Printing the Image - Normandy Edition
In the blog post about our recent trip I mentioned that my image-making juices started flowing the moment we arrived at Haldora’s/Thora’s/Magunus’ farmhouse. It was a rich environment for someone who loves to explore textures and forms. While this wasn’t a planned photography trip (oh, how I wished I’d brought a tripod - all of the images were made hand-held), I knew that I’d be making photographs off-and-on during our short stay at the farm.
When we returned and I downloaded images from the trip, I realized that we hadn’t used the printer in quite some while so it was time to select a few images, develop them and then print. Nothing like a good excuse to get something done that you want to do.
While I had a variety of images to select from, the image-selection decision wasn’t overwhelming. Face it, there’s only so many images you can make during a few stolen moments over a couple of days. Especially if you’re trying to be very intentional in your image-making. Two of the images immediately jumped out at me, largely because I knew at the time I made them that I was going to print them if they turned out even close to my intention. The third, the image immediately below, took me a bit to decide upon. Ultimately, despite the fact that the light was nothing special, I came to enjoy the graphic mix of delineated construction, natural wear and random objects that make up this image.
I’m not one to harp on and on about the role of story in photography. Face it, it’s only been rather recently that I think I’ve been able to actually think of images that way and to appreciate what that might hold for a viewer who was not intimately familiar with the subject of an image and who brings that history with them in viewing the image. I’ve never really conceptualized images as stories. But I have come to realize that, just as I appreciate an image that has a strong subject but then allows the eye to wander the image to make new visual and graphic discoveries, the same can be said about one’s thoughts about what an image evokes in terms of memories or experiences, along with emotions. What was that elevated door used for? Why that ball of twine? What was life like when the door was new and the wall freshly plastered? As much as I enjoy the graphic and emotional nature of images, I’m coming to appreciate how a photograph can trigger other thoughts and memories from a viewer that a photographer can’t image at the time of making an image. As St. Ansel said, “There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.”
Back to the print itself, I think it’s successful . . . in a sad sort of way. It speaks of a long history, a building whose time has long passed by, but may still have some life in it. I only hope that after Haldora’s and Thora’s efforts, it is given new life and becomes part of a family of structures again.
I knew the moment I saw the next image as an image that I would fall in love with it. More than any other image that day, I spent a lot of time composing, recomposing, adjusting and making different variants to get it just right. I never missed having my tripod more than I did while working this image. Hand holding a camera lacks the precision in framing that a good tripod provides. The image’s simplicity is beguiling and it is only by comparing this version to the dozen other framings made of this corner of a window shutter that one can fully appreciate the struggled balancing of white and blue masses in search of the “right” proportions of each to present the latch.
Though I have a confession to make - I altered the subject before making the image. When first seen, the latch itself was on the inside of the shutter, extending to the right of the rod instead of to the left. I rotated it to the left to see if it would make for a better photograph and yes, it did.
The print itself is everything I hoped for. The texture of the weathered wood, peeled paint, rusty metal and flaking wall and shiny bar come across in a very simple graphic, but visually stimulating print. It captures the rustic appeal of the place.
The last image was one that surprised me at the time of making. And once I decided to make the image - after raising the camera to my eye - I realized there was so much more there than I’d initially seen. That was confirmed once I looked at the image on the LCD afterwards. While it was the red table that initially caught my eye, the complexity of forms and shadows, as well as the mix of colors was what kept me framing and re-framing the image until I felt I’d gotten it right. That afternoon had been mostly cloudy, but during this brief period where the sun worked its way through the clouds, the wall came to life.
Sometimes simplicity is the way to approach an image. Sometimes, a more complex image is more rewarding. The hard part is determining, at the time of making the photograph, what is actually before you and making the most of it. In this instance, the print retains a mix of types of light, objects and shadow, and colors I was hoping to capture. Complex in its simplicity.
Well, that’s it for this printing session. Our trip to Normandy didn’t go to waste!