Author: G. Steve Jordan

I just finished a wonderful piece in the TIMES about Edward Weston's photographs of Point Lobos, on the California coast (http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2009/03/29/travel/20090329-weston.html)

For those who are not familiar with Weston, he was a contemporary of Ansel Adams and a founding member of the f/64 group of photographers who wanted to distance themselves from romantic imagery and achieve a more clear-eyed look at whatever subject they chose to photograph.

Weston is probably best known for the images he made of peppers and of his toilet bowl – infusing both with a sensual beauty that transcended the subject.

 

What struck me most about the article, however, was the brief description of his simple workflow: he used a basic view camera, developed the film in a darkroom the size of a walk-in closet, and made his prints sans enlarger, instead using a bare, frosted bulb to make contact prints directly from his negatives.

When one considers all the bells and whistles on todays cameras, and the expense and knowledge required to work with digital files on a computer, it seems that, although these new tools allow us to achieve results never before possible, we may be paying a price, literally and figuratively.

My sense from leading workshops and from speaking with people who visit the gallery, is that many of us view cameras, and photography in general, as tremendously complicated – almost akin to magic.

There is indeed something magical about what can be achieved using a computer and digital files, but what we often forget is that the physics of photography hasn't changed since Niepce: light is admitted through a hole in a lens (aperture) by the shutter to the film or sensor – that's all. 

What is especially disconcerting is photographers who are convinced (persuaded by advertising?) that the latest expensive gadget is going to allow them to somehow become better photographers.  While that may be true in a few cases, I think Ansel Adams had it right when, recalling the work of some of his workshop participants he commented that he had "seen a lot of sharp photos and fuzzy concepts."

I've been reading Denis Dutton's book: "The Art Instinct: Beauty, Pleasure and Human Evolution" and have found that it's not as convincing as I'd hoped it would be.  Having the good fortune to photograph in an area that was frequented in the mid to late 1800's by artists of the Hudson Valley School, I was hoping that Dutton would help explain why some of my images are almost an exact match to scenes painted by these artists 150 years ago.

I've posted a painting done by Sanford Gifford in 1864 and some photographs of mine taken from the same spot he must have sketched from.

What is it that makes a landscape compelling across generations?  One would think that cultural influence alone would not be a sufficient explanation, since the culture of post-Civil War America – when these paintings were done – seems very different from today's culture.

I began to think that perhaps we are "wired" in a particular way so that certain landscapes could strike a chord in a very diverse population of viewers. I was familiar in passing with Jung's notion of "archetypes"  –components of a collective unconscious that inform human behavior – and wondered if that might explain this phenomenon.

When I heard Dutton as a guest on the Colbert Report describing his thesis, namely that evolutionary forces can explain the drive that humans have to express themselves artistically and likewise respond to art, I purchased the book.

So far, the argument he makes is interesting but unconvincing.  I'll see if the latter part of the book makes a more compelling case.