Tool Tips

One of the problem of being acknowledged as a decent photographer, is when you potentially get mistaken for an expert. Somewhere the quality of the photograph provides them the means to decide that I am an expert on cameras. While I do not claim it — if at all, I have some knowledge of photographs. It is different. It doesn’t automatically imply I know cameras very well. They of course, choose not to read about my bio on my Facebook Page:

Always face a problem, when I say I am a photographer. People talk about lenses and cameras and filters. I think photographers should discuss photographs. Haven’t yet found a photographer who talks photographs.

My close friends ask me this question with a context; I am usually happy to help when I can. And I usually can, because I have a context, but when an acquaintance catches you at a coffee shops, introduces you as a photographer to the stranger sitting with him, and then the stranger asks you a question about lenses with too many numbers. I am lost. Completely. I really do not understand cameras as much as I think I should or as much as people believe I do. I know, it is easy to presume, as such. Very recently when I thought I should get myself a new camera, I was on the phone with a friend asking for advice. And I am more often than not – at a complete loss when people ask me about which camera they should buy.

I think my problem relates, somewhat, to the Map–territory relation, which, for my purpose, I’d like to rename it as the Tool-craft Relation.

I once attended a workshop where the facilitator had used a modified, disposable camera to take pictures. He used images captured by this camera for a very prestigious commission he had secured. The modification, may I add, was to break open the camera, and use a string to control the exposure. (True Story)

For a very long time, I have maintained that the tool and the craft are two separate things, and while they have a relationship, it is not necessarily directly proportionate. A better camera doesn’t automatically mean better pictures, and a bad camera doesn’t automatically mean bad pictures. Good things come, not with a better tool, but with better understanding of your craft. Tools can help crafting; make it easier and convenient, but if you do not know the craft, the most sophisticated tool will be quite useless in your hand. In 2007, when I bought the camera I still use, as excited as I was, I said:

Yet, it is still a tool, as magnificent as it is. The tool can do only as much as the skill allows. The skill can be honed, only as much as the mind can train. The mind can train only as much as the heart believes.

So, what’s your tool tip?

Finally, Find Photos on Facebook

 

So, I was asked, how I was doing. Recent radical changes have got people worried about me. And every time I am asked how I am, I feel I should be worried too. I am just taking things a bit easy for a while, but most folks, knowing me the way they know me, are worried. It’s always nice to know that people care. Deep down, you feel very happy about the life within you and around you.

We talked of being confused and that’s when I said – I have no idea what to do with my photographs. I joined Flickr in May 2005 and have uploaded consistently since then. This April, I chose not to renew my Pro account on Flickr. Since then, I have uploaded to about nine different photo sharing sites; tried all of them. One of the advantages of being confused – is that you discover a lot of new things. Not one came close to what I was looking for. The big problem of social sharing is that you are a part of multiple networks, and have made friends and acquaintances in different networks. So, when you choose to upload your photos in one location, there’s a good chance that many, in other networks will not be able to see your work. Yes, most networks will allow you to publish to other networks, but more often than not – it’s quite clumsy. (We’ll just mark WordPress.com as an exception here).

The other thing about Flickr, was that it has not changed much in the last five-odd years since I have been a member. There is also some high-handedness in ‘curating’ photographs, as I have seen happening with a few Flickr members. I’ll admit, my photographs were never ‘force-curated.’ And for various reasons, my photos were getting good exposure. My favourite feature on Flickr, was the stats. It’s always nice to know which of your photographs are popular – and for what reason. But I was bored. Utterly. Five years is a very long time for a network not to do anything interesting.

In the meanwhile, I tried 500px, which has very good presentation. I felt however, it is too early and too basic, but I might reconsider it in a year or so; I don’t mind paying the slightly costly $50, when uploading/sharing becomes easier. There was always Facebook – but the photos were exposed to a limited audience (yes, I know I can make them public and share them outside of Facebook). Then, I looked at Saatchi Online – which is good for selling your work – and has a decent presentation too. Of course, I have been trying Google+, which has a cool presentation, but that’s about it. With very few ‘friends’ wanting to make the switch to G+, it didn’t make sense for me. However, G+ has been able to garner a very vibrant photographer community. That makes you wonder.

Click to visit the Facebook Page

I finally have now decided to move my portfolio to a Facebook Page @ If I Could See Better.

It is nowhere close to what I would look for in a photo-sharing site, for instance, the presentation style is not the best of what is available out there (Facebook is surely capable of much more), geo-tagging is manual and there is no smart way for uploading (have to go through a file uploader – no native app).

Yet, it’s a nice place to have a single location to keep all your photos, build a community around them, share to Facebook and Twitter, and get stats about your work. So, till such time something really smart comes up, a Facebook Page it is.

I’ve just started, so in time, you will see more, soon.

5 Ways to become a Bad Photographer

1. Never carry your camera around. Make excuses that it is heavy, too obvious, etc.
2. Imagine, and be influenced, by the feedback, that you are a professional
3. Compare yourselves with the work that others do
4. Take feedback so seriously that you become someone you are not (and end up doing work that you don’t want to)
5. Forget, why you used to love photography, in the first place

Decidedly Indian

A Twitter friend asked, what is decidedly Indian?

There was no further context available, and after giving it some thought, I said – Sarees

A few other suggestions did come along, I believe: as my friend finally settled on Mughal Architecture as decidedly Indian. (Yes, she did add – go figure!). She has finally settled on “crowds”.

It is pretty difficult to identify what is decidedly Indian – given that food, culture, clothing, terrain and sensitivities change every 200 miles in every direction.

Personally speaking, Mughal Architecture exists in large parts of Asia, unless we refer to Indo-Saracenic Architecture. Still, it is not a decidedly Indian, because there are enough of other architectural styles which are fairly evenly spread across the country, which are quintessentially Indian. Even with Crowds, I’d think China would lead. (Though India leads China on population density: 29 vs. 75). Also crowds are more a city phenomenon?

I recall a talk we had with a few colleagues, a few years ago, as we were building a visual digital product that would be used by children in rural India. Someone mentioned that the scene would be “a typical Indian Village”. My very perceptive ex-boss, asked a very pertinent question – what does a typical Indian village look like?

There doesn’t exist anything called a typical Indian village. The vegetation, the construction of buildings, the dress, the climate, the greenery (or lack of it) varies – widely.

Diversity, then.

That is what is decidedly Indian. But it is intangible. You cannot take a photograph of diversity and label it as Indian. Because you can photograph people from various regions or people following different faiths. To capture the essence of diversity in a single image is very difficult.

For now, I leave you with this village in coastal Maharashtra; Decidedly Konkan.

Then and Now

I took this photo on 23rd December in 2005.

This wall face is just next to a very small hotel in Kasal, in Konkan – on the Mumbai – Goa Highway. And this small hotel carries many sweet memories from my college days. The taste of tentative independence, being savoured slowly. I have kept going back to this hotel whenever I have been on this road.

Very recently, I was back on this road, this February. And I took this photo.

It is the same vehicle. I just felt like sharing. Enjoy.

New Meanings

Space, environment, intimacy and depth have new meanings.

A Regular Day

On a regular day, armed with a list of things-to-do, you don’t carry your camera. Not because you don’t expect anything worthwhile to capture, but because you think you will not find the time to capture. In and out of shops and such, where will you find the time to take photos?

And because you aren’t a tourist, it doesn’t occur to you naturally so, that you are going to a place where there may be something worthwhile capturing.

A big mistake. BIG.

A rainbow, comes unannounced and can come anywhere. And you will hate yourself if you miss capturing it. Well, doubly so, if you saw two rainbows at the same time.

Dang!

PS: always useful to have her camera phone handy.

Attitude of a Portrait

I can’t do good portraits. As yet, if I may add, to be thinking positive and all that.

There is something very easy about landscapes and still life that does not belong with faces. With people. Faces are very dynamic. They reflect the change in the mind; they change as fast. Portraiture also requires a certain attitude. A thought process — and an evolved one at that. Then, there is also the matter of skill. Taking photos of people requires you to have a different relationship with your camera. I believe, even the way you hold a camera, changes — when you capture a face; a human on the (digital) film.

I recently saw a BBC documentary on War Photographers and have been further intrigued about portraits since. The third photographer featured in the documentary, Paul Seawright, has done landscapes of war, so to speak, hardly any human presence in his work. Yet his work is very thought-provoking. In those landscapes there is always the nagging presence of humans — almost — where are all the humans?

Contrast his work with the first photographer, Philip Jones-Griffiths (you can see more of his work here, and I feel sad, I had not known of his work before). There is a stark contrast in the content of their work, yet they are the same stories.

The third photographer, Anastasia Taylor-Lind, is a very different photographer. She is in-situ; almost a participant in the act, rather than an observer. Her statements are very personal. Her work captures the subtlety of being in the war; it is experiential.

For both, Philip Jones-Griffiths and Anastasia Taylor-Lind, I have a different kind of respect. Their ability to capture a story, through a face, beyond just the expression or the emotion, hangs heavy.

Nothing replaces formal education. And I am often tempted to go back to school and learn photography. Technical skill is important and required for any art form. But in the end it is your own ability to be able to stand with a (usually) black optical object covering your face from your subject and seeing in their eyes, something that you want to show.

Photographs, can only show, what you can see.

The Right Time

Ever felt like this? The sinking feeling? Ever been in this exact moment? When you know you are sinking and this is the last chance not to go with the moment; to execute that life-changing act?

Ever hesitated at this exact moment? Where has that taken (or not taken) you?

DNA of Sight

Is there a unique way of how we see things? And the things that we see? I believe there is.

It has been some time that I have been on Flickr; suffice to say I have many buddies there who are excellent photographers. During my Flickr Life, I have learnt a lot about photography, much more than I would have learnt in a formal setting.

When I think back
On all the crap I learned in high school
It’s a wonder
I can think at all
And though my lack of education
Hasn’t hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall

And nearly as long as I have been on Flickr, I have had a RSS reader. And I have a feed that updates all photographs from my buddies on Flickr. Since I started, with about 7 – 8 contacts, I have 97 contacts. You can imagine that the feed gets updated very fast and becomes voluminous. Sometimes I have more than 300 posts (photographs) unread (unseen).

Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colours
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day, oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama, don’t take my Kodachrome away

All things become interesting after a while and you hope to read everything that you add to your feed. The feeds just pile up and you wonder if you are asking too much of yourself or you aren’t reading enough.

If you took all the girls I knew
When I was single
Brought them all together for one night
I know they’d never match
My sweet imagination
And everything looks better in black and white

Coming back, is there a unique way of how we see things? And the things that we see? I believe there is. And I have learnt it because of my feed reader and my Flickr contacts. With more than 300 posts piling up. I usually quickly skim through all of them. The finger on the down arrow key works with the speed of sight (light?). As I scroll quickly, my eyes are fixed on the area where the photograph is to appear; adjusting for orientation of landscape, portrait, oddly cropped, and badly cropped photos

Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colours
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day, oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama, don’t take my Kodachrome away

I can almost always identify the photographer without having seen the name of the photographer in the feed. Perhaps it is a style issue. I doubt it. Many photographers I know vary their styles. I think it is just the way people see things, what they see, subjects, and their point of view. Many of the photographers take photos of flowers, for example. I can, yet, (almost always) identify who it would be.

Is it about signatures?

Do we always know what we sign? Do we know that we sign?

Text in Italics, Kodachrome, by Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel.

Art of the Warrior

It is one thing to experience the remnants of a dying art form. Yet another to hear a warrior-artist present a view of his practice.

In the days of yore, Kalarippayattu was practised to protect the king and the land; now, it is practised to protect the art; protect itself.

~ Unni, Kalarippayattu Warrior, Kerala Kalari Centre, (Sargakshethra School of Dance), Thekkady, KL, India

More Photos

Of all the (mostly green) things that we could have osmosed in Kerala, this was a welcome sight of colour beyond the shades of green. And for someone who cannot help but be fascinated by the philosophy of swords, guns and the sword-bearer, this was a walk for a kid through a chocolate factory on an eat-as-much-as-you-can day!

Ways of Seeing – 5

The time when I was just about to leave college after graduation was a time when most elders were asking me to get further education. There will be a better job for you if you get post-grad certification, they said. I thought, if I get a job now, earn, I might be able to sponsor my post-graduation.

Seems the time has come.

My recent fascination of making good use of gadgets is iTunesU.

I listen to more lectures online than I listen to music on my iPod. The most open campus in the world! I can choose which lectures I attend. I can choose which university I attend. Nothing beats a formal education and the real campus experience, but I am not complaining.

For those of you who don’t yet know about it, iTunes has a section, called iTunesU. Some very well-known universities have put significant content online for you.

Free.

One of the colleges I go to is the Otis College of Art and Design, specifically their Liberal Arts & Sciences section.

In this section, I subscribed to their course material on Introduction to Visual Culture. This is where I first saw the photograph by Robert Frank, in my previous post.

There is an amazing body of knowledge in that photograph. I know it now because I have heard the lecture. But here is the deal. At one level, this lecture tells you all that this photograph denotes and connotes (the three lectures are about representation, denotation and connotation) and so I know a lot about this particular photograph. I know the depth and breadth of what this photograph may mean, from the lecturer’s point of view. At another level, the lecture opens up a world of possibilities of ways of seeing.Beyond that specific photograph.

I was a bit taken aback at the level at which the lecturer explored meaning in that photograph. The discrete, the abstract. The known, the unknown. The contextualised and the not. How many layers of meaning does the photograph have? How much are you willing to delve and dive in? What is your own meaning; is it clouded by the meaning that someone else has made? Finally, are all the layers truly meaningful or just abstract banter for the sake of it, and therefore, what is meaning?

What you see is limited only by your curiosity to know; what you mean is limited by your means of making your meaning.

Ways of Seeing – 4

I have been totally captivated by this photograph, for a while now.

 

Trolley, New Orleans, gelatin silver print by Robert Frank, c. 1955; in the Art Institute of Chicago. Copyright Robert Frank

The Resolute Life

Every moment that fear overcomes us, is a death. Every moment that we overcome fear, is a birth. I have died many times and I am still alive. I am ready to die a new death, for I am willing to live.

I cannot die for you. I cannot be born for you.
I may die with you.
I do not know however, if we will be twins again.

[The Resolute Life Triptych, September 2007, Nehru Art Gallery, Mumbai, India. 6x8 mounts on black chart paper.]

Come, Have a Look

Come, have a look at what all happened in the last few days. My stiff and rusty hands have been able to do something different than banging away at the keyboard.

From the 4th to the 10th of September, Sushma and I are exhibiting some of the work we have done, in the Circular Art Gallery at Nehru Centre, Worli in Mumbai.

We’d love to have you there with family and friends.

Map | Location

Another Brick in the Wall

Brick wall
BRICK WALL
wall of bricks
black brick of wall
black and white brick wall.

Take either of the phrases above and imagine many people (or the same person) using these phrase and searching the Internet. At least once a day.

Without fail, for the past seven days (at least), at least one of these terms or a similar one has led someone to the image of a brick wall on my photo blog.

I, for one, have been amusingly mystified. Is there someone out there who just likes to see walls made of bricks or is there a need to see something of a concept that they feel?

Does it do any better to see what we feel? Is that a problem-solving concept – “see it and you can handle it” kind of a thing? You know – the corollary to “what you don’t know can’t hurt you” kind of thing?

If I have ever been worried, it has more to do with the things I don’t know of. What I know is manageable because I can fight it – whether I defeat it or not is a secondary matter. Is that why we are hungry for knowing more – the insatiable appetite to collect knowledge – the repository; somehow acting as an armoury and weaponry with which we will fend and fight all that we know that carries in it the potential to hurt us?

Or is it just another brick in the wall?

An Eastern Breakfast

Oh yes, it was a welcome change, from the usual permutation of eggs and bread. Going east, wasn’t that difficult. Having it for breakfast was. The difficulty of telling your mind – it’s all right.

But in the end it all worked out. You make Malaysian Stir Fry Noodles in the morning for two, and end up having two portions. Living alone can be fun, but then it is short lived.

The fun, i.e.

Of Airports

I love airports.

They are a nice place to shatter your preconceived notions about life around the world. Not necessarily so that you can scream in your blog about the great leveller, whether first-world or third-world – the fundamentals of people in transit don’t change, but to know, for your own consumption. People from all over the world share that space for a short time and take off in multiple directions in a span of two or three hours. Airplanes, like thoughts, come and go in every direction, carrying with them people: some happy, some stressful, some sad and more often than not, just tired minds and bodies; carrying with them the additional burden of thoughts of the people they carry.

We never see the many worlds we live in and pass through.

In today’s uncertain and suspicious times, airport navigation has become stressful, no denying that. Somehow, I prefer that to the misery of an undesirable event on an airplane that I am on. Stressful, however is only as stressful as we make it. Ninety-five out of a hundred times, I have been able to cross through the queue without incident. (There should be a saying, ‘the moment you utter your luck it goes away’). All you need to do is do what they say. I see people make it just stressful for themselves by insisting on doing their own things – applying opinion as logic against a defined process. They are the rebels with their useless causes with their later belligerent conversations. Small victories that assert their pointless argument about a twisted personal logic of managing security. The person on the other side of the x-ray monitor doesn’t derive devilish pleasure for the harassment that is not. If you aren’t too busy stressing yourself out – see her face, read what’s on her mind.

Cooperation gets a completely new meaning.

Our inability to see beyond the x-ray machines and security cameras and process restrictions inhibits a good moment at the airport. See the slow arrival of the metal beast at the gate through a thick glass that trembles at the beast’s roar. See the nose of the aircraft in isolation, you might find it childishly cute. See the family at the other corner of the seating area and the children playing with their aircraft inside the airport on the carpeted tarmac. See the strong hands on the cement tarmac outside loading your overweight bags in the belly of the beast. See the uniformed sports team from Augustana College bound for Milan. See a few of your co-passengers getting in touch with friends, family and workmates on phone and free wireless; see the silent ones getting in touch with themselves. See the smiles in-spite of everything.

Our preconceived notions and belief in misery cloud our eyes and line of sight.

If you didn’t have a camera at hand and wanted to carry a picture with you, so that someday, three years later, you would like to come back to that same chair, and congratulate your past-self about a promise you made today, will you be able to confine that image to memory? That image of the strong black vertical and horizontal black metal frame holding clear glass, dotted with rain through which you saw the sturdy aircraft preparing itself for the long haul, just like you, preparing yourself for your personal long haul. The grey-blue of sky cut through a straight line of green on the ground far away. The scissor hi-lift loading food and the conveyor belt loading the baggage for the journey. That image of you on a cushion-less leather chair near Gate 13 at Barbara Jordan Terminal in Austin, TX, cross-legged, chin resting on your hand, elbow delicately balanced on a thin armrest, an open notebook with scribbles ambitious of being the words that will be your history someday. Will you be able to confine that image to permanent memory?

Your camera can capture all that you can see, never capture how you see yourself.

I love airports.

Blogging Being

I like to believe in coincidences. That way it is easier to deal with happenstance than dissect and analyse the ‘bigger scheme‘ of things that we aren’t privy to.

A couple of days ago I found great food for thought (as much as I was tempted to say food for blog, I shall let the cliché survive) on Lorelle’s recent Blog Challenge post. Just the thought sounded yummy and I said so. But I had no idea what definition I would give. I had shied away from it some time ago, when I had asked the same question to a few bloggers. Blogging means a whole lot of things to me and at the time I put my comment on her post, all those meanings were happily rioting against the floodgates that barricade my otherwise unruly thoughts.

Coincide the above with: The day after I did AFJ’s tag, I thought I would give the ‘answer‘ to the tag. But no, it wasn’t meant to be. I ended up running from here to nowhere via everywhere including WordPress WordPress Support. (The fine folks I always talk about). The problem was quickly resolved. Now, the response post wasn’t critical. At all. It could have been posted even after this post – it wouldn’t have mattered. But just the thought of not being able to post on my blog…!
Blogging doesn’t define me (and thankfully so; given the fifteen-odd blogs that I presumably “write”, I would be easily diagnosed with multiple-(and somewhat split) personality syndrome). I do, however, define blogging, and yet the definition is elusive. I talk of the kind of definition that we have all grown accustomed to.

x is y with z features.

A few of you who have been long-standing victims of my obsession with words, meanings and contexts will know my dilemma. What meaning do you ascribe to something like blogging? It is always easier, I believe, to derive meaning of multiple contexts, and blogging lends itself just fine to multiple contexts.

Blogging is spaces. It is about the spaces that we inhabit, in the world or the worlds that we create for ourselves. We believe we know our space, we are protective about it, often possessive about it. A blog becomes just that and a bit more. It allows for a meandering exploration along those in-between white spaces in between our worlds; those that we don’t often notice and hardly care for. When we are in the white space, when we see from that vantage, we see a lot of colour. There is a vigorous sense of being alive.

Blogging is fear. It is about two types of fear. One that we are able to overcome, often through anonymous blogging, a way for expressing that the otherwise imposed social rules of engagement do not allow us to. This is not floccinaucinihilipilification. Some of the best bloggers are anonymous and it doesn’t change a thing about the beauty and insight in their writing. At the same time, blogging causes fear. Well, fear is too strong a word, but after a while the material attachment to the post-count, comments, stats and therefore the readers, brings a tense sense of holding on. The blog becomes as human as we are. It has flesh and blood – and it has feelings. The cycle continues.

Blogging is judgement. Of every word that dims a few pixels on your screen. Of every post that was born of a thought that refused to disintegrate and crumble at the feet of your neurons; that insisted on being born. Of every reader who reads your post and says something, or doesn’t. Of the blog round the corner that often times does a tad better than my blog. Of the blog round the corner that often times does a tad worse than my blog. In these hallowed halls, where you become the judge and the accused in half-duplex, all is seen through a discerning eye. All is sliced up and spiced up, and given a permanent place, assigned a value.

Blogging, however, is mostly expression. An otherwise delinquent thought becomes a well-behaved angel and sits smartly in a post. And a million such, together create that wonderful experience that is not the author; the blog is seldom the author – it is the author’s projection of colourful thoughts like a festive London Eye on a moonless night, spinning at its own happy whim and in its own blissful frenzy.

And yet I haven’t done any justice to what blogging means to me. The most important context of it all; the most elusive: a blog’s cajoling nature that urges you to articulate more and articulate better (which has yet to work perfectly for me, what with the high level of abstraction that my discrete words adorn).

Ever had a dream, when you felt that you were in a deep dark abyss, falling and rising at the same time, lit up at both ends? Then you know what I mean.

Lies about Schools and Colleges

No, as much as some of you think I can’t keep afloat, I can.

And in spite of how it sounds, I enjoyed school more than college. It probably has to do with the boundaries of freedom or rather the lack of them, while in college. When the world suddenly opens up there is too much to explore and get accustomed to – perhaps that is the reason. The time is spent in exploring the boundaries rather than being in them. And by the time you know them it’s already time to leave. The smaller world in school, though restrictive to an extent – was fun – probably because there was great excitement in breaking a rule? Or perhaps – there wasn’t much to be explored – so being in it was what we did.

The further behind it is, the more nostalgic it becomes. Something like antique value, sprinkled with sentiments.

In response to my previous post.