Working Hard on a Photograph

I mentioned at the end of the previous post that all three of my most favorite photos of our dog Lulu can all be seen in one post from 2011...this one. I have others I like, but those three are my favorites.

It's a funny triad to me, for one arcane little reason: I didn't work at all on two of them—and for the third, I worked like a sonofabitch. The contrast in efficiency couldn't have been greater.

Before I give you the details, let me remind you of a couple of things: first, Ctein's famous column "No One Cares How Hard You Worked." (Can that really be nine years old now?! That's hard to fathom.) Ctein credited the quote to Bob Nadler of Camera 35. Bob's/Ctein's point was simple: it's the end result that matters. You don't necessarily get any "extra credit" for pouring a lot of work into getting a picture. People are just going to look at the picture and react based on what they see. But the other thing I wanted to mention is that sometimes you do need to work hard to get what you want.

The first and third pictures of Lulu at the link were casual snaps taken on the day we met her. My then-friend Gabi brought Lulu downstairs to neutral territory (the alley behind her apartment building) for the big first meeting, which went well. Then Xander took Lulu's leash as we all walked to a nearby park. Since she had recently been feral, we didn't let her off the leash. Lying around in the grass at the park, I was casually snapping pictures like I always do. Not working hard in the slightest.

The middle picture was another kettle of fish altogether. It was a regular sight in the Winters: Xander, who was about 14 at the time, would get under a comforter on the couch to watch The Simpsons and Malcolm in the Middle (a favorite retort at the time: "you're not the boss of me," which came from the Malcolm theme song), and Lulu, who has a light coat and often got cold, would climb in with him. If something caught their attention they'd both look together. I'd say something and both of them would look at me as if to say, "we're busy. What do you want?"

The first try at a picture was not even adequate. Second and third, ditto. I tried this, that and the other thing on various nights. One "nope, that ain't it" followed another. Nothing seemed to be working. It just wouldn't gel. You know what golfers mean by the term "grinding it out"? It means that you keep slogging even when things aren't going well, giving every shot your all (every time you see some tyro getting angry at his own poor performance on a golf course—as if the Universe owes him a good round, despite the fact that he never practices—just think, "not a grinder"). I finally set up a studio flash right next to the couch, worked out the exposure, and just left the light there—whenever the two of them were watching TV together I'd attach the sync cord to the camera and make another attempt. Finally I got the picture you see and decided I was satisfied.

The score
The point is that there's a rejoinder to Ctein's and Bob's claim: No one cares how hard you worked, true, but you have to work as hard as you have to. I'm reminded of my boss at the audio salon where I briefly moonlighted the year before Xander was born. He was an extremely effective salesman, and his method was this: he would decide what he wanted each customer to buy, and then he would work until he made that "score" as he called it. I saw him work for ten minutes once selling a $10,000 Krell amplifier (maybe $3,000 profit for the store—I forget the exact margin on each brand), but another time I saw him work for two days, devoting several hours each day, to sell a cheap Denon receiver to a guy with a thin wallet, to earn a profit for the store of maybe $90. The contrast in time-efficiency could not have been more stark. I asked him about it, and he just shrugged and said, "you work as hard as you have to to make the score." That's how he saw it in his mind.

I'll never make a salesman, but I think the lesson transfers to pictures. Sometimes you can take the most casual snapshot imaginable and it turns out to be wonderful. Other times, you grind. It doesn't matter. You just work as hard as you have to.

I don't like that middle picture any more than the other two. But I don't like it any less.

...To be continued. Next up: what does "working hard" on a photograph actually mean? What are some of the ways photographers work hard?

Mike
(Thanks to Ctein from long ago)

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[Dave Morris]

What I particularly appreciate is when you work really hard on something and then you're also incredibly lucky.

Like when I took this photo in Marrakech, which I also wrote about back in 2011: https://dave-morris-blog.tumblr.com/post/16574121007/medersa2011

...Was the universe particularly kind to me because it saw that I'd thought hard abnout the shot and wanted to give me some extra luck? Or was I just able to take advantage of the lucky break because I'd already been thinking so hard about it?

Either way, as a more famous person than me used to say: 'I love it when a plan comes together'.

[Mark Hobson]

re: working hard on a photograph ...

The curmudgeonly Bill Jay said it best:

"...photographers who carry 60 pounds of equipment up a hill to photograph a view are not suffering enough, although their whining causes enough suffering among their listeners. No, if they really expect us to respect their search for enlightenment and artistic expression, in [the] future they will drag the equipment up the hill by their genitals and take the view with a tripod leg stuck through their foot."

[Jerker Andersson]

…and even if a picture may be hard to get/arrange/snap, it´s not supposed to LOOK hard to get. Or else the the result will inevitably look "skitnödigt", as my late grandmother used to say. I suppose the first part of the word is understandable even for non-swedish speakers. The second part means something like "needy". Anyway, we don´t want a result that makes a Point of the effort behind the picture. Rather, most of us likely strive for a result that looks, well, easy as opposed to difficult.

[You have stumped Google, not easy to do. What does "skitnödigt" mean? --Mike]

[John Willard]

As the expression goes. Sometimes you are just trying to make chicken salad out of chicken shit.

[DENNIS M]

Hit or flop takes the same amount of work. No one but those involved care. Nor should they.

[Dennis]

Just playing devil's advocate here. When it comes to our family, friends, pets and other things meaningful to us, we're often inclined to appreciate photographs that show us those subjects with an identifying gesture, facial expression or that connect us with a memory. These types of photos aren't nearly as interesting to strangers.
So as Lulu's owner, you may not care how hard you worked on those, because they're you're three favorites pictures of her. But to me, the one you worked on looks intentional and interesting, while the other two look like what you described - snapshots. They aren't as interesting to me as the better composed, better lit shot.
I recall that article and agree with the point that if the photo isn't interesting, then telling the viewer how hard you worked doesn't make it better. But I suspect there's a fair correlation between effort and result.

[KeithB]

As for the grinding thing, there was an article at 538 about the fact that people *expect* random things to turn their way, rather than staying, well, random.
https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/the-hard-truth-of-poker-and-life-youre-never-due-for-good-cards/

It seems that some video games tweak the rules of probability in the game to make it conform to this reality.

[Stan B.]

And that can also apply after the picture is taken. There are times when I'm pressing the shutter on a possible sure shot, and my mind's already dreading... that's gonna be one hell of a mother to get done right!

[Roger Bradbury]

All three pix are good, but the one in the middle, I really like. It's the look in the eyes of both boy and dog, I think.

[rp]

I've never agreed with that Ctein column. I think many people care about how hard an artist worked to get the final image, painting, sculpture, etc. Lay people care because it makes the work seem more impressive -- a 20' x 30' realistic painting by Gericault or Raphael is going to be seen as more impressive than an abstract or a smaller painting because it's perceived as more technically difficult. On the other end of the spectrum, experts and professionals care because they'll be interested in the technique and how the work was created. Perhaps there's a band in the middle who appreciate the work for it's own sake and are not impressed by the technical difficulty or interested in the act of creation, but I don't think it's a large number.

[Keith]

I once did a series of images of an old historic and much loved bridge in the community that was soon to be destroyed. Due to logistical reasons of my erratic work schedule, I don't do my own printing as it can be 2-3 months between opportunities to print. I work with a custom printer to create my prints onto Hahnemuhle Photo Rag 308. I had 12 images printed from the series, 11 of them were right after 1 or 2 proofs. The exception, and probably the "hero" shot of the set, I had printed about 10-12 proofs before getting it right. It paid off a year or so later during a local exhibition wherein some of the viewers actually had to wipe tears while viewing the one image that gave me fits.

[Greg Heins]

I've been reading things either about or by musicians lately, both "classical" and "jazz." I'm impressed by two things. One is how willing they are to give credit to others and not pretend that everything was the result of their own genius. The other is just how damn hard they work. Every day. I find myself wondering how many photographers work that hard.