Ask Brooks

The Engineer and the Creative

How do you resolve the conflict of the Engineer vs. the Creative? Do you even have it? I struggle with it constantly. I am the epitome of the "too much analysis leads to paralysis" syndrome. I find myself too worried about the technicalities of a shot, be it gear or technique, to the point that I feel it seriously blocks my creativity.

— Andy Garcia

Your question is couched in the language of technique (or technology) compared to the creative muse, but your use of the word paralysis makes me wonder if you might be describing a touch of perfectionism. This is a true paradox for all of us involved in the creative life. We create not just to be productive, but rather to be productive in a certain sort of way. We strive for excellence. For many art makers, it is the pursuit of perfection that drives us. And that's where a potential field of quicksand awaits.

Perfection is a worthy goal. It's opposite is sloth and production with a careless attitude. Even if we aren't aiming for perfection, we are certainly not aiming for sloppiness. So, we set goals and targets out of our reach — on purpose. We push ourselves and our materials to create things that are, by definition, difficult. We equate success in our art life with the achievement of perfection — or at least coming damn close. By itself, there is nothing wrong with this, except . . .

The fear of failure. The engineer in us — I suspect a very strong component of many photographers — then wants to test the thousand on one variables in the process so as to eliminate any flaws. We want control. We lust after precision and predictability. And, if we are not careful, we are sucked down that quicksand in pursuit of the impossible. (There is a story of Ansel Adams deflating a student's perfectionism by remarking, "It's the Zone System, not the Pinpoint System.")

This all fits too nicely with the only practical outcome of obsessive perfectionism — and that's procrastination. Perfectionists want perfection and will tend to interpret criticism (self-inflicted or otherwise) as a failure to reach perfection. Of course, the one sure and infallible way of never falling short of one's goal is to never finish (or start) the work. Procrastination becomes a perverse form of survival. I've often seen this in a workshop scenario where a student puts up work while deflecting any comment upon it with the excuse that it's not yet finished. This is a handy game that allows any challenge to one's creativity to be deflected by the engineer who is "still working on it." It takes courage to say, "It is done" precisely because nothing can be done perfectly. (Remember the words of Goethe, "Boldness has genius in it.")

Back to your question — the engineer is a handy persona for figuring out stuff. We all need to wear that hat from time to time. But, the engineer is also a very handy tool for the procrastinator. There are always more tests that could be run before the artwork is engaged. Always.

Being an artist is a battle of epic proportions played out on a personal gridiron. Perfectionism versus the pursuit of excellence. The procrastinator versus our creative drive. Self-doubt versus self-realization. The drive to create must engage the forces that resist creation, even if these forces are self-imposed or even subconscious. Balance between the (necessary) engineer and the creative self is difficult to maintain, but it is one of the core challenges of being an artist — at least a product and perhaps even satisfied one.

For me, the release from perfectionism came when I realized that art making is a process, not a destination. The artifact is a by-product of the process. If today's product can be improved, that's acceptable when one realizes that learning, progressing, moving, changing, improving, and growing are all part of the artist's path. This goes hand in hand with letting go of the products we've created. But, that's another topic for another day.

Hope these thoughts at least offer something to ponder.

Bill Jay

The death of Bill Jay left a gaping hole in both photography and humor. I dearly miss reading his EndNotes, which was the first thing I would read in each issue of LensWork. He was one of a kind and, I am sure, irreplaceable. Are there any plans to try and find another writer of similar humor and insight? Or would that be an exercise in futility?

— Chuck

Bill was one of a kind. He is irreplaceable. I am convinced it would be exceedingly unkind of me to ask anyone else to "take over Bill's slot" and try to write EndNotes in his stead. The inevitable comparisons would simply not be fair. No one alive has Bill's knowledge, experience, and wit — all combined into one irascible pen. I would suggest the way to replace Bill is to go back and reread him.

You are not alone. Believe me, there are more photographers than you would guess who miss him dearly.

Darkroom Tours

It has been a while since you had a darkroom visit in LensWork Extended. Will there be any coming up this year?

 — Robert Armstrong

We are working to include more videos of all kinds in LensWork Extended. This is part of our conversion to Acrobat 9 and flash videos.

As to darkroom tours specifically, yes. As yet, we've not recorded any more, but we do have a couple of photographers who've agreed to allow us to do it. It's now just a matter of scheduling the time and doing the recording.

BTW, another part of this discussion for us is the logistics of production. All the darkroom tour videos you've seen in previous LensWork Extended issues (except Mark Griffith) were all shot using Mini DV tapes. What a pain. Slow, difficult, finicky, expensive, and giant files sizes — not uncommonly 7-8 gigabytes in a single file. Yikes.

As the technology has continued to evolve, I've been hotly following the use of still cameras that have a video mode. They are really starting to come into their own — at least for the sort of casual videos we produce. I was simply amazed at the quality of the HD (1280x720 AVCHD) progressive scan videos that come from my new Panasonic DMC-ZS3 camera — a pocketable camera I used for snapshots and video in Asia last fall. I researched this class of small cameras and this one seemed like the winner of the group — and it's proven itself worthy of the positive reviews it received. When I've use footage from this camera to make 720x405 videos for viewing on the computer, they are simply flawless. Amazing.

We actually did a number of video interviews in the last couple of years using Canon PowerShot Pro S5 IS digital cameras. For computer resolution videos (640x480) they worked great! We selected this model because it allow us to lock focus and exposure manually — a very necessary feature for top quality videos. We even did three-camera shoots (like the pros) using three different cameras recording simultaneously and then mixing them in Premiere Pro. If you saw our interviews with Rosanne Olson or Bruce Barnbaum (#75), or Jim Laurence (#76), you've seen this three-camera technique with the Canon cameras. All the live videos in our Folios Workshop were recorded with these cameras.

As our skills have improved and as the cameras have evolved, video has become more and more practical for us. So, look for more video content, including more darkroom tours, in upcoming issues of LensWork Extended.

Confidence

You know how we all go through those ups and downs of confidence in the quality of our images? Is some way to tell how we are doing? Am I improving? I have low confidence right now and find myself wondering if there is some way to gauge progress or level of ability? Is critique the answer? Or maybe trying not to care about how I think others perceive my images?… perhaps in between? I am not sure.

At the end of the day I think what I am struggling with is the age old question, "Am I any good?" How do you deal with that question, is it a bad question?

— Tony

I guess my first reaction is to ask, What difference does it make? If you are not good, the prescription is to do more work. If you are good, the implication is that you should do more work.

Let me try an analogy. I've learned how to speak the English language, at least as well as most, not as well as some. I use language every day, but when I order a meal at a restaurant, or write a blog, or talk with my grandson, it's not a competition as to whether or not I use language better than someone else. I speak to communicate. I speak to connect with another human in some way. I listen to their use of language in order to understand them. The same could be said of photography — particularly when we think of photography as another form of communication and connection between people.

Having said that, however, it is true that language (insert photography here, too) has nuance and subtlety. I take my use of language seriously, so I try as best I can to use it effectively. The more I can improve my understanding and use of language, the better I can make myself understood and in turn understand others. So, I study the use of language. I read; I listen; I experiment; I edit my writing ruthlessly. I revisit old themes to attempt improvements with the new skills I've learned. I revisit my old work to see how I would do it differently today. I observe how people react to my words and use their reactions as feedback on what I've produced. I know how I hope they react. If their reactions were not as I expected, I try to understand why and how I might change my work to make it communicate more harmoniously with my intentions.

Re-read that last paragraph and you'll see there is a process involved. It's a process without end. It's a process with infinite capacity for learning and improvement. It's a process that pursues excellence through the process itself. That is precisely what art is, at least for me — a process to be engaged. It's a way of life. In my way of thinking, it is more important to engage the process than to consider the production of artwork as a means to succeed in some other measure — like popularity. Fame and success might be a handy by-product, but they are not the reason to be an artist.

So, I would suggest that confidence — since that's what you asked about — is not a measure based on someone else's opinions of your results but rather a measure of how well you are connected to the process.

Hope this helps.

Color work in LensWork

Does LensWork ever publish works in color or just pure black & white. If not, I would be interested in the rationale. Thanks.

—Ron

Actually, we do publish color work — in LensWork Extended. I cringe every time we get this question because it's an indictment about how poorly we are communicating what LensWork Extended is. We've got to do a better job of this.

As to the magazine, you're correct. We've considered it from time to time, but our audience influences our thinking as much as anything. LensWork was started and built as a publication for b/w work only and its audience is primarily photographers who work in b/w. I suspect this is because so many of them, like me, were so dedicated to the personal darkroom. Until the digital workflow entered the photographic world, a "personal darkroom" almost always implied b/w work because color was such a difficult (and expensive) thing to do well in a corner of the basement. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s in all the workshops I attended, I doubt I saw more than a half a dozen color portfolios. And of course, for many of us, the great masters of the tradition of fine art photography were all b/w photographers with few exceptions. So, momentum is the short answer.

Then there is the point of view that b/w photography offers more room for creativity than color does. This is open to debate, I know, but I tend agree.

But, the real reason? I'm a b/w guy and always have been. It's my first love. And LensWork is my baby, so I guess I get to do what I want — and then just hope enough other folks appreciate it that I can keep doing it.

I must, however, acknowledge that times are changing. Since most photographers now shoot digitally, they shoot natively in color. Their digital files are in color, so their workflow starts in color. Unlike the old darkroom days where b/w was natural and easy and color was the challenge that required extra effort, now the digital image is color by default and it takes extra effort to make the b/w print! A complete reversal of a century-old paradigm. I'm seeing more and more color work in our submissions. Indeed, I just announced my first personal work that is in color. (Gasp!) With this growing trend, we could add color to LensWork, but I'm hesitant. And, because we can publish color work in LensWork Extended, we're not ignoring color work, but rather just have a place for it where it fits very naturally.

Photo Anthologies

What are your all-time favorite photography books that contain images by more than one photographer?

— Sue

This cannot fail to sound tacky, but LensWork is right up there in my list. :-)

Here are a few from our library that have been sources of inspiration:

• The Photographer's Eye by John Szarkowski
• Body: Photographs of the Human Form by William A. Ewing
• The Great Life Photographers
• The Polaroid Book by Barbara Hitchcock
• The Photography Book by the Editors of Phaidon

     

And then there are the histories of photography, too …

• A New History of Photography by Michel Frizot
• A World History of Photography by Naomi Rosenblum
• The History of Photography by Beaumont Newhall

     

Anthologies in photography are somewhat rare birds. You'd think there would be lots of them, but there aren't. Monographs exists by the shipload, but for reasons I suspect have to do with copyright laws and other non-art issues, anthologies are just not as common.

This list is certainly missing some good ones. Anyone else care to add to my suggestions?

Photoshop for creating folio layouts

I want to try and print text page/s and make a folio. I cannot afford to buy InDesign nor do I wish to learn a new program for a single task such as this. Is it possible to explain how best to set it up and to do it in Photoshop with it's text tool. Perhaps a Photoshop template?

— Frank

Actually, I cover both Photoshop and InDesign as tools to create folio layouts in our Folios Visual Workshop on disc.

Although Photoshop can be used, its text tools are primitive compared to InDesign. When I have a choice, I always use InDesign — but that's not a choice unless you have it! So, with this in mind, Photoshop is an alternative and can do the job, just not as easily. As far as that goes, you could also use Microsoft Word, Works, Publisher, QuarkXpress, PaintShop Pro, or almost any other program that allows you to add text and image to a layout. Heck, in theory you could use Powerpoint!

And, don't overlook the non-computer methods. In LensWork and LensWork Extended #59 we published a portfolio of work by Carol Golemboski in which she used hand-written and drawn graphics on acetate sheets to add graphic elements to her photographs. She placed the acetate on top of the gelatin silver paper and then projected her negative through the acetate onto the paper with her enlarger. It worked well. This method could easily be adapted to add text, graphics, or even simple crop marks to a wet darkroom print, either gelatin silver or platinum/palladium, for example.

Just because you don't have InDesign, that shouldn't be an impediment to your creativity. I use InDesign because it's a great tool and I own it. It's certainly not the only game in town.

Audio books

I understand you are an avid reader and also an audio recording enthusiast. What is your view on reading a book versus "listening" to a book in an audio format? I recently subscribed to a popular audio book service and love the ability to "read" (listen?) to books while I drive or workout etc. I often wonder though what are the tradeoffs of listening vs actually sitting down and reading the book. Does one miss the essence of the book? Is listening "equivalent" to reading a book? Would love to "hear" (read?) your thoughts on this.

— Paulo

I've often thought that the core idea in artwork — the very root of the matter — is to use the senses to stimulate our imagination. We look with our eyes at the Sistine Chapel paintings by Michelangelo and our imagination springs to life as we see in our minds eye all those things that are not included in the pigments on the walls.

The same with photography. When I look at W. Eugene Smith's famous image Tomoko Uemura in Her Bath" (1971), our imagination can see more of her suffering from mercury poisoning than just her bathing.

From the senses to the mind, that is the key.

With different people, the senses/mind link works differently. My genetics are such that there is a very strong connection between ear and brain — I am an "audio person." My wife is not. Where I love listening to audio books, podcasts, lectures, etc., she cannot. Aural input does not stimulate her imagination the way it does mine. On the other hand, she is an incredible talent in the kitchen with finely tuned taste buds. She'll often say, "Taste this — is there enough cumin?" I just blink and stare with a blank face. (What the hell is cumin?)

From senses to mind also implies — at least for me — that greater possibilities open up when more than one sense is involved. I love listening to music while I look at photographs. I love listening to the photographer speak about their work while I look at it — hence so much emphasis on audio interviews in LensWork Extended. I love feeling the paper print as I look at original photographs in the folio format.

Similarly, the best of all reading experiences for me is listening to a talented reader while simultaneously reading along in the text. This dual input activity brings the book to life in ways that either experience by themselves does not. Reading gives me a sense of the author's written text — the use of paragraphs, punctuation, dialect, vocabulary. Listening while reading adds inflection, intonation, pace and timing, and — with the best readers — character identity via voice interpretation.

If forced to choose one over another, I'd choose listening to a talented reader over reading myself. I'd choose reading myself over a bad audio reader. The most thrilling is a theatrical reader, with good material, and my eyes following along the written text while holding a finely-bound, old volume. Add chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk and you've an hour or two that can't be beat.

DPI for submissions

I am preparing a submission to LensWork. The portfolio submission guidelines indicate a pixel width or height size. I did not see a dpi size. Do you prefer 72dpi, 240 dpi, or 300 dpi?

— Michael

This is a common question and needs some clarification.

First, the term dpi is "dots per inch. " This is a hold-over term from offset printing days which refers to the dot density in a half-tone images, like in the newspaper. Lay down a ruler and count the number of dots in an inch; no more sophisticated than that. In recent years, this has fallen out of favor for computer images for a more up-to-date term, PPI which is an acronym for "pixels per inch."

Both of them are meaningless in some regards.

The PPI is not really a measurement of the resolution of an image, but rather the density of pixels when spread over a given linear space. Output devices require a sufficient density of pixels for their needs. Greater density is discarded to no advantage; lesser density will result in a compromise in image quality — often called "pixelization," a blockiness to the edges and smooth tones.

Inkjet printers typically require a pixel density of around 300 pixels-per-inch, give or take a little. Most people use somewhere between 240ppi and 360ppi; there is some debate about the optimum.

The resolution of most monitors is 96ppi, older ones as low as 72ppi.

We produce two different publications with the images that are accepted for publication.

• LensWork (our print edition) is printed on an offset printer that requires 400ppi for the best reproductions. Because of the page size, the largest images can be as wide as 5.5" or as tall as 7". A little math will show that a landscape orientation image must have at least 2200 pixels horizontally or we won't be able to provide the necessary pixel density. Portrait orientation images must have at least 2800 pixels vertically. Hence our submissions guidelines specify these as the minimum dimensions — 2200 pixels wide or 2800 pixels tall, depending on the orientation of the image. More than 2200 pixels in width or more than 2800 pixels in height is not a problem, but not needed for our use. Fewer pixels in either dimension mean we run the risk of compromising image quality on the press.
• LensWork Extended (our multimedia edition on computer disc) requires 96ppi for display purposes, but we produce it at 200ppi so readers can zoom in on the details of an image without pixelization. This also accommodates large monitors and HDTV presentations. Based on the size of the InDesign layouts we use to create LensWork Extended, we need images that are at least 2222 pixels wide or at last 1666 pixels tall. This is within the parameters of the print dimensions we need for LensWork, so the 2200x2800 pixel images in LensWork will reproduce beautifully in LensWork Extended, too. In essence, we simply resample the images to the required pixel density — PPI — as needed for each publication.

So, it makes no difference to us whether you provide 10 PPI or 10,000 PPI images as long as they are at least 2200 pixels wide or not less than 2800 pixels tall. We'll arrange the pixel density as needed for each use.

For your own use, the PPI can make a difference in this regard: Placing images into some other software application, e.g., InDesign, will cause the receiving application to size the image base on the PPI specifications in the image file. Drop a 2200x2800 image set to 72 PPI into InDesign and the image will be huge. Change the image (in Photoshop, for example) to be a 2200x2800 image at 5000 PPI and the image place in InDesign will be tiny. Both images will be 2200x2800 pixels, they'll just render in your layout at different sizes based on the PPI specification. You can, of course, resize either of these images inside InDesign and as long as the final pixel density meets your output requirements there is no functional difference between the 72ppi and the 5000ppi image in the output from InDesign. The only thing that counts is the final output pixel density — which is a function of the available total number of pixels in the originating file and the output size in the InDesign layout.

Whew! Make sense?

G1 and Legacy Lenses; Next Camera

After much researching and considerable vacillating re: the pros and cons of the various, smaller digital cameras available, I purchased Panasonic's Lumix G1. I know you own this camera and have extolled it's virtues, especially it's fine quality lenses. Have you any experience with using any legacy 35mm lenses via one of the adapters that are available for this camera? If so, please share your experiences with using such lenses. And, what do you think your next digital camera might be?

— Marty Knapp

   

I haven't used any of the adapters with legacy lenses, so I can't offer any testimonials one way or the other. I like the theory, but without hands-on experience, I'm not qualified to comment. Can anyone else comment on their experiences and help Marty out?

As to my next camera, I can say this: I do not change camera systems lightly. For 20 years I used the same Arca Swiss monorail. It took me months of analysis to let go of it. Once I am comfortable with a set of tools, I tend to stick with them. Quite honestly, I'd much rather be photographing and doing my artwork than researching a new camera, testing lenses, et al. So, it's a big commitment for me to change camera systems and I dread it. The Panasonic G1 does what I need it to do. Unless I radically change my image making needs, I'll probably just stay with this setup until it dies.

But, you might say, what if technology forges ahead and some newer model has lots of yippy-skippy new features? Oh, there is no doubt that this will happen. However, new features probably won't influence me. I reverse engineer my camera needs, so new features aren't persuasive; new artistic vision and sometimes a new type of photography project will be a greater motivation for me than new buttons.

I should note that the G1 system is my seventh camera system in four years. I'm ready for the pace to slow down. Why so many? With each step along the way, the new camera gave me better images than the previous generation. This mostly had to do with improved sensors and more pixels as digital technology crept closer to film standards. With each step along the way, I felt the move to a new system more closely approximated what I could do with film. However, for me anyway, the curve has flattened and for the prints I make, I don't think I would see any improvement in image quality with additional pixels or sensor improvements. I think we've arrived. We'll see.

I remember when office printers progressed from daisy-wheel to 9-pin dot matrix to 24-pin dot matrix to 300dpi Laserjets and finally to 600dpi Laserjets. Wow, what an improvement! But, have you noticed that once the technology reached 600dpi, it had reached a plateau and didn't progress much beyond that. Sure, there are some 1200dpi Laserjet printers, but for 99% of us, 600dpi was enough — and enough was as good as a feast.

In my younger years, I observed the same thing with audio gear. Early stereos in the 1970s had an ear-assaulting 5% THD (total harmonic distortion), which improved with time to 1%, then 0.5%, then 0.002% and then THD disappeared from the audio scene. Once the threshold of human perception was reached, manufacturers stopped touting tech measurements. It ceased to be persuasive that one stereo had 0.002% THD and another had 0.001% THD; no one could hear the difference. Manufactures started stressing convenience factors. In stereos, we saw remote controls, 5-step EQ features, multiple CD disc changers, etc. Use issues started to trump raw technology improvements.

In computers, the CPU clock-speed race similarly has peaked. Now all the news is about lightweight netbooks, the iPad, bigger monitors, surround-sound audio systems, and video capabilities. The differences between a 2.8GHz and a 3.1GHz CPU are lost on most end-users.

Similarly in cameras, I believe we are at — or close to — the technological threshold of human perception. Do we really need more than 25 megapixels? Do we even need that many? Sure, some photographers do, some specialty needs do. But for a lot of us, all that extra data is just filling up our hard drives without making better photographs. Rather than see dramatic increases in pixel counts, I suspect we'll start to see more and more creature comfort features. What will these be? I don't know, but the ease-of-use issues will start to be pushed more than image quality improvement issues. I'd bet big money on this.