What is the vital ingredient of an exceptional
photograph? What is it in an outstanding, memorable image that makes visually
literate viewers sit up and take note? What singular aspect, component or
element of a photograph can make our minds respond with a "PING!", a
signal from our consciousness that says "this is it, this is unique, this
is just perfect"?
As makers of photographs and as viewers of images,
we all probably guard and defend our all-time favourite photographs (captured
by others or ourselves) against the opinions of fellow photographers or the
public. We differ too in the selection of images that we would consider as
iconic. Should we be pressed though, we would probably concede that there is a
particular ingredient in a successful photographic image that lifts it well
above the average snap. While some of this eclecticism lies almost certainly in
the realm of cult status surrounding a few photographers (the "It is great
because P. H. Otto Graf took it" syndrome), there does seem to be that
something that some photographers can add to their work, at least occasionally,
that allows us, the viewers, to react with a resounding "PING!".
These questions, dealing with memorable image
creation rather than the mere documentation of visual instances, have occupied
me for decades now, both as an active photographer and as a viewer of images
published by fellow photographers. When I started out in photography almost five decades ago, I read a plethora of magazine articles and books on the
subject of photography. Some were anti-photography, claiming that a
photographic image was just a document, and claiming too, that the
ever-increasing flood of images in the media was detrimental to the development
of an educated visual literacy. At the other extreme, many texts were
partisanly pro-photography, claiming the photographer as a new age artist and
guru. Most, of course, were 'how to' books or articles, ranging in value from
mediocre to outstanding.
Over the years, my own ideas on photography have
evolved, changing from an obsession with the mastering of the techniques
employed to the exploration of that all-consuming and most elusive of
characteristics, the development and achievement of a personal style. More
important than reading, I actively sought out images, looking intensely at any
and all photographs from different genres. This engagement with the work of
other photographers was of invaluable importance in my own development as a
taker of images. And it was this activity, still pursued today, that gave me a
clue to that most valuable ingredient in a successful image: intention.
What about light, composition, framing and
selection, depth-of-field, colour, texture, line, pattern, rhythm, I hear you
shout - a photograph cannot exist without these elements? I agree. But, these
are all visual elements, tools as it were, employed to enhance the impact of
the image on the imagination of the viewer. What crystallises out of an impressive
image though is more than the sum of the tools employed by the photographer. A
memorable image will be composed of one or more objects arranged in a
deliberate way and accentuated or de-emphasised by the photographer employing
several visual elements or techniques, but, above all, a memorable photograph
will broadcast the photographers intention of capturing this particular
composite and not another. The techniques, the tools, the design basics, by
themselves, can not constitute a photograph.
As an over-simplified example of what I am
expressing, take the following comment on a photograph: "I love the
DOF." My immediate response to this is "Why?". Is the use of
depth-of-field as simple as isolating the subject from the background or
achieving hyperfocal depth-of-field in landscapes? Surely not. If the image is
of a white sphere against a blurred purple background, most people can only
respond with a confused (possibly bemused) facial expression. The next response
is, of course, "What is it?", "Why was this image
captured?", "What does the image mean?" Obviously this example
is over-simplified. So let us add some leading lines (of a golden colour) and a
second, smaller, pink sphere to add the illusion of depth. I think most people
would still be left scratching their scalps. The elements of design, even in
complicated arrangements, can only ever give rise to a graphic. This may be
beautiful, but it is essentially empty of meaning, it lacks intention.
Outstanding photographers produce memorable images
when they communicate their intention through a combination of subject matter
and careful composition of the image. (I use the term composition here in its
most expansive sense, including framing of the scene plus the use of any visual
elements employed to enhance effective communication.) When you confront
serious photographers with the question "Why did you capture this
image?", the answer will not only be "Because I thought it was
beautiful" or "I wanted a picture to capture this moment". There
will always be another, an additional aspect that the photographer wished to
express. The intention may involve an intricate set of ideas and thought
processes or it may be as simple as needing to capture a moment so that it can
be remembered. And we all know that memory is intentional - we remember an
instant with pleasure or remorse, with joy or sadness, with delight or horror.
Memories are brought into consciousness with intent; our memories are
intentional. They appear (and disappear) in a specific context. Our emotions
too are an integral part of human memory; you can never divorce, in a memory,
the function of storage and recall from the feelings and emotions that a
particular memory will evoke. So memories are also evocative.
Thus, for similar reasons, photographs must be
wrought with intention. Similarly too in a photograph, the function of 'storage
and recall' (the process of capturing the image and making it available for
viewing) should not be separable from the possible responses by the viewing
audience. The process of viewing a photograph will be evocative and memorable
if (and only if) the resulting image communicates the photographer's intention
to the viewer and thereby engages the viewer’s imagination. Without this
interplay between the imagination of the photographer and the imagination of
the viewer, the image remains an unintentional snap, a moment in time captured
and stored, an image produced without prodding the audience's minds towards any
further exploration, thought or feeling. That feeling of 'PING!' occurs only
when a photograph has been crafted carefully with intention and, so, invites
and forces the viewer to ponder.
It is always a delight to stumble across a
memorable photograph. There is that instant when I find myself invited into an
image, and from there into the mind of another person, where I start seeing,
hearing, smelling and tasting a fraction of time captured. It is at this point
that my mind responds with a resounding "PING!", and I feel and know
that I am experiencing a great photograph.
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