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AI (algorithmic intelligence) and Authenticity

There’s an obvious reason for artistic creators to dislike AI-generated imagery and other types of generated content: the economics related to replacing human-made art with machine-algorithm-generated illustration. This involves displacing the human, depriving them of a preferred or reliable income and forcing them from that specific workplace in favor of what appears to be a less expensive, faster, and just as or more creative process. It’s a disruptive technology that at present doesn’t seem to be the type of disruption to improve human creativity. Just the opposite, it seems to shift the process from creativity and relevancy to just a necessary step in what’s turning into a mechanical process. AI does not have emotional experiences from which to draw inspiration, has trouble creatively weaving unrelated subject matters into a coherent whole, and cannot “create” anything on its own. It requires detailed instructions and multiple revisions, whereas a human creative can work from the briefest of concepts (albeit also with some revisions).

The not-so-obvious reason is the competition between the results of AI-generated imagery and what can be produced using “practical effects”. Much like the movie industry’s ability to create entire digital environments (mostly manually so far), illustrations mimicking photographs are increasingly easier to make, manuscripts easier to produce. Just as manual animators are replaced by digital technicians, photographers are replaced by (and have to compete with) other digital technicians.

And the biggest gripe I have is with the photographers leading the way to digital AI-generated images replacing traditional photography. Well-known photographers are now promoting AI-generation as the “new photography”, “learn it or be left behind”. And they take advantage of the many amateurs in particular who are just learning, are struggling enough to become proficient with camera, composition, and seeing, but now have to think they’re behind the curve. So they jump on the bandwagon, furthering the demand for AI, images, data centers, and all that comes with it. Just on the perception they need to keep up. And experienced photographers are left competing with experienced image generators AND up and coming amateurs flooding the zone. AND defending their own authentic work against a possible perception of artificiality by viewers, and a perception by artists that artificially-generated images are better quality (they can appear to be more aesthetically and visually impactful, but that doesn’t make them better or more meaningful). This is the conflict that tends to bug me the most.

A key factor in my dislike of AI-generated images, music, or text is the lack of authenticity. The definition of authenticity that applies here is: being the authority of your genuine work and true to an original source, taking ownership of choice and identity, acting in recognition of individual freedom and responsibility rather than deferring responsibility to external authorities, such as social, cultural, industry pressures, or tools like Photoshop or AI-generating algorithms (I call AI “algorithmic intelligence”, which is artificial enough for me). Authenticity is, like the approach to art, and life I suppose, a philosophy. A philosophy based on your trust and belief in yourself; that you desire to be a genuine person, the sole authority of your work, the original source of what you make and think, separate from whatever pressures exist to make you conform to the newest trend or fad or preference or directive. Artists receive enough social, cultural, market, and community pressure to produce “acceptable” work. Being authentic is one of the toughest things about being an artist. And here’s the tough part.

AI can seem like the bridge between authenticity and acceptance. It can seem like a paved highway instead of a two-track dirt road on the side of a mountain. It looks a lot like a big red Easy button. But, no matter how much your prompts represent *your* intent, those prompts are just guidelines, boundaries, the box within which the AI operates and the constraints on whatever it is it’s supposed to produce. And the results are based on how well you articulate the prompts, how well the AI is trained, how many credits you have available for the initial creation and subsequent revisions and, even then, the result can’t be attributed to you alone, because the result is an interpretation of millions of other samples of actual authentic (and probably also generated) work, styles, forms, images, words, sounds, compiled in accordance with the prompts you laid out for the algorithm to follow. None of the result has been directly created by you, no pen to paper, brush to canvas, finger to shutter release. You have not taken ownership and responsibility, you have deferred that responsibility to an external source. You have abdicated learning or improving a skill for expediency, as well as the trust and belief in yourself. The US Copyright Office has determined that AI-generated works cannot be copyrighted. They are in the public domain. Whatever you “create” does not belong to you, legally, in any form. Your AI creation is not authentic.

There are individuals who, as a way to retain authenticity, of a sort, in their work, have created their own AI engine trained entirely on their own work, isolated from the influence of generators like Midjourney, Claude, Canva, Suno, Lyria, ChatGPT, and Copilot, so the generation of whatever it is can relate directly to the type and style and form of the work that individual already creates. That allows more authentic exploration within the individual’s own work, without direct external influence. Most, however, rely on whatever the particular AI interprets and mashes together stored in its own collection. Like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.

The authenticity of AI-generated work will always, at least currently, be questioned. Always. As I mentioned earlier, AI algorithms have no experiences or emotions to respond to, to inspire its creative impulses, to drive itself to experiment and explore alternatives spontaneously, to take advantage of accident and serendipity. These are the core of authenticity, other than the fact that whatever AI generates has never existed in its entirety in any form, but contain parts of the imaginations of many others. Certainly, all art forms can create works that are entirely imaginative, conceptual, and devoid of any reality whatsoever, without any help from a computer. But, authenticity comes directly from the imagination of a human brain composed of organic neurons interpreting and translating emotions and experiences to other parts of the body – hands, fingers, legs, feet, eyes, mouth, voice – that make visible or invisible marks (paint, ink, photograph, sound, sculpture, writing, movement); content with personal context, with intent and meaning. Not something produced by algorithm from a few sentences that “looks good”, “sounds fine”, “reads well”. I admit, I’ve seen many AI-generated images that are pretty cool. And maybe it’s because I grew up with paintings and drawings, past and present, that are expressive and beautiful (fantasy and Sci-Fi book illustrators like Frank Frazetta, Rowena Morrill, and Boris Vallejo, among others), that I don’t trust their authenticity no matter how cool they are. Because the gesture, the form, maybe even the subject, textures, colors, the lighting/shading, composition, are not directly controlled by the person creating it; the words aren’t passing from the brain directly to the pencil, pen, or keyboard, the music in the mind isn’t passing directly to paper or instrument, the image isn’t passing from brain to paintbrush to canvas or to hand, eye, and camera.

AI is like a ghostwriter, an intermediary, a translator, something that appears to be better, more capable, more skilled. An individual has an idea, a concept, but beyond that isn’t capable of completing the piece, so turns to someone who can act as their hands to make their imagination visible, to turn a concept into a full-bodied novel. Or, because good ghostwriters can be hard to find, can be expensive, can take time to cultivate results, the AI-engine is right there any time of day or night and to the eager and less critical, will likely produce something “good enough”.

Before I repeat myself more, I’ll end there. In all the critiques of AI I’ve made, all attempts to work out in my own mind what exactly it is about AI that doesn’t appeal to me, I think the lack of authenticity is it. I’ve skirted around it in my previous descriptions, not quite pinning it down, but there it is. That’s the philosophy I’ve adopted to accept or reject this new technology by.

I’ll just add one more thing, and that’s about AI as a tool. I’ve mentioned this before, that photographers have been using AI tools for years in Photoshop, Lightroom, and other image processing applications on desktops and smartphones. AI is actually the umbrella term for the variations of machine learning, deep learning, and neural networking (which themselves fall into one or more categories of AI: Artificial Narrow Intelligence (ANI), Artificial General Intelligence (AGI), and Artificial Super Intelligence (ASI). AI, generally speaking, is also a threat to skilled and unskilled human jobs and livelihoods across the spectrum, not just artists and writers. We’re heading into unexplored country, venturing into a forest we can’t see through, and we’re not going very cautiously. We’re kind of racing in on horseback at full gallop, racing to be first to the pot of gold or whatever lies at the “finish line”, which could be a cliff we can’t avoid going over or a wall that stops us cold. At this point, because of our own exhibited tendencies, I kind of doubt what’s waiting for us in the forest clearing is a benevolent robot intelligence waiting to shake our hand.

ai-vs-machine-learning-vs-deep-learning-vs-neural-networks

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What is Your Creativity?

I’ve written about creativity several times in the past. It’s a topic with many facets and theories of its origin, purpose, and development. Each time has been a general description because there is no definitive explanation why humans exhibit this particular trait so strongly compared to other animals. There are compelling arguments suggesting creativity is an important component in our species’ survival and dominance. Not strength; we are one of the physically weaker animals on the planet. Not survivability; throw us naked into the wilderness or into the ocean and our time on Earth is limited. But our brain has evolved to be a creative problem solver, to innovate, to be able to combine disparate concepts and physical materials to make things that compensate for our shortcomings. And, perhaps as a byproduct of our brain’s evolution to keep us alive, to express ourselves with art. The same process that solves problems and innovates tools is used to be expressive, to make poetry, sculpture, photographs, drawings, paintings, oral stories then written stories, and everything in between and beyond.

I’ve written about “What is Creativity?” more than once because it’s a subject with a deep reservoir. It’s not like camera operation, how to maneuver through image post-processing applications, or understanding how exposure works. It’s a mysterious quality that can be generally understood, discussed, debated. But, to be creative, it has to be practiced. Like mathematics, engineering, and medicine, creativity is an applied science. We know creativity is innate, learned, nurtured, practiced, perfected. There have been studies and essays to discover the whys and hows of creativity since ancient times, no doubt even before writing was invented. But, one thing I can’t write specifically about, what nobody except you can write about is, What is Your Creativity? I know that’s the title of this newsletter essay and what I’m writing about, but it’s not another essay about what creativity is or might be or how to be creative. As creatives, we engage in a lot of comparison exercises: “Is my art as good as there’s is?”, “Is my art original enough?”, “Is my art creative?”, “Is my art relevant?”, “Is it meaningful?” etc. That’s certainly an expansive topic of its own but, if instead of comparing ourselves to others we examine our approach to art and conduct an internal audit of our purpose and process, could that help us improve as well as be more confident as an artist?

What is it you do that is creative? It doesn’t have to specifically be making a certain type of art. It could be how you organize or decorate your home or apartment, how you analyze and develop solutions, or make up silly spellings for items on your grocery list. It might help to make some quiet time and reflect on your creativity and your creative process. How are you creative? What are your processes, innovations? What materials do you use making art (all of the materials, including tools and presentation)? What do you express, why, and how? Why do you choose to write, photograph, draw, or….instead of using any other art form? What is it about the medium you use that appeals to you? It could be something you became good at and haven’t tried something different. It could be easier for you due to physical capabilities or limitations. And, examine the foundations of your art making. What causes a person to gravitate toward, or “specialize” in one form of expression over another? Who or what are your inspirations for style, materials, subject? How do these inspirational things and people and events influence your perceptions, your preferences and biases, and impact your concept of the world? And how, specifically, do you use your chosen form to express yourself? How does your life impact your art? Is it a defining aspect or have no significant influence? Though something thought to be insignificant might have more influence than you realize. Along with your personal foundation for your art there are many “schools” within any given art medium – techniques, methodologies, ways of manipulating materials – that create variation within, as well as mixing different forms together.

The medium you choose, your manipulation of it, and your expression with it, comes from within, from a place of personal experience and knowledge, made visible by learned and practiced skill. Skill can be taught, knowledge can be taught, and experience is something we gain over time. But creative expression, the form it takes, cannot be taught. That’s all you. Creative expression can be encouraged, mentored, guided, but no one else can tell you or teach you what to say or how to say it. You can copy, modify, be inspired by the works of others or develop your own original approach, but eventually you’ll land on something that clicks, that provides the message, the meaning, other art forms do not.

We all have our own opinion as to what passes for art and what doesn’t. There is no set criteria to tell us, yes, here is art and, no, that’s not art. Mostly, I think, we reject artistic expression we don’t understand. We aren’t able to relate to it on a personal level because the expression of the artist’s experience is so much different than ours. We are unable to find a common ground or understanding to pair our experience with what they are showing us. We might be able to learn about their experience through their art, and increase our understanding. Every one of us has different origins, different levels of knowledge, experiences, biases and prejudices. We don’t all have the same assessment of what is art, and some works won’t resonate with us on the same level as something more familiar. Other art just doesn’t meet our somewhat arbitrary, undefinable, standard of quality. We use that undefinable standard to judge our own work, too. Undefinable in that we don’t have a specific list of criteria for brush stroke, color combination, light, shape, shadow, form, line, composition, texture, grouping, subject, subject matter, presentation, etc. that makes any given expression artistic.

Examining your art making, particularly its foundations, as objectively as possible is a useful exercise. Does the art adequately express our intention? Is it the right medium? Does it meet the undefined criteria? Whether you’re happy with the art you make is what matters. It’s your art, your creativity, your expression, your meaning. You can work throughout your life to refine your expression, to make its meaning more clear and relatable to others (if that’s your intention), or not. It is your art. But the important thing is, first, you understand your art, that it meets your needs and the criteria you set for yourself; that the medium, method, techniques you apply originate with you and is not compromised by second-guessing what might appeal to others.

There is a lot to unpack here. But as you walk your art path, as part of your process, your contemplation, consider the question “What is My Creativity? What do I bring to this topic, discussion, subject, subject matter? How am I creatively addressing a solution?” Explore, experiment, innovate. Care less what others think you should be doing. Say your thing and have fun doing it.

Remember, your art is yours and yours alone; your interpretation of your experiences and perceptions. How you express that to others, how you choose to present it, is up to you.

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Silent Creativity

Silence. Stillness. Solitude.

It was later in high school when I started to think more seriously about photography, despite having a darkroom in my basement since 9th grade. I wanted to shoot medium or large format, but didn’t have the funds for either camera or film, chemistry, additional darkroom equipment, etc. So, I taught myself to photograph with a 35mm camera as if it was large format. That meant, slower, deliberate compositions, not “motor-driving” through film, literally and figuratively. It required a different mindset and awareness; more consciously observant, less reaction and more preparation. I could still shoot more exposures than possible with large format, but after some practice I was “wasting” less money on film and processing for a greater ratio of keepers. And slow generally means quiet, patient and, depending on the subject, relatively still.

These days, when I’m out photographing I’m usually alone, or end up solitary if with a group (like many photographers). I’m all in. Talking distracts and takes me out of the mode, and definitely out of the Zone when I’m in it. I prefer the relative external silence of solitude, which also inspires internal silence, or stillness. Even if I don’t happen to make any photographs, photographing is a meditative practice for me; a calming, centering activity. But, according to research I’m in the minority.

Some people, many it turns out, fear silence. The phobia is called sedatephobia and those who suffer from it experience anxiety, distress, even physical symptoms like heart palpitations and nausea. People with this fear feel a desperate need for constant sound, in whatever form, to avoid the emptiness of a quiet environment and exposure to the thoughts of our inner world. To sedatephobians, in our hyperconnected, overstimulated world, silence is discomforting, disorienting, distracting. Silence is a threat.

A smaller percentage of people enjoy silence. The love of silence, stillness, solitude, is called by several terms; eremophilia, aphonophilia, sigophilia, isophilia, and others. In some cultures and practices, long periods of silence, either sitting still or while performing regular daily activities, is used to focus and center the mind. For absolute silence, have a sit in an anechoic chamber. Anechoic means free from echo and an anechoic chamber is built with specialized materials to completely absorb sound. The anechoic chamber at Orfield Laboratories in Minneapolis, holds the record as the quietest place on Earth, absorbing 99.99% of sound, resulting in sound recordings of -24.9 dB (decibels. The average sound level of daily life is 60-70 dB, 512 times louder than inside the chamber. A quiet forest or remote desert is 0-20 dB, about 32 times louder). It’s so quiet, a person can hear their eyes blink and blood moving through their veins. The world record for time spent in an anechoic chamber is 1 hour 26 minutes. The closest I’ve come to experiencing an anechoic chamber is in Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico. I spent 5 hours in the cave, much of it nearly alone. At one point my camera was making a noise I hadn’t heard before and I wondered if it was going to fail. After some inspection I realized I was hearing the internal motion stabilization mechanism that is so quiet under normal circumstances you never hear it. I could hear people walking 100 yards away and talking much farther than that.

Silence is both a condition of the external and internal environment and includes such experiences as stillness and solitude. Stillness can refer to the state of the body or the mind, or both. It is a calmness, an emptiness and focus of mind that dismisses or places a bubble around disruptive thoughts and fears. The mind can be still, too, even if there is chaos surrounding you. Stillness requires practice.

Solitude is typically a physical condition of being by yourself and can be positive and negative experiences; being alone versus being lonely. Being alone, or solitary, is an experience without distraction, without others demanding your attention, without unnecessary noise like the TV, telephone, or demands to complete tasks like laundry, mowing the lawn, or grocery shopping. You are in control of your own time. Loneliness is an emotional experience of loss, of not belonging, being left out, and is usually not a beneficial aspect of silence or stillness.

Part of the reason for wanting stillness, a quiet mind, is because our brain can only process a relatively small amount of data at a time. In the 1990s, Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi determined the brain can cognitively, consciously, process about 126 bits of information per second. That’s for being aware of things like spoken words, music, details of the environment, activities around you, colors, odors, other environmental sounds, etc. He determined, experimentally, that it takes roughly 40 bits/second to comprehend a conversation with another person (and still be aware of things like facial expression, body language, and other aspects of the environment). If you’ve been in a conversation with three people, do you remember what it was about, who said what, what they were wearing? Have you tried to carry on a conversation with more than three people? Three, he described, was the limit of consciousness, the limit of cognitive awareness. Of course, our brain receives way more information than that from our external and internal environments, much more than 1 gigabyte per second. But most of that is taken in by our autonomic nervous system and subconsciously, unconsciously acted upon or ignored based on the moment and the stimulus.

Information enters our consciousness because we are focusing attention on it or it’s from attentional habits or autonomic responses. The ability to receive and understand this information is what Csikszentymihalyi calls psychic energy – the energetic capacity of the brain to consciously process information. When there is a lot of information entering consciousness, from internal and external sources, overloading the 126 bits/s processing ability, it causes psychic entropy, a disorientation of the self, disruption of consciousness, and reduced focus and attention. More recent studies have concluded, however, that cognitive processing might only be between 10 – 50 bits/s. This corresponds with Csikszentmihalyi’s conclusion that because of the limits of psychic energy and the disruption of psychic entropy, humans tend to consciously process only 1-3 things at a time with any success.

Sedatephobians experience a lot psychic entropy in silence. Introverts, too, in crowded, stimulating environments. One suffers from internal distraction and disorientation while the other suffers from the external forms of the same. A balance of stillness for both increases the amount of psychic energy available for focus, attention, and concentration when it comes to making art.

Graham Wallas describes four stages in creative thinking (mostly from the physicist Hermann von Helmholtz) that have been widely accepted by those who study creativity. The first is Preparation, in which a thing is investigated thoroughly from all angles. The second is Incubation, during which the thing is mulled over, let sit for a time, steeped, when the unconscious processes can give it a once over. The next stage is Illumination, when after all the preparation and incubation all the parts come together in what can be an A-Ha! moment. The final stage is Verification, when the idea is put to the test – a thing is made, or written, or tried – to determine whether the idea is valid, needs to return to the preparation stage, or trashed.

Many artists, especially writers, sequester themselves in some quiet environment; a room set up with minimal distraction, periods of time in the home when no noise can be made, an isolated “cabin in the woods”. I tend to put on headphones and listen to ambient electronic music while I concentrate, particularly when writing or working out a potential project (preparation). Music with words is too intrusive. When photographing, I will “invite” the environment inside, if I’m outdoors in nature or, if I can, tune out whatever is distracting. That ability has come with lots of practice. When outside, I sometimes photograph to music I imagine in my mind, inspired by my connection with the environment I’m in. Deciding on a practice can take time, require some experimentation, and certainly some self-reflection about your personal preferences, work habits, how your own mind works and its own requirements for stillness. There are a lot of resources out there for creating a process that works for you.

Personally, I’m against the idea of setting aside a certain period of time in the day for silence. It can create regimented periods and boundaries limiting your ability to be still and quiet at any time, or all the time. It can create expectation, and disappointment that can take time to recover from if that routine can’t be met. I feel the same about “art time” for the same reasons. Some people may need such a consistent routine, and it’s a perfectly valid approach when time is required by such things as job and family. What you “feed” your mind is also important to nurturing creativity. Interesting, challenging, creative, educational books, shows, tasks, not necessarily related to art making can stimulate ideas and keeps your mind active. When you find moments of silence, your brain has time to cogitate, organize, build structure, and come to some conclusion or solution or more questions to ponder. For me, it’s important when I want to make art or think about something, to remove as much of the distraction of the world as I can. Thai Nguyen, a writer and artist, compiled a list of 10 things why silence and solitude are good for the creative process (I also don’t like lists of 10 things, but here we are, and I’ve only included 7 from his list):

1. A break from the tyranny of productivity
2. Heightened senses and awareness
3. Improves memory
4. Increases self-awareness
5. Improves brain growth and complexity (neuroplasticity)
6. Assists the incubation phase
7. Mastering discomfort

References

Csikszentmihalyi, Mihalyi. 1990. Flow: The Psychology of optimal experience. Harper Collins Publishers, NY

Fell, Bruce. 2012. Bring The Noise: Has Technology Made Us Scared of Silence? The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/bring-the-noise-has-technology-made-us-scared-of-silence-10988

Koudenburg, N., Postmes, T., & Gordljn, E.H. 2011. Disrupting the Flow: How Brief Silences in Group Conversations Affect Social Needs. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 47(2).

Loori, John Daido. 2004. The Zen of Creativity: Cultivating Your Artistic Life. Ballantine Books, NY

McKibben, Bill. 1992. The Age of Missing Information. Random House.

Sauerbrei, Britton, A and J. Andrew Pruszynski. 2025. The Brain Works at More than 10 bits per second. Nature Neuroscience 28:1365-1366. online https://doi.org/10.1038/s41593-025-01997-0

Wallas, Graham, in Rothenberg, Albert & Carl R. Hausman (eds). 1976. The Creativity Question. Stages in the Creative Process pp:69-79. Duke University Press, Durham, NC. From his original 1926 publication The Art of Thought, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc.

Wilson, E.O. 2017. The Origin of Creativity. Liveright Publishing Corp., NY

Yamada, Haru. 2015. Yapparl, as I Thought: Listener Talk in Japanese Conversation. Global Advances in Business and Communications Conference & Journal, 4(1)

Zheng, Jieyu and Markus Meister. 2025. The Unbearable Slowness of Being: why do we live at 10 bits/s? Perspective 113(2):192-204.

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2025 PhotoExplorations (formerly known as Workshops)

I’ve made some schedule changes to my 2025 PhotoExplorations. The ones that have deposits remain unchanged. I needed to move Ireland and Wales to October from August.

April 24-26 Intro to Astrophotography (Boise)
May 8 Giving and Receiving Feedback (Boise, free seminar)
May 16-25 Faroe Islands (limited space still available)
June 7 Intro to Cyanotype Printing (Boise)
June 10-15 Monterey and Point Lobos
August 30-Sep 6 Acadia National Park
September 9-15 White Sands National Park
October 1-10 Northern Ireland
October 11-20 Wales
October 23-Nov 2 Iceland Northern Lights
November 5-11 Central Oregon Coast

I’m working on an Intro to Astrophotography workshop for July, dates and location to be announced – possibly in the central Idaho mountains or Oregon.

For more info and to register:
https://blueplanetphoto.com/product-category/shop/photography-workshops-and-trips/

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2023 Workshops Update

Iceland – only 1 or 2 spots left! May 19-28

If you would like to go with me to the south coast of Iceland, May 19-28, I have 1 or 2 spaces remaining. This is a trip for photography, and we’ll have 19 hours of daylight with the remaining in twilight. So there will be 24-hour opportunities. We’ll visit the famous Vestrahorn, some glaciers, Jokulsarlon and the black beach of Reynisfjara, Vestmannaeyjar (Westman Islands) to photograph puffins and the Viking Church, hot springs and, of course, waterfalls (Skogafoss, Gullfoss, Seljalandsfoss, Urridafoss, and more). Finishing in Reykjavik for walks in downtown (all the building artwork) and a visit to the beautiful Harpa Concert Hall and Hallgrimskirkja church. Interested individuals or couples should contact me ASAP. For more information and to register, check out: Iceland Workshop

Kyrgyzstan, June 2-14, only 2 spots remain!

Following the Iceland Workshop is nothern Kyrgyzstan, June 2-14. I have 2 spots available for this workshop. Also, contact me ASAP if you are interested. I and some Iceland participants will arrive in the capital Bishkek on May 30 to spend the intervening days exploring the city and surrounds prior to the workshop. During the workshop, with co-lead Tim Vollmer, we’ll visit the highlands, lakes, and mountains of northern Kyrgyzstan, meet the people, stay in a yurt a couple nights, photograph the Berkutchi (falconers who hunt with golden eagles) and the various styles of architecture, old and new. Information, itinerary, and registration are at the link.

My other workshops are still open and available. You can see them all Here.

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2023 Photography Workshops

Join me in 2023 for any or all of the following workshops. Two of them, Kyrgyzstan and Romania, will be with my friend Tim Vollmer. I will be adding some local Idaho workshops soon. If you’d like to keep up with my class and workshop schedule, please subscribe to my monthly newsletter in the right margin or via the newsletter link on my webpage header.

Go HERE for more information and to register for any workshop:
March 21-28 Central Oregon Coast
April 17-23 White Sands National Park, New Mexico
May 19-28 Iceland
Jun 2-14 Kyrgyzstan
Aug 23-Sep 1 Scotland: Isle of Skye
Sep 9-19 Italy: Dolomites & Venice
Sep 20-Oct 1 Romania
Oct 13-15 Annular Solar Eclipse, Nevada
Oct 19-29 Iceland
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Photography vs Photograph, Part III

Part III

But for me photography is essentially not about art, society, or representation; I find seeing is essentially solitary, and photography is one of the emblems of that solitude
James Elkins, What Photography Is, 2011

The photograph is as complex a thing as the gesture of photography (as I’ve defined them in the previous two parts). The photograph, as Ansel Adams stated, is the performance, from the culmination of the preparation, practice, seeing, and imagination of the photographer. It is also the product of the use of the mechanical device of the camera recording the quality, quantity, and color of light reflected from, transmitted through, emanating from, and wrapped around the elements that lie before them. A photograph is a means of expression, artistically or otherwise, a way to communicate a concept, emotion, instruction, evidence, in a form and detail other types of communication lack. A photograph can be fact or entirely false or lie somewhere in between, can deceive, persuade, or inspire, but almost always serves as a prompt to memory, whether the memory is directly related to the content of the photograph or not. Photographs are part of our legacy, what we leave behind as our footprint marking our passage, A way for our descendants to know something about us when we can’t speak to them directly.

A photograph is both an image and a thing. As a thing, the photograph is part of the material culture of photography, something physical we hold in our hands, put in books and albums, burn, tear up, write on, send to loved ones, put in frames and hang on walls. When asked what possessions they would rescue from a burning home, one of the most frequent answers is photographs. We grieve when they are lost, as if part of our memory, our past, or our accomplishments has been taken. Most of the photographs made during the 19th Century have not survived to the present. Those that do still exist have acquired a value well beyond their original intent. Many of those surviving photographs have no more information to them than the image, no place, time, or name. Who are these orphaned people? What is their legacy?

In 2014, more photographs were made than in the 100 years of the 19th Century. In 2022, it’s estimated that 54,400 photographs were made worldwide EVERY SECOND, 196 million every hour, 172 TRILLION photographs in that year alone. These numbers are increasing. In 2014, the number of photographs made was a little over 1 trillion. It’s likely many of those photographs made in 2022 did not survive the year, and most will likely not survive another 20 years, never venturing beyond taking up space on a memory card or hard drive, lost during a power outage, hardware failure, or accidental hard drive formatting. The digital photograph is much more fragile than the analog photograph and film of history.

The photograph as image is the content representing the context in which the photograph was made, interpreted by the photographer and current culture, whether that is today or decades from now. The photographic image can be used differently than the physical print, especially in these days of electronic images. A physical print has a front where the image is and a back where information about the image can be placed. An electronic image may have meta data embedded into the file or in a separate location. If those parts, the image file and the associated sidecar .xml data file or other data file, for example, are separated, knowledge about that image is lost. I would argue that most digital photographs made today do not have embedded meta data, even information about who the photographer is. But it’s easy, and almost habit, to write something on the back of a printed photograph. An ongoing philosophy is a photograph is not a photograph until it has physical form as a print, which then begs to be shown and displayed. Though a physical print in a drawer is the same as a digital file on a hard drive. But a physical print also begs some other questions, such as how large should it be, what type of surface and display (mat, frame, paper, canvas, glass, metal, wood, fabric), where should it be displayed (wall, wallet, photo album/book, magazine) and the location (home, gallery, coffeeshop, pop-up, art show)? What is the appropriate way to showcase your photograph once you’ve created it?

The use of photographic images is also quite varied, from family memories to advertising, education to forensics, photojournalism to art. These days the distinctions are becoming more arbitrary, with the exception of forensic photography, perhaps. Though given enough time separation from their creation and use, even some forensic photographs could be used for commercial applications or art.

The use and meaning of a photograph changes with time as it moves from place to place and hand to hand. A family snapshot today is history tomorrow, or art. The camera in the hands of the photographer creates what Henri Cartier-Bresson called “a sort of visual chronicle.” Roland Barthes called the camera “clocks for seeing.”

The first (surviving) photograph is by Joseph Nicephore Niepce of rooftops seen from his upstairs window in France, in 1826 or 1827, although there is evidence others made photographs as early as 1800 (Thomas Wegdewood) or earlier, but they did not survive. Niepce’s photograph, as it is, must be kept in a light-tight box to keep it from turning black from exposure. Once photography reached the public, around 1839, it took off. Everything was fair game for the camera. A list of “firsts.”

1826-27 first surviving photograph, Joseph Nicephore Niepce
1839 first portrait, a selfie
1840 first hoax photo, Hippolyte Bayard photographed himself as a drowned man, reportedly in protest against the French Academy for failing to recognize his contribution to photography in preference to Daguerre. So, perhaps also the first protest photograph.
1840 first photo of the moon
1840 first nude portrait
1843 first photo of a US president (John Quincy Adams, after being in office). The first sitting president to be photographed was James Polk, 1848)
1843 first photo book, Anna Atkins cyanotypes of algae
1844 first commercially printed book illustrated with photographs, The Pencil of Nature, Henry Fox Talbot, calotypes
1845 first photo of the sun
1847 first war photograph, Mexican-American War, photographer unk
1848 first news photograph and first photo printed in a newspaper (not the same photos)
1860 first aerial photo
1878-1886 Edweard Muybridge pioneered the photographic study of animal and human locomotion and high speed photography (chronophotography)
1879 Edweard Muybridge invents the zoopraxiscope, precursor to the movie projector
1882 first photograph of lightning
1931 electronic flash invented by Harold Edgerton
1946 first photograph from space, camera aboard a V-2 rocket from 65 miles up
1957 first digital photo
1976 first photograph from Mars
1985 first personal video camera
1988 first digitally-manipulated photograph, by Thomas Knoll (inventor of Photoshop)
1995 digital videotape
1997 first camera phone photo
2000 Apple’s iMovie

Imagine, today, a world without photographs. It’s almost impossible. Photographs have become an integral part of human culture, although such a photo-less world existed for hundreds of thousands of years of human culture before the invention of the camera. Our current world is stuffed full with photographic images of all sorts and the convergence of audio-visual technology and the ability to nearly instantly transmit digital images around the planet to billions of people in the 20th Century fundamentally changed the importance and prevalence of photographs and how people record, interpret, and interact with the world. There are many important, inspirational, and influential photographs. Creating a list of them is a subjective exercise like Top Songs of History. Everyone has their favorites. Here is a list of 25 I’ve compiled, not necessarily in order of importance, or complete:

1. View from a Window, 1826/27 Joseph Nicephore Niepce
2. Earthrise, 1968, Astronaut William Anders, Apollo 8
3. Blue Marble, 1972, Astronaut Jack Schmitt, Apollo 17
4. Falling Man, 2001, Richard Drew
5. Man Jumping Puddle, 1930, Henri Cartier-Bresson
6. Clearing Winter Storm, 1937, Ansel Adams
7. Mushroom Cloud over Nagasaki, 1945, Lt. Charles Levy, Bombardier
8. Tank Man, Tiananmen Square, 1989, Jeff Widener
9. Pillars of Creation, 1995, NASA Hubble Telescope
10. Deep Field, 2022, James Webb Space Telescope
11. The Terror of War, 1972, Nick Ut
12. Pale Blue Dot, 1990, NASA Voyager 1
13. Woman & Child Falling from Fire Escape, 1975, Stanley Foreman
14. Child Coal Miners, 1908, Lewis Hine
15. Tutokanula Pass, Yosemite, ~1880, Carleton Watkins
16. Men on the Moon, Buzz Aldrin by Neil Armstrong, in reflection), 1969
17. Little Rock Central High School, 1957, Elizabeth Eckford
18. Nelson Mandela Becomes President of South Africa, 1994, Walter Dhladhla
19. Starving Child and Vulture, 1993, Kevin Carter
20. Shell & Rock Arrangement 15S, 1931, Edward Weston
21. Horse in Motion, 1878, Edweard Muybridge
22. Bullet Through Apple, 1964, Harold Edgerton
23. Atomic Bomb Explosion, 1952, Harold Edgerton
24. Cotton Mill Girl, 1908, Lewis Hine
25. Migrant Mother, 1936, Dorothea Lange
26. Bonus – Black Hole, M87, 2019, Event Horizon Telescope collaboration

When photography was first introduced, photographs were perceived as a perfect documentary medium because the detail recorded by the mechanical camera left no question about the “truth” of the subject depicted in the photograph. “No one”, writes philosopher Susan Sontag, “takes an easel painting to be in any sense co-substantial with its subject; it only represents or refers. But a photograph is not only like its subject, a homage to the subject, it is part of, an expansion of, that subject; and a potent means of acquiring it, of gaining control over it. Photographs do more than redefine the stuff of ordinary experience (people, things, events, whatever we see – albeit differently, often inattentively – with natural vision) and add vast amounts of material that we never see at all.” From the beginning, though, the perception that the camera doesn’t lie has been exploited by charlatans, propagandists, advertisers, and others to persuade and influence. In 1861, a jeweler named William H. Mumler, accidentally made a portrait photograph on a previously-exposed negative plate. The result was a ghostly, superimposed image of a previous client. The resulting photograph was passed around as a gag, but eventually found its way into the hands of someone at The Herald of Progress, a spiritualist journal, who printed the photograph in the journal, and “spirit photography” was born. Mumler latched onto the opportunity, perfected his double exposure technique, and embellished his marketing with spiritualist rhetoric. For nearly two years, Mumler was a very successful spirit photographer, making portraits of clients and capturing the “spirits” of lost loved ones looking over the living. Spiritualists caught up in the phenomenon claimed the photos were scientific evidence of their belief in the afterlife. Mary Todd Lincoln, wife of Abraham Lincoln, was a client of Mumler’s.

In 1863, a doctor (perhaps someone who should have known better, but representative of the popularity of the fad) sat for a Mumler portrait. However, when he received his photo he recognized the “spirit” as someone who was still quite alive. The doctor led a campaign to discredit Mumler. Mumler was also sued but was acquitted. By then his reputation was ruined. Other spirit photographers popped up all over the country, capitalizing on the belief by consumers the photographs were real.

Photographs today are much more easily manipulated than 140 years ago, yet photographs are still widely believed to be factual records, or disbelieved based on the perception they have been altered, regardless to what degree. The interpretation of the photograph, its subject, content, meaning, is almost entirely the responsibility of the viewer. Interpretation is formed by the viewer’s own knowledge, understanding, experience, prejudice, with the subject and content, just as it is in the creation of the photograph by the photographer. A portrait can be disbelieved by the sitter if they perceive, or wish themselves perceived, differently than the camera reveals, just as a photograph of a landscape or event (UFO sighting) can be disbelieved – or believed to be true – based on the expectations of the viewer.

Once a photograph is “released into the wild”, control by the photographer, how the photographer intended the photograph to be received and interpreted, is lost. The job of the photographer is to include in the photograph enough clues and information to solidify the intended meaning or message, whether it be factual or fanciful. Revealing the methodology used to make the photograph, especially in the fields of photojournalism and science/engineering/forensics, allows for “peer review” and assessment of the validity of the photography. Such a statement is also useful for differentiating the photograph as a type of art. Even manipulated artworks would benefit from a simple statement regarding the type of manipulation, such as sky replacement, composite, or element removal for clarity.

Obvious manipulations probably don’t need any such declaration, though there will always be someone who points out the manipulation or who thinks it’s real. Though what constitutes manipulation has also been debated since the beginning. Henri Cartier-Bresson went so far as to oppose the use of flash for a photograph, “if only out of respect for the actual light – even when there isn’t any of it. Unless a photographer observes such conditions as these, he may become an intolerably aggressive character.” László Moholy-Nagy, in 1923, expressed the problem and benefit with photography, photographers, and photographs: “The photograph enables us to experience space in new ways through an enlargement and sublimation of our appreciation of time and space and the perception of our surroundings, and its existence, with new eyes…The camera allowed for phenomena imperceptible to the human eye to be perceived, revealing aspects of existence never before seen or contemplated.” Edward Weston, in his Daybooks, Vol II, wrote in 1932, that “The variety of options available to the photographer for self-expression beyond the exact reproduction of subject/scene by the machine of the camera, give the photographer a myriad of possibilities for personal choice – one has far greater opportunity for self-expression through material opportunity than is granted the painter. The trouble has been with photographers, not photography!…for to produce work of any value in any line of creative endeavor, one must bore into the spirit of today. Old ideals are crashing on all sides, and the precise uncompromising camera vision is, and will be made so, a world force in the revaluation of life.”

The gesture of photography and the making of photographs provide one way for the discovery of oneself at the same time of exploring the world. The two processes are separate and interconnected, with intent and meaning, knowledge and experience important, even critical, components of both. Photography can mold us through the act and by viewing and discussing photographs. Photography, as I’ve described before, can be a Way of Life, not just professionally, but personally and experientially; a gateway to exploration and personal growth. Photography is a mode of specialized and personalized communication. Ansel Adams eloquently stated “When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.” The photographs left behind are a record of the time, a visual chronicle of a person’s experience and existence in the world, a view of the culture and associated events, and a story of each generation for future humans to view, interpret, and learn from. There is much more about photography and photographs, a treasure trove of information waiting to be learned, explored, and discovered. Review the history, read past and current interpretations, view photographs, explore and reflect on your own part in all this, and above all, engage in photography and make photographs.

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Photography vs Photograph, Part II

Part II

What makes photography a strange invention – with unforeseeable consequences – is that its primary raw materials are light and time. – John Berger

We can probably agree there are many different perceptions/concepts/philosophies about photography. Otherwise, we wouldn’t still be having these discussions. Similar discussions to those that began in the 1800s and are renewed at each inflection point in the evolution of photography: the initial introduction of the technology, painting and drawing vs photography, realism vs pictorialism, digital vs analog, mirror vs mirrorless, and now the introduction of “artificial intelligence” in image making and image processing. We’re still trying to resolve, whether for ourselves as individual photographers or in an attempt to create a type of “general theory” of photography, the relationships between the photographer, the device (camera), and the photograph, in addition to the viewers and interpretations of photographs. In this Part II, I’ll discuss the act of photography and aspects of the relationship between the photographer and the camera. In Part III, I’ll address the photograph.

“A photograph needs an audience. Or does it?” – Ted Orland, The View from the Studio Door

As a reminder, I stated for simplicity in Part I, and to distinguish between the two parts of the title, photography is a process and the photograph is a thing. A somewhat controversial concept might be that a photograph isn’t even a required component of photography. The process of making the photographic exposure alone could be enough for the photographer to gain pleasure and personal growth. And, at least, showing your photographs to others isn’t a requirement to call yourself a photographer or to receive something from photography. An example is Vivian Maier, who photographed for years and never had her film developed. Not everyone will agree. Henri Cartier-Bresson even said “My passion has never been for photography ‘in itself,’ but for the possibility – through forgetting yourself – of recording in a fraction of a second the emotion of the subject, and the beauty of the form; that is, a geometry awakened by what’s offered.” For HCB, the process was a means to an end; the capture of the subject, like the capture of a prey. But this dichotomy of photography is different from most every other art form where the process nearly always results in something physical.

In most art forms the process and the product are inseparable. You can’t paint without making a painting or carve a piece of stone or wood without making a sculpture (quibbles over definitions of painting and sculpture aside). Painting, drawing, pottery, and carving are words describing both the action and the product. Photography, and photographing, are words describing an activity during which the photographer is doing something toward the eventual making of a photograph. This activity involves a wide range of things the photographer does, sometimes well before finger depresses shutter release: researching subjects, thinking about the subject, processing memories or life in general, exploring locations, observing the light, observing the subject and color, shadow, form, and texture, juxtaposition, balance, subject and compositional element relationships, etc., thinking about and reviewing past photographs and their strengths and weaknesses, reading, listening to music, talking with other photographers, friends, strangers, etc. All of these activities inform and influence the eventual photograph, whether the photographer is consciously thinking of these elements at the time of exposure or not. The process of photography doesn’t just happen when you have your camera in hand searching for something pretty or interesting or funny to snap. Regardless if I have my camera or not, when I’m looking I’m seeing photographs. As I’m scanning the environment I’m “cropping” various parts of the scenes in my mind, “zooming” in and out with an imaginary lens, examining arrangements, isolating, including, exploring relationships. This prepares me for when I do have my camera, searching for subjects to photograph and looking through the viewfinder. This process not only applies to photography, but also to every other art form, and to just being. Awareness and observation of your surroundings makes things more interesting than succumbing to sensory adaptation.

Photographers (and viewers) often think of photography and photographs as indistinguishable parts of the process; one cannot exist without the other. In a sense, this is true. But, the process of photography and the making of the photograph can be broken down into sets of discrete steps and, thus, separated from one another as distinct but interconnected processes. I’ve described the steps (phases) of photography in other texts; they are Exploration, Isolation, Organization, and Exposure. The steps involved in the photograph are Exposure/Ingestion (digital download), Edit, Process, Print, and Display.

The camera, the photographer’s primary tool for making photographs, and its operation, can also be addressed separately with a list of discrete steps for both photographer and camera and in which photography becomes a subset of the individual. Photography, for some, becomes a way of being, a way of interacting with the world. The steps in camera operation are, generally, Observe, Compose, Focus, Settings, Expose. There is overlap with the final step of camera operation, Expose, and the photography process. Exposure, the press of the shutter release, is the culmination of a number of factors leading to that particular moment that can take seconds or years to reach. Those factors are specific to the individual: Experience, Skill, Knowledge, Prejudice and Bias, Goals, and Intent (past, present, and future). All aspects of the processes of photography, photographer, camera, and photograph are interrelated, overlap, and the relationships between them are circular, or web-like. Rarely is the line from inspiration/conception/idea/influence to finished image a straight one. The camera (using the word as a catch-all including all other photographic equipment), different from tools of other art forms, has almost from the beginning of photography taken over the definition of photography. I’m not aware of any other art form other than digital illustration and some aspects of music, where the primary device for creating the art receives as much, and sometimes more, attention than the art or the artist, and for which an entire industry has been developed. Where are the paintbrush and typewriter websites, magazines and podcasts?

Well-known photographers Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, Minor White, Mary Ellen Mark, Man Ray, Yousuf Karsh, and many others, wrote and spoke about the photographer’s relationship with equipment. The general consensus among these photographers is the photographer makes the photograph, not the equipment. But the camera, its type/format, brand, capabilities, accessories, etc. is often at the forefront of many discussions and inquiries about photographs and photographers. Vilem Flusser (1920-1991), in his book Toward a Philosophy of Photography (1984), asks a question “is a human being in possession of a camera, or a camera in possession of a human being?” We see it in photography quite often, especially with questions from photographers and non-photographers alike when viewing photographs; what camera did you use?, what lens did you use?, what were your settings?, what software/action/preset did you use?, as if the equipment is the key to making the photograph interesting or beautiful and duplication in another time and place will produce the same result. We all know the photographer who is defined by their gear, who must have the latest and greatest equipment, but their photographs are maybe not up to par with their arsenal. But that’s not entirely what Flusser means when asking the question.

Our equipment does partially dictate what and how we photograph. In the act or gesture of photography the camera does the will of the photographer, but the photographer can only photograph what can be photographed given the capabilities of the camera and the light-sensitive medium the camera uses to record the energy from photons. Even if we have all the funds available at our disposal to acquire all the equipment we need, our photographs are still limited by the capabilities of the gear we hold in our hand at the time of making the exposure. We’re still limited by the field of view and depth of field of the lens, of the size of the image sensor or film stock, the noise and grain of sensor and film, the dynamic range of light recorded by sensor or film, the weight of camera equipment, the availability of accessories and the cost of cameras and accessories, etc., in addition to our own skill and knowledge to operate that equipment to the best of our ability.

Flusser categorizes the camera’s possession of the photographer by defining two types of images, traditional and technical. Traditional images are symbols which come directly from observations of the real world, made by the “hand of the artist” from original and unique expressions of experience and interpretations “in the [artist’s] head”. Prehistoric cave painting is his example. I think modern painting, drawing, pottery, sculpting, and other art forms made directly by the hand of the artist would fit the definition of traditional images as well. Technical images are made by apparatuses (cameras, for our purpose of discussion) which are twice removed from the hand and mind of the artist through the programming, mechanics, and limitations of the camera. Technical images are also infinitely reproducible by apparatuses (printers or darkroom reproduction) where traditional images are one of a kind. Flusser views the camera only superficially analogous to artist tools like the paintbrush. The paintbrush or chisel and the resulting artwork is directly connected to the mind of the artist through the hand, whereas the complex programming, capabilities and limitations of the camera intervene between the artist and the photograph. In the photograph, we only indirectly see the hand and mind of the photographer because the photographer’s observation of the real world, the internal traditional image, is abstracted and controlled by the capabilities and limitations of the apparatus, the camera.

John Berger (1926-2017), in Understanding A Photograph, adds that the invention of the lightweight, automatic, camera changed the process of making photographs (and art, in a general sense) from a ritual (taking time to observe, set up, wait, expose) to a simple reflex – point and shoot. This resonates with me because when I was learning photography I wanted to photograph using medium and large format cameras, but didn’t have the funds for the equipment. So when I was learning the process of photography using 35mm, I treated the camera as if it was medium or large format, taking time to observe and set up the shot, to make the exposure count, rather than “spray and pray” then pick out the best and “fix it in Photoshop.” Make the photograph in the camera as much as possible. That has always been my philosophy and practice.

In what Flusser calls the gesture of photography, the act of making a photograph is a sequence of events during which the photographer overcomes several barriers or hurdles. At each barrier (what subject to choose, composition to select, settings to use, can my camera record this scene as I envision it, should I ask for permission?…) there is a hesitation. Each hesitation is an opportunity for doubt and an interruption of concentration, awareness, and flow. Photographing is a start-stop process, especially when first learning photography. Experience removes some of the doubt, some of the hesitation, but not all. At some point we have to make the decision when to press the shutter. Because of the multitude of choices available when selecting and composing a photograph, there is no real “decisive moment,” except in the mind and intent of the photographer. Cartier-Bresson even points out the photographer needs to stay with the moment, even after thinking the strongest image has been made; to keep shooting in case something else develops with that particular situation. But to avoid “shooting like a machine-gunner” which produces needless waste and exactness about the portrayal of the event, all the while remembering there are no do-overs.

The act of photographing, the gesture, is the experience, the journey, the discovery by the photographer in researching the subject, traveling (near or far), the personal growth inherent in exploring new places, meeting new people, encountering and working through challenges, fears, and biases, and the satisfaction of the learning process, whether you achieve your intent or not. I think we learn at least a little more from not meeting expectations than from our successes, though arguments can be made for the opposite. The process of photography, for me, is a mechanism to living a Way of Life, a way of experiencing the world and interpreting it; not necessarily interpreting it for you (which is something I once told people as a bit of a conceit and marketing ploy – as if I somehow had a better sense of what you needed to know or see better than you did) but interpreting the world for me. The journey, for me, is at least as important as the destination, because the destination is a moving target. I doubt I’ll ever reach it, or even discover what that destination is. My process of photographing, the way I think about it, approach making photographs, how I see the world, is different than yours. There might be similarities, but they aren’t exactly alike and can be very different. That’s great. Diversity makes life interesting. I like to share my journey and for those who want to come along, in person or through my photographs, I welcome you.

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Photography vs Photograph, Part I

This is the first of a three part essay exploring the different aspects and understanding of the act, or gesture, of photography, the photographer, and the photograph. I use material from Vilem Flusser, John Berger, Henri-Cartier Bresson, Ted Orland, and others to describe and comment on the different ways photography and photographs are perceived. This is one way to look at it. You’re going to have something different to being to the discussion or you’ll learn something new. We’re learning all the time.

Part I

Photography, like any artistic practice, is a multi-faceted activity involving materials, equipment, process, learning, technique, philosophy, a few other things, and the making of physical or otherwise visual representations of the photons recorded by the camera which, whether on film or digital sensor, are at first not visible to anyone (reviews on the camera screen notwithstanding). In this and the next one or two newsletters, I’m going to write about some different philosophies or approaches to the concept of photography versus photograph; the interconnected but also separate ideas of the process of photography and the product of the photograph. As you might already know or guess, there are, and have been, several different ideas throughout history about photography, its purpose, how it should be done, presented, and thought about, as well as the impact, importance, and relevance to the society, culture, and technology of the day. It’s a pretty big bundle to unwrap.

I’m going to focus, or try to, on just the concepts of photography and the photograph. There is spillover into other aspects of both, and I’ll try to keep that to only directly relevant offshoots. First, definitions. Photography I’ll consider to be the process involved in most of the activities NOT related to the creation of a physical photograph. I define the photograph as the physical or visual representation of a photographic image, whether that is a darkroom print, digital print, digital display, or some other physical or visual representation. In general, to keep the concepts as separated as possible for clarity of discussion, I’ll treat the image of the photograph as different from the process of photography. But first, we might need to delve into a brief overview of the long history of photography.

In some ways, photography has come a long way since its recognizable beginnings in the early 19th Century, while in other ways it has remained much the same. The arguments for and against photography and photographs in the 1800s are much the same in the 2000s; technological advances haven’t changed those arguments much but, in some cases, it has amplified them. The pursuit of photographs came about as a means to accurately record what we were looking at. The camera obscura, the first rudimentary camera device, or pinhole camera, required an operator to trace an image projected onto glass or onto a surface in a darkened room. The accuracy of the illustration depended on the patience and skill of the individual making the drawing, the technology used to create the quality of the camera obscura image (bare pinhole versus lens), and environmental conditions: the sun had to be shining for a bright enough image to be projected on the tracing surface. The camera obscura was first built and used in 1100AD by Persian (now Iraq) polymath Alhazen (Ibn al-Haytham) and used after that by several others in their process of discovering the properties of light. But the principle of the camera obscura was known since it was first described in 400 BC in China (Mozi) and 350 BC in Greece (Aristotle) and again in more detail by Leonardo da Vinci in 1550. Artists caught on to the usefulness of the camera obscura in the 15th Century, using the device to make drawings and paintings of landscapes, cityscapes, and portraits. There is evidence, though, suggesting pinhole images were used by prehistoric humans to make art as far back as 15,000 years ago. Light sensitive substances, such as chlorophyll from plants and other chemicals, were explored in the 16th Century, but it wasn’t until 1614 that an Italian chemist named Angelo Sala showed that silver nitrate, when coated on paper, darkened in the light of the sun. But, even though the camera obscura was in wide use by then, the two were not brought together until the 19th Century. So, the use of light sensitive chemistry to accurately record scenes and objects from the visible world is relatively new compared to other art forms like painting and sculpture.

The word photography was coined by Sir John Herschel, in 1839, from the Greek words photos, meaning “light”, and graphe, meaning “to draw or write”. As soon as the first permanent (more or less) image was made in 1839 (the date and maker of the first photograph is still debated today), photography became a much-argued technology. It continues to be debated today, regarding what constitutes photography or a photograph, and whether a photograph is actually art. For me, photography and the photograph are interconnected as part of a whole, an integrated process that includes both philosophy and practice, the metaphysical and the physical. But each can also stand on its own, separate from the other; photography doesn’t need to conclude as a photograph, and the photograph can be devoid of all but the technical and mechanical aspects of photography. Photography, capital P, is both art and science and can be a Way of life (in a Zen sense, as I describe in my podcast from a few years ago), or as Brooks Jensen, editor of Lenswork, describes in his podcast; a way of “living the Art life.”

This should provide a good foundation so far. I think this will be a three part essay. The general format will be to give an overview of the ideas of two or more individual’s thoughts on both the process of photography and the object of the photograph. These individuals will be photographers and non-photographers and will hopefully offer a broad look at how photography and photographs have been, and continue to be viewed in the world’s society. I’ll begin next time with philosopher Vilem Flusser (1920-1991) from his 1984 book, Towards a Philosophy of Photography, and critic, novelist and poet John Berger (1926-2017) from the 2013 book of his essays edited by Geoff Dyer, Understanding A Photograph. The remaining parts of this series will explore the thoughts of Edward Weston, Alfred Stieglitz, Ansel Adams, Ted Orland, David Bayles, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Paul Strand, Minor White, Gary Winogrand, Jay Maisel, John Paul Caponigro, Jerry Uelsmann, and others. In the end, I hope you might have an appreciation of photography in a different way than you may now, and maybe a deeper understanding of the history of photography as well as something to think about regarding your own exploration of this art form and practice.