All posts by Jeff Curto

Camera Position 19 : When Less Really Is More

When a photographer finds a beautiful scene, there is often a temptation to put everything he sees in the photograph, even if the image that results isn’t all that interesting. Here, Ansel Adams and Paul Caponigro show us how showing less shows us more.

As a side note, if you are listening to and enjoying Camera Position, I would really appreciate if you’d send an email to a friend or two and tell them about the Podcast. Also, if you have time, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave a quick review of the Podcast at the iTunes store. Thanks!

Ansel Adams - Roots & Pool Near Tanaya Lake, Yosemite, 1955

Paul Caponigro - Pond in Rain

Camera Position 18 : A Dull Picture of A Useful Object

Here is an absolutely dull photograph of an absolutely dull (and ugly!) piece of cardboard that is one of the most indispensible pieces of equipment in my camera bag. Temporarily diverting Camera Position from the examination of fine photographs, I look at a tool I use to help me make better images. By using this cardboard viewing frame, I get to examine subjects for potential photographs before I take the camera out of the bag. Once I’ve found the right place to stand, the string helps me figure out which focal length of lens to use on the camera. It’s a simple, but indispensible tool for making better images.

Jeff's Ugly But Useful Viewing Card

Camera Position 17 : The Instant and the Machine

The idea of photography that depends on the exact moment of exposure for success didn’t originate with Cartier-Bresson, but he certainly made the most of that perfect instant. Bresson’s idea of “the decisive moment” is examined this week, along with the idea of how photographers always have to grapple with the intersection between idea and their machinery.

Cartier-Bresson - Heyeres, 1932

Camera Position 16 : The Game Of Inches

Sometimes, photography is the proverbial “game of inches.” I made several pictures of this “barca” (boat) on a canal in Venice. I had initially been interested in the boat’s shadow and the intersection of the shadow of the boat and the shadow of the building and the way the boat’s bow interacted with the wall behind. That was working well, but it wasn’t until I saw the way that the reflection of the sky from the adjacent canal created a shift in the way space was rendered that I felt that I had a real photograph.

Barca, Venezia, 2003

Barca, Venezia, 2003 (reflection)

Camera Position 15 : Moving Camera Position & Moving Your Boundaries

I’ve moved my Camera Position! I’ve abandoned Apple’s “easy but limited” iWeb software and moved over to a WordPress blog. Hopefully, the majority of listeners have made the switch with no problems. There is a new RSS subscription feed (see first post at the top of the page to see the new information). If you’re subscribed to the podcast through iTunes, you should have been directed to the new feed automatically, but if not, you’ll need to resubscribe.

The biggest advantage to the new web presence is the ability to have readers/listeners leave comments, which I hope some of you will do.

For this podcast episode, I want to talk briefly about going outside of your boundaries as a photographer. All photographers are more comfortable with some subjects than with others, but sometimes trying something new opens the door to some really interesting new photographic experiences. This image of Sr. Mazzetti is a case in point. I’ve long made photographs that purposefully eliminated people from the scene in an effort to create a sense of timelessness in my images. My interest has been in the way that centuries of hands have manipulated the landscape and structures of Italy. This past year, I embarked new series of images of people, and have begun to draw a parallel between the people whose lives were devoted to sculpting the land, buildings and objects that surrounded them, and the people who do that same work today. Sr. Mazzetti is a Rameria, or a coppersmith, and this photograph was made in his Bottega del Rame.

Sr. Mazzetti, Ramiera, Montepulciano, 2005