Darwin Wiggett and I have started a column swap in our blogs. Every other month we are writing our individual opinions on a common topic. Soon we will have a name for what we are doing, but for now, this month’s topic was “Photoshop and Nature Photography: How Far is Too Far?

You can view Samantha Chrysanthou and Darwin Wiggett’s post on my site by clicking here.

And you can view my post on Darwin’s site by clicking here.

Our next posting will be at the beginning of October, so mark your calendars. That will be the third take on this idea and by then we should know what to call it. In the meantime, read both posts and give us your feedback, we would love to hear what you think.

Please also visit Samantha’s website and Darwin’s website they are both extremely talented photographers.

Photoshop and Nature Photography: How Far is Too Far?

by Samantha Chrysanthou and Darwin Wiggett

Samantha’s website | Samantha’s blog
Darwin’s Website | Darwin’s blog

In the popular view, photography is more realistic than any other graphic art because the camera takes its images directly, optically from reality….However, all art is illusion…and a photograph as much as a painting is a two-dimensional exercise in triggering perceptual responses, not a two-dimensional version of the real world.

–Michael Freeman, The Photographer’s Eye: Composition and Design for Better Digital Photos

The nature photography world is locked in an unwinnable and pointless debate: how far should you process your nature images before you stray from photography into art? This debate can be seen as a continuum, with those photographers who inherently distrust digital photography altogether (preferring the ‘purity’ of film) occupying one end of the spectrum; let’s call them the Purists. These people shun altering the content or look of a photograph after depressing the shutter (although filters and reflectors may be used in the field) and believe that any processing that does occur is acceptable only so far as it helps to faithfully reproduce what the photographer actually saw in the field at time of capture.

On the other end of the spectrum are the digital manipulators. These types spend as much time (if not more) working an image at their computer as in the field taking pictures. These photographers employ cloning, processing affects, HDR, and the creation of composite images regularly to freely alter the content and look of their images. Let’s call them the Processors.

The Purists and the Processors have been engaged in a battle that has heated up to the temperature of molten metal since the advent of digital cameras. The Purists accuse the Processors of lying with their wacky creations, and the Processors accuse the Purists of hypocrisy. (A similar debate about how the camera should be used occurred when colour images became possible. Ho hum, plus ça change…) While most photographers would situate themselves somewhere more in the middle of the continuum, enough people exist at each pole to drive plenty of photo forum discussions and blog topics across the whole of cyberspace.

But this entire debate rests on a flawed assumption.

What the Purists and the Processors are arguing about is how much a photograph is or is not reality. But as Michael Freeman points out, all graphic art is an illusion. Graphic art includes paintings, drawings, writing—and photography. No two-dimensional medium is capable of reproducing our three-dimensional world; all attempts are necessarily a representation or interpretation of what is real.

How did this debate even originate within nature photography? Part of the answer lies in the nature of the camera as an artistic tool itself. The camera is designed to record and present visual information derived “directly, optically” from reality. It works in real time, with real objects. Because of how well the camera records and reproduces visual information, it came to be associated over time with communication of visual information to large amounts of people. Thus, at some point, the camera became less associated with artistic expression and more with communication of information. Information (as opposed to opinion) is often seen as objective and neutral; the origin of the camera as a purveyor of fact (reality) is born.

This association clearly continues today. In the September 2009 issue of Photolife magazine, we read the words of renowned aerial photographer and filmmaker Yann Arthus-Bertrand on his work:

I am an extremely dedicated photographer: a beautiful photograph that means nothing is of no interest to me. For me, photography is not an end in itself but a means for transmitting a message, for bearing witness, and for moving things forward. I feel more like a journalist than an artist because I attempt to bring knowledge through my photographs.

The camera has become conflated with the communication of information rather than a platform for artistic expression for its own sake. But this association has not served the photo community well.

Let’s imagine two photographers standing side-by-side by a mountain lake. Both compose and snap a photograph of the scene before them. Will their images be the same portrayal of reality? Obviously not as even superficially they weren’t standing in the same exact spot. But beyond that give-away, their images are likely to be different in other respects too. One may choose to frame more of the lake and less of the mountain; the other may select a long lens and focus on the mountain’s peak; one may use a consumer camera while the other has a professional camera body. How each photographer makes the image is the first way in which a photograph becomes an illusion of reality. Not only does the equipment used have an impact on the final result recorded, but what each photographer chooses to include—and by extension, exclude— determines what image is rendered. The photographer uses a combination of sensory perception, emotion and conscious or unconscious thought to constrain the real scene in front of him into a two-dimensional illustration.

The second way in which a photograph becomes an illusion of reality is when it comes time to turn the data captured by the camera (whether on film or sensor) into a mode capable of being viewed by people. This is where the Purists really get their knickers in a knot. Although many Purists are happy to step into a scene, pick up a stick and throw it away, they will frown on those lazy Processors who decide to just clone out the stick in post-processing. We agree that a good photographer tries to get the best data possible at the time of capture; the principle of ‘garbage in, garbage out’ definitely applies to photography! But does it really matter if you have to walk into a scene to physically remove a stick or whether you clone it out in post-processing?

For some magazines it matters. Many editors will not accept nature images that have been ‘digitally manipulated’. Aside from the definition issues that arise with such a term, what does this mean? At the time of capture, a scene can be manipulated or altered from the eye-view of the photographer by the use of special filters, lens choice and ‘pruning’ but the same effect will not be accepted if done at home on the computer? The silliness of this position is revealed when we compare the reaction to traditional, black and white photography to digitally altered, colour images. There is a certain amount of gravitas associated with black and white imagery that is likely left over from the fact that photography was birthed in a world incapable of colour expression. Modern fine art photographers tap into the flexibility inherent in this tradition and present their work in black and white. And yet, if we were truly representing reality, wouldn’t all nature images submitted in black and white be rejected by Purists now that we can shoot in colour? The legitimacy attached to black and white expression survives because of its origins, not its accuracy in communicating reality. It is an allowed exception in the nature photography world to the demand for realism because it was the only way a photograph could be made in the beginnings of the craft.

Framing the debate as a question of ‘how far’ you can go with digital manipulation is a direct result of viewing the camera as a device to record reality rather than a tool for representation or expression of real things. We have become hung up on seeing the camera as a way of communicating information about our subjects and forget that we cannot replicate our three-dimensional world into two-dimensional ‘facts’.

This type of thinking has brought us to a zero-sum game. The Purists refuse to embrace new tools of expression (like digital technology) and are limited in their growth as artists and photographers. (At this point, a short clarification is in order: we do not think all those who shoot in film are Luddites. Medium choice is the artist’s prerogative. We happen to shoot both digital and film for various purposes of expression). The Processors straddle the grey-ish area between photographers and software artists. Neither side can understand the other and believes that their perspective is the morally correct one. Where do we go from here?

We have to re-frame the debate. If we can junk the distinction between communicating information and communicating artistic expression, then we can approach a photograph for what it is rather than what it should be. All graphic art should be judged on how well it expresses its subject matter, and nothing else. If the idea or story the artist meant to convey is successfully told, then the image succeeds. If not, well…time to practice some more.

This means that we all have to adjust to the idea that a photograph is an illusion, a representation, and not literal truth or reality. We as photographers need to do two things: educate the public by not pretending our photographs are ‘reality’ when they are not, and be permissive with each other to avoid that tendency of photographers to pretend they have only ‘manipulated’ their image to make it look ‘like what I saw’. Who cares? The viewer was not there with you when you snapped the shutter. She should be encouraged to engage with the image for its own sake rather than be called upon to compare your work with some objective realty. When we free up photography to be about expression, then this medium will really soar.

Darwin Wigget and I decided to write for each other’s blogs this month. We agreed on a topic, wrote our articles, and selected our images without even hinting to each other on how we were approaching the subject. I emailed him my article and ten images, he in turn did the same. This is his article-mine can be found on his blog. We are planning on working together on a single topic article every other month, so stay tuned. Our next posting will be at the beginning of August.

Some photographers seem to have an innate creativity; they view the world in a way that is novel and fresh and not contrived. Where does this creativity come from? Is it genetic? Or is it something we can buy in a bottle or from the local drug dealer? Why is it that some photographers are so clever with their vision while many of us just seem to produce the ‘same old, same old’ over and over again? Is there a magic pill or set of mental gymnastics that we can try to make us more creative, or is the answer something deeper? Here are my thoughts.

All the photographers and artists that I know who are extremely creative have a strong inner drive and motivating passion for what they do. They simply can’t help themselves—they are fueled to go! Galen Rowell has described this trait as the inner rat. The rat is a voracious creature residing in your gut that drives you out time after time to create new images. The rat is not stymied by suffering and leaving the comforts of home; in fact, it seems to grow stronger in the face of adversity. The rat propels nature and outdoor photographers to shoot at temperatures diving toward -40 degrees Celsius, to sit in blinds for 12 hours without food, and to make other people look at you and think you are mad. The rat makes you hang off cliffs, wade into alligator-infested waters, and sleep in a bivouac sac in a meadow full of hungry grizzly bears. In short, it is this inner, almost insane drive that seems like the predominant prerequisite to success as a creative being.

I believe we all have a hungry rat within us. Some people have a fat, satiated little rat that sits on the sofa with a TV remote and a bag of Cheetos while others have a gigantic, emaciated rat constantly looking for its next meal. The one factor that most suppresses the size of the rat is ego. The fear of being judged, rejected or ridiculed always keeps the inner rat tiny. The ‘fear to create’ is the biggest rat-trap of all. I see this situation a lot: people often have an inner drive to create yet are absolutely terrified to show the world their images. They are the lurkers on photo forums and the long time camera club members who never show their work. In short, their insecurities cage the rat and wither the rat’s desire. After awhile any creativity they have is lost in their insecurities.

On the opposite end of the spectrum are the ego maniacs. Here the photographer wants to show the world his photos, show how clever and amazing he is. The real reason the photographer shoots is for public recognition, for ‘atta boys’ and pats on the back. This kind of photographer often does have a voice of his own and a rat pushing him to create but the rat has learned to feed on the junk food of life–accolades. It has become a junkie needing a constant injection of adoration. These junkie rats force the photographer to constantly post on every possible photo forum where they hang on to each and every comment, aggressively countering any post that is anything but complimentary. Soon the work of such a photographer becomes repetitive and stale. The photographer constantly tries to repeat past successes and the accolade-aholic rat stifles any further creative growth. Without accolades the photographer loses his passion and therefore his creativity.

The truly creative photographers I know have a rat that drives them independent of their ego. These are self-confident people who create and are not afraid to share their works but also create for their own inner purposes and not for public adoration; they simply ‘shoot from the heart’ with little or no worries about how the outside world views their work. They are not arrogant about their work and processes and often are the people most willing to share their passion with others. Secrets have no place in their life-work. They shoot to please themselves and they create simply because they have to. And finally, they have learned to control the rat, they have learned balance and that life is richer than just their art and their expression. They let the rat lead when necessary but in the end are the master of the rodent.

In summary, I believe ego is the biggest stumbling block in being truly creative. We all have passion, we all have an inner rat, and we can all be driven when we feel a connection. It is simply the fear to create and the need for recognition that kills our creativity. The photographer who is confident in themselves, and who lets her inner vision thrive will be a photographer who has a big, creative rat. On the other hand, if you constantly worry what others will think of your work, how you will be perceived, or how famous you will become, then you will likely lose any creativity you had—you are destined to kill your inner rat. If you shoot simply to please yourself and to satisfy an inner desire without regard to how the world will view your work, then you are on the path to true creativity.