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I've been thinking more about composition, after some interesting and varied feedback from a previous post. And there is a good chance that this will get a bit messy, so apologies up front. I like to believe that art is subjective, so from one person to another, there is no "correct" way to compose an image. I only know the way that I do it. but I want to understand it better, because I think there is an underlying system of rules that apply.
However, I am starting to wonder if art really is entirely subjective, or if part of it adheres to a set of ancient laws hardwired into our genes. How each person interprets a work of art is subjective, but what about its physical properties? The lines, colors, shapes, forms -- that stuff can be measured and described by ratios and equations. It's mathematical.
People have been attempting to understand exactly what makes things visually appealing for thousands of years, going back to the Golden Ratio. Some claim that the Parthenon was built using the magic 1 to 1.61803 number. LeCorbusier was a fan of the Ratio, and incorporated it into his work. He even went so far as to develop his own system of ratios, also based on the Fibonacci Numbers, and DaVinci's Vitruvian Man, called the Modulor, which he described as "range of harmonious measurements to suit the human scale, universally applicable to architecture and to mechanical things." Sounds nice.
Here is what all of these ratio studies look like on paper:
There is something beautiful and soothing about all of these. The proportions just feel right. And they bring order to a world of visual chaos. I guess part of composing images is learning to either see or create these ratios then capture them in a way that maintains their balance.
When I look at a building by Corbu, it makes me happy:
The first photographer that comes to mind as being very, very good at this: Stephen Shore. He is the 14th Degree Black Belt Ninja Master of composition. Take this classic Shore image for instance:
I'm pretty sure this thing is chock full o' Golden Ratios, Pentagrams, Fibonacci numbers, and each car has a Vitruvian Man behind the wheel. Again, it just feels right. Then again, that Chevron sign that's just a bit off center is uncomfortably close to the top edge of the frame, but you are saved by the giant double arrow which pushes you back to the middle of the image. Back in the middle, you are slowly sucked into the background through layers of vintage Americana, which thanks to his 8x10 is in complete focus. If you haven't seen a SS print up close, it's worth the trip to your nearest museum or gallery.
It's a scrumptuous visual feast of composition. But it's not perfectly composed. Although it sort of bends and dances around within the rules. Not to mention the image doesn't really have any particular meaning, which is what Shore is about. He is simply a hunter, gatherer, and curator of ratios, triangles, and fibonacci numbers.
Here is another tasty Signature Shore dish, with several pounds of juicy golden triangles baked right in:
This image resonates with me in a deep, neurological way. Why? I'm not exactly sure. It just does.
Here is another one from Mr. Kander. Why does this work?
Does it work? Yes. Why? No idea.
I love knowing that images are inherently multilingual. They can speak to us in very literal, visual terms, or they can speak in these more complex, cryptic, underlying whispers. So, circling back to my previous post about Places to Drink Beer, and composition, which shot do I like? Although I feel weird putting this image right after Stephen Shore and Nadav Kander, it's this one, hands down:
The balance of the amounts of brick to sidewalk and window feels right. The sun and the orange stripe on the window cut through the middle of the frame, and connect the beer to the trash can. The crack in the sidewalk with the line of brick creates an arrow (golden triangle?) that takes me to the trash can. The wall angles away, which provides some depth and keeps the photo from being too flat, which also makes just enough room to fit an imaginary person, drinking a beer.
Another thing I like about this shot is the tension between the trash can and the beer can. My eyes want to pick up the beer can and throw it away. This is simply the end of a story, where the beginning and middle are open to interpretation. The composition provides a few clues about how that story may look.
This composition stuff is fascinating. Is it really hardwired in our genes? Is this a universal language that deep down all humans (and animals) know? If so, what does that mean for the future of photography? As more and more images are shared around the world, will we become more fluent in this complex, intuitive language?
Mr. Zibert is on a roll. Great post on HMAb about 10 sources of his inspiration.
Every once in a while I'll see an image that is so good it actually causes me physical pain. Case in point, this recent shot by Zibert of Daft Punk for DJ Hero:
It is exquisitely composed, beautifully lit, and technically very difficult to pull off. This is the kind of work I want to do, right here.
I used to keep a big corkboard in my office. On the right side, I would post kick ass work from other people that I liked. On the left side, I would post images that I had done myself. Standing and looking at both sides of the board helps me figure out how to build a bridge from where I am creatively to where I want to be. This blog has effectively taken the place of the board -- it's hard to tack a video or a website to a board.
It's a never ending process, studying the space between where you are, and where you want to be, and slowly building this creative bridge. Sometimes it feels like Philip Seymour Hoffman in Synechdoche, New York. Once you feel like you have built the bridge, and are ready to cross, it's time to tear apart the foundation and make it taller, wider, stronger, and paint it a new color.
Right now, I'm feeling like I want to change the way I work. I want each image I shoot to be one of a kind. I want to spend a week, a month, a year, working on a single image. I want my work to be so good that it actually causes other photographers pain....
On a recent shoot at a beautiful old cabin near a small lake in a remote part of Alabama. The owner's son, about 15 years old, was hanging around the set. He was really shy, and just kind of stood there watching for most of the morning.
Later that day, he brought some of his drawings over to show us. They were amazing illustrations, especially for a high school freshman. This one was my favorite:
Who / what is that, one may ask? Oh, that's AfroLeg. I love AfroLeg. I asked the kid how he came up with the idea, and he said "well I started drawing a leg, then thought that it would be good to have an afro on top of it." I concur 100%.
Unfiltered, untainted, unjaded, and totally confusing creativity is amazing stuff.
After a few days of advertising + editorial meetings in NY, I wrapped up the week with a visit to the PDN Expo to hear a 3 hour Vincent Laforet talk about "Cinematography with a DSLR". The talk dovetailed nicely with the project I worked on a few weeks ago, shooting stills with a documentary crew using two RED Cameras (which will be detailed in a separate post.)
One of the main takeaways from this workshop is that shooting motion is a totally different animal than shooting stills. The gear, ways of seeing, workflow, software, lighting, formats, output, are ALL COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. The common denominator is the camera body - which in this case is a Canon 5d Mark II. But the similarity ends there -- once you decide to shoot video with your DSLR, and have any sort of production value, you are committing to a completely new way of working.
And other people in the video / film worlds have been working at this a lot longer than us still photographers. We do not just pick up a 5D and become a DP, (ASC). Like anything, it takes time, and there is a steep learning curve. Especially now, since many lenses, cables, formats are not compatible. Laforet's Frankencamera, with gear from Red Rock Micro, looks like a risky, technical nightmare. And this one isn't even rigged with a monitor (or two):
Why go through the trouble of making a 5D work? Because it has a huge sensor. It gives a different look that you can only get with big, expensive film cameras + lenses -- shallow depth of field in crispy HD. "Cinematic" is one way to describe it. But the body only weighs a few pounds, versus 100+ pounds for a big ass Arri, Panavision, or even a RED (which is a total hog too -- don't be misled, it takes a big strong person with a good back to move a RED.)
Rock star DP Shane Hurlbut (ASC, mind you) who has shot huge Hollywood features (including Terminator Salvation most recently) is apparently obsessed with the 5D. His blog has a TON of info. Too much to cover here. Anyway, here is another Frankencamera, a Panavision Prime with his 5DMkII:
Ok so after attending this talk, how do I feel about entering the foreign, shifting, messy world of video? I feel like I am starting to understand how I'd like to approach it.
First, Laforet is a massive gear head. He has to be in order to enjoy what he does. He is constantly buying, renting, testing, reviewing new kinds of crazy looking video gear. Camera rigs, remote control helicopters, gyro stabilizers, portable sound recorders, monitors, cable converters, etc. The thought of managing, let alone owning all this stuff makes me cringe. I've spent years honing my gear down to a few lenses and a couple lights with which I can shoot a ton of stuff. The thought of going the other direction is very uanappealing. Especially when just a decent fluid head is $2k+.
One comment he made that has been bothering me was in regard to shooting video by moving the camera (using a dolly, handheld rig, steadicam, frankencam, etc) vs. keeping it still (locked on a tripod.) And that the moving shots are what "separate the men from the boys" and that video shots where the camera doesn't move are "boring."
Of course, this is his opinion. And yes moving shots are cool. But shots where the camera is locked down can be killer too. Check out the work by director Henrik Hansen. The camera never moves. And it's absolutely beautiful. So, Sorry Vincent, I have to disagree with you on that one.
Also, it's important to put all this in perspective w/r/t to what you are shooting for. If I were hired to shoot stills and video on an advertising shoot, I would never try to tackle this on my own with a still crew. It would be career seppuku. Especially if you are working with an AD that is accustomed to working on broadcast. In order to make it work, I'd surround myself with the best people possible, specifically Camera Operators, Gaffers, Grips, etc. When you HAVE to deliver, it's not worth the risk.
Personal work, small editorial jobs, sure -- fire up the HD SLR and shoot away. But be prepared to clear some technical hurdles (sound, constant light sources) along the way, even with a simple setup.
That said, once the Canon 1D Mark IV is available, I will get in line with every other photographer in the world -- not just for the HD Video capability, but for the high ISO and 16mp stills.