Archived posting to the Leica Users Group, 2000/06/13
[Author Prev] [Author Next] [Thread Prev] [Thread Next] [Author Index] [Topic Index] [Home] [Search]We’ve heard some talk recently on the LUG about "art, soul, and content" (and implied lack thereof) and how "an awful lot of people who produce really mundane wasted film with literally tens of thousands of dollars worth of equipment." On Sunday I’m going to a dog show in Paris, and will be taking pictures with my Leica of my favourite breed. The results will go to the UK breed club magazine, in the hope that the editor and the readers will be interested in seeing the best contemporary specimens of this particular (French) breed. These folks aren’t going to want to see ‘art’ or ‘soul’, they’ll want to see a side view of the dog standing in the classic show pose so that they can get an impression of its build. 36 pictures of 36 dogs standing in near-identical poses - how’s that for mundane wasted film? And the poor quality of reproduction on the printed page will make concepts such as sharpness, bokeh and microcontrast totally irrelevant. The cheapest point and shoot would get the job done equally well, but I choose to use a Leica because it gives me pleasure to use a Leica. Much the same will go for all the pictures I take at a trade exhibition during the following week - straightforward views of the new hardware on show so that readers of a trade magazine can see the products. One again, no ‘art’ or ‘soul’ will be needed, just good general views which show the product, and close-ups of any interesting technical features. And if I take those dog or product pictures with my Noctilux, I doubt if they will have any "pictorial merit [which] would justify the enormous expense of such a lens". What justifies the cost of the Noctilux is getting the pictures on the page. A camera is an simply an instrument for recording an object or scene. I use the same photographic skills whether I’m trying to capture the patterns of light streaming through a mediaeval window or to document the handling procedures for a nuclear weapon. One subject might win me a prize at the local camera club, while the other would not. Yet 100 years from now a historian might place very different values of the same pictures (if they survive), while a film showing the winners of the June 2000 Paris dog show – however dull and mundane they might seem today – could be a valuable historical evidence of the history of the breed. If we are lucky, history may assign a value to our pictures. In practice however, they will probably end up as landfill. In the meantime, let’s just enjoy taking them. Regards, Doug Richardson