INTRODUCTION

􀀰hilosophical, lyrical, sometimes obscure
commentaries on how photographs are made
and what they mean are thick on the ground,
usually by non-photographers. Not that there
is anything at all wrong with the perceptive
outsider’s view; indeed, the distance of this kind
of objectivity brings new, valuable insights.
Roland Barthes even held his non-understanding
of photographic processes (“I could not join the
troupe of those…who deal with Photographyaccording-
to-the-Photographer”) as an advantage
in investigating the subject (“I resolved to start
my inquiry with no more than a few photographs,
the ones I was sure existed for me. Nothing to do
with a corpus...”).
This book, however, is intended to be
different, to explore the actual process of taking
photographs. I think I’d like to call it an insider’s
view, though that smacks of hubris, because I’m
drawing on the experience of photographers,
myself included, at the time of shooting. A
great deal goes on in the process of making an
exposure that is not at all obvious to someone
else seeing the result later. This will never prevent
art critics and historians from supplying their
own interpretations, which may be extremely
interesting but not necessarily have anything to
do with the circumstances and intentions of the
photographer. What I will attempt to do here is to
show how photographers compose their images,
according to their intentions, moods, and abilities,
and how the many skills of organizing an image
in the viewfinder can be improved and shared.
The important decisions in photography,
digital or otherwise, are those concerned with
the image itself: the reasons for taking it, and
the way it looks. The technology, of course, is
vital, but the best it can do is to help realize ideas
and perception. Photographers have always had
a complex and shifting relationship with their
equipment. In part there is the fascination with
the new, with gadgets, with bright, shiny toys.
At the same time there is, at least among those
who are reasonably self-confident, a belief that
their innate ability overrides the mere mechanics
of cameras. We need the equipment and yet are
cautious, sometimes even dismissive about it.
One of the things that is clearly needed for
successful photography is a proper balance in this
conflict. Nevertheless, there have been very few
attempts in publishing to deal comprehensively
with composition in photography, as opposed to
the technical issues. This is a rich and demanding
subject, too often trivialized even when not
ignored outright. Most people using a camera
for the first time try to master the controls but
ignore the ideas. They photograph intuitively,
liking or disliking what they see without stopping
to think why, and framing the view in the
same way. Anyone who does it well is a natural
photographer. But knowing in advance why some
compositions or certain combinations of colors
seem to work better than others, better equips
any photographer.
One important reason why intuitive rather
than informed photography is so common is
that shooting is such an easy, immediate process.
Whatever the level of thought and planning
that goes into a photograph, from none to
considerable, the image is created in an instant,
as soon as the shutter release is pressed. This
means that a picture can always be taken casually
and without thought, and because it can, it often
is. Johannes Itten, the great Bauhaus teacher in
Germany in the 1920s, talking about color in art,
told his students: “If you, unknowing, are able to
create masterpieces in color, then unknowledge
is your way. But if you are unable to create
masterpieces in color out of your unknowledge,
then you ought to look for knowledge.” This
applies to art in general, including photography.
In shooting, you can rely on natural ability or on
a good knowledge of the principles of design. In
other graphic arts, design is taught as a matter
of course. In photography it has received less
attention than it deserves, and here I set out to
redress some of this lack.
A relatively new element is the rapid shift
from film-based photography to digital, and
this, at least in my opinion, has the potential
to revitalize design. Because so much of the
image workflow between shooting and printing
is now placed on the computer in the hands of
the photographer, most of us now spend much
more time looking at and doing things to images.
This alone encourages more study, more analysis
of images and their qualities. Moreover, digital
post-production, with all its many possible
adjustments of brightness, contrast, and color,
restores to photographers the control over the
final image that was inherent in black-and-white
film photography but extremely difficult in color.
This comprehensive control inevitably affects
composition, and the simple fact that so much
can be done with an image in post-production
increases the need to consider the image and its
possibilities ever more carefully.