Closer

One of the assignments for my photo class was to create a self portrait. I have to admit, this was a bit of a challenging one. Being on the shooting side of the lens, I find myself comfortable doing the view finding. When the view is turned back on myself, when I was supposed to reveal myself from the outside in, well that was new. I tried a number of versions, including this one shadow in a field, "Out Standing in My Field." I liked the way the shape created an "A." Outstanding.

But I don't really feel that way. Not yet. I'm still a novice at this photography thing. So I pressed on.


"Closer." That was the image I ended up with for the assignment. I liked the idea because in many way taking photographs brings me closer to who and what I shoot.

After taking a season long series of shots of teams, I get to know the players, their tendencies, their approach to their sport. After spending a series of days in a neighborhood, I become familiar and comfortable with my surroundings and what's happening. Heck, stare at landscape long enough and watch the light change in front of my eyes, I feel more connected to it.

But looking through the lens can only bring me so close to my subject. Photographing might bring me closer, but that closeness is admittedly a bit, shall I say, distorted. Actually being close to something or someone is not a one-way connection. Relationships are two-way. They require both give and take.

My self portrait says to me that photography is a great catalyst to bring me to places where I may not otherwise visit. It gives me the opportunity to encounter people I may not otherwise meet. And while it brings me in proximity of who or what I am shooting, I appreciate that its one-way direction takes me only so close.

What light is inside of you?

As I lined up my camera to focus on taking a shot of the band Ryan Paul and the Ardent (http://www.ryanpaulandtheardent.com/main.html) at last week's Art Crank opening, a guy next to me with his camera looked over and said, "Oh, oh. Competition."

I could only respond, "Never."

The thought that another guy (or gal) with camera shooting the same subject might be believed to be competition, I just don't see it that way. I guess I might understand how someone might, but if I was able to take some time to talk about this with this guy, I would hope he'd gain a new perspective on two of us shooting side by side.

To be sure, I understand competition is not foreign concept. Not in life. Not even in creativity. Working in advertising for some 15 years of my checkered career, I fully get the idea of winners and losers. You win accounts. You lose accounts. And much of that is hinged on an ability to come up with creative approaches and executions.

While working in ad agencies, I admit I wasn't even on the "creative side." Ha. That is what they call it. Either you're on the creative, account, production or media "side" of an agency. Talk about competition. It exists within an agency, much less between agencies. And I realize there are even winners versus losers within creative staffs of an agency. Some agencies even pit creative teams against one another to win accounts or presentations to clients.

So I get it when the concept of competition is applied to creativity.

But it seems to me, competition is more genuinely an internal thing. Those committed, fixated or obsessed with reaching the pinnacle of what we are doing are looking for more than beating the other guy or gal. No, we're looking for reaching our own peak. We're our greatest critic. We look at others' work not not with jealousy nor envy, but rather as inspiration and perhaps motivation. Pushing ourselves because we see that someone has created something that so beautifully, so eloquently, so effectively has expressed their own self or their interpretation of an idea or thought.

When I see that, I can't help but think, "Wow. How can I do that?"

When shooting side by side, I realize that each of us has a unique perspective on the very same subject. Hey, I know I can't say it as well as Wilco says it. I'll just share it and say to myself, "Wow. How can I do that?"

What Light (Wilco)

If you feel like singing a song
And you want other people to sing along
Just sing what you feel
Don't let anyone say it's wrong

And if you're trying to paint a picture
But you're not sure which colors belong
Just paint what you see
Don't let anyone say it's wrong

And if you're strung out like a kite
Or stung awake in the night
It's alright to be frightened

When there's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
Inside of you

If you think you might need somebody
To pick you up when you drag
Don't loose sight of yourself
Don't let anyone change your bag

And if the whole world's singing your songs
And all of your paintings have been hung
Just remember what was yours is everyone's from now on

And that's not wrong or right
But you can struggle with it all you like
You'll only get uptight

Because there's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
There's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
There's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
There's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
Inside of you

The hole that makes us whole

Today's post comes with gratitude to fellow photographer and blogger Mitch Rossow (http://www.mitchster.com/). I asked Mitch for some perspective on a studio shoot I'll be doing tomorrow.

Shooting in a studio new territory for me, but thanks to a willing subject (competitive biker Camilla), a helpful studio (Mpls Photo Center) and Mitch who gave me some insights on studio lighting, I will venture into this shoot tomorrow. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

My conversation with Mitch included talking about what it is to shoot. That is, there is actually a point of time in doing photography when the shooter is actually not working.

That time non-working time is the fraction of time, perhaps ranging from 1/8000th of a second to maybe 30-seconds long, when the shutter is open. (Of course, technically there are exceptions, like when doing slash and flash or shutter dragging, but let's stay with the conventional argument here.)

We laughed at this concept. The idea that the time the photographer is not working is the time fraction of time the shutter is open. It sounded almost absurd. Is a copywriter not working with each keystroke? Is a surgeon not fully engaged in their work with the precise cut of a scalpel? Is a salesperson not working with flow of their words to address a customer's concerns?

The idea that the photographer is not working when the shutter is open, we agreed was more like the sharpshooter's release of the trigger. Once the bullet is out of the chamber, there's little else that can be done to redirect the bullet. Rather, all the time that is spent surrounding the pressing of the shutter, that's work time. Getting in the right place. Setting up the background. Assessing and making adjustments for the light sources. Creating rapport with a subject. Seeing the action develop in front of you and being ready to shoot at the precise moment the action or feeling unfolds. Not to mention all of the post shoot work. Those are the industrious work times for a photographer.

Minneapolis being named this week as #1 bike city in the country draws another analogy. The act of photography is like a wheel. The rim, the spokes and the hub. They're all critical components of a wheel. But what makes a wheel truly functional is the hole in the middle. Without the hole, the void, the negative space of the object, one could not place the axle and employ the wheel to serve to move objects.

Today, I celebrate the hole in the wheel, the void, the negative space, the open shutter. In a perverse way, it gives meaning to what we do.

May your life's blur be behind you.

April 1st. Life seems a blur with how fast time passes.

Even if this feels like the best time of the year, coming out of fun in the snow and heading into fun in the sun, the laps click along.

Spent some of the morning updating the f/go shooting event calendar. Ultimate Player's Association disk Westerns are in Seattle this spring. Would love to figure out a way to make that happen. Velodrome season's already well started out in California and it won't be long here in Minnesota before the sound of those wheels rolling across the wood slatted banks will echo. And of course there's baseball, track & field, rugby and all the regular sporting events with their calendar reminders popping up.

This entry will be a quick one for today. Wanted to post this image I was working on for my photo class. A composition from the previously posted shot that I believe captures the beauty of motion I witnessed and even for a few moments experienced skiing last weekend. Might do more with it, or just leave it as is. Was a good exercise in learning some new techniques on PhotoShop.

While I'm a bit sad to see the ski season end, I'll just keep focused on the present and future. And hope I can keep life's blur behind me.