The What ('Bones' Part II)

Old print in a box

Photography is unique among the arts and crafts in that it can't (or mostly doesn't) come from nowhere. There had to be what you might call a "what"—the pretext, the thing the camera was pointed at when the picture was taken. That was the case with photography, defined as any method of dumbly capturing the image cast by a lens. The situation changes with digital imaging, which is ten times or a hundred times more easily and undetectably altered, and now by synthographs, made by "AI," in which a photographical-style illustrative image with no pretext in the real world is generated by a computer. Digital imaging is a different thing than photography, although the two have been willfully jammed up together into one thing ("digital photography," which always struck me as an oxymoron, or at least an oxymoron waiting to happen) because of the fact that it is possible to not alter and manipulate a digital image beyond simple correction, thus making it into a photograph (even though the viewer cannot be reasonably certain it is). But synthography is a different thing altogether, and belongs to a completely different class of imagemaking altogether. It is as unlike photography as linocuts or stone lithography. But put all that aside and pretend that we are talking about an art/craft that involved making pictures by pointing a lens and recording its image—the sort of thing that required a "what."

For the creator, the photographer, the classic big question then was, what is the what?

Pants legs
In photography school I got interested in the question "how many possible photographs are there?", and, as an experiment (ever the empiricist), I shut myself up in the lowest, half-underground level of my mother's townhouse on O Street in Georgetown one dull Sunday afternoon—Mom was away—and resolved to shoot as many pictures as I could find. The entire house was only 11 feet wide, but deep, and five stories high. The lower level consisted of a small dining room with a fireplace and a round table on a pedestal, a tiny kitchen that mother claimed she could cook in without ever moving her feet, which was only a slight exaggeration—it had a fold-down table that blocked the entryway when it was up, such that when she had something going on on that table she had to get down on all fours and crawl under it to get in and out of the kitchen—and of course the descending end of the staircase, under which was a powder room, which is what Mom called a half-bath. French doors opened onto the stone patio and the walled-in garden, but I set the condition that I had to shoot inside. I was armed for the experiment with two six-packs of beer; my robust Gitzo tripod, which I quickly became too lazy to deploy; the small television which was located on that level of her house; of course my camera, a Contax 139Q; and a 100-foot "bulk roll" of Kodak Plus-X that I had just rolled into reusable cassettes using a Watson bulk loader. So I had something like 21 rolls of 35-exposure film—I used 35, not 36, because that way they all fit in a 7-row x 5-frame PrintFile sheet, which in turn all fit on an 8x10 proof sheet. Enough film for 735 shots. For you film-virgin digital shooters out there, that was considered a lot. I had the cost of each shot tracked out to the very farthing, although it's been so long I don't recall what it was: the cost of the film, per frame, the developing chemicals, pro-rated (I developed my film myself, of course), the PrintFile sheet that held the negatives and the sheet of 8x10 paper for the contacts each divided by 35. The per-shot total wasn't much, but it seemed like it was, because I didn't work a job at the time—I was in art school for a living.

Anyway, I took every picture I could think of, and then many more. I wish I could remember how many rolls of film I used up; it wasn't all of them, and, simultaneously, it was way too many. I took pictures of the fringe of the rug, everything on the mantel, every object in the kitchen. I disallowed the television screen, because it imported "pictures" that were not native to that floor of the house. I took self portraits, pictures of cracks in the plaster, ten pictures of a doorknob, etc. I actually got into it for a few hours. The interest faded as subjects became steadily harder to come by. I was down there for more than six hours, and quit due to drunkenness.

I learned the obvious lesson, which is that the number of possible pictures even in the smallest space is infinity. I admit I thought contemptuous thoughts when, later, I read about the artist Robert Rauschenberg's discovery of photography, about which he said something like, "I wanted to photograph everything!" Every square inch of the world. Good luck*. 

Rather remarkably, I ended up getting something out of it, though. I edited all those pictures down, made prints of six of the pictures, and got a critique out of it. It wasn't poorly received, either, by the teachers or the class. They weren't bad, but only one was what I'd call "good," a picture of two silver candlesticks with overlapping shadows from several different lights. One was a picture of the ornate Kleenex-box cover on the back of the toilet (above), another was a picture of my corduroy-clad pants legs looking down at the base of the table, with almost nothing in focus. That one was probably taken when there were only a few beers left.

Here's the point
Anyway, to come down to it: for a photographer, an idea is any intellectual notion that facilitates and motivates working. What else could possibly have set me to taking endless numbers of pictures in a place with no pictures—what else, other than an idea? The idea can last six hours, like my little one just described, or it can last a lifetime, like William Wegman's idea, which I would argue is equally small, though obviously much more flexible and enabling. It can be purely visual, it can be technical, it can be subject-oriented, it can be illustrative of some concept, it can be documentary, it can be some notion of a methodology, it can be the pursuit of a feeling or some kind of stance—I could think of ten more things to say, but that would imply I had made an exhaustive list, whereas that can't be true—the number of possible ideas is as actually large as the number of possible pictures in the lowest floor of my mother's townhouse. It's what enables you. Whatever gets you past not-doing and into doing. Whatever you can think up that answers the question what is the what going to be. A good idea sets you free.

Mike

*By the way, did you know that photography was Rauschenberg's first interest, and he was torn between becoming a photographer or an artist? He ended up being both, in a way, because he used photographs so persistently in his work. David White, co-editor of the posthumous book Robert Rauschenberg: Photographs: 1949–1962 and Rauschenberg's curator from 1980 until he died in 2008, said, "it is surprising how little attention Rauschenberg’s photographs have gotten, considering it was his primary interest."

(Bones Part I)

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Featured Comments from:

Stan B.: "You could probably drop off John Gossage anywhere on god's green earth and he could make interesting, memorable photos of the most banal and mundane. That's not to say I'm gobsmacked by all of his images, it's just that I can't believe how many featuring the most everyday, overlooked objects, tableaus, or scenarios actually succeed in grabbing my attention and holding it—making me linger, question, marvel...see! Scenes I would have blissfully ignored in real life, walking right on through complaining all the while, 'Sh*t, there ain't a g-d thing to photograph around here!'"

Mike replies: Here's my portrait of John, inside an art installation on the roof of Dia Chelsea in Manhattan. I haven't been in touch with him in years unfortunately. The tones don't look great—I didn't want to take the print out of the book it's in.

Scott Abbey: "Re: digital photography, which always struck me as an oxymoron': If one would accept that photography is always grounded on a physical subject that exists in the real world, then I would argue that there is usefulness in appending a modifier such as the process used to the noun photography, as in wet plate photography, dry plate photography, film photography, and (yes) digital photograph . I might also talk about still life photography or wildlife photography. They are all just helpful qualifiers to further describe the photography you are doing. And all of these are distinct from digital art forms that don’t start with a real-world subject."

Nick Cutler: "What is 'The What'? I have a picture of a British policeman in full uniform, standing in a river, water up to his knees, holding a large fish. The picture could have been created by an ai image generator. The picture could have been created by hiring an actor, hiring a police uniform, borrowing a large fish, travelling to a location.... Both approaches create an artificial scene that is not a picture of a real 'what.' Neither would be 'true.'

"The 'What' and reality. Some friends of ours used to live in a slightly crumbling but lovely old house in a small English midlands town. For some incomprehensible reason they allowed a glossy magazine, Country Homes or some such, to visit and create a set of photographs of the interior. The published article had almost zero resemblance to the house: everything had been re-arranged, flower vases added, rugs draped, camera carefully positioned and pictures edited to avoid any semblance of any space that a family actually lived in. The magazine's advertising sales team needed to make everything resemble the aspirational interiors in the ads selling furniture and high class paintwork."

Comments

[Bruce Bordner]

This is why I'm not an artist - I just try to record art that I find. My work is "scatter shot" because I keep seeing things. Oh, look at that!
50+ years of looking for images through a viewfinder affects your brain. "You see, but you do not observe." I try to notice reality - it's constantly amazing. But it's fun, not art. I need to work harder...

[Richard Alan Fox]

That is a nice print.
I saw the word bones and first glance thought it was a piece of ivory shaped like a salmon fillet on a jewel box.
Rolling film from bulk seemed like an invitation to disaster, a brick or two of Panatomic-X was more to my taste.

[Kodachromeguy]

"Digital imaging is a different thing than photography, although the two have been willfully jammed up together into one thing ("digital photography," which always struck me as an oxymoron" You wrote a similar opinion about a decade ago. I agree 100%. But I'll sit back and read the new howls of indignation and outrage from some readers here.

[Ronny A Nilsen]

"...because of the fact that it is possible to not alter and manipulate a digital image beyond simple correction, thus making it into a photograph (even though the viewer cannot be reasonably certain it is)."

Actually, if a viewer want to be sure that an image is a true photograph it must be a digital image. Only way to prove the provenance. Read about Coalition for Content Provenance and Authenticity (C2PA).

[Not THAT Ross Cameron]

Thanks for that post Mike - very informative and thought provoking.

One Q - is there a difference between the idea and the resulting photograph, by which I mean something that would come out the end of the editing process? I.e. the number of ideas is only limited by the photographers imagination. However, the number of resulting edited photographs is limited by the photographers imagination and technical skills in resolving the idea into a ‘useful’ final image (sorry, useful may not be the best term - I’m reading this over breakfast so my brain is still waking up).

And extending that into the AI discussion. I like the term synthograph for the resulting image, per a previous post. However the process of producing said synthograph could arguably be the result of CGI by a graphic designer, as a separate subset of the graphic arts. Even if a photographer takes their own images to use as inputs into an AI tool, they’re taking on the role of a graphic designer in using the tool.

I’m relying on Wikipedia for my definition of graphic design, so there may be better definitions out there. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graphic_design

From the above, I like this quote - “graphic design transforms a linguistic message into a graphic manifestation.” - acknowledging that we now have imagery as input into AI too.

In general, once humans bring new technology capabilities into the mix, it tends to upend what we already have, and we have to adjust and adapt to it too.

[Dave]

In re: AI synthographs, Luigi couldn't get an AI program to match what he was trying to duplicate:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yjh65tf54Eg

[Christer Almqvist]

At first look I thought the picture showed a wrapped banana on a horizontal support. Not a banana affixed to a vertical support with the aid of duct tape.

I like the picture. You should make a print sale, not of pictures made by Ctein or Turnley but of your own work.

[Speed]

What else could possibly have set me to taking endless numbers of pictures in a place with no pictures ...

The pictures were there. The job of the photographer is/was to find them. Like gold or oil or a friend.

[John Patton]

Mike, One of your best articles.

[Stan B.]

Nice environmental portrait!

[Gary Nylander]

I wrote a "Statement of Technique" for my website to help explain to viewers what goes on behind the making of my photographs, sort of like an Artist's Statement. I thought this would help people better understand my art.

[Herman Krieger]

Not, what is photography, but where do you find it?

[Moose]

"David White . . ., Rauschenberg's curator from 1980 until he died in 2008, said, "it is surprising how little attention Rauschenberg’s photographs have gotten, considering it was his primary interest.""

Isaac Newton's primary interest was in Theology. He considered it the most important thing about which he wrote. The science was just a sideline.