Thursday, March 19, 2009
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Dissecting Epson's Advanced Black and White
Not so long ago, if one wanted to print high quality monochrome images from an inkjet printer the only way to achieve such results were through a 3rd party RIP, which were (and still are) extremely expensive. Now however there are a number of cheap ways to print excellent quality black and white images with an inkjet printer. When Epson introduced its K3 inks, they also introduced an Advanced Black and White printing feature included in the print drivers. While not giving the user complete control over the printer by allowing access and control of individual ink curves as 3rd party rips do, it is capable of producing stunning black and white prints that when compared side by side with Jon Cone's K7 inkset and Roy Harrington's QTR, gave comparable results. Seeing what the Advanced Black and White mode was capable of, I wanted to investigate the controls one has using Epson's ABW mode, and how one could use this knowledge to fine tune a quality print. For example I wanted to know when one slides the "Shadow Tonality" bar from 0 to -25, what areas is that actually affecting and by how much?
To do this test I printed a series of step wedges with the only variable being the control I was testing. After allowing the tests to dry over night, I read 26 samples of each step wedge and plotted the curves.
Future tests I would like to do is run a linearization test on various controls using a spectrophotometer (which print settings give the most linear response), and also tests of finishing spray's effects on a print in terms of density, and using the "wrong" ink for a given paper (e.g. MK on a gloss surface) and it's effects.
My initial graphs can be seen or downloaded here.
To do this test I printed a series of step wedges with the only variable being the control I was testing. After allowing the tests to dry over night, I read 26 samples of each step wedge and plotted the curves.
Future tests I would like to do is run a linearization test on various controls using a spectrophotometer (which print settings give the most linear response), and also tests of finishing spray's effects on a print in terms of density, and using the "wrong" ink for a given paper (e.g. MK on a gloss surface) and it's effects.
My initial graphs can be seen or downloaded here.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Brooks Jensen's "Windows and Artifacts" and the Importance of Presentation
For my money, Brooks Jensen is one of today’s top writers on art and photography. He combines photographic experience, with no nonsense, straightforward language to produce a thoroughly enjoyable and insightful reading experience. He is one of the few art writers whose work doesn’t require a thesaurus to be nearby. That being said, a topic discussed in one of his essays frequently returns to the forefront of my mind and my work.
In an essay called, “Windows and Artifacts”, which was featured in his book, “Letting Go of the Camera” Jensen attempts to distinguish between a photograph being viewed as a window or as an artifact. He says that when a photograph acts as a window the viewer sees through the actual paper and extracts an emotional response from the what the paper depicts, i.e. the subject matter. He contrasts this with the photograph acting as an artifact, a scenario in which the viewer extracts the emotional response from the photographic print itself. Speaking of the work of painters and sculptors Jensen says, “… the audience is not supposed to look past the art or through the art at some “real” subject behind or beyond the artist’s product itself.” He continues later, “When a photograph functions as a window, as mechanical media, it is not looked at, it is looked through.”
He notes that the photograph viewed as a window causes a problem for photographic artists. It can lead the viewer to wrongly assume that the deciding variable that distinguishes photographic art is an individual being in the right place at the right time, rather than artist talent, craft, and vision. This leads the layperson to think that anyone can make photographic art had they been at the right place, at the right time, with the right camera.
Jensen also speaks of the things that artists have done to their photographs in order to sway viewers to thinking it an artifact rather than a window, such as hand coloring, or any other hand applied technique. He also says that when an artist reaches a certain amount of fame the addition of a signature to the print can make it an artifact (ex. A hand signed Ansel Adams print). I believe there are other things that distinguish a photograph as an artifact, one being process, and the other the subtle but important creative choice of presentation.
Depending upon process alone to classify a print as an artifact is risky because it depends upon the viewers knowledge and concern with the technical end of photography. If one is sure that the viewers of a piece will be technically savvy photographers then a 4 color gum bichromate printed from an in-camera 16x20 negative will likely be seen as more of an artifact than a 16x20 glossy inkjet print from a digital capture because of the process required to create the print and the ease (or difficulty) with which it is done. This fact, I believe, is part of the reason many traditionalists reject digital technologies because to the non-practitioner is appears less time consuming, less labor intensive, and easier.
In reality, the majority of photography viewers, including potential customers, don’t know much about the technical end of making a photograph, nor do they care. This being the case how does one set apart his or her work as an artifact without relying on process? Part of the answer lies in presentation.
When displaying a photograph publicly, the artist needs to treat the work with the utmost care, like the artifact it is (even if it isn’t). This means no skimping on mounting, mating, and framing. The finest work deserves the finest display. It goes further however. Once the presentational material playing field is leveled, how the work appears within the frame plays a role. There are literally hundreds of ways to mount and mat a photograph, three of which will be discussed here along with how each lends itself to elevating the photograph to an artifact. This is purely subjective, and the presentation is still dependent somewhat on the image. A presentation method that leans more towards the photograph as window side rather than artifact may, in cases, be appropriate.
One of the simplest and most classic ways to present the work is with an over mat with a 45 degree beveled window cut that lays on top of the image. In the type of presentation the mat takes on a passive role and simply isolates the image rather than the print. The viewer does not pay close attention to the presentation and because there is no gap between mat and image the photograph takes on a the qualities of a window.
Another way to present a photograph is very similar to the previous method, however the photograph is trimmed for the correct crop, and dry mounted onto the backing board. The over-mat window is then cut to fall outside of the image leaving a space of mounting board around the image (shown as gray). This space is commonly used for a signature, edition number, and/or title. This method begins to separate the photograph from a window to an artifact by showing the actual print in isolation, differentiated from the over mat. It shows clearly that it is a different paper, and an object raised slightly off the backing board. Also the addition of a signature, edition number, and title, give the photograph a sense of importance and objectivity.
A third way to present a photograph works especially well if the image is printed on paper that has naturally deckled edges or could be torn to resemble a deckled edge. This method builds upon the previous, however the image is mounted on a middle layer of foam board used to elevate it off of the backing board. A window of foam board is also used to raise the over mat to the height of the image. This method shows the entire piece of paper that the image was printed on (shown as blue), as well as the backing board (shown in gray), which is why deckled edges are a plus. This separates the photograph as an artifact even more so because the matting and mounting play an active role in how the viewer sees the image. The shadow boxing effect adds a layer of 3-dimensionality, and showing the edges of the paper isolate the photograph further as an object to be looked at rather than a window to be looked through.
I suppose the moral here is that presentation counts. I have seen many very fine photographs be demoted to “just okay” when poorly presented, and on the contrary I have seen many photographs that don’t stand alone very well, look quite impressive when presented appropriately.
I struggle with the “window/artifact” issue with my own work. Many times I feel a great disconnect from the print itself when printing digitally. Perhaps it is the ease of which I can make identical copies or the mechanized process of making the print itself, but I find myself looking for ways to reconnect with the work and justify it as an artifact. Presentation I have found helps to do so.
Come to think of it, maybe I don’t need artistic talent at all. Maybe I’ve been wasting my time perfecting my technique and honing my craft. To hell with artistic vision and content. Maybe all I need is a really good framer.
In an essay called, “Windows and Artifacts”, which was featured in his book, “Letting Go of the Camera” Jensen attempts to distinguish between a photograph being viewed as a window or as an artifact. He says that when a photograph acts as a window the viewer sees through the actual paper and extracts an emotional response from the what the paper depicts, i.e. the subject matter. He contrasts this with the photograph acting as an artifact, a scenario in which the viewer extracts the emotional response from the photographic print itself. Speaking of the work of painters and sculptors Jensen says, “… the audience is not supposed to look past the art or through the art at some “real” subject behind or beyond the artist’s product itself.” He continues later, “When a photograph functions as a window, as mechanical media, it is not looked at, it is looked through.”
He notes that the photograph viewed as a window causes a problem for photographic artists. It can lead the viewer to wrongly assume that the deciding variable that distinguishes photographic art is an individual being in the right place at the right time, rather than artist talent, craft, and vision. This leads the layperson to think that anyone can make photographic art had they been at the right place, at the right time, with the right camera.
Jensen also speaks of the things that artists have done to their photographs in order to sway viewers to thinking it an artifact rather than a window, such as hand coloring, or any other hand applied technique. He also says that when an artist reaches a certain amount of fame the addition of a signature to the print can make it an artifact (ex. A hand signed Ansel Adams print). I believe there are other things that distinguish a photograph as an artifact, one being process, and the other the subtle but important creative choice of presentation.
Depending upon process alone to classify a print as an artifact is risky because it depends upon the viewers knowledge and concern with the technical end of photography. If one is sure that the viewers of a piece will be technically savvy photographers then a 4 color gum bichromate printed from an in-camera 16x20 negative will likely be seen as more of an artifact than a 16x20 glossy inkjet print from a digital capture because of the process required to create the print and the ease (or difficulty) with which it is done. This fact, I believe, is part of the reason many traditionalists reject digital technologies because to the non-practitioner is appears less time consuming, less labor intensive, and easier.
In reality, the majority of photography viewers, including potential customers, don’t know much about the technical end of making a photograph, nor do they care. This being the case how does one set apart his or her work as an artifact without relying on process? Part of the answer lies in presentation.
When displaying a photograph publicly, the artist needs to treat the work with the utmost care, like the artifact it is (even if it isn’t). This means no skimping on mounting, mating, and framing. The finest work deserves the finest display. It goes further however. Once the presentational material playing field is leveled, how the work appears within the frame plays a role. There are literally hundreds of ways to mount and mat a photograph, three of which will be discussed here along with how each lends itself to elevating the photograph to an artifact. This is purely subjective, and the presentation is still dependent somewhat on the image. A presentation method that leans more towards the photograph as window side rather than artifact may, in cases, be appropriate.
One of the simplest and most classic ways to present the work is with an over mat with a 45 degree beveled window cut that lays on top of the image. In the type of presentation the mat takes on a passive role and simply isolates the image rather than the print. The viewer does not pay close attention to the presentation and because there is no gap between mat and image the photograph takes on a the qualities of a window.
Another way to present a photograph is very similar to the previous method, however the photograph is trimmed for the correct crop, and dry mounted onto the backing board. The over-mat window is then cut to fall outside of the image leaving a space of mounting board around the image (shown as gray). This space is commonly used for a signature, edition number, and/or title. This method begins to separate the photograph from a window to an artifact by showing the actual print in isolation, differentiated from the over mat. It shows clearly that it is a different paper, and an object raised slightly off the backing board. Also the addition of a signature, edition number, and title, give the photograph a sense of importance and objectivity.
A third way to present a photograph works especially well if the image is printed on paper that has naturally deckled edges or could be torn to resemble a deckled edge. This method builds upon the previous, however the image is mounted on a middle layer of foam board used to elevate it off of the backing board. A window of foam board is also used to raise the over mat to the height of the image. This method shows the entire piece of paper that the image was printed on (shown as blue), as well as the backing board (shown in gray), which is why deckled edges are a plus. This separates the photograph as an artifact even more so because the matting and mounting play an active role in how the viewer sees the image. The shadow boxing effect adds a layer of 3-dimensionality, and showing the edges of the paper isolate the photograph further as an object to be looked at rather than a window to be looked through.
I suppose the moral here is that presentation counts. I have seen many very fine photographs be demoted to “just okay” when poorly presented, and on the contrary I have seen many photographs that don’t stand alone very well, look quite impressive when presented appropriately.
I struggle with the “window/artifact” issue with my own work. Many times I feel a great disconnect from the print itself when printing digitally. Perhaps it is the ease of which I can make identical copies or the mechanized process of making the print itself, but I find myself looking for ways to reconnect with the work and justify it as an artifact. Presentation I have found helps to do so.
Come to think of it, maybe I don’t need artistic talent at all. Maybe I’ve been wasting my time perfecting my technique and honing my craft. To hell with artistic vision and content. Maybe all I need is a really good framer.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Images for foto3 Contest
It's been a little while since I've posted, but I finally have some time now to update. I recently sent 4 images to Colorado for the foto3 contest. They are all part of the current still life project I am working on concerning life and death. I have no idea how they will go over, only time will tell. I have had a number of interesting photography experiences lately that I will soon write about including the remainder of the LF weekend in mid April, the VPP Conference, and my first bromoil experience. Also future rants will include a reaction to the constant comparison of photography to painting, and levels of understanding of a subject matter. Until I get all that sorted out in my head, here are the images I sent to Colorado.
"Still Life"
"The Weight of a Life"
"The Balancing Act"
"For Every Action"Monday, April 21, 2008
Titles
Titles are tricky things. A good title can make or, more likely, break a piece of art. A good title should do a number of things: it should compliment the piece without over powering it, it should do more than just describe the piece, but rather offer a hint of insight into the artists intentions and feelings. A good title should present to the viewer a new or at least different way of interpreting the piece. A good title should be simple, elegant, and relatively straightforward.
Artists have tackled the title puzzle in a number of ways. Some simply state what the subject matter of the piece is, "Half Dome, Merced River, Winter" for example. Others reach in the other direction altogether and create a lengthy, fluffy title that seems to have little or nothing to do with the actual piece and seems rather like an intentional distraction. Others still plead the fifth when it comes to titles and choose to not title pieces leaving interpretation entirely up the viewer.
The effect of a title on a piece can be drastic. Not only can it act as a small window into how the maker views the piece, but can actually change the way a spectator sees the image. Imagine a finely crafted abstract detail photograph. Upon first viewing the spectator does not know precisely what he/she is viewing but sees it rather as shape, form, shadow, highlight, etc. - many times the goal of an abstract piece. The viewer then reads the title of the piece, "Close Up of Chair". The viewer will then automatically, even unconsciously look for a "close up of a chair" upon second inspection. A large dose of literal concrete reality has been added to the viewing experience of the piece. However if the title remained fairly ambiguous like the piece itself, the viewer remains in question and continues to focus on shape and design, a plus if that is in fact what the artist intended.
I started to think about what made a good title because I'm faced with the task of naming a number of my pieces being sent to a contest. The images certainly need titles. They would not benefit from an "untitled" labeling. In thinking of historical artists and their title making decisions I have yet to find an example of a better title than Salvidor Dali's "The Persistence of Memory". This title combines all the aspects that I think create a powerful and effective title. If I could think of titles half as memorable as that, I would consider myself in good shape.
Artists have tackled the title puzzle in a number of ways. Some simply state what the subject matter of the piece is, "Half Dome, Merced River, Winter" for example. Others reach in the other direction altogether and create a lengthy, fluffy title that seems to have little or nothing to do with the actual piece and seems rather like an intentional distraction. Others still plead the fifth when it comes to titles and choose to not title pieces leaving interpretation entirely up the viewer.
The effect of a title on a piece can be drastic. Not only can it act as a small window into how the maker views the piece, but can actually change the way a spectator sees the image. Imagine a finely crafted abstract detail photograph. Upon first viewing the spectator does not know precisely what he/she is viewing but sees it rather as shape, form, shadow, highlight, etc. - many times the goal of an abstract piece. The viewer then reads the title of the piece, "Close Up of Chair". The viewer will then automatically, even unconsciously look for a "close up of a chair" upon second inspection. A large dose of literal concrete reality has been added to the viewing experience of the piece. However if the title remained fairly ambiguous like the piece itself, the viewer remains in question and continues to focus on shape and design, a plus if that is in fact what the artist intended.
I started to think about what made a good title because I'm faced with the task of naming a number of my pieces being sent to a contest. The images certainly need titles. They would not benefit from an "untitled" labeling. In thinking of historical artists and their title making decisions I have yet to find an example of a better title than Salvidor Dali's "The Persistence of Memory". This title combines all the aspects that I think create a powerful and effective title. If I could think of titles half as memorable as that, I would consider myself in good shape.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
AIPAD in NYC
As part of the LF weekend extravaganza, many who were involved with the weekend, myself included, spent much of the day on Friday taking in the AIPAD photography show at the Armory in Manhattan. Displaying work at this show was more than 75 galleries representing 19th, 20th, and 21st century photographic works. When all was said and done it took me about 4 and 1/2 hours to see all the work on display, and could have easily taken 4 and 1/2 days had I truly studied the pieces shown. Among the work there were pieces that were awe inspiring and some that left me wondering if I had missed something altogether. Here, I will review what I considered the best and worst of AIPAD 2008.
As far as contemporary photographers there were a couple of standouts, but were sometimes hard to find among the large color work that dominates much of the wall space in the 21st century. The new work of Dan Burkholder was very impressive. His platinum over gold leaf images were small (appox 5x7), but had a luminosity to them that I struggled to find in other contemporary artists work. Everything about them screamed originality from the process to the content. Another such artist was Jefferson Hayman who produces delicate, muted images of relatively commonplace objects. The commonplace, however, ends with the objects, for when photographed through his lens they are transformed into moody, subtle, sometimes macabre narratives. Handmade frames accent the images and become part of the piece rather than just a border. The platinum prints Paula Chamlee had made of her images from Antarctica were technically extremely impressive. A printer in Belgium created them on fragile Japanese paper using up to 5 separation negatives. It is a shame the images didn't give me the same feeling the process did. There were many other fine contemporary works, such as Robert and Shana Parkeharrison's and Josephine Sacabo's photogravures, as well as Robb Kendrick's latest tintypes.
The low point of the show was the fact that large color prints depicting nothing in particular remain in favor. A straight on, flatly lit image of a shrub covered house or an aerial shot of a nondescript landscape doesn't impress me no matter how large you print it, what you decide to call it, or how small you edition it. I wish that galleries would stop being impressed by size and saturation, drop the constant comparison of photography to painting, and again embrace what photography should be about: powerful and meaningful images.
Almost all of the galleries that displayed work had a large and impressive collection of vintage photographs. All the masters were there, and any photo history book will tell you why they are important and why they are in fact the masters. It is always a special treat however to see the prints in person. Along the same line of prints that need to be seen in person are the prints of Joel-Peter Witkin and Jerry Uelsmann. Both artists had work displayed, and no reproduction can do their work justice.
On a final note, I was consciously on the look out for the highest price tag on a piece which, to my knowledge, belonged to a Edward Steichen gum-bichromate print marked at 800,000. Although that price tag is a lofty one, the customer is at least the proud owner of a vintage Steichen print. If the product received is taken into account the most expensive piece was certainly the tomato and cheese sandwich and water tagged at 11 dollars. The only thing I got to bring home from that purchase was indigestion.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
NELFPC Weekend
A lot happened this weekend and I'm still letting it all sink in. All I can say for now is that there is nothing better for your personal knowledge and worse for your ego then spending a weekend sharing prints with masters.
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