I’ve previously written about imitation (e.g. Two Approaches to Photography), but a recent question asked in the Photography section of Reddit caught my interest and is a really good one: “When you look at a photographer you love [and try to imitate them] what are you actually trying to replicate?”
We don’t ask ourselves enough questions about the photography side of photography, and that question is a pretty basic one that deserves an answer.
For me, trying to replicate something someone else is doing is always an attempt to understand what decisions were made and to consider why they were made the way they were. I’m not trying to duplicate another photographer’s style or look, but instead am trying to understand how they might have developed it. Sometimes just the process of discovery reveals something that I either needed to know or at least contemplate.
At WPPI (the big annual Wedding and Portrait photographers conference) a huge number of the training, seminars, and talks there center around lighting. The difference between a Joe McNally and Annie Liebowitz image may start with that. From there, the two also have differing styles in how they “plan” their images as well as how they interact with and “control” their subjects. Understanding those differences helps me think about what I might want to do when I take a portrait and why. [disclosure: I don’t consider myself as currently having a particular portrait style I pursue; thus my interest in what others are doing, and why.]
As a creative artist, I look for ways to put my stamp on how the final image looks. In other words, I’m not trying to replicate a particular look to be able to use that for myself, I’m attempting to understand how the photographer came to create that look.
It’s tough to photograph if you can’t “see”, but exactly what is it that you’re “seeing”? It’s rare I run into someone that is constantly asking themselves that question, yet I believe that it’s one of the primary things that help distinguish your work from that of others. If you’re not trying to create your own unique work, what exactly is it that you’re pursuing photography for?
When I watch a McNally or other well-known photographer work, I’m asking myself a series of questions. One is “why is he or she making that choice?” and another is “would I make the same choice; if so why, and if not, why not?” This is one reason why at conferences such as WPPI I spend most of my time watching other photographers work, as opposed to sitting in lectures that say “do this, then that, then this.” I’m confident that I could teach useful things at WPPI myself, but note what I wrote above: I don’t consider that I have an established portrait style. Thus any demonstration or talk I might give would either be oriented to the technical aspects of something, or simply be improvised theater.
I’m always looking for what problems a photographer faced—e.g. a bad background—how they evaluated that, and then what decisions they made about it. I’m also always looking for the “why” in demonstrations as opposed to the “what.” The gear they’re using isn’t generally relevant, but how they use the gear is.
I should also point out that, even if you establish a look, styles change over time, and so should what you do. Because I’m mostly a sports and wildlife photographer, I try to accomplish that by making time in any session to pursue “new ideas.” I believe I’ve written this before, but I have several “series” of photos I’ve been working on over time that take one specific idea to an extreme. I’ll capture my usual work, but I’ll constantly be pushing and prodding aspects of it to see if I can find “a new angle” or add to one of my existing series.
Which brings us back to the question that started this article: if you’re trying to replicate something, do you know why? In painting, for instance, it’s a common practice to try to replicate famous works by famous artists. This is done not to create a copy of the painting, but rather to learn how brush strokes, layering, color palettes, and more all work together in creating something.
It’s common practice in photography to ask for EXIF data for an image (e.g. focal length, shutter speed, aperture, ISO). As many of you know I hesitate to do that, because when I’ve gone into Socratic mode and asked everyone what knowledge that gains them, their answers are dramatically vague. Moreover, those photographic attributes should be pretty obvious from the photo itself.
It’s a little different if you’re looking at something such as a slow shutter speed and wondering exactly what the value was as well as understand how fast the subject was moving. Those two things—shutter speed and subject motion speed—get pretty nuanced, so maybe there’s something useful in learning the shutter speed a photo was taken at. But only if you also understand the subject motion. 1/15 of a second works different for a runner across the scene than a car moving diagonally versus a small bird flying almost at you. If you’re asking for a shutter speed, you should also be asking yourself “why did that shutter speed work (or didn’t work)?” (Similar things apply to apertures. But knowing the ISO value doesn’t really help you.)
So what questions are you really asking about photographs you like (or don’t like)? The first question, of course, is whether you like a photo or not, but that should immediately lead you down a path of questioning what is and isn’t working, and why.
Before moving on, I should also point out that you won’t (shouldn’t) like all photos you see, even if they might be good ones. You don’t like every motion picture you go to (even if it won awards) or your favorite musician’s latest release.
A photo “works for you” (you like it), or it doesn’t (you don’t like it). No professional photographer I know expects that every image they take will be adored by others. We work hard to make our work stand out and be appreciated, but it’s a fool that thinks that they create greatness every time they press a button.
At workshops I teach that you press that button—the shutter release—because you were attracted to something. (If you’re pressing the shutter release for any other reason, are you just leaving things to chance?) Do you know what that is and why you were attracted to it? The first time that my Africa students see a lion close up, their attraction is “lion.” Great. Now that you have a photo of lion, what next? You’re certainly not done, so what are you thinking about in how to improve your images that contain lions?
I also teach that you should always press the shutter release, even if your camera might not be set right or if you don’t know why you’re pressing the release. Our subconcious brains are telling us something, and if that’s “press the button, dummy” then don’t be a dummy: press the button! However, that should immediately trigger some further critical thinking. Do you understand why you pressed the shutter release?
In the days of film there was a special “lag” we didn’t talk about much: the time before you pressed the shutter release while you considered whether it was economically wise to press the button. That’s both because every photo cost you money (film and developing, maybe printing), but also because we had a limited number of frames (24 or 36, typically) before we had to take the camera out of commission for a period of time while we rewound the film, pulled it from the camera and put it somewhere safe (and maybe labeled it), put in another roll, and started the process of it being loaded for use. 90% chance that pressing the shutter release doesn’t net a useful photo? Then you probably didn’t press the button. 90% change that it would be a useful photo? You almost certainly pressed the button. But there was always a short lag before you did because your brain needed to calculate the odds.
With digital, of course, we don’t have that economical calculation to do: just press the button if you feel you should press the button. However, that can cost you time downstream, where you have to sort out the hits from the misses. Most of us working the sideline in sports press (and often hold) the button, then during the time between plays immediately evaluate whether or not we got what we needed. If not, we press delete and get ready for the next play. While I hate TV timeouts when watching sports, on the sidelines they’re revered, as you get some time to review what you’ve just been doing.
The journalistic questions (who, what, when, where, why, how?) are useful ones for a photographer, too. For example: Was when you pressed the shutter release correct? Do you know why you took the photo? How can the photo be improved?
Since we started this discussion with people trying replicate what a photographer did, it’s important you ask the questions just presented two ways. Why did you take the photo? Why did the original photographer take the photo you’re trying to replicate? You’re not doing yourself (or the original photographer) any justice if you don’t consider things both from your viewpoint and theirs.