Our photographer accompanied a pair of artists on a picture-taking expedition this past weekend. As expected, he has observations to make about old and new technology. But he was also driven to more general musings about the relationship between artists, their visions and their tools.
In the Five Colors Science & Technology library of photography are a number of old books that we still find interesting. Apart from details of procedures and chemistry that are hard to find elsewhere, they show the different ideas, through the years, of just what was a good photograph.
Our photographer is bemused by modern efforts to re-create, digitally, two of the least desirable qualities of fast film: high contrast and large grain. But the paradox of limitations and defects becoming highly sought-after features is not new, and is as widespread as ripped jeans.
We turn again to the theme of technology transforming society, or at least one part of it. With the invention of the 35mm still camera about a quarter of the way into the twentieth century, a whole area of life was suddenly opened up to photography. That was not the intention of the inventor, who was only looking for a lighter-weight way to take pictures himself.
Our photographic consultant is fond of pointing out to us, with the help of books and magazines, the different styles of great photographers. Clearly part of the variation in the final image is in the subjects they choose: Ansel Adams is famous for mountains and landscapes of the Southwest, quite a different thing from a New York City street photographer catching an instant among people. “But,” he says, “put in exactly the same place, facing exactly the same subject, they’d still come up with different pictures. They just see differently.” Which is true, and much more widely applicable than he meant. Even the same person looking at the same scene can see something entirely different at a different time. A simple exercise can show this.
Our chief consultant writes:
At left is a busker, a singer who performs on and near Washington, DC Metro stations. He is very, very good. His voice is rich, powerful (he sings a cappella) and educated; his choice of material is largely classical. He should be subsidized by all the companies with offices near where he performs, because a couple of minutes’ pause to listen to him on the way to work will raise employee morale more than any possible corporate vision statement.
He may in fact have other gigs. Indeed, it would be a massive waste if he didn’t. But running into him reminds us of the many areas in which people can be passionate and skilled, as well as hard-working and dedicated, and still not make a living. You can do what you love, but the money will follow someone else.
Our photography consultant writes:
This is the ubiquitous 35mm SLR, the single-lens reflex camera, the design you’re most likely to have actually seen and touched. (The Contax of the picture is a lesser-known name, but still recognizable as the same type as millions of Nikons, Yashikas, Pentaxes, etc.) With its many variations it dominated photography from the 1960s to the end of the film era. In fact, one can argue that the current master of the field is only a modification of this type, as its name implies: digital single-lens reflex, DSLR.
One could also argue that for overall flexibility, ease of use and quality of results the SLR has never really been surpassed and that (as far as such a thing is possible) in this design we see photography perfected. Of course pictures are made by photographers, the camera being only a tool, but after its invention more professional photographers chose this kind than any other.
Our photography correspondent writes:
This time I’m singling out a type of camera that, while instantly recognizable and quite common in the days of film, was never ubiquitous. Most people preferred other kinds. But those who used them were very firmly attached to them and had definitely chosen them over whatever else might be on the market. This type found a particular home, among professional photographers, with those who specialized in portraits and fashion shoots.
This design is called the twin-lens reflex (TLR if you’re advertising to sell or buy one in the cost-per-word section of the photo magazine). “Reflex,” when used about cameras, means that there’s a mirror involved somewhere. “Twin lens” is obviously appropriate. But why twin lenses? It’s not a stereo or a panorama camera, a kind that takes two pictures at once. Well, the short answer is you need one lens to keep an eye on what the other is doing.
Our photography consultant writes:
What most often strikes people now about this camera is the “retro” styling. What strikes the person called to operate it, however, especially someone used to simple things like the Brownie, are the controls. You can adjust the focus from about three feet to infinity; you can set the exposure to squint into the desert sun or gather the glimmer of late twilight, or anywhere in between. (Our astronomer has used the camera for exposures of twenty minutes!) These two controls may not sound like much, but suddenly you have enormous creative control in your hands. There’s also a remarkably good lens; add some versatile 35mm film and there is hardly anything a photographer cannot do.
The downside (and there is always a downside) is that you may not be a photographer, or at least not feel like one. There is no “automatic” or “program” mode in this Agfa: you have to set the focus and exposure yourself. There are things to help you, though, and ways to get decent results even if your photographic ambitions are modest.