What I Am, Snap, Snap
"What is this, you can't even make out the racers? Too much coffee this morning give you the shakes? What, was the wind blowing you around like a tumbleweed? Maybe increase the shutter speed next time." At one time or another you have probably noticed an out-of-focus photo like that posted here and wondered, "whaaaaat?"
This is a bicycle race after all, so why are the spectators in focus and the racers a blur? No one has ever asked me a question like this mostly, I imagine, because people are generally smarter than they are given credit. Even his supporters are abandoning ship, having come to realize the error of drinking the snakes oil as if it were something better brewed. But back to the topic at hand.
I have long considered my photographic activities to be of a documentary nature thus, perhaps, categorizing me as a documentary photographer. In a way this is kind of an odd thing to say, since every photograph is a document of a particular time, place and / or event, and making everyone who snaps a shutter a documentary photographer. But society likes to compartmentalize things, and since I am certainly not a glamor photographer, or a landscape photographer, or a portrait photographer, a wedding photographer, etc, etc, the term documentary photographer seems to be most apt. After all, the photos I take tend to be used to round out, or fill out, a story, however short of words that story might be.
I have said it before, and I am sure I will say it again; though it may be the focus, a race is much more than just the action taking place between competitors. When I go to a race, or group ride, it is not to take photos of individual riders, but to present as complete a picture of the proceedings as I can - thus cheering spectators may be in focus, while the competitors are an obscure blur; photos of a cloudy sky, bright sun, withered vegetation, colorful flowers, a blowing flag, a rocky trail, a cracked road, all might suggest what kind of day it was, what the conditions were like.
"Well, that's fine and all, but,"
people will ask: "Why the black and white?" Well, this is kind of my personal little revolt against all the enhanced color photos you see today. This is southern California, the sky is just not that blue and, though it might seem like it in the Spring, especially in comparison to the rest of the year, those plants are just not that green. Additionally I think that color is often a distraction; black and white forces the viewer to focus on form, the story embedded within the image. Get it? For myself, it is the story within the photo that is what is important, not the photo itself.
Have you ever seen my downstairs bathr..., er, I mean cycling room? The walls are covered with framed photos (someday I will find someplace that wants to host an exhibit, hint, hint) - there is no glam in any of them, no sparkling alpine lake, set into a majestic rocky mountain cirque, beneath a seizure-causing brilliant blue sky. Hardly anyone would call them great, but they all tell a unique story, and that is the whole point.
I have long considered my photographic activities to be of a documentary nature thus, perhaps, categorizing me as a documentary photographer. In a way this is kind of an odd thing to say, since every photograph is a document of a particular time, place and / or event, and making everyone who snaps a shutter a documentary photographer. But society likes to compartmentalize things, and since I am certainly not a glamor photographer, or a landscape photographer, or a portrait photographer, a wedding photographer, etc, etc, the term documentary photographer seems to be most apt. After all, the photos I take tend to be used to round out, or fill out, a story, however short of words that story might be.
I have said it before, and I am sure I will say it again; though it may be the focus, a race is much more than just the action taking place between competitors. When I go to a race, or group ride, it is not to take photos of individual riders, but to present as complete a picture of the proceedings as I can - thus cheering spectators may be in focus, while the competitors are an obscure blur; photos of a cloudy sky, bright sun, withered vegetation, colorful flowers, a blowing flag, a rocky trail, a cracked road, all might suggest what kind of day it was, what the conditions were like.
"Well, that's fine and all, but,"
people will ask: "Why the black and white?" Well, this is kind of my personal little revolt against all the enhanced color photos you see today. This is southern California, the sky is just not that blue and, though it might seem like it in the Spring, especially in comparison to the rest of the year, those plants are just not that green. Additionally I think that color is often a distraction; black and white forces the viewer to focus on form, the story embedded within the image. Get it? For myself, it is the story within the photo that is what is important, not the photo itself.
Have you ever seen my downstairs bathr..., er, I mean cycling room? The walls are covered with framed photos (someday I will find someplace that wants to host an exhibit, hint, hint) - there is no glam in any of them, no sparkling alpine lake, set into a majestic rocky mountain cirque, beneath a seizure-causing brilliant blue sky. Hardly anyone would call them great, but they all tell a unique story, and that is the whole point.
Comments
Post a Comment