May I continue the conversation on how we see images, which began with Vieri’s reply to my own comments on his Iceland portfolio? The original post has become, shall we say, very diverse.
Firstly, the final version of Moonrise is very different from the original scene. On the negative, the sky is lighter than the foreground. Ansel’s final versions reverse this entirely. I continue to admire his scholarship in calculating the exposure in his head, balanced on a parked vehicle, with a young son who needed to be taken home, using inconvenient units and getting within a stop of an optimum exposure. We must also admire his ability to recognise the potential value of the scene. A straight print is rather dull.
We began with the rendering of moving water. It’s a good point that we don’t see moving water as either smooth featureless grey, or as a Harold Edgerton milk drop, but somewhere in between. Both seem legitimate products of the photographic process. Both seem to extend our knowledge of the world around us. Leonardo, possibly the most inquisitive man who ever lived, seems to have been fascinated, too.
One aspect of photography that I’ve never seen celebrated is out-of-focus blur. We do not see this blur ourselves. As soon as we look at an object our eyes adjust to make it sharp and we have no control of this. We ourselves live in a world of infinite depth-of-field, unlike our cameras. In this aspect of seeing, a Vermeer is closer to our experienced reality.
Controlling blur is obviously of great and continuing interest to LF photographers. Curiously, it’s now of interest to mobile phone maker, but in the opposite sense limiting sharpness. Funny old world, innit?
Firstly, the final version of Moonrise is very different from the original scene. On the negative, the sky is lighter than the foreground. Ansel’s final versions reverse this entirely. I continue to admire his scholarship in calculating the exposure in his head, balanced on a parked vehicle, with a young son who needed to be taken home, using inconvenient units and getting within a stop of an optimum exposure. We must also admire his ability to recognise the potential value of the scene. A straight print is rather dull.
We began with the rendering of moving water. It’s a good point that we don’t see moving water as either smooth featureless grey, or as a Harold Edgerton milk drop, but somewhere in between. Both seem legitimate products of the photographic process. Both seem to extend our knowledge of the world around us. Leonardo, possibly the most inquisitive man who ever lived, seems to have been fascinated, too.
One aspect of photography that I’ve never seen celebrated is out-of-focus blur. We do not see this blur ourselves. As soon as we look at an object our eyes adjust to make it sharp and we have no control of this. We ourselves live in a world of infinite depth-of-field, unlike our cameras. In this aspect of seeing, a Vermeer is closer to our experienced reality.
Controlling blur is obviously of great and continuing interest to LF photographers. Curiously, it’s now of interest to mobile phone maker, but in the opposite sense limiting sharpness. Funny old world, innit?