This is a post with several reflections on photography. I thought I would do it this way rather than write several separate articles (too much) or not write anything (too little).
Morten Krogvoll
Since Morten Krogvoll is a fellow Norwegian, I thought I would start with him. I love that his combines soulfulness and a visceral rawness with technical excellence. It’s the best of both worlds.
In terms of prints, he goes deep into the blacks while also retaining detail there. That’s something I would like to explore more.
Daido Moriyama
Daido Moriyama‘s photos have a passion and rawness that’s perfectly matched by perfect technical imperfections. He is unapologetic in following his passions and what intrigues him.
Masahisa Fukase
Mashahisa Fukase gained recent viral fame for having photographed his wife leaving for work in the 1970s, documenting their deteriorating marriage. He is also known for his Ravens book and series.
He is another unapologetic and passionate Japanese photographer I can learn a lot from.
Fan Ho
Fan Ho walked the streets of Hong Kong and took photos that rival the best paintings in composition. He also revisited some elements as in the two above.
Josef Sudek
Similar to Fan Ho, Josef Sudek mostly photographed his own familiar neighborhood. I love the silence and the poetic quality of his photos.
Hengki Koentjoro
Hengki Koentjoro is a contemporary photographer who combines much of the best of the others. There is an obvious technical skill here, and I love his photos for the light, the surprises, and the sense of immediacy. He captures fleeting moments.
Fredrik Axling
Fredrik Axling is a contemporary Swedish photographers, mostly known for his street photography.
Edvard Munch
Edvard Munch is obviously most known for his paintings, but he also experimented with photography.
Documentaries & Films
I asked AI for documentaries and films about photographers on my list. See below.
The Salt of the Earth — Sebastião Salgado
Probably the essential one. A full documentary by Wim Wenders and Juliano Ribeiro Salgado, built around Salgado’s life, his major human/documentary projects, and later ecological work. Since you love Salgado deeply, this is the first one I’d watch. (sonyclassics.com)
In No Great Hurry: 13 Lessons in Life with Saul Leiter — Saul Leiter
A quiet, intimate film with Leiter in old age, surrounded by his photographs, boxes, memories, and modesty. It should fit your interest in soft city color, rain, windows, visual poetry, and the photographer’s way of being. (Saul Leiter Foundation)
Ravens — Masahisa Fukase
Not a documentary, but a biographical drama about Fukase, his wife Yoko, obsession, love, loss, and the making of Ravens / The Solitude of Ravens. Since you like Fukase’s style, this is very relevant even if it is dramatized. (Minded Films)
Michael Kenna | Photographer — Michael Kenna
A short artist documentary by David Freydt. It follows Kenna through themes you care about: atmospheric B&W, minimalism, long exposure, night photography, Hokkaido, and the poetic use of space. (The Darkroom Rumour)
What Remains: The Life and Work of Sally Mann — Sally Mann
Feature-length documentary by Steven Cantor about Mann at her Virginia farm, her family, the South, mortality, controversy, and the merging of life and work. Very relevant to your interest in soulful, personal, imperfect, embodied photography. (The Darkroom Rumour)
Also worth watching…
Blood Ties: The Life and Work of Sally Mann — Sally Mann
A shorter earlier documentary, focused around Immediate Family and the controversy surrounding Mann’s photographs of her children. It was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Documentary Short. (IMDb)
Harry Gruyaert, Photographer — Harry Gruyaert
A documentary about Gruyaert’s life and his discovery of color, travel, Belgium, loneliness, and his role as a European pioneer of color photography. This one should fit your color/rain/city/solitude branch. (Harry Gruyaert Film)
Ansel Adams: A Documentary Film — Ansel Adams
Ric Burns’ PBS / American Experience documentary, made for the centennial of Adams’ birth. Good for understanding Adams not just technically, but as a landscape, conservation, and American West figure. (PBS)
The Past is Always New, the Future is Always Nostalgic: Photographer Daido Moriyama — Daidō Moriyama
A documentary following Moriyama and the revival of one of his legendary photobooks. More urban, raw, and restless than your deepest preferences, but important if you want to understand the Japanese B&W branch around Fukase. (MUBI)
Memories of Origin: Hiroshi Sugimoto — Hiroshi Sugimoto
Follows Sugimoto over 200 days, across photography, architecture, installation, studio work, and performance-related projects. It may appeal to your metaphysical/minimalist side more than your emotional/Fukase side. (distribution.arte.tv)
SALT — Murray Fredericks
A 28-minute documentary about Murray Fredericks’ repeated solo journeys to Lake Eyre / Kati Thanda to make the Saltseries. This is very relevant to your interest in emptiness, horizon, negative space, and endurance in landscape work. (murrayfredericksphotography.com.au)
Morten Krogvold film series — Morten Krogvold
Not a standard feature documentary, but Meet World Photographers lists a three-part film series with Krogvold, including sections on portrait presence and a “Requiem” meditation involving light, long exposure, rain, loss, and beauty. (meet world photographers)
Finding Vivian Maier — Vivian Maier
Feature documentary about the discovery of Maier’s huge archive and the mystery of her life as a nanny who secretly made remarkable street photographs. Oscar-nominated for Best Documentary Feature. (Official film page)
Short / episode-style pieces
Contacts: Hiroshi Sugimoto — Hiroshi Sugimoto
Part of the Contacts photography series, where photographers discuss their work through contact sheets/proofs/final prints. ARTE describes Contacts as a collection of films about contemporary photography, with an episode on Hiroshi Sugimoto. (distribution.arte.tv)
Daido Moriyama: Near Equal / Stray Dog of Tokyo — Daidō Moriyama
A harder-to-find documentary often recommended under the title Near Equal Daido Moriyama or Stray Dog of Tokyo. I’d treat this as secondary to The Past is Always New…, but it may be worth searching for. (streethunters.net)
Real, not perfect
Technical perfection and mastery has its place, of course. I love the photos of Ansel Adams and others who mastered the technology.
At the same time, and especially as the technical aspect becomes more and more a given, we long for soulfulness and authenticity. We love the imperfect.
There is more than enough room for both in the world, and some photographers are able to do both at the same time.
Chiaroscuro
Chiaroscuro – light and dark – refers to an emphasis of sculpting form with light and dark. Typically, the light comes from one side and the rest of the space is dark. This is a characteristic of especially baroque painting.
I love that sense of the form emerging from the dark and with lost edges, edges of the form partially melting into the background. Many use it in portrait photography today as well.
It’s also something that belongs more to a certain time and place. The reason they painted like that wasn’t only aesthetically or to explore something new. It was because the light they had available for painting and drawing encouraged it. The studio – and rooms in general – may have had one relatively small window and the interiors often had dark colors. So the physical conditions created chiaroscuro effects which was then reflected in the paintings and drawings.
These days, we have more and larger windows, white walls and ceilings, and artificial light, so there is a lot more light bouncing around. We are used to – and draw, paint, and take photos in – very different light conditions.
This comes up for me since I would like to take more chiaroscuro portraits, and it’s difficult to find the right conditions for it. I most likely have to create it with curtains, dark sheets, and so on.
Note: Tenebrism is a more dramatic version of chiaroscuro, and this is where you are more likely to have lost edges etc.
I took these photos in a found chiaroscuro space – a large basement in a house on Gabriola island. The light came in from one small window, and there was an equivalent window on the on far side giving some fill-in light. In the future, I would like to explore this combined with shadows falling on the person, and different kinds of light sources. Ideally, in found spaces.
The top image is of a painting by Caravaggio in the National Gallery in London, taken when I was there in March.
Long exposure photography
This is a good intro to long exposure photography. I have done it off and on since my teens, and want to explore it more again.
Some ideas from the photographers he mentions:
Cityscapes. Daylight exposure over several minutes erase people, cars, and movement. Optional: Edit back in some people. Lucie & Simon, Silent World.
Masses of people. Exposure over a few seconds creates the shapes of masses of people moving close together. Alexey Titarenko, City of Shadows.
Moonlit landscapes. Can appear as daylight but eerie. Darren Almond.
Boost night colors. Selectively boosting some night colors can create an eerie sci-fi feel. Henri Prestes.
Capture bioluminescence. Capture bioluminescence otherwise invisible to the human eye. Juergen Freund, Mushroom Magic. (There may be mushrooms like that on Finca Milagros.)
And some other common ways to use longer exposure:
Shape of water. Capture the shape of moving water without the ripples. (E.g. a river captured over seconds or minutes.)
Moving clouds. Building and landscape is still, and the clouds move during the exposure.
Rain as lines. Capture rain as bright lines.
Wind in vegetation. Capture the wind in vegetation – trees, flowers, grass.
Shadows of moving plants. Capture the shadows of moving plants, maybe against a wall.
Densify fog and mist. Fog and mist become brighter during longer exposure.
Physical work. Capture the movement of physical work. Face is clear while hands are blurred.
A guide for myself
As a plan for myself, I can…
Find a few quality YouTube channels, like Vermont Center for Photography.
Watch documentaries about photographers, like The Salt of the Earth and Finding Vivian Maier.
Study a good a photographer or an interesting photo book for a while. (Ravens is high on my list.)
Read and listen to interviews with good photographers that go more in-depth in the process, or videos of visits to their studio.
Do focused photo exercises.
Do edits of small batches, maybe 10 or 20 selected photos of a much larger collection.
Periodic small prints.
Develop series over time.
Getting to know my new camera
It’s July 14 and I received my new camera this evening – a Nikon Z6III.
This is one of the first photos I took with it, with the 105mm macro lens. I think we may get along well.
The image is unedited and directly from the camera. In this uploaded version, I see some artifacts since it’s a compressed jpeg.
I did some night photography in the neighborhood to get familiar with the new camera equipment. These are unedited.
My first experiment with focus stacking, which wasn’t automated on my old camera. This is the unedited result. It seems almost hyperrealistic with all parts of the flower in focus and the blurred background. It’s not something we see with our eyes or normal photography. In editing, I would likely soften parts of the plant, especially some edges.
Inevitability
Remarkable art often has a sense of inevitability. It feels like it has always been there and has been uncovered or discovered. It feels like it can’t be any other way.
Some music by Arvo Pärt has that inevitability, as has some of the best music in general along with paintings, photos, literature, dance, and so on.
The best photos of some of the best photographers has that sense of inevitability.
In Morten Krogvoll’s portrait photo above, there is a sense that nothing is out of place. It all belongs. Every little thing fits perfectly into the whole and work with every other little thing.
It’s good for me to keep in mind when I am out with my camera and also edit my own photos. And it’s good to keep in mind that much or most of what even the best artists make do not have that senes of inevitability! It happens now and then and often as the result of years of dedicated practice, learning, and exploration combined with everything coming together in the moment.
Sculpting light
I always knew that Morten Krogvoll is an exceptional photographer, and the more I look at his photos, the more impressed I am.
In these examples, he is sculpting with light. He is emphasizing the three-dimensional forms, likely with a good amount of dodging and burning. He makes the dark areas velvety dark while still maintaining details. He emphasizes tactile textures and local contrast. He also maintains velvety soft transitions.
That’s the result of decades of dedication and time in the darkroom.
Most photographers, even good ones, would be satisfied with a much easier solution.
Creating shape & space
What are some of the ways we get a sense of shape and space?
SHAPE
Planes form shape and planes facing different directions are lit differently.
Lines and textures often follow the shape.
What’s further away has less detail and contrast, becomes more fuzzy, and so on.
SPACE
Textures are more clear the closer they are.
Contrasts are sharper and stronger in the foreground.
There are more details in what’s close.
Landscapes become more hazy and get a blu tint in the distance.
Perspective makes what’s close larger than what’s further away.
What’s in front overlaps what’s further away.
There is often a difference in lighting between what’s close and further away. What’s close may be light while the background is dark or the other way around.
NATURAL & CAN BE MADE USE OF
These are naturally found in vast landscapes and they can also be intentionally used in much smaller and miniature scenes.
Exploring B&W versions
VERSION 1
This is my initial B&W edit of the focus merging image. It lacks much of what makes Krogvoll’s images so good. It’s more flat and grey. It lacks contrast in the details. It’s not sculpted. The main problem with it is the flat light, but I also want to explore and see what I can bring out of it.
Of course, there is no one right way to do this. It all depends on what we resonate with. Mine is softer and more lyrical, and that’s partly because of the light of the scene and maybe it’s also just my style. And still, I want to learn more about what makes Krogvoll’s images so exceptional, and I learn by doing.
As I continue exploring this image, I plan on using layers for curves, textures, and more with masks, and then paint the layers into the image. That’s similar to dodging and burning in print photography. I want to use it to make more clear planes, to bring out some lighter details in the dark areas, and bring out the texture in the parts of the plant closer to us.
VERSION 2
This is the beginnings of a more intentional version. I have cropped it in the way that’s more interesting to me. It highlights what I find interesting in the image. I have also darkened it a bit overall, painted in texture in some of the leaves, brought up some of the details in the dark, and painted in some light to shape some of the petals and leaves. It’s closer to something interesting but still a little dull. I may want to go further in the same direction. Can I make it seem more inevitable?
Also, what do I want to emphasize? What does this image ask for? In this case, it’s the swoops out from a center, the texture and details in the dark areas, and the geometry and negative spaces.
I want to start with visualizing how I want it to be, and then make that happen.
Again, a limitation here is the flat light of the initial image. Also, in this closer crop, some of the artifacts from the focus stacking process are also more obvious.
VERSION 3
I am sure some would be able to edit this image so it looks better, but for me, I am more aware of the limitations in the original image. The light is a little too flat and the composition – the organization of the petals and leaves – is a little chaotic and not as clear as I would like. I am happy about getting a kind of velvety black feel to it, but that’s about it. I used mostly curves and texture layers with inverted masks (so the default is no change) to paint in light, dark, and texture.
As before, I am more aware of the artifacts of the focus stacking process, and I don’t like the weird light part of the petal in the middle left. I am happy with the crop, and – as I mentioned – the approximation of a velvety black feel. I have learned something from working on this image and that was my main aim.
I decided to make a version I viscerally like more. I cropped it so the interesting area is highlighted, and I continued to dodge and burn to create shape and movement. I also cleaned up the one part that was blown out. As I mentioned above, I did the “dodge and burn” using curves and texture layers, inverted masks, and painting in the lightening, darkening, and texture.
Although it doesn’t feel inevitable, it does have some interest.
What do I hope to get out of photography?
What’s my aim with getting more back into photography?
The simple answer is that I love and enjoy it. It’s a childlike joy that feels good to bring up in my life.
Another answer is Finca Milagros and Barichara. I love the land and would like to document it, how I experience it, and how it changes over time as it’s now protected and we are regenerating it – at least as resources allow.
Yet another is that I would like to see what comes out of it. I am curious, know I will be surprised, and I like that surprise.
I am also hoping to stretch myself. To put myself in my own photography school, put some intention into it, and go beyond what’s familiar to me. I am interested in seeing how that goes too.
It’s also a way to share my world and view with others, to contribute to the human experience and culture as we all do in different ways. That’s not a big part of it, although it would be fun to eventually have a local exhibit or make a photo book.
Ultimately, I don’t know. As with anything else, that’s the most honest answer, and I like the mystery of it.
This too is life living its life. This too is life expressing, exploring, and experiencing itself in always new ways. Any human ideas of meaning, purpose, or aim are just foam on the top of the waves of that ocean, and means about as much. And that very human sense of meaning, purpose, and aim is also part of life expressing, experiencing, and exploring itself.
How to study an image
How can I learn from looking at the work of excellent photographers? Or photographers I especially resonate with?
One side is to just take it in and look at a lot of good photography and visual art in general.
Another is to explore images more intentionally.
What feeling or atmosphere does the image bring up in me? What in it creates that feeling or atmosphere? What would need to change for that to shift or go away? What deletions would make it go away?
Where does my eye go? How does my eye move around the image? Why? What does it follow? What draws it? Where does it stay? Where does it return?
Would it draw my attention if I saw it across a room? What in it would draw my attention?
What keeps my interest? Why do I want to spend time with it? (Assuming it’s a good photo I want to keep looking at.)
What’s the tonal range? Where in the range is/are the emphasis? How are the transitions? Where are the brightest areas and the darkest shadows?
What are the textures? Details?
What are the lines and the flow?
How are forms shaped? How is a sense of space created? (Or not, if the reverse is the case.)
How does it create negative space? Negative space is any space created between forms, including branches etc.
Is it layered? What are the layers?
Does it feel inevitable? What makes it feel inevitable?
How is it likely worked on in the darkroom? (Whether physical or digital.) How much is it likely worked on? How different is it likely from the original?
How does it capture the moment? (If it does.)
How does it capture light? (If it does.)
How did the photographer likely be at the right time and place? Did s/he seek out a situation, place, or time? What work likely went before it? How much time? How much travel?
If it’s studio work, what work is likely behind it? Lighting? Setup? Explorations?
Either/or vs both/and mentality in visual art
I watched a YouTube video about black and white photography, and the person made a repeated point of how b&w photos are somehow “better” than color.
When I was in the art world in my late teens and early twenties, I ran into a similar either/or mindset quite frequently.
It’s one of the many things in the world that baffles me a bit. Why set them up against each other?
In this case, b&w and color photos are different and have different roles and purposes. Both can be beautiful and exceptional when done well. It’s not either/or, it’s both/and.
It’s like an ecosystem. Everything has its role, niche, and place in the world. Together, they make the world – and my world! – richer.
Of course, the either/or mindset also has its place and niche, and that one too makes the world richer. If I get baffled by it, that makes my world richer! It’s part of the richness of my world, and it invites me to explore a little further.
Footnote: How do I explore it? For instance, I ask myself: How and when do I do the same? Do I reject the either/or mindset? How would it be for me to switch into a both/and mindset instead? Or, how would it be to consciously embrace my either/or mindset when it comes up, knowing it’s partial? Also, why do I sometimes go into an either/or mindset? Is it to feel more safe? To tell myself that I know? To support a familiar or desired identity for myself?
The zone system
When I started learning about photography in my teens, I discovered and loved the photos of Ansel Adams and I also got all the books by him I could get hold of through the bookstores in Oslo. One of the things he emphasized was the zone system.
These days, when I am starting to explore photography again, I have come across photographers saying: Learn the zone system and then discard it. You get more interesting photos without it. (For an example, see the video I referred to in the previous post.)
Based on the context, they seem to assume that the zone system is prescriptive and tells you to emphasize each zone equally, or that each zone needs to be populated. This is either a surprisingly basic misunderstanding or it’s an intentional straw man argument for clicks.
As I understand it, the zone system is a way to think about tonal range, and – for traditional film and print photography – a way to make sure you capture and can print the tonal range you have visualized.
In my case, I keep the zones in the back of my mind when I work on my own photos and I use it to think about which zones I want to emphasize. Maybe an image works better if it’s heavy towards the dark zones? Maybe it works better if some zones are minimized or left out?
Ansel Adams himself did that. Although he valued capturing transitions and tonal nuances (which was his preference and not inherent in the zone system), he often heavily emphasized some zones over others.
The zone system is not prescriptive. It certainly does not say we should emphasize each zone equally or even populate each zone. What it does is give us a way to more intentionally work with the tonal range.
And for traditional film and print photography, which is still very much a part of contemporary photography, it’s extremely helpful for making sure we capture and can print the tonal range we aim for, whatever that may be.
The Wikipedia article on the zone system puts it nicely: “… Adams made it clear that the Zone System was an enabling technique rather than the ultimate objective.”
Know enough to know roughly where I am
In learning anything, one of the most important things is to know roughly where we are in the process, what we don’t know, and how to learn more.
In photography, I know I am at a decent amateur level – someone who if familiar with the basics of the technical and visual sides. I recognize good photography and visual art when I see it. I also recognize exceptional images, although I am not there myself, and it gives me a good direction.
My photos are often a bit tame, which is partly because I have used a snapshot mentality to taking photos since I abandoned my photo ambitions in my mid-twenties.
I know that to improve, I need to put more effort into every aspect of photography: Studying those I resonate with. Seeking out places and times that give me interesting visuals. Explore options outside of my default when I take photos. Visualize the finished image while I am taking photos. Editing more intentionally and sculpting the images in the digital darkroom.
I also know that, as anyone, I operate from biases and internalized culture and subcultures. That’s not a problem. It’s how we are able to function and there is a beauty in the partial views that come from it. And it’s also good to recognize.
This image is very simple and I didn’t spend much time editing it. I mainly just cropped it from a larger photo and did some basic b&w editing and sculpting. I still like it. There is a lot in it for me.
I love the aliveness and presence of the animal. I love how it’s standing in the materials of its making. I love the lighter area at the bottom from a reflection in the window. I love how the square behind the deer creates a kind of frame even if it’s much smaller than the animal. I love the little hint of something on the left side. I love how the image is slightly mysterious and even unnerving, largely from the uncanny aliveness of the deer.
I love how my eye goes from the eye and face to the horns to the body to the scraps to the eye and face and so on.
Moving beyond the immediately familiar
How can I move beyond the familiar when I take photos?
First, let’s take the obvious photo so that’s out of the way.
Then….
Move closer and further away. Change height subtly or radically.
Photograph relationships rather than objects/subjects.
Wait for something to bring in something new.
Make an image that feels wrong.
…..
Composition
There are all kinds of ideas about visual compositions, and they are descriptive.
They are attempts by our mind to explain why we feel a composition is good, or interesting, or gets a feeling or mood across well. They happen in hindsight.
I suspect we all have an innate sense of good compositions. Like everything else, some of us may have it more than others, and it can be trained.
And there is an enormous variety of good compositions. There will always be yet another way, and yet another way, and something we may not have seen exactly that way before.
To take a prescriptive approach to this is to hamper and cage in our innate sense of composition.