Photography As…Sculpture?

In last month’s column I talked about the art of photography as painting.  This month I’d like to explore it in relation to another art form: sculpture.  Michelangelo said, “Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”  I like thinking of photography in this way.  The amazing shot is there for the taking; it’s up to the skilled photographer to find and extract that shot from the visual jumble before him.  For this column I’ve decided to demonstrate this idea by going into the archives, selecting a favorite shot, and comparing it with other shots from the same series that didn’t make the cut.

My first set of examples provides several excellent opportunities to illustrate elements that make the difference between mere snapshot and great photograph.  The setting: my family was preparing to leave on a week long vacation, and my youngest sister was hugging the pets goodbye.  Sensing a photo opportunity, I grabbed my camera and quickly learned a lesson that has since served me well.  Until that point I was a rigid purist.  I had to take a picture exactly as I found it.  Pictures of people had to be perfectly candid, and pictures of nature couldn’t be altered in any way.  By the time I returned to the scene of the goodbyes the moment had passed, but I really wanted that shot.  So I asked her to hug the pets again, just as she had been doing a few moments earlier.  As the final result will show, it paid off, and I never forgot it.

My first attempt should have a lot going for it, but it falls average at best.  And average is boring.  There’s enough happening in the picture that should draw the viewer in, but it falls flat.  Never allow sentimentality over an event or the circumstances of a shot to overshadow your artistic judgment when choosing your best work to display.  If you hear yourself saying, “But it was such a great/cute/memorable moment…” chances are you know that no matter how amazing the moment was, the photograph just doesn’t measure up.  Listen to that inner voice.  If the shot isn’t working for you, I promise it’s not going to do anything for your viewers.

Continuing my quest for the sculpture locked within the scene, I zoomed in closer.  This is most often the key to getting great shots.  My general rule of thumb is, “less is more.”  In this example the second cat has left the frame, and the photo is already better for it.  I’ve also eliminated some distracting background elements, which help make this a stronger photograph than the first.  We begin to see a subject emerge that is more than just a girl with her cats.  Now we see the well meaning but uncomfortable love a child lavishes on her pet.  This picture is much better than the first, but it still falls comfortably within the category of average snapshot.  So we continue to delve and chisel, looking for that sculpture within the scene.

This was the final photograph that I took during this shoot, and it continues to bring me satisfaction years after taking it.  Following the “less is more” guideline, I’ve isolated the subject of a child’s affection to its barest element.  Compositionally we have the rule of thirds working on several levels, and that adds to the strength of the photograph.  All extraneous information is gone, and all that remains is the cat, and the love.  It was there all the time; like Michelangelo’s marble slab, I just had to extract it.

I really don’t have a theme when I start a sculpture. The rock guides me to the final sculpture. I think that is true for many creative sculpture artists. –Jimmy Carl Black

I chose the next set of photographs because the draw is universal for all nature photographers.  No matter how many dew-laden flowers we’ve seen and photographed, the urge is irresistible after every rain to take the camera outside and shoot those gorgeous dripping petals.  The problem often becomes how to capture that beauty in new and interesting ways.

Over the years, I’ve developed my “less is more” rule into a personal style.  Most of the time, I start shooting much closer to the subject than would many other photographers.  That is the case with this Parrot Tulip.  In this first example I’ve already cropped in closely, capturing only a portion of the flower.  It provides wonderful shapes, textures and colors, but still strikes me as merely ordinary.

In this second example, I’ve zoomed in a bit and lowered the camera angle, eliminating most of the background around the top and filling the frame with the petals.  I like this frame much more than the first; it seems to have better balance to it, and it’s beginning to attain an abstract quality.  At this point, it’s a judgment call.  Other photographers may be thrilled with a picture like this, but I expect more.  As beautiful as this shot is, it still presents too much information for me.  So I continued chiseling away.

I zoomed in even farther, isolating the lower petal against what is now abstract background.  I always try to capture the essence of the thing, which is usually far different from capturing the thing itself.  In this case the whole photograph becomes an abstract of something familiar yet different.  That’s when I know I’ve achieved my goal.  I hope these examples of my shooting and selection process provide some inspiration and guidance to those of you who may still be developing your eye and your style.  When you’re composing your shot, think of it not only as a painting—look for the sculpture locked in the scene before you, and extract it.  It’s always there; you just have to find it.