DIVIDING THE FRAME

Any image, of any kind, automatically creates
a division of the picture frame. Something
like a prominent horizon line does this very
obviously, but even a small object against a bland
background (a point, in other words) makes an
implied division. Look at any of the pictures in
this book which comprise a single small subject—
shifting the position of the subject changes the
areas into which the frame is divided.
There are, naturally, an infinite number of
possible divisions, but the most interesting ones
are those that bear a definable relationship to
each other. Division is essentially a matter of
proportion, and this has preoccupied artists
in different periods of history. During the
Renaissance, in particular, considerable attention
was given to dividing the picture frame by
geometry. This has interesting implications
for photography, for while a painter creates
the structure of a picture from nothing, a
photographer usually has little such opportunity,
so much less reason to worry about exact
proportions. Nevertheless, different proportions
evoke certain responses in the viewer, whether
they were calculated exactly or not.
During the Renaissance, a number of painters
realized that proportions of division based on
simple numbers (like 1:1, 2:1, or 3:2) produced an
essentially static division. By contrast, a dynamic
division could be made by constructing more
interesting ratios. The Golden Section, which
was known to the Greeks, is the best known
“harmonious” division. As outlined below, the
Golden Section is based on pure geometry, and
photographers almost never have either the need
or the opportunity to construct it. Its importance
lies in the fact that all the areas are integrally
related; the ratio of the small section to the large
one is the same as that of the large section to the
complete frame. They are tied together, hence the
idea that they give a sense of harmony.
The logic of this may not seem completely
obvious at first, but it underlies more than just
the subdivision of a picture frame. The argument
is that there are objective physical principles
that underlie harmony. In this case, they are
geometric, and while we may not be aware of
them in operation, they still produce a predictable
effect. The subdivision of a standard 3:2 frame
according to the Golden Section is shown
opposite. Precision is not of major importance,
as the photographs show.
The Golden Section is not the only way of
making a harmonious division. It is not even the
only method in which the ratios are integrally
related. Another basis, also from the Renaissance,
is the Fibonacci series—a sequence of numbers
in which each is the sum of the previous two:
1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, and so on. In yet another method,
the frame is subdivided according to the ratio of
its own sides. There is, indeed, a massive variety
of subdivisions that obey some internal principle,
and they all have the potential to make workable
and interesting images.
This is all very well for a painter or illustrator,
but how can photography make sensible use of
it? Certainly, no-one is going to use a calculator
to plan the division of a photograph. Intuitive
composition is the only practical approach for
the majority of photographs. The most useful
approach to dividing a frame into areas is to
prime your eye by becoming familiar with the
nuances of harmony in different proportions.
If you know them well, intuitive composition
will naturally become more finely tuned. As
photographers, we may be able to ignore the
geometry, but we can not ignore the fact that
these proportions are fundamentally satisfying.
Notice also that, by dividing the frame in both
directions, an intersection is produced, and this
makes a generally satisfying location for a point,
or any other focus of attention.

PLACEMENT

In any construction involving one, obvious
subject, other than filling the frame with it,
there is always the decision of where to place it,
remaining sensitive to the proportions of the
space surrounding it. As soon as you allow free
space around the subject, its position becomes an
issue. It has to be placed, consciously, somewhere
within the frame. Logically, it might seem that
the natural position is right in the middle with
equal space around, and indeed, there are many
occasions when this holds true. If there are no
other elements in the picture, why not?
One compelling reason why not is that it is
very predictable—and, if repeated, boring. We are
faced with a conflicting choice. On the one hand,
there is a desire to do something interesting with
the design and escape the bull’s-eye method of
framing a subject. On the other hand, placing the
subject anywhere but in a natural position needs a
reason. If you place a subject right in the corner of
an otherwise empty frame, you need a justification,
or the design becomes simply perverse. Eccentric
composition can work extremely well, but as we
will see later in the book, its success depends on
there being some purpose behind it.
The importance of placement increases as
the subject becomes smaller in the frame. In
the photograph of the sentry on page 15, we are
not really conscious that the figure is actually in
any position in the frame. It is, in fact, centered
but with not so much space around it as to be
obvious. With the photograph of the waterbound
hamlet here, we are made very aware of
its position in the frame because it is obviously
isolated and surrounded by ocean. Some offcenteredness
is usually desirable simply in order
to set up a relationship between the subject and
its background. A position dead center is so
stable as to have no dynamic tension at all. If
slightly away from the middle, the subject tends
to appear to be more in context. There are also
considerations of harmony and balance, which
we’ll come to in the next chapter.
In practice, other elements do creep into
most images, and even a slight secondary point
of interest is usually enough to influence the
placement of the subject. In the case of the stilted
houses, we aware of the position of the sun above
and left; there is an inferred relationship here, one
that makes it natural to offset the houses slightly
in the opposite direction.
Vectors can also influence an off-center
position. For instance, if the subject is obviously
in motion, and its direction is plain, then the
natural tendency is to have it entering the frame
rather than leaving it. I emphasize the word
natural, however, because there may always be
special reasons for doing things differently—and
different usually gets more attention. In a more
general sense, subjects that “face” in one direction
(not necessarily literally) also often fit more
comfortably so that they are offset, so that
some of the direction they “see” is in the frame.
As a rule of thumb, when the setting
is significant—that is, when it can actually
contribute to the idea behind the picture—then
it is worth considering this kind of composition,
in which the subject occupies only a small area. In
the case of the houses in the sea, the whole point
of the picture is that people live in such unusual
circumstances: surrounded by water. Closing in
would miss the point. Unfortunately, moving
further back would only reduce the size of the
houses so much that they would be indecipherable,
although it would show still more ocean.

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.