Seeing your friend in that instant only gave you the potential for a picture. The picture you actually got was cluttered up by all the other people. If you’d only stopped for a fraction of a second to look at the viewfinder you would have seen them. If you’d seen them you could have zoomed in – with a real zoom lens this time – or else physically moved closer. Of course in moving closer you might have missed the picture. But if you couldn’t get it from where you were, you’re no worse off.
Seeing what’s actually in the viewfinder (or on the LCD screen) is a big step on the road from snapper to photographer. It doesn’t demand any extra equipment, nor does it require you to learn loads of technical stuff. It just takes a bit of thought. The more you think about it, the more you practise, the easier it gets. Before too long it’s practically automatic. And it’s a great leveller. The ‘gear freak’ who spends thousands on the latest state of the art equipment but neglects this aspect will get fewer really good shots than someone with a simple camera and an engaged brain.
Seeing what’s in the finder is fine, but an awful lot of time and trouble can be saved when you start to anticipate what you’ll see there. This is one aspect of what’s often called visualisation. This, too, you can develop easily and naturally – but only if you start by seeing.
Visualisation means that you can see your friend across the room and your brain can zoom in on the potential picture – but without even picking up the camera you know that you won’t actually get the shot from where you are. And if you can visualise the shot and work out where you actually need to stand, still without picking up the camera, you’ll be a lot less conspicuous too. This does improve the chances of getting a spontaneous shot, rather than one of someone reacting to the presence of the camera. A crowded room may be the antithesis of the wide open spaces, but the principle is just the same whatever you are photographing.
Indoors or out, the person who gets the best shots won’t necessarily be the one who spends most time looking through the viewfinder. Photographer A looks through the viewfinder, moves a few paces forward, looks again, takes a step or two to the left, looks again, crouches down a bit, looks again, moves a step back right, looks again, and so on. Photographer B looks at the scene, moves about a bit, looks through the viewfinder, makes a couple of fine adjustments to their position, and takes the shot. Photographer A may get a good shot in the end. With a relatively static subject, such as some landscapes, the extra time may not matter. On the other hand, if the sun’s just about to hit the horizon, time is of the essence, just as much as with action shots.
Of course C, who is just a snapper, wonders what all the fuss is about. He sees a nice view, points, and shoots. And afterwards? ‘This was a lovely view. Pity about those two idiots with tripods in the foreground, though …’
When to Shoot
Most photographs are taken in a tiny fraction of a second. This ability to catch a moment in time is one of the most distinctive aspects of photography. It doesn’t quite define what photography is, since some photos may take a much longer time, but it is certainly a very important part of what makes photography special.
Wipeout, Newgale, Pembrokeshire (Chiz) The ability to catch a moment in time is one of the most distinctive aspects of photography
Tom Sparks, Pentland Hills, Scotland (Jon) This shot did not just happen. I spotted the potential in the arrangement of the trees and waited while nephew and dog walked on ahead
So it’s no coincidence that the photographer considered by many to be the greatest of all, Henri Cartier-Bresson, is forever associated with the concept of ‘The Decisive Moment’. This is summed up in his own words as follows:
Photography is the simultaneous recognition, in a single instant, of on the one hand the significance of a fact and, on the other, the rigorous organisation of the visually perceived forms which express and give meaning to that fact.
One (and only one!) of the things that makes Cartier-Bresson’s images great is the super-precise timing that so many of them demonstrate. A moment sooner, a moment later, and the shot would have been utterly different. You can see the same sort of timing very clearly in the best sports photography.
Ullswater (Jon) Even in landscape photography, things can happen fast. A beam of sunlight may strike through heavy cloud, picking out a peak or lake for just a moment
Cartier-Bresson may not have planned every shot but he certainly didn’t just ‘get lucky’. No-one can be lucky that often. In another well-known phrase: ‘chance favours the prepared mind.’ In a photographic context, it’s important to be both physically and mentally prepared. Physical preparation means having the camera ready to hand, with the right lens fitted for the sort of shot you anticipate. Mental preparation means that you are actively looking for shots and thinking about the sort of opportunities that may arise. Even in landscape photography, things can happen surprisingly fast. A beam of sunlight may strike through heavy cloud, picking out a peak or lake for just a moment.
Basic Concepts
What you see is not necessarily what you get. Cameras seem to promise that it will be, but it’s never completely true, and the picture can often differ radically from what you saw.
We’ve already hinted at some of the differences between what the eye sees and what the camera sees, like the two ‘missing’ dimensions of depth and time. These apply equally to drawing or painting, but there are some other more specifically photographic factors.
Sometimes the camera will see more than you do. Sometimes it will see less. Sometimes it will see differently. And sometimes it will do all three! Today, with digital cameras, it’s much easier to compare what we saw with what the camera recorded. It really is worth looking attentively at those playback images, especially with important shots, to see how they measure up. For one thing, if they don’t look quite how you wanted, you may be able to do something slightly differently and shoot again. For another, it all helps to build up an understanding of how the camera sees.
Life through the viewfinder
We’ve already given an example of the camera seeing more, the friend seen across a crowded room. Human beings tend to see what they are interested in: cameras are not so selective. Sometimes the result is that your intended subject almost disappears into its surroundings – like your friend into the crowd. At other times the result may be that the intended subject is sitting in the middle of the frame but surrounded by acres of empty space.
The answer to these problems is learning to use the viewfinder. The ‘point and shoot’ way is to see the subject, aim the camera and press the button. The photographer’s way is to look through the viewfinder and see the whole image before composing the best shot. It is rather like the difference between looking through a window and looking at a picture. The view through a window has three dimensions and the eye tends to home in on whatever is most interesting. A picture is in two dimensions and it’s relatively easy to see it as a whole. If you’re not using a viewfinder at all, but looking at the screen on the back of a digital camera, then what you’re looking at is more picture-like already.
But whether you’re looking at a screen or through a viewfinder, you still need to be aware of two things: the boundaries of the frame, and what’s contained within them. This awareness develops with practice, and with digital cameras you can help it develop by looking carefully at playback images too.
However, the sad fact is that, however carefully you look at the screen or the viewfinder, what you see still