One of my wife’s teachers in architecture school wisely told his charges, ‘The bird of inspiration is not going to take a dump on your paper in the shape of your design.’
He was arguing that you have to put yourself in a position for inspiration to strike. Be at your desk with your skills and techniques honed, working away at stuff. Then you might get ‘lucky’.
The necessity of learning your craft is undeniable, and while I’m not pretending I’ve got anywhere near mastering it, I’m learning and I try to pass on tips and suggestions here that will help others. As my tagline says, I’m committed to ‘better children’s photographs for everyone’.
But for most types of photography – and definitely if you’re photographing children – you need both to learn your craft and then be able forget about in some ways while you’re shooting. If you take a photo with a 1/100 second shutter speed, even within that single second you had a 99% chance of not getting the particular shot you did. It’s amazing we get anything half-decent at all.
So when I’m shooting, I’m trying to think rationally about my backgrounds or composition. But most often I don’t have time. I trust that somewhere in my head there’s a bit of me that’s assessing what would make a good shot, moving my feet to get a new position that cuts out something distracting or brings more light into the eyes. But sometimes if you have to think about it, you’re taking too long.
So I’ll set the camera up (almost always on Aperture Priority, pretty close to wide open – say f/2.2) and then don’t worry about thoughtfully composing a technically perfect shot. Instead, what I’m looking for is emotion, because that’s what powers a lot of my photographs, and it’s easier to assess that quickly.
The most technically proficient shot is meaningless if it doesn’t communicate something – all that craft has to be in the service of something more important.
The image above shows what I mean. I took it at one of my daughter’s friend’s birthday parties. (Even when no-one’s paying me, I’ll be the one taking photos of kids I know.)
My daughter Fionnuala loves her kindergarten teacher Naomi with an intensity that’s wonderful to see (Naomi also taught her last year, so this is a long-term relationship). I was talking to Naomi when Fionnuala came up and snuggled into her. Instinctively, Naomi put her hand on Fionnuala’s head, and seeing that, I pulled the camera up to my face and got this shot.
What I saw was a sweet personal moment, but also a more universal image of nurturing and love in Fionnuala’s dreamy expression and the affection communicated in Naomi’s protective gesture .
At the time of course I wasn’t thinking this at a level I could express in words – I was probably thinking something more like ‘Ahh, there’s something there, where’s my camera!’.
The black and white treatment seemed to simplify things further, and I’m very happy with the way it turned out.
In fact, it only works well on a universal level because it has a personal truth to it. Writers are often told to write what they know because the more specific they get, the more (counterintuitively) what they’re saying has universal currency.
So if you’re a parent looking to take better photos learn your craft, and then have it in the background while you tell stories that are unique to you and your family.
If you’ve got stories to tell about what you’re thinking about while you’re shooting, I’d love to hear them.