Verticals and horizontals impose some order, or at a least prominent pattern, to this view; order, not chaos.
Known for strong geometric arrangements in his “decisive moment” photographs, Henri Cartier-Bresson had a strong interest in geometry long before he held his first camera as a child. Many living photographers capture pictures strong on geometry, too: patterns of line, intersecting planes, masses of color or texture that establish a prominent pattern, and so on. This photo of the side of a convenience store has electrical conduit pipes attached to the wall. In between scattered clouds, the bright light at low morning angle shines like the beam of a spotlight onto the east-facing sides of the vertical conduit segments, making it stand out from the flat expanse of the wall even more than usual. It is worth asking why perpendiculars and angles of all sorts should attract the viewer’s eye, though.
One explanation could be the sometimes dramatic tension between forces of order and disorder; between entropy spiraling out of control and decay versus neg-entropy tending toward structure and growth. By this logic, a composition (music, visual art, or another form of creative expression) with prominent skeleton, foundation, or another dominant organizing structure presents something that the audience can readily fasten onto – attaching meaning, emotion, memory, or aspiration to the event or composition. By comparison, an example lacking in strong geometry may be harder to recognize significance, meaning, purpose, or pattern to relate to. In this abstract way of thinking, strong geometry “makes sense,” but vague or non-apparent patterns in a composition do not “make sense,” at least not right away.
This same dramatic tension between forces of focus versus blur, growth versus decay, clarity versus dissolution can be found outside the realm of optics and composition. It also applies to thinking and to communicating an idea with words, too. After all, a strong pattern, easy-to-follow series of logical statements, and convincing conclusion will be easier for a person to latch onto or follow the line of reasoning. By contrast, unclear structure or obscured pattern and lack of definite shape can detract from the person’s effort to engage in the subject. Whether it is the strong geometry of a visual composition or the bold design in a philosophical statement, patterns with clear structure allow readers or viewers to “make sense” of the matter most readily and to maximum satisfaction.
Winter sun passes low on the horizon from left to right, making spindle shadows shift, but the railing shadow preserves snow cover.
This morning photo shows the sun in the east as it begins the day’s passage across the sky to the west, causing the railing spindles’ shadow pattern to shift incrementally, minute by minute. However, the top of the deck railing casts a shadow that moves very little, by comparison. So now more than 24 hours since the light covering of snow fell, the part of the deck nearest to the camera lens, where sun shines throughout the day, has all melted and evaporated, leaving bare wood to dry in the low humidity winter air. Meanwhile, the long, wide strip of snow that has been shaded by the railing shows far less evaporation or melting.
With the winter light coming from a low angle in the south, it is no surprise that north-facing buildings or mountains will have unmelted snow long after the south and even east/west exposures have lost their accumulated snowflakes. This sheltering effect of shadow is similarly at play in the above photo with its sharply defined geometry of light and dark. Commonly, the part of a picture that is in shadow loses much detail and so, visually, it looks like an absence of information. In Japan’s bunraku puppet theater tradition, the black-clad assistants who articulate arms and legs soon pass unnoticed by the audience as it watches the unfolding drama between the puppet characters. Like living shadows the stage assistants to the puppet masters are visually absent from the scene. This photograph’s shadow, in contrast, does not subtract from the composition. It functions as a shield to block the sun from melting the snow. As a result of this shade, the effect of the shadow is not absence, but instead presence. It adds snow to the scene. Because of the left to right arrangement of the shadow, the snow remains visible in a line. Looking at the picture in this way, what usually is viewed as absence of information can produce the opposite appearance sometimes, too: the day-long dark line shelters the snow so that it can persist long after the rest is gone.
Turning from visual composition and properties of light-dark combinations, perhaps there are times when thinking about the world that a lack of information, an absence of illumination, or hard to see details can paradoxically produce something positive; making something present that otherwise would not have lasted in full light. For example, when solving an algebra problem there will be an unknown element that is named “X” for the time being so that an equation can be written and then the solution to X can be discovered. Instead of forcing one potential solution into the unknown gap by trial and error, it is better to accept the unknown X and proceed without the missing information. That way the final answer can be produced. In the arena of committee meetings, sometimes an unknown element is identified, but then the chairperson sets it aside: “let’s put that issue in the parking lot for now and then circle back around again to it later.” Here, again, when there is a lack of information or something is obscured by shadow, by leaving that dark area as it is, then events can proceed and something positive can result. Thus, shaded things can be BOTH an absence and a presence.
HDR (high dynamic range) is understood by more and more people whose camera settings allow this option as automatically applied when extremes of bright and shadow appear in the frame, or as a user-controlled setting for applying a particular amount of correction to the exposure. A generation ago, the photographer of HDR had to take several different exposures and merge them into a single composition during post-production. But now the camera shoots metered (balanced) exposure, as well as one shot underexposed (to compensate for brightest parts of the scene lost during “normal” exposure) and one shot overexposed (to compensate for the darkest parts of the scene lost during “normal” exposure). Far less familiar to photographers and viewers is the opposite of HDR; that is, low dynamic range. LDR photos, like “low-fi” or low-definition pictures, attract far fewer afficionados. Instead, the technical standards press for higher and higher degrees of high-definition.
In the above picture of breadcrumbs on a plate near a kitchen window the partly cloudy weather created changing illumination of the subject. The right-hand lighting shows the big contrast and strongly defined shadow on the far side of the plate. The light value in the foreground is maybe 8 or 9 f-stops brighter than the darkest part of the shadow portion. Turning to the left-hand exposure, lit more gently and evenly as the sunlight passed through a cloud layer, the range in light values is only 3 or 4 f-stops, perhaps. Thinking about the differences in the LDR and HDR lighting shown here, several impressions stand out. First is the color temperature: despite same camera and lens, and the recording only a few minutes apart, the cloud-lit picture on the left is bluish relative to the one lit by full mid-day sun. Or putting the color cast the other way around, the sunlit picture is warmer, more orangey, than the lefthand photo. Second is the dramatic effect of texture emphasized by the strong shadows visible in the sunlit view of the crumbs on the plate. Third is the continuous or contiguous effect of smooth, even, soft lighting that is diffused by the cloud cover. That is to say, whereas the contrasty view makes the shadow section separate from the bight section of the plate, in the cloudy lighting every part of the plate connects seamlessly with the rest; there is now a distinct break. Fourth is a matter of depth of field. In this experiment the aperture of f-14 remained the same, so depth of field did not change. But if the camera had been set to automatic exposure, then the brighter scene would likely use f-16 or 20, therefore giving the sunlit picture a wider field of focus. Stated the other way, an automatic exposure would probably have reacted to the lower amount of light from cloud cover by turning to a larger opening of the aperture to f-11 or f-8, for example, thus producing a view that puts a narrower slice of the scene into focus. Fifth is emotional response: strong light on a colorful scene suggests a cheerful atmosphere, whereas the dull light diffused by the cloud cover is altogether calmer and quieter somehow. Sixth, and most specific to pictures containing a very wide dynamic range (recorded by merging multiple frames at differing exposure setting or photographed as a single frame at just one exposure setting), when a viewer is presented with light values stretching across 8 or 10 f-stops, the net effect is something akin to a symphonic experience of music. A performance with just one or two octaves played by just one or two instruments is a much more limited sound experience than something much wider in musical pitches and played on dozens of different instruments. Using another analogy, the left side of the above photo is akin to a shallow breath of air – sustaining but unremarkable. But the brightly lit photo is like a full, life-giving lungful of air, altogether bigger and more powerful.
Summing up the thrill of pictures of widest range in light values versus the meditative mulling offered by compositions recorded in a narrower range in light values, the illustration at the top of this article shows how different the subject looks in direct window light from the sun versus indirect, diffused window light mediated by cloud cover. Stretching these observations from the world of lens and light to the realm of thinking and perception in general, maybe something similar happens when one encounters ideas and places to interact with that exhibit the widest range of sensation and opportunity/risk versus situations and subjects at the opposite end of the spectrum, where stimulation and potential for reward or risk is lowest. There is not necessarily a superiority in big versus small range in ambient conditions (light for photography, cognitive and emotion range of experience for life). After all, dramatic tension does have its place, but so does a calming circumstance. In this rhythm of tension and release, spread across a long period or crowded into a short span of time/space, the power of seeing and the function of knowing more generally seems to imitate what happens at the level of muscles: always flexed or always flaccid leads to problems. Instead, the best results come from regular use and regular rest: tension, relaxation. Or in the case of the above photo-collage, the most satisfying visual experiences comes from high-dynamic range and then low-dynamic range of light. Alternating one and the other makes for the freshest, most responsive visual experience. And in the realm of growing one’s mind, too, this alternating exertion and relaxation could make for the best experience, too.
Strong light and angular surface combine to dramatic effect of light and dark; Chiaroscuro.
Late morning light poking through the tree canopy over this walking trail on a cloudless day produced this contrasty look of the many surfaces on this rock in the path. The importance of light in defining the mood, significance, characterization, and overall impression of a subject is not limited to camera and lens. All the visual arts depend on light in both quantity and quality to communicate with viewers, and indeed, with the communication of subject to the image composer herself or himself. In this contrasty photo the jagged dimension of the stone stands out. By contrast, when the light is dim or is diffused by cloud cover, a blanket of even light would make the surface shape more evenly represented. The mass and volume have not changed, nor has the juxtaposition of subject to surroundings. Only the light is affecting the visual experience, light that is directional, strong, unfiltered, and accompanied by a correspondingly dramatic shadow play.
Something similar comes into play outside the world of camera and lens, too. When a person or event is portrayed in even, soft, flattering way then viewers are predisposed to delighting in the composition. But when the same scene is cast in dramatic, contrasty pools of bright and dark, the effect is to create greater distance between the viewer (living in a world of routines and ordinary things) and the subject (occupying a bigger than life, extra-ordinary stage). Brightness alone does not fully cause viewers to stand back and stare at the surprising effect. Instead, it takes both shadow and light to create the exaggerated contours and vivid effect; bigger than life. One conclusion from this observation about the dramatic impact of exaggerated dark and light is that beneath the drama is something that is a bit more approachable and ordinary than appearances express. Another conclusion comes by reversing this observation: even a plain and routine sort of subject can be spiced up by shining a bright light in such a way as to create dark shadows, too. Taken together as a complementary pair, the effect from the play of light and dark really is something greater than the sum of each part alone.
Huge range in light values from deep shadow to blinding reflection of the sun’s rays. 13 December 2021.
Little by little the camera makers have been able to get closer the the range of light sensitivity of the human eye. Many expensive digital SLR sensors can record 12 f-stops of brightness (each increase in f-stop doubles the light value: f4 to twice as bright as f5.6, which itself is twice as bright as f8). For healthy human eyes the range in light values is estimated at 14 f-stops.
One work-around by camera makers is to offer a feature to merge 3 exposures into a finished picture. Since there is a fraction of a second separating the triple shutter release, the best results come from static scenes in which the lens is firmly anchored to a spot, thus avoiding discrepancy from fast-moving subjects or from the movement of casually aimed camera lens. One frame is underexposed so that the brightest elements will not risk being too bright. One frame is overexposed so that the deepest shadows can reveal a bit of detail in them. And one frame is normally exposed to capture the range of light between extremes of dark and light. The sandwiched picture merges the middle light values from the normal exposure. It takes the shadow detail from the overexposed shot. And it uses the highlight parts from the underexposed picture. Taken all together the viewer can see a High Dynamic Range (HDR) in the light values, wider than just 1 exposure can record on today’s sensors.
This photo shows a late morning parking lot with a shiny black SUV lit by the overhead dome of bright blue and the direct rays of the sun behind it. The top of the windshield acts like a mirror and sends a reflection of the sun’s full intensity at the lens, overcoming the sensor’s ability to see through brightness that is off the scale. Instead of any detail or definition we see only pure white at the top of the windshield. At the opposite end of the scale is the shiny side panel of the car hidden in shadow. Thanks to the HDR setting on the camera, though, hints of the car’s sleek surface can be seen. If the picture were recorded without the HDR 3-frame merging process, then the already contrasty scene would have even less visual information; only stark black shadows to counterbalance the brightest parts of the picture.
Thinking of the difference between HDR and non-HDR photos, perhaps there is something to be learned in the realm of thinking and looking at the world, too. If it works to merge intentionally different renditions into a composite that is much richer and more finely detailed than was true of one-shot impressions, then maybe a similar benefit comes from doing multiple viewpoints on problems that humans face interpersonally, and in relation to the natural world beyond human affairs, too. For example, Hamlet tells a story from several characters’ viewpoints; Rashomon portrays something similar in a feudal Japanese setting.
The principle of merging more than one version does yield something with more dimensions and different emphasis, texture, rhythm, and detail overall. Rather than the proverbial wisdom: “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts,” instead this HDR way of thinking means that “the sum of the parts is greater than just one part alone.” And similarly, analogous to exposing for normal+under+ overexposure there is the case of a person’s interpretation of a problem or of an opportunity’s potential risks and benefits: one interpretation is normal, routine, customary and “by the book” due to “gut feeling.” But then the range of values can be deliberately expanded by forcing an interpretation that is more rigid and conservative, and another interpretation that is more fluid and liberal by comparison to the initial “normal” interpretation. Then by merging these views together, a sort-of “HDR” picture with a wider spectrum of bright and dark can be made. So whether it is expanding the vantage point (like the separate characters in Hamlet or Rashomon), or it is wider interpretations applied to the subject, by merging more than one layer, the result is a bigger, richer picture of things.
Evening cloudscape with color intensified by western states’ wildfire particulates filling the air (8/2021 post code 49505)
In the author interview on September 7, 2021, USA Poet Laureate Joy Harjo, the nation’s first Native American in this role, shares some of her 2021 memoir, Poet Warrior, including the following observation about the nature of poetry in the mind of the poet.
Poetry is all about listening [minute 28:45 in the interview, above]
Since much of poetry is imagistic, and writers may define themselves as artists who paint pictures with words, it is not a big leap of logic to speak of visual arts like photography as originating from keen ears seeking what is true: “listening” not with ears attuned to rhythm and texture and meanings but with eyes alert to shadow, color temperature, geometry, and meanings. The above photo of evening clouds in late summer illustrates how the stream of images in daily life can be punctuated by moments of great beauty, curiosity, or wonder. In between the ordinary and accustomed scenes, there are sights that cause you to stop to admire the view, remark to someone nearby, or reach for camera to share with others at a distance or somewhere later in time. Such sights that present themselves could be called in-sights; sights that go into one’s mind and heart.
When one goes out with camera on purpose (photowalking), or prospecting for a gold nugget in the streams of everyday sand and gravel (say, waiting for a sunset or attending a colorful event or joyous occasion), then expectations may be met and hopes may be fulfilled when a composition presents itself or the photographer puts the lens into juxtaposition and completes a composition with focus, exposure, and moment of shutter release when subject is in place. That can be a satisfying completion of a thought or inspiration. But when a picture comes to one’s attention quite by accident, by serendipity, then the sensation produced by that creative spark amplifies the delight in the picture-taking experience.
Although the premise for this blog is that Seeing and Thinking spur each other forward, by this Harjo quote the chain of reason grows longer: Listen to See to Think. Seizing upon a scene and its subject to compose a picture begins with a state of mind that is receptive or “listening” for clues to something of remarkable beauty. Maybe the main attraction for one’s attention comes from the color of the light, the shape of the shadow, the way the rough texture contrasts the smooth lines of the geometry. Of course, there may well be more than one factor that stands out and draws one’s eye. But no matter the stimulus, the fundamental flow of events is from exterior to what lies within one’s mind; a kind of hearing, noticing, or listening. Perhaps there is a spark of recognition not unlike the feeling when seeing an old friend in an unexpected place. The person appears, then comes a spark of knowing the person, and the feeling of happiness that follows. Likewise the recognition of “here is something I know; it is something of beauty; it calls for a photo.” What is inside one’s heart stirs upon clapping eyes on that something outside oneself: recognizing an old friend.
That is not to say that the reverse is impossible; no, an idea can grow first inside one’s head or heart and motivate the photographer to hunt for conditions that represent that inner subject matter. Although most often for most camera enthusiasts and professionals (maybe among amateurs, too) the process starts from something exterior to the mind when something stands out and invites a composition. In sum, developing an outlook and attitude that is something like “listening” helps photographers to visualize compositions that can be made from the place and time. So much of photography truly is listening to the cultural landscape and everything in it, the seen and the unseen together.
Cool morning walk toward the rising sun that makes such long, abstract shadows directly tied to a subject.
Supernatural creatures sometimes are said to cast no shadow, but everything else that occupies space and time does possess a shadow of one kind or another. This photo shows the elongated shape cast during the low angled morning light of the September sun. That is how the integral, intimate connection of subject to its shadow came to mind. Sometimes from the shadow alone it is possible to foresee or imagine the thing it belongs to. Other times the lighting creates something a bit too abstract to identify what it fits. And yet, no matter how distorted the shadow may appear, still it is that shadow that fits that subject; there can be no falsification. Scary shadow puppets illustrate the point, too. In this sense, the shadow is a kind of bio-metric expression; a fingerprint unique to that moment and that location.
“If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck” is a well-worn phrase that people like to say when they point to the logic of deduction that ties the visible part of a subject to its true identity. A slightly different animal imagery phrase is “when you put lipstick on a pig, it is still a pig.” In other words, the underlying facts of identity cannot be denied or dismissed, no matter how artfully the thing may be dressed up to resemble something different. Here, too, the tie between true identity and the observable physical expression that is made is emphasized by this phrase. When it comes to shadows and what they extend out from, this tie between the surface shape and size and what form the shadow takes is tightly bound together. Even though the passage of the sun or other light source will cause the shadow to grow long or short, oblique or silhouetted, no matter what happens this relationship of thing to its shadow is indivisible.
Since the dark outlines growing off an object or all around a location are seen almost every day, they are easily overlooked as being insignificant. And yet, they are unique expressions of a time and place for a particular subject occupying that location, sometimes presenting a fleeting but eye-catching scene of great wonder or beauty. Casting around for analogies outside the realm of lens and composition, it is probably true to say that other parts of human experience exhibit this direct, intimate connection between the thing and what makes it: finger painting, throwing pots on a potter’s wheel, blowing notes on a horn, and just about anything from the analog world where physical force produces visible changes of outcome. In the days of darkroom photo printing, the making of contact sheets presents a similar relationship of subject and the image it creates: the negative filmstrip or piece of sheet film are pressed in contact to the photo paper to make a brief exposure and then into the chemical trays to develop the image and stabilize (fix) it. The resulting “actual size” picture is intimately tied to the source negative.
So the next time that you notice the shape of shadows somewhere, stop to appreciate how the shadow and its source fit so intimately together. Perhaps it is fair to say that one without the other is impossible. Despite the shifting outlines and the eventual fading after sunset the shadow is closely tied with the subject in a direct, honest, unpretentious and authentic way.
Low angle of the morning sun casts strong, long shadows; duplicated chairs echo each other for emphasis.
Geometry is what started Henri Cartier-Bresson’s fascination with visual arrangement of space and surfaces. What began as a relationship between eye, paper and pencil, found expression in the series of cameras he learned to use before finally arriving at his affinity to the newly invented compact 35mm film camera launched by Leica. Today there are many photographers and visual artists whose eye will be drawn to large geometric features in a place to capture by lens or by hand. But what could it be that is so attractive and may even overshadow any other element of interest within a scene?
Strong shadows from evening summer light at an angle that makes the paint texture stand out.
Reasons why many people find visual interest and meaning from strong, uncluttered compositions and design principles in general are many. One is the simple and direct statement, unconfused and undistracted by superfluous detail (compare Rococo to characteristic Scandinavian design). Two extends from the first one; that human perception is built for noticing patterns and relationships. So it stands to reason that a composition or subject with easy-to-see shapes and arrangement in place will tickle those senses better than situations where the pattern is hidden or muted in some way. Three is the way that bold design stands out from its context; it is separated from the surroundings and stands all by itself. By emphasizing form over content, the viewer can dispense with all the complexity that goes with function, physics, habitat, economics, and many other dimensions of the place occupied by the subject. Related to three is four: the strong impression made by bold lines and shapes distills an abstract interpretation of events and elements of the composition. The viewer can dwell on the geometry and ignore all the other dimensions of meaning attached to the time and place of making the picture. Five is another way of looking at the first reason listed, above: clear lines defined by light, color, or shape express order rather than disorder. A scene with strong geometry is unambiguous, uncontroversial, and free of doubt, blame, or liability. Plain and simple, such a composition is a kind of declarative sentence for “this is what I see,” no wondering or cacophony of interpretation is triggered.
Graphic designers learn best practices from masterful examples. Similarly, public-facing communication experts strive to make bold, clear messages. Even road designers invest a lot of research is choice of signboard word choice, size and font-style of lettering, and placement of their signs. All these forms of communication share with photographers fascinated by strong lines and bold geometry a love of streamlined and crystal clear composition. That is not to discount the visual worth of photography (and by analogy thinking habits) where form is downplayed so that content can engage viewers. There will always be people whose eye is not pulled to a geometrically dominant subject. Instead, the quality of light is reason enough to record the scene; or the news-value of the happening motivates the person to trip the shutter release. Since none of this is mutually exclusive, the same photographer may well be drawn to all these situations: form-dominant, content-dominant, or something in-between. But by scrutinizing some of the reasons for the appeal of strong lines and prominent geometry, now it is possible to recognize why the urge may be felt to stop and admire (take a ‘mental photo’), or indeed to capture the subject and display to others, too.
Coffee roaster’s retail area with stools to sip coffee or snack on treats (7/2021 Ferris Coffee, 49504)
In the heyday of radio drama, before TV was in most every household, there was a show called “The Shadow.” But for the purpose of this article, it is the literal meaning that is being used, not a fictional protagonist. This photo in the bright morning light at the coffee factory shows both the 3-D sculptural seats and their flat, 2-D representation in shadow form down on the hard smooth floor. Seeing the three dimensional figure dramatically lit in juxtaposition to the two dimensional figure brings to mind the question of which rendering reveals more about the essential character of the subject or its true nature?
The same coffee shop taken from a different angle to emphasize the seats’ outline.
In the first photo both the bar stools and the shadows can be seen in the same frame, so there is little mystery about the particular shape that plays on the floor light. But in this next picture there is none of the top of the seat where the mesh of stainless steel is most prominent. Instead, we see only the shiny, spindly legs along the wall and then most of the brightness and shadow definition is on the floor to express the part of the image that is most prominent. In other words, one photo makes the chairs the main subject and leaves the shadow in a less important role. But the second photo minimizes the chairs and instead dwells on their shadows in the bright light. Returning to the earlier question, is the 3-D picture of the seat a truer representation or is the more abstract shape of the shadow more revealing of the chair’s essence; its “chairness.”
Psychology or cognition is one place to look for an answer that reveals whether a silhouette or a full-body, full-color image expresses the meaning of the thing. When given the ordinary picture of the chair there are many ways to attach meaning or extract meaning from it: what size, material, style (cultural tradition or individual maker’s flair), century (historical period), and so on. But perhaps the very first impression by a non-expert is some combination (a) it is for sitting on, (b) it attracts me or does not appeal to me, and (c) I have seen one before, or the reverse – this is something new to me. In other words, the viewer sizes up the subject in personal terms, not in any larger arena or universe of ideas. It is direct, immediate, instinctive and functional; there may be hints of aesthetic or emotional response, too. By comparison, what might run through the mind of the same person when seeing the shadow or silhouette? Stripped of much of the surface, scale, and surrounding context, now the viewer only has the streamlined “bare bones” to respond to. Possibly, there will be a little of the earlier reactions of a personal and functional nature. But since the image is abstract, it is already swimming in a sea of geometry, concepts, and symbols. It is uprooted from a real location and moment in time. It is detached from ordinary use and interaction of encountering the thing. As a result, some viewers may let their imagination take over from their workaday frame of mind. Lines, angles, and guesses about the physical subject that is producing this look, perhaps, come to mind. In other words, translating the 3-D photo into a 2-D representation is a way to set in motion a self-reflective frame of seeing, possibly bringing the thinker to some insight about the inner quality of the bar stool, or some revelation about the artistry expressed in this case. A change from color to monochrome is still another way to abstract the subject of the picture.
In conclusion, taking a picture of a subject in full light and in full color is worthwhile and sometimes may express some artistry in the composition. Involving shadows adds other possible meanings or wondering for viewers to respond to, leaving them thinking about the connections of shadow to subject. But turning to a shadow-only portrait of a person, place, or thing could possibly lead the viewer to consider the essential quality of the main subject that is linked to that shadow-portrait. Maybe that signature line from the 1930s radio drama, The Shadow, really is true: [“The weed of crime bears bitter fruit! Crime does not pay]…The Shadow knows!“
Looking at the daily pool of photos selected by the Flickr editors and algorithms, www.flickr.com/explore, the ones that catch my eye seem to be some combination of geometry (shape, line, pattern), light/shadow play, wide range in light values from dim to bright, texture, color, and immersiveness (line to draw the eye from foreground to background, facsimile of human width of view). The compositions owe a lot to the eye of the photographer who frames the scene, but also much depends on the light conditions – mixed sources (artificial plus daylight of mid-day or dusk or in-between), bright or not, abundant or not, warm or cool (color temperature).
Overcast early morning with beam of sun from a break in the cloud cover 11/2020
This photo shows direct light from the sun brightly illuminating the shape, lines, color and texture, and well as giving clear separation of areas of shadow and light [cellphone camera, early morning]. Compare this to the following picture from the evening before [APS-C mirrorless camera without the above wide-angle lens]. Here the amount and the quality of light are much different to the morning photo, above.
Early evening overcast light, porch light on at the blue house 11/2020
Questions that come to mind are: among the list of composition features mentioned earlier, does the importance change in overcast versus bright light? Apart from quality of light (diffuse versus direct, warm versus cool), how does amount of light affect each of the composition elements?
As twilight darkens, details of color and texture, pattern and shadow space grow dim, 11/2020
Since the word ‘photography’ literally means to “write with light” both the amount and quality of light play a big part in the likeness that is captured in the viewfinder. At first glance, it would seem logical that the more light, the better the resulting picture. However, when light is scarce then the composition elements named earlier become more emphasized; for example, in a dark scene the smallest light stands out. That same small light appearing in broad daylight makes much less of an impression or contribution to the picture in that case.
Let us first consider the composition components in bright, overcast, and dusk or night lighting. After that it should be possible to sum up the kinds of things that photograph best in each light: what each kind of light makes possible, not defining the light by what it lacks, but instead by what is allows. Each matrix can be seen best in table form.
FULL SUN of broad daylight –dazzling source (photo 1) light & shadow – strong, clear distinction, big dynamic range light varieties – direct/indirect, main/mixed – each is well defined line to draw the eye – sharply displayed geometry (shapes, mass, relationship) – strong pattern expressed color – vivid, full dimensions of hue, saturation, brightness texture – volume (3-dimensional aspect) of the surfaces
OVERCAST light – dull source (photo 2) light & shadow – minimal shadow definition, small range of light values light varieties – direct/indirect, main/mixed – overall sameness line to draw the eye – separation of lines and features is subdued geometry (shapes, mass, relationship) – subdued color – muted texture – flatter, less 3-dimensional
DUSK and night lighting – dim source (photo 3) light & shadow – extreme contrast with little middle ground light varieties – direct/indirect, main/mixed – exaggerated unlike daytime line to draw the eye – limited to lit areas, but strongly displayed geometry (shapes, mass, relationship) – intensified, where visible color – muted in semi-light, altered by artificial light-type, absent in dark texture – exaggerated by oblique source, invisible outside the lit space
Like a person with a great thirst, even a sip of water is precious. Something similar happens with the scarcity of light at dusk or in nighttime scenes: what little light is there seems all the more intense, concentrated, and significant. The viewer’s and the photographer’s senses grow sharper in the dim light. So while an overall darkness fills the frame, the small sources of light look dramatic. Subjects recorded in low light or night locations lose a lot of context that daylight would furnish and the light that is available becomes more precious than in scenes of abundant light. The result is that many subjects are diminished by the darkness (e.g. a big canvas for landscape or photographing a hive of activity), but in certain circumstances the shortage of light makes the subject portrayed more dramatic and the light itself much sweeter than in other conditions of photography where much light can be found.
What happens to a subject or scene bathed in overcast light is an overall muted effect. The parts of a composition that usually delight the eye now seem a bit dull or unremarkable. It may be small consolation for the richness of bright light that is absent, but one thing excellent about overcast light is the soft diffusion of light rays. Shadows are faint or absent altogether and skin tones and other textures are shown in a flattering light, free of sharp edges or harsh surfaces. As a result of the smooth, even spread of light on everything in the composition, portraits give good results. Painters of old who worked north of the equator sought out north-facing window light for their portraits, since even on a brightly lit day the sun sent its light from points south, where it would bounce off the atmosphere in the north, reflecting indirect, smooth and evenly spread rays of light onto the face of the subject, or the still life in the composition. Overcast light makes up in subtlety and smoothness what it lacks in drama or vividness.
Finally, there is the abundant light of a bright day with light poured on all surfaces and spilling its reflected rays into shadowed places to lessen the dark with indirect illumination. As the list of virtues in the table, above, shows, the overflowing amount of light allows even the simplest (pinhole) cameras to produce a recognizable photo. All the features that can be eye-catching are easily expressed when there is a lot of light color, texture, shadow, and so on. Whatever the subject being framed, this kind of light makes for full exposure and leaves nothing to the imagination. Everything is sharp, clear, and unmuted. So the bright day gains a lot from the massive light, but it loses the subtlety of overcast conditions and the sweetness and intensity of low-light conditions.
In summary, what began as an assumption that overcast and low-light situations would be characterized by the things they lack in comparison to bright light turns out to be something not quite so simple. Low-light photography is based on scarce light and abundant shadow. This makes “writing with light” a dramatic and slowly savored experience. Meanwhile, overcast conditions turn out to be the best for subtle, minimum shadow portraits that are impossible in bright days of directly applied light. So, dear photographer, take heart: even when the light is dull and overcast, or when the day is almost gone, there are still suitable subjects to compose and capture.
The abiding question of the articles for this blog, “See to Think,” is about the connection of seeing (with eyes) and seeing (mentally apprehending or comprehending; thinking, in other words). Today’s essay demonstrates that each form of light brings different qualities of a subject into view. The figure of speech that says, “see it in a different light” (or a new light), truly applies in the literal sense, too: bright (direct), overcast (diffuse), or twilight all affect one’s perception of a subject, like the street scene recorded in the three photos, above. Instead of lamenting what is deficient about the lighting of a particular location and time, see instead what that lighting is good at photographing; what it makes possible to see; what it brings to light the best.
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