Emotional Nuance

Provided by: David Hessell

One aspect of photography that is often overlooked, even by photographers, is the role that emotion plays in the final product. In fact, what is the final product? Is the final outcome of a photograph the image itself or the emotion it evokes? What drives people to make images? What is the purpose of any given image?

Emotion can not be overlooked. I teach photography at the junior college level and find this one of the most difficult aspects of photography to convey to my students. It is much easier to ask, and answer, questions dealing with the technical aspects of image making: What kind of film do you use? What f-stop did you use? Which camera did you use? Students ask these questions over and over again. Other photographers ask these questions as well, and just as often. Funny thing - editors seldom (I hate to say "never") ask these questions. No, I have never been asked what camera system I use? What aperture? What tripod? Truth is, it does not matter. The "final product" is what they are interested in, not how I got it, or whether or not it was a mistake.

Nine out of ten times, that "product" relates to emotion. What emotion? Now this is where it gets interesting. Truth is, it doesn't matter. Yeah, that's right. It doesn't matter as long as there is a reaction, a response, an emotion. It is all very tricky, and it is the reason I continue do what I do. First, the subject must evoke a response from me, the photographer, or it would never become one of my images to begin with. The way I perceive the subject, my emotions, my perspective, is the key. True, after that, the technical aspect takes over for a short time, in so much as how I translate my thoughts, my ideas, my emotions onto film. The light, the angle, the camera and lens combination, as well as the exposure choices available, and yes, even whether or not I'm using a tripod or flash. But again, the truth is that all these aspects relate to what I what any given image to "say", or what emotion I want to evoke from the viewer. I want my images to "say something", even if I don't know what that "something" is for anyone else. Sometimes I don't even know until I get the images back from the lab. Are you still with me?

My emotions are paramount in capturing the image, and then the viewer's emotions take over and evokes a reaction. I still believe that, good or bad, any reaction is better than no reaction. The goal of the photographer is to "say" what they want to say and hope the viewer gets the message, even if it is a different "message". Just as in writing, or teaching, or talking, the idea is to make a connection; to get the reader, student, or audience to get involved, to get them to think. Yes, it would be nice to get them to think, see, and respond like you, but is that really teaching? Is that really learning? Truth is, as we all know, that is not how photography works. No image can ever be reproduced, but the same emotions can be reproduced over and over again. If that wasn't the case, landscape photography would have ended with Ansel Adams a long time ago. The fun begins when your message evokes various responses. That is art. That is the beauty of art. That is the message of art.

One example: The Holocaust Museum, Washington, DC. I am a Special Education teacher at Granite Falls Middle School in North Carolina and was on a field trip with a group of eight grade students at the time, not too concerned about photography, although I did try to capture images that could help with our studies. I majored in history at college, I had lived in Germany, visited Dachau, Germany's first concentration camp, and read Anne Frank each year to my students. We were walking through this long, tall, glass corridor that is completely covered with pictures of people from the same village that were all killed during the war. Thousands of faces. The sun was pouring through the glass and was casting shadows on the opposite wall, shadows of picture frames, shadows of people, our shadows. I reacted more to the light and shadows and the overall power of the display than to the exact framing of the image. I took one shot, was told that no picture taking was allowed in this section, and just walked on through being overwhelmed by the visual display and the emotional strength of the exhibit. I really don't remember that much about taking the picture except for the fact the students got a kick out of having their teacher being lectured on not breaking the rules. Fair enough, although picture taking is allowed in the museum, I was just not aware that you could not take them in this one section. I moved on.

It was not until I went through my slides that I remembered my "mistake". In fact, at first glance, I couldn't remember what this image was, or where I had taken it. The shadows blocked out much of the image and I was about to toss it away. Then I took another look. "Shattered Lives" is the one image that, to me, sums up the Holocaust experience in one frame. The technical aspect of the image is questionable, but what a question it evokes. The boy separated form his mother, the eyes of the one girl looking out from the shadows. The emotion is the message. The impact, or power, of this image is light. The pictures on the opposite wall cast shadows that film records much darker than our eyes, and brain, perceive them. Slide film has very little latitude between highlights and shadows. We see shadows differently than film captures them. That is what I owe to the emotional impact this image has over me. The separation between light and dark; life and death.

Does the image itself have impact, or is it the story behind the photograph? Without the title, Holocaust: Shattered Lives, is the image as powerful? Or is it just me? Is it my background, my interest in history, my emotions, my feelings, my "cultural baggage", that makes this image important to me? How do my emotions - my title - affect how you perceive this image? That is the power of photography. That is the power of the photographer. That is the power of the photograph.

Another example: My Pagoda shot. Years ago... 1987 I believe, I was holding a photo workshop in Copenhagen, Denmark for some of my students who were either in the military, or dependents of service members, serving in Bremerhaven, Germany, where my wife was stationed in the U.S. Army. I worked as a photographer on base and also taught photography for the City Colleges of Chicago, Overseas. There we were, a group of Americans, in Copenhagen, photographing a Chinese Pagoda (OK, we were in an amusement park), when I had this wild idea that I would kick my tripod during the exposure in order to get across the point that sometimes it is OK to break the rules - photography rules that is. I was explaining the technical aspects of the long exposures needed for night photography when I added a little non-technical wizardry as a whim. We all got a little kick out of that one (No pun intended). It was nothing I planned, and to tell you the truth, nothing I made a habit of doing afterwards. I believe the word serendipity comes into play here, capturing the unexpected unexpectedly.

When the slides were developed and inspected, I had no idea what had happened to that one strange looking mess, the technical nightmare, that has become my favorite image of the whole shoot. Then I remembered my "mistake". Serendipity at its best. I love it. Of course, the story (as well as the genius) behind the image has grown over the years, but the fact remains, technical expertise is no measure for emotional response. I think I'll call it "Emotional Expertise," if there is such a creature. Again, it doesn't really make any difference, does it? That is the joy of teaching. I can call it anything I want to. One of my favorite college professors always used the phrase, "For the purpose of this class...", and it has stuck with me over the years. For the purpose of this article, the term, "Emotional Expertise" should be stressed over technical expertise. Cool.

The purpose of this article? Well, that is easy... for me anyway. Work on the technical aspect of photography until it becomes second nature (don't worry, it evolves as technology evolves), then blend the technical with the emotional to become a better communicator, which is what photography, or art in general, is really all about in the first place. Each has a major role in the overall outcome of your work. One is just harder to communicate with others about, even though it is what does the actual communicating. A photographic technical marvel that evokes no response, is not really a marvel at all. It is just another pretty picture that is not worth a thousand words, just one of many that look good, but don't really "say anything".

I stress to my students that photographers don't just take shots, we make images. We do it the old fashioned way, we work at it. We also make mistakes that should be thought of as learning tools. Mistakes are only made if we fail to benefit from them. We need to learn from them. We need to work on not only making an image, but we need to work on making a statement, to evoke a response. That is what art should do, and therefore, it should be the goal of every photographer. The camera is a tool, a tool of communication, and should be used accordingly, mistake or not. What camera? What lens? What film? What tripod? Who cares? Get whatever equipment you own to communicate your emotions, and your (as well as my) job is finished.

Simple. It all comes down to emotion. OK, it isn't that simple, but like any emotion, it depends, and starts, with you. Ask new questions, and you are sure to come up with new answers. Make new images, and you are sure to come up with new responses. Any questions?

Click here to contact David H. Hessell

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