why film? part two

lomo lca+, 2013 

In part one of my investigation into my reasons for exclusively using film, I set up the questions surrounding my assumption that, generally speaking, film offers a closer representation of the real than digital technology. And there were a lot of questions, and a lot of contradictions. This surprised even me. It also led to a lot of introspective thought on my part, as I searched all the logic in my head to try to find answers. I've always known why I love film: its honesty. I just had to figure out why I so steadfastly believe that film and honesty are inextricably linked.

Before I go into my conclusions, I want to take a moment to explain why honesty in my photography is so important to me. Photography is, among other things, an art form. As such, creative people have long been pushing the medium - both with film and digital technologies - to produce wonderful, fantastical images that are very obviously not representations of reality. Some artists, such as Jeff Wall, employ meticulous staging and production techniques to challenge our very assumptions of truth in the image. All of these approaches to photography are valid. Many artists create brilliant, important work by presenting visual untruths.

In most of my work, however, I aim to capture actual truths. I mean this both in the journalistic sense, where my social and travel photography documents people and places as they exist at a moment in time, and in a more literal sense, where I aim to keep my (sometimes staged) portraits and press shots free of any post-production manipulation. It is the medium's ability to capture an image of reality, as Bazin discussed, that draws me to the camera again and again. And I think this implication of truth in the image, and particularly in photojournalism, is why we collectively feel so cheated when a journalistic image is exposed as a hoax, or even as a manipulated version of reality (such as the war photos of freelance photojournalist Adnan Hajj, which were revealed to be heavily doctored after being published globally via Reuters).

nikon f4, 2013 

But Greta, you might say, your multiple exposures don't represent truth! The world doesn't look like that! And you would be right in the sense that during the gig depicted in the above photo, for example, there were not two identical guitarists on the stage. However, in all my multiple exposures, each image within the frame is a representation of truth, and usually there is some 'real' connection between the exposures (for example, a person and the environment they're in, or, as above, the same person mere moments apart). Furthermore, the process of exposing such images - all within the camera, on film - is also keenly related to truth and authenticity. But more on that in part three.

Digital is just as capable of being honest with us as film is. There is no reason why a digital camera can't capture as much truth as a film camera can. And, as we have seen, film cameras (and film photos that have been digitally edited after the fact) are just as capable of telling untruths as digital cameras. So - back to the issue at hand - why do I (and others) more readily associate film with truth, and digital with deception? My reasoning can be separated into two distinct arguments: the psychological and the practical.

splitcam, 2013 

psychological factors

Most of us have grown up with scores of family photo albums. Those enormous tomes, with pages where the plastic sheets peel away to unleash faded prints laid over cut newspaper (lest they stick to the board), mapping out pieces of lives once lived. Some prints have rounded corners. Some are torn. Some have that strange textured surface, like a miniature grid. Maybe some are really old - cracked black and white wedding photos of great aunties, or baby portraits of Grandpa. There may be sepia, and dust marks or scratches. There may even be a few photos with strange multiple images because someone forgot to wind on the film. There will be dated fashions: long hair and crocheted bikinis of the seventies; smart hats and daytime gloves of the fifties; mullets and fluoro colours of the eighties. There are picnics, birthday parties (complete with Women's Weekly party cakes), camping trips, Christmas trees, grinning kids with missing teeth, dress-up days, first days of school, weddings, debutante balls, pregnant bellies, bassinets. All of these common events appear to create a distinct tapestry of life. Each family has a different history; each album is filled with an enormous array of stories unique to those lives.

But for all the myriad variations that exist from family to family and album to album, each of these exorbitantly heavy, dust-covered epics have something in common: when we look at the images within, we know that they are real. Mum did bake that swimming pool cake. Your sister did wear those fluoro leggings. Your grandpa was wearing a dress for his 1920s baby portrait. There was no Photoshopping when your parents got married in 1976. No-one airbrushed the pimples on your cousin's chin when he won that under-18s footy trophy in 1989. These photos show us life through the poor-quality lenses of our family's past.

diana, c. 2009 

holga, 2012 

holga, 2012 

It is for this reason that when we see the faded colours, the vignetting, the soft focus and/or the multiple exposures that are now synonymous with Lomography cameras and other analogue toy/plastic cameras, we feel that we can trust them more than, say, a glaringly flawless digital image. Whether it's conscious or not - and I suspect in most cases, it isn't - our attraction to analogue aesthetics is a rejection of the superficiality inherent in so much digital technology. We collectively crave a return to the real. I have no doubt that this accounts for the unprecedented popularity of Instagram - the retro aesthetic that the app employs combines with its primary function of taking 'instant' photos to present a modern-day version of the Polaroid; a real moment in time, captured in a few seconds and instantaneously broadcasted to the world, with no time for trickery (apart from the regimented filters, which in turn contribute to the psychological acceptance of truth in the image... get it?!).

nikon f4, 2013   

nikon f4, 2013 

nikon f4, cross-processed slide, 2011 

nikon f4, cross-processed slide, 2011 

To a lesser extent, the subtle analogue characteristics that are often present in 'professional' film cameras (such as high-end SLRs) function in the same way: the grain of a high-speed film, the complex saturation of a cross-processed slide film, the tiny specks of dust that attach to the negative during scanning, a carefully considered in-camera multiple exposure. Many of these things are sometimes considered to be imperfections, but to me, they are precisely the opposite; they are perfect because they denote the truth.

Coming up in part three: practical factors.

experimenting with some new gods

I've been progressively pushing the experimental aspects of my live photography lately. This is not to say that far-out, psychedelic effects are always better than a straightforward shot; that is most certainly untrue. But sometimes, they are as good, if not better. Sometimes, an experimental photo represents the music and/or the artist more closely than a traditional photo could.

I'm not sure if that is necessarily true of these shots of New Gods, which I took recently at Ding Dong Lounge in the city. I went there with the specific intention to try out some new techniques. This is partly because I thought New Gods - with their interesting instrumental work and sometimes erratic frontman - would suit a less conventional approach to live photography. It is also because I need to become more familiar with these effects, and hone my skills, so that in future I can make informed decisions as to which shooting mode will be more effective - and so I will have a reasonable idea of what the results of this unconventional style will look like.

I think the photo at the top of the post captures something of the band and the performance more effectively than the second two. Even though none of these three communicate movement, which is something that I generally love in live shots, the top image is somehow more evocative - all the pretty lights dominating the top third of the frame, the gorgeous lighting on Richard's face (left), and the fact that Dominic is still the focus, but in a more subtle and collaborative way. A talented songwriter backed by a devoted unit of musicians, perhaps. There's something very intimate about the shot, which I think comes from its composition. It evokes warmth (camaraderie, perhaps?), and a richness of sound that seems apt for the music, whereas the other two deceptively sparse.

Again this one feels quite sparse, and I don't think it's a great representation of the band. But it is an interesting effect, and in trials like these, interesting is all I ask for.

I actually really like this, and I think it's because of the strange, out-of-focus exposure of Dominic (the yellow figure), which again adds warmth to the image. Together with the lights, it creates a lovely atmosphere - almost dreamlike. I also like that Sam is in it - which is rare, because thanks to stage position and poor lighting, drummers are frustratingly difficult to include in live shots. However, the shot doesn't include Richard, so it's not an image of the whole band.

That movement I was talking about?

This technique is very new to me, albeit a pretty organic extension of my multiple exposure work. It's not a perfect image by any means, but with its chaos leading to an emotive cry from Dominic at the far right of the frame, it contains a lot of promise. This technique is one that needs a lot more practice - and one that will definitely be getting it.

(PS: Part Two of my investigation into film vs digital is well underway, and should appear in the coming week. I just wanted to give some photo love to the internet in the interim.)

musical bits and pieces

For better or worse, music has been preoccupying my lenses of late. I have some very specific music- and non-music-related projects coming up, but before I get to that stuff, here is a relatively arbitrary collection of images from various music-themed shoots/events.

In my last post, I wrote about the recent shoot I did with a singer/songwriter. It was a wonderfully successful day, and in good time the final images will show up here in all their glory. Until then, I'm choosing to display a few nondescript shots. This one wasn't planned; I was walking down to the backyard to shoot from a low angle and I noticed his hand resting on the railing. I know it's quite a plain image, but there's something about it that I love. I think perhaps it's because the formality of the black-jacket-white-shirt sleeve contrasted with the relaxed state of the hand intrigues me. The gumtrees and the old verandah railing are also very Australian, and that's always nice.

I'd never heard of Immigrant Union before going to see them play, but I always like the challenge of shooting something or someone I'm unfamiliar with. Unlike bands such as Money for Rope, Royal Headache and Saskwatch, all of whom I love and whose songs I am extremely familiar with, shooting an act unknown to me means that I have to make decisions in the moment, with no forethought or preparation. I'd loaded black and white film just before the performance and I immediately regretted it when the smoke machine came out and the colours came alive through the haze. While colour film would definitely have been interesting, though, the smokiness still makes the lighting more dramatic with this black and white film (in the second shot), and I think that the first shot would look less appealing in colour. I still would have preferred colour for the night, but I guess what I'm saying is, there were a few interesting results regardless.

As incredible as the action on the stage can be, the audience can be pretty appealing too. Both of these shots were taken at a small music festival in South Gippsland. There was a very convivial atmosphere throughout the crowd, and the festival in general, and the lighting from the stage was giving all the happy faces such lovely colours. The first shot is slightly out of focus, but the softness is in keeping with the cloud-covered moon. While technically this is significantly flawed, it has a special feeling to it, and I love the deep blue of the night sky against the magenta of the stage-bathed crowd. There's not a whole lot to say about the second shot here - it's just really cute.

There'll be more coherent thoughts and collections from me soon, but I think that taking some time to pick out a few photos that maybe don't fit in with them is a great thing to do. Because they're interesting at least, lovely (or cute) at best, and I don't want them to get lost in the depths of the photo library and be forgotten.

ordinary

Contrary to the title of this post, I think these images, and the things within them, are anything but. I'm aware that it's potentially a bit redundant to say that there is beauty in the ordinary; it's been said and demonstrated a million times (including a few times on this blog). But I'm also aware that so much of my output lately is of overtly extraordinary content - live shows, newborn babies, weddings - so I felt it would be a good idea to balance that with some everyday visual observations.

This first image, for example, is of perhaps the least ordinary person in the whole world: my mum. But the wooden deck, the cute deckchair cover and the comfy slippers encapsulate her typical Sunday morning, and perhaps speak to many of our typical weekends: comfort, modesty, relaxation. Certainly sitting out on the deck in a dressing gown sums up a lot of the time I spend at my parents' place, so this image is absolutely a representation of the everyday for me, in that context. It's a beautiful image, though, both because of how much I treasure the person and the activity within, and for its aesthetic simplicity. The natural tones, the composition, the lines of the planks, the slight vignetting thanks to my new LC-A+: it all works, and so visually and otherwise this is a wholly successful photo.

I recently did a solo shoot with a singer/songwriter which went for quite a few hours. We were shooting at his house and we were going about it in a pretty leisurely fashion, so much so that he decided to take a break to cook lunch. He was happy for me to shoot during lunch and the kitchen had beautiful natural light, so I got in close for a few aspects of the process. Heating oil in a pan, chopping tomatoes; an old stove, 1970s tiles, Keen's Mustard Powder on the shelf: we all know this. They are pieces of our collective everyday, and as such they simultaneously mean the same to all of us, and evoke a unique set of memories or meanings for each of us. I adore these photos, and especially the tomatoes shot, with its stunning window lighting.

More everyday - this time, an early afternoon in a place that exists on the cusp of urban and suburban, authentic and gentrified. A cafe - and it could be one of hundreds that scatter the suburbs surrounding inner-city Melbourne - with some gorgeous light streaming in; and a decidedly suburban car wash - a blue man against a brilliant blue sky. What is especially fascinating about the second shot is that the sign's 'shadow' makes it appear as though the sky is a fake - a backdrop to some kind of surreal theatre set. The strange markings that have appeared on the negative enhance this odd effect.

These are all photos of ordinary, day-in-the-life objects and occurrences. But there's a reason that images such as these are perennially appealing, and hold a special place in many hearts. Though the subjects are ordinary, they make up the bulk of our experiences. As such, I don't think they can be dismissed or discounted in any way.

more from the beautiful wedding of sarah and creg (aka craig)

I recently posted ten unconventional wedding portraits from the wedding of my friends Sarah and Creg (I just can't bring myself to call him Craig, though for the record that is his name). Some of those images are pretty out there in terms of capturing something that is in fact really traditional. But I did actually take a lot of more photos, many of which are much closer to 'wedding photos' (but I still like to think they have something of a unique flavour). While I adore the oddball shots I posted last time, I wanted to share some of the others from the day, because the day was, and the photos are, very beautiful.

It's a special thing to be around when a group of really close girls prepare to send one of their own down the aisle, into a new chapter in life. There are so many quietly touching moments, whether it's the bride putting her shoes on, or drawing a diagram of the altar set-up.

These two shots are particularly gorgeous. Sarah looks so radiant interacting with her flower girl (and now niece). And the second shot shows Sarah embracing her mother for the last time as an unmarried person. In addition to depicting a lovely moment, I think the natural, warm colour tones make this photo pretty special.

I was staying at the same house as Creg the night before the wedding, and when I got up the morning of, I found the kitchen of this normally very busy household empty and exceptionally quiet. Except for him. Sitting at the computer, writing his vows. I just had to take the shot.

And then it happened! They got married. What a stunning couple.

The chapel and reception venue were on a hill that overlooked a beach sunset, which made for some excellent photo opportunities. The whole thing was very modest, in a perfect, charming way.

This is Creg and his best mate and best man, Andrew. Such a lovely photo. If you look closely, it's kind of out of focus. But I don't think it detracts from the image. In fact, it adds a lovely softness to it that almost suits the golden glow that the setting sun is bathing them with.

Then it came to one of favourite parts of weddings, in terms of both photographing them and partaking: the party. It's always a good time to get uninhibited shots of the guests, leading to some gorgeous, vibrant photos. The last one, of the groom and his men, is one of my highlights from this part of the event. It was late, everyone had had a big day and a few drinks. It's fitting, then, that there are closed eyes, funny faces and selective blurring. But it's still so beautiful because it captures the closeness, and the connection (or mateship), that obviously exists between these guys. And even though weddings are about two people making the ultimate connection, they are also, crucially, about celebrating the important connections you share with everyone in your life. And judging by the day they had, Sarah and Creg have many very special ones.