Building a Visual Workflow

It had been a long day and I was tired. I had conducted an interview for my podcast, written a magazine article, and tended to other business. I then traveled downtown to conduct a one-on-one workshop. I still had several things left on my to-do list and I was seriously considering adding a short nap to that already lengthy list.

I made photographs, but I was not at my best. I was struggling. My mind wrestled with concerns of the past week. Admittedly, I had put too much pressure on myself to get so much done within a very limited period of time. As much as I wanted to push those feelings aside, they returned with the relentlessness of a needy stray dog. I could not shake it.

It was hard to make images on a day like this. It resulted in me taking rather than making photographs. I found nothing but empty solace in hearing the click of the shutter, rather than enjoying the careful process of seeing. I grew frustrated and angry at my inability to get into a seamless space of creativity.

I took a break at a café for a cup of coffee. Instead of fighting my demons, I put the act of making pictures aside. I drank my coffee and watched life happen around me without the pressure of making a photograph. Instead, I directed my attention to enjoying the taste of my latte.

I sat there and managed to slow my mind down. By focusing my attention on something as simple as drinking a cup of coffee, the noise in my head diminished, as did the pressure to produce something great with my camera. When I was done, I stepped back out onto the street feeling refreshed and open to opportunity.

At that moment I saw the light cutting across the building facade and a nearby alley. I was lured in by the contrast of light and dark that it created, especially the sharp line between light and shadow. The shadows created lines and shapes that mirrored the lines and shapes of the building, the security gate, the sidewalk, and a lone pay phone. The red and yellow elements in the scene took on a vibrancy as a result of the hard sunlight. It was the perfect stage for a photograph.

I revaluated the scene through the camera’s viewfinder, considering the placement of the pay phone, the alley, the light fixture, the sidewalk, and the security gate. As people walked past, I determined where I needed a human figure to be to complete the photograph. Despite the strength of all the visual elements, I knew the image would not be complete without someone in the frame.

I noticed that those who walked close to the wall were illuminated by the sunlight, while those who walked closer to me were rendered as silhouettes. If they were close to the wall and walking from my left to the right, their faces were illuminated. If they walked from the other direction, the light only illuminated their backs. If they were rendered in silhouette, I could make it work regardless of the direction they walked.

Now it was just a matter of waiting. I made a series of images of people walking through the scene, determining exactly where I wanted them to be in order to create a balanced composition. There was an area of negative space between the phone and the black door in the wall that was ideal. However, most of the characters that moved through the scene were less than perfect, or I just failed to time the release of the shutter.

Unlike earlier, I became completely focused. I was no longer distracted by my own thoughts. Instead, I was immersed in the ebb and flow of the street. There was a rhythm there and I slowly synced myself with it. There was no rush or feeling of impatience; I was just in the moment.

When I caught sight of the woman walking from the left looking at her smartphone, I knew that I might have what I needed. I used the timing of the previous shots to anticipate where she needed to be in order to complete the frame. Just as she was about to step into that area of negative space, I released the shutter and created the image. The flourish that I had hoped for revealed itself and provided me with a wonderful gesture and an ironic contrast between the modern smartphone and the old pay phone. It was the perfect addition to a perfect moment.

Relying on Methodology

Having a practiced and repeatable way of seeing is an invaluable tool for a photographer. During those moments when the mind is full of distractions, anxieties, and self-doubt, you can fall back on an approach that has proven itself in its reliability and consistency. Because negative feelings do not always go away as much as you might hope they would, knowing how to work despite them becomes more important than the equipment you are using.

When I am in such moments, I stop and gather myself. Sometimes I sit down and take a break or practice a breathing exercise. When I return to shooting, I break up the scene and subject into the basic elements that I have been sharing with you: light and shadow, line and shape, color, and gesture. It is this series of actions that supplants the distractions and provides me with the means to not only make photographs, but to discover things that I might not otherwise see.

It is like relying on muscle memory when swinging a baseball bat or tennis racket. The technique that once required intense concentration and practice becomes instinctual and fluid, a natural extension of you. You do not have to concentrate on the action, but instead allow yourself to be completely in the moment. The depressing of the shutter-release button becomes the culmination of all of these things, resulting in the photograph.

I was sitting on a bench outside of a ramen restaurant waiting for my friend and I to be seated. Though tired, I did not allow my fatigue to stop me from actively seeing. I noticed the quality of the light illuminating the curb and street, and the shadows produced by people walking past me. I decided to create a challenge for myself to photograph the people walking by with the goal of including as many feet as possible.

This was difficult because each person had to be cleanly defined within the frame, and I needed a person to serve as an anchor to the entire composition. I made numerous shots, most of which failed miserably. Either a solitary figure walked past, which I found boring, or people were positioned too close together.

I did not feel any pressure since this was more of a visual game for me and I had nothing better to do as we waited. As I saw a small group of people walking toward me, I took notice of one person’s white sandals. She was walking closer to me than to the curb, making her the ideal candidate for my visual anchor. As she walked past, I gauged her stride to ensure that her legs would be splayed at the moment of exposure. I also scanned the edges of my frame to ensure that I included the three other people walking along with her.

I felt good that I had taken a moment when I could have distracted myself with my smartphone and used it to practice my way of seeing.

Where to Begin

When you observe a subject or scene that inspires you to make a photograph, that is the very time to begin thinking about how you see. You may be tempted to raise the camera to your eye and shoot, but if you are not aware of how you are seeing in such moments, you are just taking pictures. Whether or not they are good photographs is secondary. You are relying on chance and luck.

The impulse we all have is to simply take the photograph—take it before we miss it. It is this impulse to press the button before the moment disappears that drives the moment, even if we have not completely evaluated it. It is not about seeing, but rather hoping that this technology on which we spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars will figure out everything for us. It usually does not, leaving some of us believing that the next and greatest camera will do for us what the current technology cannot.

So it all begins with what you are seeing, the thing that drew your attention. But instead of absently taking the picture, you begin the process of analyzing the scene for light and shadow, line and shape, color, and gesture. You answer the questions that those things pose to you and begin the process of making rather than taking a photograph.

Though I spelled out this approach of seeing in a particular order, it does not mean that you have to approach a scene in exactly the same way. There will be times when you are drawn to a scene because of color or line or gesture. That is good. Whatever it takes to jump-start the process is fine. It is evaluating the other visual draws that helps you to make the choices necessary for producing a good photograph.

When I spotted this young woman in South Africa, I immediately knew I wanted to make her photograph. I was struck by her beauty, braided hair, and luminous black skin. I knew that I would not forgive myself if I did not ask to make her portrait.

But even before approaching her, I considered how I would use the visual draws to build a photograph around her. I noticed that just a few feet away from her was a gray wall that was located in open shade. The light there was soft and diffused and would help me to avoid the harsh noonday light. The gray textured wall was uniform and simple and would perfectly compliment her skin, hair, and white blouse.

I approached her and her mother and explained who I was and what I wanted to do. Her mother graciously gave me permission to make a photograph and I moved the young woman to the space in front of the wall.

I wanted to create a photograph of her in profile to capture not only the wonder of her braided her, but also the outline of her nose, lips, chin, and neck against the gray wall. I had been wanting to create a strong profile portrait for a while and I knew that this was my opportunity.

As I looked through the viewfinder, I noticed a few of her braids were in front of her ear. I asked her to push them back and when she did, it revealed a round earring with gold, red, and black colors. The earring provided a wonderful gesture of shape and color to a shot that otherwise consisted of black, brown, gray, and white.

Though I made some portraits of her facing the camera, I knew it was the profile portrait that I was most happy with. And of all the photographs that I made in Johannesburg, South Africa, this is easily my favorite. If I had made no other photograph during my travels, I would have been happy with this one.

The Importance of Slowing Down

Whether I am shooting street photography, a portrait, or sports action, my consideration of the visual draws is always at play. I am always processing and reading the scene, which leads me to make compositional choices.

This is an approach that has become natural to me. I do not have to concentrate or think about it in the way that I used to when I first started practicing it. I consider all of the visual draws upon discovering a subject and scene, which leads me to immediately make adjustments for camera settings, lens choice, or where I choose to stand, crouch, or lie down in order to make the photograph.

An important part of my learning to do this was to appreciate the importance of slowing down, of not putting so much pressure on myself to take the photograph. I had to give myself permission to take the time required to evaluate the scene, parse it out, and make my creative choices. Sometimes that time can be measured in seconds or minutes, but it is not the duration that matters, rather it is the attentiveness that I dedicate to seeing the scene.

Far too many photographers are in a rush. They find something to photograph, take a couple of frames, and are off to find the next thing to capture. It is of no surprise that they are often less than satisfied with the resulting photographs. It is like fishing with a shotgun. Yes, you will likely score some fish, but you will have completely missed the point. Because as with photography, the pleasure in fishing is the quality of the time spent doing the activity.

You have to give yourself permission to take your time. Not doing so results in rushing, which inevitably leads to bad choices and bad photographs. Though your work and family life may be filled with the pressure of having everything done by yesterday, you have to let such thinking go by the wayside when it comes to your photography.

Whenever I find a subject or a scene, I evaluate and reevaluate it. I photograph one way and then I make another choice, which may involve me changing camera position. I may navigate to the side of or behind the subject to find a better angle or perspective. I do not assume that my initial choice is my best choice. My best photographs are frequently a result of numerous considerations, which I am able to make only because I give myself the luxury of time.

This is one of the reasons I usually photograph alone. Along with not desiring the distraction of socializing with another photographer, I do not want to feel obligated to keep up with the group. During the few photo walks I have attended, I sometimes want to yell at everyone to just pick a spot and start making pictures.

The few photographers who I do go out with understand the importance of lingering, taking one’s time, and practicing patience. We will often lose each other only to find each other once again. Each of us has given ourselves permission to work in the way that works best for us. We do not allow others to deter us from doing things in our own personal way. Even though we are photographing in the same community and area, we are guaranteed to produce distinctive images that are unique to our way of seeing. We are often surprised at how the others saw a scene that we had walked past or even photographed ourselves.

This is not to say that socializing with other photographers is a bad thing. It is a great opportunity to socialize, compare experiences and techniques, and draw inspiration. However, if you are not careful, you can spend more time socializing than practicing a deliberate way of seeing. Making a choice to slow down and give yourself time may seem selfish, but I believe that it is necessary to improve one’s skills as a photographer and as an artist.

Applying What You Know

Though I do not often photograph sports, I could not pass up an opportunity to photograph Supercross. The event was held at Angel Stadium of Anaheim, but instead of a pristine baseball field, I found tons of dirt laid out in a complex web of turns, straightaways, and jumps. The roar of the motorcycles was loud and palpable. I felt the vibrations of all that horsepower through my feet to the top of my head. The sounds and sight of these young men launching themselves and their machines into the air was awe-inspiring.

Photographically this was going to be a challenge. I needed a fast shutter speed to freeze the action and I settled on 1/1000 second. I set my camera to shutter-priority mode, a mode I rarely use, to ensure the fast shutter speed. A meter reading of the scene at ISO 6400 gave me an aperture of f/5.6, which provided valuable depth of field.

After setting my camera to continuous focus, I photographed individual riders as they moved through the course. I picked a specific spot where they would launch themselves into the air, and I gained confidence in my timing as each of them rode past.

I realized that just having a single rider in the composition was not particularly interesting. I had seen that kind of shot before, even though I was not a regular patron of the sport. Nevertheless, I knew that there was a more interesting image to be had.

I decided to compose a photograph with multiple riders in the frame, hoping I could capture two or three riders who were airborne simultaneously. I moved my location to get a better vantage point while considering what would be included in the background. There was a lot of branding throughout the stadium, but I chose a location where I could keep that to a minimum and instead focus on the thousands of fans in attendance.

It then became a matter of tracking the riders as they moved through the course, paying attention to when a tight group made the turn and were on their way to the series of dirt hills off of which they launched themselves.

I made dozens and dozens of images as the riders appeared and disappeared from my line of sight, until I captured a single moment that provided me with what I had hoped for. The image caught three athletes in flight, positioned as if illustrating the three stages of a jump.

Though I had never before photographed Supercross, I relied on all my experience and skills as a photographer. I first resolved all of the technical issues with respect to exposure, white balance, and focus. Then I considered the kind of shot I wanted to make and evaluated the scene. Some elements were static, such as the stadium, the dirt track, and the advertisements. The athletes were fluid and ever-changing, but because of the nature of the sport, that was a level of predictability that I used to my advantage.

Despite my inexperience and nerves, I fell back on the familiar visual workflow of breaking down a scene and making the individual choices necessary to pull off the photograph.