St3v3M wrote: ↑
Thu Jan 04, 2018 8:38 am
Anyone with a camera can take an image and some may even know how to process it but I think it takes someone with a love for the subject matter to truly tell the story. Put me in a studio with enough instruction and I'm sure I can take a decent portrait, but will I find their soul? It's different for me in nature though, it's my church and I feel connected, everything speaks to me so how can I not find the beauty waiting to be seen? It's not about the subject it about the storyteller. Everyone has their gifts, some take, some make, but only the gifted know how to tell the story.
I've seen this, done that, and passed. I live for nature but Split Rock And Cloud is not my thing. It reminds me of a sea creature vaulting up to eat a jelly or the used cotton of a band-aid I've pulled off a wound. Did I say I didn't like it? I understand the colors and the framing but I wouldn't want it on my wall, I'd grow tired of it and draw other sea creatures to keep it company. The dark space doesn't bother me so much, but I think it would be so much better in color. It's not the simplicity either, I love good minimalistic work, this one just doesn't do it for me.
I have work from a similar area but not like this as it's not something I would have spent my time on. It's not there for me, there's no story. Maybe that's bad, but my landscapes are about depth and color and emotion. This is something a rock climber would love but to me, it feels like death.
The best take away from this is "The Power of an Image Comes from Emotion." S-
There is not one single thing wrong with not liking a picture. Or a vegetable. Or some other person. I like it, Linda does not. You do not. S'awrite. Close de box. (By the way, though, I like that you see a sea critter, a jellyfish about to be engulfed by Jaws; I saw a comet. Cool interpretation.)
I don't want to skew off topic but what really caught my attention was ...
"Put me in a studio with enough instruction and I'm sure I can take a decent portrait, but will I find their soul?"
I shot portraits day in and day out for a living for 16 years. I do not think I ever captured a soul. Now, I was doing it the way I was taught, pretty cut-and-dry, "good likeness" stuff (in defense a very high percentage of it was business headshots). This is where I tangent off into the "I ain't got no talent" thing, because (no gooshy hero worship here or nuthin') looking at the portraits Ernst posts, even right down to the "business headshots," I think Ernst has that ability. It may be an innate thing, ya got it or ya don't. I was pretty sure "capturing the soul" of a person was a silly myth, no more possible than the literal capturing of a soul in a magic box. I sure as heck couldn't do it! But it appears to me that Ernst and others on our site can. It can't be a technical thing. I can take a pitcher. But taking a pitcher and capturing a soul, the
soul of something...?
Maybe it's not totally off topic because, veering back to Split Rock and Cloud, I think Galen Rowell managed to capture something very intangible on the mountain, something not simply a cut-and-dry mountainscape but rather a piece of the landscape's soul
at that instant in ephemeral time, scudding past as fast as that cloud, never doubling back.
I imagine I was there when that extraordinary cloud scudded into view. What I would have done is raise the camera and shoot it fast. This is not an immovable landscape: It's an amazing
cloud, I've never seen one like it, I may (probably will) never see its like again, so grab it! Quick! It's a frickin' cloud
f'cryin' out loud! The wind is gonna tear it apart in a minute!
So I grab my typical record shot. I have enough experience to include some foreground because it will give some scale and context, but the foreground is whatever happens to be there at that instant. If I think I have it I move on. I got it. Yay. Buh bye cloud.
I don't know what Galen Rowell did when he first spotted that cloud, but as a pro I bet he grabbed it for the simple reason it's a cloud and there are few things more ephemeral. Get it while the gettin's good. But then what does he do? Watching him and his thought process in my imagination I see him grab his gear and start scrambling. He's already got some exposures. He can stop. But he's not me; he's Galen Rowell. He is looking for something as ephemeral as the cloud itself, a foreground that makes the difference between a pitcher of a (frickin' cloud f'cryin' out loud), and Split Rock with Cloud
. Imagining further, in his slightly mad scramble to get there (and he doesn't know where There is until he sees it) he's barked his knuckles and knees because he can't take one eye off the cloud because he knows that any second it will blow apart but he hasn't seen the --- THERE! There it is! That
boulder! With the big crack! He plants his tripod and almost prays that the cloud will go where he needs it. There is pretty much zero control of the scene. He can control the exposure and the focal length, but if the cloud breaks up before it gets there, well... he tried. But luck is with him. His preparations and that scramble on the boulder field pay off. He had only minutes and there it was. The whole thing might have blown up and he'd never have gotten it; only he would know. Serendipity always plays a role.
So that's my scenario. I like the picture but it's perfectly all right to not like it. What impresses me (jus' me) is what I perceive as the genius required to not only perceive the cloud (cool cloud that), but to see beyond the disparate elements to the A R T that happens when an artist puts the elements together. If I am on that mountain I am perfectly satisfied with my first couple of exposures of a unique cloud. A Galen Rowell on that mountain will chase down its soul