On Editing
When I started out in digital photography five years ago, I had a sour feeling about editing. It rankled a bit that there seemed to be less skill needed for photography these days, because all ya had to do was put the camera on automatic and then add the pretty on the computer. Art could be contrived and mass produced, and it made it ten times harder to stand out.
I still feel like photography is almost a little too accessible these days, and not because I don't think the masses should be able to photograph. I appreciate that cameras capture moments in our lives that fifty years from now we might not remember otherwise. That is valuable. My grandmother shot hundreds of Poloroid photos, not for the sake of art, but for the sake of memory. Everyone should have access to that. But the age of digital photography has definitely convinced a lot of people that they could totally make a career out of this picture thing just because they have some fancy equipment and programs.
I don't want to sound too judgmental, because I understand that we all have to start somewhere. I look back on a lot of the stuff I shot five years ago and cringe, because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. But all that trial and error (and hours of research) pushed me to learn how to effectively use my camera and get closer to the images I envisioned in my head. Of course, I still get photos I hate sometimes. And I'm sure five years from now, I'll look at my photos with the same feeling of "what was I thinking?"
I think at it's heart, art has to begin with a vision. An idea. An inkling that blossoms into a need to create. If it's art, it will nag at you until you get it right. It's not something you can be easily satisfied with. If it's not work, if it doesn't push you, if you don't learn and deepen the process, it's probably not art.
And dang it, I wanna make art if it kills me.
Through the years, I have learned a thing or two about editing as it relates to photography. I've learned to appreciate its wise use. I've discovered that it can be as hard to learn as photography itself. It takes hours and hours to get it right. I've found that since the dawn of the medium, photographers have been using tricks and methods to make their photos have more meaning and appeal. Editing isn't new. Dodging, burning, combining, selective angles, poses, filters--they've all been around for centuries. Smart artists learn how to smartly use the tools. It's not really trickery, it's a skill. It's what separates the photographers from the fauxtographers.
Editing should lessen distracting elements, enhance the feel of the photo, narrow down its meaning. Just like a writer uses adjectives and a painter mixes colors, skilled photographers will drive home their point in a way that makes the viewer unaware of any editing, or so captured by it that the editing isn't the focus.
I've grown to love editing a little bit. Don't get me wrong, I love when I capture a shot that is appealing straight out of the camera too. That can be very satisfying, especially when I'm just shooting for our family or doing a shoot with lots and lots of photos. (Less editing = less time invested!) But I also know that I can give my photos a little flavor that is all my own through editing. I want to use editing like a signature. I want to use it to enhance what the moment feels like, because quiet honestly, sometimes cameras are just not able to capture that on their own, no matter the photographer's skill. The camera is a machine. It doesn't care how the photographer feels when the shutter opens. It will record exactly what you tell it to, but it's not perfect. It may need a little human touch to get it right.
Here are some examples of what I mean:
There were literally dozens of fireflies in my yard the other evening, and Homegirl (a firefly enthusiast) was dancing around the yard at top speed. I wanted to catch her and the fireflies at the same time, but it was proving quite difficult to get the shutter speed slow enough to catch multiple flies and still get her sharp. Not to mention the white balance was giving me trouble. I finally got one with her still enough, but only a few fireflies.
Not super inspiring, but a little brightening and firefly cloning to the rescue:
That was a lot more editing than I was comfortable with (and there are still parts that bother me) BUT I managed to get how the evening felt....minus the mosquito bites. (You're welcome.)
Or take this one of Seth that I took for my photo project this year:
The settings were all just right, the concept was what I wanted, execution was fine, but the feel needed some help.
Voila.
When I shot my sister and her family, this was my favorite from the whole day:
With a little nudge from editing, it has become by far my most viewed photo on Flickr.
Editing can't make up for poor quality, that I have definitely learned. And in order to be effective, I have to understand the tools. If something looks too iffy to me, it will leave me with an uncomfortable feeling in my gut and I fear everyone pointing their fingers at me and screeching "You lie!" It's a weird balancing act. I feel like I've earned the "right" to edit now though, because I shoot consistently in raw and manual mode, and I know all the settings and buttons. But not editing sometimes feels like presenting someone with bland toast. In fact, I'll put a naked photo out there about as often as I'll go without makeup.
As in, it's only okay at Wal-Mart or Mom's house.
I still feel like photography is almost a little too accessible these days, and not because I don't think the masses should be able to photograph. I appreciate that cameras capture moments in our lives that fifty years from now we might not remember otherwise. That is valuable. My grandmother shot hundreds of Poloroid photos, not for the sake of art, but for the sake of memory. Everyone should have access to that. But the age of digital photography has definitely convinced a lot of people that they could totally make a career out of this picture thing just because they have some fancy equipment and programs.
I don't want to sound too judgmental, because I understand that we all have to start somewhere. I look back on a lot of the stuff I shot five years ago and cringe, because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. But all that trial and error (and hours of research) pushed me to learn how to effectively use my camera and get closer to the images I envisioned in my head. Of course, I still get photos I hate sometimes. And I'm sure five years from now, I'll look at my photos with the same feeling of "what was I thinking?"
 |
| Here's an example of what I'm talking about. I took this a few months after I got my camera. I spent a long time heavily editing this photo, removing the background, adding the mother of all vignettes. But all that editing didn't make it interesting. I hate this image. |
I think at it's heart, art has to begin with a vision. An idea. An inkling that blossoms into a need to create. If it's art, it will nag at you until you get it right. It's not something you can be easily satisfied with. If it's not work, if it doesn't push you, if you don't learn and deepen the process, it's probably not art.
And dang it, I wanna make art if it kills me.
Through the years, I have learned a thing or two about editing as it relates to photography. I've learned to appreciate its wise use. I've discovered that it can be as hard to learn as photography itself. It takes hours and hours to get it right. I've found that since the dawn of the medium, photographers have been using tricks and methods to make their photos have more meaning and appeal. Editing isn't new. Dodging, burning, combining, selective angles, poses, filters--they've all been around for centuries. Smart artists learn how to smartly use the tools. It's not really trickery, it's a skill. It's what separates the photographers from the fauxtographers.
Editing should lessen distracting elements, enhance the feel of the photo, narrow down its meaning. Just like a writer uses adjectives and a painter mixes colors, skilled photographers will drive home their point in a way that makes the viewer unaware of any editing, or so captured by it that the editing isn't the focus.
I've grown to love editing a little bit. Don't get me wrong, I love when I capture a shot that is appealing straight out of the camera too. That can be very satisfying, especially when I'm just shooting for our family or doing a shoot with lots and lots of photos. (Less editing = less time invested!) But I also know that I can give my photos a little flavor that is all my own through editing. I want to use editing like a signature. I want to use it to enhance what the moment feels like, because quiet honestly, sometimes cameras are just not able to capture that on their own, no matter the photographer's skill. The camera is a machine. It doesn't care how the photographer feels when the shutter opens. It will record exactly what you tell it to, but it's not perfect. It may need a little human touch to get it right.
Here are some examples of what I mean:
There were literally dozens of fireflies in my yard the other evening, and Homegirl (a firefly enthusiast) was dancing around the yard at top speed. I wanted to catch her and the fireflies at the same time, but it was proving quite difficult to get the shutter speed slow enough to catch multiple flies and still get her sharp. Not to mention the white balance was giving me trouble. I finally got one with her still enough, but only a few fireflies.
Not super inspiring, but a little brightening and firefly cloning to the rescue:
That was a lot more editing than I was comfortable with (and there are still parts that bother me) BUT I managed to get how the evening felt....minus the mosquito bites. (You're welcome.)
Or take this one of Seth that I took for my photo project this year:
The settings were all just right, the concept was what I wanted, execution was fine, but the feel needed some help.
Voila.
When I shot my sister and her family, this was my favorite from the whole day:
With a little nudge from editing, it has become by far my most viewed photo on Flickr.
Editing can't make up for poor quality, that I have definitely learned. And in order to be effective, I have to understand the tools. If something looks too iffy to me, it will leave me with an uncomfortable feeling in my gut and I fear everyone pointing their fingers at me and screeching "You lie!" It's a weird balancing act. I feel like I've earned the "right" to edit now though, because I shoot consistently in raw and manual mode, and I know all the settings and buttons. But not editing sometimes feels like presenting someone with bland toast. In fact, I'll put a naked photo out there about as often as I'll go without makeup.
As in, it's only okay at Wal-Mart or Mom's house.
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