Sometimes when we seem to split hairs it is found that instead we saw lumber for a balcony with a view. The question concerning the ownership of photographs, once raised for a sturdy look, soon shows that the correct answers deflate egos. Enlightened photographers begin to wonder how small a part they can play and still claim the product.
There can be little doubt that the gap between the limitations of the lens camera and the creative freedom of other graphic or pictorial arts is a real one. Although many agree that it is the MAN BEHIND THE CAMERA that counts, that man can usually only "select” the section of what is before the lens.
Somewhere, there when the floating head turns in our presence on its pillow unpronounceably its suddenly-leaden, plaster-size imprint into death’s leaks, and all other hot things sour— there, where, when, we are as if we weren’t; alone, unsatisfied in our unannounced waking, warm and widowed in our two-bodied beds, nymphomaniacs-without-loving-possibility.
Bonding together painting and photography, light appears . . . In the beginning were light and the man. And the man was a painter and, later, a photographer. He saw the mark of the brush as colored light and released his inner world in a shimmer of symbols.
There are at least two histories of thought and action in relation to art. On the one hand, there is the elusive history of the transforming act of the mind of the artist. On the other, there is the more accessible history of reaction in society to the produced work of art.
As first novels are autobiographical, so are first portfolios of camerawork. William LaRue works with children as their teacher. Children in the Oakland public school system, children who are retarded for any number of...we might say all reasons...but better all circumstances.
Developing a vocabulary for photography is...how many times have we said it?...tricky business. Can we go back to grade one for a moment? It seems to me that there is a logical progression from objective to subjective reporting. This provides us with a convenient way of organizing and understanding the differences among these particular categories: informational, documentary, pictorial, and equivalent.
After three days with the first volume of the Daybooks of Edward Weston, the diary style has taken over my ordinary writing habits. I am tempted to date this—why not? Rochester, New York 26 March 62 Today a long-held wish has been gratified. I hold a certain book in my hands; I was beginning to think that I never would.
During January a typical campaign for new subscribers was held. Readers may remember the letter that was sent to all current subscribers and probably wonder at the outcome. The necessity of additional subscribers was taken seriously by a number of people.
Laura Gilpin found the undisturbed old graveyard pictured on the front cover, far up in the mountains in the vicinity of Santa Fe, New Mexico. This is her home country. A documentarian, Laura Gilpin has photographed all over the West. She has a book on the Rio Grande from trickle to flood in the Gulf.