EAF Bulletin Winter 2000 Page 1

The Bulletin	Winter 2002	Page
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ORIGINALITY
By Sir George Pollock, Hon.FRPS, EFIAP,MPAGB

“In art, there is no progress only change” – Man Ray
Man Ray was probably right. No one has ever suggested we should choose a ‘best-in-class’ between, say, Giotto, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Monet, and Picasso, or, in music, between Hildegarde of Bingen, Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Debussy and Stravinsky. Yet in spite of all the centuries between them, all these artists and musicians have something in common – in their time they were all original.
So far, in its mere 150 years of existence, it has been the same in photography. Julia Margaret Cameron, Steichen, Steiglitz, Paul Strand, Man Ray himself, Cartier Bresson, Bill Brandt, Ernst Hass – oh, so many others! Their work was original and took some years to be understood and appreciated.
Why then is original photography so underestimated, so miserably marked, so denigrated, in clubs and by club judges? The answer, I suggest, is this: the tradition, the mind set, the cultural milieu, call it what you will, is simply not interested in change. The attitude is: what we have is good, there is no point in change, change is dangerous, you never know where it will lead, we will be getting the photographic equivalent of the pile of bricks in the Tate, it is just different for the sake of being different - you have heard them all, haven’t you?
The result is artistic stagnation. I will go so far as to say that, ignoring technical improvements, 80% of the photographs you see on exhibition walls could have been taken before 1900: the vision is either the same or directly derivative. What’s more, far too many of the developments in pictorial photography over the last hundred years can be attributed, fairly and squarely, to technical developments. Wide angle and ultra long lenses; better and faster films; faster shutter speeds; colour and, more recently, digital manipulation. No matter what new technique is used, there seems to be no echo in club photography of the whole series of revolutions that. In the same period, have taken place in other visual arts, especially painting and sculpture.
Why do club photographers close their minds so firmly against 20th century art? It is not a question of copying painters, only of trying to understand and appreciate their ideas. Many may be useless to photographers, as being essentially paint or gesture orientated, but many are relevant to the way we see, which is the essence of photography.
Hold it, George: what do you mean by “gesture orientated”? Why, this goes to the heart of the difference between photography and other visual arts. Until the invention of photography, all visual art depended on the addition or removal of material from a surface. In painting, drawing or modelling, we see the addition of matter; in engraving and carving, its removal. But photography is entirely different: here, light, which is energy, produces the image by causing a change in a surface that has been pre-sensitised. All pre-photographic methods of making an image involve the hand, require a gesture. But light cannot be handled, so in photography the function of the hand disappears. Image making is transferred wholly to the eye and the brain; you can almost say that photography is essentially a mental process, more akin to the writing of poetry or the composition of music than to painting or drawing.
If seeing is the essence of photography, creative photography must require an act of creative seeing. Is this possible? A study of the psychology of seeing may help. The problem is that we see what we expect to see, what we have learnt to see in early life or later by training. To see our subjects differently, in a new way, is very difficult. We have high authority for this, for it was well understood by our greatest painter of the landscape: “The art of seeing” said John Constable, “is as much to be learnt as the art of reading Egyptian Hieroglyphics”. To see in a new way you have to let go, you have to lose a lot of acquired and subconscious knowledge. This can be done because, in seeing, the influence of the brain is paramount, a fact which was recognised in antiquity. In about 150 AD, Pliny wrote: “The mind is the real instrument of sight and observation, and the eyes merely act as a kind of vehicle receiving and transmitting the visual portions of consciousness”. And to turn to one of the most original artists who ever lived, William Blake, who said: “I see through my eyes, not with them”.
So there is a problem: we look at photographs, we see them and we see our subjects through minds pre-trained and pre-sensitised by…what? Well, it has to be said, often by club judges who have themselves been trained and sensitised by a previous generation of club judges and so on ad infinitum. How do you break out of this circle? I could suggest some helpful visual exercises, but this is not the place; more useful, I believe, is to study other visual arts for yourself, concentrating on those of the 20th century.
A start on seeing for yourself and through your own eyes and brain instead of other peoples’ comes when you realise that the so-called “Rules of Composition” are nonsense, nothing more that the photographic equivalent of painting by numbers. It is easy to make a list of great paintings and great photographs – acknowledged masterpieces – in which the artist in both media have ignored these stupid rules. Remember what Edward Weston said, “Consulting the rules of composition before taking a photograph is like consulting the laws of gravity before going for a walk”. The question should not be, does this photographer follow the rules? Instead it should be, does it work? Does it communicate what the photographer intended, what he or she saw? If manipulated, does the manipulation add anything to the photograph? Instead of rules, think in terms of dynamics, of balance, of relationships – relationships are particularly important in colour.
An original photograph will necessarily be different from the norm. Judges who are faced with a picture they cannot understand should have the humility to realise that the photographer may be showing them something original and therefore rare and valuable. Of course they will have to admit that they are baffled, but even so they should give the picture high praise simply because it is different. If club photography is to develop in the 21st century, club judges must learn to prize originality above rubies.

EDITORIAL
Sometimes, as in this edition, the editor is called upon to fill a space– perhaps this is not a good idea? I was delighted that Sir George Pollock has provided a very thought-stimulating article in this edition. I do hope that you will give it your full consideration.
Sir George has introduced the idea that we should actively encourage ‘different’ images. I am sure that there are few that would deny that this would be a very welcome shot in the arm for club photography. We still see the often repeated images of coils of rope, sections of vintage cars, peeling paintwork or rusting metal that seem to have a fatal attraction for the amateur photographer. There are, of course, those who do move the frontiers of photography and many receive their just recognition.
In order to stimulate the discussion and perhaps act as a Devil’s Advocate I should like to make a few comments. We do see new work from a number of photographers, some in our own Federation. We also see work, particularly in distinction submissions, that strains the incredulity of the average photographer. I am sure that you know what I mean. Sir George has said that judges should give high marks to ‘different’ images even if they cannot understand them. Judges are ordinary people and have not been trained in artistic criticism (thank goodness!). Most judges, faced with the photographic equivalent of the Tate Gallery’s pile of bricks in a competition have neither the time nor the background to assess such an image. I heard a lecture from the Director of Tate Modern in which he attempted to explain modern art. In my case he failed completely! I suspect that the same situation applies to 95% of our judges. So we have to decide how to assess ground breaking new work.
It is a fact, as Sir George has indicated, that many remarks from club judges are the result of received information. Many people seem to feel safer by giving top marks to the tried and tested image. It may be that they think that they are less likely to provoke criticism if they stick to what we know. In any case, this is part of human nature. I remember being told by a stress expert that if a Stone Age man was confronted with two caves, in one of which he knew was a sabre toothed tiger, then he would enter the cave housing the tiger. This was because he then knew the extent of the danger facing him – the other cave was an unknown world. The person judging or commenting upon a ‘new’ image is in a similar situation.
Is it really possible for the average photographer to make a judgement on a ‘different’ image and say this is new and a valid piece of work, not a gimmick?
But what of competitions themselves? To see a really good print or slide is a great pleasure and this is one of the points that encourages judges to go to other clubs. But why must it be done through competitions? How did it all start?
For many years I accepted competitions as a fact of life. They were always built into the programme but when did this come about? Did Fox Talbot decree that all amateur clubs should include competitions as an inherent way of life? Over the years I have become more and more doubtful as to the benefits of competitions. If we all sat down and cleared our minds of preconceived ideas and received wisdom and really thought about the competition, then competitions would disappear from our programmes.
You can have competition in a race. There is a clear undisputed winner. You can give marks in an exam. You are clearly right or wrong and the one with the highest marks comes out top. How do you allocate marks to a photograph? There are certain basic parameters that have been used. It has been said that prints should be sharp, well printed and with a full range of tones, but even this can be disputed. If a judge gives 15 out of 20 what does it mean? I can assure those who have never judged that the most difficult, almost impossible part of a judge’s evening is to give marks. We mark between 1 and 20. If a judge were to give a mark of 1 there would be uproar.
In most competitions the standard of the work is fairly uniform. There are one or two less than able efforts, the majority are good, competent work and some are outstanding images. Consequently the range of marks lies between 14 and 20, with the majority being between 15 to 17. If you are really honest you will know that it is totally meaningless if one judge gives your work 15 and another gives it 17 (or vice versa). The image has not changed in the interval.
Consider why you like or dislike a photograph. It may be due to received wisdom - certain judges will have told you what type of image should be successful. It is more likely that the answer lies within yourself. We all like or dislike different things for different reasons. So the reason for your appreciation of a photograph is not a set of rules, it is influenced by cultural, social and emotional factors within your experience alone. How can you give marks to a photograph on that basis? We can have criticism and state our personal opinions but that is all. When a judge pronounces an image to be a winner, he or she is merely saying ‘this is the one that I like best’ which is rather different to saying ‘this is the best image’ yet it is the last statement that we accept.
If we were to collect six prints or slides from six members and send them to six judges for their assessment and marking you would get six entirely different results. If the judges’ comments and marks were read out at a club evening it would afford us all with a considerable amount of amusement, because of the inconsistencies of judging. A Yorkshire club carried out the experiment recently with just this result. Yet after all the amusement has died down is there any move to reconsider the wisdom of competitions? Of course not, competitions are such a part of club life that it is tantamount to treason to speak against them. We are such creatures of habit that we just hate changes.
It is likely that we shall have competitions until the last club shuts its doors. If you just wish to put one over on your fellow members, then the competition is the ideal. The fact that one evening spent discussing work, led by an experienced photographer, will teach you more about photography than will a dozen competitions will be ignored. We should treat competitions for what they are – an opportunity to see other people’s work and a bit of fun, nothing more serious than that. Remember that a judge’s decision is nothing more than his or her opinion, a starting point for the consideration of the image. It is not a definitive statement and often has nothing to do with the real quality of the image.