DIGITAL MANIPULATION :: IS IT STILL A PHOTOGRAPH?
pho·to·graph 
(fō'tə-grāf') Pronunciation Key
n. An image, especially a positive print, recorded by a camera and reproduced on a photosensitive surface.
photograph. Dictionary.com. The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/photograph (accessed: January 07, 2008).
Constant and frequently heated are the exchanges in both conversation and written diatribe regarding an increased blurring of the line between what constitutes a photograph versus digital art. As the field of photography grows increasingly digital, reliance on digital photo manipulation tools, such as Adobe Photoshop®, becomes more of a necessity, giving rise to what seems to be a new genre of digital art.
Granted digital art has been around for quite some time. Computer Aided Design, or CAD, began as a drafting tool almost 50 years ago. Those systems were highly specialized and available only to the largest of corporations, primarily in the electronics, automobile and aerospace industries. With the advent of desktop computing, the demand for software capable of facilitating most any form of artistic expression rocketed skyward, launching an entirely new field of Desktop Publishing and transforming not only photography, but the entire publishing and printing industries.
Many fear that the use of digital tools ultimately spells doom for the field of photography. In the December 10, 2007 issue of Newsweek magazine, writer Peter Plagens asks the fearful question: Is Photography Dead? Plagens' final assumption is that photography has lost, or is at least in danger of losing, its connection with reality and can only be saved by regaining that surety.
Plagens' thesis is hardly a new one. Almost from the time a photograph was first scanned and re-touched there have been that group of photographers, both old and new, who eschew any form of digital manipulation. Listening to these most often passionate, if not sometimes pretentious arguments, one might get the impression that the whole concept of photographic re-touching is a rather recent phenomenon, threatening to undermine the entire field of photography. According to the standards set by such stalwarts, a photograph is only that specific image precisely as captured by the camera; that any form of manipulation transforms the image to digital art.
If one takes such a narrow argument to heart, there likely has not been a true photograph gracing the cover of any fashion magazine for the last 50 years. Almost from the very beginnings of photography, those sequestered in darkrooms have been searching for ways to correct errors and flaws in an image. Prior to every camera coming equipped with preview monitors affixed to their backs, photographers had little assistance in knowing whether their lighting and camera settings would produce the desired results. The introduction of Polaroids® helped reduce some of the guess work, but the difference in light sensitivity and grain tightness assured that color labs and photo editors would have plenty of work to do before a magazine cover ever saw the light of day.
Consider this very unique image from the cover of Vogue UK, August 1949. Unfortunately, Vogue's archives don't tell us who the photographer was, but considering the challenges of color photography and printing at the time, this most striking image is quite an accomplishment. Could the image have come directly out of the camera with the colors so brilliant and the model's skin so flawless? Perhaps, given extreme attention to detail and a tremendous amount of luck. More than likely, though, it was very careful darkroom processing that gives the image its sharp transitions from light to dark while keeping vibrancy in the colors.
Vogue's covers have changed dramatically over the years, but compare that image from almost 60 years ago with Lachlan Bailey's current February 2008 cover, or even this poor scan of David Miller's September 1973 cover. Don't be fooled by the graininess in the low resolution scan. Miller's cover was just as highly polished, his photograph just as diligently processed as Bailey's. If anything, processing the current cover likely took less time and effort than either the 1973 or 1949 covers. To claim that re-touching diminishes the value of a photograph, or even takes away an image's status as a photograph, is preposterous.
So, where does one draw the line? When does a photograph become over-processed to the point it is no longer a photograph, or is such even possible?
There seems to be a desire to quantify some percentage, some level at which the amount of added material exceeds the amount of original photography. Yet, who is to say what constitutes "too much?" One's personal taste is much too subjective and biased to be uniformly applicable, while any attempt at hard-line quantification is going to run afoul of myriad justifiable exemptions. Does an image that began as a photograph truly ever cease being a photograph?
Certainly, there is a danger here wherein CGI capabilities may one day soon give us the ability to do completely away with models and actors in the traditional sense. People in green suits photographed on green screens with motions recorded by digital tethers may soon make a subject's physical appearance irrelevant. Perhaps this is the fearful end against which Plagens warns. One must question, however, whether such fear holds any practical basis. While CGI construction is helpful within the motion picture industry, for still photography it makes little practical sense. If one is going to construct an image so thoroughly from non-photographic sources, including facial and body architecture, why bother taking the photograph at all? CGI only needs the green-suited figures to ensure accuracy of motion, not presence of form. If the entire figure in a still image is to be fictional, starting with a photograph may well be counter-productive.
Plagen's fear that photography is losing its grip on reality may be akin to early reactions to Picasso's cubism. If all the various forms and methods of painting have taught us anything, it is that it is one's perception of reality, not reality itself, that defines an image. To say that a digitally-altered image is any less a photograph is like saying Picasso's painting of photographer Dora Maar Au Chaut is any less a portrait than Rembrandt's depiction of Johannes Wtenbogaert. One can argue until one's face turns blue that the Rembrandt is more real than the Picasso, yet all the remonstrance in the world does not change the fact that both are merely expressions of the artists' perception, and one is neither more or less real than the other.
Similarly, one might be tempted to claim that it is the degree of reality that defines a photograph, but in as much as digital manipulation is merely an expression of the artist's perception of reality, a photograph remains a photograph regardless of the number of filters and alterations the soul sitting at the computer might apply. We are, after all, captive to the limitations of our own vision. The more we explore the expression of others, regardless of its form or manipulation, the better suited we are to explore and understand how we see the world for ourselves.
Digital manipulation is no more the death of photography than cubism, pointalism, abstraction, impressionism, or tonalism have been the death of painting. While one style and method may be markedly different than another, all are justifiable. One can only anticipate that the field of photography will see even more methods of alteration as the world, and reality, continue to evolve, and photographers will do well to considerately embrace each new method as a productive member of the photographic family.
(fō'tə-grāf') Pronunciation Keyn. An image, especially a positive print, recorded by a camera and reproduced on a photosensitive surface.
photograph. Dictionary.com. The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/photograph (accessed: January 07, 2008).
Constant and frequently heated are the exchanges in both conversation and written diatribe regarding an increased blurring of the line between what constitutes a photograph versus digital art. As the field of photography grows increasingly digital, reliance on digital photo manipulation tools, such as Adobe Photoshop®, becomes more of a necessity, giving rise to what seems to be a new genre of digital art.
Granted digital art has been around for quite some time. Computer Aided Design, or CAD, began as a drafting tool almost 50 years ago. Those systems were highly specialized and available only to the largest of corporations, primarily in the electronics, automobile and aerospace industries. With the advent of desktop computing, the demand for software capable of facilitating most any form of artistic expression rocketed skyward, launching an entirely new field of Desktop Publishing and transforming not only photography, but the entire publishing and printing industries.
Many fear that the use of digital tools ultimately spells doom for the field of photography. In the December 10, 2007 issue of Newsweek magazine, writer Peter Plagens asks the fearful question: Is Photography Dead? Plagens' final assumption is that photography has lost, or is at least in danger of losing, its connection with reality and can only be saved by regaining that surety.
Plagens' thesis is hardly a new one. Almost from the time a photograph was first scanned and re-touched there have been that group of photographers, both old and new, who eschew any form of digital manipulation. Listening to these most often passionate, if not sometimes pretentious arguments, one might get the impression that the whole concept of photographic re-touching is a rather recent phenomenon, threatening to undermine the entire field of photography. According to the standards set by such stalwarts, a photograph is only that specific image precisely as captured by the camera; that any form of manipulation transforms the image to digital art.
If one takes such a narrow argument to heart, there likely has not been a true photograph gracing the cover of any fashion magazine for the last 50 years. Almost from the very beginnings of photography, those sequestered in darkrooms have been searching for ways to correct errors and flaws in an image. Prior to every camera coming equipped with preview monitors affixed to their backs, photographers had little assistance in knowing whether their lighting and camera settings would produce the desired results. The introduction of Polaroids® helped reduce some of the guess work, but the difference in light sensitivity and grain tightness assured that color labs and photo editors would have plenty of work to do before a magazine cover ever saw the light of day.
Consider this very unique image from the cover of Vogue UK, August 1949. Unfortunately, Vogue's archives don't tell us who the photographer was, but considering the challenges of color photography and printing at the time, this most striking image is quite an accomplishment. Could the image have come directly out of the camera with the colors so brilliant and the model's skin so flawless? Perhaps, given extreme attention to detail and a tremendous amount of luck. More than likely, though, it was very careful darkroom processing that gives the image its sharp transitions from light to dark while keeping vibrancy in the colors.
Vogue's covers have changed dramatically over the years, but compare that image from almost 60 years ago with Lachlan Bailey's current February 2008 cover, or even this poor scan of David Miller's September 1973 cover. Don't be fooled by the graininess in the low resolution scan. Miller's cover was just as highly polished, his photograph just as diligently processed as Bailey's. If anything, processing the current cover likely took less time and effort than either the 1973 or 1949 covers. To claim that re-touching diminishes the value of a photograph, or even takes away an image's status as a photograph, is preposterous.
So, where does one draw the line? When does a photograph become over-processed to the point it is no longer a photograph, or is such even possible?
There seems to be a desire to quantify some percentage, some level at which the amount of added material exceeds the amount of original photography. Yet, who is to say what constitutes "too much?" One's personal taste is much too subjective and biased to be uniformly applicable, while any attempt at hard-line quantification is going to run afoul of myriad justifiable exemptions. Does an image that began as a photograph truly ever cease being a photograph?
Certainly, there is a danger here wherein CGI capabilities may one day soon give us the ability to do completely away with models and actors in the traditional sense. People in green suits photographed on green screens with motions recorded by digital tethers may soon make a subject's physical appearance irrelevant. Perhaps this is the fearful end against which Plagens warns. One must question, however, whether such fear holds any practical basis. While CGI construction is helpful within the motion picture industry, for still photography it makes little practical sense. If one is going to construct an image so thoroughly from non-photographic sources, including facial and body architecture, why bother taking the photograph at all? CGI only needs the green-suited figures to ensure accuracy of motion, not presence of form. If the entire figure in a still image is to be fictional, starting with a photograph may well be counter-productive.
Plagen's fear that photography is losing its grip on reality may be akin to early reactions to Picasso's cubism. If all the various forms and methods of painting have taught us anything, it is that it is one's perception of reality, not reality itself, that defines an image. To say that a digitally-altered image is any less a photograph is like saying Picasso's painting of photographer Dora Maar Au Chaut is any less a portrait than Rembrandt's depiction of Johannes Wtenbogaert. One can argue until one's face turns blue that the Rembrandt is more real than the Picasso, yet all the remonstrance in the world does not change the fact that both are merely expressions of the artists' perception, and one is neither more or less real than the other.
Similarly, one might be tempted to claim that it is the degree of reality that defines a photograph, but in as much as digital manipulation is merely an expression of the artist's perception of reality, a photograph remains a photograph regardless of the number of filters and alterations the soul sitting at the computer might apply. We are, after all, captive to the limitations of our own vision. The more we explore the expression of others, regardless of its form or manipulation, the better suited we are to explore and understand how we see the world for ourselves.
Digital manipulation is no more the death of photography than cubism, pointalism, abstraction, impressionism, or tonalism have been the death of painting. While one style and method may be markedly different than another, all are justifiable. One can only anticipate that the field of photography will see even more methods of alteration as the world, and reality, continue to evolve, and photographers will do well to considerately embrace each new method as a productive member of the photographic family.
posted by Charles at
10:20 AM
<< Home