Guy Tal Photography Web Journal

An aspect often overlooked in the making of photographic fine art is the role of the artist. To many it would seem self evident that it took a great creative mind to conceive a great painting or to make a great sculpture; but when it comes to photography the camera still gets far more than its fair share of the praise at the expense of the photographer.

Part of the reason, in my opinion, is the perception that creating art with a camera is in some way easier than doing so with a brush or a chisel. I would agree that rendering the image using photographic equipment is faster, cleaner, and yes even easier than doing so with other instruments but in the making of art those are trivial considerations at best.

To put a finer point on it - consider the difference between modern power tools and those that were available to artists of the Renaissance. Next time someone puts it to you that photographic art is in some way inferior to other forms because of the tools used, challenge them to pick up any tool they want at the nearest Home Depot and to re-create Michelangelo’s David.

Do you suffer from photographic Post Incarceration Syndrome?

I found several references recently to statements about the ethics of combining exposures for increased dynamic range, improved depth of field etc. primarily focused (no pun intended) on the “fact” that such images don’t represent what the human eye would see.

Let’s be very clear here: cameras don’t see the way people do. If you were to travel through life with your eyes closed, opening them for a fraction of a second at a time, then closing them again, then such statements might have merit. In reality an image is perceived in the brain from a stream of information as the eyes constantly move and adjust to gather information about various parts of the scene. As a result, such data as the focal length equivalent or dynamic range of the eye, are entirely irrelevant as points of comparison against a camera.

In a sense you can think of the way the brain creates an image as constant stitching and blending of multiple frames in rapid succession. This allows a person to be aware of detail in extreme highlights and shadows, and covering an area far greater than a single “eye exposure” could.

A static photograph starts off at a significant disadvantage when attempting to represent the process of seeing. This was clear to some of the very first photographers. Some of the earliest landscape photographers, like Watkins and Jackson, have produced blended exposures and stitched multiple frames to overcome the limitations of the materials and tools available to them at the time. More recently such tools became more widely accessible via digital processing. Rather than revel in this fact, it seems some photographers suffer from what psychologists term “Post Incarceration Syndrome,” having spent so much time without such freedoms, that they are not only unable to fully utilize them, but are downright afraid of them.

Certainly any freedom can be abused, but this is no reason to demonize the technology that enables it. This is especially true for creative tools. To put it simply, those who use the tools for the sake of using them will always produce gimmicks and cliche’s. This is true of any art at any period in time. Those who see such gimmicks and blame the tools are not much better, though. Ultimately the artist is responsible for the art. If the result fails - the artist failed; not the tools.

One image ≠ One exposure
(it can, but it doesn’t have to)

Michael Gordon, David Fantle, and I will have a booth at the upcoming July 4th celebrations in Torrey, UT. If you happen to be around Capitol Reef National Park during the holiday, be sure to come over and say hi. We’ll have a large number of prints, cards, and posters, as well as copies of The Ultimate Guide to Digital Nature Photography.

A short while ago I wrote about answering the question “what do I hope to achieve with my images?,” referring to it as “the most important question“. It dawned on me shortly after that I should have perhaps qualified it as the most important question for those of us who make images. A more generalized version that may apply to practically anyone might be “what makes you happy?”

I recently experienced a rare moment of inspiration listening to a radio show. One of the guests was Satish Kumar and one sentence he said almost off hand and without emphasis, stuck in my mind and stayed with me: “there is nothing to achieve.” In his narrative he dismissed the importance of success, instead stating that the more important things in life are fulfillment and self-realization. This was not new to me, having been exposed to Jain philosophy in the past, but the simple statement that there is nothing to achieve cascaded in my mind into many other directions.

Perhaps the most relevant musing to those of you who pursue creative arts is that the greatest value is not in the finished piece but rather in the creative process - in the discreet pleasure and fleeting fulfillment of being engaged in something for the one simple reason of wanting to do it. Being in a state of having a singular preoccupation that silences all other voices, ignores all other distractions, and is unencumbered by preconceptions or needs, is rewarding in ways that are almost impossible to convey other than the simple truth in this simple sentence: there is nothing to achieve. The achievement is meaningless. The state of mind, the activity, is its own reward, independent of anything else.

Art for the sake of art. Just because… Try it.

Now that I’m on Flickr, Facebook, and (gasp) Twitter, I have to come clean - I joined because I’m told it’s good for business. Being a fairly private person who places a high value on my “alone time,” it still amazes me to get notices of new followers, friend requests, or members. I had to stop short of having fans.

To be honest - the concept of social networking is still alien to me. I must further confess that I don’t follow anyone online, and that for lack of time I usually only skim through messages and updates maybe once a week for a few minutes.

Admittedly, when I’m faced with “What are you doing?” or “What’s on your mind?” My instinctive reaction is still “that’s none of your business”; but I’m trying to overcome it.

I would like to express my sincere thanks to those who find me or my ramblings worth following. I promise to post timely updates and to respond to questions but please keep in mind I’m not quite sure what I’m doing, so - bear with me and follow at your own peril. When in doubt - send email.

Off to the solitude of the mountains.

Guy

Another topic I thought about at length on my recent desert trip was the degree of creative license employed in artistic landscape photography and defining my own comfort zone.

With time on my hands to explore astounding scenery and rationalize ways of expressing my reverence for it, I also wondered about the extent to which such feelings can even be expressed in a photograph, and the inherent desire to glamorize and idealize the resulting image to enhance its visual impact.

Let me first disabuse you of the notion of “manipulation” - a term now so loaded with ignorant prejudice as to be useless for any meaningful discussion. To put it plainly - every photograph is manipulated to some extent. There is simply no way to make the transition from reflected photons to a print or a digital file without some degree of subjective decisions on how the final image will appear. Anyone telling you their images are not manipulated is either exposing their own naiveté or trying to exploit yours.

More troubling is the fact that in many misinformed (if sometimes well-meaning) minds, common image processing techniques are somehow linked to such lofty ideals as morality or honesty. Let me be very clear: the fact that any method of processing was employed is in itself completely meaningless. Honesty is not a quality of images but rather of people; and comes into play in how the work is presented. A dishonest artist is one who deliberately misrepresents their work. Presenting a heavily-modified image as a documentary one is dishonest. On the other hand, presenting any image as a work of creative interpretation implies (to borrow a term from Ansel Adams) some departure from reality. As responsible (honest!) photographers it is our role to educate our audience on the difference.

And so, the real issue is one of extent - how much of a departure is “acceptable”? A subjective question if there ever was one.

Answering for myself, I strongly believe that photography is the most restrictive of the visual arts but also has the potential to make the most impact with the viewer for one reason: a binding connection with real events, real elements, real light, and real moments in time. Any obvious departure from these realities will cause an image to be dismissed outright regardless of any other aesthetic qualities it possesses. The artist’s tools are primarily composition, and extremely careful adjustment within very narrow margins. The goal is to produce images that inspire without venturing outside the realm of the believable.

A skilled photographic artist, using nothing but available elements and light, the ability to successfully arrange their compositions, and the sense to apply just enough processing to dress up the final image, is still able to greatly influence the mood of a scene portrayed and express their own voice without offending their viewers’ sensibilities.The ability to imbue a photographic image with a personal touch is indeed what puts the “art” in Fine Art Photography.

Even with such limited range of motion, results can be made to appear dramatically different. A skeptic will always wonder “is this what it would have looked like to me, had I been there to see it for myself?” I’ll let you in on a small secret most fine-art photographers may never admit to - the answer is almost always “no”. This is for a very good reason: if anyone could perceive, compose, isolate, notice, visualize, capture, process, and present the same image given nothing but the same opportunity - there is no art, and there is no need for the artist. We all take the raw materials from the field and work them into the final image in our own unique ways; be it minor adjustments of contrast and color saturation, or going as far as to remove distracting elements, diffusing light, changing the ambient color temperatures etc.

Some photographers indeed choose to take their light into realms of near-fantasy, creating works of breathtaking grandeur and glamor that may quite significantly vary from the original experience. Doing so successfully requires not only a mastery of tools but also incredible discipline and understanding of the viewer’s sensibilities. Such images are indeed works of creative art and should be regarded as such with no prejudice. Consider for comparison paintings of the Hudson River School artists - idealized imagery that stirred souls, was instrumental in the creation of the world’s first national parks, and incited the spark of romance and adventure in generations of explorers and pioneers. How many “straight” photographs can claim to accomplish anything near that or be remotely as memorable? I personally admire those who can create moving images, by any means, and who present their work honestly for what it is.

In my own work, I tend to shy away for excessive processing for one simple reason: I have always pursued photography of natural beauty because I find beauty and inspiration in the real things. If I didn’t experience something myself, I have little motivation (and admittedly little skill) to manufacture it. I do work hard, though, to emphasize in my processing and presentation the things that drew me to make a photograph. I have no qualms about enhancing color and contrast (even to the extent of eliminating color altogether,) removing minor distracting elements to strengthen a composition or employing selective adjustments to improve visual balance.

The guiding principle I adhere to was perhaps best articulated by the late Eliot Porter in his preface to “Intimate Landscapes”:

Ultimately, to be successful as a work of art, a photograph must be both pleasing and convincing. It must not leave the viewer in doubt about the validity of its subject, whether representational or imaginary.

Time in the desert is a great catalyst for creative thinking. This is the first of a series of photography-related musings from my recent trip to The Maze.

Among the many things that occupied my mind on this last excursion was a realization of how my own perception around the goals and reasons for making images had evolved over the years. The more I thought about various and seemingly unrelated concepts around photography, the more I came to realize how interconnected they are. All seem to converge around one simple yet profound question: what do I hope to achieve with my images?

In my early years the answer was simple: I wanted to amaze my viewers. I wanted to elicit the “ooh”s and the “wow”s. I wanted friends and family and complete strangers to be impressed with where I’ve been and what I’ve seen and the trophies I brought back with me, and yes - I wanted them to envy me for it. The more praise I got the more driven I became, until a grim truth dawned on me - the driving force behind my forays into the wild and the value I placed on the experience became entirely dependent on the images I was able to make. I lost my sense of awe, and the ability to appreciate the simple pleasures of just being there. I no longer “wasted” time idling in thought, admiring intimate subtleties, or contemplating life lessons. It was all about the incessant search for the next “keeper”. I was devoted to recording superficial beauty and failed to appreciate deeper meanings, complexities, and details. I captured memorable anecdotes but missed the underlying stories. My work, albeit well accepted, was no more meaningful than a fashion shoot. In my quest to express my love for the wild, I lost my ability to experience the very things that defined my love for it in the first place. It was time to reset priorities and to rekindle the fire.

Chalk it up to age or to life experiences but I have since come to learn that the missing ingredients to personal satisfaction with my own work were never missing to begin with. As I wrote in a previous article: “…you are there to make images of beautiful experiences. Make it a beautiful experience first, and you will have something to photograph.” Indeed, my works of the past 7 years or so have been exactly that - reflections of memorable experiences. Looking at any one of them I can recall the crackling of a small campfire in the desert with the Milky Way bright in the night sky, the reverence and humility of standing on a lofty perch and looking into the distance, breathing the sweet scents of wet earth and sagebrush after a desert rain, or watching the dawn unfold with a warm cup of coffee in an alpine meadow, observing as the first rays melt thin frost off delicate blades of grass.

I realized I am more attuned to the quiet intricacies of the natural world. I found that I enjoyed creating images that speak softly and have a compositional complexity that invites exploration beyond the initial impact. I no longer feel the need to command attention from my viewers through bold color or staggering scale. I like to invite them politely to study shapes, patterns, subtle relationships, and graceful lines. Ironic as it seems, finding satisfaction in my own work was, more than anything else, about defining what I like… to myself.

If asked today, my answer would be: to enlighten, to inspire, and to share with others the experiences that make my own life worth living.

I am glad to announce the releast of 18 new images, now available on my web site.

Land Of Standing Rocks

One of the most remote and wild places in North America, the Maze district of Canyonlands National Park defies description, in words or images. Merely being there feels like an adventure, exciting the senses and the imagination. Its sheer scale is sufficient to strike awe and humility in any mortal visitor. Add the difficult access, the pristine raw beauty of a land almost entirely unspoiled by industry, the remoteness and solitude, and the majestic overpowering silence, and you can start to understand the transforming power of the place.

Recently, I was fortunate to not only spend time in this incredible land, but to do so in the company of great friends - Michael Gordon, and Steve Cole - who, like me, share a reverence for the wild and a deep desire to explore and experience the sights and the spirit of the desert. We stayed in various parts of The Maze for about a week, and had only two brief encounters with other people. The rest of the time was spent hiking, admiring the breathtaking scenery, discovering evidence of ancient cultures, and oftentimes just lost in deep thought and engulfed in the magic all around us.

Shot Canyon

As mentioned, images will pale in comparison with the experience of actually being there. Moreover, this was not really a photography trip. We did not scout locations or wait for the light. The goal was to get ourselves out there, away from the humdrum, and just be in our element. With that in mind, the trip was an overwhelming success and the memories will undoubtedly remain vivid in our minds for the rest of our lives.

Michael posted some of his own notes on his blog (here and here). It never needed saying but somewhere inside we all know we will be back there again as soon as time and circumstances permit.

I just returned home from an amazing week-long trip to the Maze district in Canyonlands National Park (separate post to come) to find the first copies of The Ultimate Guide waiting for me. To my delight, the book looks wonderful and the print quality is excellent! The first orders will ship later this week.

You can order your signed copy of the book directly from me at the retail price of $24.95.