|
Shotgun Shooting An Everest of a man Resolutions, sans yellow Singing the election night photo blues Wait! Don't push that trash button Digital voodoo The thin grey line around freedom of the press Is the film king dead? Long lived the king! A question and an answer Introduction October 07 November 07 December 07 January 08 February 08 March 08 April 08 May 08 June 08 July 08 August 08 September 08 
RSS 2.0    |
|
|
The invention of the Leica--which uses 35mm film--revolutionized photojournalism.
Arguably, it invented photojournalism. Its miniature size, combined with faster lenses and faster film speeds allowed photojournalists to shoot in places never before possible unless you used flash--hardy conducive to candid photography.
A single camera body could carry a 36-exposure roll. Those who only know about digital “film” cannot appreciate the sea change this represented.
To shoot the same number of pictures, a photographer using a 4x5 Speed Graphic would have to lug around 36 film holders. That was a lot of bulk and a lot of weight.
In my college days, when I was shooting a Nikon 35mm, one of the university photographers still shot football action with a 4x5.
He would look at the scoreboard, study the formation, walk so many yards down the field, pre-focus at a certain spot on the playing field and wait. Almost without fail, the key action would occur exactly where he had expected it to happen.
It didn’t take me long to decide to follow his lead. If Frank pointed there, I pointed there. He knew the game.
Contrast this with what major newspapers would do at football games just before they switched to digital. It was common practice to have a staffer with a motor drive at each quarter of the field. At the end of the game, they would carry off their film in bushel baskets. It was not uncommon for them to collectively shoot 250 rolls of film per game.
That’s 9,000 exposures.
"The reason,” one photographer said,” is because now the sports desk is choosing photographs by watching TV. The sports editor would see a great play in slow motion, call me on the cell phone and ask if I had the same shot. We have to shoot every play.”
Gone are the days when the photographer shot what he thought was the image that caught the essence of the game and delivered it to the sports desk.
A photographer at the Advocate recently went on an out-of-town assignment. This staffer was equipped with a digital camera that could shoot multiple frames per second. In three days, this photographer shot more than 1,000 images--the equivalent of 27 rolls of film.
The ability to preview an image when it is taken is one of the miracles of the digital age. But somehow, in the process, have we forgotten to do little pre-editing--through the viewfinder? All of us want to get “the” shot, but when I was actively shooting we called this kind of technique “shotgun” shooting. The idea was that if you shot enough frames, surely something will come out.
Personally, I think many a photographer would benefit by locking his camera on single frame.
A perfect example occurred at the
The first time the school guard walked into the street to stop traffic, he shot of a burst of six frames.
Each afternoon, our photographs for the day were judged by leading editors including Bill Garrett from National Geographic. When the guy’s first frame was projected for us to see, Garrett asked him what he thought his photographed conveyed.
“Well, this is my establishing shot, he explained. “It puts the school guard in his work environment, stopping traffic and protecting the school children.”
Click. Up came his next frame, virtually identical.
“And what does this one convey?” Garret asked.
Click. Third frame. Same question.
By frame number six, the guy got the message. He unbolted the motor drive from the camera and started thinking--and looking--before he clicked the shutter.
I’ve never forgotten that lesson; if ever I went back into teaching photography and photojournalism, I would title the course:
“I shutter to think.”
It is difficult to realize there was a time when the summit of Mount Everest was as remote as the surface of the moon. Then, in 1953, Sir Edmund Hillary stood where no man had stood before. Now-- in what has to be one of the strongest environmental ironies--so many people have followed in Hillary's footsteps that the trail to the summit is one of the more polluted areas on the planet. It is equally difficult to realize, in 2008, that Hillary's accomplishment once was the cause of a Cold War crisis. At the time that Everest still was unconquered, the northern slope of the mountain was claimed by what in those days was called "Red" China. While the rest of the world gave Hillary the same awe and respect it later would afford Neal Armstrong, Beijing (I think it was Peiping then) was livid. That's because, as the very top of the mountain, Hillary planted the Union Jack, representing the British Commonwealth. Red China took great exception. It considered this patriotic act as an invasion of its territory. It demanded a hearing before the United Nations. As reported then in the Saturday Evening Post, the Red Chinese representatives were their usual sarcastic and belligerent. Finally, Sir Hillary had had enough. He suggested a simple solution to the diplomatic crisis. "If you don't like the flag up there," he suggested to the Red Chinese, "Why don't you climb up there and take it down?" Among my 2008 resolutions: To shoot more. To blog more. To video more. While this blog is dedicated to the golden age of photojournalism, in the past few weeks this old dog of a blogger has been learning the new tricks of shooting video. It’s exciting and one heck of a challenge. I have a whole new appreciation for videographers and TV reporters. And editors. And producers. And how expensive the process is. I’ll be the first to admit that often through my journalism career I’ve silently made fun of television reporters. You know the old joke about the newspaper reporter who became a TV reporter: "Ah," says a colleague, "so you’re leaving journalism to go into show business?" Truth to tell, I almost went into television. In 1968, I was fresh out of active duty with the U.S. Navy--during which I had my life’s adventure in the jungles of Thailand--and wanted to produce TV documentaries. I mean, it seemed like the perfect melding of writing, announcing and photography. So, the local NBC affiliate in my home town hired me to handle the early morning shift (bad) to shoot l6mm film of car wrecks (badder ). But, I gave notice to the daily newspaper where I was a staff photographer. Before my first day of work the news director asked me to come by the station. "Before you start," he said, "we want you to go to Blackburn Brothers (a local department store, alas long gone) and buy yourself a lemon yellow blazer. It will cost you about $75" (many much more badder). I consider $75 a lot of money now; you can imagine how much it seemed in 1968. "Why do I need a blazer," I naively asked? "Because it’s our company uniform. If you’re going to be on camera, you have to be wearing a yellow blazer." "Well," I suggested, "If the station wants me to wear a yellow blazer, why doesn’t IT pay for it." "You want to work here or not?" he asked. I went back to the paper and asked for my job back. I’ve often wondered where I would be today had I forked out the money for that single-breasted pastel piece of public relations. It’s probably just as well; yellow has never been my color.
Election nights always are frantic, frenetic and tempestuous for journalism--particularly for morning papers. Quite often, results still are dribbling in from distant precincts when the presses start running. Photographers have it worse. Theirs is the duty to go to where the candidates are hosting their victory party. (Has ever a candidate in the history of politics ever hosted a defeat party?) And, photo deadlines always are ahead of print. Well, they used to be, when the photographer had to return to the paper, process his film and then print it. In today’s digital world, quite often the photographer emails the picture to the office. Back in the early 1970s at the Houston Chronicle, the night photo staff--of three--had to handle assignments for city and county elections. Each photographer got a list of names and addresses with instructions to take two headshots of each candidate. One was to show the politician looking happy. Another was to show him looking sad. The city desk figured that covered all the bases.
Professional digital cameras have a button with a trash can symbol beside it. It's used to delete unwanted pictures. The difference between the electronic trash can and the real version is that you can’t reach in and change your mind. Each time I hit the delete key, I think of Luis MiGuel Castineda Navas. He’s a Leica photographer who lives in Spain. I’ll let him explain: When my great uncle died I helped to dismantle the house. It is a rather strange feeling having to dig into the intimacy of someone else…having to choose what to keep and what to trash of a whole life….I rescued from the boxes to be discarded a few bits--such as his pre-war driving license, the savings book and a couple of negatives and prints. As Luis describes it: This one of an encierro (bulls run) was made between about 1940's or very early 50's. No notes, no nothing apart the seal of the lab and the label of Agfa papers in the back. He always enjoyed the bulls, la fiesta, a truly aficionado, and during the bulls season he used to attend as many as he can. Also did it with photography, I knew that whole boxes were trashed the day before. The people wear clothes and shoes typical of the same time of the other pictures and there is a black guy which wasn't common in Spain at that time, so it could be made in the north of Morocco or maybe close of any of the seaports near Gibraltar--all the places where my great uncle he was moving around at the time. The picture is exquisite. And it serves as a reminder to pause for a second before hitting that delete key. Some trash truly is treasure.
Monday in the Rosebud café. Victoria Public Information Officer O. C. Garza--who also is a Leica fan--and I are having lunch. Typically, we both brought our cameras. O. C. had his Epson R-D1, a digital rangefinder. An excellent review available at: http://www.luminous-landsca... On the table next to the Epson was my Leica M6. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wik.... A youngster who works at the café came up to the table and looked at both cameras. “Oh,” he said, pointing at O.C.’s Bessa, “That’s a digital camera. But this,” he said, touching the M6, “this is a REAL camera.” Now that’s a topic of a conversation! The whole digital revolution prompted me to remember a winter day in 1965 at the Globe News Publishing Company in my hometown, Amarillo. The eyes of everyone in the photography department were glued to the Associated Press wirephoto machine as the paper slowly, painfully, inched forward line by line to reveal another moonscape taken by Ranger VIII as it crashed on the moon. February 20. The next day, sitting in the same room, I remember predicting that we would live to see the day when a photographer shot a picture for the paper with a TV camera, transmitted the picture back to the company by radio where it would be captured at a TV screen. The picture editor would "process" the image with knobs to adjust brightness and contrast and then send it directly to engraving. “The day that happens,” said another photographer named Lonnie, “I will quit photography." Actually, he quit the next summer to sell, I seem to remember, refrigerators. I can only guess what he must think about today’s photographic world. I may still shoot film but, once it is processed, everything is digital. I scan the negative, correct the photo with Adobe Photoshop and then post the images to the internet. The first time my wife Reba showed me Photoshop, I realized that never again would I have to galvanize my lungs with acidic acid stop bath and fixer. There are some who still know the thrill of alchemy, watching a print develop in a tray. But it can’t hold a candle to the ability to turn to a computer and see a sunset on another world: http://photojournal.jpl.nas... Now, THAT’S magic!
Earlier this week, a freedom of the press issue occurred on the streets and sidewalks of Victoria. At issue was a second grade youngster who darted into the streets between two cars and got hit in the head by a rear view mirror attached to a day-care van. She sustained a bruise on the head; the incident also produced a headache here at the Advocate. Staff photographer Roni Gendler captured the whole story showing a woman applying an ice pack to the student's head: http://www.victoriaadvocate... But, at she was taking the picture, the girl's mother told Roni that she--the mother--would not allow the picture to be published. She later relented From a strict interpretation of the law, a news photographer has the right to shoot anything that happens on a public street. The accident occured on a public street; the photographer was on a public street. But the incident serves notice that it's not that simple anymore. I could stand on a public sidewalk and take an innocent photograph of a little girl--and almost immediately be suspected on being a pedophile. I enjoy trains, and I think the silhouette of a highball freight against the sunset on Highway 77 makes a great photo. But I'm afraid to take it for fear of the unpleasant conversation I might have with Homeland Security. The law may be on my side in both instances but is the pictrue worth the hassle? The Advocate decided that publishing the picture--which might prompt a parent to show their children that darting out into the street without looking can have painful, even deadly, consequences--overweighed the wishes of the little girl's mother whose concern probably stemmed from the natural instinct to protect her daughter. Photographer Stanley Foreman in Boston faced a similar situation in 1975. He won a Pulitzer for this image: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/... The older person died from the fall; her granddaughter survived. After it was published, Foreman says a man called the Boston paper and complained that his five-year-old daughter has asked him about death and that he couldn't talk to her about it and that the paper shouldn't run pictures like that. But that photograph, reprinted in newspapers around the world, prompted many a fire department and building owner to inspect their fire escapes--actions I doubt would have occurred had the editors not pubished the photograph. The question remains, then: How many lives were saved by Gendler's and Foreman's photographs? By a quick and probably inaccurate count in a recent catalog--about the size of a Victoria phone book--B&H Photo now offers 132 digital cameras. The digital revolution is not news, but its effect (please note I did not use the word "impact") is widespread. For instance, this recent article in the New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2007... Film drop-off processing plants appear to have a limited future. A member of the Leica Users Group wisely points out that in the rush to go digital, "everyone seems to overlook one inescapable advantage of film, NEGATIVES….Five years from now if someone asked you to reprint a specific digital image, do you suppose you could find it? I doubt it." Good point. Many a photographer has learned that while the ability to preview what you have just shot is a godsend, going digital also carries a heavy price of storage. It’s just too tempting to take too many pictures of the same subject and then to store them. This discussion is concurrent with Kodak’s introducing a new version of (gasp) T-Max 400 FILM! And, a press release that is heartening to those of us who still enjoy shooting film: http://www.kodak.com/eknec/... One tiny anecdote about switching from film to digital,--at least if you are a Leica rangefinder user: Since the introduction of the famous M series of Leica with a re-wind lever to advance the film, photographers have rested their thumb against that lever. It made the photographer stabilize the camera and allowed the film to be advanced quickly for the next shot. Well, with the introduction of the M8--the digital version--there was no reason for a film advance lever. Enough Leica shooters have complained that when they are shooting with the M8 they have no place to put their thumb, a man now offers for sale a spiffy attachment. One end slips into the hot shoe. The other end has a tab on which to rest your thumb. Thumbs up to that idea! Previously I mentioned Leicas. The famous rangefinder cameras have been much in the public eye. Not only has the company introduced a digital rangefinder [$5,000--line forms on the right] but The New Yorker recently published a feature article entitled "The Cult of the Leica." Having been admonished--by some--that my previous posting was not a blog but a column [way too long, not enough links] I simply will ask a question: What is one of the best-known images taken with a Leica? The answer: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/... -0- Thanks to all who have left comments. I will be glad to answer, once I figure out the blogging software. Meanwhile--a tip: take your camera every where you go. Good pictures rarely wait for you to recognize them, run back to the car, drive home, find the camera, and return. Usually they are long gone.
The Scene: Executive Surf Club, Corpus Christi, a few years ago. The photo director of the CORPUS CHRISTI CALLER TIMES and I are talking about what photographers always do in a social setting: Photography. PD: When did you start? BC: 1960. PD: Oh, you belong to that Golden Age of Photojournalism!
I never recall that conversation without feeling old. Well, old…er. But in looking back at that first job for a weekly newspaper in Amarillo, Texas, I am amazed at the changes--some gone, some bad. I made $25 a week then, and thought I was rich. And if measured by the satisfaction of learning, in retrospect I can admit I was. In the intervening years, I have gathered enough war stories to burgeon many a blog. Most of them are funny and I’m usually the object of the joke. For there isn’t a mistake possible to make in photography that I can’t claim. Example: My first assignment. "I’ll be with you in just a second," I tell the woman with the impatient Basenji dog. "just as soon as I figure out these instructions on how to load the camera." There’s nothing like instilling confidence in a subject and that is nothing like it. From a selfish standpoint, one purpose for this blog (a word that sounds like something spilled on the carpet but I’m afraid we’re stuck with it) is to share those stories. But also to hear yours. There are only two ways to learn photography: The first is to keep shooting. The second is to study what others are shooting. That’s the real idea here--talking about photography, laughing at our mistakes, looking at photographs. This venue isn’t exactly the Executive Surf Club. But it’s a sneaky (the ultimate superlative: good, better, best, sneaky) way to share photographs. And to have a conversation. I’ll start with my name. It rhymes with "rough." But, over the years, I’ve learned to answer to Clow, Cloof, Cloh, Clog and Clug. Once, over a U.S. Navy public address system, they called for "Cloogie." That was too far off the bell curve for me to react. Now I just tell people that I was very young when I was given that name or I would have done something about it. Back to photography. If you are interested you can peruse my website: www.gallery.leica-users.org/v/Bill1941 Some are individual frames; some are albums. I’m just as curious to see what you shoot. "But I’m not a photojournalist," some may say. I beg to differ. The whole reason anyone shoots a picture is to tell a story. This is me. I was here. This is important to me. "But, I don’t own any of those fancy cameras." Doesn’t matter. True, I use both with Leicas (film) and Nikons (digital). I pick up the single-lens reflexes when shooting for a client. The rangefinders are for what used to be called "pictures at the end of the roll"--frames taken not for others but for ourselves. However, it isn’t equipment that counts, or not much, anyway. It isn’t brands of camera or retinue of lenses or bags of accessories. All that is mechanics. It’s the human eye that sees the picture. And that’s a truth known long ago. I believe it was photographer Man Ray who reported finding some words etched in stone over a door in Europe: Of what use are lens and light For those who lack in mind and sight? That entranceway dates back to the Medieval--long before the invention of photography.
1
|
