Interesting quote from Ansel Adams

[Len Philpot]

I bought a used copy of Examples -- The Making of 40 Photographs (1983, by Ansel Adams) which arrived just today. It initially looked like an interesting book and sure enough, not even one full page into Adams' introduction (never mind the images just yet) did he say something that resonates strongly with me.

That resonance may seem a little strange if I mention my university degree was in Fine Arts. Admittedly -- Graphic design was my emphasis, not photography, but I took a couple of photo courses among others more than forty years ago. It was a general arts degree, not just graphic design. The school isn't a prestigious art institute but rather a smaller public liberal arts university in northeast Louisiana. Later, after working in graphic design for sixteen years, I made a hard turn into IT at age 38 where I spent the balance of my forty-year career. (That change was a very practical one, by the way.)

But still, I identify with the arts in general and I get it. Although I do tend to be a bit analytical at times (to the bemusement of many of my fellow students and faculty -- "An analytical artist??"), being analytical doesn't preclude feelings nor sensitivity. I understand and value artistic expression.

But I digress.

Anyway... here's the quote (emphasis mine):

Absent from these pages are statements of what the photographs "mean". I cannot, and will not, attempt to describe, analyze, or define the creative-emotional motivation of my work, or the work of others. Description of the inspiration or the meaning of a work of photography, or of any other medium of art, lies in the work itself. The endless discussions of creativity appear to me to be pointless intellectual carousels; their purpose seems more the presenting of burnt offerings and worshiping of modish identifications than the achieving of mutual enlightenment. I hope that my creative and technical standards are supported in this book more through my images than through my dissertations.

I have to say I can particularly identify with Adams' reaction to the discussions of creativity and meaning in art, even if I honestly can't identify with his artistic capabilities -- If indeed that even needs to be pointed out.

Just thought it was interesting.

 

[Stevenson Gawen]

Interesting indeed. I'm still thinking about it...
Thanks for sharing!

 

[Rob MacKillop]

I often see connections that surprise others with more analytical minds, but I know they are just flights of fancy on my part, like an enjoyable game. I’m one of the least technical photographers I know, and work on feel, and have far more misses than hits, far more. I love a lot of Adams’s photographs, and have the same book you quote from, Len, and really admire his mastery of exposure, and of course the landscapes he chooses are stunning. But I don’t find myself seeing connections that I find in other photographers’ work, and I’m tempted to say that Adams’s work possibly lacks psychological depth, something that might trigger the flights of fancy I mentioned above. What I miss is that uneasy yet interesting sensation you get when you read say Emily Dickinson or William Carlos Williams, poets who say one thing clearly, yet are actually talking about something else, something more nuanced. Look at a portrait by Rembrandt…all the technique and ‘exposure’ is perfection, yet you know he is really relating a deep story of human frailty, something even beyond or beneath thought. That unease engages me more. I’d go as far to say it is more human.

 

[Len Philpot]

But I don’t find myself seeing connections that I find in other photographers’ work, and I’m tempted to say that Adams’s work possibly lacks psychological depth, something that might trigger the flights of fancy I mentioned above.

In general I can't disagree too much on the 'detached' nature of his work. I wonder, though, if that's inherent to landscapes, maybe? Or at least, inanimate subject matter in general. In my mind landscapes are largely unidirectional, as it were. The landscape talks to the viewer, not the reverse. The viewer is totally subsumed by the landscape. The connection happens within the psyche of the viewer, which will vary by viewer. For example the first image in the book (Monolith, the face of Half Dome) is incredibly powerful to me. He couldn't have picked a better first image for the book.

However to my eyes, he sometimes shot people as if they were landscapes. Quite often the shots are full of DOF, lots of detail, precise focus, direct eye contact and careful arrangement. Quite different, e.g., from the decisive moment of Cartier-Bresson. No better nor worse I guess, just different.

Still, I like craft and virtuosity. They have value both practical and aesthetic, but they're only part of the story. Alone they're empty, no matter how (legitimately) fascinating they may be for a while. Ultimately there needs to be a connection more than (just) the intellectual. But it's all part of the overall experience. As an example, I find in fascinating to carefully examine the details of a hyper-photorealistic painting (such as the one of reflections in a city street-side store window, I forget the artist's name, maybe Michael <something>?), but in the end Munch's The Scream has more visceral power to move me. Kind of like some classical music vs. King Crimson. Craft and virtuosity are tools, means to an end -- Not the end in themselves.

Semi-related side-note here, but I think that may be related to why I'm not a huge jazz fan. I admire it and recognize not only the art but also the technical achievements of jazz, but in the end I respect it much more than I actually like it. I enjoy structure, so (e.g.) a twelve minute song comprised of two minutes of intro, head and outro, but otherwise ten minutes of blowing in the middle, doesn't hold my interest too long. Maybe if I had a better theoretical understanding and a better ear, I could better follow what they players are actually doing. But as it is, I like the more structured side of jazz (e.g., Chick Corea / RTF, fusion, etc.). Same thing to a lesser degree for blues. They just don't speak to me.

Anyway, I got off-topic there.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Haha, yes you did get off topic, or at least tangentially so, Len. Nothing wrong with that.

I don't dislike Adams' work, and I can appreciate it in its own way. But I wouldn't say landscapes are 'inherently' detached, and there's many a landscape painter would be horrified at the thought.

But we are in the fortunate position of being able to like it all

 

[Rob MacKillop]

I edit the above comment…for the record…some of it didn’t make sense.

 

[Len Philpot]

But I wouldn't say landscapes are 'inherently' detached, and there's many a landscape painter would be horrified at the thought.

I probably failed to communicate what I actually meant, which is -- As a photographer, the landscape has a great impact on me, but I have no impact on the landscape (in that sense at least). Hopefully I can photographically express at least some of how I'm impacted, but that's up to me, not to the landscape. That's what I meant by detached and unidirectional.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Got you! You could always do an environmental art project where you plant your photographic prints in the landscape you used for them? You’d probably get an arts grant to do that!

 

[Gord Tomlin]

really admire his mastery of exposure, and of course the landscapes he chooses are stunning. But I don’t find myself seeing connections that I find in other photographers’ work, and I’m tempted to say that Adams’s work possibly lacks psychological depth, something that might trigger the flights of fancy I mentioned above.

I have the same admiration for what he does with exposure and the locations he shot. But I also don't have a gut-level reaction to his work. There's a detachment. I feel much more connection with shots of the same locations by, for example, William Neill or Jimmy Chin. I tend to think my admiration of Adams is an admiration of craftsmanship.

I was more or less at peace with my feelings, or lack thereof, about Adams's work. But this conversation makes me think harder about it. He was a master of exposure/tonality, so it shouldn't be that. He shot B&W, so it's not the colours. So what's left...composition? We've are now in a world where the "grand landscape" is taken with a wide angle lens with an interesting and tack-sharp foreground, and the alternative is picking out small distant areas of interest with a telephoto. Adams took a lot of shots that didn't fit either of those current paradigms...could it be a matter of looking at decades-old compositions with 2024 eyes? Or could it be that we are now more used to seeing B&W in street, architectural and portrait photography than landscapes?

EDIT: To be clear, I'm not critiquing Ansel Adams (I would be woefully unqualified to do that anyway!). I'm just trying to nail down why his work doesn't resonate with me on an emotional level. It's more of a look into myself.

I have no impact on the landscape

For sure...if you do, you're doing it wrong!

 

[Len Philpot]

I'm not sure how (much) my approach to landscape photography does -- or doesn't -- mesh with others. And FTR virtually all of what I'm saying here should be read in the context of "ideally" (since it won't always occur). But to reduce clutter I won't repeatedly include the word. And I hope it's clear I'm not dismissing nor critiquing any different approaches. It's just what I personally feel.

To me a landscape image is all about that landscape. Not just any landscape, but that particular one quite possibly at that point in time. I'm not implying it has to be an iconic, honeypot location / view, but it should be about something particular to that landscape, something special in some way, even if minor. When I see a landscape image I really want to think "what a great landscape", not "what a great image", even if it's true. I want to sense an echo of what it was like to stand there -- Maybe (necessarily) distant and / or incomplete, but an echo nonetheless. Whether a literal rendering or a more stylized impression is required to communicate that echo isn't really important, as long as it echoes. Of course communicating all one's on-site senses in a 2-dimensional static image will always be limiting, but hopefully something will get through.

And that's probably why I don't usually connect as well with more intimate, detailed nature photographs unless they're of something hitherto unknown by me (macros, time lapse, stop-motion, etc.). Woodland shots often feel the same to me. They quickly become rather anonymous. I've seen some spectacular woodland shots, but honestly with most of them I often wonder, "What's the subject? Where's the impact?" The shot may be, e.g., a pleasant, even pretty, view of some trees but it's still just some trees. Far often it's even less, to me. But to reiterate, I've also seen some spectacularly good woodland shots -- They're just relatively few and far between.

I like to sense my vanishingly small significance when viewing a landscape, or a landscape image (even if it's not a grand vista). I want to be overwhelmed in some way or another.

Also for the record, I don't think I've ever succeeded in echoing a visceral reaction to what I've seen. Numerically, as a percentage of what I've seen, the landscape itself has rarely provided anything to echo (which is entirely a reflection of my lack of exposure). But even when it has, I don't think I've succeeded in capturing it.

But I'll keep trying.