Photography Tips

Just what is 'Subject' in photography?

On the subject of ‘Subject’

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If the truth be told, I believe that that well-intentioned piece of advice that they give you about composition (“Fill the frame with the subject”) has done more harm than good in helping people compose better pictures. And the reason for that – as I see it – is simple: failure to define one’s terms. In this case, failure to correctly definine just what we mean by “Subject”. 

 

Few things illustrate what I mean by the above better than the photo that is “the subject” of this post. Let me explain…

What is the subject in this photograph that I made while on one of my Photography Tours to Varanasi? The man? The dog? The garments hung out to dry?

If the subject is the man and/or the dog, what are the garments doing there? If the subject is the garments, what’s the man and dog doing there?

 

It’s evident, isn’t it? Neither the man, the dog, or the garments are THE SUBJECT in themselves!

 

Yet the entire image is complete; there’s nothing extraneous, nothing at all.

To cut a long story short, don’t confuse the individual elements (or, as I call them “points of interest”) in an image for subject. Yes, there *may* be a primary or dominant “point of interest”, but get out of that tendency of mistaking it for subject! You’ll severely hinder not only your ability to see, but also your ability to compose if you do that.

 

Rather than thinking of “filling the frame with with ‘the subject’ “, think in terms of “there should be nothing in the frame that is NOT subject“!

 

What then is “Subject”? Whatever you very, very deliberately put in the frame”. I repeat, there should be nothing in the frame which is NOT SUBJECT!”

And isn’t that part of what composition is, deciding just what to include in the frame?

 

Of course, you still need to figure out what “subject” is, just what to include in the frame and what to exclude. And of course, bring the elements that you do include together in a pleasing manner. That is part of what I teach in my online photography course titled “What a Wonderful World“. Hop over there to see what was The Best Photography Workshop in Mumbai was about before it went global!

 

And that’s that on the subject of “Subject”!

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It Really Wasn’t So Blue

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It wasn’t. So Blue. I mean it was blue, but no so much.

 

But it really was Blue. As much as it comes out in the photograph. It really, really was as Blue. As I visualized it.

 

So there I am humming “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream” (well OK, that may seem a bit out of place considering it was the river Ganges at Varanasi) when I see something: streaks of reflected light in a mass of what was otherwise not-so-blue (or, should I say “really, really as Blue”?)

 

And a light goes on in my head.

 

You know what they say about light in photography. That it’s everything. I believe there’s something more important than the light that illuminates a scene. And if that something is missing, it really doesn’t matter just how gorgeous the light is, you’ll still end up making a ho-hum photograph.

 

I don’t believe in taking ho-hum photographs.

 

Switch on DSLR – check! Set White Balance to Tungsten – check! Compose – check! Trip shutter, and voila!

 

I just – to quote Ansel Adams – “Made a photograph”. Well almost, there’s just a tad bit left that I know I’ll need to do in the digital darkroom.

 

Did I mention that I set the White Balance to Tungsten? Oh yes, I did. The reasons thereof are because “It really wasn’t so blue”, but I really wanted it so Blue!

 

Setting the WB to Tungsten essentially nullifies the horrible yellow cast to an image that one ends up with while shooting in scenes illuminated by tungsten lighting. It does this by adding Blue. Put simply, WB set to Tungsten adds Blue to the image. Irrespective of the lighting condition.

 

And that’s what I was looking for: more blue. It really wasn’t so Blue. But it really was so Blue in my mind. I just needed to convert Thought to Image.

 

But adding blue to the entire scene resulted in the yellow reflections losing their “yellowness” to some extent. And I wanted that yellowness…

 

Load image in Lightroom – check! Add some more saturation to the yellow reflections – check!

 

And now, the image was well and truly made! Well actually, it was well and truly made even before I raised the camera. It was made in my mind. As I said, all that remained was converting Thought to Image.

 

Now, you may at this time be tempted to rush off to learn how to “Master Your DSLR”. Or maybe “Learn Lightroom”. But trust me, the role played by both my DSLR and Lightroom in the making of this image is less than ten percent (five percent would be more accurate).

 

The fact is that I could as well have taken this image on a point-and-shoot camera. Heck, I could have as well made this image on my cell phone. And if my point-and-shoot or cell phone didn’t have White Balance controls, I could have added more blue (and boosted the yellows) in post-processing. Put simply, “camera not matter!”

 

The fact is also that I could post-processed this image as I did in any photo-editing software. Heck, I could have done it on Snapseed on my cell phone, and ended up with the same effect. And I kid you not on this front. Put simply, “photo-editing software not matter!”

 

Which brings me to the bit about the most important thing in photography: it is the light. Not the light illuminating the scene, but the light that needs to go on in your head!

 

What matters is Your Mind: Its ability to perceive what lies in your field of vision. Its ability to recognize it (what you see for what it is. And to recognize it for what it can be.

 

What did I see? Or rather, what did my eyes look at? I’ve said it before: streaks of reflected yellow light in a mass of what was otherwise not-so-blue.

 

What did I see? The potential of color. And that’s that about “The Making of It Really Wasn’t So Blue”

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It Really Wasn’t So Red (Or, “How Do You Really – to quote Ansel Adams – Make A Photograph?”)

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the making of

"It Really Wasn't so Red"

(or, "How Do You Really- to quote Ansel Adams -

'Make a Photograph' )"

It Really Wasn't So Red
(Or, "How do you really Make a Photograph?)

Perhaps the most famous of all photography quotes is the one by Ansel Adams, the one that goes “You don’t take a photograph, you make a photograph.” Now, the internet is full of famous photography quotes and sayings, and this famous  Ansel Adams quote tops the list. If you ask me, it’s also the least understood of all photography quotes out there.

 

I should know; been there, parroted words I understood little – if anything – of, and appeared all knowledgeable and wise while doing so. Oh, the follies of youth!

 

I first came across that quotation by Ansel Adams in the nineties, when the internet just about came into India. I’d signed up for what was then the first photography forum on the net, and that’s where I encountered it, I think. And on reading it I went “Oh yes! What that means is that the camera takes a photograph, but it is the photographer that makes the photograph, and this he/she does by exposing correctly and composing well!” In hindsight, that was my ego speaking (along with tons of inexperience!); given that I was bloody good at nailing my exposures (I used to shoot on transparency films then, and that really needed a certain mastery over exposure) and was fairly good at composing a photograph — or so I thought!

 

As I said, that quote by Ansel Adams is the least understood of all photography quotes out there. And the most misunderstood! It’s been twenty-five years since then, and I still find that quote being brandished around on forums, mostly by over-eager photographers trying to impress others, and yes, I plead guilty to the charge of being one too at one point of time. Oh, the follies of youth!  Woe the imprudence of inexperience!

So How Do You Really 'Make a Photograph'?

So how does one really “make a photograph”? Ansel Adams’ famous quote (the complete one, which I reproduce further down in this post) actually lists four elements that one brings to “the act of making a photograph”. But before I get to them, let me narrate a few “stories”, vital as they are to understanding both how this image was made, as well as understanding how any photograph should be made! And yes, I promise to keep each short; a few lines at best, a few paragraphs at worst.

 

What’s a story? Nothing but the retelling of an experience; here I go retelling a few of mine.

Story #1: It was Varanasi. And It Really Wasn't So Red

OK, yellow-red actually. Or red-yellow, whatever you wish to call it. But I wanted to make the photograph look that way. And therein lies the tale. Several actually.

First things first – where this image was made. Or rather taken I should say. Making a photograph – in its entirety – is another matter, one which I’ll cover further on in this post. So yeah, regarding where this was taken… Varanasi it was, and that is central to the  the making of this photograph as you’ll see. Three days after Christmas of 2016, and there I was on a private photography tour to Varanasi & Rajasthan. And as all good visitors to Varanasi are wont, the evening saw as at the banks of the river Ganges, waiting to witness the spectacle that is the Ganga aarti.

Now if you’ve been to Varanasi and witnessed the Ganga aarti, you’ll know that the ghats – at that time of the day – are illuminated by mixed-lighting, mostly tungsten in nature. This renders images – whether on film or digital – as quite orangeish- yellow. Not a nice yellow really, it’s quite a jaundiced yellow as you can see in these images of the Ganga aarti at Varanasi to be found on Google. It’s precisely to overcome these types of horrible color casts that film manufacturers came up with films suitable for various types of lighting; Tungsten Balanced Film for example, mitigates the orangeish-yellow cast when shooting under tungsten / halogen lighting conditions, rendering colors as more ‘natural’.

Digital cameras, of course, have no film. Their sensors, however, are designed to see along the lines of what film did. Put simply, just as each type of film was ‘balanced’ to a certain lighting condition, so can your camera at any given point of time. This is achieved via the “White Balance” setting on digital cameras.

Now I could have set the White Balance on my camera to Tungsten or Auto, both of which would have “normalized” the colors and gotten rid of color casts. But that would have been quite… conformist. But I didn’t want it that way, I wanted it red. So I underexposed the shot a bit, saturating the colors as a result. In post-processing I added more red, because that’s how I wanted it.

Put simply – and this is only thus far – I brought to the making of this photograph my experience of lighting, film, exposure, and post-processing. But wait, that doesn’t explain why I chose red, and there’s more I brought to the making of this photograph…

Story #2: It Wasn't So Grainy

Look at the photograph in detail and you’ll see it’s quite grainy. Grain is a throwback to the days of film; it is nothing but the appearance of random optical texture of processed photographic film due to the presence of small particles of a metallic silver, or dye clouds, developed from light-sensitive silver halide that have received enough light. It is an optical effect, the magnitude of which (amount of grain) depends on both the film stock (make, age, and batch number) and the definition (magnification/distance) at which it is observed.

Now film grain was a given in the early days of photography; films then were quite grainy, which is to say that grain was quite visible. As film technology developed, the emphasis changed to developing film with finer and finer grain (making grain less noticeable). Another thing worth noting is that the concept of film grain is intrinsically tied to the sensitivity of film; the more sensitive to light (higher ISO) the film was, the more susceptible it was to the increased appearance of grain.

Grain was also a by-product of film being “pushed” – a process of exposing a film at an ISO higher than its rated one (for example shooting ISO 100 film at ISO 400, mostly done in poor lighting conditions to mitigate the effects of camera shake). This would effectively under-expose the film, which would then be compensated for in the chemical darkroom by overdeveloping it (a process known as push-processing). This invariably resulted in the pushed film displaying more grain that it would have if rated – and developed – at its normal specifications

The image sensor in digital cameras isn’t susceptible to grain, lacking as it does the presence of any light-sensitive silver halide. Digital sensors do however manifest digital noise – unwanted (well, mostly!) visual distortions that look looks like tiny colored pixels or specks in a photograph, and sometimes resembles the grain that you may see in film photography. Much like the early films, early digital sensors were exceptionally prone to noise, and just as it was with film, the noise was more manifest at higher ISO ratings. With technology, the focus has been to reduce the amount of noise (just as it was with reducing grain in film); the cameras of today display very little – if any – noise at exceptionally high ISO settings.

When I took this shot, I had bumped up the ISO on my decade plus old camera up quite a bit. As such, there was manifest noise / grain in the image. But it wasn’t so damn grainy! Now I could have easily cleaned up that noise in post-processing (as is the norm), but I actually chose to – and you’ll forgive the pun – go against the grain and actually add more noise / grain to the image. Tons of it actually!

 

It wasn’t so grainy, but I wanted it to be so! Why on earth would one choose to add more noise / grain to an image, when it’s more “acceptable” to reduce noise?? The reasons for that call for a telling of the next story, and the ones after that.

Story #3: I want my... I want my... I want my NGMs!

As a child of the sixties, I grew up on a learning and entertainment diet that mostly comprised of books, magazines, radio, and the occasional movie. Television in India was a state-run single-channel affair; to say that most of the programs they beamed back then were drab would be putting it kindly. Things be as they may, color televisions happened in India, and the first color program that was beamed was MTV! I’m talking mid-eighties here, FYI.

There was that number in the late eighties, one by the British Rock Band Dire Straits – Money For Nothing. And there’s a line in there that goes “I want my… I want my… I want my MTV!”

I, wanted my NGMs – National Geographic Magazines. Of old. I grew up on them. And the photographs had character. Of place, of people, and of the photographers. The colors weren’t over the top, but they had a characteristic warmth to them (see this, this, and this for examples). Almost red, mostly (it depended on the film used, and that in turn was dictated by location and story). Yes, the warmth had to do with the light in some measure, but mostly it was a characteristic of the films of the time.

 

And, they were grainy. It gave them a certain rawness of character, a roughness of sorts. No smooth-as-silk-oh-we’re-so-polished stuff, those-there photographs – their grain – were reflective of life itself, shorn of pretense. They were as real as Life can be.

 

IMHO, they were far better than the images of today.

 

I wanted my NGMs of old. But those are not the only reasons I decided to add red and grain in the making of this photograph. There’s more to the tale, yet another story.

Story #4: Sucker for Color plus Sucker for Contrast equals a 'Slideshooter'

I love color. And contrast. And the standard print (negative) films I started shooting with in the mid-nineties just didn’t reproduce them as I wanted them to. Which led to me shooting on slide (transparency) film. Which led me to really have to master exposure. And when you really managed to expose a frame just right with transparency film, the results were nothing short of magical.

Oh, the colors! Oh, the contrast! They were to die for! Of course, each film had its own unique characteristics in the way they rendered colors, contrast, and grain, but all said and done, they were magical.

Drawn as I am to warm colors (I want my NGMs, remember?) and low to medium-high contrast, it was a given that I’d gravitate to those transparency films that exhibited these characteristics. Kodachrome, Ektachrome and Ektachrome VS (Very Saturated) were my standard choice, with an occasional dabbling in Fujichrome Velvia (which actually was more suited for green vegetation, had tremendous contrast, very deep blacks, and boasted incredibly fine grain).

Now the thing with transparency film was What You Shot Was What You Got! Unlike negative (print) film where errors in exposure or unwanted color-casts could be compensated for in the printing phase, the only thing that could be ‘compensated’ for in the development phase with transparency films was deliberate (or at times, accidental) pushing or pulling at the time the film was loaded into the camera. If you’d pushed (rated the film at a higher ISO at the time of loading it), the resulting underexposure had to be compensated by over-processing; if you’d pulled (rated the film at a lower ISO), the resulting over-exposure had to compensated for by under-processing. Either way, if you’d pushed or pulled film, this had to be communicated to the development lab in advance; there was no fixing things post that if you were shooting on transparency film.

Put simply, we T-Rex’s from the film age – especially those shooting on transparencies – literally brought to the exposed frame our choices of color, grain, contrast, exposure et al… things that went into ‘making a photograph’. Of course, nowadays we bring Digital Editing tools to the process.

But that’s still not the half of what you really bring to the making of a photograph! There are still more stories, two to be precise!

Story #5: Of Varanasi, Shiva, a Hymn, and Shiva's Dance'

It was Varanasi, remember? And it wasn’t so red, nor so grainy. But then…

 

Varanasi – according to Hindu legend – is Shiva’s city, and while the evening aarti is primarily devoted to the river Ganga, part of the ceremony involves the worship of Shiva. Shiva – as one of the trinity of the three primary gods (the other two being Bhrama & Vishnu) in the hindu pantheon, is symbolic of both destruction and regeneration. Things come of him, and are destroyed by him in turn, so that the Rhythm Of The Cosmos is maintained ad infinitum.

While – according to hindu belief ( and there are psychological & philosophical reasons that drive those beliefs, btw) – the other gods actively participate in the affairs of humans in varying degrees, Shiva mostly stands aloof. He does not participate, merely choosing to observe. Until circumstances dictate that he intervene. And when he does, he manifests as Rudra (The Howler), Virabhadra, or Mahakali; all leave behind destruction in their wake, all result in transformation.

Transformation – whether physical, mental or spiritual – is anything but a passive process. It is both energetic in itself and calls for tremendous energy. Transformation is violent (think Newton’s First Law Of Motion). Transformation is active, transformation is arousing and moves to action…

Speaking of destruction, transformation, arousing and moving to action — associated with the legend of Shiva is a hymn known as “Shiv Tandava Stotra”. Describe as it does Shiva’s power and beauty, the ninth and tenth quatrains of this hymn conclude with lists of Shiva’s epithets as destroyer, even the destroyer of death itself. Alliteration and onomatopoeia create roiling waves of resounding beauty in this example of Hindu devotional poetry.

While there are many performances of this hymn to be found on the net, the most energetic and awe-inspiring rendition I’ve heard is the one that forms part of the Ganga aarti along a  ghat where this photograph was taken; it comes closest to describing the Tandava – The Dance Of Endless Destruction & Regeneration that Shiva (as Natraja – The Lord Of Dance) dances in his role both as The Destroyer & Regenerator. Shiva’s Tandava is not an event; it is an endless, on-going process. It is The Very Rhythm Of The Cosmos itself!

The photograph in this post – call it chance maybe, was taken during the recitation of the Shiv Tandava Stotra.

Transformation, Destruction, Energy, Energetic, Violence, Active, Arousing & Moving to Action... all these are some of the emotions and feelings both triggered by and associated with The Color Red!

The Red Belongs There In That Image, That's Why I Wanted - and Made - It So Red!

Shiva is also described – and portrayed – as a disruptor; one could say he’s the original maverick! While all the other gods (and mankind) have their rules and codes of conduct which they strictly adhere to, Shiva stands out like a sore thumb, seemingly mocking the artificiality of rules, laws, and all societal constructs. While the other gods – and mankind – deck themselves with expensive clothing and jewelry, Shiva just wraps an animal hide around his waist. While the other gods and men seek engagement with society, Shiva prefers the solitude of high mountain peaks and forests. While the other gods and men seek to have a beautiful roof over their heads, Shiva spends the night in charnel houses and crematoriums. While the other gods and men seek and surround themselves with things they like while avoiding things and people they dislike, Shiva is surrounded by society’s rejects.

Shiva goes against the established practice. Shiva does not conform, he goes against the grain! While the other gods and mankind seek smoothness and polish, he is rough and course.

 

Kind of reminds you of grain / noise in a picture,  don’t you think?

Shiva – a worshiper of his would say – is akin to the the very essence of film: silver halide that sometimes manifests as grain in an image. Shiva – one could say – is akin to the very nature of digital sensors:  statistical quantum fluctuations that manifest as noise. Grain / noise – like Shiva – may not always be visible, but it’s there!

 

And that’s why I added more grain to the image. Because – what with the location being Varanasi, Shiva’s omnipresence, courseness, roughness , being the very essense of things manifest etc.,  the grain  belonged there!

Story #6: Back to Ansel Adams' Quote. Or, How do you Really "Make A Photograph"?

Towards the beginning of this post I stated that Ansel Adams’ quote is probably the most misunderstood of all the famous photography quotes out there. The reason, I believe, is two-fold: (a) The quote that is mostly thrown around is a fragment; incomplete, not giving any clue of what Adams was referring to, and (b) as and when the quote was reproduced in its entirety, many people fail to realize the sheer depth of its scope.

 

So what is the quote in its entirety? What did Ansel Adams have to say about making a photograph? This:

We don't take a photograph, we make a photograph. And we don't make a photograph just with a camera, we bring to the act of photography all the books we have read, the movies we have seen, the music we have heard, the people we have loved."

Ansel Adams

Sounds very good. Definitely worth brandishing in forums and seeming to appear all wise. But what does it really mean?  As I like to put it,  it simply means this:

WE BRING TO THE ACT OF PHOTOGRAPHY -TO THE MAKING OF A PHOTOGRAPH (AND EVERYTHING AS A MATTER OF FACT) THE SUM TOTAL OF THE EXPERIENCE OF OUR LIFE!

It’s that simple, it really is. What you need to bring to making a photograph is yourself. Your beliefs, your likes, your dislikes… everything you’ve experienced! Now I could have said this right at the beginning, that this is what Ansel Adams’ quote means. I could have skipped narrating those experiences of mine. But it’s quite possible then that you wouldn’t have understood the scope and depth of just how much of oneself one can – and if needed – should bring to the act of photography and the making of a photograph!

So how much of oneself should one bring to the making of a photograph? That totally depends on you. I personally bring a lot of myself to the process, and consciously at that. How much you choose to is up to you.

 

If the truth be said, one is subconsciously always bringing a little bit of oneself to the making of a photograph; even if all that one is [seemingly] bringing is the camera and knowledge of things technical, one is bringing a dominant (albeit mistaken / incomplete) belief (i.e. oneself if you think about it) that it’s the camera that makes an image. One is bringing oneself even then, but an extremely little bit I’d say. Really not done, and it won’t get you far.

 

By the way, do you know what one of my favorite photography quotes is? It’s one by a photographer who’s influenced my photography the most. Quite relevant – extremely so, actually – to this post. it goes:

All you have to do is Live, and Life will give you the pictures"

Henri Cartier-Bresson
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Henri Cartier-Bresson's Decisive Moment - Women in a palace, Rajasthan - India

Of Life, a Song, and Henri Cartier-Bresson’s Decisive Moment

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She choked on the sandwich she was biting into, I really should have warned her to put it down when she asked if she could look at the photos I’d made. My bad I thought, nonchalantly picking the soggy pieces from my shirt where they’d landed.

 

She apologized profusely. Only to promptly pick up my camera again.  I could have sworn the demeanor of the kings – long deceased – portrayed in the large paintings that adorn the walls of the Café Mehran became a tad bit sterner. Being around royalty does demand a certain decorum; coughing up a sandwich isn’t part of it. Nor are loud exclamations, and her exclamations were loud.

 

“It’s not fair, not one bit!” she went, for maybe the tenth time. Loud, again. The maître d’ looked our way, a slight frown creasing his forehead. I knew then that I’d have to do something before we got the boot – a royal one at that. It just wouldn’t have been the right note to end what had so far been an amazing photography tour of Rajasthan.

 

I settled back into my chair, raising the cup of tea to my lips. “What’s not fair, Aapti?”

 

She looked up from my camera – the one she’d been reviewing my shots on. If looks could have killed, I’d have died several times over. I hurriedly wiped the lop-sided grin off my face, not being particularly eager to join the paintings on the wall.

 

“The fact that you manage to nail The Decisive Moment almost every time!” she spat out. “Let’s face it, you and I saw the same thing — those beautiful colors, that brilliant pattern, and the gorgeous light. And then you waited – as did I – for what we felt would be Henri Cartier-Bresson’s Decisive Moment. I took a shot and you took a shot, and damn you – you with your little point-and-shoot managed to nail it, while I with my DSLR didn’t! And you’ve been doing so time and again since the last ten days while I always miss it!”

 

“It has nothing to do with the camera,” I replied. “Not in my case, and not in yours either, given just how at ease you are with its controls.”

 

“I know that,” she snapped. That’s why I decided I had to attend your Art of Seeing Photography Workshop on my visit to India a year back, frustrated as I was with my inability to make meaningful photographs despite having mastered the technical side of it.”

 

“And has it made a difference?”, I asked. “The workshop – has your photography changed after that? And if so, in what ways?”

 

“You know the answer to that!”, she exclaimed. “Of course, it has. My photography has undergone a sea-change – and for the better – since you taught me how to truly see. I’m so much more aware of the beauty of everything around me, just how photograph-able everything is. I’m seeing things I’d never ever have noticed before. And from what people who view my portfolio have to say,my ability to make a meaningful composition seems to have gone through the roof. But that last bit – the ability to nail Henri Cartier-Bresson’s Decisive Moment… I still haven’t got that!”

 

“Well, I did say during the workshop that that’s the last thing one is likely to master, and that’s why Cartier-Bresson’s Decisive Moment is the last thing I talk about in the workshop. Besides, it does need everything else that I teach to fall in place before one gets there.”

 

“I know,” she said. “And I do think that you’d agree that what goes before has fallen in place as far as I’m concerned. But The Moment… why can’t I nail it? I mean just look at your shots! Why? Why?”

Henri Cartier-Bresson's Decisive Moment , Rajasthan - India

 

I knew then that I’d have to answer her. Or risk ending up having her so disheartened that she’d hang her boots – or rather camera – up. The question was whether she was ready for what I had to say. I sighed, there was only one way to find out.

 

“If the truth be told, it’s quite philosophical. Sure you want to hear it?” I ventured.

 

“I’m all ears,” she said, quickly setting my camera aside. Movement outside the cafe caught my eye. People scurried for cover as the nonseasonal drizzle that had started a while ago picked up a little. I closed my eyes and collected my thoughts, wondering where I should begin.

 

“I so wish Neha were here! I feel like singing. And how’s your hindi, by the way?”

 

“What???” she said. I’m sure she thought I’d lost it.

 

“Neha. Neha Chinmay Mandlekar .” I explained. “She’d attended the Art of Seeing Workshop a few months back, and she messaged me yesterday stating that back then she could understand only so much, but she feels now that her understanding has deepened. And she said that earlier she was too busy with technicalities, but now she knows exactly what I mean when I say what I do in the workshop, my philosophy — and she wants to understand it in depth. So yeah, I wish Neha were here, because what I’m going to say would be of interest to her too, I think. Anyway, how’s your command over the Hindi language?”

 

“It’s O.K.,” she replied. “As you’re aware, I am of Indian origin, but I’ve spent most of my life abroad ever since I was a child. So while I can understand – and speak – some hindi, I must state that I do have difficulty with it more often than not. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

 

I let out a long breath, it was time to get this show on the road, time to demolish some misconceptions. The problem was I didn’t know how the pieces would fall – would they fall all over her, leaving her bewildered and lost? Or would they blow the roof – the walls of her misconceptions – to smithereens, literally freeing her to what was?

 

There was only one way to find out.

 

“How would you describe The Moment,Aapti?”

 

“Henri Cartier-Bresson described The Decisive Moment as that in which the photographer captures, in a fraction of a second the emotion of a subject and / or the beauty of form at the very instant it presents itself… an instant when all elements in the frame come together for maximum emotional impact” she shot back, not hesitating in the least. “And as you said during the workshop, all that sounds very nice but doesn’t explain squat about just what is meant by the elements coming together. And that is key, as you explained – the elements really come together when…”

 

“The Description is Not the Thing!” I interjected, cutting her short mid-sentence. Maybe it was the emphasis with which it was delivered – and quite deliberately if I might say – whatever it was, she froze. I actually felt sorry then, but it had to be said.

 

“I.. I..  I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I  don’t understand! What do you mean by ‘The Description is Not the Thing’?”

 

“I’m afraid that calls for a song,” I said, stretching my arms and flashing a grin – the better to get her to relax again. “As I said, I feel like singing one.”

 

She smiled. “Go ahead. Should I be heading to the kitchen to see if they have some rotten tomatoes? Just in case you sound like you’re being slaughtered!”

 

“That won’t be called for,” I laughed. “O.K., it’s a hindi song, from this movie called Gol Maal. Not the one that came out a few years back, mind you. I’m talking about the original one, the one that was released in 1979. I don’t think you may have seen it. Or have you?”

 

She shook her head. “I wasn’t even born then!”

 

“I figured,” went I. “Things be as they may, it’s a song the hero sings to the heroine. And while it’s not a song about photography per se, it definitely is a song about Life. Or rather, how to get the most out of it. And maybe – just maybe – you may find it has something to do with your ‘Why’, and How to go about addressing the block you’re facing. As I said, it’s in hindi. Since you mentioned that you have some difficulty with that language, what I’ll do is translate as I go along. Is that fine with you?”

 

She nodded her consent, raising what was left of her sandwich to her mouth. I discretely moved a bit, just in case. And then, I began to sing…

 

Henri Cartier-Bresson's Decisive Moment - stairway in a palace , Rajasthan - India

Hmm mm mm mm….. aha ha ha hey hey hey…
Hmm mm hmm mm…. Aanewala pal janewala hai…
Aanewala pal janewala hai.
Ho sake toh isame jindagee bita do
Pal jo yeh janewala hai ho ho…...

(This Moment – The Moment – that is to come is but an instant and will flit away before you know it.
If you can – if you dare – make the most of it, Live your Whole Life in That One Instant,
In that Fleeting Moment which comes only to be gone before you know it!)

 

She choked on the sandwich she was biting into, spewing out bits in the air. Again! I mentally patted myself on the back  for having the foresight to  re-position my chair out of the line of fire.

 

“My God!” she went, when she’d managed to catch her breath. “I can’t believe it! It’s so Henry Cartier Bresson’s Decisive Moment! It’s literally what the man said – ‘Oop! The Moment! Once you miss it, it is gone forever!‘ ”

 

“Again, The Description is NOT the Thing!” I said.  Far less sternly than before, but emphatically nevertheless.

 

I laughed as she gaped at me.  “I’ll come to that, but I hope you see the parallels in what that stanza from that song says to what I say in my workshop –the importance of being in the moment, being present in mind, body and soul. Just how important Mindfulness is to the process of Seeing overall.”

 

“Yes,” she nodded thoughtfully. “I think I do now. This is so amazing, the intertwined nature of every thing! As you put it, to truly understand one thing is to begin to understand the common thread that runs through everything! Wow!!

 

“There’s more,”  I grinned. “That was just the first stanza from the song. Want to see just how deep the rabbit hole goes? Wanna follow the thread home?”

 

“Yes!” she nodded enthusiastically.

 

I reached forward, gently sliding the plate of sandwiches out of her reach. “Just in case!” I said. She laughed.

Ek bar yu milee masum see kalee…
Ek bar yu milee masum see kalee.
Ho khilte huye kahan khushbash mai chalee
Dekha toh yahee hai dhundha toh nahee hai
Pal jo yeh janewala hai ho ho……

(I once chanced upon a bud, a bud in the very act of blooming.
And it said “Behold, I am gone!”
When I saw it, it was there,
but when I looked for it, it wasn’t
That Fleeting Moment that arrives,
only to be gone before you know it!)

“I want you to take your time thinking this stanza through Aapti” I said, leaning forward for emphasis. “Apart from describing so eloquently the oh-so-transitory nature of life’s moments, what else does this stanza speak about?”

 

She thought long and hard. Then she thought longer and harder.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“Maybe this will help,” I ventured. And then I sang a line from that stanza.  “When I saw it, it was there. But when I looked for it, it wasn’t…”

 

Her eyes went wide as saucers. “In photography trying too hard to see can actually prevent you from seeing!”

 

“Bingo!” I said. “Very often, the act of trying too hard to get something itself prevents you from getting it. As long as you’re going ‘I have to do this, I have to do this…’, you are separate, disjointed from whatever you are trying to get right. We don’t seek separation, we’re seeking fusion – a state where you, the object of perception, The Decisive Moment, and the process of making an image of The Decisive Moment are One! And you cannot achieve that Oneness if you’re subconsciously going ‘I [have to], I [have to], I [have to]…’. Your trying too hard is in no small measure preventing you from nailing The Moment. So my advice is this: Stop Looking for The Moment. Be in The Moment. Let The Moment come to you.”

 

“You make it seem effortless!” she grumbled.

 

“It is effortless, trust me. You should be aware however that it does take a lot of effort to get to being effortless. The effort lies mainly in demolishing your notions of what you think, and instead learning to be and go with the flow. And when you ‘get it’, that’s a Moment by itself – The Moment it Clicks so as to put it – The Moment it Clicks in your head that you have to let go and just be there and observe. Cartier-Bresson himself said it – ‘all you have to is live and life will give you the pictures.’ ”

 

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” she said. “A hell of a lot. This is as revealatory as The Art of Seeing Photography Workshop. More actually!”

 

“Well, thank you for your kind words, mademoiselle. But it ain’t over till the fat lady sings! I’m yet to deliver the coup de grâce.”

 

She frowned. “I presume it calls for singing what comes next in that song, and then putting it in context…”

 

“You presume wrong,” I laughed. Actually, for a change it involves me saying what I have to first, and then singing what’s left of the song.” I leaned forward, the better to get my point across.

 

“Tell me, do you remember the section from the Art of Seeing Workshop that deals with Henri Cartier-Bresson’s Decisive Moment, specifically the parts where I display pictures from my own portfolio and walk participants through the events that led to me capturing those decisive moments?”

 

“Yes,” she said. “And they’re extremely illustrative those stories. You highlight the entire thought process, what you saw, what you thought of, and the coming together – the confluence– of elements for maximum emotional impact.”

 

“Exactly,” went I. “I describe – post-event – the circumstances and thoughts that came to pass before The Decisive Moment. I repeat — I describe – post-event – what happened before The Decisive Moment…”

 

She buried her face in her hands. “Oh My God! The Description is Not The Thing! It’s never about The Thing itself! You describe the before and the after, but never The Moment!”

 

“It never is and it cannot be!” I replied, exhilarated to see she’d got it. The Tao – The Way – that can be spoken of is not the True Tao or Way. Words have their limitations and at best can be used to describe or point to an experience, but cannot substitute the experience itself. One can speak of what The Moment is like and about it as Henri Cartier-Bresson did, but not what The Moment is itself. One can speak as I do of what thought processes and events leading to The Moment, but not The Moment itself. The Description of a thing is not The Thing, and this is true of everything.”

 

A pause to catch my breath before continuing. “The problem is that we get so caught up in words – that we fail to realize this – and enslave ourselves. We need the words – the descriptions – to help us find the way, but we have to realize that the words are not the way itself. And so, my advice to you is this — learn from the words, but don’t get enslaved by them, they’re just meant to help you forge your own way. Don’t chase Henri Cartier-Bresson’s Decisive Moment, choose to find your own moment. Let it find you!”

 

She nodded. “I understand you, I truly think I do.” She paused and then looked quizzically at me.

 

I smiled, knowing she was waiting for the rest of the song.

 

Ek Baar Waqt Se Lamha Gira Kahin...
Wahaan Dastan Mili, Lamha Kahin Nahin.
Thoda Sa Hasaake, Thoda Sa Rulaake...
Pal Ye Bhi Jaanewala Hai Ho Ho...

(Time - in passing - dropped ‘A Moment’
You will find there – of that moment and leading to it and its aftermath – narratives, stories and at times History itself...
But of that Moment ITSELF, you will find little - if any -mention.
The Moment – so elusive it is...
Sometimes it makes you laugh,
and sometimes cry...
This Moment – like every other – will come only to pass.)

“You’re lucky I wasn’t chewing on that sandwich you know,” she said, a thoughtful look on her face.

 

I nodded, partially distracted by the stimulus of something tugging at the tendrils of my consciousness. I looked around to identify it; the shower that had pelted the Mehrangarh Fort a few minutes back had retreated, but I delighted in what it left in its wake. I closed my eyes, breathing in the smells deeply.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

 

“Savoring The Moment” I replied, my eyes still shut. “Savoring the smell of the earth that only the first – or nonseasonal – rains can bring. Ho sake to isme zindagi bita do pal yeh jo jaane waala hai — if you can, savor the whole of life in this one moment!”

 

I heard the sound of a camera shutter and opened my eyes, only to see Aapti grin and show me the shot she’d just taken Of me, my eyes closed, savoring The Moment. I grinned.

 

She’d got it. She’d captured The Moment!

Exif Data – Hidden Gems In There You Didn’t Know About

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Exif Data. You know how important it really is! Always has been. Probably always will be. Exif (Exchangeable Image File) Data is that which your digital camera stores along with every image you take. The many bits of information stored stored in Exif Data include information regarding (but not restricted to) the camera make & model nos., image resolution, date and time the image was taken, focal length of the lens, and exposure settings such as shutter speed, aperture value and ISO.

 

What most photographers who’re starting out (any many who aren’t) concentrate on the most are those elements in the Exif Data that spell out how the shot was taken, specifically the exposure settings spelled out above. It is not surprising that this is so;  Exif Data can be a source of learning, giving the photographer an insight into what they did right – or wrong – that led to a shot turning out the way it did.

 

As, for example, you may look at an image you made a sports event and see that the elements are blurred. A quick look at the Exif Data may reveal that your shutter speed was let’s say 1/200th of a second. This should tell you that a shutter speed of 1/200th of a second is too slow to be capturing elements of that particular sporting event, that in the future it’d serve you well to choose a faster shutter speed. Lesson learned. Well, hopefully, anyway.

 

It’s not surprising hence that many a photography forum practically bursts at the seams when it comes to photographs being posted along with Exif Data. Some forums actually make it mandatory that if you post an image, you do so with the Exif Data. And of course, if the rules don’t state it, there’ll always be someone – nay, many people –  asking for the Exif  Data (shutter speed, ISO, aperture) , in the hope that they’ll learn just exactly how that photo was made, so that they can do so for themselves.

 

And therein lies the problem: in thinking that in knowing the aperture value, shutter speed, ISO and other exposure related Exif Data you can really learn how that great photograph was made. Because the secret to that great photograph does not really lie in the exposure details portion of the Exif Data, but elsewhere. Somewhere in the Exif Data are hidden gems that are what really went into that photograph, and that’s what people miss.

 

And that’s what this post is about: Hidden Gems in Exif Data that you didn’t know about. And I’m going to show them to you, but before that a few pictures. I don’t know, but I’ve been told they’re really good, so I’m putting them up here and then we’ll have a look at the Hidden Gems in them.

Eight images all mobile shots starting “https://www.stopsoflight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/2015-06-27-02.59.06-1-01-400×284.jpeg”

Not bad – those shots above – I’ve been told. Some even say they’re pretty good. I don’t know, I just photograph whatever catches my eye. That being said, it’s time we moved on to the Exif Data within those images. Not the standard exposure related ones as I said earlier, but rather the ones which really matter in helping you how the shot was made – “Hidden Gems”as I call them.

 

The Hidden Gems gems subset of Exif Data consist of the following fields: Fw field, UbW field, LbW field, U field, H field, FH field, F field and the WRM field. A description of each of these fields is given in the table below. Click the camera symbol for each field on the rows below to see a description of the field and its contents.

The Fw field stores details about the Footwear the photographer had on at the time the shot was taken. Common values include Boots, shoes, loafers, sandals, chappals (slippers) etc. A proposal to include “bare-feet” in the Fw field is rumored to be under consideration. In my case, the Fw field is usually populated with either “shoes” or “chappals”

The LbW field contains details on the Lower-body Wear that the photographer had on when the shot was made. Most of my shots have this field reading as “Jeans, well fitting”. This field can be quite helpful in telling what made your shot go wrong, especially if it reads “loose, needs to be pulled up frequently”, or “tight at the crotch”.

 

The Upper Body Wear field contains data about the clothing above the hips. Mine usually reads “Tee-shirt”. Of course, different shooting conditions call for different UbW; you know what you’re doing wrong if this field reads “fur coat”, especially if the Date field indicated summer and the location was the Sahara or Thar Desert.

 

The H field of the Exif Data contains details about the hair on the photographer’s scalp. In conjunction with the G field (Gender field) this can give valuable insights into what went wrong – or – right – in making a shot. As, for example, bald males are more likely to get good portraits of women (since research shows that women find bald men sexy). Dandruff and / or unwashed hair spoils a shot… you get the picture. My H field used to read “long flowing locks, occasionally tied back in a ponytail” till around twenty years back, of late it reads “receding, parted from left to right, slightly tousled.”

 

The FH field contains details about the facial hair of the photographer. What’s important is it does not read “itchy – to self”. Mine usually reads “stubble, a few days old”.

 

The F field contains a simple “Yes” or “No”, and indicates whether the photographer flashed or not when taking the shot. It is highly improper to flash, trust me you’re not likely to get good shots if you flash. Unless of course you’re looking for genuine expressions of shock and disgust.

 

WARNING: Flashing can get you arrested. You may even be set upon by a mob that may beat you to within an inch of death  / lynch you . NOT RECOMMENDED.

 

Regarding the F field reading in my shots: It reads “No”. I don’t flash, I’m not a pervert.

 
 

The WRM stands for “What Really Matters”. It usually – quite mysteriously – contains a “?”. The field populates itself when the photographer has “got what the game is all about”. That it’s not about f-stops or anything. That while Exif Data can be a good initial starting point to understand exposure and depth of field, it stops there. That Exif Data will not give you a clue – beyond exposure – of just why beautiful photographs are not just snapshots but living, breathing things. When the “photographer” gets this – the WRM field fills itself with What Really Matters…

WRM – Eyes that see, Mind that thinks, Heart that feels. That’s what breathes life into an image.

Moral of the story: There’s Life – and a World – waiting to be discovered beyond Exif. Grow up!

 
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On ‘f/8 and be there’

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Fellig. Arthur “Weegie” Fellig. He’s the guy who responded with that  simple “f/8 and be there” statement when asked how he consistently came up with those outstanding photographs that he made. And in making that statement he alluded to what was a philosophy of sorts that hinted at how to go about making great images…

 

A philosophy that in my humble opinion is  understood by few people, totally misunderstood by most. And I must hasten to add that this-here post is going to be frowned upon by many a “photographer”, but then I’ve never been known for pulling my punches. So here I go again, upsetting a couple of hundred souls as I’ve done before…

 

To understand what Arthur Fellig meant, a bit of background is called for. Arthur Fellig was a photographer and photojournalist, known for his stark black and white street photography. Working  in Manhattan, New York City’s Lower East Side as a press photographer during the 1930s and ’40s, and he developed his signature style by following the city’s emergency services and documenting their activity. Much of his work depicted unflinchingly realistic scenes of urban life, crime, injury and death.

 

Now, think about those terms above. Specifically “unflinchingly realistic scenes of urban life, crime, injury and death”, “photojournalist”, “city’s emergency services and documenting their activity” for a while, and three very obvious things should come to mind:

 

  1. Arthur Fellig had an uncanny instinct – a flair of sorts – of being exactly where the “action” so as to put it was playing out

  2. His compositions (the co-relationships) – between so-called subject, supporting subjects and context were highly effective in making an image. An image that…

  3. … literally transported  viewers of the image to the location, made viewers see the scene as it was through Arthur Fellig’s eyes. And most important , actually feel what it must have been like to be there.

 

When asked how he managed to do so – and so very consistently at that – Felig simply responded with “f/8 and be there”. And therein lies the tale.

Let's start with the f/8 thingie, shall we?

I’m going to get just a wee bit technical here, but ever so slightly. So if you feel you’re technically challenged (no such thing IMHO, it’s just that you haven’t met an instructor who could simplify it enough. Till now, at least!), rest easy! You won’t even feel a hiccup!

 

All cameras have an opening in their lens through which light is admitted, light that then goes on to strike either film or a digital sensor. This opening in the lens is called the aperture. With me so far? What a foolish question, of course you are!

 

It follows that any opening must have a size. In the context of  the opening in the lens (the aperture), that size is represented by a value that we’ll call Aperture Value (extremely imaginative, ain’t it?). And just like millimeters are represented as mm, centimeters as cm, meters as M etc., Aperture Value is represented as f-value, or more commonly f/value. And I’m not going to ask if you’re with me so far, because I already know the answer.

 

Trust me, it ain’t important to understand just why it is so, but f/values have the following typical… well, values:

 

f/1.4,   f/2,   f/2.8,   f/4,   f/5.6,   f/8,  f/11,  f/16,  f/22,  f/32,   f/44

 

Now, repeat after me: “I am not going to get scared by what Neville has to say, he will make it clear as clear can be!”.  Good, read on…

 

The f/value determines what is called the Depth of Field or DOF. And before you go  “Help, what’s this DOF thingie!!!!”, let me state that it’s really very simple.

 

Think of some of the photographs you’ve seen. In some of them, everything from foreground to background is clear, in sharp focus. And in some of them, only some things are in sharp focus, other objects in the background and / or foreground being rendered as soft, dreamy and out-of-focus.  So what’s that got to do with that DOF thingie, and what’s it got to do with f/value?

 

When your camera lens focuses on any damn thing, it will be in sharp focus. In addition, there will be area in front of what you focused on, and behind it that will also be in sharp focus. That, in simple terms is DOF or Depth Of Field – the area in front of – and behind the subject focused on – that will also be in sharp focus.

 

Essentially, images with everything from foreground to background (typically landscapes) have a large DOF, while most portraits where the subject is in sharp focus and the background is blurred have a small or narrow DOF.

 

OK, so you’re nodding your head in understanding, but are still wondering what that’s got to do with our f/value. 

 

Here’s how it goes: The smaller the value part of the f/value, the smaller (narrower) the DOF. And, the larger the value part of the f/value, the greater (larger the DOF). Or to put it simply – all other things being equal, a photograph taken at f/16 will have a large DOF, while a photograph taken at say f/5.6 will have a much shallower DOF. The three photographs below illustrate this; from left to right they portray images with a shallow Depth of Field (thanks to a small f/value), a medium Depth of Field  (courtesy a medium f/value) and a large Depth of Field (owing to a large f/value).

 

Clicked on the Pushkar Camel Fair leg of my annual Five Stops of Light India Photography Tour, the photograph above  is a classic example of the the use of a shallow Depth of Field. Seeing as I did the very real sense of closeness between these two friends, my objective was simple: To highlight the joy of the meeting between two friends after a long gap of time. I cropped closely to eliminate everything that would take away from this sense of intimacy. It was also important that nothing in the background take away from what I wanted to portray. The solution was simple: A small f/value(f/4 or f/5.6)  resulting in a narrow depth of field.

In the case of the image above, what caught my eye was the colorful turban and muffler sported by this camel herder leading his camels to the fair. The camels in the backdrop are important to this image, providing as they do the much-needed context of what this image is all about. However, it was important that the camels – and the people behind them – not be so clearly in focus that they would take away from the herder in the foreground. Hence, I decided to use a medium f/value – typically f/8 or f/11 –  which would result in elements behind the man dropping out of focus in a gradual fashion.
Photography Tour Varanasi
In the above photograph, the man in the foreground serves several purposes, but he is not what the image is about. What the photo is about is the sheer sweep of the ghats at Varanasi. What was called for was to ensure that everything from the man in the foreground to the distant buildings far in the background is in relatively sharp focus. Achieving this called for a large Depth of Field, a large f/value (f/16, f/22 or larger) being what the doctor ordered.
 
Simple, ain’t it? That f/value thingie and its relationship with Depth of Field.  But it still doesn’t explain that “f/8 and Be There” admonition.
 

Fellig's f/8 fetish

When asked how he managed to get the images he did, Fellig would just go. One But why f/8? The answer is to be found in the very nature of his work – work that involved photographing urban life, streets, photojournalism…

 

Now think about all these genres and you’ll realize that there are times when – depending on what would have been unfolding in front of his eyes – Fellig would have needed to either (a) render everything from foreground to background in sharp focus, (b) have the focus drop off in a nice gradual fashion, or (c) only have the main subject in sharp focus and throw everything else dramatically out of focus. And of course, as we saw above, he’d have to essentially achieve either of these results by changing his f-value. Seems simple, till you think about just how rapidly real-life events play out out in the context of urban life, street photography and photojournalism…

There’s no scope for error. No question of posing of subjects. All you get is an fraction of a second to decide on what f-value to use, and set it!

Let’s try and visualize this, shall we? There’s Fellig out there in the street and he sees this thing unfolding in front of him that tells the story. And he needs to photograph it with a shallow Depth Of Field with an f/value of  f/5.6 or lower. Except that the f/value on his camera is set to f/16. So there goes Fellig turning that dial that changes the f/value, and several turns at that to get to f/5.6. Except that by the time he gets there.. “Oops! Sorry Mr. Newspaper Editor, but I couldn’t get the shot. My camera wasn’t at the settings called for, and by the time I got around to setting them the moment had passed…”

 

Or, how about this:

 

There’s Fellig out there in that  street again and he sees this thing unfolding in front of him that tells the story. And this time he needs to photograph it with a large  Depth Of Field with an f/value of  f/16 or higher. Except that the f/value on his camera is set to f/4. So there goes Fellig again, turning that dial that changes the f/value, and several turns at that to get to f/16 . Except that by the time he gets there.. “Oops! Sorry again Mr. Newspaper Editor, but I couldn’t get the shot this time across too. My camera wasn’t at the settings called for, and by the time I got around to setting them the moment had passed…”

 

Of course one can’t be certain, but I have a lurking feeling that  Mr. Newspaper Editor’s reaction wouldn’t be much different than that of J. Jonah Jameson – the editor of the The Daily Bugle newspaper where Spiderman held his day-job!

 

And that’s where Felling’s f/8 fetish stems from. Let’s look at it in greater detail, starting with that list of f/values I listed out towards the top of this post.

 

f/1.4, f/2, f/2.8, f/4, f/5.6, f/8, f/11, f/16, f/22, f/32, f/44

 

And viola! What do we see? That f/8 is right there in the middle. It’s middle-ground, offering a compromise between a shallow depth of field and a large one.

 

Essentially, if Fellig set by default a f/value of  f/8 before he went prowling those streets, he would be in a position to make a shot which struck a fine balance between everything being in sharp focus on the one hand, and contextual elements being slightly out of focus. If there was no time – not even a split second – to change his f/value, he’d just take the shot. And the chances would be that the shot would achieve its objectives of showing what he wanted to show. Yet, that’s just part of it…

 

The other part to the f/8 bit is that being in the middle, it’s not too far from either end. Essentially, if Fellig had a moment or two to change his settings based on whether he wanted a shallower or larger depth of field, being at f/8 ensured he could get to his desired f/value faster, with far fewer turns of the dial.

And that’s that about the f/8 thingie in Fellig’s equation; why he chose to keep his camera by default on that aperture value. I’d encourage you to do so too. Time we moved on to the second part of the equation I think.

 

"and Be There"

“Be There”. That – according to me – is the most misunderstood part of Fellig’s equation on how to go about making great photographs. The misunderstanding stems on account of two things: (a) paying too much attention to the f/8 bit in Fellig’s formula(essentially, the technical issues of photography, thinking it’s all about the camera), and (b) thinking that “being there” is about being at a place in the physical sense.

 

“Wait a minute,” did I hear you go? “What the hell else would it be? Of course you need to be there to make an image of whatever is unfolding! How else would you get the shot?!?!?!”

 

That’s what went through your mind, didn’t it? Thanks for admitting it! And therein lies the problem.

 

The mistake that many a photographer makes – as did I – is about paying attention to the “There” in “Be There”. In the process, they ignore the importance of both the word “Be” in itself, as well as that of what’s really implied in the sum total of the words “Be There”. And since a picture is worth a thousand words, I think an image or two would best illustrate this…

Varanasi Photography Tour Varanasi Photography Workshop
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Even a cursory examination of the above two photographs makes one thing obvious: Impeccable Timing. Not just in capturing the action, but capturing it in a fashion, and that very moment when – as Henri Cartier-Bresson described it – “… the elements are in perfect balance”. And that’s the ideal photograph for you – when all the disparate elements come together just perfectly in a cohesive whole. Without it, there’s an imbalance. Without it, there’s chaos. Without the elements being in perfect harmony and working together, the eye is lost – and a picture is broken.

 

The trick hence lies in seeing the confluence – the coming together – of elements to form a cohesive whole. Coming together – again to quote Cartier -Bresson – “for maximum emotional impact“. Seeing it before it happens, anticipating it, visualizing it. And then taking the shot when it does happen…This is Being There.

 

Being There is not being there physically. Think about just how many “photographers” go to Varanasi. Or Ladakh. Or anywhere. They’re all there physically. But how many come back with really evocative photographs? Evocative original photographs, and not mere copies of the compositions of others? Few and far between, I’d think.

 

The reason is this: it’s not about the f/8, f/anything, ISO-anything or Shutter-speed-anything. It’s not about the “being There” either. What it is about really is Being Wherever You Are!

 

What do I mean by “Being”? It’s a heightened state of awareness. Of the world around you, its building blocks, and how they are connected both to each other and to you. That, is Being. And when you can just Be, you can be that state – for that is exactly what it is, a state – anywhere! You are – literally with eyes, mind, heart and soul – wherever you are! That’s why I say my gear consists of “eyes that see, a mind that thinks and a heart that feels” – that’s Being.

 

And that’s the single most misunderstood part about Fellig’s “f/8 and Be There” formula. It’s about Being. It’s more about You than it is about Place. ‘Nuff said!

 

Ooops… almost forgot about the bit where it’s time about the shameless plug. Scroll below, willya?

 
 

from snapshots to great shots

the art of seeing

Photography Workshop

“Because Photography is just this: Being!”

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Darshan – What a Timeless Indian Tradition Can Teach You About Photography

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She raised an eyebrow. “This photograph? You want to use this to illustrate what you wish to put across?? I’m not too sure it’d cut the grade. Even you’ve got to agree it definitely doesn’t rank amongst the best of your images, given its lack of clarity and sharpness. And some highlights are obviously blown out. I can understand it’s a cell phone shot, but couldn’t you use a better picture to talk about what you want to?”

 

I could understand where she was coming from, the photograph – the one that graces the top of this page – having been taken with a humble MotoG, in 16:9 aspect ratio at that (which essentially meant the camera had a maximum resolution of 3.4 Megapixels), and on a dull overcast day to boot. Neither the best of cameras nor the best of days to be making images. Especially when it came to making an image of what I chose to illustrate what is the topic of this post. But then, there’s more to photography than the camera, and – if I may be given the liberty of punning – there’s more to photography than meets the eye.

 

“Drishti, that’s one of the reasons I’ve chosen to use this image,” I said. “The fact that it is not a technically perfect image. The imperfections. And of course, because it symbolically and literally communicates the message I wish to put across.”

 

“Which is what??” she asked. “I’m sorry, but this photograph is surely not the best of images when it comes to the topic you plan to write about – Darshan.”

 

“Be patient, kid. I’ll get to that,” I said. “But first, I have a question for you: what appeals to you more – a technically perfect photograph taken by a ‘photographer’ who’s mastered exposure but didn’t know why they were taking an image? Or, a technically imperfect sketch made by a child depicting a family outing?”

 

 

“The one made by a child, of course,” she replied. “But that’s not you, you aren’t a child drawing imperfect lines, and you aren’t a photographer who doesn’t know why they’re taking a photo. You’re capable of….”

 

 

“Hold it there,” I said. “The issue here isn’t what I am or am not. The issue here is why a drawing – with all its imperfections – made by a child is more appealing to you than a technically perfect photograph taken by a photographer who doesn’t know why he or she is taking a photograph. Care to think about this?”

 

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, I could see her mental gears turning. “Because that child felt something when it made that drawing?”

 

“Bingo,” I went. “Because that child was there in that picture! Not in there necessarily as a subject – the child could have drawn just its parents – but in there emotionally, in the act of making that drawing.”

“Ansel Adams!” she exclaimed. “Was that what he meant when he said…”

“That is exactly what Adams meant,” I said. “When Ansel Adams stated that ‘There are always at least two people in a picture – the photographer and the viewer’, amongst the many things he was alluding to, was that it is imperative for the photographer to feel something before taking a shot. That is ‘putting oneself in the picture’, that’s why we usually end up liking a child’s drawing more than a thoughtless photograph. If the photographer doesn’t feel anything, the chances are that the viewer won’t either. Because the photographer wasn’t ‘in it’.”

 

“I get it!” Drishti exclaimed loudly. “But I still can’t see what it has to do with the topic at hand – Darshan!”

 

“Patience, young grasshopper,” went I, making like Master Po. “I’ll come to that in just a moment. But first, tell me this: those terms we used – ‘being in there’, ‘feeling something’ etc., – could you come up with a word or two that sums that process up?”

 

It took her a minute for her to revert, but when she did, the words brought a smile to my face.

 

“Involvement”. “Participation”. “In touch with”.

 

“I couldn’t have put it better, Drishti! Those were exactly the words I wanted to hear! The child’s work appeals to us because we somehow feel – through her oh-so-childish drawing – her level of involvement, and her degree of participation in what was happening there. We sense the very real connection between what she feels inside her to what was happening on that outing. We sense her efforts – efforts that come out so beautifully – in expressing her impressions of that outing. And that is Art – Expressions of Impressions. And it’s only possible when what’s inside is in touch with what’s outside. And the child can do it flawlessly because what matters to her are just she and her impressions. And our ‘photographer’ fails because he has totally neglected what matters, concentrating instead on the camera.”

 

She looked at me in wide-eyed amazement. “That’s just so true! I never thought of it that way.”

 

“Wait,” I said, leaning towards her. “We’re not through yet. We’ve still got to deal with ‘Darshan’, remember? What does that term mean?”

 

“Well, you know what it is – that thing we Indians do in temples,” she said carefully, wondering if it was April 1st. Or so I figured based on her wary expression.

 

“Terms! Define your Terms,” I said, the pit bull in me coming to the fore. “You know what a stickler I am for clear and concise definition of terms, girl! Or, at the least, tell me what it is we do in temples that constitutes Darshan.”

 

I could tell she knew I was getting to something, the way she paused before speaking, choosing her words with care. “I’d say Darshan constitutes us looking at the presiding deity in the temple,” she ventured.

 

I knew that one was coming. I just simply knew it. And I had my response ready. “Looking at? Or, gazing at?”

 

“Eh? Aren’t they the same thing?”

 

“Well, not really,” I replied. “Looking at something is you know… well, you look at it for a moment and move on. Gazing on the other hand has connotations of lingering for a period of time. And while this may seem elementary and unconnected to our discussion, bear with me for a few more moments. I’ll show you just how deep this rabbit-hole goes!”

 

“O.K., so tell me,” I continued. “Going to a temple, standing before the idol of a deity and looking – or gazing – at it because either (a) one has been forced to do so by one’s elders, (b) everybody else is doing it, (c) it would be impolite or disrespectful to not do so, or, (d) it’s the done thing… Do any  of these things constitute Darshan?”

 

“Of course not,” she shot back. “That’s mere mechanical form! There’s no reverence behind it, no devotion, there’s no…”

 

She paused thoughtfully. And then her eyes went wide as saucers as her palm slapped her forehead. “Oh My God, I get it!!!”

 

I just smiled. “Go ahead, say it. There’s no what?”

 

“There’s no Feeling. No Connection,” she said, her eyes still wide in wonder. “No connection between perceiver and the object of perception!”

 

She’d got it. Well, almost all of it. All that was left for me to do was fill in the blanks and connect the dots.

 

“Drishti,” I said, then paused for effect. “What exactly does it mean? Your name. What does it mean, Drishti?”

 

“Vision,” she said, a confused look on her face. To be wiped off a moment later with a look of comprehension.

 

“Nope,” went I. Vision is something far deeper. The wordDrishti actually means “Sight”, to look at. It is a function of the eyes. It is something we all do. The ‘photographer’ who takes a picture without knowing why he’s taking it has Dhristi, as does a person who merely looks at the idol in the temple – or gazes at it without feeling and connection. All this is Drishti. Drishti is mere looking, Drishti is mere sight. Nothing more.”

 

“And Darshan?” she ventured.

 

“Tell me, when you’ve gazed at the idol in a temple with real feeling, have you at times experienced the idol gazing back?”

 

“Yes, many a times,” she said.

 

“And it was only when the intensity of your feeling towards the idol was… well, quite intense, isn’t it?”

 

“Absolutely,” she said, a bit confused about what I was pointing to.

 

I rested my elbows on my knees, leaning forward. “Remember what I often say with respect to photography: that if you really, really observe something for long enough, it’ll literally tell you how to go about photographing it. Have you tried – and experienced – this for yourself?”

 

I wish  that I had a camera to photograph her eyebrows. They shot so high they almost went off her scalp.

 

“Oh yes I do! My God, I can’t believe the similarities,” she exclaimed.

 

“They’re not similar, they’re the same thing! That something that you observe which tells you how to photograph it — it really cannot tell you how to go about photographing it. Nor can the idol gaze back at you. Not literally. Not unless there is something more at work, and that more has nothing to do with mere Sight – nothing to do with Drishti. But rather, it has everything to do with you – with your feeling. That feeling – and there is nothing exclusive to religion about it – is what in India is called “Bhaav” or Emotion. It is this Bhaav that cements the connection – the link – between the object of perception and the perceiver. It is this connection – and this alone – that is responsible for the child being able to make an emotive drawing of a family outing. It is this connection – and this alone – that makes an inanimate object speak to you on how it should be photographed. It is this connection – and this alone – that makes the idol gaze back. It is this connection – and this alone – that all art, all photography, all music is all about at the end of the day!”

 

I paused, my response having emptied my lungs of air. She was silent, soaking in what I’d said. A few seconds passed before I continued.

 

“That connection,” I went on, “is all that matters. And that connection is entirely within you being the perceiver. Being within you, it is distinct from Sight (Drishti). It is – and I cannot emphasize this enough – it is beyond mere looking, beyond mere sight. It is literally  In-sight! A feeling, no matter how fleeting or  transitory, of the relationship – the connection – between you and your… call it whatever you wish to, they’re all the same at the end of the day: object of affection, devotion, observation, perception, what you wish to photograph… It’s the same thread running through everything. Do you understand what I’m saying, Drishti?”

 

She chose not to answer my question. She just smiled and went “The camera really doesn’t matter, The Connection does. That’s Darshan!”

 

I smiled back, knowing that the time for words was over. Drishti had had her Darshan.

 

(Strange as it may sound, to be continued)

fine art print - boat on the river yamuna

Boat on the river Yamuna, India

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“It is in looking too intensely at a thing that we often miss out the beauty of things around it.”

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The Making of  “Boat on the River Yamuna, India”

Yes, the reason for visiting Agra is to photograph the Taj Mahal, but in focusing too much on the Taj, many a visitor often misses out the visual wonders to be found around it. Like this boat on the river  for example.

Just behind the Taj runs this river. And for centuries has the ferryman plied his trade here, ferrying passengers from one bank to the other. Nothing extraordinary about it, not until you look at it with different eyes.

What caught my eye was the play of light, the expanse of space, and the relative stillness of the scene that presented itself to me. The ripples in the water were few and far between –  there was a sense of balance and harmony even as the players in the scene played out their respective roles. Click! And the image was made!

In post-processing I chose to give an impressionist feel to the image, while cropping it to a square format; the better to give it a feeling of balance and harmony.

Another image that ranks as a favourite, this one! Brilliant play of light, gorgeous tones, subtlety of lines… printed on canvas, this fine art print comes across as an impressionist painting.

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