Let me be honest upfront--this is not a new photo. In fact, if you go back through my blogs you'll see this same guy pop up in 2020. It wasn't a new photo then either. But, I have to say, I've gotten alot of traction from it. It was one of the photos in the portfolio submitted, and accepted, for the residency at the Château d'Orquevaux; and most recently, I'm pleased to announce that it won third place in a small local exhibit.
It's hard for me to accept praise, but even I have to admit that something this audacious deserves attention. And so my analytical brain kicks in and I begin to wonder why. There has to be an explanation beyond it being a pretty picture, or a reasonably skilled photograph. It couldn't just be the bold colors, though I would say that would be the first thing that draws the eye. It also couldn't just be that this guy was so used to being gawked at that he'd learned a few simple human tricks to show he was willing to make a connection, at least for the split second I had the camera ready. "Call me" he's saying, mocking more likely.
So, what was it that made the judge pick this photo, and what was it that made him pick the other four photos out of the dozens of really spectacular photo work in the exhibit? In the descriptions given for each of the winners the expression "pop" was used several times. The winners each popped out apart from the others for reasons having to do with, yes, color, but also contrast to each of the images' backgrounds. Each winner portrayed wildlife, either flowering or animal, as opposed to landscape or architecture--a common theme I see throughout the nature coast region. And, each was simplistic in its subject matter and presentation.
As often occurs when I'm thinking really hard about something, I just happened to read an essay called "Plasticity" in Mark Rothko's journal published as The Artist's Reality, Philosophies of Art. Bear with me, I hope you'll see where I'm going with this. Plasticity, he says, refers to the application of "techniques that use materials which are malleable." Pliable materials such as clay, wax or putty, and even metal allow for dimension in a work; in painting, a literal perspective would be paint so thick as to give relief to a work. For the less literal, that is those art mediums--drawing, painting, photography--which rely on effect, Rothko defined plasticity as a "process in which reality is achieved by causing forms to progress and recede . . . forms and space are realized by making the foremost parts come forward and the parts further removed from the frontal plane recede into the distance." He wasn't talking about color or contrast or even composition; rather, he was talking about the means by which an artist produces the effect of movement in space, and the sensation of reality as physical and tangible or as representative in time as a memory.
Rothko used two individuals looking at, and commenting publicly on, the same work of art, to illustrate his point. One man was an art historian, the other a painter. Immediately you can see how these two men might differ in their perspective--one looks at art for a living, while the other makes it. Rothko begins by observing the differences in these two men's perspectives of a single piece of art as one of seeking reality of tactility versus seeking reality of appearance. In other words, the first gentleman found the work of art to be convincing because he could sense the tactility, the touch, the feel, of the form in the image. There was a totality of sensation, a connection between the eye and the physical matter. The second gentleman, on the other hand, was not at all concerned with the reality, the physical sensation of the work, rather his impression was based on how the image looked given such variables as light or figures shown in the work. Let me try and explain. In the Scarlet Macaw, we see individual feathers, like hairs, we see the ridges of the birds underlying skin, we see the texture of claw and the beak. Our first gentleman, in viewing this piece and trying to reach an understanding of it, would have seen this as something so real you could reach out and touch it, feel the softness of the feathers, the courseness of the claw, the hardness of the beak. A representation of reality he means to capture. Our other gentleman would have viewed this as a reminder of how the bird looked at some point in his past, an illusion of the real life which he possesses as a memory and finds pleasure in its recreation. He's not seeing the fine feathers, or the color variations in the beak, or perhaps even the position of the claw. He's seeing a Scarlet Macaw.
Back to the judge of the local photography exhibit. We learned that he was a professional wedding photographer. Was he looking at the exhibited photos for their sense of tactility, or for the memory they invoked? Was he even the best choice to judge art photography? I would say it is his business to be concerned with both, because, as Rothko pointed out, one rarely occurs without the other, it is merely a matter of emphasis. Each of the photos chosen presented as a flower or animal that was just beyond the reach of the viewer, as if right there, on the other side of a glass barrier. The clarity of color, the sharpness of the image, the subject one we, at least in the nature coast area, have seen in just this way. One which makes an impression that needs only to be pulled from the recesses of our memories. Can a landscape of a place we have never been, or a building which we have never actually stood in front of, or an abstract symbol with meaning only to the photographer, show this kind of movement in space, effect this kind of reaction? Did the other works fall somehow short of being convincing as well as connecting with him as viewer in either way? I believe that this is why the judge selected the photos he did. And this understanding satisfies me in terms of why my photo was one of the selected.
So, my last thought, for another time, is: how do I apply this theory of plasticity, this achieving of the effect of movement in space to my selection of photo subjects? How do I actually plan for the sense of tactility and look of a subject given the variables present when the camera is in my hand? How do I make sure I've captured both the tactile sense and the trigger of a memory sufficiently to ensure a viewer is forced to stop and hold their breath in front of one of my photos, feel a connection? Is it even possible, or am I destined to always regard luck as a viable component of my process.
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