So, yesterday I discussed about the films that I watched to keep
myself entertained. I have also made passing references to my
'non-physical' projects. At any one time I have many projects on the
go, mostly to do with house, home or garden, but some other
administrative tasks - sorting and tidying various things, writing
things, and other such occupations to prevent me getting into
trouble.One
of the new projects which I embarked upon over my time off was a bit
of a sort out of my digital photo collections; and printing out quite
a number of them. in doing this I found that I have take around
22,000 photos since getting my first digital camera around 10 years
ago.
That's correct.
TWENTY TWO THOUSAND.
Do you remember when you used to go on holiday and get given a single roll of film? You had 24 photos (probably actually 27 because you used to be able to squeeze some extras out at the end) to last you for two weeks. And to make matters worse you had actually no idea if the photos had come out properly until you had waited the agonising five days that it took to get developed (my dad wasn't going to pay the couple of quid extra to get them done within a day let alone an hour). And what then? Well, if there was a smudge on the lens, or a finger in front, you didn't have a picture (or you got one with an advisory label saying 'there appears to be something between the lens and the picture - try moving your finger in future') and would either just have slowly dimming memories of the holiday, else having to return to the same spot at some other time to take that magical moment. Again.
When digital cameras were invented there were shrieks from artists and photographers. This was putting into the hands of ordinary people valuable technology. It was making their livelihood redundant and they were getting protectionist about it. Anybody but anybody would be able to take photos. Hundreds of photos would exist - thousands - maybe even, say, twenty two thousand. With so many photos proliferating and circulating, how would they ever stand out? Worse still, the medium was disposable. People would be taking all of these photos, and yet never printing them out, never sharing them, never doing anything with them to enjoy them.
Indeed this was the argument used by Kodak when, in 1975, their employee Steven Sasson designed the first digital camera. They were worried about film and paper and that no-one would want their products. Ironically they propelled the Brownie box camera into the hands of the public with the counter-intuition to their digital decision: the ability to get the product, the camera, into the hands of as many people as possible was absolutely necessary. The hardware v. consumables argument has been one that has abounded since patents first were issued, essentially protecting the hardware inventions; whilst limiting the ability of the developers to extort their customers for replacement consumables that 'must match' or 'must fit' whereas obviously the economics for developer are to recoup their research and development either through higher initial prices, or discounting (perhaps even subsidising) the hardware and recouping through consumables.
But the professional photographers were being elitist, stuffy and - for creatives - surprisingly uninventive. Quite, these thousands and thousands of photographs may be taken by the untrained amateur; but there would still be a world for the professional photographer. They just needed to find their niche - tell people what it was about their photos that was unique.
The main worries were, essentially, that they would struggle to find a market to sell - people would simply take their own photos and not need a professional portrait; or at the other extreme that the market would actually become flooded with amateurs, churning out all sorts of photographs and artworks, swamping out anything of true class, or devaluing everything to stock photo images that the professional will struggle to get paid a decent amount for because an amateur has already licensed a similar image to Ikea for a tenner to adorn the walls of every living room around.
So, has it devalued the medium? I say not. I say, actually, quite the opposite.
Rather than devalue the photos I have, any of the seventeen thousand, it has made photography more of my life. And that isn't to say that the number of rubbish photos hasn't increased: it has, dramatically. But so has the number of better photos. What was once the preserve of the professionals, where they could take a couple of dozen photos and select the correct one for the publication, so I am now the same. And I am the same in very many ways... I take the time to take the photo, I check it on the screen, analyse what I can do to improve it, shuffle myself, adjust the angle etc to get the proper framing, depth, exposure, aperture.
Only that's another thing: the camera does all that for you, doesn't it? It has autofocus, auto-flash, auto-aperture, auto-white-balance etc.? Well, I say that people that actually give a damn about the photos, those that might actually have diminished or demolished the livelihood of the professional actually understand these all the more now, actually appreciate the time, effort and expertise of the photographer, and can tell the subtle differences between a simple, quick snap, and one which has taken the time and effort to properly compose, They appreciate all the more the sublimities behind a professionally produced image. Those that don't care, don't have the ability to distinguish these things, but then they wouldn't have instructed a professional in any event.
If anything the mass-proliferation of digital photography has only accentuated photography amongst the public, enhanced it as an art-form. Yes it may have introduced new appreciators, but moreover it has opened opportunities into what was previously an elitist and exclusionary arena for true artists. We may very well be taking more photos ourselves, but we are enjoying even more. I don't think the dispensibility argument holds too true, although I speak from the point of view of someone with an anally organised photo collection where if someone were to request to see a photo or series of photos it could be done instantaneously.
We may not print them out in the old analogue format, but we share them widely over our various websites. See the group when they go out all huddle around the digital screen, cackling away at the comedy pose Brian has taken, see the flood on a Monday morning when you log onto your social site and see the pictures from the party the night before. Whereas once these photographs were a moment, a misty-eyed reminiscence to take place a week after the holiday or on a rainy day with nothing better to do; now they are immediately there. You can see the photos that your friends have taken without having to go around and rummage through their bedroom drawers.
And human nature has bred within us a photographic competitiveness. Everyone is competing against everyone else to show that they have the funniest album, the biggest collection, the best technical eye or simply had the most picturesque holiday. And it is this competitiveness as much as anything that is improving us all as photographers, more than attempting to emulate some stuffy, stuck-up professional who simply 'knows' that they are better than everyone else.
What it does do, is sort the wheat from the chaff - in many ways. Yes, I may have twenty two thousand photos; but whereas before I kept every photo that I took because each one of those prints probably cost around 25p when you consider the cost of the film and printing; and because each one of those photos represents an opportunity supplanted: that because I only had 24 frames, I had to let some snapshots go; these days I am far more selective. Whilst I may have seventeen thousand photos, I can only guess at the number I have deleted: multiples not quite right, blurry shots, fingers in the frame and photos of the inside of my pockets. So the proportion of 'good' photos in those that I have retained has increased.
But it also sorts the wheat from the chaff professionally. Whereas some people previously muddled by, creating stock photos for agencies; they are now having to demark themselves from the competition: the public. And so they have to do things that 'normal' people can't do. Like pay actors or models, buy studios and lighting, or create their own proprietary technique or 'look'.
As with all things, the technology has democratized what was essentially an elitist subject; but moreover it has opened it up to that discussion that I have briefly touched upon before: is it art?
That's correct.
TWENTY TWO THOUSAND.
Do you remember when you used to go on holiday and get given a single roll of film? You had 24 photos (probably actually 27 because you used to be able to squeeze some extras out at the end) to last you for two weeks. And to make matters worse you had actually no idea if the photos had come out properly until you had waited the agonising five days that it took to get developed (my dad wasn't going to pay the couple of quid extra to get them done within a day let alone an hour). And what then? Well, if there was a smudge on the lens, or a finger in front, you didn't have a picture (or you got one with an advisory label saying 'there appears to be something between the lens and the picture - try moving your finger in future') and would either just have slowly dimming memories of the holiday, else having to return to the same spot at some other time to take that magical moment. Again.
When digital cameras were invented there were shrieks from artists and photographers. This was putting into the hands of ordinary people valuable technology. It was making their livelihood redundant and they were getting protectionist about it. Anybody but anybody would be able to take photos. Hundreds of photos would exist - thousands - maybe even, say, twenty two thousand. With so many photos proliferating and circulating, how would they ever stand out? Worse still, the medium was disposable. People would be taking all of these photos, and yet never printing them out, never sharing them, never doing anything with them to enjoy them.
Indeed this was the argument used by Kodak when, in 1975, their employee Steven Sasson designed the first digital camera. They were worried about film and paper and that no-one would want their products. Ironically they propelled the Brownie box camera into the hands of the public with the counter-intuition to their digital decision: the ability to get the product, the camera, into the hands of as many people as possible was absolutely necessary. The hardware v. consumables argument has been one that has abounded since patents first were issued, essentially protecting the hardware inventions; whilst limiting the ability of the developers to extort their customers for replacement consumables that 'must match' or 'must fit' whereas obviously the economics for developer are to recoup their research and development either through higher initial prices, or discounting (perhaps even subsidising) the hardware and recouping through consumables.
But the professional photographers were being elitist, stuffy and - for creatives - surprisingly uninventive. Quite, these thousands and thousands of photographs may be taken by the untrained amateur; but there would still be a world for the professional photographer. They just needed to find their niche - tell people what it was about their photos that was unique.
The main worries were, essentially, that they would struggle to find a market to sell - people would simply take their own photos and not need a professional portrait; or at the other extreme that the market would actually become flooded with amateurs, churning out all sorts of photographs and artworks, swamping out anything of true class, or devaluing everything to stock photo images that the professional will struggle to get paid a decent amount for because an amateur has already licensed a similar image to Ikea for a tenner to adorn the walls of every living room around.
So, has it devalued the medium? I say not. I say, actually, quite the opposite.
Rather than devalue the photos I have, any of the seventeen thousand, it has made photography more of my life. And that isn't to say that the number of rubbish photos hasn't increased: it has, dramatically. But so has the number of better photos. What was once the preserve of the professionals, where they could take a couple of dozen photos and select the correct one for the publication, so I am now the same. And I am the same in very many ways... I take the time to take the photo, I check it on the screen, analyse what I can do to improve it, shuffle myself, adjust the angle etc to get the proper framing, depth, exposure, aperture.
Only that's another thing: the camera does all that for you, doesn't it? It has autofocus, auto-flash, auto-aperture, auto-white-balance etc.? Well, I say that people that actually give a damn about the photos, those that might actually have diminished or demolished the livelihood of the professional actually understand these all the more now, actually appreciate the time, effort and expertise of the photographer, and can tell the subtle differences between a simple, quick snap, and one which has taken the time and effort to properly compose, They appreciate all the more the sublimities behind a professionally produced image. Those that don't care, don't have the ability to distinguish these things, but then they wouldn't have instructed a professional in any event.
If anything the mass-proliferation of digital photography has only accentuated photography amongst the public, enhanced it as an art-form. Yes it may have introduced new appreciators, but moreover it has opened opportunities into what was previously an elitist and exclusionary arena for true artists. We may very well be taking more photos ourselves, but we are enjoying even more. I don't think the dispensibility argument holds too true, although I speak from the point of view of someone with an anally organised photo collection where if someone were to request to see a photo or series of photos it could be done instantaneously.
We may not print them out in the old analogue format, but we share them widely over our various websites. See the group when they go out all huddle around the digital screen, cackling away at the comedy pose Brian has taken, see the flood on a Monday morning when you log onto your social site and see the pictures from the party the night before. Whereas once these photographs were a moment, a misty-eyed reminiscence to take place a week after the holiday or on a rainy day with nothing better to do; now they are immediately there. You can see the photos that your friends have taken without having to go around and rummage through their bedroom drawers.
And human nature has bred within us a photographic competitiveness. Everyone is competing against everyone else to show that they have the funniest album, the biggest collection, the best technical eye or simply had the most picturesque holiday. And it is this competitiveness as much as anything that is improving us all as photographers, more than attempting to emulate some stuffy, stuck-up professional who simply 'knows' that they are better than everyone else.
What it does do, is sort the wheat from the chaff - in many ways. Yes, I may have twenty two thousand photos; but whereas before I kept every photo that I took because each one of those prints probably cost around 25p when you consider the cost of the film and printing; and because each one of those photos represents an opportunity supplanted: that because I only had 24 frames, I had to let some snapshots go; these days I am far more selective. Whilst I may have seventeen thousand photos, I can only guess at the number I have deleted: multiples not quite right, blurry shots, fingers in the frame and photos of the inside of my pockets. So the proportion of 'good' photos in those that I have retained has increased.
But it also sorts the wheat from the chaff professionally. Whereas some people previously muddled by, creating stock photos for agencies; they are now having to demark themselves from the competition: the public. And so they have to do things that 'normal' people can't do. Like pay actors or models, buy studios and lighting, or create their own proprietary technique or 'look'.
As with all things, the technology has democratized what was essentially an elitist subject; but moreover it has opened it up to that discussion that I have briefly touched upon before: is it art?
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