Thoughts on art, documentary, and projects.

I've always taken the view that if I have nothing to say I'll say nothing. Hence the tumbleweed here.What little I have had to say I've been posting on Talk Photography of late. Just little snippets of thoughts. Now I've got some thoughts that need more space to try to work out for myself. I wrote a rambling rant for this blog some months back but deleted it before posting. The subject, however, is part of what follows.

I have noticed in certain quarters of photographic cyberspace, and no doubt could find it in the real world, an elitist attitude that places photographs that aspire to the condition of art above those which have been made for more workmanlike purposes such as documentary or illustration. Given the fact that a photograph can be all of those things depending on where it is seen and how it is presented the attitude is plainly nonsensical.

Although I have long known this his was really brought home to me in an unexpected way. I first new of Fay Godwin's photographs as standalone pictures. Presented as one-off's, as art. Yet it seems that many of the well known ones were taken to serve as illustrations in walking guidebooks. It was when I bought The Drovers' Roads of Wales that this hit home for me. I'd made the purchase of a battered old copy while wandering down a droving rabbit hole for my Lonk sheep project. While looking through one photograph leapt out at me. One I'd seen discussed for its artistic merits in a video (here). A photograph that is an illustration and art. It's also documentary because no matter how little, the scene will have changed since the photograph was taken.

Just because you are taking photographs for a 'mundane' purpose doesn't mean you can't approach the process with the intention of making photographs that work as pictures, that can stand alone and be considered for their aesthetic properties in an art appreciation kind of way. Henri Cartier-Bresson talked about his photographs having 'geometry'. You could call it 'composition', or 'structure' or 'form', or anything else you fancy. It's what sets photographs that are pictures apart from casual snaps. Thought has gone into their taking, even if that has been a deliberate effort to make it look like it hasn't!

All this has been in my mind since my Lonk sheep project became more serious. Like all my projects it started out as a random accumulation of photographs of a subject that interested me for one reason or another. Usually what happens is that a project gets to a stage when there are enough pictures to pull out a number of them and arrange them into a book or booklet, a set of postcards, or a set of prints in an album. Only rarely have I found myself taking pre-planned photographs for these projects. The Lonk project started out like that, but has morphed into a book project. A book with a considerable amount of writing involved.

The book has slowly gained a structure. This means that it requires photographs of specific subjects to fit various sections of the book. It also needs illustrative photographs to either make the longer text section more visually appealing, or to show what something in that text looks like. When I started playing around with page and spread designs I also started to see gaps in the pictures I already have. All these factors have made me more focused on what I need to photograph. Which in turn has fueled my enthusiasm for the project. Which means I am more motivated to get out and use my camera, and more importantly to make efforts to get access to the subjects I want to photograph.

When it comes to photography projects access is critical. Without it there will be no photographs. I've also discovered the benefits of the aforementioned rabbit hole diving. It was another book about old tracks that led me to find a location of historical interest with relevance to Lonk sheep, that turned out to be worth a visit on two counts. Not only was there an industrial archeology aspect to the place, there was a modern land use too. The icing on the cake was the presence of Lonks.

Old lime workings, modern wind turbines, Lonks. All in one shot! It might not be great art (although I hope there is an element of design to it), but it is documentary, and in a book with a caption it becomes illustration.

Part of the text for the book deals with the history of the breed, and Knowlmere Manor in Bowland has a place in that. There is a public footpath through the grounds so I went for a look to see if there was a photograph to be had. There was, but the first time I went the weather was dull. A second trip was planned when the weather was forecast to be better. The forecast was wrong. Third time lucky and I got the light the way I hoped to. No sheep this time.

Even the runs out that didn't get me 'the' shot weren't fruitless as opportunist pictures were found. They might not end up in the book, but they are relevant to the project.

One thing that developing a layout for the book has thrown up is the need for more vertical/portrait oriented pictures. So I now take more of those than I used to. Often shooting a subject  horizontally and vertically. Another design driven requirement for some pictures has been more space to add text or inset pictures. The book won't be a simple collection of photographs.

Having the demands of a book to meet has changed the way I'm looking for pictures for the project. This helps keep me thinking and out of the rut of repetition. It's far more demanding that a project that is just 'pictures of a particular subject'. Although that as a motivator is a good one.

Having a requirement for pictures that show locations has also forced me to look at landscapes more critically than I have in the past. I've become more inclined to wait for the light, or even as in the case of Knowlmere, to have more than one try for a shot. Even a simple picture can be improved by just the right light. My timing as far as time of day was pure luck for the light in this picture of a sheepfold, but I hung around as the clouds moved over and waited until the fold came out of cloud-shadow before taking then photograph.

Every so often I drop lucky. This happened to me recently when I stopped off for a look at a flock of Lonks whose owner I know just as he and his son arrived with a trailerful of them. I got to hang around and take a series of pictures of the sheep being sorted, footbathed, and driven up the road to the lambing shed. I also got an invitation back fro when lambing is underway. Access is all important. Some of these pictures will make the book.

Something else I have found worthwhile with book projects, but not much to do with photography, is to get proofs of the layout printed. A tenner or so for a hard copy of maybe a cover and a few pages really does help you see how a layout/design is working far better than doing it all on-screen. The print size can be deceptive on a computer screen, and the the 'gutter' (the place where pages meet) is more obvious on a hard copy than on the always-flat view on screen. This is especially so if making a perfect bound book or booklet. You need to leave a lot more room than on a digital spread.

These are only draft layouts, and the photos may well change. But it's all helping me formulate where the project is going. To the extent that I now have a sort of shooting script to work to. As always, however, there's room for opportunist pictures and even diversions in different directions. Until the final publication is printed everything remains fluid.

So that's what I'm up to and my current way of thinking about taking photographs. I still have aimless wanders with a camera, and they still turn up the occasional picture, but shooting to a loose plan is making sense for me these days. Don't hold your breath for the next installment!

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