Trained for layout and with an eye for detail, Graphic Designers can be (and should be) very good Photographers. Composition, balance, colour and precision are components of both professions. Unfortunately, it doesn’t really work the other way. I’ve yet to see a Photographer work InDesign or Illustrator, pagenate a brochure or design an identity scheme. That said, much of branding is about visual metaphor and a Photographer would be a great attribute in a client creative workshop – articulate our Corporation as a picture…..!
Mistakes make fine images!
Some of the best photographic images are magical mistakes. A special moment coincides with the moment of exposure. In Canada, I watched a dog jumping off a pontoon to chase a stick, repeatedly thrown by its owner. I shot countless film based panoramic frames – waiting to catch the dog at the point at which it entered the water – big splash against still lake – you get the picture. Eventually, I assumed I caught the moment and packed the film for processing on my return to London. But, to my surprise, on seeing the film, the dog was suspended, a split second from hitting the water. It floated parallel to the water with legs aligned horizontally with the lake. A lovely scenic image but not entirely what I intended.
The image shown above is the end of a roll of film shot on a plastic Lomographic camera. The ‘novelty’ camera takes four images across a single frame – I bought it for the kids. Toward the end of the 35mm roll, the film jammed. The effect was an over exposed and slightly layered effect. I scanned the frame at high resolution and added colour panels in Photoshop. The result is an abstract, linear and highly graphic artwork – based on a mistake. The message is, embrace the unexpected and sometimes, the spontaneity and the sincerity of a mistake can be more attractive than the intended image.
Nothing wrong with Photoshop
Recently, at one of my galleries, I overheard a customer say to his wife in a disparaging tone, “No, let’s not, (buy), it’s probably been photoshop’ed”. Now, whilst I am not a fan of overworked or falsified images, I think Photoshop is a brilliant tool which replicates techniques that have been around for a century. In the darkroom, dodging and burning were (and are) routinely applied. As is cropping and contrast control and a host of other techniques. My point is, Photoshop, used appropriately, is a brilliant tool and in no way does it dilute the integrity of a good image. Get over the guilt and use it to transform everyday images! Gregg
Are all Photographers dull?
It has occurred to me that, whenever a ‘Photographer’ starts talking about technical aspects of photography – I glaze over and want to be somewhere else. I once endured a monologue from a ‘Photographer’ which comprised mostly a list of equipment. Occasionally, he would pause to ask barely decipherable questions, “Did you say you had the Mamiya RZ or RB?”, or, “What do you make of the ‘Blad H3?” – “Not sure” was my honest reply. It took me a while to conjour a question to shut him up’ “So what sort of pictures do you take”, I asked. Silence. You see, he could talk about equipment, processes, ISO’s and f-stop preferences. But when it comes down to it – who ever asks about ‘all that stuff’ when you look at a good image? It would be like reading a manuscript and asking ‘what PC did you write that on?’
I sell thousands of prints every month and have lots of cameras. Don’t ask me what they are. But I can show you what they can do. Gregg
We’re all Photographers now
There’s no such thing as a bad image and that makes every one of us a Photographer. Needless to say, some Photographers are better than others but I am adamant that if a person can see than he can create. A camera is the most convenient and instantaneous tool through which to realize our deep-rooted ability to see beauty, banality, emotion, event. It can be a tool of great precision and technical record but it can also be a recorder of blurry emotion in low resolution. Either way, it matters little and a great image is a great image. So what elevates an image to ‘artistic’ status?
For me, it’s about intent. If the intention is to capture an impression, portray an architectural feature, capture a moment, convey a style and, if the image is successful in fulfilling on that intent – then the image may become more than another photograph.
But intention is not the sole domain of the so called professional. And anyway, when does anyone qualify for the terms; ‘professional’, ‘artist’, or ‘fine-art photographer’?
What camera is used, how many lights are employed, the debate about film or digital, all become irrelevant. The image has been designed and is a conscious attempt to fulfill a prescribed objective and the result can be judged against an artistic criteria.
The camera is the most liberating artistic device. From the cheapest digital to a large format Linhoff, all are capable of producing great photographs, commercially viable prints worthy of the ‘fine-art’ tag. Of course, many traditional ‘Photographers’ will resist this suggestion. Theirs is the domain of kit bags and studios, investments and client relationships. But look into history and time and time again, the great photographers care little for the hardware. Henri Cartier Bresson used a Leica and gave up a career in painting when he “suddenly understood that a photograph could fix eternity in an instant.” He described that Leica with its standard 50mm lens as an extension of his eye. Warhol used a compact Minox camera and, I speculate that, tactile qualities aside, it wouldn’t have bothered him one bit had it been a Kodak, Pentax or Olympus. You see, for Bresson, it was all about capturing the moment and for Warhol it was about portraying people as colour and reducing complex personality into simple forms – so, for both photographers, there was intent and the results are extraordinary.
We’re all Photographers and we all have ideas. The hard thing is getting out there and taking the pictures – on a theme, with a purpose. To do it requires focus and determination. But it doesn’t require travel or expensive equipment. Martin Parr photographed everyday life in England, William Egglestone found beauty in everyday objects, such as trucks and tyres.
My message then is this; every great photographer or series of photographs starts with an idea. Don’t be put off by equipment or lack of it. Any camera will do the job. Don’t be intimidated by labels either – there’s no such thing as amateur and professional. And, most importantly pick a theme – any theme – if it’s important or interesting to you then it is worth capturing on film, file or phone!
Gregg Sedgwick is a Photographer. If you want to send him samples of your images, you can do so at contact@g-1.com
A gallery for the people
Having derided galleries in general, I must say that the Morrison Hotel, Soho, New York is a brilliant gallery and not in the least bit intimidating. It’s a photographic gallery comprising only about 400 square feet on Prince Street. From the outside, a single print is prominently displayed against a faded off-white net curtain – here, there is little sense of retail journey – just immense respect for the artwork on display. Tiny in proportions, Morrison specializes in rock, pop and celebrity photographs, mostly from the 60’s and 70’s by well known photographers. Terry O’Neill, Gered Mankowitz and the late Iain MacMillan typify the work here. Outtakes from the Abbey Road shoot, the Stones for Beggars Banquet and Faye Dunaway ‘After the Oscars’ shoot typify the offer.
Morrison is the antithesis of most galleries and it exudes integrity and passion for the work on offer. Aaron, the guy running the gallery when I visited, is incredibly informative, engaging and warm. He is genuinely interesting and interested. There was no sense of closeted archives, precious objet and aloof attitude. In the 30 minutes I spent there, several passers-by wandered in to peruse the work – all were welcomed with a smile. You got the sense that this was a public space (which it is) and there was no obligation to buy (which there isn’t).
This is how a gallery should be. It’s in a down-to-earth street (albeit one of the most fashionable streets in all of NYC) and its door is always metaphorically open to the public. It may be tiny, it may not be a designed environment but for the vast majority of the shopping public, it is an experience to enjoy and educate. For those who want to buy, and there are many, the prints are authentic, beautifully printed and highly investable.
G
Why do consumers hate galleries?
You know the feeling. The door is closed. Inside, the artworks are sparsely arranged in heavy frames. You steel yourself to enter, arranging your expression in a kind of ‘serious about art’ stare. The atmosphere inside is no more welcoming. Silence prevails. The ‘gallerist’ barely lifts her head to greet you. There is however a distinct sense that she has already checked out your shoes, your watch and the fabric of your clothes. She has made rapid conclusions about your net worth. She has seen into your bank account and already knows that your mortgage is a monthly burden that you can barely afford. In short, she has rumbled you even before a word has been uttered between you. She knows that your Omega is not Cartier and your Boss is not Prada and she knows you will never, ever afford the kind of artwork on display.
The items on the walls are attractive but visually challenging. There is a small stack of photocopied papers on a counter but you are unsure as to whether this relates to the art on the wall. For fear of making a mistake, you touch nothing and nobody offers any help. You fix your eyes on one of the works and transform your gaze into one analytical appraisal. Panic begins to seize you and you now need to be careful not to look too inquisitive – fearing this may actually engage the assistant into an uncomfortable conversation that neither of you wants. “Do you know Panangelotti’s work?” The words echo around the silent room. Her voice is parody pure 80’s Sloane. “Know it – I can’t even say it” is what you want to say. “Not really” is the best you can retort. The truce broken, the only objective from this moment on is retreat. Not only does she have a mental spreadsheet on your worldly assets, in her mind you are an artistic luddite.
It amazes me that galleries persist in adopting such an elitist attitude. When the works on display are invariably made by artists, artisans and master craftsmen and women – working in simple environments with simple tools and with unsophisticated materials – why then is it necessary to exclude and make exclusive such visually stimulating and non-discriminatory objects? Is art that special that it requires intimidation and snobbery to maintain an aura of mystique and monumental aloofness? High prices I can understand and appreciate. Galleries have overheads and artists deserve to be rewarded for brilliance. But why the attitude? It’s old-fashioned, it’s unpleasant and it’s offensive.
I have located my galleries in malls and high-footfall shopping areas. We leave the doors open and we play music. We accompany every item with information and prices. We provide catalogues and link our shops (and shops they are) to our web site. We sell postcards and notecards, often of the work on display. If customers don’t want to spend a $1000 or more on a wall piece, they may want to spend $1 on a well printed card memento.
If you go the Tate Modern, MoMa or The Guggenheim, the busiest areas are always the gallery shop. We want to admire the masters but we also like to shop. And is art so different to any other kind of shopping? In most ‘art outlets’ sadly it is so radically different to our day to day retailing that it is alien to an average consumer. That makes it difficult and embarrassing – which it really doesn’t need to be.
G


