Are Your Photos Taken or Made?

                                    Behind the Gare Saint-Lazare, by Henri Cartier-Bresson.

“Photos are not taken, they are made...”

This statement is mostly attributed to Ansel Adams, though I think he simply was the first really famous photographer to say it. Ansel went on to elaborate: his approach to photography was to carefully plan and execute the way in which the images he captured would ultimately express his impression of the scene. Therein lies the controversy of this statement.

There are those who feel that photography should be as objective a representation of reality as possible. They feel that photos are indeed taken, not made, and that the skill of the photographer comes in using his tools and experience to capture the moment as accurately as possible, with as little work being done after capture as possible. Anything more than minimal processing needed to ensure a technically suitable final image is considered altering reality. And photography, unlike painting, is intended to represent raw reality as much as possible.

So, which is best? Is it to put a lot of work into making a photograph that represents the photographer's impression of the scene? Or is it to put effort into presenting a scene as realistically as possible? It would seem these creative ideologies are in opposition. They are actually just two sides of the same coin, and that coin is planning.

The photo at the top of this page is “Behind the Gare Saint-Lazare”, one of Henri Cartier-Bresson's most famous images. It is the essence of his “decisive moment” philosophy of photography, where the most important aspect of an image is that instant in time which tells a story like no other. I don't want to go into too much analysis of this amazing image (things such as the leaping figure on the poster in back which many people fail to notice). I want to point out that as spontaneous as this photo appears, HCB put a lot of planning into it. (some even argue that he staged it, repeatedly asking the man to make his leap until HCB captured the decisive moment.)

Henri Cartier-Bresson based much of his ability to get the decisive moment on careful planning. He would pick locations carefully, sometimes scouting in advance of the time of day when the lighting would be best for the photo he wanted to capture. He would watch what was happening, seeing how human activity might ebb and flow over the course of time. Then he would pick the right location, angle, time of day and activity he wanted to capture, then wait for the decisive moment. (And yes, luck did play a part in his success at times.)

I point this out because I've notice that many of the “photos must reflect reality” folks tend to cite HCB as an inspiration for that, yet think he just walked around with his camera hoping that great photos would materialize in front of him. He seldom did that. Great street photographers seldom leave any more to chance than they have to.

They observe. They explore. They watch for patterns in both the static elements and in human behavior. They wait patiently. They plan ahead so that they are anticipating rather than reacting.

Question: How often do you just grab your camera and head out hoping to encounter suitable subjects, and depend as much on luck as on skill to capture good images? Not that there is anything wrong with a “photo walk”. It's just that it's not always the best way to get the best images at times. Some photographers will even scout certain locations without a camera, just observing things and seeing how the light changes during the course of time and how people move through the scene. Then they come back at the right time of day to capture the images they are seeking. (That's where luck starts to come into play.)

Try it. Try just taking a walk, without camera, through a park or section of town, taking the time to see how the light is, studying the best locations to shoot from and the most interesting angles. Then come back when the light is going to combine with the subject to get the best results. Above all, be patient. You might even have to come back repeatedly before you get “The Shot”. The Decisive Moment image that you can take great pride in.

Sure, this doesn't always work with certain subjects and situations. But I wager that if you do this more often, you'll find yourself spending less time editing out photos you just don't like, and more time making photos you really like display worthy.

Improving on Ansel Adams?

Ansel Adams's iconic "Moonrise, Hernandez New Mexico". No photo is perfect, but this image is a full a realization of Adams's vision for the scene as he could achieve. Yet some people think they can "improve" on this image.

Recently a regular on a popular photography website started a thread in which he attempted to “improve” Ansel Adams's iconic “Moonrise, Hernandez New Mexico”. He explained why he felt his version was better. All he did, really was crop with a narrower aspect ratio and cut out a portion of the sky. The result was a photo that in his mind was obviously better, inasmuch as it drew more attention to the town in the foreground and left the moon hanging in a smaller expanse of sky.

It also proved he had no real idea why the photo is considered one of the great masterpieces of 20^th Century photography.

Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that the areas of “negative space” that cause the town itself to seem less of the subject, as well as isolating the moon itself, is a major reason the photo is considered a masterful work. (Adams actually tried different crops before settling on the final one we normally see.) Adams broke or stretched a number of accepted conventions of composition, which is why the photo stands out.

A short time later, on the same forum, someone else started a thread asking people if they had drawn any inspiration from Adams and other “old masters” of photography. For me, at least, it was no surprise to see a number of people sniff at the idea that they should take inspiration from Adams and others. That's fine, to a point: we all find some photographers and photographs to be inspirational, and others to be in styles we simply don't relate to.

What struck me is the reason some gave for their dismissing the importance of Adams and other masters of photography. They implied-or said outright-that they think Adams and others are overrated. That's an incredibly bold statement, especially coming from some people whose best work amounts to technically precise photos of their cats or gardens.

Lest people think I'm being some sort of photography snob, let me say a couple of things. First, I have various levels of skill and experience in a variety of creative media. In addition to photography, I'm also a musician (I play multiple instruments and attended Berklee College of Music); a writer and also have enough “connections” among painters and sculptures to understand the perspective on life being that sort of visual artist entails. Among these various disciplines, photography is the one that most invites “elitist artistes”: people who think they represent a much higher level of ability than they actually have, not only in producing their own work, but in critiquing the work of others.

I believe the reason for this is how “easy” it can be to get certain results, especially with today's digital imaging devices (not just dedicated cameras, but smartphones as well. The days of having to thoroughly understand exposure, focus, color, light/shadow and other technical aspects of photography are long gone. Technology allows people to produce images that are technically outstanding (at least in their own view). The ongoing problem with this is the conflation of technical quality with what actually makes for a truly attention grabbing or evocative image.

The forum in question is just one of dozens on a website devoted to digital photography gear, not the photographs themselves. That's the thing about photography, it's so gear driven that a given model of camera can, in a technical sense, provide “better” images than a different model. People can be impressed by the technical quality of otherwise mundane photos.

I see this all the time on various websites. Someone posts what they think is a really good portrait. Others immediately chime in about how sharp it is, how great the exposure is, etc. Meanwhile, I (and others) are noticing that the lighting is less than flattering. The pose is a bit awkward. The framing of the photos and placement of the subject are poor.

Being able to recognize these aesthetic/compositional flaws takes experience, and ideally a bit of training. It's a process of constantly learning and improving which is independent of, yet interwoven with, technical skills and the capability of gear. What I see is that many people pick up a decent camera, wanting to get “pro level results” the marketing folks promise, and settle at seeing sharper, better exposed images with “creamy bokeh” as a sign that they have reached a certain pinnacle as photographers.

At that point, it doesn't take much to nudge certain personality types into the realm of “The Elitist Artist”. These are people who have decided that since they really like their photos, and often have friends or relatives who think they are really good photographers, that they have earned a level of respect usually reserved for people who have actually garnered such accolades from skilled photographers and others who have the right experience in determining how “good” a photo is.

The idea of “good” photos takes a sometimes bizarre turn. People will lug out the old “I consider it art, so it is” argument commonly used to excuse a lack of genuine proficiency in producing images (whether photographic or other) that aren't nearly as “good” as the artiste thinks. That's because they use their own definition of “good”, rather than recognizing there is a consensus among skilled photographers, editors, collectors, critics and museum curators as to what sort of photo is worthy of putting in a magazine or on a gallery wall, and what isn't.

Often, what the experts note as making a photo stand out from the crowd can be subtle aspects that most people don't recognize or appreciate. It's not that the experts inherently smarter or better at analyzing photos. It's often just a matter of training and especially, experience. I recognize this in my own evolution as a photographer.

For many years, I didn't “get” the photos of Gary Winogrand, and certain other photographers whose work encompassed points of view and subtles I simply didn't recognize. Then I found a quote by Gary Winogrand:

“Photography is not about the thing photographed. It's about how that thing looks photographed”.

Yeah, took me a while to wrap my head around that. Then I examined my own thinking about what the purpose of a photograph, at least in how Winogrand was thinking, actually is. I had spent years in photography hoping to capture images that were as realistic as possible, or at least presented my perspective on a given subject. The assumption behind this thinking is that a photograph actually presents the world in a realistic way. In truth, it doesn't.

Fundamentally a photograph captures a finite moment in time, with a number of variables subjectively controlled by the photographer, of a world that is full of ongoing action and an infinite number of perspectives of any given subject or event. Sure, advances in 3D imaging allow for impressive images that can be rotated and viewed from a potentially infinite number of angles, but it's still a select moment in time, chosen subjectively by the photographer.

What I'm getting at is that for me, I “didn't get” a lot of photographs and photographers' styles because I was comparing the images to my intention if I were to photograph the same subject. That handicaps the ability to examine and appreciate a given photograph as a photograph, because the concentration is on whether or not the image presents the subject in a way we can appreciate or even understand.

That's why I think that the gentleman who tried to improve “Moonrise, Hernandez New Mexico” was missing the point of the photo to begin with. He was wanted to present the scene in a way he found matched his own aesthetic, where as Ansel Adams wanted to present the scene not only as he perceived it, but also how he felt is would look best as a photograph. Personally, coming to recognize this aspect of photographic composition (and to a certain extent, technique) not only led me to a greater appreciation of a number of photographs and photographers I didn't pay much attention to before, but it also has fueled some progress in my own photography.

The second thing I want to make sure is understood is that I do believe everyone is entitled to an opinion, and there will always be those who disagree with a given point of view. The thing is that not everyone's opinion carries equal weight when critiquing the artistic works of acknowledged masters. At times it's semantics: a person may say Adams is overrated when what he may actually mean is he doesn't find Adams's photos particularly appealing. Or he may simply not “get it”.

Still, there are those (as in the case of the forum threads I'm describing) that honestly think they have the critiquing skills to seriously say that Ansel Adams, and others, are overrated. When they say they “don't get it”, they are not admitting to their own limited understanding of what makes for great photographs. What they are saying is that they think those who “do get it” are somehow ill-informed or lack critiquing skills.

Sure, you'll find this in any creative medium. However, reaching such an attitude is, in my opinion, much easier in photography. A musician actually has to practice effectively for a certain amount of time to reach a skill level where others will actually be willing to listen to her play or sing. From there, a musician is expected to “pay dues” before gaining enough credibility to either question the ability of other musicians, or declare herself some sort of master who can offer authoritative criticism of other musicians.

Part of this is because even someone with no musical training or ability can recognize a bad musician. Playing a guitar like a hack, or singing off key, is recognizable by almost anyone. As I mentioned above, such is not the case with photography. Untrained or inexperienced people, accustom to the middling results they get with a smartphone with dirty lens or a cheap point and shoot, can be so impressed by the higher quality and smoother bokeh of a photos taken with even the cheapest interchangeable lens camera that they assume there was a great deal of skill involved. (Ironically, they also think the opposite: I frequently have people say that I must have a “really good camera” to get the results I do. I do , but others have similarly capable cameras and get much poorer results under the same circumstances.)

So, what am I getting at?

Several things. Don't let technical quality of photos fool others-or yourself-into thinking you're a better photographer than you really are. Be willing to look at and learn from photographs by those who are considered masters, or at least experts, even if you don't “get” the images right away. Don't go around talking (or posting online) with an attitude that surpasses your ability. Mostly, as I often say, just go out and enjoy taking photos of what you want, in the way you want. However, if you seriously want to improve your photography, think about what it is you want people viewing your photos to think and feel, beyond the ubiquitous “nice shot” praises. Avoid the pretentiousness of being an “Artiste” at all costs. Even Ansel Adams remained humble his entire life, and constantly cited other photographers that inspired him. No one is ever such a master that they can't keep learning and improving.

Thinking Inside the Box

"Shooting square" helps this portrait draw attention to the eyes. In a rectangular format,
there would be too much extra space for the eye to wander around in.

I periodically come up with challenges for myself in order to expand and improve upon my photographic abilities, both technical and aesthetic. This is a long accepted practice, and I've (usually) found it does help me “think outside the box”. Most of us can fall into creative habits which can not only limit what we produce when it comes to our images, but leave us in a rut as well.

I'm starting 2019 thinking inside the box. A 1:1 box that is. Square photos.

Why am I doing this?

There was a time when a great number of photos were being taken with cameras that shot in square format. 2 1/4” square (120 film format) twin lens reflex, and then later single lens reflex cameras were once the choice of professionals and enthusiasts. They wouldn't do a wedding or portrait shoot with anything less. Even amateurs would find themselves “shooting square” with a variety of “box cameras” and lower end models, such as the various “Brownie” iterations and the 126 Instamatic of the 1960s.

One advantage of square format cameras is there is no need to change the orientation of the camera for “portrait mode” as is done with rectangular format cameras. This can also be a bit of a disadvantage, because if you do want to frame a shot in a vertical format, you have to crop off a portion of the frame. Still, this wasn't that much of an issue when cropping from 120, medium format cameras because the resulting image would still have more detail than that taken with most 35mm films.

However, various factors-most notably the growth in popularity of 35mm cameras as well as the 110 Instamatic, rectangular format, mostly with a 3:2 ratio, has pretty much taken over photography. The exception is still professional or enthusiast use where medium format dslrs are preferred.

So then, why shoot in square format?

Good question.

I already crop rectangular images to square compositions regularly.(I shoot Olympus m4/3 cameras, which happen to have a native 4:3 ratio). Sometimes an image looks best that way, especially portraits. Often I “previsualize” an image that way while I'm composing in the viewfinder. (Previsualization is an important aspect of creating strong and appealing images.) Other times, I decide in post processing that an image will look better in a 1:1 ratio.

Since my mirrorless cameras allow me to set a 1:1 format that appears that way in the viewfinder, I've decided to “go retro” in a way and do most of my personal work that way for the next few months. The goal is to force myself to think of compositions in terms of the benefits and constraints of a 1:1 ratio.

I had my camera set to square format, so this is what I saw in the viewfinder. I switched
to 4:3 format and didn't see a composition I liked as much as this.

Aside from the afore-mentioned benefit of not having to turn a camera on its side to compose an image, there are some aesthetic opportunities afforded by shooting in square format:

• The “Rule of Thirds” takes on a different dynamic. The squares and intersections of the Rule of Thirds are equally distributed within the frame, which can both help or hurt using this technique for composing.
• The dreaded “dead center” framing can actually work well in square format. This is because there is less “dead space” along the sides.
• The format itself creates a different emotional/aesthetic response in the viewer. It can create a more “static” appearance: it actually leads the eye to stay within the frame more. This can either lead to boring photos, or force better use of not only Rule of Thirds, but “S” curves, triangles and other methods of composition that make for more engaging images.
• "Negative Space" can create a decidedly different effect than when used in rectangular formats.
• Square format stands out from the multitude of rectangular images people see every day.

So, if you're looking for ways to broaden your photographic horizons, give “shooting square” a try. In fact, you don't even need to “shoot square”. You can always just go back through your existing images and experiment with cropping in 1:1 format if you don't already. Still, this doesn't get the creative juices flowing quite as much as actually making captures in 1:1 format.

If you have a mirrorless camera, you can probably already set it to 1:1. It will only produce .jpegs in that format: RAW will still be rectangular. Many smartphone cameras allow for setting 1:1 ratio. There are also smartphone apps you can download that offer this ratio. Compact cameras are a mixed bag: some allow for 1:1 shooting, some don't. You'll just have to check the menu to find out.

If you shoot with a dslr, you're pretty much stuck shooting rectangular and cropping in post. This is where previsualization comes in, which is a good thing to work on anyway. It can take time and practice to look through a rectangular viewfinder and see the image as a square composition, but you can do it if you are patient. People shooting 35mm cameras did this for decades.

Give thinking inside the (square) box a try. You might find it opens up levels of creativity you haven't touched on before.

Sometime It Really IS the Photographer.

Annie Liebovitz is one of my favorite photographers. She has so many masterful aspects of her craft. She knows how to create just the right lighting. She has a unique (and often copied) skill at setting up marvelous shots that can boggle the mind. Yet she also can take simply staged portraits that reveal much about the subject. It's hard to say which is more impressive: her commercial work or her portraits.

As far as I know, for pretty much most of her career, Annie has used Nikon. Currently she also uses Sony and Hasselblad. Still, for as long as I have been a fan, Nikon has been her mainstay, at least when it comes to “35 mm format” gear.

But her real “gear talent” is in using various flashes, lighting modifiers, reflectors, diffusers etc. to create lighting effects that people in the industry instantly recognize as being her style. The cameras and lenses she uses would not matter as much if she didn't understand light and her subjects and how to use all the tools at her disposal in a masterful way.

I have a friend: let's call him Gil to protect his privacy. He's been into photography about the same length of time Annie Leibovitz has been an established pro, almost 50 years. He too uses Nikon, and has stuck with it for his entire involvement in photography. He is a serious enthusiast, so he uses pro level gear, just as Annie Liebovitz does. He's even dabbled in becoming pro, but in his words “never got the right break”.

Gil has pretty much the same gear as Annie (a lot of photographers own the same gear as their favorite pros). He has about the same number of years using that gear. He has solid knowledge of how to use his cameras, as well as general concepts of lighting equipment and other “accessories” vital to photography. Yet, even if I revealed his name, you would have no idea who he is. A google search would only turn up his online gallery and Facebook page. There wouldn't be site upon site displaying his masterful work, or lauding his accomplishments as a photographer.

When it comes down to it, Gil is essentially just another G.W.C. (Guy With Camera).

Not that Gil doesn't love and enjoy photography. He does immensely. Still, he blames his failure to launch a pro photography business on “not getting the right break”, which is only partly true. I mean, he has the same gear as so many successful pros. He knows how to use it. What was it that kept him from getting his break?

It could be argued that he lacked business acumen or simply determination. However, I've seen many of his photos, and the reality is he lacked (and still lacks) real aesthetic imagination. A personal style. Even just some aspect of his photos that doesn't look like he's trying to copy one of his favorite pros.

Gil is technically a very good photographer. His knowledge and skill when it comes to using his gear on a technical level is outstanding, “professional level” in every way. The detail in his photos, the exposure, the color: all show he definitely has mastered his gear. The problem is they are highly detailed, well-exposed, wonderfully colorful photos of ordinary subjects captured in ordinary ways. Even when he tries to stretch himself, it's basically to try to copy some photo that has caught his eye.

Copying admirable photos is a great launchpad into improving both technical and aesthetic ability. That's Gil's problem: failure to launch. He is content to copy what someone else has done, in an albeit technically excellent way, and that's it. He's satisfied that he's done the same thing the pro he has copied has done.

Gil doesn't understand that his technical mastery is only part of the process of producing outstanding photos. It really can be, as the saying goes, the photographer rather than the gear.

That's not to say that good gear isn't important. In some genres, the right gear is essential. The fact is, though, that Annie's gear is a tool to realize her photographic vision, and that includes an assortment of lighting equipment that can literally fill up a delivery truck. Realizing her vision is also why she has always used an assortment of cameras and formats, as each photo, each assignment can have unique requirements in order to bring her vision to fruition.

But Annie Leibovitz years ago recommended the iPhone for people (non-professionals) asking about what kind of camera to buy. I can't confirm it, but I suspect she uses one for her personal “snapshots”. That wouldn't be unusual, since I know of a lot of pros who leave their “pro kits” behind and rely on simpler tools for their personal photos.

There are in fact a lot of professional shoots being done with iPhones or other smartphones. Here's the thing: in most cases, the lighting equipment is virtually the same, it's just the camera that is different. While some enthusiasts gush about how “pros demand” the utmost in image quality, the reality is a pro doing fashion shoots is at least as interested in taking photos that set him apart from hundreds or thousands of others doing fashion shoots. For some, using an iPhone has been the factor that sets them apart.

My point is to encourage people to not sell themselves short if they don't have premium gear. Look at photos you admire. Learn how they were made. Then find out how to produce images along the same lines with the gear you do have. Don't worry if the image quality isn't on par with photos taken with top of the line pro gear. Only be concerned that you are enjoying what you are doing, are making an effort to produce photos that are yours, rather than just copies of someone else's photos, and that in the end you can look at your photos and show them off to someone else with a smile on your face.

Full Frame Furor? Look Smart(phone).

Nikon Z7 MILC, Photo by Nikon

Nikon and Canon recently announce their “Full Frame” mirrorless interchangeable lens (MILC) cameras, along with a few lenses. Reactions are mixed, from unrealistically enthusiastic to ludicrously negative. In the Micro Four Thirds camp (of which I'm a part) there was a near panic on some of the forums. 

 A lot of Micro Four Thirds users suffer from a gear angst and feelings of image inferiority already, especially at the hands of Canon and Nikon fanboys. For these folks, their one “ace in the hole” was certain advantages mirrorless has over DSLRs. For these people, having the two leading DSLR manufacturers enter the MILC race with Full Frame offerings is a direct threat to their gear of choice (more on why later). This angst was aggravated further by the rumor that Panasonic will be announcing a Full Frame camera on September 25^th.

Interestingly, while a panic-stricken contingent of Micro Four Thirds users are squawking like “Chicken Little” about how their preferred camera format is doomed, a number of Canon and Nikon owners are just as incensed about problems they see with the Nikon Z series and Canon R series. You'd think these cameras were abject failures to read some of the comments from disappointed camera owners.

It's all really a tempest in a tea pot, and something average people wanting to take the best photos possible don't have to take seriously. The vast majority of photos being produced and shared right now are taken with smartphones, and that number is increasing. So too is the quality of smartphone photography, both in overall capability and the resultant images. (Incidentally, the growth of smartphone photographic capability has fueled the angst felt by people using dedicated cameras, and common push back is to belittle smartphones and the photos taken with them. Don't listen to those folks.)

In the midst of this, “serious” photographers, or people who want to get serious about photography, may swear they must have a Full Frame camera. They must also have the best, fastest lenses to make the most of the Full Frame sensor. It's easy to drop $10K on a basic Full Frame kit, and still find yourself wishing for more.

Yet many of these Full Frame aficionados are producing essentially the same images they could get with the better smartphones. It's true, because much of the genuine need for certain capabilities of a camera depend on subject matter and shooting conditions, then another big aspect is “end use” (how the photos are displayed and why).

With some variation, about 70% of photos people make and share are taken of subjects that can easily be handled by any recent smartphone. The flagship models can handle even more situations.. One reason for this is because something like 90% of the photos shared nowadays are shared online, and most of those on social media sites such as Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram etc. Without going too deeply into the technical aspects of sharing photos online, especially through social media, suffice it to say that you don't need a Full Frame camera when it comes to image quality.

In fact, you really don't need any dedicated camera with a sensor larger than the better smartphones offer. Internet browsers simply don't offer the resolution and color space produced by even 1” or Micro Four Thirds sensors, much less Full Frame. The majority of people view said photos on smartphones and tablets, so high resolution isn't a factor when viewing on such small screens.

For the great majority of people, Full Frame is overkill when it comes to image quality. So, why do certain people clamor about it (in both positive and negative terms) in nearly obsessive ways? Various reasons.

They claim they need the lower noise and wider dynamic range that Full Frame offers, even though neither are really a factor in how other people may enjoy their images. For pros, this may be a bigger factor than amateurs, but not nearly as much as some Full Frame enthusiasts claim.

They claim they need the higher resolution to produce the sharpest images. See what I said about about browsers and how most people view images.

They talk about shallow depth of field and “creamy bokeh”. This is a complex subject and despite the talk of certain pundits, Full Frame is not a cure all for those desiring shallow depth of field and creamy bokeh. Knowledge of photography, specifically the variables that affect depth of field and bokeh, is as much a solution to the issue as gear.

They cite how “real pros” use Full Frame cameras. OK...so how does that justify spending thousands of dollars to take photos of pets and petunias that end up online in galleries only a few people visit? 'Nuff said on that one.

These are the biggest reasons people give as to why they “need” Full Frame. Really, it comes down to that they want it, not need it, and often it has more to do with ego and bragging rights than actually producing the best possible images. In my experience, only a small percentage of Full Frame owners are able to take full advantage of the format.

In fact, I'd say that in terms of IQ, most ILC owners I have seen could get by with one of the latest smartphones. There is some real justification in situations where smartphones still fall short, such as fast action, very low light, or the need for very wide angle or longer telephoto lenses. Even the bokeh argument is becoming moot as smartphones have come out that use computational photography, and even multiple lenses, to reproduce the depth of field and bokeh effects that Full Frame offers.

Why is it some people have to justify their desire for Full Frame by citing technical advantages, and why the angst involving whether or not a Full Frame camera makes the grade? Because a lot the most vocal camera owners invest much of their sense of worth and accomplishment as photographers in the gear they own. They bought into the marketing hype that they must have a given camera to produce professional level images, and that is what they fancy themselves doing.

I've found, however, that many of these people haven't taken the time to learn how a pro actually produces those marvelous images Full Frame fanboys say they need their cameras to produce. So they subject the world to an assortment of high resolution, low noise photos of pets, flowers and their kids, as though we all are going to look as closely at the technical aspects as they do.

We don't.

Sure, they have the right to own whatever gear they want. Buying Full Frame gear helps the manufacturers' bottom line, which can go toward making lower tier, smaller format cameras more affordable. You know, the ones that most people haul out for birthday parties or soccer games when they know their smartphones aren't quite up to the task. The cameras that make up 85% or more of total ILC sales. The cameras that many owners find they are using less and less as smartphones become more capable.

What's the bottom line I'm getting to? Don't buy into the current furor about Full Frame cameras, whether positive or negative. At least don't let anyone convince you you need a Full Frame camera. They probably don't need one: they just tell themselves that because saying it's just that they want one seems less impressive to those who don't know any better.

The fact is, that if you want longer lenses, or better capabilities when it comes to capturing fast moving subjects or low light events, any ILC or MILC made within that past 5 years will be a huge advantage over a smartphone. If you find yourself wanting a Full Frame camera, however, right now is a great time, because the choices are expanding greatly. This means that not only are there more choices, but also that older Full Frame cameras are going to drop in price, and that more used models are going to start showing eBay and Craigslist.

The Moment In Between

The Ronstadt Brothers. CSPS Hall, copyright Eyeguess Photography 2017 

Most people who are serious about photography have at least heard of Henri Cartier-Bresson. He was a master photojournalist who popularized the concept of “The Decisive Moment'. That's an instant in time where the elements of a photograph-the positions and action of the subjects, the lighting, all the other factors-are captured in a way that makes the whole greater than the sum of the parts. It's an ideal behind journalistic and spontaneous photography that most aspire to and on occasion achieve just right.

In sports it may be the moment a bat strikes a ball or a receiver snags a pass with his fingertips. In wildlife photography it may be the moment a bee alights on a flower or a grizzly bear snatches a leaping salmon in mid air. In photojournalism it may be the moment a soldier is truck by a bullet or a flaming building explodes. Whatever the case, we see such photos and are duly impressed by the image. They encapsulate nearly everything we expect from photography: capturing an instant in time in a way that can impress it upon memory indelibly and eternally.

I'm not going to talk about “Decisive Moment” photos because that's been done. A lot. By photographers and critics more experienced, knowledgeable and skilled than I am. Instead, I'm going to talk about “The Moments in Between”. That is, photos that fall into place before or after what people would consider “The Decisive Moment”. Sometimes these photos actually work better than the ones that show the expected result of a “Decisive Moment” capture.

As I mentioned, most people seek “The Decisive Moment” because it's what they are looking for. It's what they think the viewer wants to see. For working photographers, it's certainly what an editor or client is willing to pay for. They are “money shots” because most of the time they capture the essence of an event.

Sometimes, however, it's what happens between the peak of action that can help a viewer better connect with the subject of a photo or the event captured. Sometimes what happens before or after “The Decisive Moment” can be more visually intriguing than the moment itself. I remember a photo I saw years ago of a lion that had just missed catching an antelope and was trying to regain her balance as she slide in the dust.

Or it may be something that happened in a different spot than the peak of action. On a regular basis we see photos of a defender who slipped and missed coverage, laying on the field in disgust, watching the completed pass result in a touchdown or a goal being scored.

This is part of my own approach to performance photography. Some of my better photos are of moments in a show that are not peak moments. Sure, everyone loves to see the leaping guitarist or the singer at the height of emotion. That's not all there is to a concert though. I've been on stage many times, and can tell you that there are times when a performer drops into a certain zone. There may be a band, or entire orchestra on stage, but the musician is lost in the music, and there's only his/her self and the music that exists at the instant in time.

It's these “Moments in Between” peaks of action that I actively seek to capture whether I'm shooting musicians, dance or theater. To me, such images can say much more about the human beings on stage than peak action photos. They can give an insight into the art of performing as well. By freezing seldom considered, transitory moments from a performance, people get a chance to study that moment, and consider, perhaps all that goes into bringing music, dance or theater together into the shows people love to see.

Take the above photo of The Ronstadt Brothers in concert at CSPS Hall in Cedar Rapids, IA. A second before, and a second after, this instant, the musicians were each either looking at another band member or the audience. Yet in this image, they are all absorbed by the music, by their performance. To me, it evokes the feeling I often felt on stage of having the world just fall away and all that existed was the music I was making, and how it was meshing with the music others were making that I heard in the background.

These are sublime moments which every musician recognizes are the key to making beautiful music on stage. Yes, it's important to remain cognizant of what other players are doing, and work together to ensure everything comes together as seamlessly as possible. However, the reality is that ultimately, playing music is about self. No matter how much cooperation there is on stage, each musician is still ultimately trying to fill his own world with the best music he can create.

To me, a photo like this one captures that feeling almost perfectly. A juxtaposition of people both isolated and working in close concert to produce beautiful music. It's a feeling that's hard to describe for those who've never performed music on stage.

So, while pursuing ideals of “The Decisive Moment” is a worthy (and to some extent vital) goal photographically, it's important to also think about the “Moments in Between”. I'll readily admit that the “hit rate” of such images can be lower. Often such captures do indeed look like “missed it by that much” photos that should be mercilessly subjected to the DEL key.

Mercilessly, but not too quickly. Take enough time to study the elements of such photos to see if they tell a story that a “Decisive Moment” photo doesn't tell. That's often the measure of true success of a photo, telling an effective story, a unique story. Sometimes that story is best told by an image that might otherwise be overlooked in the rush to produce eye candy that everyone expects to see.

The "Secret" to Better Photographs?

If left to the marketing people from various camera manufacturers, the key to making great photographs is to buy the latest cameras they have to offer. Sure, you may have done that a couple of years ago, but that camera no longer produces photos as good as its replacement. They even have lab test data and professional endorsements to back up that claim.

The situation isn't helped any by the thousands of “experts” on various photography websites who claim they must have certain camera features to produce the best photos they can. Certainly better high ISO performance can help produce clearer low light photos. There's no doubt that better auto focus speed and accuracy can help with sports or wildlife photos. The question is whether these make for better images.

By that I mean: does the image you are viewing strike a chord with you? Does it resonate in some way that evokes certain emotions or thoughts? Does it leave you thinking about what you viewed even after you have stopped viewing it?

These are important questions to ask yourself when considering what a “good” photograph is. Granted, for most situations, what people are really looking for is an in-focus, pleasantly-composed image that captures the moment for future viewing. The fact is that today, smartphones can do that for about 75% of situations. For those times when things like long lenses or high frame rate or high ISO performance are needed, even 5 year old dslrs and milcs can do more than most people really need.

A visit to any photography websites with public forums (such as dpreview.com) will demonstrate that many of the expert hobbiests and enthusiasts who take great pride in the quality of their bleeding edge gear are taking photos that could be done just as well with cameras 5 or even 10 years old. For that matter, when it comes down to showing on the internet or average sized prints, smartphones from the past couple of years have more than enough output.

There are a lot of average, even mediocre photos being taken with the latest, top quality camera gear. So why aren't these photos really good, or even great, given the cameras used are supposed to give that level of result?

Because the people using the cameras are looking to the wrong source of real “goodness” of their photos.

“It's not the camera, it's the photographer” is a common phrase, and fundamentally it is the great truth behind producing the best photos. Laying aside certain obvious technical limitations or requirements, it's the mind behind the making of an image that counts the most. This involves both the technical understanding of how cameras work in conjunction with light and shadow, color and form, but also the creative spark that drives a person to produce photos to begin with.

There's no secret to learning to produce good, or even great photos. Having suitable gear and learning to use it well is the easy part. The thousands of technically great, but aesthetically uninspiring photos out there prove this. What is often overlooked is inspiration. By that I mean having a sort of photographic muse, a reference point from which you assess your own efforts at achieving the best, most-satisfying photos you can.

That inspiration comes from other photographers (or even painters). Any photography instructor worth his/her salt will tell you to look at the work of as many notable photographers as you can. Study their images. Pick the ones you find most inspiring, those images that make you think “I wish I could take a photo like that” and find out how it was done. Pick a few favorite photographers and learn about them: their lives, their techniques, why they produced the sort of images they did.

I say this because in a recent discussion on photography, I cited two well known sports photographers. Someone replied that he had no idea who they were as though they must not be that good if he didn't know about them. Granted, he may simply not have enough of an interest in sports photography to know of any famous sports photographers, but his ignorance is only one of many examples.

This ignorance of past masters a problem I see a lot among photographers today. I see people talking about how they can't produce certain images because their gear doesn't focus fast enough, or doesn't have a high enough burst frame rate, or the high ISO performance isn't clean enough, etc. The fact is that in the past none of these technical limitations prevented photographers from producing classic, iconic images.

That's why I say the “secret” to producing the best photos is to study past masters. Immerse yourself in their images. Let the thoughts and emotions you experience looking at them dominate your thinking. Bask in the emotional, aesthetic aspect of the photos for a while. After you gain some understanding of what the photograph makes you think and feel and why it does, then start considering the technical aspects of the photo.

The average person relates to an image based on the emotional impact it has on them. Most people don't look at an image and immediately think about what lens was used or whether it's suitably sharp or how bad the high ISO noise level is. They judge a photo by an emotional response that occurs within about 3 seconds of viewing it. It's mostly the gear-oriented enthusiasts who first think in terms of technical qualities of a photo.

My own “first inspiration” came from W. Eugene Smith. Since then I've added many photographers to the list of those I study, but he was the first whose photos made me really stop and think about how, and why, I wanted to produce images similar to his.

I can guarantee that if you spend more time studying the photos of great photographers than you do visiting “how to” websites or forums populated by self-proclaimed experts, your photos will improve. This is because you have to know what great photos look like in order to try to accomplish the same thing. Here's a good website to get you started:

Digital Photo Mentor

(Normally I would recommend the Masters of Photography website, but it appears that no one is maintaining it lately and so a lot of the images don't even load).