Strong light or weak and the complexion of things

Morning sun on the maple (L) and the same subject from 90 degrees to one side (R)

In the days of film (in rolls or cassettes) cameras, beginners were advised to keep the sun or other main light source behind the lens or to the back of the photographer. The result is strong colors, vivid texture, and clear definition of the subject, as in the left half of the illustration, above. By photographing to the side, however, the unlit surfaces of the tree present a different look. There is still enough light to see the contours of the tree and indeed the textures of its surfaces. But the light coming into the shaded area is bouncing off some other surfaces nearby, in addition to the blue sky overhead. The result of this weaker light as seen on the right half of the illustration, above, is generally softer and with less strident contrast than the picture next to it. Additionally, the color temperature of the light in full sun on tree and wall differs to the penumbral light seen in the shaded side of the tree backed by the vinyl siding of the building. Thus, certain subjects look best in contrasty, direct light; but others present their best side to the camera in softer or indirect sources of light.

In the specific case of portrait photography, the most flattering light is indirect or else is diffused by overcast skies; north-facing windows (if northern hemisphere) also are favored by visual artists since that light bouncing off the sky is more constant and milder on the subject being painted, photographed, or sculpted. On the other hand, a portrait of a powerful subject may look best in contrasty lighting conditions to impose a tension or drama to the representation. Thus, the type of subject dictates what lighting works best to convey the subject to viewers.

Turning to the above photos of a Japanese maple, what sorts of things are communicated by the strong light versus the weak light? Bark surface, fungi, and leaf shadows are vividly present when compared to the side view of the tree out of the direct sunlight. In other words, the physicality and particularity of this tree stand out in strong light. The softly lit view does not emphasize these exterior qualities as much. So the viewer sees the tree and can more easily engage with the idea of trees in general, not just this single specimen. Perhaps the strong light is more static as a “frozen moment” while the diffuse, weaker light is more dynamic, allowing a viewer to run her or his eyes from point to point, with each saccade to form a continuous impression of the subject, rather than a single instant burned into one’s imagination. In the same way, a brightly lit restaurant makes every visual element vivid and fixed in its place. But the candlelit restaurant is a bit dreamier and the boundaries that define the experience seem less rigid.

Maybe a similar effect of strong direct illumination versus weak indirect illumination also applies to the world of discussion, writing, and thinking more generally; not just to visual communication. In other words, approaching a topic head on and using strong tools of measurement, analysis, and distillation produces one kind of understanding; Positivism and Empiricism to oversimplify. Most of the modern world system comes from logic, reasoning, and applied sciences for problem solving in the physical (and fiscal) sphere of existence. And yet, there is more to lived experience, the communities of plants and animals, and the workings of matter that escape human inspection and perception than what is tangible or able to be captured in the language of math and physics. In order to approach things outside the reach of strong direct illumination, taking an indirect approach with weaker illumination may offer glimpses, hints, or signs of more than can meet the eye. And while a direct analogy between strong-weak light does not lend itself fully to conversation and thinking, at least there is value in positing illumination other than strong, direct light. After all, referring back to the two versions of the above maple tree, the same subject really does present a different picture when seen in a new light.

Scale matters – what you see depends on size

Morning scenes at Japanese-style garden in Grand Rapids, Michigan at various distances and detail.

Scale matters in composing a photo, but also when displaying it in print or projected onto a (very) large screen. Bringing the camera in for a close view draws attention to details that would be lost when the composition is an overview or wide-angle look at the subject and its surroundings. But no matter if the picture is taken close in or from a distance, if the image is presented in a way that is too small in scale then the viewer will not readily perceive detail. The reverse is also true: projected onto a 20-foot cinema screen allows a great degree of detail to be studied. Of course the resolving power of the lens and quality of film or digital sensor also determine how much detail can be distinguished – on modest display or on a gigantic one. The extreme case is the Gigapan technique of merging hundreds of exposures into a single composite image that allows magnification much beyond that of a single photo; for example, a luxury car advertisement showing the Golden Gate Bridge and its surroundings, then zooming in to see the featured car, then zooming in to show the brand mark embroidered onto a headrest of the passenger seat, visible through the car window on the bridge surrounded by the headlands and Pacific Ocean.

The limits to seeing because of scale limitations may be true not only of photos but also when it comes to the limits of thinking because of scale limitations. In other words, if the matter being discussed is framed up close then the conversation can go into great detail (at the expense of perceiving the larger patterns and relationships). But even when composed and curated for a close-up view of the subject, if the occasion for expressing the subject is too small or lacks the right amount of free space, then the experience of engaging in the matter could be frustrating. Therefore, in photo compositions and in conversations of intellect and analysis the scale matters: there should be a close enough view to capture needed detail. And there also should be a venue or occasion to display the viewpoint that is big enough to make the existing detail visible.

Unreliable narrator, unreliable mirror, too

See moving image to watch undulating, uneven reflections of river flowing toward the 3.5m dam

Literary critics call an unreliable narrator a figure in the book whose descriptions later turn out to have (purposefully or not) led the reader to the wrong grasp of the situation, either by giving inaccurate information directly, or by misrepresenting things with indirect suggestions about what is going on and its significance or relationship to other events in the story. Something similar could be said for parts of an image that distort in minor or major ways what the viewer understands of the situation. Jumping to another analogy –this one not about misperception or misapprehending, but instead about emotional temperature or “feeling” imparted– interior decorators know (as do cinema lighting experts) that changing the lightbulb or fitting a color gel filter (color temperature of ‘warm’ versus ‘cool’), the position of the light (and thus the corresponding shadow detail, too), and the distance from the light source can dramatically give different effects to the same location. Perhaps the reflecting surface also smuggles in a certain “feeling” or mood to the scene; that is, a perfectly flat glass surface will reflect subjects with minimal distortion. But a fun-house mirror will absurdly bend the lines that form an image. In-between these opposing extremes, there are other reflecting surfaces that introduce varying degrees of distortion. These are capable of affecting a viewer’s experience of the subjects appearing there: chrome hubcap, show window, or the moving water of the river in the image, above.

By extension from images to the thinking that goes on in one’s head, on one’s journal pages, or in conversations with others, it is natural to ask about the texture or surface affecting one’s own view of the world: is the person’s vision dim or bright, blurry or sharp, tinted or desaturated, even or distorted with some wiggles. If the reflections afforded by the flowing river, above, are any indication, then imperfect surfaces can still communicate a beautiful image. Let us hope the same is true of each person’s mind, too.

Contrasts together or one by one

Scene of contrasting texture, geometry, color, light, focus point when shower curtain stands against tile wall.

Many forms of contrast present themselves in this morning picture lit by dull skies through the window. The eye passes all the information to the brain’s visual cortex to recognize the subjects and distinguish one part from the other by the many kinds of contrasting detail: brightness, focus plane, geometric vs. curvilinear, color saturations, and texture. Each of these layers of contrast can be looked at apart, but in the blink of an eye the mind forms an impression with all these together. So analytically separating these factors to ask which contributes most to the perception of contrast or difference may not shed new light on the way that a person notices sameness and absence of similarity. But there is no harm in exploring the relative weight of these many channels of contrast.

Color saturation – relative presence or absence of color

composition in grayscale (right) and full color (left): which version gives bigger contrast in curtain to wall?

Focus plane – where the eye rests most easily, in or out of focus

curtain focus (left) and both wall & curtain focused (right): which gives bigger contrast of curtain to wall?

Texture – where the eye rests most easily, on smooth or coarse surfaces

curtain fabric and tile wall: which surface stands out most to the eye?

Geometry – perpendicular tiles versus naturally curving lines

branches and leaves versus grid of wall tiles: which lines stand out most to the eye?

Light values (bright, dim) – which parts of the scene stand out or the reverse

some fill light on wall (right) versus less (left): which scene makes bigger curtain contrast?

Some readers may wish to pause and score their own response to these five layers, one by one. The writer’s experience is appended to give one person’s view. Even without taking the time to consider each illustration to discover the relative visual weight of one effect versus another, it is interesting to acknowledge that so many dimensions of visible characteristics can catch one’s eye and be the thing that makes the scene stand out in some way, contrasting to its surroundings. Something similar may be happening in other domains of one’s life: perception of familiar or strange sounds (see Susan Rogers and Ogi Ogas 2022 This is What it Sounds Like), smells and tastes, as well as textures. In each domain the mind takes in the total impression, rather than weighing each layer that defines one thing relatively different to another.

While there can be intellectual delight in the pursuit of analytical layers and processes, perhaps it is the raw experience itself that is worth most. Seeing the many facets involved can be eye-opening, too, but only in the awareness of this complexity, the noticing of subjects in one’s vicinity, and the sensory impressions (recognition, responses, and resulting actions) does all this reflection and analysis matter. May readers be enriched by looking at this tangent about the many ways that contrasts contribute to first noticing and then appreciating a scene like this humble shower curtain and its tile wall in the morning light.

= Appendix =-=-=-=-= one person’s comparison of the layered contrasts

Color saturation – the vivid color of the shower curtain stands out from the dull tile wall
Focus plane – when both wall and curtain have separate focal planes they contrast most
Texture – the coarse weave of the curtain stands out from the smooth tile wall
Geometry – the wall grid attracts the eye’s notice more urgently than the curtain’s curving lines
Light values – the bigger range in light value makes a bigger contrast than for a smaller range

Physics of light and shadows on uneven surface texture

Afternoon light casts a shadow of the vertical conduit pipe onto the clapboard siding to form the wavy pattern.

At first the pattern of shadows is puzzling: why does a vertical pipe not produce a straight shadow, after all. Meanwhile the horizonal lines of the vinyl siding are receiving the same beams of sunlight and the resulting shadow is, indeed, nice straight lines produced by the evenly spaced strips of vinyl. According to the physics of light, it is not the shadow source (the pipe), but the distance the shadow must travel before it is visible. In other words, the angled face of the siding makes the lower edge stick out closer to the pipe and its shadow. As a result, that angle of the shadow seems to join the surface of the pipe. At the other extreme is the top part of the strip of siding. The angled face of its installation makes it the maximum distance from the pipe and therefore also its shadow. That is why the length of shadow begins at the nearest point (lower edge of the vinyl strip) and then travels away from the pipe until the shadow hits the next vinyl strip with its sticking out edge. In-between the lower edge and the upper part of the strip there is a slope away from the pipe and so the shadow leads from the part that seems to touch the pipe to the part that is farthest from the pipe; in other words, it is an evenly angled line all along the siding, repeating with each strip, and thence comes the effect of a wavy shadow from a stiff line of steel conduit pipe.

Reaching for an analogy of this initially puzzling visual experience, perhaps something similar can be found in the arena of perceptions and thinking. Suppose that the light stands for information or revelation. It spreads across everything that is present. When it shines on a rigid structure, the expectation is that the structure will not soften or change, and that the information will produce a pattern (shadow) that is similar to the structure’s own rigid shape. That result probably is true when the surrounding conditions are flat or unremarkable. But in the case of irregular circumstances, that information hitting the rigid structure will give irregular results; patterns that are affected by the bumpy circumstances. And if those rises and falls are evenly spaced or based on a repeating pattern, then the information that hits the rigid structure will make patterns that are repeating, too. Only when the surrounding conditions for the rigid structure are flat or ordinary will the expected rigid structure make a predicted pattern. In all other cases (irregular and random; irregular and repeating) what may be expected from the information that comes to the rigid structure is greatly patterned by the nature of those surrounding conditions.

Summed up, the context plays a large role in what one sees and understands when new information touches a rigid structure. Whether that rigid structure is a stubborn person or an organization or even a vast social institution or belief system, this analogy seems fair enough: contextual conditions shape the resulting pattern for all to see.

Shadowplay for added dimensions of a subject

Morning sun of early October 2022 makes long shadows of the grain elevator’s metalwork.

On an overcast day free of shadows, only the surfaces protruding from this big cement structure can be seen. From one standpoint the angles have a particular look. Then from another position the angles have a different aspect. But in this bright contrasty lighting (and the shadows it produces) can one see the angles and connections from two perspectives at the same time: one is from where the lens is pointed. The other comes from the sun’s position, the light source that makes the shadows relative to this bright spot. The effect of seeing the scene from two perspectives at the same time is like the result of Cubist Art in which a figure is shown from more than one side. As a practical matter, though, having “double vision” amplifies the stereoscopic experience, the sense of depth or 3-dimensional volume. There is simply more information displayed for the mind to contemplate and make sense of.

Something similar may be true outside the case of photography, too. When researching a subject or seeking solutions to a problem, it may be useful to shine a metaphorical light on the matter from one angle that is different to one’s standpoint or viewing position in order to create something like the above effect. The subject then appears one way at first look, and simultaneously looks another way due to the strong light source shining on it from the side. Here, again, is an example of “seeing to think” played out in the relationship of shadow and light.

Geometry and texture

The trail at North Ottawa Dunes county park follows the curves of the land [Memorial Day 2022]

The hiking path rises and falls through the lakeshore woods near Ferrysburg, Michigan. Sometimes it follows high ground, other times low terrain. This photo shows one of the many strong geometric shapes that invite composition. The verticals of the tree trunks follow a linear movement in contrast to the curvilinear shape of the horizon line as it rolls down one bank and up the other side. The master of seemingly serendipitous street photography, Cartier-Bresson, was interested in geometry and drawing before he took his first photograph, according to his writings. Other visual artists, too, have a habit of noticing strong shapes, patterns, leading lines, and interplay of curves and perpendiculars. While a line, curve, or triangle may not be enough to form a complete visual thought, seeing such prominent parts of one’s surroundings gives some order, meaning, and sense to the scene. Probably this is true not just of camera work, but also in other spaces for daily life and thinking, too: noticing structuring elements helps to organize the subject in a recognizable way.

Something similar happens when responding to prominent textures within a scene. Just as the geometry defines what is there to see, the texture that stands out will also add character to the view. This photo from the same woods walk illustrates both the eye-catching effect of side-lit texture in an otherwise shaded interior of the woodlands, and the interesting pattern of shadows cast by overhead leaves.

Besides shadow prints and the contrast of dark woods to bright trees, the bark surfaces are pronounced.

Angle and intensity of light play a big part in bringing the texture into prominence, but once the surfaces begin to catch one’s eye, then there is surprisingly more and more to see. Perhaps it passed unnoticed before, but once an appetite for texture is stimulated, then it becomes a source of endless looking and finding. Inasmuch as texture derives from surfaces and tactile experience (touching, but also by sight), what this corresponds to in the world of thinking is something poetic and sensory; maybe the “texture” of an idea is its gravity (weightiness versus lightness), its family resemblance to other ideas triggered by its shape or tone or context. Lumbering or lithe, ideas can run about in different rhythm and stride.

Taken together, geometry (major structural elements) and texture (tangible surfaces or impressions) orient the viewer to lead them in one direction or another. Without these dimensions of a composition the visual rendering of a subject would be much less vivid and engaging of all senses at the moment and also for engaging memories tied into the shapes and textures.

Light and shadow, greater than the sum of their parts

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.

Why texture touches us so

Angle and intensity of the light source touches various surfaces in different ways, engaging viewers.

Viewers often sense one particular aspect of a picture as standing out. Maybe it is the dramatic moment that is frozen or blurred by the shutter speed. Or the overall geometry of lines, masses, and color elements could define the viewing experience. The quality of light itself could be what catches a viewer’s eye, whether it is blinding or golden or twilight in its character. Less often it is the texture of the subject that is most prominent in the scene. This photo of the soft surface of a flannel pillow case well slept upon takes on a dramatic aspect when the bright light strikes the surface at a particular angle, making the texture the most noticeable thing about the subject. It is worth considering what may be going on between viewer and a picture that is dominated by surface texture.

Shiny surfaces and substances attract the eye with their texture, too.

Not only coarse surfaces and tactile patterns attract viewers’ eyes. Shiny containers, frames, manner of presentation, and lighting effects draw people’s attention and admiration, too. Alone or in combination the many kinds of texture, smooth or bumpy, grippy or slippery, come into a viewer’s mind, even when other dimensions like color or light or line most prominently define the picture. One reason that texture fascinates a viewer has to do with the earliest life experience, before language becomes the main way to interact with one’s environment. In those preverbal or paraverbal times, things like color and shape and texture populate one’s experience. Sense of touch could come from fingers, feet, hair in motion, skin surface overall, and not to forget mouth of lips and tongue and teeth. In the mouth the tactile, taste, temperature, and sound all intersect, thereby stimulating memory and brain regions scattered around the gray matter. Of course, appetite stirs along with memory and brain regions, too.

Brain researchers have documented musicians playing tunes during fMRI investigation. The results show more than a dozen locations around the brain being engaged to create beautiful patterns of sound in rhythm and sequence. When it comes to responding to visual information, something like 25% of the brain is recruited (visual cortex) for the work of identifying, filing away, and responding to the scene. A few people exhibit varying degrees and forms of synesthesia so that color triggers taste or sound or texture in the mind of the person; or music has a smell; or numbers have color depending on being odd or even, prime or divisible. Born on a Blue Day is one savant’s relationship with numbers and their corresponding colors. Musicophilia documents a variety of remarkable neurological conditions, too. And as a result of injury, the book Struck by Genius came about.

Returning to the question about how come a picture with texture touches us so, there may be another reason why we respond to texture in photos (2-D) and in real life (3-D). Besides the early brain way of encountering one’s surroundings and the many regions of the brain that may co-occur with sense of touch, there is the ability of visual input to stir “mirror neurons” so that a person’s internal response may partly mirror what is perceived externally: cry with sad actors, laugh with comedians, smile back when somebody initiates a smile, all these are normal cases of reflecting internally those external conditions. If emotional responses can sync external with internal, then perhaps things like texture and lighting can affect mood: what you see in texture or lighting comes to be what you feel (or analogously what music playlist fits your day to color it or to echo internal feelings).

So if these speculations are correct, then texture affects a viewer for all three reasons: a preverbal way of interacting with the world, an intersecting collection of brain regions activated by touch or even by a picture of texture that is physically not stimulating one’s skin, and by means of mirror neurons the textures (or pictures of them) outside the body can echo inside the body and the mind’s eye, too. Stretching this line of thinking from photography to the ways that ideas feel and sound and occupy one’s mind, perhaps the tactile quality of seeing, typing, or writing with chosen pen or pencil also contributes some physicality to the container or shape given to an idea that is expressed with or without words. Ideas that are embodied or incarnate take up space and time. They have texture and weight. They can be seen. And to see is to know, at least on the surface. Not all ways of knowing are visible or physical, though. Quoting Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince, “One sees clearly only with the heart.” Much of poetry is imagistic, too, and this includes carefully chosen textures in the images, and textures in the language (rhythm, assonance, alliteration, meter). In sum what one sees in person or in a photographic representation as still or moving picture can register not only visual details but qualities of texture. And texture can enter the mind and memory sometimes more deeply than any other form of input. Thus, indeed, does texture touch us so.

Angle of sun and lens produces new vision

A few days before the first day of spring 2021 with sun low and camera lens low.

Judging from the pebbly composition of the sidewalk, this mix of aggregate and cement went in the ground before the 1970s. But on a cloudy day, at dusk or dark, or in broad daylight, the condition of surface texture and glare from countless shoes polishing the small stones would go unnoticed. Only with the low angle of the sun on a clear morning does the surface stand out. This effect is amplified by squatting closer to the ground and pointing the lens into the sun or the reverse, putting the sun directly behind the lens.

This brief observation illuminated by the morning light invites a larger meaning, too. Most days and times this section of the sidewalk is unremarkable; not at all eye-catching. So for photowalkers the first hour of daylight (or the last; so-called Golden Hour) can beam a powerful point-source “spotlight” on surfaces, both vertical and horizontal, as well as dramatizing subjects with exaggerated shadows. And for those with a philosophical inclination, perhaps the meaning of this momentary out-of-the-ordinary moment is that commonplace things can reveal aspects that most times are invisible, of which they go unnoticed. In other words, no matter how unremarkable the subject or setting, when the light and your own angle in relation to that scene are just right, then sometimes totally unexpected vision opens up. In particular for extremely low-angle and especially bright light, one is treated to enhanced appreciation for the surface pattern, quality of touch, and shine (or the lack of polishing). Even if that quickly passing vision offers nothing more than brief visual delight, rather than some cosmic insight, there is still worth that comes from adding an entirely invisible aspect to one’s experience of the subject. Ever after, that plain spot will carry memory and meaning that goes beyond the particular day, season, and hour. Now it will also carry that aspect that reveals itself but rarely – its shiny, but also bumpy dimension.

With subjects and spaces other than this instance of a section of sidewalk, too, by paying extra attention and having a good look around at times when the light is rare, and by adopting an especially low (or high) angle of incidence to that source of illumination, then one may enjoy vision that most times is unobtainable and is not possible to express. Indeed, photo+graphos [writing with light] really does depend on the quality of light to attain the fullest meaning that is possible, either by its presence or by its absence.