What we see, and when we see it
Standing next to a friend who’s a professional photographer, I know he’s aware of everything that’s going on in front of him – and quite a bit that’s happening behind, too. The wind is blowing this way, which means that in a minute the clouds will part and the sun will shine. It’s worth waiting, even if you're backed into a prickly bush to get the right viewpoint. When it comes, the sun will shine over there, setting this door surround into rich and picturesque shadow while making the paintwork of the door shine beguilingly. There’s a telephone wire over there, so we’ll move a little to the left so that it doesn’t form a distraction in the frame. On the other hand, there’s a woman in a red polka-dot dress up the road: in a minute she’ll walk into shot and her dress will make that green door glow all the more as she passes it. The pulse increases. Sun, shadow, door, dress, all in perfect alignment. The decisive moment. The Leica makes its barely audible click. And on we go to the next shot.
Naturally I try to learn from this example, but it’s slow going. I am still apt to make the beginner’s mistake of concentrating too closely on the main subject, to the exclusion of all else, and ignoring intrusive distractions at the edges of the frame. Of course, back in the studio (formerly the darkroom) even the professional photographer discovers unexpected things lurking in the shadows or on the edges, as the film Blow Up showed.
Not, I’m glad to say, that I’ve ever discovered anything as sinister as the corpse that the David Hemmings character in Blow Up discovers when he starts enlarging his prints. But even so, odd things crop up. One freezing afternoon in Malmesbury, my thoughts frankly on finding a warming cup of coffee or getting back in the car, I couldn’t resist defying the bitter wind and pointing the camera at this Gothic gateway, leading into the abbey churchyard. A bit of Georgian semi-gothic, with Y-tracery in the windows but a semicircular archway: a picturesque mishmash, in fact. Very satisfactory. Click. When I got home I saw, in the right-hand side of the frame, on this bone-chilling day, a chap erecting a folding chair. It really is remarkable what you see in photographs.
So much condensed into that first paragraph, Phil. I love the insight into what might be going on in the photographer's mind. And the randomness of the man with the deckchair next to the forbidding gatehouse, like the torturer's horse, perhaps, scratching its innocent behind on a tree.
ReplyDeleteThere could have been much more in that first paragraph: traffic - avoid or include? - the configuration of clouds... It just goes on and on...
ReplyDeleteThe man was putting out the deckchair for a 'Healing in the Streets' weekly event. The gatehouse isn't a gatehouse but a 17th century prison and Malmesbury is in Wiltshire not Worcestershire. I can see why you concentrate on taking photos.... ;-)
ReplyDeleteThank you! I didn't know about the event. I do appreciate the extra information that comes through readers' comments. I really don't know what possessed me when I put Malmesbury in Worcestershire - of course it's in Wiltshire; I've corrected the heading to the post. I've corrected the post. I see that it's listed as having housed lock-ups, but it's surely not 17th century, is it? The architecture is very 18th-century looking.
ReplyDeleteExcellent Phil, folding chairs and folding photographers. But the best bit was you mentioning women in polka dot dresses of course.
ReplyDeletePeter: Thank you. We get one another's drift, I think.
ReplyDeleteIt could be late 17h Century with the Y tracery, either way a charming building.
ReplyDeleteWonderful article. It reminds me of the time when I stood on one side of a very busy street running through Lyme Regis and waited a good half hour to photo the building on the opposite side without traffic or pedestrians...and on a Saturday too! Well worth the wait, and fortunately no corpses (perhaps we could use that as a euphemism for unseen and unexpected bits appearing in the pic). ;) I'd have happily enjoyed finding the man with a folding chair, mind. Great stuff. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for this Eileen, and your other generous comments.
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