Outside The Box: Telling Stories

How many times has a brilliant rainbow or a breathtaking sunset motivated you to grab your camera and shoot away until nightfall, only to be disappointed when you got a chance to sit down and look at the results?  Somehow all that eye popping form and color just faded on your computer screen into a dull and uninspiring blah.  Or perhaps it turned out pretty enough, but it was just that: a pretty photo like thousands of others you’ve seen before.  Either way, the result before you was only a shadow of the grandeur you had the privilege to witness and had hoped to triumphantly share with others.

While photography presents its own unique challenges to practitioners across all disciplines, I think that some of these challenges are magnified when we take a camera outside and start pointing it at nature stuff.  Nature is art itself.  In real life, it’s wonderful enough to savor and enjoy in its own right.  The best we can ever do is make a representation of that art.  Whether photographing a flower, an insect, or a sunset, no matter how well composed and well exposed, we are limited to making a 2D impression of a glorious work of art that existed, for a moment, in time and space.

Compounding this challenge is the deceptive simplicity of photography.  After all, no matter how fancy your equipment, the shot is made with the simple press of a button.  How difficult can it be?  Run out into the yard, find something pretty, point your camera and…voila!  Instant art!  If you have an ounce of the artistic in you, you will be quickly humbled by the results of this approach.  You will find that even if your photos are well composed and well exposed, often they will still lack the beauty and the wonder of the original scene.  So what’s the problem?  Why do some photographers take a nice but forgettable image of a beautiful sunset, while others record the same scene and produce an image that people want to look at again and again?

If we take the time to examine our favorite images, we will often find that they are not mere representations of something pretty or interesting that happened once.  They’re powerful images that move us on some deeper level.  If we look and listen closely, we’ll notice that we’re moved, not by the things in the photographs, but by the stories the photographs tell.  And we discover a secret.  If we learn to take pictures that tell stories, we are then using elements from one artistic realm (i.e. nature) to produce a work of art that is greater than the sum of its parts.

While a photographer has many tools in his bag that can help him achieve this result, I’d like to focus on one of the most powerful.  This tool is so powerful that if it is done well, it can single handedly overcome other compositional issues or mistakes within an image, turning something otherwise forgettable into a thing of beauty.  That tool is juxtaposition.  Creatively combining similar or disparate items within the frame automatically gets the mind working, subconsciously asking questions about the scene depicted: “How did that get there?” or “What’s going to happen?” or any number of similar queries to delight the imagination.

When I first viewed this image, I was mesmerized.  Even now, after having looked at it many times, I still gaze in awe.  This photograph has so many things right about it.  First, with Niagara Falls receiving upwards of 12 million tourists a year, it is one of the most photographed icons in the world.  It is very difficult to capture a unique image of the Falls.  With her close cropping and perfect composition, Phyllis has captured the power and ferocity of the falls in a manner rarely seen.

But what is it about this image that takes it over the edge (no pun intended)?  It’s that tiny speck of humanity standing precariously on the precipice.  In a moment where serendipity met preparedness, Phyllis recorded an epic moment of juxtaposition.  Try to imagine this shot without the person.  It would still be a strong, well composed image.  But it wouldn’t tell the same story.  What might the story be?  Here is where our imagination can run wild.  Does it tell of the raw power of nature versus the frailty of humanity?  Or does it tell of man’s sheer stupidity, or of his insatiable need to be noticed?  What does it say to you?

Here is a photograph with a completely different feel, and a completely different story to tell.  Again, Gary has taken a perfect image, utilizing the tools of perfect composition and selective focus to direct our attention to the most important element of the picture: the book.  But is the book the subject of the photograph?  Gary’s excellent eye and brilliant juxtaposition within the frame confronts the viewer with a picture that tells a sad story of neglect.  Or is it wistfulness for happier times?  How did the book get there in the first place?  Where is its’ owner now?  Did he ever miss it?  Again, these are a few questions to get you started.

As you look at more and more photographs, you’ll begin to see that most great pictures have an element of juxtaposition in them somewhere.  Some are just more obvious than others.  If you keep your eyes open, you’ll see juxtapositions happening naturally all around you.  It’s simply up to you as the artist to frame them in such a way as to tell that story that makes your viewers return time and again to see told.