I've started reading Susan Sontag's "On Photography" - a bit late coming to this one I admit. No comment so far but it got me back thinking about photography and it's uneasy relationship with "art".

It also coincided with me having a look at images from Critical Mass - a sort of competition that for better or worse sets the scene for some of the trends in the Art Market when it comes to photography.

Here is one of the finalists for example.

Now to my way of thinking, irrespective of the message whatever that is, this first image could have been done equally well as a painting. The link with what I would call photography is tenuous because it is not necessary.

In this famous photo by Dorothea Lange - which is not without some controversy of it's own according to Sontag - the opposite applies. If you created this as a painting you would be laughed out of the salon, though it might find it's way onto a chocolate box.

These sort of thoughts are one way I approach some photographs, especially if I find it difficult to understand them.

I should hurry to add that this second photograph is NOT part of the Critical Mass submissions - at least I assume not.

This blog has been silent for a week or two. Why? I've been reading a lot about photography and thinking a lot, and generally tying myself in knots when initially I'd felt rather confident of my opinions. I started a series of articles explaining how I looked for an approach to understanding and appreciating photographs. It seems I jumped the gun a bit.

Anyone who embarks on such a thing inevitably starts asking what is a photograph, or what is photography, and I'm no different. On what exactly am I going to exercise these critical faculties? In starting to ask these questions I opened up a whole can of worms and embarked on a vexing journey full of false turnings and dead ends. It is no wonder that this question has exercised the minds of a lot of philosophers/thinkers. (Walter Benjamin, Roland Barthes eg) as well as writers and commentators on art and photography. It's in my nature to try and delineate things and to know clearly where I am coming from, but all my attempts to pin down the elusive photograph failed. I thought I could find a clear dividing line between something that could be defined as a "photograph" and something that was merely constructed using photographic materials or technique.

I started by imagining that my definition of a photograph was that it clearly represented something that existed and was recorded by the photographer. It was based in reality. It was "found" as opposed to "created". Of course this does not mean that the photograph is completely objective and mechanical. The photographer's choices make it a personal statement. This obviously places a lot of images in the non-photograph category, but that didn't bother me - it doesn't mean these aren't worthwhile works of art, just they belonged to a different genre and would be subject to different interpretation and criticism.

As much as I tried to apply this distinction it soon became clear that it just wouldn't do. At one extreme we have completely constructed images such as those by Jeff Wall, and at the other  completely found images such as the street photography of, for example, Gary Winogrand. No problem here it seems, but unfortunately these two examples do not live in nice little compartments. They are at opposite ends of a spectrum with a continuous range of shades between one and the other - complicated by the vexed question of veracity  (What if Jeff Wall passed his images off as being actual events as opposed to staged ones?) and there was obviously no clearly defined border to cross. Do we merely need to engage with the image, or do we need to know about it's provenance. Is a studio image or still life closer to a painting - as a product of the photographers imagination rather than a representation of reality?

As a result I'm going to save myself some pain and give up trying to find this dividing line. However in the spectrum of photography there are images that interest me more than others, and for me this often hinges on some of these criteria that we might try to use unsuccessfully to define a photograph. More on this next time. In doing so I'm probably going to use the work of Jeff Wall to illustrate some of my thoughts. If you don't know his work you can find out more starting with Wikipedia. (I don't regard Wikipedia as the ultimate reference, but it's often a good starting point for this kind of research. It usually has external links, and is a bit more precise than just googling)

In "describing" photographs we are on pretty safe ground. At worst we can be accused of seeing too little, or too much irrelevant, information. What we have seen can be verified objectively and, as matters of fact, should be beyond dispute. Moving on to interpretation we are in more dangerous territory.

Our interpretation is based on our observations, but is personal and potentially much more subjective. Different people may arrive at the same interpretations, but often they will differ, and if they agree in general they will probably give more weight and relevance to different ideas and claims. First of all I don't think interpretation is a search for the ultimate truth about an image. This is impossible of course, but shouldn't be our goal. Our goal should be to enrich our appreciation of the image for ourselves, and possible for others if we are doing it for an audience. It should be a guide, it should ask as many questions as it answers.

So what about an interpretation of Willy Ronis "Engine Driver"? "Whaddya mean!" I hear someone say - "it's a picture of a train driver for heavens sake. What is there to interpret?". I mention this because there is often an assumption that interpretation means looking for coded messages and symbolism, and decoding them. Often images are produced which obviously beg such an investigation. How about images that appear documentary and naturalistic. Are they just a mirror held up to reality. "Nothing could be further from the truth because photographs are partial and are inflected" ¹ In saying this Terry Barrett means that every image brings with it decisions and choices consciously or subconsciously employed by the photographer. What did the photographer intend when he made this photograph? Why did he make it in this way and not another? These are the questions we ask when attempting to understand or interpret a photograph.

In this image for example there is a lot to learn and reflect on if we address the above two questions. First of all it is clear that the subject, as opposed to the subject matter, is a portrait of a train driver, in tandem with his train. Creating an image like this can be purely documentary, or it can be aimed at capturing character and perhaps aspects of the subject which cannot be portrayed by physical representation alone. The first point I'd like to make is that Ronis could have chosen to take this photograph from several different angles. To take one simple alternative, he could have placed himself at the front of the train, with the driver still leaning out his cab, but at the distant end of the perspective. We would still have the dramatic diagonal composition, but the engine would be the dominant motif, and the driver secondary. In the current photograph we are left in no doubt that the driver is the dominant subject. To reinforce that we see that the driver is shown full height because the angle allows this - the effect would have been less if we just saw the upper part of the driver leaning out of the can. We establish the driver as the dominant motif, but he also dominates the viewer by way of the low viewpoint. Brought together all of these elements conspire to add character to the portrait, that of power and dominance. This no doubt is why young kids want to be train drivers, and worship train drivers. At least in the age that this photo was taken. However the driver is by no means a hero type figure. He scowls, he is grimy and burly. His great paw of a hand is slung casually over the side of the locomotive. He is in charge of this machine, no doubt. All of this is brought about by the careful and, I think, intentional selection of viewpoint, and placing of the subject.

On first looking at the image, I feel that the character of the driver is what strikes us. He is not ambivalent. We immediately have a reaction, even a judgement, about his character. This influences the entire character and atmosphere of the image. I'm sure Ronis could have asked him to smile, to discard the cigar, to lean benevolently out of the cab instead of the pose chosen which is arrogant, self assured, at the same time discourages us from approaching. This also highlights the relationship between the driver and his companion in the subject, the locomotive. For me it suggests a romantic image of the men who drive trains, the same image of the cowboy and his horse perhaps. However it is not sentimental - it is romantic in the true sense of the word.

Several motifs work quite nicely to evoke the role of an engine driver, or at least our perception. The secondary impression, after the character of the driver, is the evocation of heat, and machinery and work and sweat. This is brought about by the details we noticed earlier. The cigar is a nice echo of the hot, smoky footplate. The grime and the goggles suggest work, hard work. The strong light - we can feel the heat of the sun- reinforces the feeling. Now these features are not props, they are all part of the scene, but going back to our earlier observations, Ronis could have taken the photograph in any number of ways which would have more or less emphasised these points. I believe the motifs are consciously orchestrated to produce the effect that we see, and thus the photographers intent passes dirfectly to us via the medium of the image.

Did Ronis mean to portray the work of an engine driver as a tough life, a rewarding life, a dangerous life, an exciting life? I don't know. He just portrays it, and it's up to us to decide, but he has certainly strongly characterised it, and I think by closely observing the image and thinking about how and why he did it this way, we arrive at the power and subtlety of the composition, and this informs our final impression. It may not differ much from our first impression, but maybe now we understand our first impression, and appreciate and enjoy the image and its context more as a result. Indeed in the best photographs there is no final impression - every time we come back to them they reveal themselves anew.

References

1) "Criticizing Photographs" Terry Barrett, 4th Edition McGraw Hill p43

Lawrence Ripsher posted this interesting article. While it at looks at three websites offering photo critique (well known ones) it is nicely balanced and along with a lot of comments it gives a good indication of what people look for and expect in the way of photo critique, and their experience of these sites.

Actually Lawrence's blog is full of interesting stuff - well worth a visit

Before looking at the process of description, I want to make the point again that I'm deliberately picking apart this approach to photo criticism, giving it a heavy formalistic appearance. This is for the purposes of explanantion. I don't suggest that the process of confronting an image should always be reduced to a dry and analytical procedure and that we should put our emotional responses aside.

Description means information collecting. What can we objectively find out out or discern about the image. As Terry Barrett points out, this process could be infinite - what is important is the relevance of the information. By objective I mean information that can be verified, by observation or by supporting material. Some of this information is contained in the image itself, what size and format is it, what is the subject matter, what compositional motifs can we see, how are the colours or monochrome tones of the image represented etc etc. Other prices of information are provided by external sources such as a note or description as to when and for what reasons the photograph came into being, the title might be important as well.

With external sources we have to be careful however - can we know the truth absolutely about these? Similarly the title - is it descriptive, or is intended to lead us into a particular interpretation? Some knowledge about the photographer and his other work can also be relevant, especially for example if the work is part of a series, or a themed exhibition.

Personally I always find this exercise rather interesting for any image. That's because I look on it as a sort of detective game. The more things I can find, the more points I give myself. It makes me want to look more closely. That's just a personal thing though. Going back to my old Art History tutor however, it's always a useful exercise if you want to, or have to understand a piece of art, and don't have a clue where to start.

In "Engine Driver" we see several things very quickly. It's monochrome, portrait format, and it shows an engine driver and his locomotive. It has a very strong compositional motive based on an abrupt diagonal, sliced up by some verticals. The lighting is strong sunlight pretty much from above. Most people will notice these details immediately without perhaps remarking on them. They are very strong.

Slightly less obvious, but clear, is the fact that the photograph is taken from a low viewpoint (well it would be, wouldn't it) so locomotive and driver tower over us. The image has been taken from the cabin end of the train looking towards the front. We are left in no doubt as to the subject matter, (it's a driver and his loco) the driver is large and grimy, with a cigar clenched in his teeth and goggles sitting on top of his head. He leans slightly out of the cab, is caught by the light and his arm and hand cast a strong shadow on the side of the cab. We see the drivers whole body as he stands on the footplate from the angle used. The strong sun picks out the details on the engine.

Getting a bit more into detective mode, I notice that the image proportions are 4x5, (or 8x10). I know that this is a standard format for plate and field cameras, and I know that at this time images were most often contact printed and not cropped. So I guess that it was taken using such a camera. I find this relevant. You don't dance around taking candid shots with a view camera. This suggests that the photographer has exercised a lot of control over the image and that all aspects are carefully intentional.

We know from the records that at the time Willy Ronis did publicity and documentary work for SNCF, the French Railway system, so we can assume that it was produced as part of that, although it may have been intended as a private image rather than one for official publication.

Next time we move on to Interpretation - what was the photographers intention when he created this image?

I couldn't find any example of the image I had in mind for this on the web, or via the publishers or Willy Ronis agents. So I photographed it from a book - breaking all the laws of course, but I acknowledge the copyright.

I chose the image because I know it quite well. I don't believe it's as well known as Willy Ronis' famous images, and I couldn't find any analysis around on the web. It's a good photograph, and worth studying, but I'm not trying to elevate it to any Pantheon of greatness. The image is noted as being taken in 1938. I don't know where, but Ronis did a lot of industrial photography for SNCF, the French railways before the war, so I guess it comes from that time. Rail buffs will no doubt know by looking at the loco. Make a note of the date if you want - I may or may not have something to say about it later. Other than that, the title is "Engine-driver/Lokführer/Méchanicien" in my book. I'm not even sure if that was given it by Ronis. Have a look at it and see what you think. Lets see how we get on with it in the next few days. Next up - "Describing"

How do we arrive at a method of criticism? I don't like working in a vacuum so when i decided to try and improve my understanding and appreciation of art in general, I looked about for a useful roadmap. I remember at University my Art History tutor saying that if you're at a loss when confronted with a piece of artwork, just start by trying to describe what is there, what the artists is showing, how he has practically chosen to portray it. Gradually questions of meaning and purpose will reveal themselves.

I remembered this when I came across the work of the American aesthetician Morris Weitz. In 1965 he produced what is regarded as an important work investigating the philosophy of art criticism. Rather than producing a manifesto for criticism and sending the critics marching into battle with it, he proposed that criticism instead is rather what critics do. To find out what it is that they do he looked at all the criticism ever made of Shakespeares Hamlet. (well I suppose all that he could get his hands on) and came to the conclusion that critics do one or more of four things. They describe, interpret, evaluate and theorise. Not all critics do all of these things, and some place more emphasis on some than others. He found for example that not all critics actually evaluated Hamlet - i.e. said whether they thought it was any good or not. Some of these activities are closely related and cyclical, so it's not to say that the critic woke up and did his describing, had his breakfast and then did his interpretation, evaluation followed lunch and so on. Indeed the activities need not commence with description - often some evaluation or interpretation will be unavoidable on first impression, but as the activities progress, they feed upon and refresh each other.

The contemporary academic Terry Barrett wrote a book "Criticising Photographs" which is the best guidebook to the subject I have read. He works on the basis of Weitzs activities although he elaborates on these and introduces theories of other critics with regard to categorising and evaluating photographs. My own approach to looking at photographs is greatly influenced by this book. It should be noted that he doesn't tell you how to criticise a photograph - he describes a useful framework within which to approach criticism. I'm going to look at each of these activities separately in the next series of posts, despite the fact that they are interpendent. Later on I'll look at how they fit together and influence each other.

Here's a very brief outline. It might be worth thinking about how these relate to your own experience of looking at and trying to understand photographs.

Describe: What is it of - what does it show - how is it made - what can we know about it

Interpret: What is the intent, or message of the the photographer

Evaluate: Does it succeed

Theorise: Does it say anything about or contribute to photography as a creative genre or photographic philosophy, or anything else

The next post begins with description, we'll be looking at Willy Ronis' Engine Driver from 1939 (which I can't find at the moment!). Just to re-iterate, this series is not supposed to be some set of golden rules, it's just my personal take on the subject, so I'm interested in getting peoples reactions and comment

I've listened to classical musical for as long as I can remember. Many years ago a girlfriend chided me for a tendency to analyse and to immerse myself in musical history and composers biographies. "Just listen to the damn stuff - it doesn't need any explanation". Well she was right, but also wrong in a way. Music is the only one of the arts that can engage our emotions while dispensing with any intellectual activity. (If you think painting/photography can do this, think again). The study and analysis doesn't make the music sound any different, but it adds a layer of understanding that, for me, greatly enhances the whole experience. And any activity that contributes to our human experience is worthwhile in my opinion.

Take the case of Beethoven's 5th symphony. We don't need to know anything to appreciate that the music begins in a troubled, and questioning mood and ends in a blaze of exultation. If we look into theory we might be interested to know that musically speaking it begins in C minor and ends in C Major (amongst other things). If we look into the case of the man we find that Beethoven, although a troubled soul firmly believed in the capacity of man to rise in triumph and spirit from adversity. We note in passing about his deafness. It would be a mistake to try and label passages of music with personal analogies, but in the end we know that the 5th symphony could only have been written by Beethoven. Knowing this also explains the ridicule heaped on Classic FM when during their first day of broadcasting they played the end of the symphony in the morning, and the beginning in the evening.

I encourage anyone who is troubled or is questioning their worth or position in the world to put this work on their IPod or whatever, turn the volume up and go for a walk in the countryside.

Why this musical diversion? Well, the example illustrates criticism. Note that I didn't really say whether I liked the work or not, although that could be inferred. Even if I personally didn't like it, the comments would still be valid as criticism. If someone asks me about Beethoven's 5th, or why I like it, or if I want to recommend that my children give it a go, I'm better equipped. If this works for something like music where the critical challenges I think are greater, then surely it's worth the bother.

And so on to photography.

Some photographs can only be fully unravelled with analysis and external knowledge. Even seemingly simple photographs, like a sunset for example, still require the co-operation of our intellect - at it's simplest just to invoke memory. Photographers, like painters may spend a lot of time, trouble, anxiety and effort over their creation. We cannot do this justice in a few seconds of looking. There are also direct benefits of criticism for ourselves - it enhances and develops our sensibilities and our ability to articulate our thoughts and emotions. This can be useful in other areas, and can also help us think about and improve our own efforts. If we are good enough at it we can inform and enlighten others, maybe even the photographer themself!

These days with such a plethora of photographic images available I think it's even more important to take time over looking. Phenomena like Flickr present a bewildering array for us to look at. Most of it is technically acceptable because of digital processing, so if we are to do justice to the best of these we need to cultivate our ability to get beneath the surface, and avoid the 5 second, bubblegum approach to appreciation. I think it is relatively easy to develop a basic critical approach if you don't already have one, and if you find it difficult to talk about your reaction to images.

The next few articles will describe a formal approach that is well known, tried and tested. I'm going to try and illustrate throughout with one particular image. I haven't decided which one yet - all will be revealed next time