I recently watched a TV programme that featured an artist who was using his considerable talents and skills to carve uniquely Irish designs into stone and local slate. He was essentially creating — or crafting — works of art that would, he believed, last beyond his lifetime. He wondered if someday, possibly a thousand years from now, someone would unearth one of his ornate handmade carvings.
His hard work and vision brought home to me, once again, the immense value of crafted and gifted image-creation as opposed to the more casual shooting that’s typically the fun part of photography. Yes, fun’s good, but it largely bypasses the spirit of honed photographic expression. In the richest vein of artistic expression we always find intelligent planning, expertise, discipline and vision. The reward is significant — even for dedicated amateurs. It’s lasting and deeply satisfying.
In the right hands — because technique and vision matter — any modern camera and a few lenses are all that’s needed for successful creative photography. Add a tripod and a couple of useful filters and you can explore other techniques. Get your images into good software and you’re possibly well on your way to producing some eye-catching and evocative images.
But here’s the thing. Not everybody has an eye for image content that comes together effectively within the frame. So what’s going on here? Can we be taught the right way too see? Is it something we can learn? Possibly not.
Thinking about how things look in the frame before the shutter button is pressed can make all the difference to your images. And sometimes it needs to be done very quickly. A zoom lens is very useful but, as the cliché rightly goes, it shouldn’t replace your legs. Try telephoto and more extreme wide-angle to extend your creativity.
Think about the elements throughout the frame — people, furniture, mountains, structures. Use other elements, like overhanging trees, to frame the main subject. Think about what angle best suits the main subject. You may not want to position a person bang-on centre — it may not work.
But hold on! This advice sounds like the textbook version of The Theory of Good Composition! Over the years I’ve asked myself, Shouldn’t this stuff come naturally?
It’s almost guaranteed that any textbook-related essay on composition will include a comment along these lines: “Of course these rules on composition can be broken.” This should leave us wondering if there is an inherent contradiction in such teaching. How can we be taught constructive rules that can be broken so easily and regularly whenever the creative urge takes us? “You should do it this way, but really, you don’t have to…”
Some are convinced that true compositional awareness in creative photography happens in your gut as you look through the viewfinder at the elements that make up the scene. Arnold Newman said it well: “There are no rules and regulations for perfect composition… You have to compose by the seat of your pants.” And Bill Brandt believed that “Composition is important but… is largely a matter of instinct…” Perhaps Alberto Korda got the overall balance right when he defined the essence of photography: “If my students talk about the technical side of photography, I tell them it’s not about that. You can learn to operate a camera and work in the darkroom and still be mediocre. What you have to do is to take photographs which create an emotion within you.”
Jay Maisel had this to say about composition: “When I talk to my students I don’t call anything composition. I think that’s pretentious, to say you’re composing something. You’re not. It’s out there. All you’re doing is framing it and taking that piece of random chaos and making order out of it, or making it more chaotic, depending upon what you want. Everybody approaches it in a different way.”
Maisel understood that “The act of seeing is the moment of fun.” But he realised too that while we might see a special moment, we aren’t always able to capture it. We may not even have our cameras with us!
It all happens in the frame. Frames are different shapes in which the visual elements have to be arranged. Pictures that appear in CD booklets (does anyone buy CDs anymore? You might if sound quality matters to you) are square, so framing and composition can take that into account, perhaps coming from a cropped original. Some cameras are designed around that format, but typically hobbyists’ SLRs and mirrorless cameras capture a rectangular 3:2-shaped image. But you can change that.
Because it’s so subjective, is it fair to ask if composition is in fact a teachable subject? In teaching composition are we merely trying to impose creative choices that should already be finding expression through an inner gift — the individual’s ability to see? The ‘why’ of composition — learning all those so-called rules — is a poor second to creative instinct. Yes, visual harmony, or a chaotic lack of it, can be copied from literature or online videos, but the truly creative mind sees its own distinctive possibilities and arrangements within each scene that passes through the lens.
OK, I’m a total amateur. But even so, I often question if photographic composition should be taught. Even vague guidelines or suggestions are something of an imposition. Rather, I’m confident that the natural gifting some have can be invoked and enlivened through inspiration and appreciation. One way to experience this is by soaking up how other photographers have composed their images. Allow them to visually impact you. We can also find an inner resonance with the work of film directors. Some black and white films from the 40s and 50s are visually superb. Clearly many scenes have been thought through meticulously to create crafted compositions.
It would be wrong to mechanically copy a particular photographer’s style, but enjoying the compositional creativity of others is very motivational. If we can see in an image what the photographer saw, appreciating why he or she captured it that way, it will inspire us to uniquely explore and express our own gift. It’s an exciting prospect far removed from textbook exactness.
Are you familiar with the work of Ansel Adams? I’d bet you are or you wouldn’t be here. In 1932 he captured the image Rock and Grass, Moraine Lake. It’s certainly not one of his inspirational best but nevertheless it illustrates his wonderful vision very well. At first glance it seems not a lot is happening but then we should notice that the main rock mirrors the mountain reflection that fills the space on the lake. This is a good example of compositional skills, albeit in an average shot that will set you back $100 or more if you want a copy hanging on your wall.
The Craft of Photography
Let’s be honest about this. Attention to detail is the proof of photographic discipline. Unless we get lucky, the desire to be artistically creative will find fulfilment in our enterprising images only. Awareness is key. Conscientious artists don’t step back from doing their best simply because they know some of those who look at their work won’t be able to appreciate the vision and variety of skills involved. Not everybody’s opinion is valuable. Even humble dedicated amateurs must rise above that.
Everywhere we go we find buckets of photography for the masses. Then there’s the more serious, creative photography for dedicated enthusiasts and individualistic professionals. If we want to create something meaningful in the frame we have to take into account where the various elements fall — we must arrange them to inject creativity into our images.
This happens when we instinctively ‘see’ all that we have to work with.
Like just about every other subject under the sun, we can get ourselves bogged down in the science, theory, ideology, philosophy and the gearhead obsessions of photography. Occasionally it’s an interesting ride — occasionally… But after all the reading, writing and migraine-inducing analytical study surely it still comes down to this, and only this:
- Enthusiasts must know their equipment inside-out.
- They must sense what goes where in the frame.
- The craft of photography is the bringing together of practical training and creative vision.
Overall, a simple concept.
But don’t let it end there. When we get the content of the frame and the exposure sorted out we can take the raw image (which may be a JPEG by the way) into software and make the very best use of all the tones we have captured, if we need to. We can manipulate the image in a way that best suits the subject. This is much the same as the classical art of black and white darkroom technique.
In the old days a good negative — colour or B&W — was the starting point. Today, an appropriately exposed digital file can be subtly manipulated to produce what we have in mind — a reasonable representation of what we saw and felt at the time. Others may not like it, but it’s our work.
Are you a photographer who feels now is the time to push your hobby a bit further? If so, try to develop your skill through your vision. Work steadily until photographic expression becomes a craft that’s much more than an interesting record of personal events and travels abroad. That’s where the real reward is to be found.
See also: LOSE THE DEAD SHOTS