Evaluating Photographs

When I realized that my goddaughter Maritza was graduating high school, I let her know that I would be making her senior portraits. I playfully told her that I would be the photographer, or else there would be some serious consequences. I had made photographs of her throughout her young life, but I had never done a proper portrait sitting with her. I knew that at this pivotal moment I wanted to do that, and I wanted to do it right.

When I thought of the photographs, I immediately knew what I did not want. I did not want to create cliché graduation photos with her in a cap and gown in front of a white seamless backdrop, or with cheesy poses in the park. When her mother suggested a nearby park for the photographs, I immediately nixed the idea.

Unfortunately, they lived in a community largely made up of residences and strip malls—not the most inspiring locations for an outdoor portrait session. Though I knew beaches offered the possibility of their own cliché imagery, I agreed to just such a location that allowed us to take advantage of the late afternoon light.

I had to admit I was a bit nervous. Though I had photographed countless people over the years, including a number of celebrities, I wanted these images to be special. I knew that Maritza and her family would look at these images years from now. They would be an important way of remembering this time in her life. For myself, I wanted to create more than just pretty photographs. I wanted a series of portraits that captured not only my goddaughter’s natural beauty, but the strength and character she embodied. I wanted photographs that reflected how I saw her as a young woman.

When we arrived at the beach, I was thankful to see a pier and an area just beneath it where we could begin to work. One of my big concerns was finding nothing more than the open beach with which to work. As beautiful as that could be at dusk, I wanted more to work with and the pier provided that.

Despite my nervousness, I fell back on evaluating the scene using the visual draws. The familiar workflow of evaluating and parsing a scene put me into a groove that raised my confidence level.

The area beneath the pier produced elements of light and shadow that I am always looking for when searching for a photographic setting. I do this all the time for my street photography, but it is especially important to me when making portraits. I have learned that the setting is often as important as the subject itself for a good photograph.

The sky was partly cloudy, making the late afternoon light relatively soft. However, the sun was strong enough to produce pronounced shadows. I noted how the light illuminated some of the pillars and then fell off into shadow further along beneath the pier. The lines, shapes, and textures of this area added a wonderful presence to the composition.

I asked Maritza to pose against a pillar and relax. I did not want her to force a smile or affect a pose. I wanted her to be present with me and not think that she had to force anything for the camera. I directed her to look off-camera and to relax.

When I reviewed the initial images on the camera’s LCD screen, I knew that this was going to be a good session. Even though these were the very first images of the afternoon, I recognized that I would have all the elements I have come to rely on for making a good portrait. With my quick parsing of the scene and handling of my technical settings, I was able to focus my complete attention on her, offering subtle suggestions for her body language and expression.

As we found different locations and she changed her outfits, I fell back into my visual workflow of discovering the setting first and then figuring out my technical settings. Each new location resulted in very different photographs that took advantage of different background elements including color, tones, and details. As I shared the images with her, she shook off her nervousness, becoming more relaxed and playful as time went on and the quality of the light improved.

It was a time that was more than just an opportunity to make nice photographs. It was a wonderful moment for us to get to know each other as adults. The images represented more than just a landmark moment in her life—they also represented the beginning of a change in how we saw and related to each other.

The Greatest Challenge

Though it may surprise many, the greatest challenge a photographer faces does not involve the creation of images. The real challenge begins when the photographer looks at the hundreds, if not thousands, of images that he or she has created and tries to figure out which ones are the best. It is this time that is especially critical for the photographer, because it is through this culling process that the photographer gets to truly define their vision.

This is a skill that few photographers learn. Though there are endless books and videos on the use of cameras, lenses, and Photoshop, there is very little on the subject of culling and editing images. So it is no surprise that many photographers struggle when it comes to looking through their day’s shoot to try and figure out what images deserve the attention involved with post-processing, printing, and sharing.

Part of the difficulty lies in the fact that people are never taught how to critically examine a photograph. They know what they like and what they do not like, and the critique often ends there. Ask them to explain why they appreciate one image over the other, and they will respond with a comment about liking the color or the lighting. Ask them to compare two similar images of the same subject or scene, and the decision becomes all the more complicated and difficult. It is not so much that the person does not know what they like or dislike, but rather that they lack the vocabulary to explain why.

The concept of the visual draws provides you the means to do this. Just as legends help you to read a map, the visual draws provide you with the vocabulary and understanding to read and evaluate a photograph. The very qualities that helped you to make the photograph are the same things that help you to cull, select, and eventually edit your photographs.

While walking on the Hermosa Beach pier, I saw a young woman wearing stylish sunglasses (next page). After introducing myself and asking to make her portrait, I positioned her at the center of the pier facing the late afternoon sun. I framed her using the implied diagonals of the pier, which guide the viewer to her in the center of the frame. The color of her skin, sunglasses, and red lipstick contrasted nicely with the clear blue sky behind her.

Both she and her friends were caught by surprise by the idea of a stranger asking to make her photograph and they started laughing. In that moment, she turned in their direction. I dropped my camera position slightly to eliminate the presence of my shadow on her. I captured the genuine reaction to this awkward situation in which she found herself.

Both of these images have a lot in common with respect to the visual draws of light and shadow, line and shape, and color. But the thing that creates the biggest difference is the gesture. The first shot is a more straightforward portrait that is composed in a more balanced, critical way. The second image is a lot looser and, most importantly, captures a more genuine expression of spontaneous feeling and emotion. Though not as “perfectly” composed as the first image, I prefer the latter image because of that genuine expression of emotion.

I had done much of the heavy lifting in figuring out the composition of the shot even before I asked the woman to make her portrait. I had considered where I wanted to place her in relation to the light and the pier. I chose a wide aperture to reduce the depth of field, emphasizing her and blurring the background. What followed was my effort to build rapport and watch for a sincere and honest expression. When it unexpectedly arrived in the form of her reaction to her friends, I was ready for it.

When you compare both images, you see a lot of little differences, even though the subject and the setting are exactly the same. Things such as the camera position, the relationship between the woman and the background, the turn of her head, and the reflection in her sunglasses all combine to create a very different experience of her in that moment, resulting in distinctly different photographs. Those little differences, however minor, are the qualities I often look for when comparing similar images and working toward the goal of finding the one image that works best.

Having Enough to Work With

Creating variations of a subject or scene sets the stage for successful culling of your photographs in the editing stage. You want to have a good number of images of the same subject or scene to compare and contrast so that you can determine which images work best. If you have just one photograph, that sole image is your only opportunity to succeed or fail. If my experience is any indicator, the greater the variety of images that I have of a moment, the greater my chances are that I have captured a worthwhile moment in a wonderful way.

To have a sense of what your approach is, you need not look any further than your digital contact sheet. As you look through your thumbnails, examine how many images you made of a given subject or scene. If you made only one, two, or three images before you moved on to the next moment, you are not seeing carefully enough. And I can say with all confidence that if you have been frustrated with your growth as a photographer and the quality of your images, your problem has nothing to do with the equipment that you were using. Your impatience and lack of careful seeing is what has really been hurting your growth as a photographer.

Having a variety of images to choose from provides you with your second opportunity to see the scene. The first time was when you made the photographs, when the whole world and everything in it was part of the moment. Your second pass has been filtered by your own seeing and when you pressed the shutter-release button. This paring things down from moment to moment helps you to find the gems in the rough.

Not every moment will provide you with the luxury of multiple takes, but many of the moments that are presented to us as photographers do. You have to learn to take advantage of them.

Combatting Impatience

We are incredibly impatient animals. In an age of microwave ovens, two-day shipping, and fast food, we have been convinced that fast and convenient is the best way to experience something. When it comes to photography, that is rarely true. A common mistake is made when we treat photography in the same way we order and eat a fast-food meal. It may be momentarily satisfying, but it rarely provides us with what we need over the long-term.

The importance of slowing down and exhausting the possibilities of a scene or moment are going to be clearly evident to you when you sit down to begin the culling process. Too few images, and you are simply on the hunt for the images in which luck was the real arbiter of whether or not you produced a good image. However, if you fully explore a scene for all its possibilities and make informed choices about how you compose each frame, you should be able to produce a series of images, each of which possesses major or minor differences that help differentiate it from the next. This increases the likelihood of producing an exceptional photograph. It is in this way you that you create photographs based more on skill and experience, rather than expensive technology and dumb luck.

This was the approach I took when photographing two young men passing a ball between one another in Hermosa Beach (next page). After initially evaluating the scene using the visual draws, I figured out how I wanted to render the scene as the young men played. I wanted to photograph their figures as silhouettes and enhance the colors and shapes provided by the late afternoon light. After setting my exposure and getting a rough sense of where I needed to photograph from, I began shooting.

My focus was primarily on trying to time the placement of the ball. I wanted it to be near one young man’s head and to be cleanly defined against the blue sky. By keeping both eyes open, I was able to see the ball just before it came into the frame. More often than not, I was able to get the ball in a good place within the frame.

However, the other people that moved through the scene were another consideration for me. Because there were so many people in the background, there were many frames where the outline of the young man’s body bled into another figure. Such juxtaposition took away from the gesture that his body provided each time he took to the air to head-butt the ball back to his partner. On top of that, the young men kept shifting position up and down the courtyard, forcing me to constantly change my position and reestablish my frame.

This dance that we were performing with each other made it a great challenge, but I persisted, knowing that there was a good shot to be had. As you can see in these examples, there were many images that came close, but because of framing or bad juxtapositions they did not work. However, I was able to finally settle on a single frame that I felt embodied much of what I was going for.

Like the photograph of the young woman with the sunglasses, the images of the ball players are similar. The light, shadow, and colors are relatively consistent. There are slight differences in line and shape due to camera position and framing. But just like the portrait, the critical elements that make the biggest difference for me are the gestures and the small details I described.

Succeeding in having that single frame would likely not have happened had I only made one or two frames. I understood that I not only needed to make a number of photographs, but that I had to be constantly assessing and reassessing my frame and making informed choices about what to change. If I were to succeed, I had to be completely focused on seeing with a keen eye and not giving up prematurely.

As much as embracing the concept of the visual draws help you to produce better compositions, it is going to be this process of exhausting the possibilities of a moment that helps you when evaluating your photographs. When you use the principles of the visual draws in the creation of your images, you begin the process of discerning the real potential of a scene and how it translates into a photograph. When it comes time to review the photographs on your computer, they will hopefully reaffirm those choices and free you to look for the small differences that bring a photograph to life.

Visual Stepping Stones

When actively seeing, you as the photographer are refining your vision. You are figuring out what elements need to remain in the frame and what needs to be eliminated. You are considering how light, shapes, color, and gesture help or hinder your ability to create the image that you have imagined in your mind’s eye. You are leaving less to chance and increasing the likelihood that you produce exceptional photographs.

As the image that begins this chapter illustrates, I was able to produce a final image that I was pleased with as a result of carefully parsing the scene based on the principles of the visual draws. I slowly built my image by analyzing the elements that were fixed in place as well as the fluid elements that changed from frame to frame.

When I was evaluating each image of that series, I was not only looking for the one image that best represented the moment, but I was also confirming my thought process and the choices I made while I was shooting. Those “failed” images were valuable to me for reinforcing the ideas and concepts that have formed my beliefs about what makes an image fail and what makes another succeed.

Each photograph, especially those that fell short, reaffirmed the importance of the small details, those almost insignificant flourishes that allow a photograph to succeed. These are my visual stepping stones.

In the series of images on the following pages, I photographed a scene at the Goodwill Center in Los Angeles where customers were sorting through bins of donated clothes. Clothes that for a variety of reasons do not sell in the Goodwill retail store are offered to the public for sale at a discounted price. Many people sort through the bins looking for items they believe they can resell privately.

When a new bin is rolled out, dozens of people are waiting to dive into the bins looking for items they deem valuable. I intended to capture the frantic energy of that moment and positioned my camera with a wide-angle lens at about waist level.

I composed the photograph to include the pile of clothes as well as the people sorting through it. The overall composition included several people within the frame, but emphasized two figures that I framed in the foreground.

As I shot, I paid attention to the body language and gestures of those two figures as they dug through the clothes. I looked for a moment when both produced gestures that complimented each other and provided a nice graphic dynamic to the frame. I consciously exposed each frame, rather than riding the shutter-release button in a continuous-high drive mode. I wanted to anticipate the moment and not rely on the camera to hand it over to me.

When I culled through the images, I could see that I had correctly considered all the important elements. My camera settings and the compositional choices had gotten me the majority of the way there. Now I was looking for that final flourish that would make the image stand out, and it was knowing that I was looking for small gestures that freed me to readily recognize them when I saw them. The image of the man sending a piece of pink fabric into the air while the woman was doing the same with a blue article of clothing provided me a mirrored gesture that strengthened the core of the entire composition.

The Role of the Critic

Each person has the voice of the critic inside them. I am not talking about the harsh critic that tells us that our images suck and that we should never have picked up a camera in the first place. You should relegate that guy to the dust heap. I am instead talking about the informed critic, the fellow who carefully examines an image and judges its effectiveness based on solid and repeatable criteria. You may not be familiar and completely confident with this voice, but given time and practice, it will be a natural extension of your creative process.

There is one caveat, however. The voice of the critic, while important, should only be present when it is time to cull and edit your photographs. That same critic should not play a role when you are actively creating your photographs. If you are taking photographs and repeatedly chimping on the back of your camera’s LCD, making judgements about the worthiness of your photographs, that is a mistake. You are introducing the critic prematurely and it will only succeed in interrupting, if not stifling, your creativity.

As the images of the two boys earlier in this chapter illustrated, I made a series of photographs, most of which did not work and did not fulfill my vision for the scene. I did not allow those initial images to dissuade me from shooting further. I did not use each unsuccessful image to question my skills as a photographer or to grow frustrated that the moment did not happen with a single frame. Instead, I focused completely on allowing the moment to play out.

Had I given up prematurely, I would not have that final image. If I had made one or two photographs, I would have a picture, but it would not have been an image that I considered successful. I was there to make photographs and make the best photographs I was capable of. It was not a time for making harsh judgements over how I was seeing and how I made photographs. Rather, it was about being fully in the moment and making changes and refinements as the moment changed fluidly and naturally in front of me.

The voice of your critic, if it is anything like mine, strives for perfection. However, that is completely antithetical to the creative process. When you are in the midst of creating, making your photographs, you have to be in a mental space where you embrace the risk of failure. You want to take chances, experiment, and do things that are uncomfortable, because those choices produce unexpected and welcome surprises that help spur your creativity even further. If you are simply duplicating what you have done successfully before, there is no creativity in that. There is no spark of inspiration or innovation. At that point, you are a technician rather than an artist.

So, remember to distinguish between the times when you welcome the critic into your creative process and the times when its feedback is a hindrance.