No Image Stands Alone

Multiple Exposures Gallery's newly-minted president, Fred Zafran, explains the meaning behind a message.

Some time back, as I was traveling the unmarked road that is photography’s exquisitely winding journey, I came across a cryptic sign.  It read:

“No image stands alone.”

At first uncertain, the meaning (and wisdom) of the message gradually became clear.

As our technique and craft evolve along with the opening of artistic sensibility, we find on

(c) Fred Zafran

occasion that our captured images seem, well… expressive, and perhaps even compelling.  Maybe others seeing our work have said so too.  Now energized, we are driven to create more compelling images, to be open and receptive to finding more.

But… as the desire (the need?) arises to communicate an inner intent and deeper narrative through our work, we find that this is no longer possible with a single image (or a series of disconnected images).  So, it is within the context of the photographic essay (or project) that this communication becomes possible, and an imperative.

Charles Harbutt (Magnum photographer) offers a definition of a photographic essay as a

(c) Fred Zafran

“multi-level picture story that flows primarily from an awareness of the symbolic possibilities of the subject matter.”  He notes that this awareness may come either during the shooting or afterwards… but that there is “more vitality” when it comes later (!)

Working principally as an “urban documentary (street) photographer,” my approach to image making is to head out on the street with camera in hand, and to remain open to the unforeseen.  I have been working on a major project for about 9 months now (I’ll save this for a later Blog post).  But what is of interest, is that during the course of this longer-term project, other small narratives not previously conceived, began making themselves known to me.

Koji Onaka, an accomplished Japanese street photographer (and student of Daido Moriyama) summarizes well this curious process of discovery:   

“There’s not a clear concept before taking my pictures. Photography is procedural and I take photographs of what attracts me, and then later this manifests itself as interests. The subconscious is at play, the work acts as a reminder of what I’m interested in – it’s what

(c) Fred Zafran

caught my eye. There’s not something in particular that is my subject. It becomes a process of self-discovery.”

I will share a recent photographic narrative that appeared as subcontext of my ongoing work, and is becoming a project in itself.  The new project depicts the photographer’s “presence” both conceptually and literally as observer and author of the captured scene – a key compositional and psychological element.  Although still in the early stages of discovery and development (… and uncertain of emerging direction), I have risked sharing a few images in this Blog post.  Maybe this is an examination of the “quantum entanglement” of photographer and the world observed (?)

More to follow…

Thoughts on Style

Should you always remain true to your style? MEG member Eric Johnson shares some thoughts on the topic. 

Several times during a recent group show at Multiple Exposures Gallery, I received a particular comment on one of my images, a desert landscape that I shot in Joshua Tree

Valley Sunrise, Joshua Tree National Park   ©Eric Johnson

National Park.   Viewers who were familiar with my work from previous exhibitions commented that this photo didn’t look like my usual work.  People seemed to like it, but it was so different from the urban landscapes that I am so often attracted to, and also different from the content of the Square Meals show that I had at MEG earlier in the year, that several people felt compelled to comment on it.  I was a bit surprised by this (and pleasantly so), because when I look through my catalog in Lightroom I find plenty of different genres – landscapes, street shots, abstracts – but I have to admit that the work that I most frequently show in galleries and exhibitions does tend to come from a relatively narrow segment of the types of work I produce.

Every photographer should have a style – it is what makes our work distinctive, and it comes from our individual outlook on the world.  It reflects how we see, and it comes from within.

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Bob and Edith’s Diner, Arlington, VA ©Eric Johnson

However, there is some benefit to breaking out of your usual style once in a while and trying some new things.  I recently took classes in portrait photography and studio lighting.  These two areas may not have much direct relevance to the type of photography that I typically do, and I don’t really intend to make a major change in the direction of my photographic career, but I took the classes more as a means of expanding my awareness of other photographic methods and techniques, and to experiment with a different way of using light and seeing its impact on a subject.  I’m sure that these new techniques and approaches will find their way into my photographic style, even though I probably won’t change the subject matter that appeals to me.  But that’s my goal – to keep growing as a photographer while remaining true to my style, but to not get so stuck in one style that I can’t break out of it from time to time.

 

HDR - Love It Or Hate It!

"I’m always and forever looking for the image that has spirit! I don’t give a damn how it got made.” — Minor White

Final HDR Image                      (c) Sandy LeBrun-Evans

Most photographers have an immediate reaction to HDR photography: they either love it or hate it. MEG member Sandy LeBrun-Evans falls in the "love" camp and explains more about her technique.

Why does HDR photography appeal to you? HDR is an acronym for High Dynamic Range, which means that images are composited to extend the dynamic range beyond what our cameras currently can capture. While our eyes can adjust to an image and see the dynamic range, our cameras cannot, so when there is a wide range between light and dark, no single exposure in a camera can capture all of the lights and all of the darks in a scene. By working in HDR, I am able to produce images that include the entire range between light and dark.

Bracketed image examples, light to dark

Your HDR images have a very specific look. How did you develop it? I studied HDR for a couple of years before I made an image that worked for me. I took classes from Dan Burkholder and Tony Sweet and I studied Ben Wilmore’s DVDs on the HDR process. Combining what I learned from all three, I then created a “look” and style that I like for my images.

How do you create an HDR image? To capture all of the lights and darks in a scene, I take anywhere from 3 to 12+ exposures of a single scene. If the scene doesn't have an extreme dynamic range, I set my camera on AV and set bracketing on my Nikon D700 to bracket from 3 to 9 shots (whatever it takes to obtain all of the lights and all of the darks) and shoot. If the dynamic range is extreme, I set my camera to the manual mode and manual focus, bracket by shutter speed, and take as many images as I think I'll need. 

 Composite  .tiff file ready for final processing

I am always on a tripod and I turn off VR (Vibration Reduction) on my lens as VR can cause movement during the capture process.  I then blend as many images as required to cover the full dynamic range in Photomatix software and save the processed image as a .tiff file.  Finally, I take the .tiff file into Photoshop (I'm currently working in PS6) and finish the print as I desire for my final print.

Do you always shoot for HDR or do you only do so for specific images? I usually always bracket when shooting just in case I think I might need to process my image as an HDR image.  You can always spot me — or I should say hear me — because I am the one making that annoying CLICK, CLICK, CLICK... as I capture those 3 to 9 images.

In Pursuit Of Beauty

(c) Fred Zafran

What do beauty, art, Alfred Stieglitz, and MEG have to do with each other? Tom Beck, chief curator at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, and the juror of MEG's current exhibit, explains:

Many think that the beauty of a photograph is a result of having a camera with an exceptionally fine lens or special powers over subject matter.   In his 1923 essay (“How I Came to Photograph Clouds”) Alfred Stieglitz said: “I wanted to photograph clouds to find out what I had learned in 40 years…Through clouds to put down my philosophy of life—to show that my photographs were not due to subject matter—not special trees, or faces, or
interiors, to special privileges—clouds were there for everyone.”  He wanted people to be excited by his creations, not the technique or technology that made them.  The photographs that I judged for the exhibition, indeed call attention to the artfulness of the imagery and not the mechanics, a virtue in our technology dominated era.   

The success of the imagery selected for this exhibition reveals that beauty is necessary to the photographers.  The pursuit of beauty is their way of making images that are true to themselves as artists.  “Beauty is the universal seen,” said Alfred Stieglitz.  He was defining his approach to making, understanding, and appreciating photographs, and, in a sense, setting a standard for making art photography in the future.  The images in this exhibition compare favorably to Stieglitz’s standard.  It has been my pleasure to judge this exhibition and discover the beauty in these photographs.

(c) Five Cherries

An opening reception will be held Thursday, November 14th, from 6pm-8pm, in Studio 312 at the Torpedo Factory Art Center. Exhibit end date: November 24, 2013.

Daily Contemplative Photography Makes A Difference

(c) Colleen Henderson

MEG member Colleen Henderson's new show, DAILY DIFFERENCES, highlights the powerful creative convergence that results when contemplative photography is combined with daily shooting. She shares the backstory below: 
  
Your new show, DAILY DIFFERENCES, contains images you created over the past five years during periods of deliberate daily shooting. What drove you to begin this project? It was a convergence of two things. A “contemplative photography” class I took on a whim, and my longtime interest in pursuing a “365 Project.”  Contemplative photography is a way of stepping back and looking at everyday things, even those that are mundane, with fresh eyes to find beauty within them. At the time, my photographic roots lay firmly in black & white land and seascapes, and night images of DC.  When I felt daring, I allowed myself some latitude by exploring in color, but otherwise I followed a predictable path when making my art.  My exploration of contemplative photography was meant to push me outside of my comfort zone and continue my creative development.

My first assignment was to spend three hours meandering through Cleveland Park, a Washington, D.C. neighborhood, and bring back 10 photographs for “show & tell”.  For the first few hours, I wandered, wondering what I could possibly see and capture that was worthy of sharing and would not reveal me as a photographer fraud. But then something happened.  Images began to appear before my eyes—faster than I could click the shutter.  Over the course of three days I saw—and photographed—my world in ways I’d never imagined.

(c) Colleen Henderson

Where does the 365 Project come in? About the same time, I’d been toying with the idea of a embarking on a “365 Project,” a concept that can be traced back to Jim Brandenburg, a National Geographic Society photographer. In the late 1990’s, Jim challenged himself to make one photograph each day for 90 days.  The results were published in a 1998 book, Chasing the Light.  The images and concept really struck a chord with me and I imagined embarking on a similar project some day. In addition to making images, I also teach fine art photography, and one day I suggested to the members of a class that they consider undertaking a 365 Project. As fate would have it one student embraced the idea and invited (read: challenged!) me to join her.   The timing was right, and besides, how could I refuse?  The rest is history.

You’ve taken this project much further than 365 days. What’s kept you going? I’ve been shooting daily images and sharing them on Facebook on and off for 5 years now.  The rewards have been manifold. I have many new images that otherwise would not have been made, but I expected that.  What I didn’t foresee was the impact it’s had on my photography.  I see and compose better.  I judge less and reveal more.  I have more clarity of purpose.  I better understand light, and how the camera records it.  I’m more mindful of my immediate surroundings. And I’m more playful, confident and creative.

Do you set out to shoot each day or do you always have a camera with you and just photograph something when it strikes you? It varies, but more often than not, my shots are something I capture as I go about my daily business. Coffee and Cream, one of my favorites from the series, was taken when I noticed the juxtaposition of two coffee cups on my counter. Another well-received image in the show captures cherries on a plate in my kitchen. Others, such as Skeleton Tree and Sentinels were taken out in the field during dedicated photo shoots, the former during a workshop I was running in Charleston, South Carolina, and the latter during a sunrise shoot at the U.S. Capitol.

(c) Colleen Henderson

Do you ever worry about running out of material? Not if I stay true to the teachings of contemplative photography. There is always something to capture if we open our minds and eyes to the beauty around us. We can even capture the same thing multiple times, but in different ways, which fosters our creativity.

Your show includes framed fine art prints and beautiful, limited edition, hand bound, books that showcase your images.  Why did you opt for that format? I’ve been studying the art of bookmaking for 15 years and wanted to combine my passion for photography with my love of creating small, handmade books. There’s something about holding an image in your hand that’s much more intimate than simply viewing it on a wall, behind glass, and I wanted to create that experience for people. The books are made of Italian silk, smooth gray suede, and handmade Bhutanese paper, all of it bound together with a special Coptic stitch that allows the book to lay flat when open.  The books are available in limited editions of five. 



DAILY DIFFERENCES is on view at Multiple Exposures Gallery at the Torpedo Factory Arts Center in Alexandria, VA, through October 13, 2013.
 

A Fascination With Old Cemeteries

(c) Michael Borek

MEG member Michael Borek shares his fascination with old cemeteries and what he found on a recent trip to Buenos Aires. 

I am fascinated by old cemeteries, but I am scared of places that are overrun by tourists.  I am from Prague, Czech Republic, and I used to love to go to the old Jewish cemetery in downtown when it was still behind the Iron Curtain and hardly any visitors set foot there. However, that cemetery changed immensely after the fall of Communism and going there now feels like being at Times Square. Even though the scenery is still nice and pleasantly bizarre, it is impossible to enjoy it quietly with the never-ending stream of tourists.

When I was preparing for my trip to Buenos Aires, many people and guidebooks recommended visiting the Recoleta Cemetery. I usually don’t like to visit “must-see” and touristy places, so I was hesitant. I am glad that my curiosity prevailed. The cemetery covers 14 acres, and, if one steers clear of the tomb of Eva Peron and several other luminaries, the experience can be quite private. The whole necropolis feels like a city within city and there seem to be even little “neighborhoods” with their own atmospheres.  It is a true memento mori with grandiose tombs with beautiful Art Nouveau and Neogothic architecture in various stages of disrepair, interspersed with rotting flowers or always fresh plastic flowers, dust, spider webs, and condensation on the windows, rendering everything even more mysterious. 

(c) Michael Borek

In most of these pictures, I tried to capture the sense of transience I felt there. However, there is one photo that is quite different. I became fascinated by a photograph on a tomb of a woman who died in 2010. Next to her traditional black and white portrait that one would expect on a tomb, there is a color picture of her and what I suppose was her car, a Ford Edsel, taken in 1958. There is no question that the car is the most dominant part of the

(c) Michael Borek

picture. And in case some viewer did not understand what he was viewing, there is a caption under the photograph with the woman’s name and the model of her car. Even though this photograph is visually different than the rest of the pictures I took at this cemetery, it seem to complement the others with its postmodern suggestion that a person should be remembered by her beautiful car.

A Journey of Transition

MEG member Blake Stenning shares the story behind a signature image and his transition from film to digital photography. 

(c) Blake Stenning

In the summer of 2009, my wife and I had the opportunity to travel to Malaysia to visit friends living in Kuala Lumpur. During the several weeks that followed, we explored the country’s diverse cities, lush jungles, and exotic islands, and discovered a land rich in history and culture. It was a truly inspiring journey for me, both personally and as a photographer.

At the time, my primary camera was a tripod-mounted, medium format Mamaya 645 film camera. While the picture quality was vastly superior to 35mm film, it required a deliberative process of manually adjusting focus, aperture, and shutter speed, based on exposure readings I made using a hand-held spot meter. The equipment was bulky and heavy, and I was concerned that it would be too cumbersome for overseas travel. However, I had recently purchased a digital SLR camera and began to consider whether I should take that instead. While the image resolution could not compare to my Mamaya, it did seem to be an ideal travel camera as it was both smaller and lighter, and could be used sans tripod. It also featured programmable exposure settings that would allow me to react to situations far more quickly and intuitively. In addition, a single pocket-sized CF card could hold the equivalent of 20 rolls of 120 film. The decision was made, I would go digital.

Over the next 17 days we encountered a vast array of unique and unusual landscapes, cityscapes, people, and cultures – and I photographed them all! While it would be impossible to capture my entire experience of Malaysia in a single image, there is one I made that came close. The scene unfolded outside a small Buddhist temple in the ancient port town of Malacca. I was drawn to the large carved circular portal on the exterior wall and began to compose my shot. As I raised the camera to my eye, a small woman hurried past down the darkened corridor that led to an interior courtyard. As I watched her, it occurred to me that when she reached the end of the passageway her figure would become a stark silhouette framed against the brightly lit background. The result would make a far more interesting photograph, so I paused and waited for the precise moment when all the elements within the viewfinder would align, and made this photograph.

“Passageway” became the signature image for my exhibition, Malaysia Journeys, which hung at Multiple Exposures Gallery in February 2011. To me, it captures the duality of this magnificent land; ancient and modern, foreign and familiar, religious and secular. But it also represents a transition of sorts: from darkness to light, and from film to digital.

A selection from this series will be on display this fall at the National Institute of Health in Bethesda, MD. For more information, please contact Blake Stenning at: blakestenning@yahoo.com.
 

Finding Your Lost Mojo

(c) Clifford Wheeler

As MEG member Clifford Wheeler describes, taking a new class or embarking on a new project can help you get your creative mojo back if it's been dulled by the demands of daily life.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to take a seminar class with a Master Photographer and Educator with whom I had studied in college three decades ago. It seemed like an opportunity too good to pass up, especially since his was a voice that kept coming back to me through the years across occasions and experiences.

Once the class began I soon realized that I would be subjected to something I hadn't encountered in a long time — homework. Lesson #1: If I had been making a conscious effort to create artwork, to make time in my life to actually do the work on a regular basis, then the idea of homework would not have felt so foreign. I seemed to have gotten into some sort of rut over the years where little time was designated to anything other than making a living. Now, I appreciate how limited my energy levels are and that time must be budgeted no differently than finances.

The parameters of the course were as follows: plan a project, execute the workflow, and produce and exhibit the results. One thing about the creative process is that quite often what we first conceive as a plan can often take on a life of its own. Depending on how you interpret the results of the work in progress, we often produce a body of work quite different from the one originally conceived. Lesson #2, Evaluation of progress is impossible without the use of “work prints!” Careful analysis of the aesthetic events revealed is paramount to connecting with your intent, and establishing a direction forward.

For this class project, I chose to create a collection of photographic portraits using some rather archaic tools. I knew from experience that these tools would create the kind of image I wanted, and I suspected they could get me where I wanted to be very efficiently.

Portraiture is different than simply pointing a camera at something and capturing an image. It’s dependent on a dynamic that requires cooperation and collaboration between the subject and the photographer. This was the variable I was counting on for these pictures, because I planned on keeping almost everything else within the confines of the image area consistent.

(c) Clifford Wheeler

To get started, I set my view camera up in a parking space right next to the warehouse building that housed my studio and pointed it at the north-facing wall. I needed a subject and found an auto-body technician named Ray enjoying a smoke break next door and I encouraged him to spend his break in front of my camera. The resulting image was surprisingly satisfying, and it spurred me forward.

In reviewing my work prints (see Lesson Two), one issue was immediately obvious. My little kettle grill, which always sat on the sidewalk next to my studio door, was visible the left side of the image. Keeping in mind the lesson that all objects within an image area should serve or reinforce the subject, I moved the grill for subsequent shots because it added nothing to the image.  For the next two months, when the light was right, I'd round up some suspicious-looking character who was friendly enough to hang with me for a few moments to complete the project.

The portfolio came together nicely and as I spent time with it, I figured out why the class had been called Beyond The Image, a title I could not for the life of me figure out when I started taking the class. When the images were finally exhibited and I saw them hanging on the wall, I realized that the first photo I had taken was in early autumn, and Ray was wearing a t-shirt. The last photo I took was in November of Richard, and he was wearing a down jacket. When I hung the photo's, the chronological progression revealed something truly extraordinary and quite “Beyond The Image” — seasonal environmental change! The only visual change from the first photo to the last photo (besides the faces) was the the incremental bulk of the subject's outerwear.

Lesson #3: For cool stuff to happen, you have to be working!

Drive By: Abandoned Towns and A Lesson Learned

Sandy LeBrun-Evans learned a big lesson when developing Drive By: Utah Preserved In Time, her latest show at Multiple Exposures Gallery. Below Sandy talks about shooting in abandoned towns, what makes her feel jittery when out there alone and a lesson she'll carry with her forever.

(c) Sandy LeBrun-Evans

In this series as well as your prior show, Forgotten, you feature abandoned buildings and towns. What catches your eye and makes you stop as you are driving by? What makes a scene worthy of the time you spend photographing it?  While driving by, I'll just see something that makes me pull over or even drive miles to turn around so I can go back and photograph it. If I don't turn around, the image will haunt me.

Before planning a trip, I Google "abandoned places/towns" in the state where I"ll be.  Once I'm there, I'll travel to the areas I found on the Internet, but I also will find gems just driving by.

What makes the scene worthy of my time is what I see through my lens.  I have stopped places and pulled out the camera and tripod, looked through the viewfinder and then decided, "not so much."  Other times when I look through the viewfinder, it's a definite "yes!" and I will work that scene.  What makes it worthy is that it moves my spirit in some way, something that I think is tied to feelings about what used to take place there before it was abandoned.  If I'm looking at a subject and wondering "Who cooked in the kitchen? Who hitched that wagon to the horse? Who put that fence around the house and watched the children run through the yard?" then I'm probably going to be moved enough to photograph it.

(c) Sandy LeBrun-Evans

I actually view abandoned places differently now than I did even just a few years ago. Given our challenging economic times and people very close to me losing their homes in the housing crisis, I wonder a little more about why something was abandoned. Was it by choice? 

Are there people in these towns or are they truly abandoned? How far are these locations from towns or cities that are thriving? Thompson Springs had 39 people in the 2010 census. I would say there are even fewer now.  I met a man named Spydr Mike when he stopped by while I was photographing there. He gave me his card which read "SPYDR MIKE AND FRIENDS, Local Artists."  He makes spiders out of things he finds, but he would love to have the money to reopen the abandoned cafe in town.  Another person I met told me about the ghost that haunts former boardinghouse and its attached bar.  Unfortunately, I did not see the ghost.  I think Cisco is totally abandoned, but there could be some homeless people living in some of the abandoned cars and buildings. 

There are few thriving cities in the areas where I traveled.  What supported most of the abandoned areas I photographed were mines that closed and roads that bypassed their towns.   From what I have read, I-70 bypassing Cisco and Thompson Springs was the downfall of these two towns.

Are you alone when you shoot these buildings and towns? Do you ever feel uneasy? My husband was with me in Utah, but he stays in the car while I wander around the empty buildings and towns.  I thank him for this because it is not easy traveling with a photographer. I have been spooked while out shooting, but usually it's by dogs. 

Cisco was a little scary this visit.  The number of abandoned cars had really risen.  It appeared to be a dumping stations for things and I just felt I was not alone.  I didn't wander much by myself there.
 
You mentioned you returned to Thompson Springs, an abandoned town that you photographed a few years ago. Did you notice any changes or has it stayed the same in its decay?  I noticed lots of changes in both Thompson Springs and Cisco.  It was not in my plans to return to Southeast Utah and visit Thompson Springs and Cisco, but I just did not find what I was looking for in Southwestern Utah.  Beautiful parks, but I was not finding any great abandoned images. 

(c) Sandy LeBrun-Evans

I did find many changes in both towns. In Thompson Springs, my favorite motel was boarded up and I could not walk through and photograph.  The cafe had a lot morejunk in it and the photograph I had taken two years ago could no longer be composed.  In Cisco, many buildings had completely fallen down and I just had an eerie feeling that it was no longer safe to wander around.   

This brought me to a very big lesson learned on this trip -- shoot, shoot, shoot; don't miss an angle or light; stay in a place until you feel you have worn that town out photographing it because it may be your last chance to do so.  You cannot always go back and reshoot!

What is your process when you shoot? Are you working on a tripod? What types of lenses and apertures do you typically use? On this trip I travelled light: tripod, Nikon D700 with two lenses (28-300 and a fisheye), Lumix converted IR camera, and, of course, my iPhone.  When traveling, I usually try and shoot on a tripod as I know I have to get the image right because I cannot go back the next day and reshoot.   I always shoot a minimum of three bracketed images of my subject.  If I am inside a dark building, I will shoot up to 20 bracketed images.  I try and capture the image so I don't lose any detail in the highlights and lowlights.  Typically, my aperture is set anywhere between F11 to F22.

The works in this show were printed on canvas and covered in resin.  Where did you learn to work with resin? Is it easy or hard to do? What is appealing to you about working with resin?   I saw a lot of work encased in resin in galleries out West and really wanted to try the process. Whenever I saw a resin-coated image in a gallery it pulled me in and I thought the process would make the images of abandonment in this show really shine. To learn how to do it, I spoke with a fellow photographer, I Googled and watched videos on YouTube on how to work with resin, and then I experimented.  I did two test images, one on paper and one on canvas and coated them with resin.  I liked the finished resin-coated image in canvas best, so I  decided to present my show on canvas.  It is not an easy process because of the toxicity of the resin. I wore a mask and worked by an open door with a fan pulling fumes out of the house. 

.Please join Sandy and the rest of Multiple Exposures Gallery for an opening reception on Sunday, May 19th from 2pm-4pm at MEG (Studio 312, Torpedo Factory Arts Center, Alexandria, VA).

Q&A: SQUARE MEALS by Eric Johnson

MEG member Eric Johnson shares some insights into his latest series, Square Meals, as well as some tips for producing outstanding black-and-white photographs. Square Meals is on view at Multiple Exposures Gallery through May 6, 2013.

Is it true that a photograph of a waffle shop led to your latest show, Square Meals? I had walked by the Waffle Shop on many occasions, and planned how I wanted to photograph it in my mind long before I actually took my camera there to make the exposure.  What I was hoping for was early morning twilight, with the lights inside the building balancing the light on the façade, and a sliver of dark sky at the top to balance the

(c) Eric Johnson

well-worn asphalt street.  But on the morning that I went to finally realize this vision, I found that the Waffle Shop was closed.  Permanently.  After over 50 years in that location, they had closed the week before to make way for a planned redevelopment of the block.

While I was still able to capture a different image of the now-closed Waffle Shop, the experience made me think how we sometimes assume that just because a place has been around for a long time, it will always be there in the future.   That is obviously not the case for buildings in a dynamic, urban environment and that realization led me to begin a project that documents similar restaurants and small markets in the various stages of their lifecycles.
 

(c) Eric Johnson

The images often evoke a feeling of nostalgia in individuals when they see them. Did you intend to make a statement about loss? The locations depicted in this body of work vary in their current uses – some have been in continuous daily use for years, some have been adapted to other purposes, and some have been demolished to make way for revitalized neighborhoods.  Despite this disparity, all have retained their unique character that sets them apart from the increasing homogenization of the contemporary landscape.  However, these images are not intended to be an indictment of the inevitable progression of the urban landscape, but rather an acknowledgment of the transitory nature of these everyday places.

The series is a beautiful example of the power of black-and-white photography.   Where did you learn your B&W skills? I started out in photography shooting and processing black and white film.  I did my own developing and darkroom work, and by doing so I developed my love of the medium and an appreciation for the challenges of creating strong images of a world rendered in shades of gray.  Now, when I’m out photographing I can look at a scene and visualize how I want it to look in black and white.  I look for compositions where the colors are not really an essential part of the image; instead I’m more focused on lines, form, light, and shadow to build the image.  

(c) Eric Johnson

What do you think differentiates a great B&W print from merely a good one?
Assuming a strong composition and interesting light, I think that one of the things that differentiates a great black and white print from an average print is that the tonal range and contrast must be appropriate to the subject.  It is particularly important to preserve detail at the extreme ends of the tonal range, particularly in the shadow areas, where it is easy to lose detail if the exposure is not optimized at capture.   I pay a lot of attention to the histograms on both the initial capture and while processing the image on the computer, so I can ensure that there is adequate detail in both the highlight and shadow areas.

Do you have any advice for someone interested in developing their digital black-and-white photography skills?  I think that someone who is new to black and white should first try to get a feel for what a great black and white image looks like.  Pick up a book with high quality reproductions of photographs by, for instance, George Tice, Brett Weston, or Ansel Adams.  Or look at a copy of Lenswork magazine, which publishes several portfolios of exquisite black and white photography each month.  Take note of how the photographers handle lighting, tone, and contrast, and also the types of subject matter that are amenable to rendering in black and white.
After you have an idea of what type of image you are aiming for in terms of tonal range and contrast, experiment with some of the many software applications of plug-ins that enable conversion of black and white images to color.  Entire books have been written on the topic of converting black and white digital images to color, but you don’t need to have that type of encyclopedic knowledge to begin.  Instead of trying every different conversion technique, I would recommend focusing on one method until you are proficient and feel comfortable with the results. 

Q&A With Soomin Ham

(c) Soomin Ham

Multiple Exposure Gallery (MEG) is featuring the work of its newest members -- Soomin Ham, Tim Hyde and Fred Zafran -- through March 24th. The show's images reflect the three photographers’ very different ways of seeing and interpreting the world around us.

In the show, Soomin offers a selection of intensely personal, yet still universal, images from three series: Unseen, Dreamscape, and Sound of Butterfly. She shares some thoughts on her work below:

Your work in this show has a very personal origin. Would you tell us about it?  I lost my mother three years ago and it was sudden and unpredicted. In my grief, I began collecting the scattered memories that I shared with her. It was painful to see them in the family footage, but I began to feel gratitude for her love, her passions, her dreams, and the many things that she shared with me. I wanted to bring them to life through my photographic series, Unseen, Dreamscape and Sound of Butterfly.

Please tell us more about the series and your creative process.  Over the years, I developed an idea of combining images using old photographs and movies made by my father in the 1970s. Unseen is created from old negatives from my childhood that were never printed.  It is a photographic collage made of 20 digital enlargements of over- or under-exposed first-frame negatives, cropped and printed.  Based on the relative time frame and visual appeal, the selected images are torn by hand, and randomly arranged to form a quilt-like pattern.
Dreamscape is a series of photographic landscapes created from family portraits that are combined with still images from a family movie.  The projected movie was photographed and layered with ephemeral images to transform the work into an abstract image.
Sound of Butterfly is a portrait of still lifes composed with soft, blurry, and close up images.  I see it as a poetic metaphor of my mother’s journey through life.  Butterflies were favorites of hers, and for me, they are a symbol of rebirth.

(c) Soomin Ham

 What influences inspire your work?  My background in classical music and my Eastern culture have inspired my work. The common elements and correlation between music and visual arts fascinate me and they have helped expand my artistic vision. Both reward simplicity and balance and their influence helps add meaning to my compositions.

(c) Soomin Ham

Your work in this show is intensely personal, yet universal at the same time. How do you account for this? I believe the work itself should be able to tell the story behind the image.  I hope the viewers can find and relate to similar moments in their own lives and experiences when they observe these works.