from the eMusings Archive...

Volume 13 • Number 1 • March 2020

Easter Eggs and Unicorns

by Huntington Witherill

“Wherever there is light, one can photograph" – Alfred Steiglitz

To the casual observer, the process of taking a picture undoubtedly begins with a determination in relation to what specific subject matter the photographer intends to capture. Whether it be a tree, a mountain, a vase of flowers, or a candid portrait of the neighbor’s cat, logic dictates that it will be difficult to take a picture of something (anything) until after you’ve determined what that something is to be. Subject matter is of course a significant consideration when it comes to photography. Yet, I wonder if paying undue attention to the physical objects we target with our cameras is necessarily the best approach to take when searching for photographs designed to transcend the hallmarks of a routine snapshot.

Given my somewhat limited observations in relation to public perceptions about what actually constitutes a fine-art photographer’s job description, I’ve come to the conclusion that, in all likelihood, the average layperson considers the practice of fine art photography to be not entirely unlike a perpetual Easter egg hunt. From a distance, we photographers appear to be casually roaming the planet in a quest to capture and collect a series of visual gems that, to the uninitiated, remain otherwise hidden from view. And, the Easter eggs, themselves – those seemingly elusive objects and things that comprise the subject matter we collectively strive to track down and reveal through our photographs – those objects appear to be the universally acknowledged primary focus of the underlying pursuit, itself.

Public perceptions notwithstanding, it is my intent, herein, to question whether or not photographic subject matter should, as a matter of course, be the primary focus of any dedicated photographer’s pursuit. I’d also like to directly challenge the notion that photography-based subject matter is even, necessarily, what it is most commonly perceived to be.

As a basis from which to explore the foregoing assertions, it might be a good idea to pause, for just a moment, in order to reflect upon the strict etymology of the word used to describe the practice of taking pictures. Photography: From photos, meaning “light”, and graphos, meaning “writing.” (Oxford reference). The word “Photography” literally translates to mean: "writing with light." And of course, given the basic nature of the pursuit, that widely accepted label seems entirely appropriate.

However, what seems far less appropriate (within this context) is the idea that the subject of a photograph – the physical objects being targeted through the mechanics of a camera – should necessarily be construed to constitute the actual subject of any photographic image. If you think about it, the physical objects being captured by your camera are, for all intents and purposes, subordinate to the true subject of any photograph – that being the light that is serving to illuminate (and thereby define and characterize) the objects being targeted through the device, itself. After all, the endeavor is identified as: “Photography” (writing with light) and not “Pragmagraphy” (writing with objects and/or things).

Now, I realize that the above distinction might seem an unnecessary exercise in verbal gymnastics (and, in some respects, it probably is). Yet, bear with me. In the end I think you’ll agree that the above distinction can be quite useful in helping to identify and resolve one of the most important (and oft overlooked) aspects of producing successful photographs.

By more consciously focusing on specifically what it is that you are actually capturing with your camera, the key to achieving successful photographs can become more directly accessible. Accordingly, the specific key to which I refer centers upon the realization (and acceptance) of the fact that the true subject of a photograph is not the physical object(s) being recorded by your camera. The true subject of any photograph will invariably be the light that is serving to visually define and reveal the unique and (more often than not) ephemeral nature of whatever objects are being portrayed within the photograph, itself.

Given the foregoing, the goal within this context will be to maintain strict focus on the idea that, as a photographer, the most important aspect of what you are doing is always going to be that of recording light. Keeping the aforementioned reality in sharp focus can help to encourage and channel you into choosing the objects you photograph based more predominately upon the quality of light that is serving to visually define those objects – rather than simply targeting objects based upon their more pragmatic physical characteristics. In short, it can be very helpful to remember that you’re not photographing a tree. You’re actually photographing the light that is illuminating the tree. Despite what may appear to be a distinction without a difference, this particular word play anomaly turns out to be one of the most important lessons that can be learned, and practiced, when it comes to photography.

Regardless of what it is that you photograph, the specific quality of light will always remain the primary attribute that can serve to characterize and reveal the physical, emotional, and spiritual nature of whatever objects appear within the resulting photographic image. Under most circumstances, the relative success of your photographs will not be judged by what has been depicted, but rather by how (and under what specific lighting circumstances) those objects have been recorded.

Admittedly, there are always exceptions to any rule. Should you be lucky enough to capture a picture of Elvis Presley riding a Unicorn, the relative quality of light under which that particular image was recorded will have little (if any) adverse effect on the overall success of your result. Without question, you’ll have captured an award-winning photograph destined to advance your career.

But let’s face it, within this context, we’re not dealing with objects and things that are quite so resolutely elusive. For our purposes it will nearly always be the underlying character and quality of captured light that can lead to a photograph’s potential success. Regardless of what it is that you choose to target with your camera, quality of light will always reign supreme.

At the same time, it’s also important to keep in mind that effective lighting is not the only factor to be considered. The well practiced and carefully negotiated implementation of your chosen tools and materials remains a crucial element that can help to translate and transform your unique vision and personality into a more cohesively persuasive and emotionally charged result. In short, the most compelling array of light will be of little use if you lack sufficient control and understanding of your tools and materials.

Nonetheless, when it comes to photographic images, differences in how objects are depicted (and how they will, ultimately, be perceived by the viewer) are predominately a result of how those objects are being defined by the specific quality of light that is present at the moment of exposure. This of course explains why two entirely different photographs depicting the very same objects, taken from the very same point of view – yet having been photographed in dissimilar lighting situations – will produce two photographs of such widely varying degrees of relative aesthetic, visual, and emotional content and character. It really is all about the light.

When I’m out in the field, wandering around with a camera, I’m normally not looking for any specific objects to photograph but rather, I’m continually looking for unusual and/or distinctive lighting situations whose visual nuance might offer the potential to photographically transform whatever objects may be present (at the time) into a more stylized and personally meaningful pictorial rendering. When I come across what appears to be an optimal lighting situation (meaning a circumstance in which the light appears to be somehow uncharacteristically outside of or beyond the norm) it is then (and only then) that I will begin to look for specific objects and juxtapositions with which to formulate a photographic composition. The distinction, here, is that the relative quality of light is always considered first. Everything else is considered thereafter.

By following the aforementioned simple strategy, the potential for your photographs to significantly improve stands to increase, dramatically. By concentrating on the quality of light, rather than simply chasing a laundry list of physical objects and locations to be captured (not unlike a trophy hunt) you stand a far greater chance of producing more consistently compelling photographs. And, as an added bonus, when you are specifically looking for light, rather than physical objects, you will also discover that great photographic opportunities can be unearthed in places where you might least expect to find them.

Admittedly, it may be a bit much to assume that your audience will ever properly identify the subject of your photograph as being the light under which that image was able to be actualized. Correct or not, deeply rooted perceptions are not so easily deterred. Nevertheless, it should not be too much to expect that, as photographers, we continue to keep in mind that we have been charged with recording light… not merely cataloging an array of physical objects and things.

Next time you’re out photographing… first, find the light. Then (and only then) choose your subject matter. And by all means, if you happen to run across Elvis, or a Unicorn… don’t hesitate to just point and shoot!


Huntington Witherill