Unexpected images

A night near the Schloss in Nürnberg (M6TTL, 'lux 35, Provia ISO 400 pushed to 1600)

Lorenzkirche (Nürnberg) during Blauenacht, the night when culture and art mingle with people in the streets of this German city (same gear & film as above).

From a bridge above the Spree river in Berlin (same camera, but with an Elmarit 28/f2.8 lens on Agfa APX 400)

What do these photographs have in common?

It's not that they are night shots.  In fact, one isn't.

It's not that they were taken in the same German city (one wasn't).

One could argue they are city scenes, granted, but the truth is that they were all more or less grab shots, images that I didn't plan.  They simply crept up on me.  The first and second were impulsive shots, mostly because I was there and thought the scene and the moment were cool.  I didn't really expect to see them come well, even though I knew they would turn up (not "out").  To be quite honest, they surprised me.  

As a guiding principle, I don't go into a town hoping to find something to photograph; usually, I "scout" the place, look for something to tell me what to expect.  Later, I try to see the kind of photograph I'd like to make, and then look for it.  As a result, not always do I shoot, or not always am I happy with the stuff I bring back.  However, there are surprises like these little "jewels" (if I may be this proud about them) that struck me as sudden and necessary.  The last one, more than ever, came to me after I had already crossed that bridge and was well into the following block.  Something about the trees, the intense light of that summer afternoon, and the desire to photograph the light itself made me return to a spot where I hoped to see this scene.  

I didn't quite find it, but chose to make do with what I had at hand.

Do you plan your shots?  Do you visualize them before pushing the shutter release?  Or do you believe in inspiration?  I'd like to know...

Objects II

A seductive staircase...

Water coming down or snow melting on the ground...

A figure whispering in the hall...

Are these things what you see in the accompanying photos?  Is that really a staircase, or an invitation?  Did you see a cascade or snow on the ground?  Was the statue really calling the woman?  

When objects seem different or look like something else, I know I did what I wanted.  I will never think the same of a bicycle, for instance, after seeing one covered in snow, and looking like a sign of good times gone.  Same happens with the staircase (from which I had to crop a man, coming down), and its associations (ascent, way, obstacle, end of the way).  When push comes to shove, things simply appear to us, and if we don't make something out of them, our photographs are not to survive.  At least, my goal has been to, say, "defamiliarize" objects. Otherwise, my shots wouldn't fit anywhere.

Not even the very weird boundaries of a blog.

(BTW, all these images were made with rangefinder cameras; the first and second with a Contax G1 and a Planar 45mm lens; the third, with my Leica and a 'cron 50mm.)

Ever thought about photographing an object to make it look what it is not?  Or taking advantage of some thing, to say something else?  How does one say "summer" or "curiosity" without words?

I'll try to answer the question next time.

Objects I

A bike in the snow

A row of mannequins

A konditorei table

Objects that speak of a function, a need, status, weather, a circumstance, but also things that exist on their own (or does a chair exist without someone to sit on it?).  I have photographed them for different reasons, although in all cases there's one that has led me to snap their pic: their expressivity.  Granted, objects can easily look lonely, thus inspire the idea of loneliness and even despair, but there are other images that speak to me of other things, like the bittersweet afternoons in the late fall, the sun in the summer, a possibility that never occurred.  These make images that work as reminders of the things we could or dared not do.

There's another thing to this: I like photographing objects to make them look strange, distant from their usual function, inhabiting other places and spaces.  In short, I like chairs to look like people, or cars look like bugs.  It's a challenge, but if in the end I manage to make an object look like something else, I'm more than happy of having created an illusion. 

Next time, more objects.

Travels with a Leica

Where to begin?  With the pretty candy vendor from Puerto Rico, who continued about her business even after seeing me aim my camera at her?  With the edgy figure of a man climbing up a roof in the colonial neighborhood of Bogotá, Colombia?  Or with the more mundane containers of Chinese food we got some time ago, that weren't even shot with a Leica? 

All these images bring back memories to me, of trips in which I swore I'd never carry a camera again, only to agonize over a choice of lenses and bodies for the next trip.  In Puerto Rico I walked all over the place with most of my gear; on the way back, in the airport, somewhere in NC, my carryon bag gave in when the strap broke on me and it fell with a disturbing plop sound on the floor (nothing happened, my glass and cameras were protected by my jacket and all the stuff I had in the bag).  In Colombia, having learned my lesson, I carried only one body and three lenses... and felt like an orphan.  At home, I stashed the Leicas away and rekindled my relationship with my Nikons. 

Why all this traveling?

Perhaps to return with photos?  Only?

So much to scan...

Next time, objects: why photograph them, what is in them, why bother at all...

So long!