Reflecting/musing on a Stephen Shore Quote

[Alex Benjamin]

In his latest book of essays, Modern Instances, Stephen Shore brings up something I find very interesting. Here's the quote (emphasis mine):

"When I was fourteen, I began developing film by inspection. This means looking at film for a fraction of a second under a very dark green safelight while it's developing. It means learning what partially and fully developed film should look like under those conditions. I learned to literally see, when taking pictures, not just in black and white, but like the film/developer/paper combination I was using. Later, when I began working in color, I had also to learn to see like the film and paper. I understood that making a color photograph entailed not seeing the colors and quality of light that my eyes see, but the exact colors and quality of light that the particular film sees. In 1973, the only color negative sheet film available was Kodak Ektacolor. In 1976, Kodak replaced it with Vericolor. I had to learn a new palette and my work changed because of it. I think I was able to make this transition as quickly as I did because more than a decade earlier I had learned to see like Tri-X developed in Microdol-X and printed on Varigam."

I find this passage endlessly fascinating, and there would be much to comment. It is, amongst other things, one of the best definitions I've read regarding what it is to see the world—or rather, to think your vision of the world—as a photographer. It's also a great way to think about, at least in its most general and essential meaning, what is often described as "visualisation" or "pre-visualisation".

"I had to learn a new palette and my work changed because of it" is also an interesting departure point for reflection, in the idea that we adapt not only our technique but also our vision to the tools at our disposal. It may seem counterintuitive, as many think they change their work by personal choice and intent, not because the tools propelled them to. It also leads me back to recent and on-going threads about grain (I won't go back into that rabbit hole here, not the point) and about developers, as well as to some advice I've gotten here a while back, to try and stick to a film/developer combination until you "learn its palette" (to borrow from shore) rather than keeping "experimenting".

Then there is the deeper aesthetico-philosophical question: if the film/developer combination sees the world differently than the eye does, how do we, in turn, looking at the result (be it on paper or on a screen), view the world differently?

 

[Vaughn]

...
Then there is the deeper aesthetico-philosophical question: if the film/developer combination sees the world differently than the eye does, how do we, in turn, looking at the result (be it on paper or on a screen), view the world differently?

This is one of the purposes of my photographic work...to learn to see the world, not differently than an eye sees, but through how the brain responds to the light the eyes receive. Just a slight semantic shift. But there was a major mental movement when I realized the simple fact that I was photographing light as my subject.

I am not prone to experimenting on a wide scale, but tend to focus/experiment more tightly on how the process and my vision mix. This lead me to the one camera - one lens - one developing/printing scheme for a long time...branching out once when experience and pocketbook allowed. Generally, I moved up in (large) format size before I got around to buying a second lens for the smaller format.

 

[Alex Benjamin]

This is one of the purposes of my photographic work...to learn to see the world, not differently than an eye sees, but through how the brain responds to the light the eyes receive. Just a slight semantic shift. But there was a major mental movement when I realized the simple fact that I was photographing light as my subject.

I understand it, but I still find that mental shift difficult—going from focusing on subject as subject to light as subject. It involves a lot of "letting go", of preconceived ideas we have about photography and of why we photograph.

Had the same feeling recently while watching one of Alec Soth's videos where he talks about photographers who have time as their subject.

This lead me to the one camera - one lens - one developing/printing scheme for a long time.

I like this because of the coherence it provides, within all aspects of the work. That said, I do know (my memory fails me now, so no name) of a few bodies of work where the idea was to find coherence within a multiplicity of photographic mediums and techniques—i.e., different films, formats, printing techniques, etc.

Edit: OK, I remember now: It was in a book by Josef Sudek, described by Alec Soth.

 

[MattKing]

Interesting.
Sort of the opposite, in a way, of Garry Winogrand: “I photograph to find out what something will look like photographed.”
For me, photography has always been an iterative process: I see something that interests me, I attempt to photograph it while applying my previous experience with the materials I use and the skills I've developed (or not). Than I attempt to turn the results into prints (mainly) of the type that I envisioned when I encountered the subject. The relative success (or not) of that attempt informs my subsequent photography.
The capabilities and characteristics of the materials are integral to that process. But I wonder if they are more integral to the very focused and purposeful work of someone like Stephen Shore, then they are of someone like me, because I am likely to be trying a bunch of different things for interest while, at the same time working on some more focussed projects.
I would guess that I am much more likely to pick up a camera and choose my film based on how I feel on any particular day than Stephen Shore is.

 

[warden]

In his latest book of essays, Modern Instances, Stephen Shore brings up something I find very interesting. Here's the quote (emphasis mine):

"When I was fourteen, I began developing film by inspection. This means looking at film for a fraction of a second under a very dark green safelight while it's developing. It means learning what partially and fully developed film should look like under those conditions. I learned to literally see, when taking pictures, not just in black and white, but like the film/developer/paper combination I was using. Later, when I began working in color, I had also to learn to see like the film and paper. I understood that making a color photograph entailed not seeing the colors and quality of light that my eyes see, but the exact colors and quality of light that the particular film sees. In 1973, the only color negative sheet film available was Kodak Ektacolor. In 1976, Kodak replaced it with Vericolor. I had to learn a new palette and my work changed because of it. I think I was able to make this transition as quickly as I did because more than a decade earlier I had learned to see like Tri-X developed in Microdol-X and printed on Varigam."

I find this passage endlessly fascinating, and there would be much to comment. It is, amongst other things, one of the best definitions I've read regarding what it is to see the world—or rather, to think your vision of the world—as a photographer. It's also a great way to think about, at least in its most general and essential meaning, what is often described as "visualisation" or "pre-visualisation".

"I had to learn a new palette and my work changed because of it" is also an interesting departure point for reflection, in the idea that we adapt not only our technique but also our vision to the tools at our disposal. It may seem counterintuitive, as many think they change their work by personal choice and intent, not because the tools propelled them to. It also leads me back to recent and on-going threads about grain (I won't go back into that rabbit hole here, not the point) and about developers, as well as to some advice I've gotten here a while back, to try and stick to a film/developer combination until you "learn its palette" (to borrow from shore) rather than keeping "experimenting".

Then there is the deeper aesthetico-philosophical question: if the film/developer combination sees the world differently than the eye does, how do we, in turn, looking at the result (be it on paper or on a screen), view the world differently?

This isn't the first time you've mentioned that book so I guess I'm going to need to pick up a copy now. ;-)

I can't say that I've "learned to see" with a particular film/paper combination in mind, but for sure with different aspect ratios I see differently. I'm a casual shooter so I usually take one camera and lens on a long walk and it's a completely different feel for me if I'm walking with a 6x7 as opposed to a 35mm format camera for instance. I just see differently with 6x7 (or square, or whatever).

Vaughn's comments on seeing and photographing light are spot on I think. Fan Ho is a good example of a master at this. When I see and capture light in a way that pleases me it's often because of timing, or weather, luck, etc, but I do look for it along with other subject matter.

 

[Alex Benjamin]

but for sure with different aspect ratios I see differently.

This is certainly an important part of what Shore is talking about. I've experienced it quite often in 120, going from the square format to 6x7. But as I've been struggling with the square recently, and after reading your comment as well as pondering over the Stephen Shore quote, I'm starting to think that, for me at least, it's less a question of me seeing (or looking?) differently when changing formats, but rather not having taken the time to learn to see how the square format sees differently.

The difference—one looking differently with a different camera vs one seeing as the camera sees—is subtle, and probably akin to some to trying to figure out the sex of angels, but I find it worth looking into (pun intended).

I does remind me that I only recently noticed that in one of Robert Adams' books in his Denver series (can't remember which), all the interior shots are in 6x6 and all the exterior shots are what seems to be 6x7 (or maybe 4x5). At first, I thought it was just a matter of convenience, i.e., the Rolleiflex being easier to carry indoors than the other format, but there might be something more to it.

The Fan Ho is magnificent. As a photo book collector, I've been wanting to have one of his in my shelves for a while.

The capabilities and characteristics of the materials are integral to that process. But I wonder if they are more integral to the very focused and purposeful work of someone like Stephen Shore, then they are of someone like me

This type of focus does seem to go beyond his concept of photography and be part of his personality. There is a whole chapter on the idea of "paying attention" in the book that points to this. It opens with "One of the repeated themes in my work is the idea of experiencing the everyday world with attention," and later has this great passage: "When I began working with an 8x10 camera and color film in 1974, I realized, seeing the vividness of the pictures it produced, that it was photography's technical means, at the time, of communicating what the world looked like when experienced in a state of heightened awareness..."

 

[NB23]

If Steven Shore posted as “robert Harvey 123”, in this very forum, would be treated as a liar, a Bozo, a con, by a lot of in-house self appointeds that have, at most, 0.001% of his experience.

That’s all I have to say on this.

 

[warden]

This is certainly an important part of what Shore is talking about. I've experienced it quite often in 120, going from the square format to 6x7. But as I've been struggling with the square recently, and after reading your comment as well as pondering over the Stephen Shore quote, I'm starting to think that, for me at least, it's less a question of me seeing (or looking?) differently when changing formats, but rather not having taken the time to learn to see how the square format sees differently.

The difference—one looking differently with a different camera vs one seeing as the camera sees—is subtle, and probably akin to some to trying to figure out the sex of angels, but I find it worth looking into (pun intended).

I does remind me that I only recently noticed that in one of Robert Adams' books in his Denver series (can't remember which), all the interior shots are in 6x6 and all the exterior shots are what seems to be 6x7 (or maybe 4x5). At first, I thought it was just a matter of convenience, i.e., the Rolleiflex being easier to carry indoors than the other format, but there might be something more to it.

The Fan Ho is magnificent. As a photo book collector, I've been wanting to have one of his in my shelves for a while.

The prices for Fan Ho's books are dear, but I want them too!

I think seeing with aspect ratio is probably easier than seeing with film and paper in mind, because the camera gives you a literal window to look through in a certain aspect ratio, and you can quickly adjust to it as needed. An exception for me would be the rare occasions when I use color film. In that case I'm looking for color almost exclusively, whereas with black and white I'm looking for everything.

 

[Alex Benjamin]

I think seeing with aspect ratio is probably easier than seeing with film and paper in mind, because the camera gives you a literal window to look through in a certain aspect ratio, and you can quickly adjust to it as needed.

That last part is my very problem. Whenever I take out the 6x6, I'm constantly adjusting. Best analogy I can find is that it's as if rather than thinking in a language while I',m speaking it, in my mind I'm translating from one language to another. In the end, it sounds OK, mostly, but there's something in the thought process that's incomplete, inadequate. I feel the same way with 6x6: I'm making myself understood, but I'm not really thinking in the format's language.

 

[Alex Benjamin]

But there was a major mental movement when I realized the simple fact that I was photographing light as my subject.

@Vaughn : I've read this from you a couple of times in here. I'm curious: did this come suddenly, as a sort of epiphany, during an photographic outing—looking at a subject with the sudden realization that you are actually looking at light—, or is it the fruit of a longer, reflective process?

 

[Don_ih]

"I learned to literally see, when taking pictures, not just in black and white, but like the film/developer/paper combination I was using."

This is great for him but not possible for most - especially now, when most people are seeing through a screen on their phone as their first photos at 14 (or whenever). However, in terms of a mastery of tools and material, it is an apt description of what everyone experiences once they have picked up a real ability to use a tool on a material. That is, what he's talking about had more to do with a practice than anything conceptual or theoretical. You use a tool and material to the extent where you can intuit the responses of the material to the actions you undertake using the tool. That is the transit of intent to the real.
Some photographers will never have exactly the experience he describes simply because they don't stick to one film, don't make their own prints, don't stick to one camera, etc. You will have difficulty faulting the clarity of their vision for those things, though. For those people, that particular mastery is irrelevant to the practice they have adopted. They have their own methods.

 

[Alex Benjamin]

in terms of a mastery of tools and material, it is an apt description of what everyone experiences once they have picked up a real ability to use a tool on a material. That is, what he's talking about had more to do with a practice than anything conceptual or theoretical.

You're absolutely right about this, and that's exactly how Shore speaks about it, associating this to a "first level of mastery," which he calls "the physical/technical level."

Other two are "formal mastery" and "mental mastery."

 

[Bill Burk]

Thanks @Alex Benjamin it’s interesting to overlay written thoughts on an impression of images over an artist’s life.

We all know Ansel Adams’ thoughts on visualization (or by any other name like pre-visualization or Zone System).

In this case I know Stephen Shore drove the edges of color negative film and print. My impression is that he kept his images high and flat. And it’s interesting to hear now he had to re-tool a few times.

I prepared to face a change (hence my interest in TMAX100 and it’s potential developers). But I feel lucky having Panatomic-X and Ilford Galerie still available to me as a syntax. I didn’t know it then, but the fact is it still behaves as good as new.

 

[Vaughn]

@Vaughn : I've read this from you a couple of times in here. I'm curious: did this come suddenly, as a sort of epiphany, during an photographic outing—looking at a subject with the sudden realization that you are actually looking at light—, or is it the fruit of a longer, reflective process?

One of the moments of realization was while printing a 4x5 negative (making a 16x20). The scene was a close-up of diffused light falling on a bush. Before I started printing the image, it was just a bush with some nice light on it..by the end of the printing session it was an image of ther light reflecting off a bush. It was the realization that when I walk under the redwoods for hours with the cameras, I am looking at pools of light creating their own forms in the landscape -- and when I was composing in my mind and on the GG, it was these forms that were driving the composition...not just the features (redwoods, streams, etc) reflecting the light.

So it was a realization of what I was doing all along (what I like to call a delayed intelligence) -- rather than a decision to start photographing a certain way.

 

[faberryman]

I'll concede that Stephen Shore is a great color photographer, even though a lot of his work doesn't do much for me, but his observation that he learned to see colors through the film and paper seems like stating the obvious rather than some sort of epiphany. Anybody who has done even a modicum of color film work knows that different films have different palettes and different "looks". I haven't done any color film work in many years, but I remember quite clearly that the scene in front of me was going to look different if I were shooting Kodachrome 25, Kodachrome 64, Ektachrome, or High Speed Ektachome, not to mention Agfachrome, Velvia, or 3M ScotchChrome. Does this really come as any surprise to anyone? And paper? Is it really eye-opening that C-prints on different manufacturers' papers look different, or that C-prints look different than Cibachrome prints, which look different than dye transfer prints? Hello.

It should be noted that some photographers cannot adjust to a change in materials. Frederick Evans, the foremost architectural photographer of his day, quit photography altogether when he could no longer obtain platinum papers. I'm sympathetic to his plight. Once you've printed platinum palladium, it is hard to go back to gelatin silver.

 

[gone]

Back when photojournalists/photographers all used film cameras. a lot of people didn't like to shoot B&W and color on the same day. Both required a particular knowledge of how the pics would look, and if someone had to think about this, you might as well say goodbye to the shot, it's been missed.

Everything I've learned from experience and from reading how others do this indicates we should tune our film shooting and developing to the enlarger and papers we plan on using. That really has to be done experientially, since the way I like things to look is not how someone else may like things.

As faberryman said, different films have native appearances. Knowing how things will look after the shot is of course a benefit. This comes only through knowing your tools, and knowing your films/developers/papers. It's really not rocket science, it seems as if Shore is just stating the obvious.

 

[Alex Benjamin]

One of the moments of realization was while printing a 4x5 negative (making a 16x20). The scene was a close-up of diffused light falling on a bush. Before I started printing the image, it was just a bush with some nice light on it..by the end of the printing session it was an image of ther light reflecting off a bush. It was the realization that when I walk under the redwoods for hours with the cameras, I am looking at pools of light creating their own forms in the landscape -- and when I was composing in my mind and on the GG, it was these forms that were driving the composition...not just the features (redwoods, streams, etc) reflecting the light.

So it was a realization of what I was doing all along (what I like to call a delayed intelligence) -- rather than a decision to start photographing a certain way.

Thanks for the insight. I think many of us quest for that moment when the intuitive suddenly becomes knowledge, as if it had been just waiting for its time.