FILLING THE FRAME

In order to be able to talk about the different
graphic elements in composition, and to
look at the way they interact, the first thing we
must do is to isolate them, choosing the most
basic situations for composing pictures. A little
caution is needed here, because in practice there
is usually a multitude of possibilities, and a single,
isolated subject is something of a special case. The
examples here may seem a little obvious, but at
this stage we need clear, uncluttered examples.
The most basic of all photographic situations
is one single, obvious subject in front of the
camera, but even this presents two options. We
have an immediate choice: whether to close
right in so that it fills up the picture frame, or
to pull back so that we can see something of its
surroundings. What would influence the choice?
One consideration is the information content of
the picture. Obviously, the larger the subject is
in the photograph, the more detail of it can be
shown. If it is something unusual and interesting,
this may be paramount; if very familiar, perhaps
not. For example, if a wildlife photographer has
tracked down a rare animal, we would reasonably
expect to see as much of it as possible.
Another consideration is the relationship
between the subject and its setting. Are the
surroundings important, either to the content of
the shot or to its design? In the studio, subjects
are often set against neutral backgrounds; then
the setting has nothing to tell the viewer, and
its only value is for composition. Outside the
studio, however, settings nearly always have some
relevance. They can show scale (a climber on a
rock-face) or something about the activity of
the subject.
A third factor is the subjective relationship
that the photographer wants to create between
the viewer and the subject. If presence is
important, and the subject needs to be imposing,
then taking the viewer right up to it by filling
the frame is a reasonable option. There are
some mechanical matters involved, such as the
ultimate size of the picture when displayed, the
focal length of lens, and the scale of the subject
to begin with. Nevertheless, a big subject filling
the frame of a big picture usually acquires force
and impact. Moreover, as the examples here show,
there can also be a satisfying precision in just
matching subject to frame—particularly if the
image has to be composed rapidly.
The shape of the subject in relation to the
format of the frame clearly has an effect. In the
sequence of the Hong Kong ferry on the right,
the main picture shows a very satisfactory fit:
the boat from this angle just reaches the edges all
round. In the majority of single-subject pictures,
however, the focus of attention does not fill the
frame. The shape may not coincide with the
format of the picture (cropping is always possible,
but it is not necessarily elegant, and it may not
suit the intended display method). Another
possible risk with running the edges of the subject
right up to the borders of the picture is that the
eye may feel uncomfortable concentrating on
points falling very near the edges of the picture.
It often needs—or at least benefits from—a little
free area around a subject to be able to move
without feeling constricted.

CROPPING

Cropping is an editing skill that was highly
developed during the days of black-andwhite
photography, lapsed somewhat in the color
slide era, and is now revived fully as an integral
part of preparing the final digital image. Even
when the framing as shot is judged to be fine,
technical adjustments such as lens distortion
correction will demand it.
Cropping is one way of reworking the image
well after it has been shot; an option for deferring
design decisions, and even of exploring new ways
of organizing an image. Unlike stitching, however,
it reduces the size of the image, so demands a
high resolution to begin with. In traditional
enlarger printing, the enlarging easel itself acts
as a cropping guide, but it may be easier to
experiment first with L-shaped cropping masks
on film (on a light box) or a contact sheet. With
digital images (or scanned film), the process
is infinitely easier and clearer, using software
cropping tools.
It is important not to think of cropping as
a design panacea or as an excuse for not being
decisive at the time of shooting. The danger of
having the opportunity to alter and manipulate
a frame after it is shot is that it can lull you into
imagining that you can perform a significant
proportion of photography on the computer.
Cropping introduces an interruption in the
process of making a photograph, and most
images benefit from continuity of vision.

STITCHING AND EXTENDING

Digital stitching software has evolved into
a widely used tool for creating images
that are larger and wider. These are actually
two separate functions. Shooting a scene with
a longer focal length in overlapping frames is
one technique for achieving higher resolution
and so larger printed images—an equivalent
of large-format photography. From the point
of view of this book, however, the interest is in
changing the shape of the final image. This tends
to be panoramic, as long horizontal images have
an enduring appeal for reasons we’ll go into
shortly, but there is also complete freedom, as the
examples here show. What is often overlooked
is the effect this stitching has on the process
of shooting, because it demands anticipation
of how the final image will look. There is no
preview at the time, and this is a situation new
to photography—that of having to imagine what
the final image and frame shape will be. It gives
stitched, extended images an unpredictability
which can be refreshing.
Panoramas have a special place in photography.
Even though proportions that exceed 2:1 seem to
be extreme, for landscapes and other scenic views,
they are actually very satisfying. To understand
why, we have to look again at the way human
vision works. We see by scanning, not by taking in
a scene in a single, frozen instant. The eye’s focus
of attention roams around the view, usually very
quickly, and the brain builds up the information.
All of the standard photographic formats—and
most painting formats, for that matter—are
areas that can be absorbed in one rapid scanning
sequence. The normal process of looking at the
picture is to take in as much as possible in one
prolonged glance, and then to return to details that
seem interesting. A panorama, however, allows the
eye to consider only a part of the image at a time,
but this is by no means a disadvantage, because it
replicates the way we look at any real scene. Apart
from adding an element of realism to the picture,
this slows down the viewing process, and, in
theory at least, prolongs the interest of exploring
the image. All of this depends, however, on the
photograph being reproduced fairly large and
viewed from sufficiently close.
This virtue of the panorama—to draw the
viewer in and present some of the image only to
the peripheral vision—is regularly exploited in
the cinema, where an elongated screen is normal.
Special projection systems, such as Cinerama
and IMAX, are premised on the realistic effect
of wrapping the image around the viewer. Still
panoramic images have a similar effect.
The frame can also be extended in postproduction
in other ways, by stretching (using
warping, distortion, and other geometric software
tools, and even by cloning). Certain images lend
themselves to being extended in one or more
directions—for instance, extending the sky
upwards, or widening the background in a studio
still-life. Magazine layouts often suggest this,
although there are ethical considerations with this
kind of manipulation, in that the final image is
not necessarily as it was seen.

FRAME SHAPE

The shape of the viewfinder frame (and LCD
screen) has a huge influence on the form that
the image takes. Despite the ease of cropping it
later, there exists a powerful intuitive pressure
at the time of shooting to compose right up to
the edges of the frame. Indeed, it takes years of
experience to ignore those parts of an image that
are not being used, and some photographers
never get used to this.
Most photography is composed to a few
rigidly defined formats (aspect ratios), unlike
in other graphic arts. Until digital photography,
by far the most common format was 3:2—that
of the standard 35mm camera, measuring
36x24mm—but now that the physical width
of film is no longer a constraint, the majority
of low- and middle-end cameras have adopted
the less elongated, more “natural” 4:3 format that
fits more comfortably on printing papers and
monitor displays. The question of which aspect
ratios are perceived as the most comfortable
is a study in its own right, but in principle,
there seems to be a tendency toward longer
horizontally (the increasing popularity of widescreen
and letterbox formats for television), but
less elongated for vertically composed images.
THE 3:2 FRAME
This is the classic 35mm frame, which has been
transferred seamlessly to digital SLRs, creating
in the process a sort of class distinction between
professional and serious amateur photographers
on the one hand, and everyone else on the other.
The reason for these proportions is a matter
of historical accident; there are no compelling
aesthetic reasons why it should be so. Indeed,
more “natural” proportions would be less
elongated, as evidenced by the bulk of the ways in
which images are displayed—painting canvases,
computer monitors, photographic printing paper,
book and magazine formats, and so on. Part of
the historical reason was that 35mm film was
long considered too small for good enlargements,
and the elongated shape gave more area.
Nevertheless, its popularity demonstrates how
easily our sense of intuitive composition adapts.
Overwhelmingly, this format is shot
horizontally, and there are three reasons for this.
The first is pure ergonomics. It is difficult to
design a camera used at eye level so that it is just as
easy to photograph vertically as horizontally, and
few manufacturers have even bothered. SLRs are
made to be used for horizontal pictures. Turning
them on their side is just not as comfortable, and
most photographers tend to avoid it. The second
reason is more fundamental. Our binocular
vision means that we see horizontally. There is no
frame as such, as human vision involves paying
attention to local detail and scanning a scene
rapidly, rather than taking in a sharp overall view
all at once.
The net result is that a horizontal frame
is natural and unremarkable. It influences the
composition of an image, but not in an insistent,
outstanding way. It conforms to the horizon,
and so to most overall landscapes and general
views. The horizontal component to the frame
encourages a horizontal arrangement of elements,
naturally enough. It is marginally more natural to
place an image lower in the frame than higher—
this tends to enhance the sensation of stability—
but in any particular photograph there are likely
to be many other influences. Placing a subject
or horizon high in the frame produces a slight
downward-looking, head-lowered sensation,
which can have mildly negative associations.
For naturally vertical subjects, however, the
elongation of a 2:3 frame is an advantage, and the
human figure, standing, is the most commonly
found vertical subject—a fortunate coincidence,
as in most other respects the 2:3 proportions are
rarely completely satisfactory.
Human vision
Our natural view of the world is in
the form of a vague-edged, horizontal oval, and
a standard horizontal film frame is a reasonable
approximation. The final reason is that 3:2
proportions are often perceptually too elongated
to work comfortably in portrait composition.
4:3 AND SIMILAR FRAMES
Traditionally, and once again with digital
photography and on-screen presentations, these
“fatter” frames are the most “natural” image
formats. In other words, they are the least insistent
and most accommodating to the eye. In the days
when there was a rich variety of large-format film,
formats included 5×4-inch, 10×8-inch, 14×11-
inch, and 8½×6½-inch. There is now a reduced
choice, but the proportions all work in much the
same way, and equally for rollfilm formats, digital
backs, and lower-end digital cameras.
In terms of composition, the frame dynamics
impose less on the image, because there is less of
a dominant direction than with 3:2. At the same
time, that there is a distinction between height
and width is important in helping the eye settle
into the view, with the understanding that the
view is horizontal or vertical. Compare this with
the difficulties of a square format, which often
suffers from lack of direction. As noted opposite,
these proportions are very comfortable for most
vertically composed images.
SQUARE
While all other photographic frames are
rectangular, with varying proportions, one is
fixed: the square. A few film cameras have this
unusual format—unusual in that very few images
lend themselves well to square composition. In
general, it is the most difficult format to work
with, and most design strategies for a square
frame are concerned with escaping the tyranny
of its perfect equilibrium.
We ought to look a little more closely at
why most subjects are ill-suited to a square
arrangement. In part, this has to do with the axis
of the subject. Few shapes are so compact that
they have no alignment. Most things are longer
in one direction than in another, and it is natural
to align the main axis of an image with the longer
sides of a rectangular picture frame. Hence, most
broad landscape views are generally handled as
horizontal pictures, and most standing figures
as verticals.
The square, however, has absolutely no bias.
Its sides are in perfect 1:1 proportions, and its
influence is a very precise and stable division
of space. Here lies the second reason for the
unsympathetic nature of square proportions: they
impose a formal rigidity on the image. It is hard
to escape the feeling of geometry when working
with a square frame, and the symmetry of the
sides and corners keeps reminding the eye of
the center.
Occasionally a precise symmetrical image is
interesting; it makes a change from the normally
imprecise design of most photographs. However,
a few such images quickly become a surfeit. It
is fairly normal for photographers who work
consistently with a square-format camera to
imagine a vertical or horizontal direction to the
picture, and to crop the resulting image later.
Practically, this means composing fairly loosely in
the viewfinder, to allow a certain amount of free
space either at the sides or at the top and bottom.

FRAME DYNAMICS

􀀴he setting for the image is the picture frame.
In photography, the format of this frame
is fixed at the time of shooting, although it is
always possible later to adjust the shape of the
frame to the picture you have taken. Nevertheless,
whatever opportunities exist for later changes
(see pages 58-61), do not underestimate the
influence of the viewfinder on composition.
Most cameras offer a view of the world as a
bright rectangle surrounded by blackness, and
the presence of the frame is usually strongly felt.
Even though experience may help you to ignore
the dimensions of the viewfinder frame in order
to shoot to a different format, intuition will work
against this, encouraging you to make a design
that feels satisfying at the time of shooting.
The most common picture area is the one
shown at the top of this page: that of a horizontal
frame in the proportions 3:2. Professionally, this is
the most widely used camera format, and holding
it horizontally is the easiest method. As an empty
frame it has certain dynamic influences, as the
diagram shows, although these tend to be felt
only in very minimal and delicately toned images.
More often, the dynamics of lines, shapes, and
colors in the photograph take over completely.
Depending on the subject and on the
treatment the photographer chooses, the
edges of the frame can have a strong or weak
influence on the image. The examples shown
here are all ones in which the horizontal and
vertical borders, and the corners, contribute
strongly to the design of the photographs.
They have been used as references for diagonal
lines within the pictures, and the angles that
have been created are important features.
What these photographs demonstrate is that
the frame can be made to interact strongly with
the lines of the image, but that this depends on
the photographer’s intention. If you choose to
shoot more loosely, in a casual snapshot fashion,
the frame will not seem so important.

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.

Extreme photo retouching