Is it normal?
Seeing beauty in the everyday
Many photographs have an immediacy, but their value lies in being a part of a broader collection that have a sort of timelessness
Ihad an old friend, Romano Cagnoni, one of the great photographers in the documentary and humanist tradition. Time after time he put himself in difficult combat situations, that went all the way from Biafra, Nigeria, in the late 1960s to Grozny, Russia, in the First Chechen War in 1995. He had stories, a cover for Life magazine and, indeed, all the great picture magazines of the time. Yet he didn’t see himself as a combat photographer. As he said, “I would like to make it clear: I do not consider myself a war photographer, rather a photographer who knows what war means and how to document it.”
Most of the memorable photographs from conflict are dramatic, of course, but there are also those that go quieter and deeper. David Douglas Duncan’s photograph of US Marine Captain Francis ‘Ike’ Fenton in Korea, 1950, and Don Mccullin’s Shell-shocked US marine, Hue, Vietnam, February 1968, both immediately come to mind. Both are also typically held up as examples of the infamous thousand-yard stare – the unfocused gaze that came from emotionless detachment after combat.
Seeking out the everyday
Romano looked for moments of significance in people’s lives, and for him, the best pictures of people had a more universal significance, though he didn’t use that particular word. “Death is significant. Absurdity, love, loneliness and so on are significant.”
His successes were pictures that had more to them than the specific incident – they could be understood by many people. Naturally, conflict offered situations in which people behave differently, without putting on a particular persona. “To photograph world events allowed me to be present in situations where people are obliged to reveal themselves.” That was entirely the point for Romano. Google him and you’ll see what I mean.
Many photographs have an immediacy, but their value lies in being a part of a broader collection of pictures that have a sort of timelessness to them. They deal with behaviour and emotions that we can all understand and relate to in some way, shape, or form. For want of a better word, they’re generic. Few of us seek out extreme situations in the same way that Romano might, but what remains open and available in everyday life is the possibility of the generic – the less specific.
The beach
But then, the question is: what counts as a moment of behaviour, or feeling, that suggests significance? Romano mentioned absurdity, love, loneliness, and I’d add warmth, happiness, wonder,
thoughtfulness, reflection, and a few more. If you’re trying for one of these, or the opportunity presents itself, simplicity helps. Simplicity of composition in particular.
That’s not a rule, but generally, the less you have in the frame, the more focused the viewer’s attention will be. And, perhaps not so obviously, if you don’t see your subject’s face, or at least not clearly, the more the viewer can imagine. In this case, the play of light on these waves, around about sunset, caught my eye. But it wasn’t enough by itself, and I looked around for a figure. Fortunately, this young girl appeared, playing on the shoreline. As a basic shot it was pleasant, but I stayed with it for a few minutes, hoping for something expressive.
From this angle in this light, she’s almost in silhouette, so it’s all about body movements. For almost the entire time, as you see from the strip of shots, she was playing as anyone would. Except for just one moment, the main picture here, when she briefly stood in this position, leaning slightly forward into the wind, looking down, weight slightly on one leg. To me, this stance made the difference.
Whatever she was or wasn’t thinking, from the camera and to my mind there’s a sense of possibility. Yes, of course you can read anything you like into a picture like this, and probably read too much, but that’s the point. Less specific and less obvious usually means more generic.