Something as seemingly trivial as getting a new camera has brought me to a profound realization: Approaching photography as a form of expression and not merely as a means of documenting an event or occasion is far more complicated than it may seem at first. When I first started getting to know my DSLR I was shooting for some, in my opinion, rather silly reasons. It seemed that I was on a mission to create glossy, glitzy, surreal looking shots that really carried little to no real meaning. Other than a "wow thats a cool picture," they were forgettable. I honestly went completely snap crazy my first week. I snagged any chance I could to use my shiny new toy. And while I produced some somewhat decent photographs, I'd have to say that any real thought they provoke on the part of the viewer is probably an accident.
Take this shot for instance:
I've gotten a lot of compliments on it (Thank you) but it says absolutely NOTHING. Well nothing except "Here's the Atlanta skyline." And thats it. I realized when I was processing this shot that I didn't want to just be constantly spouting shiny multi-colored night shots for people's desktops. I was suddenly totally bored with my picture. I put it on my flickr page simply because I felt it was part of my growth process, part of the journey, and technically I guess it wasn't half bad.
The point is that this shot has been done millions of times by millions of people, and certainly much better than I did it.
So my first baby step is that I've learned to look at my camera not as a toy, but as a tool. I didn't buy a DSLR to take "Awesome Pictures," I bought it to give myself total control over every aspect of every shot I take (something no point and shoot digital really offers)...And from there I will hopefully grow.
Additionally I've been soaking up anyone's work that I can, getting as much exposure to other people's pictures as possible. I feel thats important, because while having your own style is essential, having influences is what makes your style especially interesting, especially unique. I've noted that some of my favorite photographs, the ones that strike me the most, are not the glitzy, vividly colored ones, but the ones that are slightly overexposed, grainy, black and white....not what most people would call a "good picture." However, these pictures invariably make me feel something very definite, whether it be desolation, joy, or whether they just tilt your view of what makes a good photo for a split second. This makes every time I pick up my camera a total adventure.
In this vein, I've focused on the feeling that a photograph gives you, the viewer, and how I can bring that feeling in alignment with what I was thinking when I clicked the shutter. This is in contrast to the bright colors and Wow factor and aiming my camera at just "what looks cool." Its also narcissistic...but what artform isn't at least a little? *shrug* I'll allow it.
The photo I've posted along with this entry is hopefully a step in that direction. Its a photo that anybody could very easily take the same way I did with any old camera. Extreme sharpness and vivid color are not the point here. I deliberately used a higher ISO to make it a tad grainy and allow a faster shutter to make the lines and shapes as hard as possible. Beyond the technical details, I had my reasons behind the picture, but in keeping with the trend of trying to align the impressions of the viewer with my own intentions I'll let you draw your own conclusions.
Continuing further with this idea.... A small camera shop up the street from my apartment sells these little plastic cameras made by a company called Holga that cost about 20 bucks. They use their own proprietary type of film format, and have built in, fixed focal length lenses with simply horrible optics. They let in light through the cracks in the plastic body (usually a cardinal sin), and have manual shutters with no sort of onboard electronics at all. They don't even use batteries. And in the right hands they produce absolutely incredibly powerful photographs. The shop owner has a collection of incredibly valuable vintage 35mm and large format cameras in his own gear cache but he maintains that his Holga is one of his favorite pieces of gear. It encourages him to throw away all the rules and shoot "from the hip," which he says he can't bring himself to do on his vintage Nikon. These things have been heralded as the saviors of photography, which may very well be true.
From the Holga Website:
"The unassuming Holga is here to save you from a future of digital pixels and images shared on small screens on cameras or phones. We have all become numbed with photography, there is no denying it, but a chunky camera made almost entirely of plastic has been put on this Earth to save us. It will reawaken your vision, fill you with joy, make you see beauty when you thought it had disappeared forever, and bring out sunshine on a cloudy day."
Holga WebsiteSo did I buy a 500 dollar camera to take a bunch of low res, washed out pictures? No. But its nice to have to option. :)
