see2think

thinking with pictures


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The “Leica-look” and life outside the lens

screenshot of leica lens photo in low, contrasty light

example of leica-look 3 factors, flickr.com/photos/kintagogo/859173959

Relying on the search algorithms of Google to turn up some clues to the praise that many photographers have for the ancestor of most 35mm cameras of the 20th century, and now also a non-Asian contender among top digital cameras, I typed into the searchbox “leica-look” and found a handful of articles in the first screenful of results. One writer summed things up nicely and even identified particular legacy and currently produced lens with express these attributes: sometimes using a very shallow depth of field (setting the aperture wide-open for lenses built with f-stops bigger than average), higher than average micro-contrast that heightens the separation of subject to background, and glow produced in highlights due to the lens glass, polishing, and arrangements of the elements in the lens. Photos that have these hallmarks usually are what people’s emotional response comes from in certain photos, whether made on film or digital sensor.

In the spirit of this blog that blurs literal vision by camera and more philosophical vision by thinking, this “leica-look” seems to lend itself to the wider arena of lived experience. The times in one’s life when the above factors come into play seem to create a sort of magical perspective or look, too. For example, a shallow depth of field in a photo boosts the visual experience of the subject, since the context fades from focus, making the central subject feel hyper-sharply focused. By contrast, the same frame and subject with deeper or even total depth-of-field from foreground to background may present the central subject with the identical sharpness as before, however because everything in the frame now is clearly in focus, the central subject no longer stands out relatively speaking. And so of one’s lived experience, too, when an event is unfolding or when one revisits it in hindsight (or looks forward to some future event imaginatively), then it will become relatively more intense when one’s mind’s eye perceives with shallow depth of field.

Similarly of the next attribute of the “leica-look,” micro contrast, it can be said that small degrees of contrast around the edges of lived experience produce larger feelings of significance, purpose, or value by comparison to the same lived experience in which no extra emphasis is added to define the edges of the subject. I can’t understand the optical calculation or mathematical narrative for what happens to light as it enters a certain lens having this high micro contrast, but the eye can see relative differences between such lenses.

Finally of the “leica-look” there is a hint of diffuse brightness in the highlight areas of certain pictures, especially for contrasty or point-source lighting conditions, and especially for shallow depth of field (wide apertures). In lived experience, too, the times when something is glowing (light, emotion, ambient praises or auspicious circumstances) contributes to the resulting memory and mental image of the subject. In combination with the other factors found in the “leica-look,” the total effect of these factors is to make the subject recorded in 2-dimensions somehow gain volume or mass and feel almost 3-dimensional. And also of lived experience, when these factors are present alone, or in combination, then the result is to make ordinary experience somehow richer, or somehow to gain volume and mass, standing out from the surrounding conditions.

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Light of limbo; time traveler

early evening photo of waterway and group of ducks

ducks at dusk near Funaoka shrine, Echizen-city, Fukui-ken, Japan (click image for full view)

Dusk is such a mysterious time The shadows and luminosity change perceptibly; and within just 45 minutes full daylight turns to semi-darkness. So one’s sense of time is challenged: no longer is there a feeling of ‘eternal present’ and the ordinariness of normality. Instead it becomes effortless to blur the boundary in one’s waking consciousness that usually so sharply separates present from past and future. This scene could easily be 2015 or 1950 or 1815, apart from the paved road and utility poles and wires.

Perhaps something similar happens in language learning. Once the fundamentals are mastered and one can interact with little effort in the new language, then a bit of blurring begins in the line that used to separate “us” and “them,” or “foreign” and “familiar.” It may become hard to remember whether a given conversation or source of  an idea was conducted in one’s first or second language as the two become more porous in one’s mind.

And again, from a different field for analogies, perhaps something similar happens in rising levels of proficiency and fluency in a sport, hobby, or other skill-based form of expression. As one picks up momentum, eventually the static parts begin to blend and produce a certain rhythm and pace which one can effortlessly transpose or move across and within. A dialog begins between oneself and the particular medium one is working in. In all these cases a similar blurring effect happens – blurring of chronological moment (orienting one’s place in the flow of time), blurring of self-perception in first and second languages, or the power of mastery that results in “flow” or effortless fluidity in the particular field of actions.