Archived posting to the Leica Users Group, 2000/02/20
[Author Prev] [Author Next] [Thread Prev] [Thread Next] [Author Index] [Topic Index] [Home] [Search]Jim B.: >>>Unlike many, I'm not afraid to voice my opinion!<<< Well, neither is John Rocker. I'm mystified that anybody could "hate" Eggleston, as most of his work is beautiful, sentimental, elegiac, honest, and perfectly straightforward. He's hardly a challenging artist. If you're so unafraid, please post us the URL of a photograph that meets all of your personal criteria for excellence, Jim. If you feel such animus for the "Tennessee Highway" picture, I for one would be curious as to what you find unambiguously admirable. On the Leica-Users Members Photos page there's a category called "M Stuff" by someone named "Bryant" (who I don't know and can't recall seeing on the LUG). Check out his photo called "Ice Cream Shop" at this URL: http://beta.content.communities.msn.com/isapi/fetch.dll?action=show_photo&ID_Community=Leicausers&ID_Topic=27&ID_Message=204 Granted, the subject matter borders on being sentimental, and/or trivial. But only borders. I think the picture rises above that. Let me describe a few of the ways I look at it--not that I would normally articulate this stuff; I'm just trying to make it plain in words why I think it's a great shot. First of all, it's casual and offhand. This is a quality I almost demand in photographs if they're to deserve my attention. I dislike over-controlled, tight-ass, rigid photographs. I like things that look relaxed to me, like they're the record of a glimpse--something that has a connection to what it's like to look around at the world, not something that looks like it's the result of an effort to control things and enforce an order on things that doesn't really exist. But I digress. I get a sense that it's a real place, not a generic place. Another standard litmus test that I automatically apply when I approach pictures. And another: it's not a "type" of shot. That is, I don't get the feeling I've seen it umpteen times before. It looks real, not fake or forced. I sometimes call this "authenticity," although that's just a tag. So there's this small dog. Look how well its smallness--and, perhaps, the vulnerability attendant on smallness in that situation--is set off. It's virtually surrounded by human presence, inside and outside: what looks like a very out-of-focus top of a head in the lower right; the wheel of a passing car (and we know what cars have the potential to do to little dogs); the leg of a pedestrian striding past; the bicycle entering or leaving the frame. In every case, the human presence is both emphatic, enigmatic, and slightly ominous--or at least it must seem so to a creature as small as the dog--and also completely anonymous, which enhances this feel. We don't see anybody--not in the car, not on the bike, not the pedestrians or the person inside. And it's all at least a little threatening, all that anonymous traffic. The somewhat darkish tonal palette (at least it is on my browser) reinforces that too. And the leash, of course, meaning the dog can't get away even if it might want to. Then look at the dog--isn't that a great dog? It looks like it was drawn by a kid with a crayon. A few feathery lines and dark blobs! You can tell by its stance how alive it is. It's as expressive as calligraphy. An odd thing about photography--if you tried to draw that dog that way, it would be difficult to invest it with the sense that it is animated. I can't see the dog's face at all, but, remarkably, I get a sense of what its expression is! I digress again. Now look at the picture formally. Despite its highly offhand, grabshot quality--lookit, <*click*>--it's actually very sophisticated in the way it's organized. Those strong verticals compartmentalizing the space (even echoed in the tiles to the right!), the layers from front to back (if it were "pan-sharp," or sharp from front to back, this layered sense--and the picture--would have been ruined). And all those wonderful half-circles impinging from the edges--the top-of-the-head (if that's what it is), the chair back, the bicycle tire with the half-round reflection of the crouching person superimposed over it, the car tires--all these circles looping in from the edges, echoing each other. Finally, the gesture of the feeding hand--this little, trapped dog, isolated amidst these rushing, anonymous strangers, those crowding circles, in the midst of those layers--and a hand--its owner's identity still anonymous, hidden from our view at least--reaching out with an offer of solace, a bit of food. A connection being made. Someone who's stopped rushing for a moment to notice. And of course a photographer noticing, too. Articulating all this probably sounds a bit forced, because of course analysis IS artificial--it's not done that way. You look, you see, you recognize, you respond; naturally the photographer didn't have time to puzzle all this out before taking the shot. But that doesn't mean he didn't "mean" it, either. He recognized it. --When he took the shot, and again afterwards, editing. It's obviously not significant subject matter. But a good photographer might find good photographs anywhere. There are other photographs by other photographers on the Leica-Users page I'd like to comment about, but later. Suffice to say that this is one photograph, at least, that offers me some of what I look for in photographs. Naturally I don't have to analyze it to enjoy it. I find it a pleasing, thoughtful, unpretentious, meaningful photograph. - --Mike