Were I a journalist, I’d prefer not to write for the “society” pages, where the wealthy and beautiful show up week after week. The same sentiment keeps me from making the Golden Gate Bridge the subject of most of my art work and photographs. But sometimes, going through the archives, you just have to say “I surrender.” So today, a picture from Baker Beach on an October morning three years back. San Francisco being what it is, weather-wise, this could have been almost any morning in any month. O! how we suffer from the lack of climate extremes!
These four images (click for slideshow) may be different in subject matter and treatment, but have two things in common. First, they all arose from one morning’s shoot in the Presidio of San Francisco. And second, they are crops — in a couple of cases, significant crops — from the capture that came home on my camera’s memory card.
This second happenstance is not unusual for me. In some cases, the crop is planned. Maybe I see a square composition, and my camera’s proportions are not square. Or maybe the lens I’ve chosen can zoom in only so far, and I know that the final “zoom” — the crop — is available later. In other cases, though, I discover my final composition only after the fact. I may try a number of angles at the moment of capture, but it isn’t until I’m in front of my computer that some essential combination hits me. Often I go through a multi-stage process, whittling and stripping away non-essentials.
Now, this discovery process has the obvious disadvantage of limiting the size at which the piece can be printed. Since my current camera is not one of those 50 megapixel monsters, it can be an important “error” in my practice. Occasionally I will return to the subject and, if possible, do a retake to maximize megapixels. More often, I just live with it. Life and light inevitably limit the time I have to work a scene, so there’s no reason to beat myself up over not getting it perfect on the spot — especially when my goal is usually a creative rather than a documentary piece.
With every editing session I learn a bit more that informs future shoots in the field. But I suspect that the artistic play of “whittling” will always be part of my process.