Truth, Beauty and Fine-Art Photography

 

by

Jerry Buley, Ph.D.

 

Copyright 2007 by Jerry Buley, Ph.D.

All Rights Reserved

 

            Consider two hypothetical situations.  First, the rug in front of your door way is out of place.  You reach out with your foot and move it back.  You want your home to look its best.  It pleases you when your home looks a particular way, especially if you have spent a lot of time putting it in that state.  And, you want others to see it the same way you do.  Or, suppose in our second hypothetical, someone put fingerprints on your car last night.  Its Saturday, you have the time so you decide to put another coat of wax on it.  You bought the car because you like the way it looks.  You want others to see it the same way you do.

            Are you creating fiction when you do these things, or are you merely showing what is already there in the best way possible?  I don’t think we even think about this for the most part.  It is simply human nature.  We want things to look their best.

            However, I have frequently heard in museums, galleries, and art stores the question, “is it real, or has it been 'photoshopped?'”  For a some time, I and I am sure other photographers, reacted to that question by diminishing to others the importance of using photo-editing software in my workflow.  “I only increased the contrast a little to make it look more like what I saw that morning." 

             In a similar vein, recently I was browsing in a photography gallery in Carmel, California.  It was a wonderful gallery with original prints by many of America's most famous landscape photographers - including Adams.  I was solemnly informed by the young clerk that none of the photographs in the gallery had been manipulated by the photographer between the click of the shutter to the print before us.  It is really quite humourous to hear jibberish like this.  All photographers manipulate their photographs in some way.  Ansel Adams spent weeks in his darkroom on a single print dodging, burning his way to the final product. Of course, some gallery owners have the people working for them saying things like this to differentiate those photographers who use digital media.  This distinction will soon pass as more and more photographers move to digital.

             The distinction is, of course, false.  But, it brings up a distinction held in the minds of some viewers of two dimensional art forms.  Ostensibly, a painter can include or exclude things from the final image,  In the minds of many viewers, photographers are locked into solely representing the scene that was before the camera at the moment of capture.  

            At one time I had a picture I had taken of two gondola on a canal in Venice.  The colors and the design of the picture were good,  The problem is that on the front lip of the first boat lay a one-liter water bottle thrown down by an insensitive tourist.  I also knew that taking it out would violate the truth of what I actually saw.  While thinking about this I was doing some reading about Ansel Adams, one of our country’s most renowned photographers. 

 

            Adams, well known for his spectacular landscapes, has left several books (e.g., Examples: The Making of 40 Photographs, and, The Print.) and considerable documentation as to the hundreds of hours and many steps he took in the darkroom on each of his final prints.  Consider one of Adams' master pieces Winter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada, California (1944).  In The Print, p. 126, he describes the many ways he manipulated the negative to create his final print.  More telling, to me at least, was what he said about the same picture in another of his books called: The Making of 40 Photographs: 

  The enterprising youth of the Lone Pine High School  had climbed the rocky slopes of the Alabama Hills and whitewashed a huge white L P for the world to see.  It is a hideous and insulting scar on one of the great vistas of our land, and shows in every photograph made of the area.  I ruthlessly removed what I could of the L P from the negative (in the left-hand hill), and have always spotted out any remaining trace in the print.  I have been criticized by some for doing this, but I am not enough of a purist to perpetuate the scar and thereby destroy -- for me at least -- the extraordinary beauty and perfection of the scene.  (pp. 164-165).  

            The fact that Adams manipulated his images from negative to print is obvious from reading his books, but not from viewing his pictures.  He was truly a master inside and outside of the darkroom. 

            Though Adam's darkroom tools were more primitive than those available in modern photo-editing software, they were nevertheless quite powerful in his hands.  He left nothing to chance.  He decided, first, where he wanted us to look.  Then, he dodged, burned and manipulated elements in the picture to create the final image.  In The Making of 40 Photographs, Adams even provides us with  the details of all the steps he took to make prints.             

            Immediately upon reading the quote above, I realized what my problem was.   I was mislabeling myself.  I was thinking like a photo journalist, not like a fine-art photographer.  For my purposes as a fine-art photographer I realized that beauty had to be more important than truth.  Journalistic photography is a type of photography in which the photographer is primarily concerned with portraying events exactly as they happened.  Hopefully, little if any photo editing is done.  Perhaps, because a photograph was taken while the photographer was running, the horizon line is sloping and needs to be straightened.  A journalistic photographer would do this to make the resulting photograph more readable.  Ultimately, truth is much more important than beauty in journalistic photography.  (For more on the differences between photo journalism and fine-art photography see A Nomenclature for Photography.)

   Fine-Art Photography, instead is an attempt by the photographer to create photographs that people want to look at.  The fine-art photographer may do significant photo editing on a given picture to bring out the beauty that is already there, much as you moved the rug to make your home look its best, or put another coat of wax on your car.  Though both truth and beauty are important to a fine-art photographer, in the end, the primary goal is beauty, not truth.  Once I had made the distinction, I had no problem taking out the water bottle, and I have never regretted it.  I've even toyed with the idea of making the blue tarp gray.  Hmmmmm.... maybe someday I will.

            Each of us as photographers have to decide what goal we are attempting to meet when we snap the shutter and when we process the resulting picture.  This does not mean we can only be one kind of photographer.  However, journalistic photography, because it is based on the trust of the viewer, is more fragile.  The more a given photographer bends the boundaries of trust, regardless of whether it is in the name of beauty, the less credibility that photographer might have for a viewer looking for truth, and the less credibility people have in photo journalism, in general.

            As a fine-art photographer, all I ask is that you permit me to create the wonderful illusion of beauty, just as you would a painter or a sculptor.

             By the way, I think the real reason why people ask the question, "is it real, or has it been photo-shopped?" is because something about the photograph they are viewing doesn't look right.  The question points to incompetency in the use of photo-editing tools.  No one looks at an Ansel Adams picture and suspects it has been manipulated - even though it has.  Thus, the best way for the photographer to hear that question less is to do her or his craft well. 

 

     

 

 

 

 

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