Semi-transparent, half-visible, partly knowable

The window light both reflects from the plastic book wrap and illuminates the book’s title underneath.

Even in the dull light of the cloudy morning, the surface of this plastic covering of the paperback book presents an eye-catching sight. From one position only the pattern is visible. But from directly overhead, looking down, only the book art and title can be seen (the clear plastic is almost invisible). In-between the first standpoint and the second one, this photo shows the semi-transparent effect of reflecting part of the light, while also allowing some of the light to pass through the plastic and shine on the book’s title and colorful background art. Something similar happens with other surfaces that can both reflect and transmit light through them: the water surface, window glass, or clear plastic packaging, for example. Any disturbance to the surface tension or texture can block vision inside and beyond the surface: rough water, hand-blown or pebbled or sandblasted glass, or grubby fingerprints on the plastic packaging, for example.

Insights to draw from this image fit into two categories. One lesson is that surface disturbance draws attention to the surface and thereby obscures what lies on the other side of the surface (below the surface). Outside of the world of optics and speaking more metaphorically, frivolous lawsuits, procedural objections intended to muddy the waters or delay the process, and the authoritarian government disinformation habit of flooding public discussion with extraneous, contradictory, or loud distractions or “what-aboutism” are examples of surface disruption.

Another lesson to draw from this image is that one’s standpoint is essential when turning transparent (e.g. looking at the book cover from directly above) to semi-transparent like the photo to fully opaque (e.g. seeing the book cover from an angle even more oblique than the lens position in this photo). Taking this observation more generally, the same is probably true of the above examples of surface distraction and “noise.” By changing one’s standpoint, some or all of the reflective confusion can be overcome so that the underlying subject is visible.

Looking at the relationship of surface to what lies under the surface, the matter can also be looked at in reverse; not with regard to reducing glare and pattern of the outer layer but going the other way: finding uses and value in amplifying the surface to achieve semi-transparency or perhaps something nearly fully reflective and thus almost opaque. One purpose in adjusting the angle of reflection of light source, surface, and lens/viewer is to draw attention to the patterns on the surface (e.g. frost tracery). Another reason could be to make visible the depth that lies between the viewer and the underlying subject (to stop taking for granted the intermediary parts). Or perhaps there is meaning that comes from obscuring some degree of the subject so that is will not be readily seen, but instead the viewer will be forced to struggle a bit to identify and understand what lies there; leaving something to one’s imagination.

No matter the scenario, it is good to recognize how the semi-transparent subject can shift from fully transparent to fully opaque, according to standpoint and/or movement of light source. In this way, when next faced with glare or its absence, a person can pause and consider moving in order to gain a new angle on the matter.

Looking closely, looking from a distance

Macro is the daily theme for 26 May 2022 at flickr.com/explore

When seeing things only with accustomed standpoint and frame of reference, there is a tendency to notice some of the same subjects and aspects again and again, rather than to gain insight different to the usual vision. This can be said of a life of routines, but also of a particular camera and lens combination.

Every few weeks, it seems, the daily selection by editors at flickr.com/explore host a “take-over” in which a specific locale, theme, or current event will be featured among the 100 or so images of the day. On May 26, 2022 this screenshot shows a low-resolution for “macro take-over.” By scrutinizing the shallow field of focus and crisp edges and textures on the main subject in each composition, one’s eye is trained to pore over the scene with care and slow-pace. In contrast to a snapshot at arm’s length or one that reaches to the horizon, these macro pictures present a microcosm; a small landscape to wander and notice things that would probably be invisible if encountered in one’s daily walk. Besides macro (and also microscopy) There are other frameworks and ways of composing a picture that present a fresh vision of the world, too.

Taking the “normal lens” (between wide angle and telephoto: 35mm to 65mm when expressed in terms of the 35mm film camera) as one’s everyday perspective of events and surroundings, swapping for a moderate wide-angle lens captures wider context and also makes the central subject appear farther from the lens than is actually, tangibly true. And extreme wide-angle simply amplifies those features: even wider context, even more distortion of physical distance to central subject. But so long as the horizon is not tilted up or down, the bending verticals of parallax are not distracting for extreme wide-angle views. Going the other way to telephoto, moderate or even more magnification, the context around the subject is cropped out by the narrower field of view; the subject is framed in glorious isolation, leading the viewer to dwell on that subject alone, ignoring (indeed blinded to) adjacent and bigger surroundings. Leaving aside wider or narrower perspectives as a way to break routine habits of seeing, even working with the normal lens, it is possible in certain conditions to take a fresh view of the subject.

Using a normal focal length lens and customarily aspiring to put as much of the scene in focus as possible (big depth of field; not Bokeh), depending on available light or filters to absorb some light, it may be possible to compose at the shallowest depth of field (the biggest light aperture, e.g. f2.8 or f1.8 on some lenses). But doing the opposite of “everything in focus” and imposing a shallow depth of field (focus depth), then the viewer is forced to look at the subject more carefully than when the subject in focus is part of the continuous scene equally in focus.

Another way to discover a fresh view of a place or situation is to see it from a distance; take a standpoint far enough away so that the main subject is surrounded by its context and the larger lines and masses of the composition stand out in some generalized way. Details are not in clear view, so the eye looks for meaning in the larger elements of the picture. Taken all together– by using a different lens to normal, or by using a normal lens in ways that emphasize and isolate the subject by Bokeh or else by using a standpoint to give the main subject less emphasis and the surroundings more attention– one’s habits of looking around can lead to seeing things with new eyes. Instead of skipping over the many potential subjects as “already seen that; I know what it is,” now the fresh composition lends a closer and possibly longer look at the subject, whether by means of macro, wide-angle, telephoto, or creative use of the same lens as typically used.

In keeping with the blog theme to connect seeing with thinking, this closer and longer way of seeing corresponds to ways of thinking, too. Whereas habits of thinking can easily overlook details nearest to hand, scrutinizing little things with a magnifier or a figurative “close-up lens,” new appreciation is born. In a sense it is like the literal word root for “respect,” RE+SPECTATE, to look again.

Trick of the light, angle of incidence

Lowering sun casts its rays just so, reflecting blindingly bright from house front to camera position (3/2022)

Something about the short lifespan of this scene called out for me to stop the car and get out to snap a photo to serve as writing prompt about the intersection of standpoint (lens position), light source, angle of incidence for reflecting between source and lens, and the rapid genesis and then decay of the brilliant display as the rotating planet shifts the relationship of sun to camera all within a minute, plus or minus. A few minutes later another scene prompted a photo.

These tinted windows mirror the setting sun, adding a frame to what is already beautiful (3/2022)

Similar to the earlier picture this one also lies at the intersection of a particular angle of lens and sun, reflecting surface, and the brief time-frame before the warm light of the sinking sun falls behind the tree-tops. But instead of expressing glinting light (above), this instance produces a likeness of the scene behind the lens, a virtual vision with bottom context and overhead sky cropped by the brick boundaries of the window glass. One lesson of the first snapshot is about the significance of standpoint and the conjunction of light source with reflecting surface. Any other standpoint or different combination of surface and light angle would fail to freeze in time the bright effect frozen at the click of the shutter.

One lesson of the second snapshot is about the significance of an imposed frame for defining a subject. When there is no frame, the subject and its context often have no separation; it is a continuous view in which all elements communicate with each other, none singled out in isolation. Imposing a frame adds emphasis to the subject by hiding what is adjacent. Adding a spotlight, putting onto a pedestal, or placing into a display case similarly will separate the subject from its surroundings with the result of objectifying the thing. Words produce a similar effect: putting a label on something, or sorting into a category that is part of a system of hierarchies will separate the thing from its local meaning and surroundings. Stripped of its context, its meaning now comes from the boundaries of the word or category. Painting a person or place or thing in figurative terms (metaphor, ad hominem dehumanizing attack to belittle or bully) is also a kind of label. The subject’s original context of meaning is obscured or denied and only the verbal container shapes the meaning.

Another lesson of the sunset-window picture is that a derivative, reflected, indirect rendering can sometimes attract one’s eye to pay attention while the original subject does not. In other words, counter-intuitive though it may be, the best way forward is to take a step backward; just like the soccer teams in competition with no way to advance, the attackers gain ground by passing backward to teammates who can rearrange the field of opportunities to get past the defenders: move the ball backward in order to go forward. Counter-intuitive. In the larger arena of life experience overall, not just discussion of lens and subjects framed as objects, both of these photos offer some insights: (1) your standpoint can spell the difference between a moment of beauty and nothing of note (being at the right place at the right time with eyes open and mind receptive), (2) putting a frame on a subject can transform it from ordinary to extraordinary, and (3) looking at a subject indirectly or by its absence can express the subject better than a direct view of it.

Both photos also illustrate (4) how the short-lived conjunction of elements in a composition calls for a quick response to notice and record the moment since it soon passes forever. By extension to Life Philosophy, too, there is great value in recognizing moments that soon pass by and appreciating them there and then, never again to come this way.

Mirror, mirror on the wall… what it can reveal

New display of elk species extinct in Michigan from remains discovered in 2020 on lake bottom; mirror reveals new views.

In life this elk would be 5 or 6 feet at its shoulder, but on display in the Grand Rapids Public Museum hall of woodland animals and plants the skeleton is arranged with the eye at 4 feet so that young visitors can look closely at the structure and marvel at the biography that the creature may have had centuries ago. It was uncovered from a lake south of Flint, Michigan in the town of Fenton when an anchor was tangled on it. Closer study by experts revealed that it is a species no longer living in Michigan. Herds today established in the north of the lower peninsula belong to a different group to this specimen. Thanks to the museum’s strong clear barrier protecting it, visitors can stand relatively close to the well-lit bony display.

The mirror adds a separate dimension to the viewing and wondering experience. Rather than to limit the visual experience to direct vision, here is an indirect point of view: peer at the mirror and the sight of the underside of the elk’s mouth cavity comes into view. As such it is fair to say that mirrors can show a person things as they are, but viewed from a new point of view, such as this one from below. Attaching another one to show off the top of the skeleton or the inside perspective of the body cavity might show visitors other unexpected viewpoints, too. Of course, it is not only mirrored glass that accurately reflects light (casting light into shadowed places or displaying a reflected representation of a subject). Water that is glassy smooth on its surface, polished metal or other materials can also convey an image. A lesson to draw from this photo and the meaning of seeing the subject from an unfamiliar or inconvenient or inaccessible standpoint is this: mirrors and other surfaces of a similar reflective ability sometimes reveal a facet previously unknown or unimagined about the subject. Therefore it is worth carrying along a mirror for use like this picture, or for use to fill in supplemental light. And if not equipped with one’s own mirror or reflector, then keeping an eye out for one already nearby is a good idea.

In the wider arena of cultural landscapes and the interior world of one’s own thinking, too, the concept of ‘mirror’ or ‘reflection’ probably works something like this photo does: a new facet of the subject may be turned up by the mirror’s standpoint. So introducing something polished and reflective into one’s thinking about a subject may well shed unexpected light to good effect.

New angle on old subjects for new vision

Seen close up and from ground level looking up, this shaggy Black Locust bark is disorienting.

Day by day the habits of looking at things of one’s daily routes and destinations leads to sights that vary with the weather, the time of day, or the season of the year. But all of those subjects can easily be recognized as variations on something well known, time after time. By contrast, taking a new vantage point (instead of upright locomotion to wheelchair, say) fundamentally alters the spatial relationship of self to subject. In this photo the flip-up screen on the back of the camera makes it easy to angle the lens upward from the ground level, thus producing a viewpoint almost impossible for an adult walking past the row of trees lining a neighborhood school property. Going from low to high, consumer drone cameras allow visions from treetop level and up to the legal altitude above ground level permitted in a particular jurisdiction. Previously, only birds could enjoy this point of view.

Furthermore, seeing the world with an unaccustomed lens changes the pool of possible views, too. A moderate or even bigger magnification in a telephoto lens foreshortens distance so that foreground and background can be juxtaposed by collapsing the space between them. Small subjects can be brought into full, seemingly close-up view. Or consider the macro lens that allows very close scrutiny of places and subjects seldom studied with such great care when using a normal or wide-angle lens. A microscope adapter allows a camera such magnifications of subjects that an unaided eye cannot see. A night-vision apparatus allows even dim starlight to illuminate a scene to photograph. And while swapping lenses is not exactly the same process as physically positioning the camera’s viewing angle, to the extent that the field of view narrows (telephoto; macro) or widens (wide-angle; merged panorama), then it is a similar idea that is being explored here: go high or low, go left or right, move nearer or more distant and the composition is fundamentally changed. Of course, the physical facts have not morphed or transmuted, but the viewpoint has shifted and as a result new patterns and relationships come to the mind’s eye.

Another hardware intervention to break old habits of seeing and composing is to make all pictures from a camera mounted on a tripod, thus slowing the timeline from initial photo idea to final exposure made. Similarly slowing the rate of photographing, but in a different sense of the word, one can voluntarily set the shutter speed to an artificially slow fraction of a second, such as 1/15th or even slower. Although the slow speed indicates a tripod, monopod, or another rigid surface to cling to, the sensibility for slow pace in this instance is to work around any motion coming from the subject itself – either to capture momentary pause, or to strive for intentional blurriness. In all such alterations of normal assumptions for recording a subject (unaccustomed lens focal length, restricting use to tripod, opting for old-timey slow shutter speeds) the eye of the photographer is jogged from its normal way of seeing the scene. Possibly as a result, too, the viewer sees the subject in a new way.

Filmmakers achieve similarly disorienting viewer experiences with lighting (as well as irregular view point, above). With normal shadows of daytime coming from the sun as chief source of illumination, a scene can be lighted for a change with reflectors or artificial light from below to make shadows that defy normal waking experience, thus triggering something in the minds or hearts of an audience. So whether the artistry involves the deliberate manipulation of shadows, the effects of non-standard focal length (thus angle of view), or the position of camera to subject that is strange or rare, the result is to show the subject in ways that are novel to the viewer. The familiar becomes strange. Presumably, the reverse effect can be achieved, too: make the strange seem normal and familiar through choice of standard lens view, subject positioning, and conventional lighting treatment.

Glare coming from standpoint relieved in a few inches

Shiny book spines (right box) clarified by sliding lens toward the window light to alter the reflection angle (left box)

Angle of incidence is a fancy way of describing the relative positions of the lens, subject, and light source(s). This photo shows the same subject and lens giving a different amount of glare on the spine of the books, based on the position of the lens in relation to the window. About 10 feet to the right of these books is a window letting in the western sky this morning. Even though the sun is still in the east, it is this nearby window at the opposite end of the house that is providing light for the books. Rather than to use this observation as the starting point to discuss optics and the geometry of light, instead the pictures can be used to show how a shift in lens position relative to the light source can increase or decrease the glare from shiny reflection.

By extension to the wider world of thinking and moving through the pathways of social life and the trajectory of a lifetime of years, something similar may be true: shift your lens position (standpoint for thinking or the angle of view for your eyes) and the resulting image may be easier to see; or the reverse – things may increase in shininess, making it hard to read the situation clearly. In other words, when faced with conditions in which it is hard to get a clear understanding of the situation, consider shifting your standpoint (for eyes) or way of regarding the matter (for thinking) to discover if the resulting view becomes better than before or worse; more glare or less. Sometimes there really is a direct analogy from seeing with light and optics on the one hand and understanding things more generally with one’s mind.

Standpoint & figure-ground relationships

Right-hand photo shows uneven horizon, but a step further right produces the alignment in the left-hand photo, 12/2020.

A compact nugget of lens wisdom encapsulates today’s essay,

[William Albert Allard, photo tip] “The difference between a nice picture and a really fine one is often a matter of inches -bending your knees a bit or shifting to the right or left. Move your vision 6 inches and you can make a tremendous change.”

National Geographic photography Field Guide, (second edition) secrets to making great pictures by Peter K. Burian and Robert Caputo (2003), page 283.

The fireplug photos, above, illustrate the relationship of figure (hydrant) and ground (house outline in the distance). A lot of ink has been spilt to explore the figure-ground relationship in paintings, and by extension, other visual arts like block printing, photography, sculpture siting, and stagecraft (blocking of actors in relation to scenery, props, and sight lines of fellow actors). As the observer’s position changes, so do the lines that connect the foreground to the middle and background. And while there is no mystery to the physics of optical perception here, something more than visible light patterns is affected.

Owing to the big appetite of humans to seek meaning in experiences, shapes, patterns of shapes, and relationships between shapes – indeed an appetite so immense as to inject meaning when none is intended or existing of its own accord – something happens when the subject in the near ground shifts in relation to the background. The eye, and by extension the mind, derives meaning from the relative positions of each element: when they overlap some connection and maybe even a causality is suggested or suspected. When there is no visible connection, then no meaning is implied; at least to start with. In other words, visual overlap or proximity seems to suggest a relationship so that something impacting the one subject will somehow also transmit to otherwise touch the other subject, as well. Even when a physical separation between foreground and background can clearly be seen, so long as the observer’s standpoint puts them in visual (compositional) relationship with each other then the observer is predisposed to grouping the two subjects together, even if only at the surface level.

Abstracting this physical tendency to make meaning from the appearance of relationship in time and space, it is possible to see something similar in habits of thinking more generally: when one idea is brought into proximity to another idea, then some sort of meaning, association, or relationship can be formed in the mind, if not in actual operation in the world. As the photographic example shows, above, when the observer takes just one step to the side (or moves closer or the reverse, moving farther from the subject), now the apparent alignment of foreground subject and background changes, sometimes adding confusion to the composition and other times adding simplicity or visual interest to the composition. The same thing can be said for habits that frame one’s thinking: by changing one’s standpoint or point of view, the relationship of figure and ground is altered. The result may improve the grasp of the matter; or it may do the opposite, distracting from the matter at hand by confusing two separate matters into an invented jumble.

Once more the parallel worlds of lens and minds can be seen at work in this essay. So the next time you seize upon a subject to frame and move into a position that shows the foreground in relation to the background, consider how a new standpoint just one step left, right, forward, or backward affects the composition.

Oblique – lens position or light source position

How different the overhead lamp when lit by late afternoon spring sun [author photo 15 March]

As the sun moves across the sky –low to the horizon from fall equinox to the spring equinox; much higher in the warmer months– the amount of shadow shape exaggeration changes, producing sometimes unworldly, eye-catching outlines. It is not only the relationship of the (point-source) light to the subject that is lit, but also the position of the lens relative to both the subject in the frame and the light source – backlighting, sidelighting, overhead, front or else somewhere in-between – that affects the composition that the viewer sees.

Low, mid, high lens position affects portrayal of the subject.

One lesson from this brief exercise about the relationship of light position and lens position is that any given subject can take on new meaning, new dimension, new shape or outline according to the ways in which subject, light, and lens related to each other. So even though one particular standpoint seems to contribute best to a composition, it is worth trying a few other positions, too. Similarly of the lighting – even though a particular time of day or season of the year seems to produce the best light (if natural light is the source, rather than studio conditions or supplied artificial soures of light), it still may yield unexpectedly pleasing results in conditions different to the ones first embraced. So even when a composition initially suggests itself, it may well be worth the added effort to try another, as well.

A matter of inches sometimes separates “good” from “best” photo

Perspective altered by a few inches of separation in the lens position.

While this illustration is not likely to appear in a gallery or screensaver any time soon, it does show what happens when the lens position moves a very slight distance in relation to the subject in the frame. The geometry changes: lines, surfaces, spaces of color and texture can move into conjunction or away from their earlier connection. A better illustration, perhaps, would be the rookie mistake of taking a picture of a person in such a way that a tree or other distant line looks like it comes out of the subject’s head. By shifting the standpoint of camera or subject, or both, that unfortunate conjunction of lines and shapes can be avoided.

William Albert Allard, a long-time photo-story contributor to the National Geographic Magazine, has said that the best pictures tend to call the viewer back again to look more than once:

they are the pictures that asked questions and maybe there isn’t an answer; or the pictures where you can go back later and see something you hadn’t noticed before.“ [Allard’s photo tips include; emphasis added] …Explore with the camera from various angles. The difference between a nice picture and it really fine one is often a matter of inches -bending your knees a bit or shifting to the right or left. Move your vision 6 inches and you can make a tremendous change.

–quoted in National Geographic photography Field Guide, (second edition) Secrets to making great pictures by Peter K. Burian and Robert Caputo (2003, p. 279)

In keeping with the name of this blog, “See to Think,” the question comes up: why does the small shift in one’s position, perspective, or standpoint make such a big difference – for a visual composition, and maybe also for the way one sees the world? In both cases, whether for the eye or the mind and heart, the thing that seems to be true is that stereo-vision requires two or more positions to be triangulated so that the spatial sensation of volume and mass are produced. In other words, looking from one position and then, again, from an alternative position causes two things to happen. One thing that happens is producing this sense of 3-D, whereby the subject and its surroundings come alive so that a comparison can be considered before a final snapshot or comprehension is settled upon. The second thing that happens is the feeling of tension or absence of tension that comes from the elements in view as they move into conjunction, intersection, or they eclipsing one another. By moving carefully, adjusting one’s position in the smallest of increments, it is possible to line up the relationship of the parts to connect them or, the reverse, to distance them from each other.

So the next time something catches your eye (or your mind), try shifting your standpoint ever so slightly to see if the resulting vision improves or, the opposite, loses focus and interest. Like Allard said, above, “The difference between a nice picture and it really fine one is often a matter of inches.”