Musings on many edges - leadership development - Big Data strategy - social development (children's education) - marketing and customer first
- iPhone street photography January 7, 2014
- Those Damn Flags October 4, 2013
- The Painter, the Photographer and the Mobile Phone June 5, 2013
- Communication March 18, 2013
- Clouds February 6, 2013
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There is so little time
Left in Eternity
For our dearest dreams
To reach their climax
So little time
Written November 1968
Photography is a passion
Photography is a record
Photography is time
Like most photographers, digital happened to me years ago. Digital has exploded photography. Creativity is everywhere. Social media compounds the creative energy.
And whilst we all still compose and “take” pictures, in so many ways the computer is leading us. It takes skill, even bravery to override the camera’s automatic settings. The camera beeps and flashes if it is not focused right. Numbers appear, and symbols rotate.
Magic happens behind the view screen.
And it works.
A long time Glastonbury fan, I rely on the Nikon to capture impossible shots, zoomed way out, in lighting so bad. Serendipity plays a part, but the Nikon handles chance with its computerised dice.
The show of the ages
The Stones at Glasto. Everyone’s dream. Mick has been in special training, studying headliners, not wanting to copy U2’s disappointment. 50 years in the business and still at the top. And what a great gig it was!
But, much though I love Mr Eavis, those damn flags just get in the way. So imagine my surprise when a sequence of shots captured the three Micks, perfectly.
I was going through the images, comparing and contrasting, looking at the settings used. And then I remembered the very last film camera that I bought.
A Leica. M6. And a couple of lenses.
Time to dig them out of the family squirrel box.
A Noctilux, a lens that can see in the dark. Let’s try it. Where can I get 35mm film? Better yet, didn’t I read somewhere that the digital brother of the M6 can use every lens ever made by Leica? No messing about with new fangled mounts.
You still set the shutter speed by hand. You can’t actually see through the lens. The rangefinder glows bright, and your fingers twiddle and turn. You mess up, and there is no way the camera will rescue your image.
Is it sharp? Isn’t this taking too long? Wouldn’t the Nikon have taken 10 pictures by now?
Well, it works.
The rangefinder forces you to compose, to consider. The manual settings force you to re-learn how light really works.
And you rediscover time.
Time to think. Time to compose. Time to be sure the image is right. Once it’s set up, it also eliminates false precision. Set the exposure, and leave it. Don’t fiddle.
A trip to Ghent was a good test.
Usually, it’s a bag full of lenses, switching to match the possibilities. I am proud of the kit, and know how to use it. It takes time, of course, but it’s action, movement.
So it’s not a waste. It’s a positive to have such complexity. What happens if we drop all of that?
What happens if we keep it simple?
Let’s try just one lens, and not even a zoom. Let’s try 28mm.
And let’s push it as far as you can. Low light. Low shutter speed, hand held.
Technically, the Leica M9 has a smaller sensor than the Nikon. Lower megapixels. It has a more restricted ISO range. So grain shouldn’t be handled as well. But the eye is happy with the results, and that’s what counts.
It is true that the D800 takes absolutely stunning images. But never take a Leica to a rock festival and try to shoot from the other side of the field. Never take a Leica to a Formula One event. Yes, by all means capture the driver’s mood, their confidence, and their escorts.
But if you want the racing action, the Nikon wins every time.
Then remember that some of the world’s greatest photographers only ever used a rangefinder, a Leica. They did it on film, and they took their time.
I can never be Henri, and would never even dream that I could be. His “perfect moment” is etched in the world’s consciousness.
But when you spend a little more time, thinking about the scene, you calm down. Your brain is at work, not the computer. Images are more instinctively about the people, and less about the technology.
You take time to be sure the image is sharp, and that it is well composed.
And time slows down
It even deals with those damn flags.
Ok, maybe not exactly flags, but the wind blowing the streamers. The man, the piano, the cyclist and the streamers.
With one lens. One setting.
Those damn flags. Captured. Frozen.
A moment in time.
I, The Painter
Mix the colours
of golden apricot
and Spring cabbage
Lay the mixture
on the warmest paper
Create a melee
of contortionate light.
This is the process of painting.
Written July 1970
Painting was where I started all those years ago.
Yet photography has always been close to my heart. I remember getting my first serious camera (a Pentax KX) shortly after leaving University. I was later lucky enough to become a Nikon devotee, and still am.
In 1990′s digital started to appear. The Nikon D1 broke all the rules, and helped to make digital accesible, professional and mainstream.
Now of course it is almost all digital – no messy chemicals, no risks with the film, instant pictures which are infinitely modifiable.
Not just professionals, but all of us now have the ability to fix things later. We do not need to just rely on the moment of capture. Photoshop takes care of that.
“Clone out the weeds, the detritus”.
But it’s not just the transformation from film to digits. It’s the transformation in the device we use to capture the image. We have the iPhone to thank for an enormous explosion in photographic creativity. The latest Apple TV Ad notes that there are more pictures taken every day on an iPhone than on any other device. Is that true? I think I can believe it.
Is there a debate any more? You still hear purists saying:
“Mobile is killing serious photography”
“The world has gone LoFi” – not just the music but also the images.
I think that’s nonsense.
It’s still true that some understanding of the basics of photography are essential to creating good images.
Is the subject in focus? Handling the backlight? When to fill-in with flash? What is the rule of thirds? How do you manage depth of field?
It’s not just the camera settings, though. How many filters do you have on your phone?
They might just be simple auto fixes – but then we can grunge things, make them “noir”, pointillist, artistic.
So the devices have changed. And the way we process has changed.
But perhaps the biggest difference is how we now share images.
Do you post to Facebook? Google? Instagram? Flickr? 500px? EyEm? Oggl? Blipfoto?
Do you post in carefully constructed albums, or for instant sharing?
I remember the mantra of “Good subject, good light and good composition”.
Today, that seems to become questions such as “Share with who, and with which filter”?
“Create a melee of contortionate light” I wrote all those years ago. And that’s still true today. The light is constant – that is the artistic given.
But the melee has changed.
The melee is the sharing.
Despite this change, behind every good photograph, the purpose of the image is still the central question. What is the photographer trying to portray? What emotion is being elicited? What information is being imparted to the viewer?
Isn’t that still true, when you share to Facebook?
Why are you sharing? What are you sharing? What response do you expect?
This sharing leads to another massive shift – the “instant” critique of the picture. Whatever you upload, there is no going back. No fiddling in the darkroom. The image is there. Public. And it is voted upon.
Is it liked? Loved? Commented upon?
Perhaps as well that Anselm Adams wasn’t subject to such stress.
All you can ever do is delete the image, and admit defeat. It’s now. Instant, and it’s public.
A kind of social polaroid. Fixed. Frozen. Locked. And either admired or ignored.
So, did digital kill the craft of photography? No, of course not. It simply spawned dozens of new crafts, and made a few unnecessary.
And is mobile killing quality?
No, the wisdom of crowds, and their appreciation or dislike push us to quality.
There has always been snapshots. Fodder for the processing lab. Instagram is home to a lot of rubbish.
But it seems to me that photography has never been creatively more alive
Images of all kinds. All genre. All styles. All in copious quantities.
Quality is getting better.
And our discernment of a powerful image has never been better.
talking without words
an instant impression
the constant value
in the depths
of our hearts
It was a week of variety. There was a collection of toilet pods, pink for ladies, blue for men. Fun and funky, and who would have thought that images of toilets could ever look like an alien space ship, recently arrived in the Capital City at Sketch, a Mayfair restaurant..
The image pops out, telling us something new. Communication without words, just like the verse said all of those years ago. Photography is morphing into constant sharing, like a diary of everything we do. No words needed, just the image.
Before that, an intriguing new hotel called 21C in Cincinnati, a museum concept where business meets art. When the image is of an image, there is a double impact. There are so many things to ponder, and images to share. The artist created the sculpture, and proudly set them in place. The hotel created an ambiance, and a mood, to show them at their best. And the photographer took a view that was unique. Images on images on images. It’s a visual world after all.
On the way home, the plane’s technology worked just fine, and you never will need that life jacket. The transfer from Cincinnati to Boston was easy. Delta’s seats had space and comfort, and the in-flight Wi-Fi helped us all to stay connected. The crew tried hard and smiled throughout.
Images in flight.
It was pretty on the ground, and the air was clear allowing a few quick pictures. But inside the cabin, subtle things defeated a perfect trip. On a night flight, airlines sometimes offer their business customers a “quick meal”, to cut down eating time and to let them get more sleep. After all, the flight from Boston to London is only around 6 hours, and you loose 4 or 5 hours on the time zone shift overnight. It’s not called a “Red Eye” for nothing.
“Yes sir, I will bring you a quick soup and not the full meal, so then you can sleep”.
Nice promise, but pity it arrives at the same time as everyone’s meal. Just too hard to organise things I assume. But then, why say that it was possible? Words become promises, and promises that aren’t delivered lead to reactions and pain. So which will I remember most about that flight? The fleeting glimpse of the ground 35,000 feet below, which could have been on any flight, almost anywhere. Or the specific disappointment of insufficient sleep?
We’d all accepted a delayed flight, as we couldn’t do much about it, and the airline carefully explained what had happened – so we were all sympathetic. The words worked. Eventually the plane landed smoothly in London, and the pilot was pleased that we offered him our business. Rain welcomed us and an image beckoned of the airport around us.
Unfortunately the dock wasn’t ready, as though Heathrow had never had a plane arrive before. We all paid intent attention to those essential messages on our smartphones, and even took a picture or two. We all managed to avoid the outside world. Still, a little annoyance about the dock overshadowed things. It wasn’t the words or images. It was the lack of words. Of warning and sympathy. No words could reassure.
Whatever images inspire, if the simple words of communication disappoint, it all falls apart.
Sketch was a very cool restaurant, designed to be a visual treat. Art meets food. The staff was immaculately turned out, and everything was very professional.
Did they need a little too much “push” to change us to a better table? “I won’t comment on that, madam”. So we all moved on.
The food was excellent, served quickly and with a little panache. Looked and tasted good, too.
The sommelier asked
“Would you like a drink, madam? Certainly, madam”.
[Not that I approve of the way you are drinking my wine … but I will try not to let that show on my face].
Of course when he forgot to bring the drink the whole effect was spoilt. Words of apology become words of reaction.
The negative words overtook the positive, if only for a few moments.
Images are so diverse, so strong, and so creative. And there are an infinite number of them. What is this do you think?
It’s a light at Sketch – abstracted. To the artist, it doesn’t really matter, as the shape and colour is all. But to others, knowing what it is needs words. And if the words disappoint, so does the image.
Great intentions let down with small mistakes. Beautiful images lost because of simple words.
Images can’t cover for words or deeds.
“Quality in a service or product is not what you put into it. It is what the client or customer gets out of it.” Peter Drucker
Tall and straight with vestal eye.
Sunset embodied in life eternal,
Golden charm of folded petal.
Coloured scarlet with flaming torch.
Virgin purity of snowy white,
Or rainbow hues of any in nature.
Short and bushy in green confusion.
Often chosen with ecstatic movement,
Showing love, cherished enchantment,
But creature of death to people fallen.
This we ask of a solitary flower
Which we ourselves can never reach.
Written Summer 1967
It’s snowing out there. And, this being the UK, a national disaster is being declared. We read that 11 inches of snow fell on Moscow last night, and almost 200 people have died in that country because of extreme cold. “Snowpocalypse” the Moscow press are calling it.
Yet the M4 gets closed down with an inch of snow. People pretend they can’t get to work, and show themselves in snowball fights on Facebook. And then they wonder why their management get annoyed.
Some years back, I took a picture of a Rose, ignoring the odds and poking its tongue out at the heaviest frost of the year.
It became one of my most viewed images on flickr.
In 1967 I also wrote a poem about a rose. Looking back, it’s too complex and wordy – but it is a poem of its time. It’s how I felt, and it was of course heavily influenced by the sights, sounds and social upheaval of the “Summer of Love”.
It was the year that the Rolling Stones, the Beach Boys, the Who and many other bands tried to out-innovate the Beatles.
Which was an impossible task.
John, Paul, George and Ringo were demonstrating what a “high performance team” is. Extraordinary achievements followed with quickening momentum, and every member of the band contributed in a unique way – the smoke and the acid flowed like water untroubled by small pebbles. They were leaving the others behind.
“High Performance Team: A small group of people so committed to something larger than themselves that they will not be denied”
Katzenbach, J and Smith, D (1993), The Wisdom of Teams: Creating the high-performance organization.
“I am a Walrus”, sang the man in that high-performance team.
“Sitting in an english garden waiting for the sun.
If the sun don’t come, you get a tan
From standing in the english rain.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob goo goo g’joob”.
Was the Rose sitting in the garden, waiting for the sun? Or was the Rose in a team with the rain?
The Rose was both part of the whole and yet totally alone.
The picture doesn’t work without the background, and the Rose could not survive without the help of the sun, piercing the frost. Yet the Rose was standing tall, doing what it does best. It was not just surviving – it prospered.
And it made the garden and its world a happier place.
By being together alone.
“We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others”.
Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
On The Edge Part 1
Listen to the speed with which things stay the same,
listen to the silence.
Share the edge
Share the win
Share the loss
There is a shine to the depth
which can reveal its limits
whilst refusing to notice its blackness.
There is a word to be said which lightens the load
whilst it hastens the gathering changes.
The seer once noted the multiple futures
and offered the newspaper jacket.
The headlines he wrote
and the instant response
just meant he delayed the stories.
Tell me old man what is the correctness
of edge, and sorrow, and joy.
Tell me the difference so I can reply
with edge, and pain, and politeness.
Share the edge
Share the win
Share the loss
It’s the New Year
Time for resolutions, reflections and predictions.
Too many times I have tried making resolutions, and failed. mainly because the resolution was just unreasonable, or was too much of a change in habit or action.
If a resolution is going to stick, it seems to me that it needs to be both realistic and to be shared with others. Of course I have read all those motivational books – “do it for yourself”. But so often resolutions involve other people – be kinder, listen better, don’t get angry.
There’s a classic philosophical question which fits. “When branch fall in the forest. if there is no one there to hear them fall, do they make a noise?”
And, there is another story. Hui-neng, a well-respected Buddhist monk who later became known as the founder of the Zen school, one day happened to be passing by two monks.
“Two monks were arguing about the temple flag waving in the wind. One said, ‘The flag moves.’ The other said, ‘The wind moves.’ They argued back and forth but could not agree.
Hui-neng said ‘Gentlemen! It is not the wind that moves; it is not the flag that moves; it is your mind that moves.’
The two monks were struck with awe.”
Then I remembered a poem I wrote a while back, about being “On The Edge”. Yes, it was about being different, changing, edgy. But when I read it properly I realised it was also about things being the same.
Listen to the speed with which things stay the same,
listen to the silence.
And the poem talked about “multiple futures”, which seems to be appropriate for New Year choices.
On New Year’s Eve, it was raining heavily, and the pond had a brooding and black presence. The last day of the Old Year, so it seemed to fit the mood and the moment.
Then, New Year’s Day, it was bright, sunny and full of joy.
The same pond. The same plants. the same fish. Just different illumination. The plants and fish hadn’t changed, but their context had. The scene was completely different.
When we move through life we can’t control everything. Contexts change. Realisations occur. Things get illuminated. And shit happens.
So what we can do is think about multiple futures, and try to anticipate. The pond doesn’t change. But the way we look at it does.
But will you really “see” if you don’t share? First, of course, you must “see” for yourself, to reflect and wonder.
And, second, you should share with others, to describe, discuss – even argue – but then delight in the unfolding changes.
Happy New Year – and may your resolutions come true!
Share the edge
Share the win
Share the loss