed,
growing
in profusion
along the banks
of the Delaware River in New Jersey (and just about everywhere
else in the world).

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