Line and Shape

I was asked to photograph for a local nonprofit that gives at-risk girls the opportunity to work with horses. Located only 20 minutes from Downtown Los Angeles, the horses are housed in the oldest continually used stables in the city. I was scheduled to meet with the director to discuss the images they needed for their various promotional efforts, but I arrived early, so her daughter took me on a short tour of the facilities and told me I was free to wander and make photographs until her mother returned.

I took the opportunity to observe the environment and I noted how dark the interior of the barn was. The light that came through the barn doors on either end quickly diminished to shadow. Photographing the depth of this barn would be a challenge. I needed to shoot at a fairly high ISO and a wide aperture in order to produce good photographs.

I noticed one of the horses housed in a stable about 25 feet from the east-facing entrance. I made several test frames to see what I could produce in this part of the barn. My camera was set for the day’s outdoor lighting conditions, but that needed to change. I increased my ISO to 1000 and set the lens to its widest aperture of f/2. I would be shooting at a shutter speed of 1/100 of a second, which is one stop slower than I usually feel comfortable shooting at, but I stuck with those settings.

The beautiful horse stuck its head out through the opening of his stall and I loved the way the soft directional light illuminated his coat as well as the interior of the barn. Because of the relatively slow shutter speed, I knew I would need to capture the horse when he paused his movement, or his head would blur.

As I composed the shot I saw that the horse alone would not make for an interesting photograph. It needed the lines and shapes created by the various elements that made up the interior of the barn—the vertical and horizontal lines created by the slats of wood; the oval shape of the bridal hanging off of a peg; the square-like hole on the wall that mirrored the shape of the stall door. The horse’s neck and head offered a curved, flowing shape that served as a counterpoint to the lines and shapes that existed throughout the frame.

I continued to make photographs, framing the scene while paying attention to the movement of the horse. I observed when his nose overlapped a wooden post to his right. I wanted clearance between his head and the post, so I refined my timing further to create that important separation.

I was pleased with what I saw, but I realized that I faced some technical challenges when I returned for the actual shoot day.

Seeing Graphically

One of the things that helped me to avoid seeing the world literally was to learn to see graphically. Instead of seeing things for their functions, I began to observe the shapes and lines that those objects possess. I examined the rectangular shape of doors and windows and bricks. I saw the round shapes of light sources and balls and buttons. I discovered the lines in sidewalk cracks, the ribs of an umbrella, or telephone wires. I saw these things and how they interacted with each other and my eyes opened up to subject matter I had never considered before.

Shapes and lines are everywhere—I had to look no further than my own office to see this. I began to see rectangles in the shape of my computer screen, phone, tablet, speakers, digital audio recorder, file drawer, business cards, and hard drives. I noticed circles when I looked at the Chinese lantern above my desk, the floor fan, the lid of a coffee mug, and a lens cap. I observed lines in the form of cables, folds in the curtains, the grain pattern of the hardwood floor, and the crown molding near the ceiling. When I actively looked for shapes and lines, their abundance was immediately revealed to me.

When I ventured out into the world, I made similar observations of things around me, whether it was in the shape and lines of manmade things, such as automobiles and structures, or natural things like leaves, shells, and rocks.

As an exercise, I challenged myself to look not only for standard shapes such as squares, circles, and rectangles, but also for triangles, octagons, ovals, and even shapes that I did not have a name for. It was much like a child’s game, but a game that taught me to refine my eye and to take that all-important step away from seeing things literally.

When I photographed the things that I found, I learned the importance of cleanly defining a shape. It was important to not only find the shape, but also to consider the area immediately around it. Shape is defined as much by what exists around an object as the object itself. The shape of a door, for example, is cleanly defined by the existence of the wall around it. The square shapes of the keys on my keyboard are revealed because of the gray metal in which they are set. The lenses of my glasses are as much about the frame that houses them as they are the shape of the lenses themselves.

I paid attention to this as I made photographs that leaned more toward abstraction than documentation. By isolating the shapes that defined a thing, I emphasized the shapes and lines themselves.

In the photograph of my dog Zooey, I focused on the shape of the pads of her paws as she lay on our wooden deck. The shape of each pad is repeated on the bottom of her foot, resulting on a strong pattern. Each pad is separated by strands of fur that possess their own repetition of line and shape. The roundish shape of her foot pads are juxtaposed with the line and shape of the wood deck, creating contrast within the composition. The photograph is interesting because of its exploration of line and shape and not merely because it is my dog.

Take a moment to look at the space around you. What kinds of shapes do you see? Observe how frequently you see certain shapes and lines in your immediate environment. Think of how you might photograph some of those elements so that their shapes, rather than their functions, serve as the heart of your composition.

Seeing and Photographing Patterns

Where there are shapes and lines, there are patterns. Those repetitions are found in abundance in our natural and our manufactured world. They are not only pleasing to look at, but also help to develop your eye for line, shape, and form.

Pick up any leaf and you will see the beautiful patterns that Mother Nature has created. In this image of a leaf that I discovered during one of my daily walks, the leaf is defined not merely by its shape, but also by the repeating lines and textures found within it. More patterns are found in the water droplets that rest on the leaf, and even in the texture of the ground. Pattern and line exist in abundance in this natural object that others had walked past without any consideration or regard.

I increased my sensitivity to line and shape by making abstract images of virtually anything that I encountered. Instead of making a document of something, I focused on the graphic quality that drew my attention to it. These abstract photographs went beyond simple snapshots and emphasized the visual elements that piqued my interest in the first place.

In the image of a plant in my yard (page 88), I was drawn to the shape of the leaves and the pattern they created. The sun was behind the plant and highlighted the leaves in such a way that it also resulted in small shadows at the edges of each leaf. I framed the shot using an aperture that would keep the leaves on the stem sharp, while making the similarly shaped leaves and stem in the background appear soft and out of focus.

I had walked past this plant thousands of times and never considered it for a photograph before. But on this day, I observed how the sun illuminated the plant. I wanted to emphasize the shapes and lines created by the highlights and shadows, and the beautiful quality of light that illuminated the scene. All of that informed how I framed the composition to produce the final photograph.

I took this same approach when venturing out into the streets. I was on the hunt for lines, shapes, and patterns and I quickly discovered that they were everywhere. I began a process of discovering subject matter in the most unexpected and surprising places.

I was crossing a bridge in Costa Rica situated over a river that is notorious for its abundance of crocodiles. I saw a few floating in the water and hoped the bridge was sturdier than it looked. When I looked down at the various crocodiles, there was one that drew my attention, not because of its size, but because of the way the curve of its body was defined by the muddy water around it. The ridges on its tail and back were made more pronounced by the shadows, making its skin appear horny and threatening.

I moved my camera out over the railing of the bridge and framed the composition to emphasize the shapes and lines that piqued my curiosity. The result was more than just a snapshot of the animal; it was a beautiful abstraction that revealed the animal in an unusual way. The photograph captured my personal experience of the subject in that moment.

Grocery Carts

For a period of time, I created photography assignments for myself. These were meant to get me out shooting on a regular basis and keep me on my toes visually. One day, I got it in my head that during the week I would only shoot grocery carts. I don’t know why that idea popped into my head, but as soon as it did, I wanted to change my mind. It was a stupid idea. I did not want to spend what little time I had hunting down shopping carts to photograph. Could there be anything any more boring?

But I did not let myself off the hook. I felt that my resistance was exactly why I should do it. So I gritted my teeth and I began the exercise.

Suffice it to say, I surprised myself. Suddenly, I saw grocery carts everywhere. I saw them when I went to the market to do errands and when I was walking or driving down a street. It sometimes felt like an infestation out of a sci-fi horror movie.

When I discovered one to photograph, the challenge was to make it interesting. The way I did that was by not looking at the shopping carts literally, but by observing the lines, shapes, and patterns they created. I looked at how shapes and patterns existed in the body of the carts themselves, and also how they interacted with the lines and shapes of the objects around them. Some of the photographs were tight detail shots of a cart and others looked like environmental portraits. With each image, I took that mental step back to observe the most ordinary thing in a completely new way.

That week-long exercise that I had been reluctant to begin filled me with excitement and eagerness by the end of the week. I felt that I saw the world with a different set of eyes. I did not produce the same photographs over and over again; rather, I challenged myself to see and create photographs in a different and unique way that informed everything I did afterward.