The Subject of Photography Is Not the Subject of Photography

Play House

Armuchee Valley, Walker County, GA

Olympus OM-D E-M5, Panasonic 20mm f1.7

What I mean by that is that photography is not about photography. Photography, at least the photography I care about, is about life. It's about the subject of the photograph, not the act of photographing the subject. Most of us who think of ourselves as photographers are interested in the tools, techniques, and processes of photography, and that's good. But that in itself is not photography.

Involvement with equipment and with the photographic process are necessary stages in the development of most photographers, but they are not what photography is about. To learn the true meaning of photography, to come to a place where we can make photographs which are truly our own, we must learn to become involved with the subject.  

Our knowledge of equipment and the photographic process is not forgotten or set aside; these things take their proper place as means to an end. And that end is the presentation of the subject.

Dorothea Lange kept a quotation by the English essayist Francis Bacon on her darkroom door: "The contemplation of things as they are, without error or confusion, without substitution or imposture, is in itself a nobler thing than a whole harvest of invention."

Photography reaches its highest plane when the photographer has so mastered its tools and processes that he is able to use them to take himself out of the way and allow the subject to speak, to reveal itself through his skill. Paradoxically, it is only then that the photographer fully and truly expresses himself.

Another paradox is the fact that looking at a photograph of something is often the best way to see it.  "...the camera's innate honesty... provides the photographer with a means of looking deeply into the nature of things, and presenting his subjects in terms of their basic reality.  It enables him to reveal the essence of what lies before his lens with such clear insight that the beholder may find the recreated image more real and comprehensible than the actual object."  (Edward Weston,   "Seeing Photographically," The Complete Photographer, January, 1943.)

Our work as photographers is to so isolate and clarify that others may through us see the things that are around them.  Our equipment and our skill at using the processes of photography are enjoyable in themselves, but are ultimately pointless unless they become the channels through which we empower our subjects to reveal the essence of themselves. 

(Photograph copyright David B. Jenkins 2020)

Soli Gloria Deo

For the glory of God alone

Serendipity Yet Again!

Here are two more tips to help you encourage Lady Luck to bless your photography with serendipitous happenings.

Wait for Human Nature to Reveal Itself

Game Wardens

Luangua Valley Game Preserve, Zambia

All cars leaving the Luangua Valley Game Preserve in Zambia are searched for contraband such as elephant tusks and rhino horns. It was almost dark and the game wardens had lit a fire. They refused when I asked if I could take their pictures, so I asked instead if I could photograph the Cape Buffalo skull they had placed in front of the stop sign. Human nature being what it is, it was only a moment or two before they were jostling each other to get into the picture. I used flash and a slow shutter speed to catch the last of the twilight. And as soon as I made the photograph, the ranger in front fired his rifle, startling us all. (Olympus OM, 35mm Zuiko, Fujichrome 400, Vivitar 283 flash.)

Look for Different Ways to See the Familiar

The TransAmerica Pyramid

San Francisco

On assignment near San Francisco, I could steal only a few hours to go into the city itself. I arrived on Nob Hill so late in the afternoon that the base of the TransAmerica Pyramid was already in deep shadow, as was my position on a corner near the Mark Hopkins hotel. Framing the Pyramid in my viewfinder, I made a few exposures, then waited as traffic passed through the scene. Suddenly, a dark-colored car turned the corner, centered itself in the bottom of my frame, touched its brakes briefly, and was gone. But not before giving me what I wanted: a different view of a much-photographed landmark. (Olympus OM, 85mm Zuiko, Fujichrome 100.)

(Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins 2020)

Soli Gloria Deo

For the glory of God alone

Serendipity Revisited

Demented Spider

GA Hwy. 193, Walker County, Georgia

Serendipity, which Mr. Webster defines as "an apparent aptitude for making fortunate discoveries accidentally" plays in important role in my photography. You may call it luck if you like, but after years of doing this, I find that the harder I work, the luckier I get. Of course, I can't command those happy accidents to appear whenever I wish, but I have found there are certain things I can do that make it much more likely that Lady Luck will show herself.

Be Ready to Shoot

Kayaks at 15th Century Portuguese Fort

Ceauta, Spain

I'm presupposing that you will have a camera with you. Lady Luck may indeed tease you with wonderful things when you don't have a camera, and sometimes it's enough just to see it. But it isn't a photograph if you don't photograph it. Moreover, it isn't enough to have a camera with you; you must also be ready to use it. If your camera is in a bag or case, you'll miss many opportunities. Photographing the 15th century Portuguese fort at Ceauta, a Spanish city on the Morrocan coast of Africa for a missions organization, I was already in position with the right lens on my camera when several kayaks emerged suddenly and unexpectedly into the moat from under the bridge on which I was standing. I had already taken an incident exposure reading, so nothing remained to be done except recover from surprise and accept serendipity's gift.  (Olympus OM, 24mm Zuiko, Fujichrome 100.)

Serendipity Often Comes Disguised as Difficulty
 

Morning Comes to the Village

Mayalan, Northern Guatemala

Having just spent the coldest, most uncomfortable night of my life trying to sleep on two split-log pews pushed together to make a bed in the little church in the remote northern Guatemalan mountain village of Mayalan, there was no reason to lie abed when dawn came. The sun was just clearing the treetops and the ancient Indian village was coming to life. If I had been more comfortable I would have missed not one, but many great photos. (Olympus OM, 75-205 Vivitar zoom, Fujichrome 100.)

Look for the Incongruous

Boynton Beauty Salon

Boynton, Georgia

One of the things the camera does best is highlight the inconsistencies and incongruities with which life abounds. The beauty salon was photographed not far from my home in North Georgia in the mid-70s, using a Nikkormat, 50mm Nikkor, and Kodachrome.

The Best Iron Works in Town

Orange Walk Town, Belize

The tired chair which belied the name of "THE BEST IRON WORKS IN TOWN" was found in Orange Walk Town, Belize. (Olympus OM, 85mm lens, Fujichrome 100.)

If you would like to read more about my adventures with serendipity, go here, here, and here.

(Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins, 2020)

Soli Deo Glori

For the glory of God alone

Visual Delights of a Quiet Man

Peterbilt

by Bob Barnard

Bob Barnard and his wife Jane were lifelong friends from our college days. Sometime around 1985, Jane called me. "Bob's birthday is coming up," she said, "And he thinks he would like to have a camera. What should I get him?" I recommended a Canon AE-1.

Tall and lean, with a dry sense of humor, Bob Barnard loved life. He loved his wife, he loved his family, and he loved God. Everyone who knew him knew those things about him. Most, however, did not know that Bob was a dedicated photographer. 

Bob Barnard

June 8, 1935 -- January 23, 2004

He never took a class, nor even, as far as I know, read a photo magazine, so he was little influenced by what others consider "good" photographs. He just took pictures of things that interested him. He was an amateur photographer, pure and simple, in the best sense of the word, because amateur comes from the Latin word amo, meaning to love. Because he loved life, his photographs reflected and revealed that love. They are like the man himself: straightforward, with an apparent simplicity that masks hidden depths. They are photographs that deserve to be seen by a wider audience than the friends with whom he shared them.

Photography, however, was far from the central thing in his life. That place was reserved for his relationship with God.

As a young man, Bob came to understand that he was a sinner, and that God loved him so much that he sent his beloved only son to die to pay the penalty for Bob's sins. Bob also learned that this act of God on his behalf was an absolutely free gift, offered unconditionally to everyone who would receive it. He never got over his awe and gratitude that someone would love him that much. It transformed his life and made him into the man he was.

In 2003, Bob was diagnosed with glioblastoma. He underwent surgeries, radiation, and chemotherapy with grace and courage. Even as the tumor ate away his life, Bob spoke frequently of God's goodness. He continues to speak of that goodness even now, through his photographs, through the family he left, and through the testimony of his life. If he could speak to you in person today, he would urge you to receive the same gift of God's grace that changed his life: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life."

On January 23, 2004, Bob exchanged this life that he loved for a far better one. At Jane's request I put some of his photographs in a booklet to be given out at his memorial service. I am showing them in this post to recall to your remembrance the love of simply seeing, and showing others what you saw, that first led you into photography.

(Photographs copyright Estate of Charles Robert Barnard, 2020)

Soli Deo Gloria

For the glory of God alone.

Whatever happened to point and shoot cameras?

Louise in Italy with her Sony point-and-shoot camera.

Not everyone is interested in photography, but ‘most everyone wants pictures. George Eastman was perhaps the first to understand this, and built an empire around it with his first box camera pre-loaded with film for 100 pictures and sold with the slogan “You press the button, we do the rest.” 

Previously, photographs had been made on sensitized glass plates or single sheets of film in holders. The process was complex and required serious interest in photography to grapple with it. Film in rolls was invented by Peter Houston, a Wisconsin farmer, in 1881. Eastman bought Houston's patent for $5000, and in 1888 produced his first camera. The rest, as they say, is history. 

When all the film had been exposed the user simply mailed the whole thing to Kodak, who processed and printed the pictures, reloaded the camera, and sent it all back to the owner. Nothing could be simpler. 

Eastman Kodak went on, over the years, to produce cameras of varying complexity, and of course, film for them. Lots and lots of film. In fact, they didn't particularly care who built the cameras as long as they could make the film. But the heart of their business was always the casual picture-taker who was happy with a simple box with few or no adjustments. The focus was fixed, as was the shutter speed, and exposure variations were mostly compensated for by the latitude of the film. 

Vernazza. Photo by Louise with her Sony.

As time went on and cameras became both more capable and more complex, various kinds of automation were devised, such as auto exposure and autofocus, so that the only technical challenge the user continued to face was loading film. And even that was simplified with the 126 and 110 format cameras that featured film pre-loaded into cartridges that could be simply dropped into the camera. 

As ways were devised to make it simpler to load 35mm film into a camera, the 35mm point-and-shoot camera, often, but not always, featuring mid-range zoom lenses, came to dominate the market among those who simply wanted reasonably good pictures with a minimum of complexity. One hour photo labs grew behind every bush to service this emerging market, and making and selling point-and-shoot cameras became the bread and butter of camera manufacturers. 

(I still have a great little camera from that era -- a Canon AF35ML with a fine 40mm f1.9 lens, autofocus, and the most accurate exposure metering of any camera I ever owned until my Fuji X-H1. I could shoot slide film in it with no bracketing and no worries.) 

Harley and Schnoodles

with a Canon AF35ML and slide film

My beloved late sister epitomized that army of point-and-shooters, as she documented every detail of the life of her family and her large coterie of relatives and friends. Her house was awash with 4x6 prints (doubles, of course), as she contributed heavily to Kodak’s bottom line. In fact her decline in picture-making activity due to age and infirmity paralleled Kodak’s decline so closely I can’t help wondering sometimes if there could have been a connection. . . 

As we morphed into the digital age, camera manufacturers morphed right along with the times. Film point-and-shoot cameras morphed into digital point-and-shoots. I think the first digital camera in our family was a little 3-megapixel Fuji I got for Louise in 2003, and by the time we went to Italy in 2005 she had a five megapixel Sony with a mid-range zoom lens that took very good pictures. 

Meanwhile, in 2002, the first cellular phones with built-in cameras became available to the public. It took a while for them to catch on, but by 2010, sales of digital cameras had begun to drop, and in the ensuing ten years have dropped by 87%. And much of that decline has been in sales of digital point-and-shoot cameras, which as a category, is nearly dead.

Monteroso. Photo by Louise with her Sony.

 Why? Three things.  

1. Digital point-and-shoots are not easy to use. My wife got a very nice little Olympus point-and-shoot a few years ago, Does she use it? No, but she takes a lot of pictures with her cell phone. The Olympus menus are almost as complex as those on my professional cameras. Even I have difficulty with them, and I have mostly mastered the menus of an Olympus OM-D E-M5. 

2. Cell phones make it quick and easy to share your photos. Even faster than getting double 4x6's at the one-hour lab. Cheaper, too.

3. Cell phone cameras do everything for you. Reasonably good exposure, reasonably good focus, both good enough for most people. and "you just push the button and (the camera) does the rest." George Eastman's idea lives on -- in modern garb.

(Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins and Louise D. Jenkins, 2020)

Soli Deo Gloria

For the glory of God alone.

Footloose in Italy: A Visit to Venice

Blue boat, Venice

It was with a twinge of regret that we boarded a train, actually a series of trains, that took us northeast from the Cinque Terra to the other side of Italy and the unique city of Venice, which consists of several islands wrapped around the Grand Canal, two and a half miles from the mainland and intersected by nearly 180 smaller canals. 

A vaporetto

A vaporetto, one of the city's water buses, took us to a landing near where we planned to stay and by some miracle we found our hotel, down one of Venice's narrow alleys.

Hotel (not the Ritz)

We had a reasonably nice room on the third floor of our hotel, which was small, European in style, and not expensive by European standards. But the bed! The bed was the hardest bed we have ever slept on. Think sleeping on a pool table. Nonetheless, we did enough walking in Venice to ensure that we slept well both nights we were there. Fortunately, the hotel was near St. Mark's Square, otherwise we might never have found it again after stepping out for supper. 

St. Mark's Square

 Venice surely must have one of the most confusing and frustrating layouts of any city on earth. Yet, its charm covers a multitude of sins. Getting lost isn't quite so bad when every turn, even a wrong turn, reveals scenes of beauty.

One of the many lovely scenes to be

found along Venice's nearly 180 small canals.

While I'm sounding off, let me mention the biggest disappointment of the trip. Believe it or not, it was the food. We love Italian food, and were looking forward to culinary adventures in the land where it all began. But Italian food in Italy didn't taste like the Italian food we had eaten in America, and we quickly realized that we much preferred the Americanized version. So much for that illusion.

Art students in St. Mark's Square

Louise and friends in St. Mark's Square

"No, move it just a bit to the left."

It rained on and off the whole time we were in Venice, but as usual, we made the best of it. Fortunately, the rain let up long enough for us to take a very enjoyable gondola ride. We would love to go back someday and spend a few days in Venice in the sunshine.

Getting the gondolas ready for the day's business.

Louise and David in Venice.

(Photo by our gondolier.)

  

(Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins and Louise D. Jenkins, 2020)

Soli Deo Gloria

For the glory of God alone.